#but it does not hurt the same it did back then

[reignpage]

The More The Merrier

Summary: in which you find out for yourself the order the jjk men would take if they all wanted a taste of that cookie and, trust, they know how to get along well when you’re on the line…but are they getting along a little too well? Warning: porn with no plot, f!reader, dubcon?, orgy, sevensome, cunnilingus, tit slapping, spitting, dirty talk - praise and degradation, fingering, overstimulation, throat fucking, hand jobs, face slapping, dom!men, sub!choso, boobjob/paizuri, cum eating, homosexual moments ahem, SatoSugu, senses deprivation, voyeurism and exhibitionism, brief foot play, hair pulling, dumbification, brief mention of rimming, creampie, mentions of anal, throat bulging, uhhh I may or may not have bullied Choso in this fic sorry Choso fans, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 4k

“Oh, look, she’s shaking,” Satoru remarks at an intentionally obnoxious volume. He looks back down at your naked form, laid out all pretty for their feasting. “You cold?”

Light laughter ripples around the room. Their amused, mocking timbre tickles your skin. How you got here in the first place is impossible to say but the reality is clear – they, with their hungry, piercing stares roving your curves, will not let you go until they’ve had their fill. 

Suguru, long hair tied up so it won’t get in the way of the sadistic desires that courses through his veins, steps forward, running his smooth fingers down your torso, starting from the dip in your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, the slope of your stomach, circling your belly button, and stopping at the highest peak of your mound. “Don’t be so mean, Satoru. You know weak little things like her can’t help it.”

“I’m mean?”

“Enough with the small talk. Are we fucking her or what?” Toji asks. Scar on plump lips stretching with his eager grin, he swings a heavy leg onto the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. A large paw lands onto your breast, squeezing with no shame or restriction. He grunts. “Got a nice pair on ya, doll.”

A firm slap on your cheek startles you. It didn’t hurt but it did make heat rise to your face.

“He gave you a compliment. Where are your manners?” 

Wild, pink hair comes into view. So does a bone-chilling sneer. Sukuna looks thoroughly displeased as he scowls down at you. Volatile red eyes compel you to mumble out a hastily strung together, ‘thank you.’ The fire dies out, but not before they spark with satisfaction. 

Sighing, the salaryman drags your attention to him. He’s sitting in the corner, still in his work clothes, albeit suit jacket-less. Thick thighs threatening to burst out of the confines of his tailored trousers spread to reveal an impressive bulge that makes you salivate. The corner of his lips twitch. “We can’t all have our way with her at the same time. There should be an order to these things, no?”

Satoru sits at the foot of the bed, brushing a thumb over the bone in your ankle. “So, what? We do rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first? I’m up for it but I'm not sure Kunapooh’s very fond of the idea.”

The ‘Kunapooh’ in question snarls. He looks murderous – more so than usual. Your hand rushes out and grips his wrist. He releases a tense breath, rolls his shoulders, and snatches his arm from your clutch, but not before he slaps your free breast just to watch it bounce. You have a feeling there’s gonna be a lot of that tonight.

Satoru’s shit-eating grin widens and he makes a clawed gesture at Sukuna, pairing it with a, ‘rawr.’

Eager to get back on track, Kento replies, “I don’t believe we need to resort to that. It seems clear to me that we all agree on who should have the honour of going first… I’m happy to go second or third.”

“Aw, no way. Why do virgins get special treatment?”

All eyes fall on the man standing awkwardly to the side, unsure of where to put his hands. Bare chested and hair tied in loose and messy pigtails, Choso looks out of place. You beckon him over with a smile. Silently, he lets you pull the waistband of his pants down. His cock springs out, hard and leaking already. To his credit, he doesn’t blush when the men laugh at him, far too captivated by the soft hand gliding up and down his long length. 

Toji huffs in amusement. “Seems like he’s in no rush to get in on this.”

Gruffly, Sukuna adds, “Pathetic fool’s not ready anyway.”

“Can I have his turn then? Since I’m the best, I should be number one in line.”

“Choso,” Kento says, still sitting in the chair and adjusting his glasses, “are you really content with just her hand, pretty as they are? Don’t let them bully you out of your right.”

He shakes his head, babbling and muttering, “Y-yes. I want to fuck her. I want to feel her pussy.”

Arm leaning on his best friend’s shoulder, the white-haired man jokes, “I bet two thousand yen he won’t last ten minutes.”

Suguru replies, “I bet ten thousand he doesn’t last one.”

Meanwhile, Toji’s calloused fingers pet your pussy, teasing out obscene squelches that have everyone’s ears honing in. As if hypnotised, the men are pulled to you, naturally taking positions around your body like they’ve rehearsed the synchronicity a million times. Choso shudders out of your grip and rushes to kneel between your legs. Suguru and Satoru, on the other hand, literally take your hands, seeing an opportunity to put your body to use if they can’t monopolise your pussy immediately. The black-haired man massages some comfort into your palm before they both lay something hot and solid in your grasps. Reflexively, you wrap your fingers around them, and, at the same time, you jerk him and Satoru off, taking matching pace. 

They both throw their heads back.

Stepping away so Choso can have your sloppy cunt to himself, Toji keeps himself entertained with watching the stringy goo shimmering on his fingers. His eyes meet yours. With a wink, he takes them into his mouth and sucks hard, making a show of his eyes rolling back, a growl simmering out. 

“Cho, are you okay?” You wonder. He’s struggling to find your hole, poking and prodding your clit and lips with his tip in his fumbling. Growing more and more frustrated, he groans, pressing down, hard, on your lower stomach. The poor man doesn’t even notice you’re squirming, feeling the need to pee. “K-kenny? Can you help him? Please.”

“Of course, darling.” Rolling his sleeves up and displaying his sinewy arms, Kento saunters over to the bed. He pats Choso’s back and kindly suggests, “Allow me to help.”

The more inexperienced man hisses when Kento’s large hand wraps around the base of his cock with no shame. He lines the shiny cock head with expert skill to your pulsing hole and urges his apprentice’s hips by pushing him forward with his. Slowly, as if the blonde is aware of your need to be stretched in due time, a thick cock fills you up deliciously. 

Like she’s been starved her whole life, your pussy gobbles up the offering, a virginal sacrifice at the foot of a raging volcano, steadying to erupt all over the awaiting victims. 

“Oh f-fuck!” Choso’s eyes are threatening to bulge out of his head, body quivering and abs contracting. He’s leaning on the bed, forehead falling between your tits. Warn breath fans your skin as he mouths manic confessions of love. “Ama-ha-zing…you’re amazing. I never want to -fuck! s-so tight- leave.”

Suguru mutters, “I don’t think he really understands the spirit of this group activity.”

Snickering, his accomplice whispers loudly at you, “Do me a favour, baby? Go easy on the guy, yeah? I need him to last much longer.”

“Or don’t, pretty, and I’ll share my spoils with you.”

Choso has enough clarity to hiss, “You’re all such -ah hngh!- assholes.”

Your gummy walls are hugging his cock on its own, uncaring of the silly little bet the mischievous pair has going on, and it’s bliss he’s never felt before. The solid pace he’s worming his cock inside of you is perfect and it has you and Choso driven equally mad. But, based on the vibrating of his arms and the way he’s slobbering all over your tits, who’s really pummelling in and out of your cunt is Kento and the poor puppy is just along for the ride. 

“For his first time, he’s doing very well,” Toji notes, feeling awfully kind for someone who seems much younger than him but is actually inconceivably older. “At least he’s not sobbing on the poor girl; she’s soaked enough already.”

Satoru shrugs. “He’s barely making her feel good — didn’t take you for a selfish lover, Choso.”

“I-I’m not,” he argues, sounding not at all convincing with how he has to be guided by someone else for his first time, too weak to carry himself.

Interjecting, Suguru adds, “Grind your hips. Give some attention to her clit. That’s it…hear how much louder she’s moaning now? The little slut loves to have her clit rubbed, doesn’t she?”

And it’s true. You are moaning louder now, inner coils cruelly tightening up on Choso’s cock like a serpent with the perfect prey.

Kento grunts, still pushing his hips against the man’s ass like he’s fucking you through him. Judging by the flushed skin of his cheeks, it must feel good to rub his boner on Choso. The realisation has you squirming, back arching and toes curling. The blond is looking at you, watching every expression, every whimper, every gasp, every drop of drool down your chin.

Bunching up silky black hair in a firm fist, he tugs Choso’s head back, forcing you to look him in the eye. He’s too far gone already, much more fucked out than you are but looking oh so beautiful. “Look, you’re making him so good. Well done, honey. Hmm, Choso, don’t give up just yet…how is it, sweetheart? Would you like him to go faster? Harder? Talk to me, love. Tell Kenny what you need.”

A moan escapes your lips. “F-faster, Ken. Make him go faster.”

Released, he slumps back down between your breasts.

“No! No, wait, please!” Pace hastening, Choso whines and whimpers, biting onto a bouncing tit for purchase. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. His body doesn’t listen. Soon, he stumbles off of you, unable to stand the delirious pleasure your pussy was sucking out of him, whilst his cock is being wrung by the man behind him. Hips jerking into the calloused grip of someone else’s hand, he paints your torso with his scalding cum. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!”

Spasms ripple up and down his spine, eyes rolled back, and then…he disappears from view. A body hits the floor. 

Still thrusting in your hands, Suguru smiles. “I believe someone -tighter, pretty girl, mhm that’s it…good girl- you owe me ten thousand yen, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and fuck her, ‘Kenny,’ our sweet little cock-slut didn’t get to cum thanks to Mr. Quickshot over there. No offence, Cho.”

Despite being just slightly out of view, what with the gigantic bodies looming over you, you’re sure Kento rolls his eyes. When he does step into view, he’s tugging his tie off with one hand and unbuckling his belt with the other, the metal clinking with the movement. You want to watch him undress but suddenly, your view is, once again, obstructed, but this time, by someone else’s cock. 

It’s massive – curving up, with thick veins sprinting up to a purpley-looking cockhead and dense, heavy balls hanging and swinging. Your eyes climb up another pair of thick thighs which cage your body, past a feral bush, strong torso and a hulking muscular frame, all the way up to a delicious-looking scar.

“Didn’t think I’d wait my turn, did ya, ma?” Groping both of your breasts, Toji slides his cock between them. A bead of pearly-white cum smears on your skin. Your mouth waters. “Help me out, yeah? And hurry; I need something to distract me from another man’s cum drying under my damn ass.”

You know exactly what he means so, without needing more prompting, you gather your saliva and spit a dollop onto his cock. It lands with a thwop and is rubbed in thoroughly, leaving a glistening cock in its wake. Toji calmly pushes your tits together to sandwich his dick. He takes a second, or two, to appreciate the sight – he’s no artist but he sure as hell feels like one now. In tandem with Dumb and Dumber, the three of them use your torso to get themselves off. 

Overwhelmed and overstimulated, no one pays attention to you. 

The room’s impossibly hot, crowded and prison-like now. 

So many bodies. 

So much happening all at once. 

You can’t focus on just one thing. Not on the cocks you’re jerking off in your hands, the thumbs flicking your nipples, the intense eye contact Suguru and Satoru are holding as they moan like mirror reflections, and you can just barely focus on the cock pushing in through the tight ring of muscles in your pussy. The slight pinch leaves you a gasping mess. 

Once again, you’re being filled up, but this time, the man ramming inside has no intention of cumming early. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows the smooth, sensitive spot in your doughy walls and how it has your back arching when he kisses it with every thrust. Breathless, he grunts, “Perfect…ngh, you feel like h-heaven, my love.”

“Heaven,” someone scoffs. 

You almost forgot about the man stepping out of the shadows with a bored look on his face. Glaring right at you, he looks on the verge of burning the room into oblivion. Especially when he climbs into bed, kneeling over your head. “What do any of these bastards know about heaven?”

He grabs your throat, squeezes once and then twice, eyes fluttering shut when your breath hitches. 

Sukuna’s cock, just like everyone else, comes out. It casts a shadow over your face. You’re whining – loving the way Kento feels like he’s in your lungs whilst he hikes your thighs up and places your ankles on his broad shoulders, delighting in how Satoru is now moving your hand down to play with his balls, adoring Toji and the pinching of your nipples as he glides through the sweat building on your skin –  and hardly conscious when Sukuna swipes his cock on your lips.

Tasting salty and like a meal he’s going to force feed you, you gulp nervously.

“Open…Don’t make me repeat myself, you dumb little whore. You can take six cocks well with your greedy pussy but can your irritating mouth do something other than yip like a dog and squeal like a pig?”

Pouty, you tilt your head back and open your mouth wide to accommodate his intimidating size. 

“Good. I’m glad to know you’re not totally useless,” Sukuna mumbles under his breath, watching his cock disappear inch by inch inside your mouth. A thumb of his brushes against the length of your neck, enamoured with the warm imprint. 

He’s stunning you into mania with his immense size. You at long last become all too aware of the fact that you’re pinned to the bed with a pair of balls resting on your forehead, a man kneeling on your stomach, two dicks on your sides thrusting into your hands, and a cock plunging inside your pussy as your clit is rubbed.

Soon, your orgasm strikes like lightning inside your body. You arch up into Toji, bucking like a horse and he rides you with ease. Pussy pulsing, the sudden tightness makes Kento groan. Cum floods your walls, leaking out, pooling under your ass and staining the sheets. Such a waste, you think the salaryman says. 

“Finally! My turn.”

Your hand is abandoned and your cunt swiftly fed again. Through the cum, his dick forces its way in, lubricated and in no need of assistance. Satoru’s long digits dig into the slippery flesh of your thighs, adding to the bruises his former classmate had left.

Porn-star moans echo in the room, matching your garbled ones in half mockery and in half sincerity. He gives you no time to calm down or to get a breather, not that you can when Sukuna is all you can see, taste and smell. “You got a good -hah- load in here, Kento. Nice one. Ah shit, she’s still cumming. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll last -ngh- very long.”

Suguru chuckles. “When do you ever?”

“Ignoring that.”

Toji snorts and suggests, “Someone should wake the loser lying on the floor; a spot’s opened up.”

In agreement, the salaryman, who’s gathering himself by undoing the buttons on his soaked shirt with shaky hands, nudges Choso’s leg. His majestic, pale and sculptured chest comes into view and you think about how badly you want to feel it, to taste the sweat making his skin all dewy, and mark him yours.

Still, no one’s paying you any mind. You’re just a glorified sex doll at this point, being pushed to your limits as they get their money’s worth. The nasty squelches Satoru elicits, the gargled whimpers, and the creaking of the bed as the headboard slams against the wall are all you can hear. It’s the only sense you can focus on now that Sukuna’s effectively blinded you and you’re being touched and felt everywhere to the point where everything loses its meaning. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna take my time so get comfortable, losers,” Satoru goads. “

Unusually tamed and mild, the dark voice of the man whose cock is gagging you into silence says, “Do whatever you want…her throat is mine…and in due course, so will every hole she has.”

“Ha! You tryna make me cum early with the anal talk, Ryomen? Cheating bastard.”

Sukuna huffs. “You can have her ass first, if you want, Fushiguro. Saves me the trouble of having to loosen her up myself. Though I doubt you’ll make much of a difference.”

Despite the insult, the scarred man only laughs and someone must pat someone’s back because you hear a slap but it doesn’t land on your skin. In tandem, they all work your body, taking what they want and giving you no reprieve. 

“Let’s not leap past her pussy just yet, gentlemen. I’ll deal with this bastard’s power trip,” Suguru promises. He, too, leaves your hand, which are both now free to claw into Sukuna and Toji’s arms, silently begging them to both slow down and to hurry up. Just as Kento was standing behind Choso, he stands behind Satoru. His lips graze the shell of his friend’s ear and he whispers, “Quit messing around…our pretty angel only likes good boys, don’t you, sweet thing?”

You can’t even answer because of the cock in your mouth. Though, you realise, in spite of the stupid cloud of pleasure suffocating you, it’s not as if he was actually looking for an answer, instead, the throb of the dick in your pussy seems to be what he needed. 

“H-hey, Suguru, no fair,” Satoru whines. “Don’t play with my nipples..fuck, I knew I never should have told you about that.” 

That you’d love to see for yourself, but unfortunately, you can only try to hold back the orgasm they’re all cruelly pulling out of you. You’re powerful against the stifling, smothering weight of Sukuna and Toji’s bodies. No way in hell could you ever hope to shake them off; you don’t want to anyway.

Thankfully, however, in your peripheral vision, you can see something just as interesting, something that has your eyes fluttering shut, and your pussy clenching hard – Choso’s up but still just as delirious as he was when he watched his cum shimmer on your body, you think. 

Kento has a hand combing through the savage mess of raven-black hair on his head, guiding him to his soft dick. Gentle, patient, and encouraging, he comments, “You’ll have to wait a couple more rounds for your turn again, Choso. In the meantime, you can taste her on my cock…would you like that?”

He nods vehemently, pigtails bouncing. Breathily, he answers, “Yeah…I want a taste.”

A wet tongue darts out and laps up the wetness coating Kento’s skin. Licking, shhlurrrping!, and sucking, Choso moans at the musky sweetness that slides down his throat. He’s kneeling, uncaring of the bruises that’ll form on his poor knees, gripping onto the firm thighs that stand before him as he steals your essence from another man’s cock. With his eyes closed, you know he’s imagining it’s your pussy he’s eating from, but no one misses when those very eyes flit open and he stares up at Kento like he’s an angel sent by you.

“No one’s gonna make a, ‘that’s gay’ joke?” 

The assassin-for-hire snorts again. “That’s rich coming from a guy whose asshole is being fingered right now.”

“Uh, actually, it’s just being rimmed. Try it sometime,” the strongest sorcerer counters. And then, like he’s rubbing it in everyone else’s face, he moans louder, thrusting so hard and fast into your pussy, everyone on the bed is jostled back and forth. 

Your nails dig harder into skin, damn near drawing blood. 

At the same time, Sukuna and Toji cum with low growls. So does Satoru, though it’s Suguru’s name on his tongue. Your stomach and your womb are stuffed full of cum. It’s burning. Suffocating. Painfully euphoric. Just as fast as they descended on you, they relieve you, allowing cool air to blanket your spawning body. You cough and pant and squirm. 

The freedom is exhilarating and upsetting and only lasts a second.

You get just three big gulps of air and then a punishing grip finds its way onto your chin, jerking your head back as a thumb pulls your jaw down. A fat thwack! of spit slithers down your sore throat, which has been properly stretched out by Sukuna’s monstrous cock. You knew who it was just by touch alone and that nasty man gives you a rare smile, which is really more of a menacing grin. 

“Just lubing you up for Fushiguro’s. Put that talented mouth to good use and make me proud, yeah? You’ll find your ass raw and red if you can’t make him cum in less than five minutes.”

“You underestimating me or is she just that good, Ryomen?”

The man replies, “Find out for yourself– watch it!”

He was shoved to the side in Choso’s hurry to taste your lips. For a second you’re grateful that Sukuna grants the offending man mercy and doesn’t escalate the situation but in the next, all your thoughts are consumed by the curse’s undignified desperation.

You can’t rely on your sight to tell you who’s who anymore. There’s too many hands on you. Instead, you let your sense of touch hum, all too familiar with the owner of the messy and sloppy kiss granting you sweet reprieve from the storm of testosterone, horniness, and muscles on steroids surrounding you. Although that doesn’t last very long either because he’s being yanked off, like a kitten, by his scruff. Toji cocks his brow. “Her mouth’s mine now, Kamo. Go suck her toes or something.”

That apparently didn’t sound like sarcasm to the curse because he crawls over to your feet and swirls his tongue around a big toe, slobbering it up good and proper for his own benefit. He humps the thigh, cock searing, all while his tongue gets in between the crevices. Everyone but you chuckles, because, despite yourself, you find it hot and endearing.

There’s now three men by your legs – Choso at your foot, and Satoru and Suguru fighting to sluurrp! up as much of the former’s cum from your pussy. Except, it feels more like Satoru’s distracting Suguru by creating a mark on his neck. And it’s actually working; there’s no rhyme or reason to his technique whilst he cleans you up for himself, only a wallowing in the taste of your tangy sweetness and Satoru’s bitter saltness. 

Another monstrously sized cock slides into your mouth and you take it in with no complaint, experienced throat expanding to impress him just as Sukuna ordered you to. A calloused thumb brushes a bead of sweat from your temple. You look up at Toji, whose furrowed brows ask an unspoken question: you okay, kid?

Your free hands grab his blessed asscheeks and shove his hips forward. You gag around his cock. That’s your answer.

“Damn…you really are good,” he grunts out. Turning to the man sitting by your head, petting your hair, he jerks his head back. “Go and try her tits, man. Ain’t nothing like it.”

Sukuna growls, “I was going to; don’t tell me what to do. Just waiting for your fat ass to get off so I can get in comfortably. It’ll look like I’m fucking you from behind otherwise.”

“You fucking wish.”

The man grouches, “Whatever. I’ll take her hand while you fuck her mouth. Try pinching her nose for a couple seconds; her throat tightens up real nice.”

Meanwhile, Kento’s big hand rubs your stomach, tenderly roaming over to your breast whilst it’s still free for use and indulging himself in the softness of the fat mounds. He’s smearing the mixed cum on your skin as if it’s lotion. It’s loving, slow, and sweet so is the kiss he presses onto your palm, which he hands over to Sukuna, whose cock is already raring to go. 

None of them look intent to end the night with just one orgasm each. You can do nothing but grip the bed sheets and keep your legs open so they can slot themselves in any gaps they can find among the crowd of men who will not relinquish control and let another take their turn. 

There’s no point in counting orgasms, in keeping score or tracking of who is where and why– they’re doing that for you. It seems like all you have to do is just let them throw you into any and all positions they want, let them mark your body up as they please, and fuck their cum back into you with not a care for the consequences of tonight’s depravity.

“Don’t go falling asleep, alright? Or do, whatever floats your boat…pretty sure we’re all in agreement we’ll fuck you anyway.” Satoru stands up, pinching your thigh to catch your attention. With other men’s cum trickling down his chin, his words simultaneously fills you with confidence and tears you down at the same time, a hysterical dread of excitement in the air. 

The men share a sadistic look before those piercing eyes fall back onto you for the millionth time this night.

“Good luck, babe!”

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

You were very good about leaving me alone all my life…why don't you do it again, please (Black Reader to Bruce)

"DEAR OLD DAD?"

You finally got the promotion you've been waiting for at Wayne Enterprises for I don't know how long, but finally, the company's boss notices you. Bruce notices you, which is crazy because there are millions of workers around, but he notices you. You're lucky, and honestly, he gives you your very late and awaited promotion. With that life-changing information, you go off to get some beers with your friends, not knowing that certain masked vigilantes are watching you in the shadows. You're drunk, hiccuping, flushed, small and red if you look very closely, with a wide smile and dilated eyes—far too many beers to think of. Your friend ends up dropping you off at your dingy apartment. You flop onto your couch, excited, with your cat purring in your lap.

You see a dark silhouette on your balcony. Not knowing any better, you call out. Bruce tries to ignore you and get off the balcony, but you've already spotted him, and you're not letting him escape. In your mind, holy shit, Batman is on my balcony, and oh my God, Batman's on my balcony! So he stands there, completely paralyzed as you waddle over to your balcony window, opening it up for the caped crusader. "Want a beer?" you slur your words. Bruce doesn't answer as he watches you waddle back to your refrigerator, opening cans of beer and cheap snacks stacked in your fridge. My God, how do you survive like that? There's not a single green thing in there.

You come back with two beers; Bruce doesn't touch his, but you're taking a complete swig out of yours. "Holy shit, Batman's in my apartment!" you laugh, finally falling into his lap, beer still in hand. You tell him about your day and how you got your very awaited promotion that you've been waiting years for, and it finally appears. Bruce feels like a proud father, but you obviously don't know who the man under the mask is. You think you're hallucinating Batman in your apartment, but you're too drunk to care. You keep rambling about your day on his lap as Bruce combs through your curls. He feels so safe around you, so happy around you; it's like he can just take off his mask in front of you. Until he does, and you're completely gobsmacked that Batman is Bruce Wayne, and it's the same Bruce Wayne who just gave you your very awaited promotion.

You're jumping up and down with glee and joy, crying with happy adult tears. He wants you to put your beer down on the coffee table, his untouched with yours half-empty. He wants to drop the news on you; he wants to tell you everything: how you were his child, how he ignored you for a long portion of your life, and how he's back now wanting to make everything better. He wants to tell you everything, but a part of him doesn't want to know your reaction. He can't take it, but it needs to be done. He can't keep a secret from you like this; it hurts him, but it's going to hurt you even more if you know this information. He can't live a lie, and he won't let you.

So he confesses every single detail about how you're his child, about the fling he had in college that includes your mother, how he remembers your mom's name, and how he figured out you were his kid. It was simple math and a whole lot of invading privacy. He confesses like it's a church confession, and you're the priest. On the other hand, you get up off his lap, your head down, and grab the beer off the coffee table, taking another swig. "Why can't you just let me enjoy myself?" you say in a broken voice. You didn't want to get this promotion out of pity; you did this through hard work. You're telling me all it took for you to get that uplifting you need is to be Bruce Wayne's kid? You felt like all your hard work to win prizes and get into university was absolutely nothing.

"Why did you have to ruin this for me? Why couldn't you just ignore me like you always did?" You didn't want a father; you didn't need one; you didn't crave one. So why was he here now, caring so much? Now you need a stupid pity party? You just wanted to be seen for your work; so does it not even matter now that you're Bruce Wayne's kid? "I didn't need a dad; I grew up by myself. I did everything by myself. I never needed one then, so I sure as hell don't need one now." He wants to get closer to you; the cold weather of the suit will give you the warmth that he knows you need. You're not a Wayne; you're not some trust fund baby. But once this gets reaching out to the press and once your coworkers know, you're not a hard worker—you're just some dumb nepo baby with everything handed to them by dear old dad.

[vxnillabxn]

Hiii!! I hope it’s okay to ask, I’ve had this idea where MC breaks up with Zayne, thinking he deserves better. But after hearing how miserable he was, she comes back and admits she was scared and never wanted to leave. I’d love to see how he reacts and how they move forward.

Lowk been needing angst and comfort 🥲

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ hurt/hurt/hurt/comfort! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚did i almost make myself cry? yes. did i also love writing this? absolutely. do i approve of the reader! actions? hell no. BUT, overall, this is as much hurt as it is comfort, i hope i meet your expectations, dear anon! ♡

being with zayne was the best decision you ever made. he was emotionally responsible, he always talked things out, and he made sure you felt comfortable and loved. he made time for you, and he put aside important matters for the most crucial one in his eyes; you.

there was absolutely nothing you wanted to change about him or the lovely, strong relationship you two were building together.

again, there was nothing you wanted to change about him.

but about you?

plenty.

you didn't feel like you were enough for him. he sacrificed everything for you, he was a literal angel, and he always knew what to do to make it all feel better.

you, on the other hand, were sometimes too busy. you didn't know how to handle things, and you felt like the comfort you could offer him during his lowest moments was never enough.

you were not enough.

and you'd been repeating those same words for a month now.

how does he handle everything?

how is he able to have you as his top priority?

why does he love you so much, when you're not even half as special as him?

you can't take it anymore. you're tired, you feel drained, and you also feel guilty. zayne deserves the world. he deserves someone who's up to his level. someone who can silently manage everything perfectly. someone who has their life together, like he does.

it's not fair to be selfish and drag him along with you, not when he's been nothing but selfless all his life. he's been killing his free time, killing his social life, even killing his health —and all for you.

they say to love is to let go.

and after thinking and crying yourself to sleep on the nights he worked late shifts, you finally decided it was only fair to break up.

of course, he knew something was wrong.

he just never expected it would be this.

when you told him you'd wait at a nearby park, —one you two had never visited before— he was worried.

you didn't want to break up with him somewhere he loved. you wanted him to still go to the same coffee shop, the same restaurant, the same patisserie without connecting it to a memory this bitter.

when he arrived, he hugged you and kissed you softly.

it hurt.

it tasted so sweet, so genuine, so devoted…

you let him. it was going to be the last time, and your selfishness wanted a final reminder before you left him, for his own good.

what happened next is blurry in your mind.

you don't remember the exact words you said, but you remember his stunned silence.

you know you said it was so he could find someone better. someone who deserved him.

and you know he wasn't getting it.

he understood a lot of things.

but not this.

his eyes went unfocused, his lips pressed tightly shut.

he didn't speak.

you were grateful for that, because if you'd heard his voice, —his broken voice— you'd have apologized right there on the spot.

you held out the snowman keychain he'd made for you, your hands trembling. you wanted him to take it back.

but he didn't move.

he was frozen in time.

so, as cruel as fate is, you kept the keychain. a reminder of the only truly good thing that had happened to you, and when you least deserved it.

you walked away, trying not to cry, telling yourself you were doing what was best for him, right? for once, you were doing something in return for everything good he'd done for you.

and as your figure grew smaller, there was a soft splash on the ground.

a single drop of water.

not from the rain threatening to pour.

but from the corner of his eye.

…

one month.

it's been one month now, and you've been too busy working and hunting distractions. you've avoided the hospital even when you've felt worse than ever, both mentally and physically.

but your chest hurts badly, and more and more often you feel dizzy, exhausted, consumed.

it got so bad you had to go to the hospital, or they'd force you to take another month off to rest.

and the last thing you wanted was to stay by yourself, sulking and crying inside your messy, dark apartment.

once inside the hospital, you saw no one familiar. not even yvonne, the receptionist you'd grown closer to when you were zayne's patient before dating.

instead, another nurse stepped up to the reception desk and smiled warmly.

“good morning, dear. do you have an appointment?”

you swallow hard. you forgot to change doctors. maybe zayne did it for you.

“i… yes, i'm under dr. zayne's care.”

her smile faltered.

“oh, sweetie… didn't they inform you?”

her voice turned softer, her expression shifting to worry. your stomach dropped.

something happened to zayne, you're sure. your heart starts pounding wildly, but you keep your voice steady. you have to know.

“dr. gideon took over his patients for now—”

“what happened to dr. zayne?”

you didn't mean to sound so desperate, but it comes out fast, almost sharp.

the nurse flinched slightly, then cleared her throat.

“i'm afraid i can't disclose that information, sweetheart. but i can schedule you with—”

“thank you!”

you rush outside before she can finish. you run, vision blurry with panic and tears. you know the route to his house by heart. every shortcut, every turn.

zayne would never just leave. not unless something serious happened.

you pound on his door.

your breath is ragged, your heart feels like it might break your ribs, but you don't care.

nothing matters more than knowing if zayne is okay.

yet he doesn't answer.

and now your heart beats not from exhaustion, but from fear — because your heart belongs to him, and if something happened to him…

you can't wait anymore. you tear through your bag, looking for the spare key you couldn't bring yourself to throw away.

there it is. attached to the snowman keychain.

you unlock the door, hand shaking.

the sight inside leaves you breathless.

scattered books. blankets draped carelessly over the sofa…

and on the dining table… two mugs. one at his place, empty. another one at yours, still full. as if he kept waiting for you to come back and drink it with him.

two plates. two sets of cutlery. always two.

dusty. untouched. abandoned for…

exactly a month.

you rush upstairs, opening every door.

not in the bathroom.

not in the bedroom.

not in the kitchen.

maybe… his studio?

you approach the closed door, hand trembling. you push it open.

and there he is.

asleep at his desk. his laptop is still glowing faintly. the room is painfully neat, unlike the rest of the house.

but it's freezing inside.

you shiver, but step closer.

zayne looks… different.

his skin pale and unhealthy, dark circles under his beautiful eyes, a slight stubble on his usually clean-shaven face.

his fingers tinged purple from the cold. his brows furrowed, trapped in a nightmare.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

he was supposed to be better. to find someone up to his level.

but seeing him so broken, so not composed… you realize how badly you misjudged.

tears fall as you try to wake him. you shake him, nudge him, tug at his clothes, bury your face in his lap and sob.

“i'm sorry, zayne, i'm so… so sorry. i never wanted to leave, i…”

you bite your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

“this wasn't supposed to happen… you were supposed to be happy without me. you deserved so much better, zayne. so… much… better.”

words come out between sobs, but you cling to him like a lifeline.

and then, gently, you feel his fingers brushing your hair.

your breath catches. you look up.

he's awake. his expression unreadable, until the faintest smile curves his lips.

“you… came back.”

his voice is raw, hoarse from disuse.

you gasp, scrambling up to look at him properly.

you can't stop yourself.

you throw your arms around him, almost knocking him off the chair.

but then—

“stop.”

you freeze.

does he… not want this?

“i can sense it. you're overthinking again.”

his voice is soft, but firm.

“you did that a lot before you…” he pauses, looking away. “have i not made myself clear enough?”

you step back, but he pulls you closer.

“tell me. was i not clear?”

“zayne, i don't—”

“didn't i tell you how much i loved you? how much you meant to me?”

his voice stays calm, but his gaze… it's yours.

“please. answer me.”

your chest aches. you know the answer.

“zayne, i thought… i thought it was for the best. you're perfect. you always made time for me, even while saving lives. i have so much to work on and… it wasn't your fault. i was stupid, and—”

he hushes you gently, his fingers brushing your lips.

“i was perfect for you. everything i did, every choice, every thought… was for you. from the start of my career, and until the day i die, everything i do will always have you in mind.”

you're speechless.

he removes his hand, then stands, towering over you.

“do you know why i waited?”

you shake your head.

“you never said you didn't love me anymore,” he steps closer, caging you in. “and i knew i'd wait, even if it meant endless nightmares. even if i lost myself doing so… even if it took another lifetime.”

his hand cups your cheek, wiping your tears.

“because i only live for you. and that won't change, unless you tell me you don't love me anymore.”

your voice cracks.

“no! zayne, i love you! i did what i did because of love! i wanted only the best for you…”

“and the best for me is you, my love.”

his cold fingers warm at your skin, his voice trembles ever so slightly.

“don't you ever… ever do that again,” he stops, but adds more after a few seconds:

“every night, i woke up reaching for you,” he confesses, voice breaking for the first time. “i saw you leaving over and over in my dreams, and i couldn't stop you. i was dying without you, even if i kept breathing.”

you choke on a sob, and your lips crash into his.

it's messy, desperate —but he steadies you, slowing it down into something deep and aching, until you're both breathless.

you finally feel at peace. because it's him. and only him.

as you part, he kisses your trembling hands.

“my love… shall i remind you every day how much i need you to breathe?”

you sniffle, shaking your head.

“no. i think… it's my turn now to show you how much i need you. how selfish i truly am for wanting you in my life forever.”

“then let us be selfish, love.”

he kisses your forehead.

and everything falls right back in place.

as it used to be.

and from now on, he'll make sure it always is.

[mochiqa]

synopsis. when you tell ryomen sukuna that you'd like to head to the market with him, he's unsure why you won't just allow a servant to accompany you instead.

tags/notes. heian era sukuna <3 he has my heart (he would probably rip it out) + reblogs are much appreciated mwah

when you reach over to brush a piece of lint off sukuna’s robe, he grunts and rolls his shoulder. “please, ryo,” you whine, shuffling forward on your knees to sit closer to him. he’s sat on a mat, his legs crossed and an incense stick in his hand as he brings it closer to his nose to contemplate whether or not he should maintain its light or snap it in half and toss it in a pond.

“i have no time for such peasantry activities,” he says flatly, deciding on placing the stick on its respective holder and watching it with tired eyes. “as my woman, you cannot be seen prancing around that tasteless collection of stalls deemed a market either.”

you groan exaggeratedly and lay your head on his shoulder, huffing frustratedly. “don’t be such a hermit.” you play with his fingers absentmindedly and look up at him, observing his expression, every twitch of his face. he doesn’t look angry, maybe annoyed - frustrated. unbothered, perhaps, if it weren’t for the relent blooming in his chest.

one of his arms reach down to scratch at his stomach, another lifts his teacup to his lips. the third reaches up to flick your forehead lightly - enough to make you frown but not hurt you. his fourth arm remains in his lap. “i shall allow you to send a servant to town to retrieve what you need. no more. this grant itself is more than you deserve for your insolent pestering.”

he says it in his usual tone - for sukuna had long forgotten how to speak in anything but sharp syllables and with unwavering authority - but his brow is not furrowed as it always is when he addresses visitors or his servants. that is the only indication of his… toleration.

sighing loudly, you push yourself up on your feet and trudge towards the wooden sliding door. “you did not accompany me to the gardens the previous week, nor did you hold me to sleep as you usually do last night. now you will not even look my way when i ask for the simple pleasure of being on your arm as we explore the town,” you say, moreso mumble. though your voice is loud enough for him to hear, he feels a rather unwelcome emotion spark in his chest at your precise recollection of his affectual negligence.

your back is towards him but you can still sense the scowl forming on his face. you turn around to face him just as he places his teacup back down on the porcelain coaster (the one he had your name imprinted on with the finest calligraphy his money and power could buy.) he motions you towards him with a wave of his hand and you tense slightly, not afraid of harm but of rejection. so, you walk back and stand before him, your hands clasped together in front of you.

when he does not talk immediately, you open your mouth to speak. “do you dread time spent with me, sukuna?”

his gaze hardens when you call him that. it feels as though you are ashamed of him. “do labels matter not to you, woman?”

lip pursing, you retort quickly, “labels may be erased. as of late, you…” you hesitate, wondering what tone you should take with him. you decide to remain steadfast in your confrontation and square your shoulders. “you have not shown me that my label is anything but disposable.”

he stares at you for a long moment, four crimson eyes burning into your soul as if to inspect the emotions searing through you as you lock eyes. then, he stands and steps forward so that your clothed chest is brushing against his naked one. you resist the urge to flinch when he reaches up to caress your face with that same expression of his.

“i do not place labels on that which i consider disposable,” he tells you like he is stating something you’ve known for eons. when you try to lower your gaze and huff in almost tearful frustration, he tightens his grip on your chin and lifts your gaze back to his. “that is not an unfamiliar idea to you.”

it’s not a question, but you nod anyway.

he releases your chin then and pulls his robe back up his arms and shoulders again, tying the silk sash at his waist. “i shall have your lady in waiting prepare a bath for you before we venture into that flea-ridden town.” you’re surprised by his sudden agreement, but don’t question it. you smile softly instead, and that makes him pet your head.

when the two of you are at the market is when you have to stifle a laugh at the unimpressed scowl on sukuna’s face at the sight of the humble stalls and sounds of advertising vendors. though, when you point to a pearl necklace and fawn over the delicate beading of it, sukuna’s eyes burn into your face freakishly like he’s fascinated by your beauty.

within the next thirty seconds, the necklace is yours. the vendor places it in a small cushioned box for you and bows deeply as he voices his endless gratitude to the looming nobleman that you have wrapped around your finger.

“thank you, ryomen,” you say with a smile, gazing up at him like he bought a star in your name (which… he’s considering, unbeknownst to you.) he turns his head to look at you, but it’s only a glance. he looks ahead again, eyes locked on the bustling crows before him. “you need not thank me,” he huffs out, even though he is painfully aware of the fact that you saying his name again has erased some of his discomfort.

[wxsteriawishes]

how to manipulate the lads boys

(not that we would ever do that. . . right?)

go back to the masterlist

content: toxic behavior

caleb

1. he's scared of losing you. so use that fear. remind him how you managed to move on when you thought he had died. show him you have other options. threaten to leave him if he doesn't let you have your way. he'll do anything to get you to stay. compare him to others. mention how your friend's boyfriend never gets so annoyed by a night-out, why did he have to care so much?

2. pretend you're heartbroken each time you mess up. apologize, say sorry and don't let him change the subject. cry, pretend to lose your appetite, mess up your sleep schedule for a few nights. show how much you regret whatever it is that you did. he always forgives you anyway.

3. he prides himself on knowing you well. it's part of why he thinks you should be with him. show him how much you've changed, how little he seems to understand your needs now. he'll desperately change to fit your needs, no matter how outrageous they are.

rafayel

1. this one's tricky, because 99% of the time, he's the one manipulating others. so you have to build trust before you feed his paranoia. make him believe you're innocent, you're genuine, you're pure. that way, he can't see you as anything but an angel. he'll confuse himself, desperate to pin the blame on anyone else, maybe even himself.

2. subtly say or do things that he hates, but play it off. he uses humor to cope, his banter is a mask. tell him that you went out to dinner with a guy, but you didn't think it'd be a big deal so you never brought it up. when you're cleaning his studio, accidentally break that old brush he never used anyway. lie about breaking it. act sorry when he finds out. he'll get so caught up in the little things that he'll start to overthink. when you try to play off the more serious things, he'll second-guess himself and convince himself it also wasn't that big of a deal, like usual.

3. despite the smiles, he is a little insecure. he doesn't always trust your love. and your words always cut deep. you may fight with him often, but you also make up almost immediately. choose your insults carefully. even if you claim to have said them in the heat of the moment, he won't forget them. tell him what he's doing wrong, hit him where it hurts. even if you're longer upset with him about it, he'll keep you in mind. he'll stay in line.

sylus

1. use your bond with him to your advantage. each time he gets upset and wants space, make sure he can't leave. pretend you can't control it. let him lose control and lash out. that way, he has to be the one to apologize instead of you. he already knows he used to disgust you when you first reunited. if he oversteps and you're trembling, he'll believe it again. he'll back up, won't be so controlling, if it meant showing you he would never hurt you.

2. similar to rafayel, he might be pulling the strings even when you think you have everything under your control. so start doing the same back. similar to the first point, when he lashes out about you putting yourself in danger, flip it back on him. he does the same, doesn't he? and why was he shouting at you? guilt trip him to insanity.

3. ask for space. even if you don't need it, take the space to gather your bearings. give it a day or two, maybe even a week, depending on the situation. he'll crack first, coming to you to talk, because were you still upset? he'll get scared you've finally had enough of him and that you might leave. he'll take the blame, tripping over himself to do it, even if he wasn't the one in the wrong.

xavier

1. gaslight him. he won't think you'll ever lie to him, so work off of that. if he disapproves of something you did and gets upset, act as if that was normal these days. say it was a prank, just a little joke. explain you didn't mean anything behind it, it'll imply he was overreacting. he'll get the hint and drop the issue quickly.

2. he's clingy and he doesn't like it when you avoid him. there's your strategy. when he does something you don't like, give him the silent treatment. avoid him, pretend he's invisible, it'll drive him a little insane. he'll do anything to get you to stop ignoring him. if he apologizes for the right thing, let up a bit. start giving dry responses, he'll be relieved you were at least speaking to him again. he'll keep himself in check, you won't have to do much.

3. love bomb him. get him used to an affectionate routine of kisses, praises, cuddles, and surprises. the second you stop, or pull back a little, he will be affected. if you want something, or if he messed up, this will put him back on high alert, ready to apologize and please you.

zayne

1. won't work until he finally begins to trust that you love him as much as he loves you. sandwich your complaints between two compliments. mention how much you value him, but he just didn't seem to do this or act like that. but of course he's such a selfless person, so how can you complain? he doesn't like hearing that last part. he doesn't like you excusing his bad traits just because you love him, or certain parts of him. he'll try to fix whatever he can, even if your complaint might've actually been trivial or unreasonable.

2. it's not him, it's you. emphasize how he's not to blame, there has to be a fault within you. because he will not believe that second part. he'll over-analyze the situation, disregard his emotions and only think logically. he'll reason his way to pinpoint himself as the problem, he'll sit you down and ask you what he needs to do to be better. make sure to be very grateful, because he didn't need to do all of this. you already loved him so much. but if he really wanted to. . .

3. get injured. seriously. catch a cold, bruise your rib mid-mission, or somehow manage to get his evol to go out of control and hurt you. his biggest fear is hurting others, he has nightmares of killing you. he'll already feel guilty the second he sees you not in perfect health. he'll put aside everything, the horror of losing you, of being the reason you might be gone, will soften him. he'll be wrapped around your finger.

ranking

easiest to hardest to successfully manipulate

1. caleb (um, he's too desperate for you. yes, he's literally a menace as colonel, but you're you)

2. xavier (extremely intelligent, but he trusts you too much. won't question you)

3. zayne (he already has a feeling you deserve better, so he understands when you're dissatisfied with him)

4. sylus (observant and keen to pick up any ingenuity, but he's too attached to notice/care with you)

5. rafayel (the og manipulator. he's good at networking and he's popular for a reason. you might both be manipulating each other simultaneously. however. you betrayed him once before, you could do it again)

[seronamin]

in a gentle lullaby

Falling asleep next to a demon has to be a risky gamble, but you're too tired to even question the chance they'll take your soul and feed it Gwi-Ma (or whatever that Demon King is called).

cw fluff, sleepy reader, unedited

The sound of JINU's awkward shuffling and muttering lyrics under his breath lulled you to sleep, along with the buildup of sleep deprivation from pulling all-nighters during the week. He'd been stressing the importance of the next song the boy band had to perform, urging you for choreography that had to be flawless with his lyrics. By the time he noticed you were asleep—when he really turned around to inquire about a part of the song he kept messing up on when dancing—he was too late to even bother waking you up; instead, he just strolled over to the desk you were hunched over.

At first glance, you looked comfortable despite your cheek pressed against a small spiral notebook, leaving indents in your face. But it was easy to notice the small discomfort from the object. There was a slight crease between your eyebrows, almost like you were squinting at something in your dream.

JINU could only sigh, gently lifting your head up to slip the notebook out of the way, laying your head back on the desk. His fingers drummed against the ink-stained paper, peering at your face again. The discomfort doesn't disappear from your face like he hoped.

He opts to move you again when he realizes that your pain was only growing from the position, coaxing your frame to sit up so he can gracefully pick you up. As he transfers you to his bed, you nuzzle your face into his neck.

Warm air fans his skin, leaving a red flame in its wake.

JINU only wished you knew what crazy things you did to him, his arms trembling as he forced himself to lie you down on his bed with a burning face.

If there's one thing to know about ABBY, is that he loves to flex his abs to anyone and everyone in sight. So when he asks (correction: demands) you lie on his back so he can prove that his muscles are all that, you simply just do as he asks. At the same time, you eye his phone that he barely knew how to use up until a week ago, which was already recording.

With the realization that this was most definitely going on his socials, you face your head the other direction from the pointing lens and scroll away on your phone with heavy eyes.

The magenta-haired demon only angles a smirk to the camera and begins his demonstration of aggressive pushups. The cool air produced by how swiftly ABBY does his pushups feels nice against your skin. A yawn slipped past your lips, feeling your eyes fluttered close to soak in the quick breezes of cold air.

The moment you closed your eyes was the when you slipped out of consciousness.

It took ABBY 57 more pushups later to realize you were asleep, soundless snoring catching his sensitive demon ears. He lowered his body to the floor, blinking in mock confusion at what was happening above him.

Looking back at the camera, he smugly smiled and mouthed a few words at his phone, which faltered when he felt you stir and nearly fall off of him. He scrambled to keep you steady so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

Aren't they so cute?

When night hits, the stars are the first thing ROMANCE notices. So whenever Gwi-Ma doesn't call forth him to be at his beckon, he lies on the rooftop of the suite his boy band owns, staring up into the midnight sky.

And when he meets you, he forces you to join him on his nighttime endeavors.

When night falls once more, your nighttime ritual begins, but you're without ROMANCE this time. You wait a good 30 minutes for him to join you before realizing it was one of those nights. A night when he wouldn't be back until a couple of hours.

The stars don't shine as brightly when you watch them alone, you think. When you're with him, he tells you stories he creates based on the patterns he connects with the stars. He forms his own constellations, writing their own stories to tell.

Your favorite to listen to was the one about who liked to sing, with the stars forming a jagged treble clef. But you never seemed to remember what happened next without ROMANCE telling you the story.

So you wait on the roof for him to return from his summoning.

ROMANCE returns 4 hours later after his rehearsal, rushing to the roof to see if his stars were waiting for him.

There, littering the sky, were the glowing balls of gas in the distance, making him smile. He tilts his head down to see you sprawled out on the roof, a small pillow resting beneath your head.

He sits next to you, tucking you into his side, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

And his favorite star is just in arm's reach.

MYSTERY didn't like going outside; in fact, he dreaded it. So when you forced him onto the sheltered balcony, he couldn't help but hiss at you. It reeked outside, but you pouted and sat outside under the covered balcony as rain poured aggressively.

He watched from a window. You inched your chair closer to the railing, sticking a hand out to feel the cold water against your skin.

A scowl takes over his covered features, the fringe of his hair hiding the glare. Upset that you choose to remain outside over staying dry inside with him. But he refused to argue with you or drag you back inside. You looked peaceful out there that he couldn't help but let the scowl collapse a few minutes after making the face.

Still, he can't help but intently watch you, just in case anything were to happen to you. MYSTERY stays close by always, just in case.

So he notices when you begin to lean against the railing. He watches as your eyes flutter closed contentedly, drawing closer to the sound of the patter of the rain. Most importantly, he watches your chest slows down, breathing becoming lighter and less present.

He can't help but frown at watching you drift off into sleep.

The closer you lean into the railing to slumber, the more the rainwater redirects and dampens your clothes and skin. MYSTERY remembers reading somewhere that humans get sick because of the rain.

And he doesn't want you to get sick.

With much reluctance, he leaves the comfort of his place at the window seal. He moves to the door of the balcony, hit with the moist air and sick smell of rainwater.

He wrinkles his nose from the feeling and smell, like dirt at the bottom of his shoe.

He inches closer to you, pulling you gently but quickly away from the railing and bringing you inside to his spot at the window.

He retrieves new clothes for you and lets you sleep on his chest as he watches the rain from behind the glass protection.

In exchange for letting BABY mess around on your phone, he graciously allows you to lie on his chest while he doomscrolls through every form of social media you have. Although you complained at the beginning, he had his own phone to mess around with, you gave in fairly quickly without much coercion needed.

Together, you both watched as he scrolled through your Instagram first, going through your reels, then over to your followers. You peer at his face carefully, noting every twitch in his face that appears when he scrolls downwards to read the next caption or username. At one point, BABY finds himself watching a guy pretending to be a vampire, going around and biting random people on the streets of America.

His eyes squint at the absurdity of the reel, looking at you as if to ask 'WTF is this??' but says nothing. Not because he doesn't have anything to say, but because he decides to stay quiet for the sake of your sleeping face.

He doesn't even notice that you fell asleep hours ago amidst his doomscrolling journey. Your breathing was so steady and soft that it sounded the same when you were awake and asleep.

The most polite thing he does all day, for you specifically, is lower the volume of the reels. Your face noticeably softens much more, a small smile tugging at your face as you bury yourself deeper into his sweater.

BABY feels his lips tug upwards.

That doesn't stop him from pressing the plus button at the bottom of the screen and snapping a picture of your sleeping form with him smirking at the camera with his other hand threaded in your hair.

By the time you wake up a few hours later, with BABY still awake and still going through every app on your phone, the post reaches 300K likes alone.

Captioned: All yours, all mine.

[pricesbabydoll]

riding a teddy bear thinking of daddy!price but he caught you in the act

cw: icky story, ddlg, daddy!price, daddy kink, dl;dr

you were sure he wasn't home, you've felt him kissing your forehead to not wake you up. he’d murmured something against your hair—and then you heard how he closed the door.

you didn't even bother to looking around, you were still sleepy. you could still feel his scent in the pillow next to yours, to tobacco, ash and cologne. merely like price.

you thought about how worn he looked last night. how tired he was. and still—he’d do anything you ask for, anything to keep a smile on your face, no matter what was it, he did. he'd let you lie against him and then you'd climb over his stomach like always.

and of course he hadn't resisted to touch his girl, to fuck her, to eat her out because he'd been starving all this time, and you... so patient, so obedient, you just let him do whatever he wanted with you. you'd just moan and ask for more so sweetly, it made him weak every single time.

you started to remember the way he'd been last night, so fucking good, letting you snuggle on bare chest all you want, kissing his tummy, nuzzling your face against the hairs of his torso. you loved that, you loved how hairy he was, it felt safe and comfortable. you loved when the hairs tickled your face, you loved kissing him there.

and he loved seeing his girl like that, all needy and eager for him. he loved the way your soft lips moved over his chet, over his tummy... all the way down to his cock. he loved the way your lips felt against his flesh, about how good you sucked him. he loved how you licked his balls, his length, his tip and swallowed his precum like that was the only thing he could fed you.

and there you were, with your face tucked on his pillow. the one he'd been using earlier because you wanted to cuddle and he—even with the aches he carried back from deployment, he always let you rest over him, he always let you use him as a big pillow.

you just sighed and moved your head just to find the big teddy bear he'd given you as a gift because 'it reminded you of him', and it did. more than it should. sometimes, when he's not home—like now—you'd rubbed yourself on the damn teddy bear, thinking about him.

and that's what's you're gonna do now, already half naked, getting on top of the big bear, because you need him.

you laid on the stuffie with your thighs around his big belly and then you hid your face on the bear's neck as you started to hump.

it felt so good just thinking about price. thinking about his dick, about how much you liked when he was buried deep inside you, telling how good you are for him, telling how good you take his cock. his big calloused hands all over your body, touching every corner of you, every spot like he owns you—he does.

you bit the bear's ear to muffle your little moans coming from pleasure deep in your core. you could feel the way the fabric of your panty got wet, the way you felt yourself sticky against the bear, but that didn't stop you. nothing did.

you were humming stuff like 'please, daddy,' as you humped, as you felt even more friction, more pleasure. you couldn't get john's image out your mind. your fingers clutched against the fabric of the bear, trying to ease yourself.

and... you didn't know that he never left the house. in fact, he's walked into the room to this. to his girl with her butt high on the stuffie, shifting with slow, needy rolls. the same way you ride him, murmuring between sweet little moans. “fuck… daddy…” like it hurt to say.

he felt his dick stir with that one. with everything. the sight of your panty soaked, the way you're humping on your sweet teddy bear, the way you're clearly thinking about him.

but even so... he has rules you gotta follow. so he came closer to the bed and without even saying anything, he smacked your butt, taking you by surprise.

you gasped, surprised. but he didn’t let you move, if anything, he grabbed your hips and held you still.

“what have we talked about bad words?”

“d-daddy, i—“ another smack.

“what have we talked?”

you closed your eyes, cheeks burning red. “good girls don’t say curse words…”

“good job, sweet pea,” he said moving one of his hands to your slit, feeling the slick fabric. “now, you wanna explain what’s this?”

“i… i didn’t know you were home, daddy,” you swallowed.

“so this is what you do when i’m not home?” he answered, stroking your clit over the fabric with his thumb.

you moaned softly. “ah—yes, i… this the teddy bear you bought me,” you said between breathy moans. “but it reminds me of you, daddy,”

“so that’s what you do? humping this thinking about your daddy?” you nodded slowly.

just the idea of his girl doing something so filthy thinking about him can make him fully hard. and it did.

“show me,” he said with a raspy voice. “show daddy how you ride the teddy bear.”

𐙚 ・₊✧ ♡🧸

[dreadark]

wiege vs karma... hyuna's hope for humanity vs mizi's complete hopelessness

if the question is, what's the point of alien stage, this is probably the answer

we know hyuna rivals luka in singing talent, but she still lost to some nobody in season 49, likely because she couldn't bring herself to be responsible for someone's death and then the moment she escapes she tries dragging herself right back into anakt garden to save others, even when she's missing a leg

her selfless love for humanity is a constant

this is why she couldn't stop loving luka too, despite how much he hurt her she just always sees the best in people... even if this comes at a cost to herself

meanwhile mizi... well she said it plainly

since most of the suffering she saw was caused by other humans, and she was treated well by the segyein (in her view, anyway...) she can't imagine a happy ending even in freedom

after all she was the one who killed sua by not stopping her sacrifice, another rebel killed hyuna (who she made run after her) and then she failed to rescue till ...it's a lot of her projecting her own self-hatred

(which brings to mind what hyuna says at the end of wiege... though it's directed at luka, with mizi's dialogue in karma being directed at hyuna... needing to forgive yourself seems to be a point here. to live with love you have to accept your own worst moments. and she can't do that)

and then outside herself

with everyone she cared for dead, she has no reason to even pretend to care about humanity

that's her last dialogue in the last episode of alien stage, so is that the point of it all?

...well, no. obviously. since till didn't actually die and it's that which finally gives mizi a sliver of hope too

she's completely ready to let herself die in the fire she caused until she hears till's heartbeat which means someone she cares about is still alive—that she isn't someone who can only crush others. so instead she disappears

wherever she ended up is a mystery, but...

it seems she finally forgave herself then

and of course, there's till himself if humanity was doomed, we definitely wouldn't have seen till live and finally become a proper rebel considering till is the one we see suffer the most at the hands of the segyein too... (honestly surprised a vivinos work ends this hopefully??)

the irony of these two opposing viewpoints is that what mizi did might have actually saved more people in the end...?

the rocket the rebels launched was, as far as I can tell, just full of cds. since that was jacob's dream to begin with

remember, earth was destroyed (you can see that in this image too) so it's not as if they could escape there the third image is an obvious reference to the voyager golden records (a time capsule) but since ALNST is themed around music it's probably literal cds of music. which serve the same purpose here

it's purely just a symbol of hope. not to say hope isn't important, but the rocket itself...

though what mizi said about hyuna was just her lashing out (if hyuna's actions were pointless, then losing her doesn't hurt as much, right?) what she said isn't entirely wrong, either

You were running away from the very beginning Not once did you face your real feelings Did clinging to some noble cause or sense of justice ever really fix anything?

sure it's a noble cause, but what is this accomplishing, actually?

hyuna is so "selfless" she ignores her own feelings about luka and hyunwoo, until her death. though she does believe in the rebellion unlike mizi, she is still using it as an escape

and remember, hyuna prioritized this mission over trying to rescue till (or luka for that matter)

I doubt she wanted to initially (as we see at the end of round 6, something clearly went wrong. can't imagine mizi tagging along if she wasn't going to save her friends either) and maybe it was just too risky to break directly into the final round of ALNST after that but the end result is that she chose "humanity" in general over another (selfish?) rescue mission

even if we assume the rebels had some plan to get out despite showing up on the main stage of like the most televised event in segyein society (...) there's till no way he would've been able to survive if not for what mizi did

and now he's the one who embodies humanity's hope!

carrying hyuna's legacy, but was saved by mizi (and mizi was saved by sua in the first place, and till was only able to get to round 7 because of ivan... neither were saved by any noble cause but just selfish love. and "love" like this is what defines humanity...)

though this didn't change the status quo humans being enslaved by segyein (obviously) it seems like the disaster mizi caused put an end to ALNST at least. now all that's left of it is the controversial "alnst museum" (which till is about to destroy anyway)

this certainly wasn't any kind of plan from her end. mizi just wanted to tear everything down no matter who died with her (some kids in the audience probably did die tbf) but somehow this was the outcome

...basically, it's mizi's selfishness that proves hyuna’s hope for humanity right. don't lose hope but don't lose yourself either

because if even this "witch" can save someone, that must mean humanity has a chance too

[kwanniverse]

words that bleed

pairing: idol seungcheol x reader troupe: already lovers genre(s): est. relationship, angsty (i decided to split up into 3 parts cuz i wanted a part with ot13 only as it fit the vibe more so the fluff is unfortunately only coming tonight or tmr!) warning(s): swearing/cursing word count: ~1.4k summary: five words- he knows he fucked up.

svt defending her against their own brother is so green forest coded ugh #where to find men like that irl

pt 2 of seungcheol short series, read pt1, "words hurt more than you think." here!

work all mine, no reposting without creds, no stealing of published work, copyrighted:D

"hyung what the hell was that?" hoshi spat, anger shown by the way his veins looked like they might explode. "you didn't have to be so harsh." though softer, dk's words were laced with a certain apprehensive tension and annoyance. dino scowled, "cheol hyung, that wasn't you we saw a few moments ago. that wasn't the cheol we know." "yeah man, the insults weren't necessary, geez..." vernon mumbled under his breath. jun snapped a little too loudly, "ya, choi seungcheol, who the actual fuck do you think you are?" seungkwan backed him up (with maybe a little too much cursing), "why did you yell at y/n like that? we know you're an ass, a dickhead, no you know what? a jerk asshole bastard, but keep your shit to yourself!" usually the members would say something to this, but no one did, everyone's eyes only focused on glaring at their leader. joshua, the ever carefree gentle one, blurted out before the words could properly form in his head, "cheol, she's not a toy you can play around with cause literally is that how you treat a woman?" "red flag, y/n gotta avoid this one-" minghao murmured, wonwoo finishing his sentence right after, "hyung if i were her i would dump your stupid ass." "i mean, she's kinda you're girlfriend, or might be ex now HA!"jeonghan giggled, although the sharpness in his tone showed how he really felt. "hope she dumps your ass too!" mingyu was more than angry though, as someone closer to y/n, he was about to grab seungcheol's collar but the other members stopped it before anything could happen. "just saying cheol, you don't know just how much words can hurt someone else, especially y/n." woozi said quietly.

"no it's okay, come at me...i deserved that." the man in question finally spoke, the whole room silencing itself once again.

"...WHAT?"

"are you bipolar or-"

"bro i swear to god get your shitty act toGETHER"

"you've officially lost it, i'm out." vernon muttered, storming toward the door, muttering curses under his breath as if just being in the same room was making his skin itch.

but seungcheol didn’t move. not even a twitch. he stood still, eyes lowered, as if bracing for something more than fists. "you all think i don’t know?" his voice came out quiet, almost swallowed by the air itself. "you think i don’t realise what i did?" no one answered. "then why the hell did you do it?" mingyu’s voice cracked, louder now, breaking through the silence like thunder. "you think saying sorry makes it better? after the way she looked at you like she didn’t even recognise who the hell you were anymore?" "she flinched, hyung," dino muttered, his jaw tight, hands shaking. "she flinched when you raised your voice. she never does that. not even with you." "and you didn’t even care," joshua said, and the usual softness in his voice was gone, replaced by something cold. "you didn’t even look at her after." "i saw it," jeonghan muttered, and his eyes were glassy with fury. "i saw the moment you broke her. and you just stood there like a statue while she stood there trying to hold herself together. she was fucking trembling, hyung."

"i know."

seungcheol’s voice cracked on that second word. like it physically hurt to say. "i know." he said again, a little softer this time, as if repeating it would make it real. "then what the fuck is wrong with you?" hoshi barked. "what the actual fuck is going on with you?" woozi, the one who was listening in silence finally spoke, his voice dark as everyone gulped. seungcheol inhaled sharply, like the air was knives. "i don’t know. everything’s been… boiling. i’ve been on edge for weeks. months, maybe. i thought if i pushed her away first, if i gave her a reason to hate me, she wouldn’t see everything else falling apart underneath."

"so you punished her for your chaos?" seungkwan’s voice shot out like a blade. "that’s not pain, hyung. that’s cowardice." "you treated her like trash and now you’re pretending it was for her own good?" minghao added, each word like acid. "god, that’s so fucking manipulative." "i didn’t mean it to be," seungcheol said, voice shaking now. "i just… i thought i was protecting her from the worst of me." "newsflash," jeonghan bit out, "she still got the worst of you." "and she loved you anyway," dino said, voice barely audible. "even while you tore her down, she was still standing there trying to understand you. begging you to just talk to her. and you looked her in the eyes and told her she didn’t matter."

"i said she was just another distraction," seungcheol whispered. and the room cracked. "you what?" mingyu’s voice rose, and he looked ready to punch a wall. "you said that to her fucking face?" "why? to push her away? to see how fast you could make her bleed?" seungkwan growled. "i saw her afterwards, you know?" wonwoo finally spoke, slow and deliberate, like every word was carved in stone. "sitting in the hallway, not even crying. just… empty. like you drained every last bit of her and didn’t even notice."

"i noticed," seungcheol said.

his voice cracked. this time, there was no hiding it.

"i noticed," he repeated, barely above a whisper. "i noticed the second it was too late. when she stepped back and wouldn’t meet my eyes. when she said ‘okay’ like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart." "then why didn’t you stop?" woozi asked, and his voice wasn’t angry anymore. it was worse. it was disappointed.

"because i was scared," seungcheol confessed. and for the first time, it sounded like the truth. "scared that one day she’d see through me. realize i’m not who she thought i was. that she deserves someone better. that i’m just this… broken thing trying to pretend i know how to love." "so you self-destructed and dragged her down with you," minghao said.

"i didn’t mean to."

"but you did," hoshi snapped. "intentions don’t erase consequences." "you don’t deserve her," jeonghan muttered. "not after this. not anymore." seungcheol closed his eyes.

"i know."

he looked tired. not the kind of tired sleep could fix. the kind that made you wonder if you’d ever feel whole again. "i’m not asking to be forgiven. not by her. not by you. i’m not asking for anything. i just needed to say it. out loud. without pretending i didn’t fuck up." "you didn’t just fuck up," seungkwan said, staring straight at him. "you shattered someone who loved you unconditionally. and that kind of damage doesn’t come with second chances." "you destroyed something beautiful," woozi whispered. "on purpose. and no amount of guilt brings that back." mingyu snapped, his voice fiercer than he had ever been. "you broke her. you broke her. and you’re still standing here like you’re the one bleeding."

"i am bleeding!" seungcheol suddenly shouted, his voice cracking open like a wound.

"you think this isn’t killing me? you think i didn’t see her hands shaking when she tried to pick up her bag and leave? you think i didn’t hear the way her voice cracked when she asked me what she did wrong? you think i didn’t notice how small she looked when she walked away like she didn’t want to be seen crying? i saw all of it. and i didn’t stop her."

"then you’re worse than we thought," jeonghan muttered, disgusted. "because that means you chose to watch her break." "you were supposed to protect her," woozi said, arms crossed tightly, jaw locked. "you were supposed to be the one she ran to, not the one she ran from." "i was scared she’d leave," seungcheol whispered. "so you left first," joshua said. "don’t dress it up as fear. you abandoned her before she had the chance to hurt you. and in doing that, you crushed her." "and now she’s gone," minghao added. "and maybe she won’t come back. not after this. not after you." "good," mingyu muttered, eyes red. "she deserves better anyway."

seungcheol didn’t argue. he didn’t cry. he just stood there. and for once, not a single one of them moved to catch him. because this time, he had to fall.

and feel every damn second of it.

[koenigami]

“skyhaven - x02. 20th neural control experiment. test subject is starting to adapt. prepare higher voltage-”

there’s a deep voice that documents the horrific video recordings. your hands shake, fingers hovering above the computer keys as you contemplate whether to stop your suffering. or rather, his suffering?

mechanical sounds and buzzes fill the dark room you've snuck inside. when his whimpers and pain induced groans reach your ears, your stomach drops. goosebumps litter your skin, and you swear you start feeling nauseous.

confidential files related to protocores. that’s what you came here for initially. caleb himself had made sure you could easily snoop around a bit through the fleet's archives, of course only with restricted access to limited files and programs.

the pictures and videos of your lover being tortured and experimented on until he was barely conscious… those have not been locked away behind a secret passcode.

just as you’re about to pull the usb drive out and turn everything off, unable to watch him suffer any longer, the sound of a door falling shut behing you catches your attention.

“did you find what you were looking-”

caleb freezes and swallows thickly once he recognizes his own voice in the background, the video still playing. almost as if on loop. the same procedures over and over again. never ending torture. instinctively, his left hand moves up to clutch his right arm, the all too familiar phantom pain flaring up again once he sees his own convulsing body on the monitor.

“caleb…”

but none of the pain compares to the one that shoots through his chest once he notices the look on your face. he's seen you terrified before. he's been with you at the haunted house in town when you were younger. he's held you through the strongest storms, and comforted you in the darkest nights when sleep wouldn’t come easy to you. but this-

“pips.” your body recoils when his hand reaches out to you, his fingertips barely grazing your wet cheek.

he knows that the betrayal runs deep because he’s never uttered a word to you about the things that he’s been through. nervously, he combs his fingers through his hair while he watches you frantically approach the desk again and close the tab of the video. though the silence doesn’t last long.

“they hurt you.” shaken, breathless. as if you've been physically put through the same pain that he has been through.

“it wasn’t that bad-”

“it was.” once the first sob escapes you, you’re unable to control them. on shaky legs, you eventually do take careful steps towards him as if he were a wounded animal. that’s why he didn’t tell you. he's not deserving of your pity. it's only his burden to bear. “i don’t even want to imagine how much pain y-you had to endure.”

all alone. by himself. not a single soul to hold his hand through the atrocious experiments that they conducted on him. no one to confide in. just your caleb, all by himself. your soft cries and sniffs pierce his heart like daggers when you try to muffle them behind your palm.

“no, no, no… hey, c'mere.” his warm embrace envelops you instantly like a safe cocoon, though instead you wish you could have done the same for him during his darkest times. you feel his lips on the side of your head as he hushes you gently, his right arm around your waist so steady yet so cold. “it’s okay. to be honest, i barely even remember a thing.”

he doesn’t. but his body does, and so does his subconsciousness since otherwise he wouldn’t be plagued by nightly dreams that remind him of every single second spent in that lab.

“i won't-” your throat bobs as you try to take a breath, and you feel caleb's hand press into your spine to straighten your back. with your iron grip on his uniform, it’s as if you feared he would slip right through your hands. but it’s your next words that make his stomach churn and tears sting his own eyes. “i won’t let them hurt you again, caleb. i promise.”

and you’re going to hunt them down. every single one of them.

[fawndrip]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 build a fic! 　ﾟ･｡･

(pick a quote + a feeling + a trope ! let’s see what fic you end up with.)

author's addition: this lil build-a-fic is inspired by @scealaiscoite ’s adorable idea ! her prompt lists are literal perfection. go stalk her blog pls she’s the best ever 🧸

— a quote !

☆ “stop smiling like that. it’s distracting.”

☆ “you make it really hard to stay just friends.”

☆ “why does it feel like a goodbye?”

☆ “you’re blushing.” — “no i’m not.”

☆ “just friends don’t look at each other like that.”

☆ “i missed you. that’s all.”

☆ “you remember the little things. that’s what gets me.”

☆ “tell me to stay. and i will.”

☆ “my hand fits so perfectly in yours. it's like i'm made for you”

☆ “do you want me to leave?” — “no. i want you to stay forever.”

☆ “i think i knew it was you. even back then.” — “then stay.” — “but that's the thing. i don't know if i know you anymore.”

☆ “i don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

☆ “this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t.”

☆ “you’re not just anyone. you’re you.”

☆ “if we kiss now, everything changes.” — “i know but that's a risk i'm willing to take.”

☆ “i’ve been in love with you since the night we met.”

☆ “tell me it meant nothing. lie if you have to.”

☆ “i was easy to leave, wasn’t i?”

☆ “you don’t get to miss me now. you lost that right when we broke up.”

☆ “say something. anything. please.”

☆ “i loved you. that should’ve been enough.”

☆ “i wish i didn’t remember everything.”

☆ “don’t look at me like you still care.”

☆ “i’m tired of pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

☆ “you said forever. i believed you.”

☆ “if you didn’t mean it, why did you say it?”

☆ “you chose them. you always do.”

☆ “i don’t hate you. i just wish i’d never met you.”

☆ “you let me go like i was nothing.”

☆ “please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

☆ “are you sure? cause whatever this is it doesn’t feel like love.”

☆ “it’s always been you. i just didn’t know how to say it.”

☆ “say that again. i dare you.”

☆ “you really don’t see it, do you?”

☆ “i think i like you. like, like like you.”

☆ “do you always look at people like that?”

☆ “you make it really hard to think straight.”

☆ “oh my god. you’re blushing.”

☆ “this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t.”

☆ “i should’ve kissed you when i had the chance.”

☆ “you’re not helping. you’re being pretty. it's distracting.”

☆ “you make me nervous in the best way.”

☆ “every time you look at me, i forget what i was saying.”

☆ “just admit it. you like me.”

☆ “if you don’t kiss me right now, i might explode.”

☆ “you’re dangerously good at that smile.”

— a feeling !

♡ longing ♡ comfort ♡ fear ♡ hope ♡ guilt ♡ joy ♡ jealousy ♡ trust ♡ confusion ♡ safety ♡ regret ♡ tenderness ♡ ache ♡ peace ♡ want ♡ yearning ♡ hesitation ♡ betrayal ♡ relief ♡ pride ♡ vulnerability ♡ nostalgia ♡ admiration ♡ disbelief ♡ grief ♡ devotion ♡ loneliness ♡ warmth ♡ embarrassment ♡ desire

— a trope !

☾ only one bed ☾ mutual pining ☾ fake dating gone real ☾ friends to lovers ☾ strangers to almosts ☾ found family ☾ rivals with tension ☾ the “oh” moment ☾ confessions at 2am ☾ sunshine x grump ☾ forbidden ☾ hurt/comfort ☾ secretly in love ☾ reunion after years ☾ accidental domesticity ☾ slow burn ☾ “just friends” denial ☾ second chances ☾ love letters never sent ☾ childhood friends ☾ exes ☾ soulmates who don’t believe in fate ☾ enemies on the same side ☾ sleep talking confessions ☾ one falling first, the other falling harder ☾ patching up wounds with shaky hands ☾ “who did this to you?” ☾ dancing in the kitchen ☾ jealousy over nothing (but also everything) ☾ late-night phone calls ☾ caught in the rain ☾ almost kissing but someone interrupts ☾ waking up next to them ☾ fixing each other’s tie/collar ☾ taking care of them while they’re sick

GIVE CREDITS TO @iamgonnagetyouback / @fawndrip

[firelilyfox]

Forgiveness Denied

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Summary: Right after the funeral, Bucky disappears without a word. You set everything to find him, clueless why he left. Wordcount: 1k Warnings: hurt/comfort. angst!. tears. guilt.

___________

He disappeared for several days.

Everyone on the team was very worried about Bucky after he got out of the dust in one night and fog action. Without saying goodbye. Each of your breaths felt like your last, it hurt so much not to know where he was.

After the rest of humanity had returned out of nowhere and the world was spinning at an indefinable pace, nothing was the same.

After Tony had given his life for us, nothing was like before.

The grief had burned into the bones of all of us, paralyzing us and making it almost impossible to look forward.

"Have you heard anything new?"

Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at you shaking his head. “I'm really sorry, kiddo. He seems to have been swallowed by the ground. Not even Friday could track him down.”

Cursed Winter Soldier experience. If anyone knew how to leave no trace, it was James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve entered the room and let his worried gaze wander over the flickering screens. Data from surveillance cameras was compared on each individual. Facial recognition. Everyone is looking for Bucky. All programmed by you.

"When was the last time you slept?"

You sigh in annoyance. “I can do that when I find him. Until then, I won't be a blind eye anyway.”

“I understand how you feel. We're all worried about him. But it's no use looking for him this way. He will show up when he's ready.” Steve put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it to signal you that you were not alone with your fear for Bucky.

"Why did he disappear in the first place?" Your voice sounded small and broken.

You feel the tears gather in your eyes, try in vain to blink them away and look back at Steve and Sam. They gave each other a telling look.

"What? What do you know?”

Sam cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I only have the assumption that he has his reasons for it. As annoying as this old man may be, he does nothing about the affect.

“I know Buck. Even then, he always dealt with his problems with himself. However, disappearing is also new to me. Especially because he disappeared right after the funeral," Steve added.

"Do you think it would be possible ...?" You didn't need to finish the sentence to know that your train of thought would be confirmed by them.

Just thinking about it made you sick.

Even if it took a lot of persuasion from Steve and Sam, you finally agree to give yourself a break from the search. To eat something - or rather to stare at the lovingly prepared casserole of May Parker and finally to throw it away.

You slip into your room, close the door quietly behind you and let yourself slide down it with your eyes closed. Your heart cramped painfully in your chest. Tightened your breath and made you feel like you were dying a little bit.

Where is he? Why did he leave without saying anything? Was he okay?

The lump in your throat got bigger with every second. You open your eyes and drive together in fright. There was someone sitting on your bed. You could only distinguish a silhouette in the darkness that remained motionless on the edge of the bed.

You would recognize the shadow everywhere. "Bucky?"

He didn't answer, didn't raise his head to look at you. His elbows were supported on his knees and he continued to stare at the ground between his feet.

You get up, sway briefly and run to him. You sink to your knees in front of him, the tears now flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks and left wet marks on your skin.

“Are you hurt? Bucky, what happened?” The words just bubbled out of you. You touch his hands and notice that they were wet. Strictly speaking, his whole body was dripping. He was wearing a suit. Still the suit he wore at the funeral. Bucky smelled of rain and he was completely soaked.

"I'm fine," he murmured.

You bend your head to catch his gaze, which was still fixed on the ground. You gently put your hands on his cheeks, he allowed it.

"That's not true."

He smiled sadly. "I know." Bucky looked at you and you realized how red his eyes were. He must have cried for hours to look so carried away.

"What happened?" you repeat your question, quieter this time.

Bucky hesitated. You could feel his jaw tense under your fingers. His cloudy, blue eyes tried to escape your gaze, but always found their way back to you.

Finally, he raised his right hand and wiped a tear from your cheek. “I didn't know what else to do. For me it was always just fight or flight. I couldn't fight, so I fled.”

"You ran away because you couldn't apologize anymore. Am I right?” you whisper.

Bucky stiffened and looked at you as if moved by thunder. "Where - how do you know that?"

“Steve and Sam made me think. I was too busy looking for you that I didn't ask myself why.” You put your hands flat on his chest and then slowly let them wander up to his shirt collar. "But it makes sense."

He nodded silently. "I'm sorry to give you such worries, doll. I wanted to keep you out of my mind.”

"Don't say that." You move closer to him, so that you now kneel between his bent legs. "Bucky, your mess is my mess. I'm here for you. Always. I'm sorry you felt like you had to run away.”

His Adam's apple jumped as if he had to swallow a lump in his throat. "It's just... I wanted to apologize to him. At Tony's. For that I took him - that I took his parents. His voice sounded rough and quite scratchy from emerging tears. "I wanted to make up for it."

„Bucky-…“ 

No more words were needed. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. Bucky didn't hesitate and returned the hug.

Hard.

The pressure with which he held on to you almost took the air to breathe, but you allow it. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and began to sob.

With steady movements, your fingers ran through his hair and you pressed your lips gently to his trembling shoulders. So you stay for some time. You let him find comfort with you and he let you hold him. A silent contract between two hearts.

As he slowly detached himself from you, he took your face in his hands and looked at you extensively. "When was the last time you slept, doll?"

Without a doubt, you gave off a miserable appearance with dark circles under your eyes. You brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “I could ask you the same.”

Without a word, you rise. Bucky got rid of the soaked suit and you wiped off your clothes. You crawl under the duvet, snuggled together and let the darkness envelop you like a protective bubble.

Bucky held you as if you were his anchor and you clung to him. Your leg snaked over his hip and your fingers drew soothing circles on his bare back. After a while, you feel how his breathing calms down and became more and more even.

Only when Bucky had fallen asleep, you also allow yourself to find peace.

_________________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't copy my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[brittle-doughie]

I feel like, in the Compassion AU, Y/N could still remember faint traces of their past—even after the Beast took their life. Not full memories, not names or faces, but fragments of warmth and longing. Moments. Emotions. They don’t remember who those friends were—only what they were called: “The Seeker,” “The Fountain,” “The Herald”… titles that feel both distant and achingly familiar. Even the moment the Beast ended their life remains as a shadowed ache, echoing in the cracks of their soul jam.

And it does crack—because of course it did. They died. The Beast killed them, and the Witch brought them back. But something in them never healed.

(imagine the scenario of y/n looking pure vannila soul jam before the beast-yeast event )

It was a peaceful afternoon in the garden, shaded by a tall tree. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves. GingerBrave and his friends laughed in the distance, tumbling down a grassy hill in childish joy.

Y/N sat quietly beside Pure Vanilla beneath the tree. The wind tugged gently at their clothes, but they didn’t notice. Their gaze was fixed—haunted, even—as they stared at Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. Their expression wasn’t one of joy or wonder.

It was a quiet sadness. A stillness that hurt to look at too long.

Pure Vanilla, sensing the heaviness in the air, turned slightly toward them.

“Dear friend… I notice you’re staring at my soul jam,” he said, voice warm but laced with concern. “Is something on your mind?”

Y/N blinked, startled from their thoughts. Their eyes shifted slowly toward him, their face softening just slightly—but the sadness didn’t leave.

“…Oh. It’s nothing,” they murmured.

“It’s just… your soul jam reminds me of someone. Someone I once cared for deeply. They had a soul jam just like yours…”

Their voice trailed off. Slowly, Y/N looked away, toward the hill where GingerBrave and the others played. Their hand rested in their lap, thumb brushing idly over the faint cracks in their own soul jam.

“…I’m sorry,” they added quietly. “It’s a little… sensitive. But when I look at your soul jam, it reminds me of someone I used to know. A friend. From before we met.”

They swallowed, the next words heavy on their tongue.

“…Not everything stays the same. People change. And sometimes… not for the better.”

Y/N’s voice lowered, barely audible, as if they were afraid of the truth they carried.

“…And sometimes, they become something you don’t recognize. Something you’re afraid of.”

Their words trembled with emotion—guilt, longing, fear. The truth threatened to spill out.

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, gentle but confused. “What was that?”

Y/N blinked hard and shook their head quickly.

“…It’s fine! Really—it’s fine.” They forced a small, broken laugh. “I have something different now.”

Pure Vanilla smiled softly. “Something different?”

Y/N glanced away, a faint blush touching their cheeks.

“You know… you.. Guys.”

The weight in the air lifted slightly as the two of them shared a quiet laugh, a soft moment in the shade of the tree.

But far away, in the quiet corners of Pure Vanilla’s soul jam, Shadow Milk Cookie watched.

Watched as Y/N laughed. Watched as they shared something he would never get back.

He clenched his fist, his voice barely a whisper.

“…This show sucks.”

Don’t touch that dial now, Shadow Milk Cookie. The show has only just begun.

[nmhk]

It's weird disappointing how the republican administrations and senators are so freely and readily able to lie about things to further their own agenda, and then get caught in the lie and somehow, every time, [weasel || porcupine || raccoon || fox || etc ad nauseum infinitum] their way out of it

And every 2 and 4 years we keep electing the same or similar liars back into office. But no, we don't need no education. No history lessons. No civics classes. Nah, we're good, looking at our screens, playing our distractions over and over again. While other countries leap ahead, and the class warfare goes seemingly unchecked.

We'll continue being temporarily embarrassed millionaires, abashed race car drivers, ashamed fashion models, forever looking to celebrities for guidance. Forever letting people in power tell us how to feel, who and whom to love or hate. Forever consuming without thought like ungulates chewing cud.

They say, "it's a dog eat dog world," because they want us to treat each other as animals, competing for scarce resources. But resources aren't scarce. How did our world population get over 8 billion? Mercantilism brought trade to the world, but developed into this cut throat capitalism which demands scarcity (usually faked) to survive.

Not buying into the system is how we kill it. We don't want politicians influenced by corporations (they are people, my friend)? Don't buy their products. Don't look at ads. Don't support the monetary system that is a zero- sum game. We can easily see the effects by looking at our monopoly board and counting how many people have x amount of fake money. Those on Boardwalk and Park Place? Yeah, that's not us, is it? You want to win this game? The only way is to step away from the board.

Yes, yes it is easier said than done. But bartering still works.

Blah blah blah

I can only hold this energy so long. As can you. We need to work together, support each other, stand in solidarity against those who try and break us apart.

I believe in universal interconnectedness. We are all connected in a way that is unexplained and poorly explored. I don't know how many of you remember nine-eleven, but the pick 3 and pick 4 numbers drawn coinciding with thousands of entries matching these numbers, while being chalked up to mere coincidence, could also either be one of two other things. 1) the system is obviously rigged (in whatever way is most plausible) 2) thousand of people putting their thoughts and aligning their [energy || Chakra || life force || pure will power || etc] into wanting these numbers to be drawn, not once, but on multiple occasions, speaks to me of something greater.

The more obvious scientific answer is a rigged system.

My whole point is we can change the system of we all work together. Yes, I know! I'm an idealistic idiot. So what? Does my hope for humanity stop your everyday travails? Does it hurt my interactions with others that I try to see the best version of them in conversation? Why would someone poo-poo the idea of wanting interconnectedness if it doesn't hurt anyone?

Oh. I'm getting it now. That kind of hope can turn into a religion. I see. If it's only faith-based, it's bad. Okay. Well. I guess humanity isn't full of artists who move you with simple pictures and words. I guess nature can only be seen through a scientific lens. I guess since beauty is immutably subjective, there is no such thing as a beautiful flower or a beautiful poem.

That's fine. Stick to your science and gadgets. Stick to your distractions and fears. Don't read fiction more deeply than the words on the page. The answer is simple. No, androids don't dream of electric sheep. No, robots aren't capable of growing beyond the rules you establish for them. No, consumerism is the only way for people to survive in a technological world.

I just hope for the best for you

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - 15

Order of Affairs

Mob Boss Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/faking death, mentions of depression, cursing, smut

A/n: Thank you all so much for reading! And for commenting and reblogging and sending asks. I absolutely adore chatting about this story with y’all and I’m so happy you care enough to want to discuss. Enjoy this chapter and new phase of our Mob babies!

Previous Chapter

____________________________________________

The kitchen buzzes with the unintelligible hum of the men in the other room, all of them gathered for the early morning meeting session Nico called a few days ago after your visit to the cemetery. Later than he would’ve preferred but things needed to be planned out, Timo needed to return home before he could make any big moves.

Jack’s overly excited voice rises above the others, flowing into the kitchen and you can’t help but smile to yourself. When Luke first told you that they always called Jack by the name of Rowdy growing up, you didn’t even have to question it. Bright and early on a Wednesday morning and he sounds like he’s at Disneyland.

“Black coffee? That’s not a good sign.”

You gasp at the familiar voice, abandoning Nico’s plain, bitter coffee on the counter in favor of whirling around. Timo is standing there, having just coming in through the garage door and even though it was only two weeks without him he looks different. Fuller maybe, happier for sure.

“You’re home!” You screech, and he laughs as Moose comes barreling in at the noise. Racing the dog across the kitchen, you wrap your arms around Timo and he does the same, squeezing you tightly. Moose sniffs at his pants and shoes.

“Worst trip of my life,” he says, jokingly. “2 weeks without you? Never again.”

Of course it wasn’t the worst trip of his life. He’s practically glowing from the inside out but the sentiment warms your heart anyway.

“Ugh I missed you so much.” You say, pulling back from him. He ruffles your hair, shoving you back towards the island so you can finish making your morning tea and add sugar to Nico’s coffee. Even though he told you not to.

He leans against the counter, turning up his nose at Nico’s mug. “He’s so stressed he’s abandoned creamer again?”

It’s a known thing between you two that when Nico has a lot going on, when he’s been dealing with something as stressful as the situation with your family, he gets laser focus. Focus that will apparently be hindered by any kind of sugar in his morning caffeine. You think he’s a little dramatic though and you hate kissing him after he’s had black coffee, the bitterness lingering on his breath, so you sneak in some sugar anyway.

“I don’t even know if he’s stressed,” you admit, “it’s more like he’s just so angry that this is all he cares about.”

Timo gives you a knowing look, “you mean you’re all he cares about.” Shrugging, you don’t verbally confirm his statement but the pleased smile you can’t contain says enough. Nico’s lost you too many times before and he’s not about to let it happen again at the hands of another family member.

“Seriously though,” he continues, playfulness gone as you mix in sugar cubes to your own cup of tea. “I mean this was a lot. Even if you’re going to downplay it for his sake or whatever. Your parents are fucked for what they did and I’m sure whatever Nico is doing is justified.”

Dropping a couple cubes into Nico’s cup, you shrug. “I know it’s justified. I’m the one that approved it all.” The kitchen goes still, your gaze locked on where you’re stirring the sugar around the mug. The only sound is the drag of the spoon and the chatter of the boys in the other room.

Timo ducks his head down, catching your gaze with a giddy smirk. “You approved it all? Really?”

“Well don’t be so surprised,” you scoff, “I beat you and Nico in Switzerland didn’t I? Besides, he promised me then that I get to have a say in getting back at people who hurt me so.”

Timo snickers, totally pleased and when you meet his gaze with a shy grin he’s beaming so wide his smile looks like it’s about to fall off the sides of his face.

“Thank god,” he laughs, “I was thinking I’d come home and you’d be going rouge again. Hopefully taking me with you this time.”

You roll your eyes. “I could never go completely rouge on Nico, you know that.” He gives you an imploring look and you sigh. “Of course I’d invite you this time Timo.”

He reaches across the island to ruffle your hair. “I’d go with this time, just for the record.”

“I think Nico would too,” you laugh, “but tell me about Switzerland! How was Amelia? Is she going to come visit?”

Timo doesn’t get the chance to respond. Nico is in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he nods back towards the dining room. “He can tell you later. Meeting is starting.”

You both stand up straighter at his tone, shifting from playful to all business. Timo purses his lips, motioning for you to go first and you do, Nico’s coffee in hand while yours sits on the counter to cool. You hand it to him as you pass, pressing a kiss to the harsh line of his clenched jaw in hopes that it eases him a little bit. His features don’t relax, but he pats at your side appreciatively. Him and Timo share a brief hug in greeting, the three of you lining up at the end of the table packed full of every Devils mob member.

Nico takes a sip of his coffee, setting it on the table top and the room falls quiet, Jack and Luke waving at you from their seats just to the left of Nico. You smile, wiggling your fingers back at them as Nico clears his throat.

“I know this is a different look to our usual meetings,” he begins, hands on his hips. “And I know you all know what that means.”

The hush that has taken over the room feels heavy, strained by Nico’s confirmation that this isn’t just a regular weekly meeting. It was obvious from the nervous chatter earlier that they did in fact know something was up. Nico has never moved a meeting to a private location. That’s only done when there’s a shift from the normal practices and laws of the Devils. When Nico first explained to you how their meetings work, he’d briefly mentioned his ability to move meeting locations. He’d only ever do it when he needed something to stay entirely between him and the Devils. It’s used for extra protective measures that way when Nico changes rules or protocols, he can insure it stays within the group. It gives them a cushion of surprise against an enemy.

You don’t know if the boys are aware of who this enemy is today. Of course the ones that had been with you that day know, but you have no clue what Nico has told the others. Maybe he hasn’t said anything and that’s why so many of them eagerly lean forward, hanging on his every word.

“There’s going to be some changes for the time being. I don’t have a timeline on how long you’ll have to abide by them but you will follow everything I say today until I give word.”

He pauses for a moment to let it sink in, the words hanging in the air far more grave than they should be. Alex catches your eye, his eyebrows pinched together in worry and you give him a reassuring nod. Nico has to be serious for this because it is serious. He’s not trying to scare Alex or any of the boys, he just needs them to know that this is important.

“The following protocols are to be memorized and used 24/7. Meaning you’re all on shift, always. Even when you’re at home, you keep them in practice, got it?”

A chorus of agreement comes from the table. Nico eyes them all for another beat before continuing, his tone not as barking anymore. His eyes stay dark and observing through, his jaw still clenched. The knuckles of his hands are white where they’re gripping his sides.

“This first one is the most important and I want no arguing or negotiating on it,” Nico sends Alex and the Hughes boys a pointed look. “Y/n is with me at all times. If either of us have to go in for work, we go together. Other than that, we’ll be running everything out of the house here.”

Alex gives you another worried look but doesn’t attempt to argue or question Nico. You have a feeling he’s waiting though until it’s just you two and him. He’d never question his boss in front of everyone, but he will ask his guardian after they’ve all left.

“With that in place, Timo is taking over all face-to-face business with Hischier Enterprises. Everyone under that side will report to him in person and follow what he says. For matters that absolutely require y/n, you come here or do it over the phone. Unless I say so, she won’t be at the penthouse. And you’re all still in charge of wellness checks and emergency signals without her. Timo will work out a schedule with you guys.”

Timo takes a step forward, pointing a finger at the line of boys that work under you and him. At his gesture, they all sit up a little straighter.

“Merc you’re with me now. All the second hand stuff you were doing before is the same, it’s just you’re my second hand for now.”

Your best friend steps back in line with you and Nico, Mercer’s gaze falling to you questioningly. Amused, you step up now, nodding at him.

“Keep training under Timo,” you tell him, “have his back the same way you did with mine. As for the rest of you…”

The three boys wait with wide and expectant eyes, intently waiting for instruction from you. “Johnny and Alex will stick together on all assignments, and while you’re technically still under the Enterprise, you’ll be following special orders from Nico and I. You’ll report here every morning instead of the penthouse.”

Just like you thought he would, Alex relaxes back into his seat, features softening into an almost pleased smile. Luke, however, has put together that with you out of the day-to-day picture, he’s now the odd man out, and his desperate gaze reflects that.

“You’ll be back with Jack,” you tell him, “the two of you will split time between handling some things for Timo and me, and handling other tasks on Nico’s side.”

Your fiancé steps in then, a heavy hand finding your lower back as he moves to your side. Addressing Jack, he says, “You’re going to have to step up a bit, do more for Jesp and Jonas who will be covering my post, yeah?”

Jack nods, bringing his hand up to his forehead in a far too serious salute. Nico ignores him, nudging you back when you let out a giggle. Your part is done now, at least for the rest of the meeting so you stand silently next to Timo, listening intently even though you’re already aware of the new rules.

“The boys working with me,” Nico starts, crossing his arms over his chest again. “I’m upping surveillance meaning I’m also upping everyone’s shifts. You’ll also be on a buddy system. Jonas and Jesp will give you your assignments after the meeting.

“These aren’t just bar watch assignments. The whole city is to be monitored. On top of camera surveillance, you’ll have patrolling shifts with your buddy. Our target areas are Devs protected establishments, particularly ones in Jersey City.”

If any of the boys realize his intentions with the new rules, they don’t react to it. Aside for your boys, you’re not exactly sure what the others know of your past. They know you’re from here, that you lost your family for this like so many others did. But you can’t even begin to guess what they’ve all been told about your journey into Nico’s life.

Do they know about the cemetery? About the deli too? Has Nico let anyone know that you’ve been disowned and treated like trash by your parents? They probably could guess it by Nico’s new protocols. Everyone knows he would never let anyone get away with disrespecting you. He’s said before that he’d burn cities and wage wars for you. Do they know that’s what he’s doing now?

Are all of these men eager to get in the line of fire for you?

“Last but not least,” Nico runs a thoughtful hand through his hair, settling it on his hip. “I’m putting the word out. Any business with Devs horns on the window is forbidden from serving y/n’s family. Names and photos will be distributed and any form of business, in person or not, is not permitted.”

There’s an almost still reaction, like the air in the room grows solid at his words. In all his years in New Jersey, Nico has never laid out such a rule for their businesses. He never wanted to be the cruel boss, never wanted to take away from the creativity and free flow of the city that made it so great. Nico loves New Jersey, you know that, the boys know that. This shift in rules particularly says enough.

He’s drawing battle lines. He’s getting a step ahead because for the first time, Nico is preparing the Devils for the biggest defensive action they’ve ever taken. They’re not just surviving now, not just living in the fabrics of New Jersey. He is preparing for their first territory battle.

All of it at the defense of you.

It doesn’t hit you lightly.

Since joining the Devils, you knew your place in the family was different. Nico had always told you as much, Timo had warned you from the get-go. You would never just be a member. Unlike the others, you didn’t come to Nico and join out of circumstance. No, he came to you. Nico made the space for you here. More so, he made that space a place of leadership and power.

He changed the entire layout of Devils so that you ruled alongside him. Most other families simply marry the women into the group and rely on them to bring up the next generation of members.

Nico didn’t bring you into the Devs for that, to be a wife and a mother, to be a homemaker. He brought you in because he loves you, because he wants to share the family he built with you. And he wants you to keep building it by his side rather than from his shadow.

It’s a lot to take in, being loved so much. Especially coming off the low of being cut out by your family. Their only daughter, the miracle baby they never thought they’d have, and yet they let that miracle fade out. Your parents are living the lonely, childless, two-income life they used to say they feared. And it’s all at their own hand.

Knowing that they’d rather live in their worst nightmare than with you being happy hurts in a way you can’t explain. It’s the same feeling you’d imagine Luke and Jack have towards their family. Alex too, especially with the state of his departure from Sweden. At least the Hughes boys have contact with their mother.

You and Alex have nothing of the sort. Unloved, unspoken of, forgotten and abandoned by the mothers that were supposed to love you unconditionally and whole heartedly.

Nico dismisses the meeting with a final order for them all to touch base with either Jonas and Jesper, or Timo and Mercer in the case of your boys. Your best friend has only a moment to pass by you, briefly touching the bend of your elbow with a reassuring gaze as he heads to gather with the younger boys.

Lost in thought, you stare at Nico’s abandoned coffee mug on the table top until he’s touching the small of your back, fingers warm through the thin fabric of your cotton tee.

“You okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased in concern when you blink up at him, lightly shaking your head out of its stupor. Now that he’s no longer running the meeting, and a such a serious one at that, you tuck into his body, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Yeah,” you promise, “it’s just a lot.”

You don’t have to further explain because he already knows. It’s a lot to do for just you. Even though you looked over this plan with him and approved of it all, it still feels like too much for just you. Him putting the boys in danger like this, pulling focus away from whatever was going on over in New York.

What if he misses something significant there because he’s too focused here? Too focused on you?

“For you,” he murmurs, gravely “it’s not enough. You’ve spent years missing them, hoping that one day they’d come around just to be hurt beyond reason. With us, with me, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make up for that.”

Rising to your toes, you press a kiss to the scar on the corner of his lips, then another to his mouth, smiling when his hold on your waist tightens.

“I know. I’m just worried that we’re going to miss something else because we’re so busy with this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Miss something like the Rags?” At your hum of confirmation he continues. “We’re not going to miss anything. Lee is keeping an eye out and with you and me being together all the time, we’ll pay attention. There’s enough of us to deal with your family and deal with whatever Trouba is up to.”

You hadn’t thought of that before. How being home with Nico everyday will open up your schedules now. Even if the sole focus is work, you’re bound to get time with just him. Unless there’s an absolute emergency, he’s all yours.

A part of you warms at the thought. You’ve missed him lately. It feels like ever since you got back from the hot mess that was Vancouver, you only see him at night or the couple hours put aside to teach him to drive the new car. At this point though, he’s pretty much got it down and your lessons have turned into driving around the city with the windows down, having sex in the backseat, and then going for food. Not that you’re complaining but it’ll be nice to be at home with him more often.

“I don’t want to be on lockdown Nico,” you say though, thinking of Switzerland. You had this conversation then and you’re hoping to god he didn’t just forget it. “Please don’t ask me to stay in the house with 24 hour surveillance. I want to actually help and actually be a part of it.”

He smiles down at you with mirth, pretty dimples in his cheeks and eyes moony with fondness. Something else glints there too, underneath all that warmth and love, a look of pride, and you know he didn’t forget.

“You won’t be,” Nico assures, tucking your hair behind your ear. He takes your chin between two fingers, his thumb tracing over the dip of it with a touch so soft it makes your whole chest grow hot. “I’m not locking you up in a tower and leaving you here. The reason you’re going to be with me all the time is for emergencies. If something happens with the guys, I need you close so you can make a decision right away.

“You’re leading us here, baby. I’m just the messenger.”

Almost giddy, you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl at his words. It makes him chuckle too, tucking his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. Faintly, you wonder if maybe you and him are crazy. Laughing and kissing over the knowledge that together you’re both about to make your parents lives absolute hell. Maybe the mob did change you, did make you in this unrecognizable and unredeemable person.

Alex sidles up and you break back from Nico to pull him into a hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back in greeting. You didn’t really see the boys when they got here this morning, not that there was much time for chatting with them anyway. Though you wish there had been because Alex is turning to Nico before you’ve even fully let go of him.

“I want to stay with you guys,” he says firmly, to no one’s surprise. “After Switzerland and stuff she should have two of us with her. Especially since it’s personal this time and I understand Italian basically so I can translate.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nico stares down at Alex with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s actually considering the offer. You have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at his little game. You were the one to assign Alex and Johnny to special assignments under Nico, simply because you wanted Alex with you. When Nico downright refused to leave you with just Alex, this was the compromise.

You knew Alex wouldn’t be entirely happy with it, at least not until he understands what the promotion, so to speak, actually means. Which is why you wanted to explain to him before hand. Now Nico gets to have his fun with it.

“Johnny is fluent,” Nico counters, “maybe I should keep him and send you with Timo. He’s got a lot more experience too which is safer for her.”

Even with his back to you, you can picture the way Alex’s mouth drops open in offense. His whole body bristles, hands coming out to his sides as he squawks, “what? No I want to stay! Come on Nico don’t send me with Timo. Please let me stay here.”

Nico clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…” he shrugs, looking around at the few boys still lingering and Alex keeps blocking his gaze, stepping side to side so that Nico is always looking at him.

“Okay,” you laugh, cutting in after Alex lets out a distressed huff. “Alex I assigned you and Johnny together.”

He whips around, gaze wounded and mouth open in offense. You quickly shush him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Special assignments from Nico means you’ll be with us most of the time. Unless there’s an actual location you need to be at with Johnny, the two of you will be monitoring and working with us.”

His whole body relaxes, features morphing into a happy smile and he shrugs, “Oh cool.” Like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just get all wound up and defensive over the thought of not working with you and Nico.

“Oh cool,” Nico mocks, pinching at the back of Alex’s neck and he yelps, shoulders hunching up to try and get away from the sting. “Who do you think you are questioning us, huh?”

His tone is light hearted and teasing, easy going as him and Alex start shoving and pinching at each other.

“I’m a hyphenated Hischier,” Alex retorts, sticking his tongue out and then laughing when Nico jabs at the soft spot between his chest and arm. “I can say what I want here.”

They keep half wrestling and bickering, Alex laughing at each little poke and swipe as Nico backs him into the wall. He’s not giggling quite as much as Alex, but he’s got that smile on his face he only gets with the boys, especially Alex. The one that crinkles by the corners of his eyes, narrows them so much he’s all dark and long eyelashes, jaw clenched as he tries and fails to fight back that big of a grin.

Timo slings his arm over your shoulders, squeezing you into his side and you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Glad he’s still having fun,” Timo says, referring to Nico. “Didn’t really know how he’d be with all of this.”

You know what he means. Nico can be far too serious sometimes, shouldering things that are too heavy for just him but he never tries to share the burden. He likes being the to one to do it. To fix things, to take care of everyone, especially you. Even if it’s not good for him, he’ll wear it.

“Yeah,” you agree, “Alex is good at getting to him to take a breath and start acting his age instead of like a 50 year old man.”

Timo laughs under his breath, the two of you still watching them fight with each other. Moose has joined in now, wiggling between their legs and bullying his head into Nico’s knee or Alex’s calf.

“You think we’re ready for this?” You ask Timo, a little quieter than before.

He’s silent for a beat, contemplating. “Yeah I think so. Like I said before, Nico is ready for everything. Even when the rest of us aren’t.”

“I really missed you.” You turn into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him tight. He returns the embrace, patting at your back soothingly.

“I missed you too, a lot. We’ve got a lot to catch up on huh?”

There’s so much to talk about. Not just the rundown of what happened with your parents and everything else concerning work, but with just you two. You want to tell him how much it sucked seeing them that day. How stupid and powerless you felt. That you really wish he’d seen how well Mercer did too. And you want to know about Amelia and Switzerland, if they talked more about the future. You want to ask if he saw Luca or Katja, how they’re doing. Did they mention Nina too?

Right now isn’t the time though. Nico’s let Alex go by now, ruffling his hair before giving him room to escape into the kitchen. Which means it’s time to get work now. Starting with a visit to your gravesite.

~~~~

“This is actually insane.”

Nico scoffs out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head in disbelief and planting his hands on his hips. It’s such a far off look from the man that was horsing around with Alex this morning, laughing and full of light that you immediately reach for his arm, hooking your hand through the crook of his elbow.

“That’s one word for it,” he mutters, but he lets out a deep breath and stretches his arm out to you, lets you tuck your fingers between his.

“At least it’s going to be gone.” You offer as a comfort, and then, like he’s trying to back up your statement, the slow rumble of the crane starts up from across the way, the groundskeeper already rolling it forward and towards your plot.

“Where am I supposed to put my flowers for you?” Timo pouts, the store bought bouquet of white roses in his hand and you laugh. Nico, who doesn’t find it very funny, reaches around you to snatch them away.

“Hey,” you complain, “those are mine!” He dodges your swiping hand, tucking the gathered stems of the flowers under his other arm. The crane inches forward, the three of you backing up to give it more room. You shift in the thick leather jacket Nico insisted you wear, the fabric hot and sticky in the humid air. Between that and red bandana tied over your head, pinning down your hair that’s grown frizzy, it’s almost unbearable out here.

You’d take sweating in Nico’s jacket and hiding behind devils red any day though if it means you get to see this. It swells up inside you, bubbling in your gut the closer the claw of the crane gets. Your fingers squeeze Nico’s, the relief and excitement growing and growing as the metal teeth enclose around the top of the headstone, digging into the stone until it cracks. There’s no need to preserve this stupid rock anyway.

You almost laugh at how easily it’s lifted into the air, not even constructed to look or act like a real grave marker. Temporary. Hastily done. It makes you wonder what the point even was. Did they plan on removing it if you ever came back? Pretending nothing happened? That they never did this? Or was it made so shitty because they put no real thought into killing you off? They made the decision and just executed it off the bat.

“That’s a little lackluster,” you grumble, “It’s so small. I fake died and they couldn’t even get one that goes buried in the ground?”

Nico elbows you, gaze unimpressed under those dark eyebrows of his. You wish he could see your eyes through your black sunglasses, see that you do find this kind of funny. You jut your bottom lip out at him.

“You’d never do this to me, right baby?” At your teasing tone his lips twitch, fighting back an amused smile that just eggs you on. “Right?” You press your chin into his bicep, nudging his arm annoyingly so.

“No I wouldn’t,” he assures through a grumble, rolling his eyes fondly. “Build a fucking statue for you baby, okay?”

Smirking proudly, you rise to your toes and press a chaste kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Yeah I know. Nico Hischier and too small have never been in the same sentence, have they?”

Both him and Timo snort, Nico’s ears turning pink at the tips and he runs his tongue along the inside of his dimpled cheek. Shaking his head in both disbelief and laughter, he hands you your flowers in favor cupping your jaw. Holding your gaze, he narrows his eyes in an all too telling way. The same one he gives you when you’re toeing the line of what’s acceptable to say to him in public. The line has a little more grace when it’s just Timo around, fortunatly for you, but you already know you’ll be making it up to him later for that one.

“We’re surrounded by dead bodies and you’re trying to get in my pants?”

You shrug, the movement a little awkward with how he’s holding your face still. Over his shoulder, the crane inches away with your headstone swaying from the hook.

“Can’t do it in front of living people, can’t do it in front of dead ones, when am I supposed to do it?”

Nico shakes his head, fingers flexing into a light pinch and then he lets you go. He blows out a puff of air, fighting to contain the smile you were searching for in the first place. You and Timo share a hushed snicker, only silencing when the rumble of the tractor returns.

This time in its claw hangs the thick chain weaved around the new headstone, a hulking black slab of marble dangling from it.

“That’s a little menacing,” Timo says, arms crossed over his chest as the new marker inches closer and closer to your newly renovated plot. Shifting to look at you, he eyes you carefully.

“Why do you think they did it? Like what was the point of the headstone?”

It’s the same question you and Nico have been pouring over everyday since you first came to the cemetery. What did they want to accomplish with that? How long had it been sitting here before you found it? Most concerning, how did they pull it off? You know how Nico got the new headstone made, how much he paid for it to be illegally placed here. With his influence though, that’s a price he can easily pay.

Your parents can’t. You have no idea how they got around the law to fake your death. It was a risky move, one that could’ve ended with them in jail. Instead they’ll face something worse. They’re staring directly at you and Nico now, two people without much of a limit on what kind of damage they can do.

All to send a message that could’ve been sent in an email if you’re being honest.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You mumble, “it was for me. They wanted me to know it was actually over.” What you did when you chose Nico was unforgivable. Even though you’d always left that door cracked for your parents, always hoped maybe things would be better again, they shut that door a long time ago. Locked it from the outside and sealed it tight with a pretty headstone on top. “They never intended to be my parents again.”

Nico reaches for you again, nose flared and eyebrows lowered thoughtfully. You step into his side, let him pull you close and comfort you in the only way he really knows how. Protecting you, loving you. Even if he looks like he’s mentally far away from you, his mind most likely sifting through everything he wants to do to your parents. He wants to kill them. You know he does.

“How’d they do it?” Timo questions, “Do we know anything yet?”

Nico’s tone is clipped when he responds. “No we don’t.” You slip your arm around his waist, pressing your hand into the tense spot between his shoulder blades and rub your palm in soothing circles. He’s frustrated, you know that. He wants to get ahead of this, needs information if he wants to get a foot up. Every time you’ve said Nico is smart, you mean it. Knowledge is power and like he told you the night you met him, he’s never just on a power trip.

“There was nothing on public record of it,” he continues, a little less angry and more exhausted sounding now. “No obituaries, no news headlines or articles, not even a certificate of death.”

On paper, all of this is impossible. If you were to look at it in black and white, there’s no way your parents would’ve been able to pull this off. And if you had any other life than a mob one, it would all seem like some sick prank or joke. Except you are a mob wife and you know there’s always more.

“That’s what Alex and Johnny are for,” you explain, motioning to the two boys that have been monitoring your corner of the cemetery. They’re not as bundled up as you but they’re in all black, weapons concealed in their waist bands and a red bandanas tied around one of their legs. “Alex is like obsessive and Johnny is good with details. We’re hoping together they can do better digging than Nico and I could.”

That and you need a distraction. If your parents are now on the lookout for you and Nico, especially after he visited their home, they’ll have their ears to ground for any sign of him. They don’t know Alex or Johnny, didn’t see either of them with you that day. If anyone can sneak around them for information, it’ll be those two.

While they’re watching you and Nico, your boys will be watching them.

Almost impressed, Timo looks you up and down, something warm in those blue eyes of his. Not the same warmth that he gives you and Nico just because you’re his best friends. It’s more like…admiration.

“You’re good at this,” he says in explanation when you give him a questioning look. “Being in charge, being a prinzessin.”

His words make your heart well, fluttering up with relief. By now, you think you’ve proven yourself about being able to handle mob business. But Nico has grown up in this. He was literally bred to be the head of a mob family. And Timo, while not born into it, got in with Nico at such a young age too. They’re the ones that know what to do, have this life ingrained in them.

Hearing that from Timo, seeing that look in his eyes, is such a heavy compliment it makes you want to cry. He’s known you from day one, has heard every fear and concern you’ve ever had about Nico and the Devils. He was the one that took that broken girl, the one still insecure and lost after you’re break up with Nico and the loss of your family, traumatized and mentally unwell from Philadelphia, and taught you to be strong and capable.

These past few months, between Nico showing you that all this time that he’s been building up the Devils for you and Timo admitting that he’d follow you over Nico, it’s almost too much.

Blinking away the flattered tears that have gathered in your waterline, you take a steadying inhale as the crane comes to a stop. The groundskeeper, a man unknown to you but now on Nico’s payroll, maneuvers the arm until the newly engraved headstone is placed in the indent left from yours. Only this one is triple the size, stretching across the entire plot, on all three spaces under your parent’s name.

Shiny and new, the black marble swirled with flecks of gold is a stark contrast to the white one that had been here. It’s unmistakable, unmissable. If your parents so much as drive by and glance over they’ll know that it’s been swapped. And they’ll come over to see the latest warning that’s been put in place.

Glaringly obvious who it’s come from. The stone is engraved with their names, a large and gothic looking font spread across the entire top half. Nico didn’t put any dates on it but he did add a personal touch.

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment.

You can’t help but smirk at the scripture he stamped under their names, framed by two imposing devil horns on either side. In case they happened to miss the message, the devils logo will hopefully do the job.

No matter what they do now, how they might try to go back or rationalize themselves, Nico will not be sparing them. As of right now, they’ve already been caught. All he’s waiting for is the explanation you want, the reasoning that will condemn them.

The irony of him being God here isn’t lost on you. If they want to take you off this earth unwilling and untruthful, he can play God bigger and better than anyone. He can do worse. And you won’t stop him.

“What’s next?” Timo asks as the groundskeeper dropping the chains from the crane. They crash to the ground with a ringing clatter, falling away from the headstone until the whole thing glints freely at you.

Nico squeezes your hip, peering over your head to his friend. “We start pushing in on them,” he says, going into the plan you and him have laid out. You’ll monitor Johnny and Alex from the house, sending them out to tail and take tabs on your family. They’re going to get down whatever routine and schedule your family might have, figure out why and how your nonna is suddenly in town. And anything she might’ve known about your death. While the four of you work on that, Timo and Mercer are going to be enforcing the new rules for Devils protected establishments. The next round of check ups he’ll make sure they’ve been notified and are in agreement with the protocols. Anyone who isn’t will be dropped from their contract.

The others will be awarded a compensation for any income they may miss out on by denying your family services. Timo will be working out the numbers on that and making sure it’s all distributed. Then he’ll be double checking that all businesses have a way of reaching Jonas and Jesper in case of emergency or any retaliation on your parents side.

“I don’t want any trouble for our people,” Nico concludes. “You gotta keep a close eye there Timo. That’s the only way we keep them safe and her.”

He gives you a shake on the final word, your sunglasses slipping down your nose as you giggle and curl into his chest. Smiling softly, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Timo makes a noise of realization. “You’re going to up root them. Make them unwelcome in their home.”

You purse your lips, unwilling to admit that this part of the plan was fuzzy. Yeah you want them to suffer, want them to feel as lost and uncomfortable as you did. But Nico had offered more, the ultimate punishment and you still haven’t answered.

“It’s nothing worse than what they did to her,” Nico defends but you both know Timo wasn’t judging. He just hasn’t been here for it all, doesn’t know what exactly you’ve contributed. He’s trying to get a feel for how far this will all go because from the looks of it, Nico is going to cross that line.

“So this is how it ends?” He nods towards the headstone. “It’ll stop when they’re here?”

The words hang in the air, both of you unable to answer. Nico won’t make this decision for you and you won’t make it either. Obviously you know they’ve done that, have made the hard choice of completely removing you from their life but they lied about it. They didn’t actually try to kill you. Though you supposed the only reason they didn’t is because they’ve always assumed the worst of Nico. They probably thought he would get you killed and then all of this here wouldn’t be a lie. More of a prophecy come to life.

Up until last week though, you still had a space for them in your future. You were already mulling over the idea of inviting them to your wedding, of figuring out a way with Nico to at least let them know that they’d be welcome to be there for you if they wanted to make the leap. You hadn’t written them off yet and you’re still not sure you want to.

All you know is that you want to make them pay. And you want them to know it was you. Nico isn’t the only one calling the shots here, even if you’ll let it appear that way. So you step out of Nico’s hold, crossing the untouched dirt of your fake gravesite and lay the bouquet of flowers at the bottom of the new headstone.

A pretty little personal touch, a gesture of hello from you to them.

~~~~

The soft glow of the kitchen lights, only half of them flicked on, greets you at the base of the staircase. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you tip toe across the entryway and into the kitchen, a low smile taking over your lips at the sight before you.

Nico’s hair hangs messily over his forehead, still rumbled and frizzy from what little sleep he’s had. The pajama pants he so rarely sleeps in hang low on his hips, the band of them hidden under the apron he’s tied around his bare torso. In the little light he’s given himself, he’s hunched over the countertop and layering a spoonful of cream in a glass dish.

“Hey,” you greet softly, pausing in the doorway. He looks up, eyes a little wild and startled before realizing it’s you.

“Hi,” he murmurs, gaze softening. He drops the spoon into the large bowl of whipped cream, straightening out. “What are you doing up?”

Laughing to yourself, you round the island as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “Not baking, that’s for sure.” You tease, stepping into his space.

“S’not baking technically.” He defends, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Laying your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his apron, you examine the contents laid out on the countertop. The lady fingers, the bowl of cold coffee, and whipped topping.

“You’re making tiramisu?”

He hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Wanted to make you something sweet for when you woke up.”

Slipping your hand around his waist, you let your fingers trail up the curve of his bare spine, reaching the peak between his shoulder blades before tickling back down.

“Could’ve done it in the morning,” you reply ambiguously. If Nico is up in the middle of the night, unsettled enough that he had to come down here and physically do something with his hands, it’s not a great sign. Whether he’s unable to sleep from the general events of the past week or something else, you don’t know.

Luckily, he takes the opening you give him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. “Got a call while you were tucking Alex in.”

Dramatic, you gasp. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

He scoffs, shushing you by reaching down and pinching your ass through the thin cotton of your pajama shorts. Hard enough that it has you jolting, leaping forward just to end up squished even closer to him.

“Hey!” You complain but he just snickers, dropping his hands to grab at the back of your thighs. He hefts you up and onto the counter, fitting his hips between your knees.

“Do you mind?” He asks, “M’trying to tell you something important.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter, hands on his shoulders as you stare intently into those warm eyes of his. Fondly, he shakes his head before continuing.

“Keefe down at the station called,” he says, lips twitching with amusement when you scowl. You know Keefe all too well from the time he arrested you and the boys. No matter how many times you told him you were Nico’s wife, he insisted that it was in his contract with the Devils to hold you until Nico could come get you. The worst part was that he made poor Luke sit on those stupid hard benches even though he’d just been hit by a car.

Teasingly, Nico squeezes your knee. “He said your parents have filed a police report. About a break in at their house and they’re insisting it’s organized crime related. They want him to escalate it even though nothing was reported stolen.”

It worries you a bit, that Nico was up in the middle of the night over something like this. Like he said, nothing was stolen and you know it was him that did it. Keefe can throw away the report, no harm done and they can all move on. Your parents will then know that the police will be of no help to them and hopefully they’ll back down from whatever they were trying to achieve with reporting in the first place.

“He can just get rid of it, can’t he?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “It’s not a big deal right? Like you said, you didn’t technically break anything or steal anything.”

Almost pityingly, Nico purses his lips, head tilting to the side like a sad puppy. His thumb starts to draw soothing circles into the bend of your knee and your breath catches in your throat, wondering what the hell could be in that report that has him this worried.

“I can have him throw it out, yeah.” He says gently, “But this still means they know baby. Or they at least know I’m up to something and they’re willing to fight back.”

Oh, you think dumbly. Of course that’s what this all meant. You feel a little stupid for not thinking it earlier. Why else would they go to police? They’re making an effort (a futile one at that) to take a stand against the Devils, against Nico, against you.

“So?”

He takes a deep breath. “I could tell Keefe to throw it out and we carry on with the plan. They’d know after that, that I’ve got the cops in my pocket. Or I let him escalate it.”

Toying with the knot of his apron, you frown. “What happens if he escalates it?” At your worried tone, Nico cups your face, the pad of his thumb tracing under your sleep swollen eyes.

“Nothing bad,” he assures, “S’just we didn’t account for it. If Keefe escalates though, we could get into the station for interviews and statements. Hear directly from them what they think they know about us.”

It sounds like a good thing. Nico had been plotting how to get direct information out of them. You’ve been using Johnny and Alex to try and do it. This way is so much simpler and you don’t have to risk your parents noticing the two men suddenly tailing them everywhere. Except Nico is still looking at you like it’s not a good thing. Dark eyebrows furrowed in worry, bottom lip between his teeth as he anxiously waits for you to say something.

“Isn’t that good?” You ask. “You could get Keefe to give you answers to everything.”

“Yeah I could,” he shrugs, a little indifferent. “But I’m not going anywhere without you by my side and I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to be that close to them.”

You’ve never really considered yourself to be an aggressive person. You can be protective and mean when pushed a little too far, and yeah you maybe have killed a person or two but that was all self defense. You can confidently say however, that you’ve never had the downright urge to hurt someone with your bare hands.

You could right now though, you think. Cuteness aggression must be a real thing because the overwhelming need to take Nico’s precious face between your hands and squeeze him until he pops has rushed through you. This is what the big fuss was about? He’s up in the middle of the night making your favorite dessert because of this?

Nico’s always made you feel so special and loved, like you’re the most important thing to ever walk the Earth, but this is a new high for him, you think.

“Neeky,” you murmur, holding the sides of his face with gentle fingers despite your brain telling you to pinch and poke violently at the dimpled scar on his cheekbone. “I’m not afraid of them. Especially not if you’re going to be there with me. Anything they could say about me or you, it doesn’t matter. We know us. I know you. They’re not going to change that ever.”

He’s still for a moment, lips parted as he takes a deep breath. His gaze flickers between yours like he’s trying to decide if you’re being serious. It’s almost devastating to think that he was willing to give up this good deal because he was concerned of how it’d affect you. He didn’t want you to hear terrible things and get hurt.

Even if it meant making his job harder. Putting the boys in risky spots when now they won’t have to. You shouldn’t be surprised though. After all, he argued with you in Vancouver when you tried to make him promise that he’d protect Luke and Jack before you. Even then he never fully agreed, just let you talk until time was up and you had to get moving.

He’s always putting you first.

“I-I don’t want you to be hurt by this.” He insists. “We don’t know what they’re going to say and I can’t protect you from mean words. Not as much as I’d like to.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging his face down until you can smash your lips to his. He makes a high pitched sound in the back of his throat, his hand slipping around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Escalate it,” you tell him, the words just a murmur against his lips before you’re pecking at them again. “I trust you Nico.”

He groans, surging forward to kiss you again. Warm hands trail up your thighs, slipping under your pajama shorts to grab at your ass. He pulls you to the edge of the counter, your knees hiking up by his waist. Swiftly, you find the knot at the back of his apron and pull it loose, breaking apart long enough for you to lift the strap over his head. He doesn’t complain when you drop it haphazardly to the kitchen floor, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You trace the muscles there, the dips of his shoulder blades. His skin is overly warm the way it always seems to be. Even in the frigid air of the alps he radiated a heat you’ve never had. Underneath all that warmth though, your fingers find the knots in his back, tight lumps from days of stress, of apparently not sleeping enough, of choking down black coffee to keep himself focused.

“You’re all tense,” you murmur into his mouth, Nico humming absentmindedly as he tucks his face into your neck. Like the rest of him, his lips are too warm on your pulse, his teeth biting a mark of heat there that blossoms down your body, spreading like wildfire. “My poor baby, all worked up.”

He groans at your teasing, rising on to his toes and shifts his hips forward to grind the bulge of his cock into your center.

“Course I’m fucking worked up,” he says into your collarbone where he’s stretched your shirt down your shoulder. “What was it you said the other day? Something about being small…”

“Oh that,” you giggle, massaging your fingertips into his tight muscles. He groans, the sound devastatingly beautiful in how it rattles out of his throat. “I think it was something more about you not being small.”

He hums, content and flattered, and you lock your legs around his hips, balancing precariously on the edge of the counter to grind against his hard cock. “And I stand corrected.”

A thread in the collar of your shirt snaps, drawing you back from him with an affronted gasp. Nico does the same, a wolfish smile on his face when you pout at the loose neck of your shirt. It’s technically his shirt, one you’ve been stealing since the first time you ever slept at his place though so it is practically yours. And now he’s gone and messed it up.

“Nico,” you whine, “you stretched it out.”

Pleased with himself, he blinks those pretty brown eyes at you. “S’not gonna be the only thing stretched out, huh?”

It’s a terrible joke. Actually horrendous and even he seems to think so by the way his own nose scrunches in distaste. But then you’re both giggling, cupping his face and drawing him down until your smiling lips are messily pressed together.

“Alex asleep upstairs?”

You hum in confirmation, knowing that he’s still tucked into the bed in his room, exactly how you left him after you laid with him until he fell asleep earlier. You had enough mind to check on him in your search for Nico earlier, worried that maybe your fiancé was up and soothing him from a particularly bad dream. He’s been on edge lately, more than usual with all that’s going on so you didn’t hesitate to follow him upstairs after dinner when he asked you to tuck him in, ignoring the amused smirks coming from Timo and Nico.

Speaking of.

“Timo?” You mumble, letting out a noise of protest when Nico blanches, pulling back from you with terrified eyes. “What?” You asks, heart suddenly thumping nervously.

“Baby we are not- M’not stretching out Timo.”

“Oh my god!” You groan, shoving at his chest. “No I was asking if he went home, oh my god.”

Disgusted, you shiver with a frown, physically shaking off the idea. You love Timo, really you do. And he knows practically everything about you and Nico, even in your private life, but that’s too far. Way too far. The reason you’ve always been able to go to him about stuff like this is because of the fact that he’s simply your best friend. There’s never been anything there but that.

Nico’s whole body slumps with relief, dropping his forehead to rest against yours as his eyes flutter shut. “Oh thank fuck,” he gasps, “I was honestly about to throw up.”

You frown. “I think you’ve maybe ruined the mood Hischier.”

He blinks open his eyes, annoyed as he swiftly slips a hand under the flimsy fabric of your shorts, fingers immediately coming in contact with your bare pussy. Instinctively, you shift into the rough pads of his fingers, mouth dropping open in a soft moan.

“Ruin the mood my ass,” he jests, but then his face softens and he touches a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you want to just go to bed baby?”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “No, I want you to fuck me.”

A sly grin takes over his face. “Right here? Want me to fuck you just like this?” He punctuates the question with a slow rub of his middle and ring finger in a circle on your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open with a soft breath of pleasure. But-

“No I want-on the couch Nico.”

You can see the face he makes even with your eyes closed just by the displeased tone of his voice. Well that and the way his fingers have stopped their ministrations, stoic between your legs. “The couch?”

Sure enough when you blink your eyes open, he’s frowning down at you like this is the biggest inconvenience of his life. You grip his shoulders, kneading your fingers into the knots there and his demeanor shifts, lips parting in a content moan.

“You’re already too tense baby. Let’s go to the couch, please?”

He offers no rebuttal, planting a hand on your ass and slipping the other down your thigh as he stands with you plastered to his chest. Abandoning the mess of half made tiramisu on the kitchen counter, Nico navigates into the dark living room with you, laying sweet kisses to your temple and cheek as he goes.

Somewhat graciously, Nico drops you into the overly stuffed cushions, chuckling at the little “oof” you let out as you flop into the couch.

“Undress for me,” he instructs in a quiet voice, nodding to your shorts as he goes to work on his own bottoms. You don’t bother with the pathetic excuse of a shirt you’ve got left, simply letting it hang low on your chest as you wiggle out of your pajama shorts.

Nico’s undone the knot on his pants now, dropping them down his legs and kicking them off to the side. Even in the dim light of the living room he looks so good, all dark body hair and thick muscles, the effects of his stupid black coffee diet already apparent in the smaller pudge of his stomach. Upset about it, you splay your hand out under his belly button, the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your fingers as you admire him with a pout. From the tip of his fluffy bed head all the way down to his thick thighs, cock hanging hard and heavy between them. Noticing the absence of his boxers, you laugh and snuggle back into couch when he lays himself on top of you.

“Not much for us to take off, is there?” You comment as he settles back on his haunches. His hands travel up your thighs, squeezing at them appreciatively before spreading them wider. Compliant, you let him drape them over his hips, knees parted to his liking. It only takes him a moment to shove your shirt up, just high enough for you boobs to peek out at him.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he replies, palming at your chest, the skin of his hands hot and calloused. “Was just waiting for you to jump me.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Oh really?” He nods, a close lipped smirk on his face as he traces the inside of your thighs again. “Should’ve been taking care of you huh? My poor Neeky, so stressed and worked up.”

His eyelashes flutter prettily at your words, a hand dropping from groping at your thighs to wrap around his heavy cock. Nico’s body is strong over yours when he shifts forward, bracing himself on his elbow above your head. Giddily, you tangle your hands in his hair and bring his mouth down to yours, parting your lips for him when the soft, slick sounds of him working his hand up and down his cock fill the otherwise silent room.

Never one to indulge in his own palm, he’s quick to tease the thick head of his dick through your wet folds. There’s no real rush to his movements but you feel like you only get a moment or two to breath in the air he exhales against your lips before he enters you in one swift, solid movement of his hips. Whatever shallow breathes you’d managed to inhale get caught in your throat, so full it’s like there’s no room for any air to fit around the space Nico’s taking up in your body.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice heavy and rough in your ear. Lazily, he presses wet kisses to your jaw as you hitch your legs around his waist and force yourself to take deep, relaxing breathes. “Fuck you feel good baby.”

“God Nico,” you gasp after a beat, turning your head to capture his lips. All at once he’s licking into your mouth, drawing his hips back and finding a slow but bruising pace of fucking into you. You slide a hand down his back, finding those same knots and tense muscles you’d poked at in the kitchen, now flexing with effort, and massage your fingers into them again.

A whimpered noise comes from the back of his throat, almost pained sounding but more pleasure filled than anything else. Your knees shake with it, the drag of his cock and the gruff of his voice so attractive it burns you from the inside out, pulls at every sensitive part of who you are.

“Feels good,” he grunts through a rattled breath. You keep going, fingers aching as you dig into all the tense spots of his back, and Nico - god Nico makes these raw little groans with each one, jolting and jumping when you catch a particularly tender spot. It throws off the rhythm he’d been fucking you with but you don’t even care. The startled, sporadic juts of his hip work just fine if not better, whatever intensity they’re missing being made up for with the pretty sounds he’s making.

“M’sorry I didn’t take care of you sooner,” you coo at him, scratching your nails at his scalp. Goosebumps run down his skin and he lets out a disbelieving laugh. His eyes are inky dark and wet when they meet yours, pupils blown so wide you might see a perfect reflection of yourself in them if the room weren’t so dark.

“Shhh, you’re perfect.” He assures, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when your thumb circles a solid knot of muscle on his lower back, right where his spine first starts to curve down to his ass. The pain must be good though because neither of you miss the way his cock twitches appreciatively. “Fuck, taking care of me now aren’t you? Doing it so good too. Letting me have you like this, dead in the middle of the fucking night.”

You don’t bother giving a real answer. You know what his rambling means, when his accent bleeds in thicker and his heavy tongue lets every thought on his mind drip out. If you ever wanted words out of Nico, you know by now that you can get them out of him when he’s on verge of coming. Whatever block in his head that silences him under normal conditions falls away as soon as he’s laid bare like this. When he’s with you, vulnerable in one the most terrifying yet exhilarating ways.

Where he knows he can trust you, can just be with you. Somewhere you’ll always take care of him, hold him and make him feel good no matter the time of day.

He’s got you and you’ve got him.

~~~~

You’ve been in this interrogation room before.

The slick, silver table and metal chairs that are nowhere near comfortable. Vulnerable and exposed in the air that’s just on the far side of too cold. Above your head, the vent rattles with the constant hum of the air conditioning system.

You remember that from when you sat at this table directly across from Nico, shy under his mafioso stare as you admitted to being an accomplice in the hit and near-run of Luke.

Today Nico sits next to you though, his knee touching your thigh where his legs are spread out wide. A possessive hands rests on the inside of your thigh, not commanding or patronizing, but instead a comforting weight. Solid and soothing.

Across the table, Keefe is fielding the brunt of your fiancé’s attitude today. In his own place of work, sat at the interrogation table he typically mans, the sheriff looks small compared to Nico’s looming presence.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Keefe says, sliding the file over to Nico. The tab of the  manila is labeled with the first initials of your parents and their last name, the sight of it making your stomach tighten with anxiety. You hate that name, hate that’s it’s been attached to you for so long even though you haven’t been in that family in a long time.

You don’t want to rush your wedding with Nico, but you can’t wait until the day you get to legally change your name on everything. When you’ll finally match him, and Alex too, and even Moose. You don’t doubt that you’re an apart of the family, don’t feel left out or anything, but it’ll be nice to share that with your boys.

“This is all they shared?” Nico asks, free hand flipping the file open. “Pretty thin.” He sits forward to start reading the police report, eyes ghosting over most of it before he’s presenting it to you.

“We didn’t expect it to go anywhere so we never followed up,” Keefe explains, “Besides, they didn’t seem to eager to be sharing a lot of detail.”

Yeah, because they’re liars. Leaning your elbow on the table, you lay your palm over the edge to keep the a/c from blowing it anywhere and read over the statements. Much to your annoyance, Nico and Keefe are right. Your parents barely even gave enough information for this to be fileable. The date, where they were when it happened (out on an errand, how cryptic), and what they noticed. Nothing stolen or broken, but things moved around and paper burned in their sink. No sign of forced entry.

“This is nothing,” you sigh, closing the folder and giving it back to Nico. “They won’t say where they were or what was destroyed.”

Keefe raises an eyebrow, looking from Nico to you and then back. “Do I need to know what was destroyed?”

Nico makes a face, shaking his head. “It was all fake documents,” he says, patting the inside of your thigh. “It’ll be fine baby. We’re going to listen in to their questioning. Keefe’s got some stuff I told him to make sure to ask, we’ll figure out what they’re up to.”

Keefe nods in agreement, picking up the file and you all stand from the table. Wrapping Nico’s leather jacket tighter around yourself, he guides you out of the room and out into the hall. Moose perks up from where you left him sitting by the door to the interrogation room, coming to your side when Nico whistles at him. Intrigued, Keefe watches Moose flank to the side Nico’s not at, the two of them standing protectively around you. He doesn’t say anything though, instead just leading you a few feet down into another open doorway.

The room is small, roughly the size of a large storage closet with a few chairs lined up. But the two way glass covering the far wall overlooks the room you’d been sat in not even five minutes ago.

“Can settle in here,” Keefe motions to the seats. “If you need anything Nico, they’ll be an officer posted outside the door. Just knock on it and she’ll come in.”

“Thanks Keefe,” Nico nods, nudging you into the room. You settle into one of the chairs, Moose sitting politely by your feet. “Appreciate it.”

The two men share a hard handshake, Keefe giving you a half wave before he’s stepping out of the room. You shift in the tall chair to face the two way glass as the door clicks shut behind you. You can feel when Nico turns to look at you.

“You doing ok?”

Running your fingers through Moose’s fur, you nod. You were never nervous for this. Maybe anxious, but more so in the way that you’re ready for answers. You’ve already had an awkward, panic inducing interaction with them and you’re not going to have one again. Whatever care you held for them vanished after that day.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you promise, offering him a soft smile over your shoulder. “Annoyed with them but I don’t- I don’t really have any feelings towards them anymore.”

Nico comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to kiss your temple. Moose’s tail wags, tilting his snout up to look at Nico and then he’s resting his head on your thigh where he can see you both.

“Hi Müsli,” he murmurs, chin digging into your shoulder and his fingers scratch softly between Moose’s eyes. Softer this time, he asks, “What about your nonna?”

Until now, you hadn’t been thinking of her. It’s a little too much if you’re being honest. So much went down that day and so much has happened since then that you haven’t wanted to think about your grandmother. If you don’t think about her, you don’t have to think about what she may or may not know. She was shocked to see you that day in the deli, so obviously she didn’t have any idea of your death being fake, but she hasn’t reached out since. You don’t want to think about what that means.

“I guess we’ll see right?” You shrug, but an ugly feeling is bubbling in your gut. A little anxious, a little scared, but more disgusted. Everything about this situation has just left a bad taste in your mouth.

Nico hums, mouth parting with words that never get spoken because the muffled sound of the door opening on the other side of the wall comes through the low speakers. You both sit up, attention turning to the glass where Keefe is guiding in the two people you’ve been waiting for.

“No nonna,” Nico comments, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He gives them a reassuring squeeze, thumbs pressing into the tense spots on your neck.

Your mother is the first to sit at the table, a modest black dress on her frame that looks like it’s meant for church more than it is a casual Friday at the police station. Like the fabric of her clothes, she sits cold and stiff, purse balanced on her crossed legs.

“Yikes,” Nico murmurs, “Katja Hischier anyone?”

Which he’s not exactly wrong. While you’d say your mom was a lot warmer than Katja seemed to be, they both exude the same haughty, superior air. Your mother especially now that you’ve become public enemy number 1.

By now your father has sat down too, awkwardly folding his hands on the cool metal of the table. Keefe doesn’t so much as glance at the two way mirror as he moves to sit across from them, an unknown officer with him. They take a moment to settle, the officer pulling out a blank form from the folder and a pen.

“Thanks again for coming in today,” Keefe starts and your mother’s lips twitch into a polite smile. “I’ll try to make this quick so you’re not spending all day here. Why don’t you just walk me through the initial report again.”

Nico’s fingers continue to massage at your shoulders and neck, gentle but strong in their touch. He doesn’t speak, any words unnecessary when his hands, the ones that always know how to hold you together, do enough to keep you grounded. A silent support as the two of you intently analyze the scene happening in front of you.

“Well last week we returned home to find that someone had been in our house,” your mother states, her tone plain and simple. Like it’s all that clean cut. Someone broke in so the cops should arrest them. No further details needed.

A silent pause. Keefe and the officer, pen hovering over the paper share a look. “Do you remember what day?”

Your mother purses her lips. “Thursday.”

Another awkward pause. The officer writes down the date on his sheet. Your father shifts uncomfortably and Keefe clears his throat. “What time did you arrive home?”

“It was dark,” she responds immediately. “After dinner hours.”

You roll your eyes. “Dinner is six o’clock,” you murmur to Nico. It’s been dinner at six every day of your life until you went to college. No matter the date, weather, holiday, birthday, whatever dinner was always served at six.

“What?” Nico asks, his fingers pausing their massaging. “Everyday dinner was served at 6. Even if we ate out, it was timed so that we’d be seated and ordering at 6. She’s being cryptic for some reason.”

He hums thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulders again. Methodically, he drags his hands down your biceps, flexing his hands as he goes. On the other side of the wall, Keefe purses his lips.

“What do you consider dinner hours?”

Indignant, your mother scoffs. “Anytime after dinner?” Her expression has gone sour, neck growing splotchy with agitation and you revel in for a moment. At least until your father sits forwards, offering a placating smile.

“It was probably around 7 or 7:30 that night. We got home and found the rug in our living room messed up, pictures and things moved around. Something was burnt in our sink.”

Finally, the officer starts scribbling down actual useful information and Keefe’s large shoulders slump with relief. Even as your mother side eyes your father, tongue in cheek.

“Was there any sign of forced entry?”

“No sir,” your father replies, blowing out a sigh. “The door was locked even. We checked the windows and other exits, nothing. We have no idea how someone got in.”

Your mother scoffs, rolling her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest, foot beginning to shake restlessly under the table. “We know how he got in.”

He. Nico. So she does know.

“Oh,” Keefe hums, “you do? Nothing was stated in the initial report?”

She takes the chance to argue her case, to prove that she’s right just as she always has. You’re all to familiar with the way her nose flares, eyes narrowed in challenge as she speaks yet it still takes your breath away.

You can picture her standing over you as you sat on the staircase, telling her about how you’d failed your elementary Spanish test that week because you kept mixing in Italian phrases instead and she’s muttering that she knew it, that she knew it’d be too much for you, that you couldn’t handle it all.

“It was that mafia running around here,” she says matter of fact. “The only person who’d be interested in our home, our lives would be that Hischier man.”

Behind you, Nico makes a pleased noise, like the disdain dripping off her tongue is the biggest compliment. His breath is hot on your cheek when he leans in, a giggle in his voice. “That Hischier man huh? Sounds pretty legit.”

You shake your head in amusement, turning to catch his smile for a chaste kiss. “You are pretty legit Hischier.” You tell him, warmth blooming in your chest when his smile widens, and he starts thumbing at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hischier?” Keefe asks, almost incredulous. “As in Nico Hischier?”

“Yes!” Your mother insists, gaze a little wild. “You know him then? And what he does?”

“Yes ma’am we know all about Nico Hischier.”

The two of you snicker under your breath. She has no idea just how much Keefe knows about Nico and the Devils.

“Then you’ll know that this wasn’t a coincidence or anything,” your mother says triumphantly, shaking her head. “No he’s had an eye on us for a while. A few years ago my husband here was being followed, kept feeling like someone was watching him. He’d see that Hischier guy all over town almost everyday. And then it just stopped. Now all of sudden our house is messed up and no one can find any sign of who did it. It’s sneaky mafia business is what it is.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, rubbing at your eyes. “Following my dad? I think she might actually be insane.”

Except Nico is suspiciously quiet. Eyes narrowed, you slip out of the chair to look at him, hands on your hips. He’s still leaning into the chair you were sat on, eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent.

“Oh Nico,” you mumble, exasperated. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He insists, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t do anything technically. I just maybe was keeping an eye on them.”

You’re not even surprised. Despite laughing at how absurd your mother sounded accusing him of tailing your father, you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time you’ve become privy to him tailing someone unknowingly. He’d done it to you back when you were in school.

“When?” You ask, unimpressed.

He shrugs. “When we were broken up. I just- it wasn’t even about them, I was making sure that you were okay. I wanted to know that you didn’t go back to them.” 

Of all the reasons, you didn’t think that would be why. He was following them for you? When you weren’t together and thought you meant nothing to him? Was he following you then too? When he had no right to? Though you suppose he always had that right with you because something about the thought of him still being with you back then is nice. All that time you spent feeling so scared and alone, abandoned by family and friends but worst of all abandoned by him. He had your back even then.

You wonder why he didn’t just ask Timo about you. He was still your friend at the time, the one you turned to for everything and maybe you weren’t the best of friends back to him, but he was always there. Always just a text or call away. Like he was right there. A sour thought bleeds into your brain.

Was Timo tailing you? When you thought he was just being a friend did Nico actually have him watching you? You know Timo and Nico had a strained relationship after the breakup but you also know that Timo is undeniably loyal to Nico. He’s picked him over you before. Why wouldn’t he have done it then, even if they were on rocky ground?

“We can’t talk about this here,” you shake your head, moving back to your seat and ignoring the guilty droop of his eyes. “We already missed things.” Settling back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest but you don’t shake off Nico’s hand when it sweeps your hair to the side, finding its resting place on the back of your neck.

“And your daughter,” Keefe says, flipping through the folder like he’s looking for something. “Y/n, she’s his target is what you’re saying?”

You have no idea what she said before to bring you into the conversation but you don’t care right now. Eagerly, you lean forward, not wanting to miss a single word about what she says of you.

“No not a target just-“ she makes a frustrated sound. “She had been seeing him a few years ago. Before he was following my husband. We heavily disapproved and they both knew it. Now he’s retaliating against us because we told our daughter about who he really is.”

The air feels tacky and sticky in your throat, stuck like it’s trying to hang around and hear what else she has to say. Because she hasn’t said it yet, that you’re dead. She’s implying it for sure, saying you were with Nico in the past tense, that after they warned you of him that was it. That all of what is coming at them is Nico’s fault, is Nico’s reaction to them stopping your relationship.

Lies, lies, and even more bullshit lies. It’s terrifying, disorienting even that she can do it so easily and without remorse. What else in your life has she lied about and you never knew? Because if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve been with Nico all these years, you’d believe her right now too.

“Would your daughter be willing to give a statement? Tell us what she knows about Hischier and his friends?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, one that makes your father drop his gaze to the table with what you hope is shame.

“No she wouldn’t,” your mother answers plainly, “we’ve been…estranged with her since everything happened with Hischier. There was a lot of tension and emotions. You know teenage girls and their feelings, they’d rather run than admit they’re wrong about a boy.”

It makes your blood boil. You weren’t a teenager and you weren’t wrong. Your feelings, your emotions were right this whole time. The gut instinct you had at the young age of 21 made a better decision in trusting Nico than hers did in deciding she’d ever be a fit mother.

“So she’s had no contact with you?” Keefe asks and your mother shakes her head. “Has she had contact with Hischier?”

Your mother clicks her tongue. “I don’t believe so, no. My daughter would never make such a dumb decision.”

Ouch, you wince but what can be done. You’re not their daughter. You haven’t been for a long time now. While the reminder hurts, it only throbs dully in that bruised part of your heart. Yeah you lost them, but look at everything you’ve gained.

“Why would Hischier come after you now then? Unless he’s been in contact with her?”

Your father is the one to speak up and you’re grateful. Unlike your mother, he’ll at least give something of significance.

“We ran into her last week at lunch. She was out with another boy and a dog. We tried to talk to her, to ask her how she was doing and about this new man but she freaked.”

Freaked? You freaked? You guess that’s a valid thing to say considering you did well up with tears and almost knock over a table before leaving. But without the context, no that’s not true.

“Freaked how? Did you know she was in town?”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “We had no idea where she’s been. She spoke to my mother for a moment but then got weird. Started to leave and when I tried to tell her to wait she turned her dog at us. This big, vicious thing of a dog. Honestly, it shouldn’t have been around anyone else acting like that. My mother almost had a heart attack.”

As if knowing he’s being talked about, Moose rises from his ball on the floor, tilting his head curiously at Nico.

“Is that you Müsli?” Nico asks teasingly, patting his head. “Vicious thing? Daddy is so proud of you.”

You both know he’s not joking about that. Moose did exactly what he was trained to do. Keep harm away from you at whatever cost. When it comes to protecting you, Moose rivals Nico in his viciousness.

“She just ran?”

“Yes sir,” your father raps his knuckles on the steel table. “The next day the house was broken into. We thought maybe it was no big deal, just something to unnerve us. But then a couple days ago we drove by our cemetery and found something else.”

Oh, you think giddily. They noticed almost right away. You wish you’d thought to leave a camera or something at the site. You’d pay good money right now to see their reactions, the horror on your mother’s face when she saw the scripture and devil horns. You bet she grabbed at the cross on her neck, bet she backed away like she’d been burned.

“There was a headstone placed there. With our names on it and devil horns.” Your father continues. The sign of Nico and the Devils. The horns that are littered around Jersey courtesy of him and his boys.

“We decided to report the break in after that.” Your mother says, “The threat was clear as day. Everywhere that man goes those horns follow.”

You touch the horns around your neck, pulling them out from under the collar of Nico’s leather jacket to thumb at the metal. Does she know just how true that statement is? Does she know just how many wear those horns for Nico? Does she know that you’re one of them?

“Yes we did some digging,” Keefe responds, looking through the folder again. For what, you’re not sure. “Yesterday some officers just did basic investigating of the neighborhood, looking for any suspects. We saw the gravesite but it appeared another one had been there first. Do you have any relatives buried there?”

That wasn’t in the folder. He wasn’t looking for anything, just a way to bring up the topics and questions Nico specifically asked him for. He even told Keefe that he’d illegally placed the new headstone there.

“No we don’t,” your mother says, frowning. “Another headstone? Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. It was apparently on the far left plot.”

She makes a noise of realization. “Ah yes we sold that plot after the falling out with our daughter. I’m not sure if anyone new bought it and buried a relative there but it wasn’t us.”

And back to square one on the lying. There’s no way they sold that plot back to the cemetery and then didn’t notice that headstone with your name on it. The dates themselves gave it away. They knew when you picked Nico over them.

“That’s bullshit,” Nico suddenly spits. He’s stepping away from you then, pacing back and forth as he glares daggers at your parents through the glass. “Everything they’ve said this whole time hasn’t been true! Including the part about you being dumb.”

It startles you for a moment, seeing him like that. You know angry Nico, felt the sting of his harsh words and mean eyes. You heard the way he mocked you, cold and brutal when you defied him in Switzerland. You always through he could be meanest when he’s scared but now you think this is it. He’s not scared, not nervous, he’s just unfathomably angry. His neck and cheeks are turning splotchy red, cheeks hollowed by the tight clench of his jaw, but it’s his eyes that are the most telling.

They’re so dark, so unlike the warm honey ones you’re used to. Even when he was mad at you, he’s never looked at you like that before. You’re jarringly informed of why so many people are scared of him.

“I know that Nico,” you say carefully, rising to your feet. Tentatively, you approach him with a hand reaching out to touch him. “I know it’s bullshit Nico, it’s ok.”

He halts, gaze turning to you with such ferocity your heart stutters. “It’s more than bullshit,” he hisses but he lets you touch him, doesn’t move as you take a hold of his wrist. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You- I mean imagine if they knew that it was you that figured this all out. It was you that got me into their house. That everything coming for them, even this interrogation is you playing games with them. Because you’re smarter than them.”

“I know,” you assure, cupping his face in your other hand. He presses into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Nico looks so sweet like this, standing over you with his dark eyelashes resting prettily on the apples of his cheeks, leaning into you with the gentlest of movements. You wonder how everyone thinks he’s so hard to read sometimes, especially with what just happened. Because if he opened his eyes right now, you’d know just how upset he is. They’re his tell, always. His eyes and eyebrows have always given him away.

“Imagine how stupid they’ll feel when they realize.” You murmur. “We’ll get to see the looks on their faces when we tell them that the cops are with us. That the whole city is with us and they have nothing left.”

Taking even breaths through his nose, Nico blinks his eyes open. Under his lowered eyebrows he still looks angry, but his gaze is warm and loving again, shining with adoration when he looks at you. “They’re liars Nico. And we’re going to use that against them.”

“Yeah we are,” he promises.

You press your thumb into his clenched jaw, urging him to relax with slow circles. “But you’re not a liar so I need to know why you didn’t tell me you tailed my father.”

His eyebrows soften with guilt. “Because it was pathetic, wasn’t it? Me acting like I was protecting you when I was the one that had hurt you? I had no right to do that and I- I didn’t want you to see how much I failed.”

Your eyebrows knit in concern. Pathetic? Failed? Does he not remember how pathetic and useless you were without him? That you consumed more alcohol in that month than you have your entire life, even now. That you compared every man you met to him, that he followed you everywhere. The smallest of things reminded you of him and once that reminder was there it festered until you were actually envisioning him in front of you.

“You-what Nico? You didn’t fail me, you came back for me. I didn’t- I never tried to get you back. If anyone was pathetic then it was me.”

His frown deepens, dimples popping sadly at the downturn angle of his lips. “No I had just broken your heart baby. You’d lost everything and then I made you think you’d lost me. That’s- none of that was your fault.”

You had lost everything at the time. Not because you’d been disowned by your family and lacked genuine friends, but because you’d lost him.

“Timo,” you murmur, almost afraid to ask. “Did you have him follow me?”

Nico blanches, pulling back from your touch like it’s just stung him. Taking ahold of your wrists, he squeezes them so tight your fingers tingle. “No I didn’t. Timo wasn’t- he wasn’t my friend then. Not really. He was so pissed at me. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, burning with embarrassment. “You were tailing my dad and I know now that you always intended in coming back from me so I thought maybe you were having him keep an eye on me. He was- he did a lot for me then Nico. And it wouldn’t be the first time you had one of the boys follow me to make sure I was okay.”

Almost desperate, he brings your hands up to his lips, pressing a smattering of tender kisses to your palms. His beard scratches at your fingers. “Timo was there for you because he loves you. He didn’t do much with me then. We could barely sit in the same room together. And I was doing jobs on my own so he was free a lot.”

You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as you accept his answer. He may have kept things from you before but he’s never lied. As soon as you ask him for something, he always gives his all.

“Okay,” you nod, and he presses one final kiss to the ring on your left hand. “Sorry I just had to know.”

“S’okay,” he promises, watching you for a moment. The questioning happening behind you has long been over, Keefe and his officer now sharing notes, waiting for you and Nico to emerge. Then he’ll hand over the information your parents gave and you’ll have another one up on them. “Can ask me anything, anytime baby, you know that.”

“I know,” you promise, squeezing his hand. “We should get going. We have to meet Alex and John.”

Nico hums in agreement but doesn’t move to leave. Instead he slips his hands out of yours, wrapping them around your shoulders and caging you into his chest. You melt into his hold, face tucked into his shoulder and inhale the rich scent of his cologne.

“In a sec,” he mumbles, “need to put more space between your parents and me.”

Which is fine with you.

23 blocks away, Johnny and Alex move silently through the house Nico had bullied his way into last week. Just as he’d entered, they’d come through the front door with guns tucked into their waistbands and black duffle bags over their shoulders. And for the whole hour and half your parents spent being questioned at the police station, they tucked into every crook and cranny of the house, wireless bugs. No visuals will come with but you’ll have constant access to the sounds in their home.

Johnny is finishing up placing the last black microphone onto the inside paneling of the curtain rod when Alex comes into the kitchen, a vase of flowers in hand. He stops at the sink to fill the vase, oblivious to the way Johnny is watching him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asks, leaning against the counter. Alex shuts off the water, tastefully rearranging the white roses.

“Y/n asked me to leave them,” he explains, carrying them over to the dining room table. He places the vase at the center of the table, admiring it for a moment. “Are these the flowers she left at the cemetery?”

Johnny purses his lips. “Yup,” he nods, “so I’m guessing they’re not exactly a gift huh?”

Alex steps back, picking up his duffel bag from the kitchen tile and shouldering it. “No I don’t think it is.”

The significance of them goes unspoken. You’re playing the game too, the twisted and demented narratives they’ve been spinning all turning to this tangled mess of paranoia. You want them to know that the Devils have been here again. Maybe they’ll think it was Nico. Maybe they’ll think it was you.

Either way they’ll know. You’re not backing down again.

~~~~

The steaming shower water fogs up the glass doors of the showers, drips down the bathroom mirrors. Nico’s skin is red from it, splotchy in a way that makes you wince. You have no idea how he’s capable of taking such burning hot showers. Though you can’t say much because the steady jet beating down on your skin is cool compared to the heat of his mouth below your ear.

“Fuck Nico,” you whimper, hips jolting forward when his fingers curl up into your g-spot. He presses a hot kiss to your wet skin, voice deep and husky when he goes, “yeah baby? That your spot?”

“Yes, yes right there Nico.”

You arch down into his hand, head pressing into the tiled wall and the claw clip keeping your hair out of the water digs painfully into your scalp. Not that you care. The feeling is dull, almost nothing compared to the way Nico’s fingers are taking you apart. Thick and calloused, they rub brutally at that sensitive spot inside of you, winding up the invisible string that’s still holding you together.

Your hand shakes, the detached shower head in it trembling as your other hand claws at Nico’s shoulder, desperate for something to ground yourself with. The slight slip of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed however.

“Nuh-uh baby,” Nico grunts, the hand on your waist gripping your wrist. He shifts it back up, directs the jet of water directly on to your throbbing clit. Your legs shake with it, body only head steady by the thick thigh he’s got pressed between yours. “Hold it right there for me.”

It’s too much, his voice, sexy and heavy with his accent, his fingers curling relentlessly inside you, his mouth on your neck, the water stimulating your clit. You feel overpowered in the best way, helpless to him even if you’re the one holding the shower head. “Please, please, please…” you beg, hips shifting on their own accord. You don’t know whether you should be moving down into his fingers or forward towards the stream of water.

“I know baby,” he mumbles, a little mocking in his sympathy. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Blindly, you nod, gnawing at your bottom lips as that thread of pleasure pulls tighter and tighter in your belly. “Keep that hand still,” he reminds, “you’ll come if you do what I tell you, yeah?”

“Yes Nico,” you gasp, unsure if you’re agreeing with his words or the vigor of his fingers. Placating, he nips at the column of your throat, the muscles in his shoulders and arm flexing with each curl of his middle and ring finger.

“Sound so pretty, sweetheart,” he compliments gruffly, chuckling when your pussy bears down on him. “Can you even hear it? How wet you are for me? Dripping down my wrist. Or how about those little sounds baby? Crying for me like that. It’s too good huh? You need to come?”

You can’t hear it, can’t hear anything except his voice and the blood rushing in your ears. He makes you sound pathetic and desperate though, a whiny and sloppy mess just for two fingers in your hole and it’s so hot. The way he says it with awe, never mocking or degrading, but honored.

That thread in you snaps, the coil of your orgasm spinning out in your core in a rush of white hot pleasure. You lose track of holding the shower head exactly where he told you, your limbs shaking and trembling as you pulse around his fingers and claw at his back.

Faintly, you feel his lips moving against your ear, his hand leaving your hip to cover the one you had holding the shower head. He’s gently with it, drawing your hand back and then moving it in slow circles, dragging out the last aftershocks of your orgasm.

His hand stills, letting your trembling one let go in favor of holding his bicep that’s still flexing with the lazy drag of his fingers in your pussy. The static in your head fizzles out as he returns the shower head to its holder, softly gripping your side again.

“You okay?” He murmurs, kissing your damp temple. “Done?”

Tongue heavy, you blink up at the ceiling and nod, then mumble out “mhm Nico.” Another kiss to the bulb of your nose, one to your chin, his lips whispering light apologies as he slips his hand from between your thighs, you wincing in overstimulation. You’re still staring blankly at the ceiling when he grips your chin between two fingers, tilting your head down to look at him and you frown at the sticky feeling on the pads of his fingers.

“Ew Nico you did not-“

He buttons his mouth to yours, licking into your slack mouth and giving you a taste of yourself. Your complaint from earlier goes forgotten. When did he stuff his fingers in his mouth and lick them clean?

“Tell me for real now,” he says when you part. “Are you okay? With everything?”

It’s an odd place for him to be checking in, an odd time too with the way your thighs are still quaking but it’s sweet too. Because to him there’s never a bad or weird place to make sure you’re okay.

“I am,” you promise. His gaze is soft and imploring when you finally get your brain to focus, stirring with arousal but more concerned with you than himself. “I know it’s a lot- or it should be a lot- but it doesn’t feel like it. I just feel like I’ve earned this I guess.”

“You have,” he encourages, wide palms cupping either side of your face. “You’ve earned the right to break the Geneva Convention I think.”

“Wow,” you giggle, “permission from the Swiss himself. Maybe I will then.”

He chuckles, all deep and rumbly in his chest as he touches his forehead to yours, wet hair hanging over his dark eyebrows. “Before we do that, you don’t need anything, right? Like you’re not feeling…sad again?”

Sad. Depressed. The word you’ve never let him use even though it was true. It’s always that you were sick or unwell because you were. You took meds though and you went to the doctor and you’re better now. For some reason though that word gets stuck in your throat, has been lodged there since the first day you came out of therapy with an official diagnosis and prescription. And when Nico saw it, asked you what it was for you couldn’t even say the word then. You simply showed him the slip.

“I’m not…” you pause, unable to look into his eyes as you clear your throat, feel the words on your tongue. If you can’t say it, it’s because it’s still there right? You don’t feel like it’s there though. This is the happiest you’ve been in years. So you need to say it.

You inhale, steel yourself. “I’m not depressed.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in surprise that you’ve actually said it out loud. But then he goes soft again, shock turning to awe and his eyes shine with happiness when you finally meet his gaze again.

“That’s good baby,” he says with earnest. “That’s so good. M’so proud of you.”

Your ears go hot, body flush with heat. “It’s you. I feel better with you. Like you’re so solid all the time I don’t ever have to worry.”

He’s silent for a moment, dimples sinking into his cheeks as the two of you listen to the lukewarm water splatter into the opposite shower wall. Nico butts his nose into yours. “I- I’m glad. You know I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “No pressure or anything Neeky.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling fondly before he’s closing his mouth to yours again. Nico kisses you into the shower wall for a few more minutes, strong and solid just like you said he was, like he’s telling you just what he thinks of the ‘pressure’ of taking care of you. The shower water grows icy though and the two of you get out shivering, fighting over the large fluffy towel hanging on the bathroom door before Nico manhandles you into wrapping up with him.

You spend the rest of the morning giggling and kissing him, sharing pecks and teasing comments as the two of you dress and get Moose ready to go. Still laughing as you pile the dog and Alex into the car, trying not to blush when Alex visibly brightens in the backseat at your bubbly mood today.

That floaty feeling is still there when Nico pulls up behind Timo and Johnny at the cemetery, the two older men already chatting with the groundskeeper. Timo is the first to greet you when you get out of the car, abandoning the conversation to throw his arms out wide and you drop Nico’s hand in favor of skipping over to hug him.

“Oh god I miss you,” you whine dramatically, Moose wondering up lazily behind you to sniff at Timo’s shoes. “We used to see each other everyday and now I’m stuck with him.”

“Oh okay,” Nico says from behind you, his large palm swatting at your ass in a stinging slap. You flinch away from him, pouting as he stares you down through narrowed eyes. Moose makes an unhappy growl in his chest that Nico chooses to ignore. You scratch behind the dog’s ear in appreciation.

“Now who’s being inappropriate in a cemetery,” you mock, slipping up and laughing when his smile widens with delight.

“You’re chipper today,” Timo interrupts, falling into step at your side as you all gather back with Johnny and the groundskeeper. “Good morning?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, leaning into his shoulder and lowering your voice. “It was a really good morning. In the shower specifically.”

He snorts, elbowing you into Nico and your fiancé snatches up your hand in his, a knowing smirk on his face. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s in on the bit, even if he didn’t explicitly hear you talking to Timo. The conversation stops there, replaced by a new one as Nico greets the man waiting with Johnny.

“Hisch,” he nods, “I was just telling your boys here that I looked into that site. There’s a transaction under that last name of when they bought all three plots but that’s all. Clerk made a note though that about a year ago they came by and looked into the price point of selling back to the cemetery but nothing official happened.”

Nico’s eyebrows stitch into a frown. “They never sold the third one? Is there any record of them laying that headstone there?”

The groundskeeper scratches at his neck uncomfortably. “Nah man. If they sold it, it was done under the table to someone else which you can’t do without approval here. Must’ve been done illegally. And there’s no record of the headstone either. Don’t even know who made it. Must’ve been laid there before I got here though.”

Nico’s jaw ticks, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment. Johnny sighs through his nose, shifting his weight onto one leg. “That’s it? They just did it all illegally and now no one knows anything?”

Helpless, the guy shrugs. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help but this is my first summer here and I don’t know who even helped those guys out with doing that.”

Almost in sync all four boys huff, clearly annoyed and disappointed at the lack of information they’ve been given. You can feel it radiating off of Nico, the thought that he’s paying this guy for nothing if he can’t help them.

“It’s fine,” you assure the poor groundskeeper who’s already done more than he could. “I mean, lots of things can be done illegally for the right price so just-thanks for your help.”

He smiles in thanks at you, look to Nico imploringly. You’re fiancé waves him off and the guys almost scrambles away, heading back towards the cart he must’ve drove over here to meet Johnny and Timo.

“We’re never going to figure out where that headstone came from,” Timo says, “not unless we get her parents talking.”

Alex perks up. “We have! Well kind of. Johnny and I haven’t listened to all the bugs yet but I mean, we can probably scare them into talking about it right?”

It’s a smart idea, you’ll admit. And Nico must think so too because he tilts his head thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thinks.

“Could work,” Nico finally agrees. “Maybe get Keefe to call them back in, nonna too this time. Have his question them separately about the grave. Play it off like he’s investigating us so he needs to know where the stones came from. If they think it’ll keep them safe, they might admit who they sold it to.”

The five of you lapse into silence, thinking it over. You saw first hand how your parents lied to Keefe. They must not be too concerned with secrets infringing on their goal of taking down Nico if they blatantly made up stories just days ago. They haven’t spoken to your nonna though, left her waiting in the front area during their questioning but with the right questions she might speak. After all, she has no background with Nico or your relationship with him. All she knows is what your parents told her. And who knows what was true there. Maybe you could even catch them in a lie.

“Let’s head home and start sorting through audio files then,” Johnny finally says, clapping Alex on the back. “Smart idea though kid.”

You’re trudging back to the car when Alex stops, lightly touching your free hand. You look to him, find him pointing to a bouquet of lilies on a gravesite. “Those are nice,” he says casually. “Like for a wedding.”

His sly smile gets you, makes you and Nico both laugh. He reaches around you, flicking Alex on the ear. “Stop prying would ya? This is personal.” You shoo Nico away, taking ahold of Alex’s hand and swinging them between you.

“They are pretty but we already picked flowers.”

Timo and Johnny stop, the three of you barely having time to stop before you’d bump into their backs. They both turn around, eyes wide like they can’t believe what you just said.

“You’ve been wedding planning?” Johnny asks in disbelief. “Finally?”

And well that’s a little offensive because you’ve had a lot going on! You and Nico wanted to enjoy the holidays and bask in your engagement for a bit before jumping into planning. And then you went to Vancouver and that was a mess. With Nico working so much now and you and the boys getting Hischier Enterprises together, you’ve been busy. Not putting off wedding planning or anything. Just busy.

“For your information we’ve done a lot of planning.” You scoff, jabbing at his shoulder.

“Do you have a date yet?” Alex cuts in, “A venue? Am I in the wedding? Is that allowed actually-“

“Okay calm down,” Nico interrupts, giving them all a pointed look. “Nothing has been ordered or reserved or anything, we’ve just agreed on some things. Wedding party not being one of them so don’t even ask.”

Wedding party, you internally wince. That’s going to be the worst part of the wedding you think. That’s a topic you and Nico haven’t even brought up, well aware that there’s going to be overlap in who you both want standing next to you. You have no doubt that all three of the men in front of you will be in the wedding but you have no idea where and with who.

“We have to settle on a date and venue first,” you tell Alex, squeezing his hand. Slowly, you all continue moving to the car, dragging your feet because Moose is taking his time to sniff at every blade of grass before Nico steps on them.

“Sweden is nice,” he offers innocently. “Really nice, especially in the summer. Have you heard of Midsummer?”

“I have,” you nod, “but we don’t know if we want to do something in Europe. We have to figure out guest lists first.”

“I think you could do France,” Timo throws out over his shoulder. “Nina would be over the moon. And it’s nice there.”

Nico, tone a little suspicious is the one to respond. “Since when are you thinking about Nina? Or France?”

It makes you pause, eyeing the back of Timo’s head as he shrugs. You still haven’t had time to talk about his trip to Switzerland. Did he see Nina there? Is that why he’s thinking of her? Does Nico think that Timo dropped in on his family?

“S’just close to home without being in Switzerland, right?” Your best friend deflects. Questioningly, you turn to Nico. He’s frowning at Timo too, cheek flexing as he gnaws at the inside of it. Something is going on there and you have no idea what. But you’ll find out, that’s for sure. Even if it means talking to Nina yourself.

“Doesn’t matter right now anyway,” Nico finally reminds, any playfulness he had from this morning completely gone. “Wedding can wait. We all need to focus on this and that stupid fucking headstone.”

He goes on to remind Johnny of the quickest way to sort through the audio, reminding him to actually let Alex do some of it too so that he can learn the skill. And two sets of ears is better than one. You’ve stopped listening by then though because your phone chirps from the pocket of Nico’s leather jacket, and you dig it out to an email notification.

Not even to your personal email though. It’s to the default, private user email that everyone under Hischier Enterprises is given when you officially hired them. It’s an odd combination of numbers in place of a name, the domain email being one you don’t recognize. You quickly unlock your phone, opening up the notification in the mail app.

They’ll never tell you anything about the headstone. At least no one that’s left in the clerks office. I can help but not right now. Need things to calm down first. Sorry. Be in touch when I can.

-M73

“Nico,” you call, steps faltering as the full message hits you. Whoever this is, however they got your email and know about it all, they’re not a Devil.

“What?” He asks, grabbing both of your arms, crowding around you. “What is it baby?”

You hand him your phone, biting at your bottom lip as the other boys press in around you, shielding you and Nico as he reads over the email. You don’t even know what to say. Not really. That email isn’t listed to anyone public. It’s for clients only meaning it had to come from someone who’s under contract with the Devils. Or really close with a business that is. You think of the tag line at the end. M73.

Your mother was born in 73. Not that you’d ever think she’s helping you. The number is significant to her though. After all it was the passcode to all her things when you were a kid, the pin on her credit card, the combination on the safe in her closet, the code to unlocking her car. The M could be anything of your honest but there’s something about it that sticks out.

“M73,” Nico murmurs, looking up at you. “Who is that? Do you know anyone it could be?”

It stupid. A thought you shouldn’t even have but as the boys pass the phone around you become more and more convinced. Because she wasn’t in that room with your parents. They didn’t want her to know everything, or didn’t want her telling Keefe that your parents faked your death. Maybe she knows something.

“My mom, she was born in 73,” you tell him, still hesitating. “And my nonna, she was married that same year. It was her second husband I think but his name was Mateo and everyone always said how in love she was with him. Like obsessed. She’d talk about him all the time.”

It’s embarrassing the way Nico’s face crumples into a pitying look. Like he doesn’t believe you, like he thinks you’re grasping at straws to salvage something. Maybe you are because it does feel stupid. How would your nonna be able to get ahold of this email? And who would put her in danger in favor of protecting that gravesite?

But it feels right. At least you think it does.

“Baby,” he sighs softly, “this could’ve come from anywhere. It could just be something to throw us off even. I don’t- I don’t know how your grandma would even know what’s going on.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. The thought is almost impossible. She was sick, really sick. Even if she’s capable of travel now, you don’t know how she’d be able to get away from your parents for all of this. You don’t even know if she knows how to send an email if you’re being honest. Still, it’s disappointing to hear, makes you deflate pathetically and you have to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in your throat.

Alex hands your phone back, watching the side of your face intently as you stare at Nico’s shoes. He sighs again, squeezing your biceps as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry baby. Maybe it’s her but we don’t know enough so maybe we should just ignore it for now. Focus on the bugging system and all.”

Numbly, you nod. Focus on the plan, on what you have now. That’s the protocol but as you tuck your phone away, you can’t shake it. You know that message is real, that’s it’s not some joke or distraction. It was done too hastily, too informal. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it sounds like Alex or Jack wrote it. It’s filled with the genuine concern of someone trying to help.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Nico pulls back, eyebrows high on his forehead as he stares blankly at you. “It’s real. I know it is. The message is too rushed and- I don’t know but I know that whoever it is they’re actually trying to help.”

To his credit, Nico doesn’t shoot down the idea even if he’s not entirely convinced. You’ve always had good intuition though, have known to trust your gut. It’s what gave away Rino and Lena in Switzerland. It’s what got you Johnny and Alex. Nico knows that. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to entertain the idea.

“Okay baby,” he shushes, “if you really think so we’ll figure it out, yeah?” He waits for you to nod, for the tension to leave your shoulders before continuing. “We’ll focus on your nonna then, listen to see if she mentions Mateo or her wedding at all. Anything that might connect to the email.”

Grateful, you nod. Then- “or the businesses,” you add, looking to Johnny and Alex. “This email is only accessible to people under contracts with us. If she mentions any of the businesses or clients that could be how she got it.”

It’s a long shot. People of her age aren’t very tech savvy but it’s all you can think of. She’s smart enough to know that if she had to get ahold of you away from your parents, an email could work. And she’d have no shame in asking someone for help, you know that. Maybe she picked up on what the Devils horns on the windows mean. Maybe she went to one of them looking for you.

You ignore the nagging voice reminding you that anyone who stumbles in looking for you or Nico gets reported directly to him.

You have to believe it’s her because there’s no other options.

“We’ll be thorough,” Johnny promises. “Can even listen in with us if you want.”

“Yeah,” Alex pipes up, “you can show me how to do the audio stuff instead of Johnny.”

Letting out a breath of relief, you give him a thankful smile. Alex preens under it, cheeks going red when you press a motherly kiss to his cheek. Before any of them can break away to leave, Nico catches your jaw, makes you look at him.

“I’m trusting you on this,” he says carefully, head tilted in that way that means business, that he’s not at all playing around with this. “I know you’ve got some kind of sixth sense for this but with everything that’s coming, I have to be extra careful, okay?”

Intently, you nod, the action cut short by his grip on your chin.

“M’gonna call in a couple back-ups. Just reinforcements in case we miss something here.”

It’s not a surprise to you. You’ve been at home with him all week, have helped him sort through things in the home office. Including files of potential Devs and prospects. It is a shock to the others though, Timo especially who has never seen Nico call in a prospect before. Not since Luke and he only did that because it was Luke and Jack.

“What? Who?” Your best friend gasps. “And don’t say any of Luca’s friends or whatever from home because I don’t trust those dickheads any further than I could throw them-“

“It’s not them,” Nico interrupts, running a hand through his hair. He releases your jaw, knuckling softly at the curve of your chin, all sweet and tender before looking to Timo. “I would never use Luca’s guys. I’ve got a couple rookies in Utica that look pretty good.”

“Utica?” Timo balks, “you’re bringing up one of them?”

Nico clears his throat. “No, I’m bringing up a couple of them.” He doesn’t expand further than that and no one asks him too. Even if they want to poke at him, beg him for more information. Utica isn’t far from here. He can have the call ups here tomorrow if he wanted. They can all wait.

“Are you sure?” You ask him though, because you already know who he’s been looking at. You didn’t study them as intently, but you read over the files with him, memorized their names and specialities. “They’re still training. Are they ready for this?”

He doesn’t flinch. “They’re going to have to be because we need them.”

You let him tuck you into his side, a protective arm around your shoulder and when the boys all part, Moose breaks from the circle he was sniffing around you all to join at your side. Moving back towards the cars, pace quicker now that you’ve all been thrown by the email and the call-ups, you send a mental prayer out to whoever is listening because S. Nemec and S. Casey have no idea what they’re about to be called into.

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )