#phys abuse mention

[coolerdracula]

writing this system guide and including info about memory & emotion holding makes it seem so sad I need to include pictures of clowns or something so Frank doesn't get sad about it

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am going to make him bow to me, brother. Mark my words.❞

[ Jace does not yearn for you. Does not wish for you. Does not want you. But oh, lies are bitter and brittle under a tongue that yearns to taste. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,753 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), might be small aegon ii x reader but it's one sided on aeg's behalf, sorry.

contains— manipulative reader, targarcest, mild nsfw, angsty - CANON DIVERGENCE - use of bastard, mentions of alcohol and slight phys. abuse (otto's a dick) - sort of non canon compliant, timeline is loosey goosey; in the books, rhae & dae visit kings landing frequently even after moving to dragonstone, so im going by that - nsfw: male masturbation, strong allusions to sex but no actual woohoo, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas. unedited.

a/n— for my boy jace, the prettiest dark haired prince there is. simp!jace you will always be loved by me. comments, reblogs & like at will! + dividers by @danowh0re + accompanied song: SWEAT— HAYZ.

Aegon, under the guise of weighty cups and half-mast eyes, slides beside you, following your gaze as you appraised the entrance of the Strong bastards into the courtyard.

"Are you sure about this, sister?"

"Does wine taste like heaven under grandsire's scolding, brother?"

Aegon snorts. As your twin, the difference between the two of you are more stark than people might think. Though you share the childish, almost babe like features that usually got women to bow down to Aegon— with your doe eyes, the soft cheeks, and the curled pout — where people think Aegon is a horrible mess of a git, your shared grandsire the forefront of this slander, you are quite the opposite. Beloved, dutiful, and innocent in the eyes of many.

It didn't matter that you wore green as prettily as your mother, or that your twin is a mess of wine and women— you were different. You were kind, pretty, and enticing.

A precious flower among green thorns, the smallfolk whispered.

People had even commiserated how, despite the typical Valyrian looks of silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, your Hightower lineage softened your edges. Your looks.

Your personality.

Snort.

"You know Aemond would rather see you insult the little bastard in half, than whatever it is that you are thinking of doing."

You hum as you don't remove your gaze from the dark haired prince, making jokes with his younger brother, Lucerys. From the corner of the courtyard, you and your twin could see Aemond sparring with Ser Criston with more vigour than he usually did, especially at the time of day. Occasionally, he spared the younger Strong bastard a glance that spoke of trying to unearth his insides from his body, no doubt imagining the very same as he swung his blade.

Aegon and you shared a look, stifling laughter, before you focused back on your prey. Jacaerys Velaryon. A name he uses like a shield despite having not a single drop of the sea in his blood. All you had to do was look at the dark hair, the skin and the nose of the First of Men before him.

How your half-sister Rhaenyra can say he was a Velaryon with a straight face is beyond you.

Your gaze might be searing as Jace looks up at the balcony from where you had been idly staring at him for the better half of the time, and you give him a wry sort of smile. A soft sort of smile. An acknowledgement. Just as he makes a nod of hesitant acknowledgement— unlike your brothers, you had not join in on the hostility and mean-spirited comments — you had already turned fully to Aegon as if you are enraptured by conversation.

"It's a contingency plan, my darling Aeg," you say softly as you brush the back of your hand to his face. You are aware of Jace's gaze now focused on you and your twin and you make it good for him. You make a performance. You follow the steps you've practiced so eagerly.

And eager for your soft touch, Aegon's eyes flutter in response. Ever since you were young, and seeing how harsh everyone is of Aegon and his failures, you decided you would be the kindness to him.

Though you do like him, another contingency plan for him wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, you can bet on a lot of things, but your grandsire's award-winning thirst for power and your mother's malady to anxieties are good tidings to see them planting Aegon on the throne and usurping everything from your dearest, oldest sister.

Aeg didn't need to know that, of course.

What he can know and what he can help with, is making sure Jacaerys was looking as you smiled softly at your brother, your gold and silver spun hair bathed in morning light, and in one of your favourite dresses— a white silver dress lined with black lace and green embroidery of dragons — you were angelic personified. The Maiden come to gather and soothe your dearest brother.

You capture Aegon's face in your hands, ever soft, ever sweet, as you smile at him. He's so deprived of physical touch that doesn't harm him that he sighs against your palms. You do feel a little bad, but you need this plan to work.

"I am going to make him bow to me, brother," you whisper, giving him a soft kiss to his temple. He shudders, hands placing them on your waist, enunciating the kind curves you sport. "Mark my words, that boy king will stifle under my hand and foot. Mother's fears will not come to fruition. All will be well."

"I am older than you," he says softly, half smiling.

A gaze sears at the side of your face, as strong as the concussive heat radiating off a dragon's maw as your thumb brushes across your twin's cheek.

There is that, you think amusedly. No one can deny the little heir is his mother's child. Bastard he maybe.

"And I am better," you whisper, snickering.

"That you are." But his gaze is past you, back at the courtyard, at the reason for the heat in your skin. A spark of jealousy is quick in his mulish blue eyes but you only laugh. Light but loud, echoing.

"Come," you say with finality, taking a step back and offering your hand as you make the conscious choice of not daring even a peripheral glance, and heading back inside the keep. "We shall see them at dinner. The king's orders."

Your brother makes a sound crossbred from a huff and a groan, and you are already making plans to ensure his wine is controlled for the night, lest he makes a fool of himself in front of the King— or gods forbid, your grandsire — and mayhaps ensure the seating arrangement once again with your mother.

But everthing else is background noise; your schemes and your plots, your facades and faces, because a faux Velaryon has made it known that he cannot keep his gaze away from you.

Everything else is moot.

Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, soon to be Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, does not understand himself.

Perhaps you are just eye-catching. Your hair is more gold than silver, but it shifts like a mirage against sunlight. You yourself seem to change under shadows and light, as if you're casting a new spell again and again. Your eyes, your lips, the slivers of presented skin (have you really shown this much skin, all this time?), and your hips.

They sway, like a panther's.

Like a dragon's.

Jace has always known you to be pretty; Helaena has always been his favourite aunt with the fact that she's quiet and doesn't antagonise him like your brothers. Because Helaena simply cared little for him not because he was Rhaenyra's son, or that he didn't look like his father, or because he was a prince of the realm set to become heir once his mother was crowned.

Helaena simply just didn't care about him as a human not as hisn ame or his blood, her thoughts lingering more in her bugs and the fat babes she had with her brother, humming nonsensical under her breath. Not insults.

You were different. You looked. Jace knew you looked but he had never caught you before. It's a dance, he later realises come dawn he is awoken and there is a weight on top of him in rings of gold and silver, breathing softly— alive and so very warm, and from that moment, his — but for now he doesn't know.

Doesn't understand.

Your gaze is weighty, leaving searing imprints like a dragon marking it's favourite horde. But it's so hard to catch.

It started at the training grounds. As if his Uncle Aemond's wasn't enough, there was yours. He knew but could only see once, and even that felt like it was deliberate, a mere nod. As if you controlled how he worked around your sphere, and by gods, were you beautiful. Then you had turned to your twin brother as if he was nothing to you— really, he was, in the scheme of things, you were the secondborn daughter of the Queen, no matter how pretty your visage or blood is, you are a woman and a third child (right after the firstborn daughter and son), and in the other end, Jacaerys was the first son and heir of the Princess of Dragonstone, soon to be Queen. In fact, you should be nothing to him.

He was to become King, and you to be offered to a lord. To be someone's wife, to relinquish your surname and become someone's mother. Rear your new lord husband countless of babes and live your life having fulfilled your sole duty.

It is a fact that tasted brittle and bitter in his tongue, like soot and ash, and he doesn't understand it. You had crossed his mind, idle as it maybe, from time to time, but nothing concrete. You are pretty, you are kind, mischievous at times, playful, and you purposefully don't keep him long in your orbit.

You were just another aunt. Aegon's Twin Flame.

Misbegotten to not even marry your brother.

It was at dinner that night, amongst clinking goblets and fat foods spilling the edges of the table, his grandsire having arrived, even Aegon, rumpled hair and sunken eyes but dressed and suspiciously sober— and you, your mother's favourite, her most affectionate daughter, late.

"Where is she?" Jacaerys heard the Lord Hand asked, but the Queen had no reply, as confused.

And then you arrive, not ten more minutes later, and Jace's entire body had locked.

Though he did not know why or what, he knew you were up to something. You arrived in a new dress from this afternoon— close to it's style, nothing like the Queen's or Helaena's, conservative high necks and pious ever green— no, you came as a surprise with a flutter of a silken hand and an embarrassed laugh, tipping to your father a kiss on the side of his good face.

Even as you sat, it took a good, long while before the chatter would arose again (from your gracious laugh at your father's compliment no less), before everyone's eyes— even Criston Cole's, ever loyal rat — would lift from your visage.

You were ethereal, simply put, in a dress that is not of pious ever green or high collar trim; but in a flutter of what Jacaerys remembers as his mother's gown when she was pregnant with Aegon, and the days got too hot. When the babe inside her, made of pure dragon, had made her a furnace burning from the inside out.

It was the same lightweight material draped over your skins, a thin material bunched up several times so it is not too sheer. Not too inappropriate. Jace doesn't know what the fabric is, doesn't care to, but it looks like flowing water against your body. It moulds to your movements. Your shape is obvious, so are the expose arms, collarbones, your chest dipping low, too low sometimes when you lean over and laugh, eyes alight— Jace's eyes cannot stay away, they are glued to your necklace, to the top of your smooth breasts — and the dress is held together in links of golden dragons, your hair made up in braids, in pearls and small emeralds, with curled strays framing your cheeks and smile, your exposed neck.

It was meant to garner looks, compliments.

But it was the colour that Jacaerys knew it was meant for him.

At the centre of your chest— your bosom that dips, two mounds, so soft looking and the urge to reach over and press his fingers down, see how soft and pliant you really are, hear the kind of noises you make, in pain or pleasure, his thoughts make him hiss, tightening his hold on his wine, pinching nails to skin to ground himself — it starts off a darken green, shifting, blending to a winter green, a bluer green, a seafoam that he is more than familiar with, before escaping the edges in deep water blue.

The colour of his father's house had never looked so good, so charming, so sinful before.

He tears his eyes away from you because it is improper to be staring so, to be looking at you and feel like he is feasting when he is rooted in his chair and still so hungry, especially with the plans of betrothal with Baela, his mother had already asked him if she is ever in his thoughts.

Baela who sits beside him, ramrod straight and keen-eyed, respectable Targaryen lady, a confidant and a good friend. She would make a good queen in the future, he had thought so before. Respectable and fearsome, the best parts of his stepfather and the late Lady Laena.

He shakes his head, swallowing down his slice of veal before he kicks Luke's leg under the table.

His brother yelps, a mournful irritated sound for his eyes had ogled far longer (just like he, but would never admit) on you than was proper, reminding him, and yet when you look up at the sound, your eyes— have they ever been so violet? — lands on him. Again.

When your gazes meet, he is enraptured, but he clears his throat and nods. "You look good, aunt." And because he cannot step, because his thoughts are cloudy and you are looking at him as if you know he can't stop looking at you, as if you can read each filthy thought he tries to stifle, as if you like it, he continues, "The sea green is a nice colour on you."

He can feel eyes on him, even the Lord Hand's. Even Aegon, goblet pressed against his lips, hiding a smirk. He burns, but he doesn't burn as bright when your smile stretches, your lids lower, and he burns so bright he fears he might be on fire.

The flames are licking him and he does not mind, so long as you keep your gaze.

"Thank you, nephew," you hum. "That is so very sweet of you to say."

And Jacaerys blushes, coughing once when he notices his lady mother giving him a look. Knowing. Curious but not probing, not yet. What he doesn't notice is the Queen's perceptive frown as she gazes at her daughter, the Lord Hand's raised eyebrow, or Aegon trying so very hard to stifle his laughter, turning to Helaena as if he is saying something to her.

But what Jacaerys does see is Aemond's intense glare, sharpened and rekindled and suspicious, and Daemon... The Rogue Prince is eyeing you differently. No longer just another Targaryen bleeding Hightower green, no longer just another offspring of the Hightower cunt.

No, Jace can almost see inside his stepfather's brain and see the Valyrian looks. The body of a woman freshly sloughed off the body of a child.

You are pretty and young and Daemon Targaryen is looking at you.

It shocks Jace how much he despises it.

It is for my mother, his thought persists even as he looks at you again and his insides whirl. I am upset for my mother.

Daemon Targaryen can see plainly what you are doing.

You've always hated that about men with good insight, who do not care for what is between your legs, only for your actions. For what it might do for what he cares about.

And Daemon cares for Rhaenyra, for Viserys, for the Targaryen legacy, pure and untainted.

(As if the blood of the First Men is okay to bastardise his bloodline but gods forbid the oldest and greatest of the Great Houses).

And he is now looking at you as if he has noticed the steps and webs you have spun around for his stepson, the direct legacy, and he is amused.

The dinner comes to a conclusion to a small dancing, and your twin, dutiful to you and your orders you had told him as you cleaned and prepared him for dinner; stood up, brushed himself off, and politely asked Baela for a dance— the latter looking so surprised he was fully sober, much less asking for her hand — that she found no excuse, and reluctantly accepted as they pivoted to the centre.

As Daemon continues to look at you, to unravel you as if you are an enemy in a battle map, you stand up quickly and turn to Aemond, smile wide and fake.

Jacaerys won't ask you to dance. He had drawn looks with his compliment, suspicion. Grandsire was right, they are planning to marry him off to Baela to strengthen their cause. Jace will not entertain anything anymore publicly.

Duty bound, honour bound.

But, but, but.

you are not a fool, you know men and their pissing contests. You are a daydream hiding a nightmare.

For the past few minutes, he had noticed Daemon's inquisitive, amused appraisal of you, and his brown eyes (pretty for a bastard's; Ser Harwin's lashes must have been long) had burned a different fire and it gives you an idea, an exhale of relief.

Jealousy can salvage anything.

You just need to push him.

And Aemond is beautiful, a true Valyrian King in visage, the Warrior come alive. You look so much softer when you are beside him.

"Sister?" Aemond looks up at you, curious, confused since the beginning of the night. There is a plot he isn't privy to, and he has been spearing glances at you, at Aegon, at his grandsire just in case he knew anything.

You were unmarried while Aegon had married Helaena. Your time is coming, and he loathes the idea of a betrothal to the Strong Bastard. He had made his complaints known when the missive came from your sister, asking sweet Helaena's hand for your son thinking your mother would have surely betrothed you to your twin.

Neither side knowing you had almost sent back your name, offering your hand.

"It has been a while since you had asked me to dance, little brother," you say, hands behind your back, framing yourself soft and playful. There are so many gazes on you, you play with it well.

"I was ten and one then, mandia sister, a boy."

"Too long," you tease. "Kessa ao daor lilagon lēda aōha mandia, valonqar? Will you not dance with your sister, little brother?"

He hums, acquiescing easily, and standing up. You peel a laughter that attracts a chuckle from the king. This is how you dance around the palm of Viserys I. Men like it when you play a part. Not to cost trouble, not to step over the line.

You aren't the elder sister, the firstborn child. You are means to further a line, not to have any important position. Rhaenyra is the exception only from the womb that bore her. You, like Helaena, are likened to fall in line and act like you like it. Like being a fat, old lord's wife has always been your dream. Bear his babes and suffer the trauma of hanging your life in the balance to produce them into the world.

It makes you burn with rage most days.

"What are you doing, mandia sister?" Aemond whispers against your cheek after having brought you close, dancing through the steps swiftly, keenly. It truly is a shame that Aemond doesn't dance oft.

"Won't you just believe and put your faith in the sister that you adore?" you snipe playfully. It's easy to use Aemond's hair to hide the glance you drop Jacaerys and see the seething glare he burns through your baby brother's head. Lust, yearn, jealousy— they dance and cook in his gaze. You giggle despite yourself.

"Grandsire will not allow you to marry that bastard," Aemond hums, unable to hide his irritation. You roll your eyes. Clever little brothers.

"As much love as I can grasp from my heart for our grandsire, valonqar, I am a dragon. I will take what I want. A tower is nothing to dragonfire. Grandsire oft forgets I am a princess of the realm and he is only a lord." You step back and bow as the song ends, as your father tires and wishes to go to bed. He only stays this long, or even leaves his chambers, when Rhaenyra decides to deign Kings Landing with her presence.

Always more for the heir. More effort, more love, more care.

And what is left for the other daughters of Viserys I?

He remembers Helaena's existence less, and if you do not make it a point to visit him everyday— to entertain him, read to him, laugh at being mistaken for Rhaenyra — you are sure you will be nothing more than a faint dream to him.

Your anger licked dark and green. Inside, it rages.

You watch as Jacaerys Velaryon says something to his mother, a rushed farewell, an excuse— a press of your fingers against your lips as you catch his breeches are tight, that his jaw is clenched — you step closer to Aemond once more, Aegon now drifting away from Baela and back into your orbit.

"Don't worry, little brother, I do not actually desire the Strong bastard. I want his crown."

Aegon giggles breathlessly, eyeing as Aemond's eye widen a fraction before he composes himself. "And what do you need now, sister, to accomplish such a beguilingly easy task?" Aegon snorts softly. There is only a faint scent of alcohol on him. You take it as win. "He's like a green boy from a quick flash of your chest. What more your tits in full display?" He leans close, mean and adorable. "You do not want a husband who is too quick for your own pleasure."

You swat his arm, pinching the soft flesh of his stomach before Aemond fully throttles him.

"Watch your tongue," Aemond hisses, fists clenching.

"It is okay. I take no offense, he is just being silly to rile you up," you placate him, pulling your twin closer to you just as Helaena approaches, shuffling close to your other side, burying her head against your collarbone. You hum, letting her quietly choose which physical affection she can take from you.

The four Green children, missing one. Scales of the dragon they may have, green fire burning from their maws. The four Green children, miss one. Sons and daughters of Viserys I. Nothing more than wombs and seeds for his legacy.

You finally turn to Daemon's probing stare and you keep it. "Keep his family away from him," you whisper to your siblings. You do not care if he understands. At this point, even your grandsire may have an idea for your plots.

And for the crown, for his lineage, no ambition is too small.

If he can send your mother to an old, grieving man after he had butchered his first wife, what ease it is to send a granddaughter willing to dance a scandal?

"I need him alone tonight."

You do not come to him immediately, more than knowing what he is doing. Maegor's Holdfast is a fun little place, with its secrets and tunnels. You had already studied the path to his apartments beforehand, and you are there, against the hidden way, hearing him fuck his fist to the vision of you, your name dripping and spitting from his pretty red lips.

You catching him after the high, chest up and down breathing hard. There is a self-loath, a disgust. You can just read his thoughts. When you enter, he is alarmed, a sword in his hand, guarded replaced to shock at the sight of you.

"Aunt," he whispers, appalled. Lustful. Righteous.

You tilt your head, unsmiling. You guard your thoughts as you approach, hands behind your back, voice soft. "Do you always reach to completion with my name in your tongue, nephew, or is today an exception?"

Jacaerys Velaryon flinches, sword hand dipping. "I—"

You are close, a hair's breadth away. Amusingly, he is struggling with himself. His honour in one hand, his desire in another. He wants to leap away from you and pull you close.

His choice is still open.

You answer for him.

"Would you like to know whose name falls from my lips when I reach completion?" you whisper against his lips. So close but still so far. Your fists are clenched behind your back, nails drawing blood. You cannot fail now. The Rogue Prince might be wandering now, ready to yank you or kill you.

You are a viper in a vipper's nest, and Daemon Targaryen is too late to realise you only want one true victim.

Jacaerys is drawn, the shock of your words melting to make way for the flutter of his eyes and the full shudder of his body as you lick a strip across his bottom lip, staining him.

Break yourself for me, Strong Boy, you think as he opens his eyes and stares at your lips. Break your oaths, your promises.

"Whose?" he asks, voice hoarse.

The surrender is at the hands he has brought first to your hips before he rose it slowly up and up, until his warm palms cupped your jaw, your face, swallowed in his hold. It is a delight to know his hands are bigger than your face, that he is told to tower over you. A boy king grown.

"Yours."

He groans but does not let you go. "I am betrothed."

You still. Such a Good, Strong Boy, resisting until the very fucking end. "I have not heard of such announcements, nephew."

"Mother will announce soon."

"Is that what you want then?" You grip his hands and stride forward until your are chest to chest. Until he can feel every outline of your body against his, until you can feel the hard line of his manhood against your stomach. Until he feels his own body breaking his oath.

"Please, Jace," you whisper, you beg. Your eyes begin to water. "I want you to take me... Only you. I have longed for you for so long. Your mother— my sister betrothed you to me first." He leans back, surprise flitting. "Yes, my love. But my mother had refused. I— I thought you would see it nevertheless. The affection in my gaze, the smile I give only to you. That I am offering my heart, my soul, my body to you. Only to you, Jacaerys."

Your tears are running down now, your voice so soft and so desperate. Where lust had clouded him, it is now tinged with a flattered adoration.

Men are so simple. Boys far simpler.

"I thought you knew," you say at last in a voice as broken as your heart. You take his hands away and step back. He grasps but you turn away, a sob wracks from your chest as fake as when you were a child, trying not to get in trouble with your mother so she can fire the septa that you hated. She had sneered at Aegon's drunken folly and was disgusted by Aemond's fresh wound.

You wanted her gone.

"Aunt, I—"

"It is alright," you cut him off. You turn back slightly, your smile watery, your gaze to the floor. "Aegon did not choose me either, unlovable as I am. Men only want me for my body and nothing more. I-I'll leave you be. Good night—"

You never finish your spiel because he had yanked you, hard, against him, his lips moving against yours— clumsily, not enough practice but aggressive in its desire — pressing you against him as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

Jacaerys is not bowing, not yet. But that night with his seed warm and full inside your womb, his body encased against your own, tightening whenever you made a movement, as if in fear any step you take away from him would slip you so freely from his fingers— his mouth, his lips, bruised by your own making, pressing featherlight soft against the side of your head, your hair — it is not too soon to think the boy king will bend the knee to you and only you.

And maybe the babe you bear him, but there is no need to rush. These steps are delicate but sure.

After all, he has only just cemented the thought that he will whisk you both to Dragonstone at first light, a traditional Old Valyrian wedding.

He will bow soon enough.

For now, you will enjoy your glowing win.

[discords-morgan]

"And if I should falter,"

Jounouchi runs from his old man late at night, and takes refuge with the Mutous. He asks a favour from the spirit of the puzzle.

2am fever dream two nights in a row let's go 🎉🎉🎉

We need more Jou angst I stg THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH

Content warning, implied drinking/phys abuse because Jou's dad is a pos amirite <3333

“Thanks for this, Mrs Mutou. Really.”

“You're welcome. Just keep it down after ten o’clock and don't stay up too late. Breakfast is normally at seven,” Mrs Mutou explained, in a stern but kindly tone as she placed the last pillow neatly on top of the blankets in Jounouchi’s arms. He simply nodded. 

“Got it.”

“Good. Yugi will have set up the futon by now, I think, so you can head up. Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Sure thing, ma’am,” Jounouchi gave her a crooked smile (though not his brightest, he’d be the first to admit) and turned to head up the stairs, missing Mrs Mutou’s soft frown. The adrenaline from the run here had begun to wear off, and he was exhausted. Not to mention that Yugi’s mom had calming vibes for days, it was nearly impossible to freak out with her around.

Nearly.

Jou knew how Yugi could get. He’d gotten a lot better, but the odd panic attack still got to him sometimes. Jounouchi wasn't any better, though.

Especially not tonight.

As much as Jounouchi loved hanging out with Yugi and his family (tag-along puzzle spirit included), he absolutely despised having to bother them like this. It was eight o’clock at night. Long past sundown, and definitely past any normal visiting hours. Yet Jounouchi had sprinted all the way here anyway like a stag in the woods, running from a hunter.

A drunk hunter. With a broken beer bottle instead of a rifle.

“Yug’, your mom is a badass,” Jounouchi sighed, stepping into Yugi’s bedroom and closing the door behind him with his ankle. The futon was laid out, ready for as many blankets and pillows they could fit. Yugi just giggled.

“Yeah, she's pretty cool.”

Jounouchi dumped the stack of pillows and blankets Mrs Mutou had ladened him with onto the squishy futon, and he and Yugi set to work on straightening out the instant mess. Unfolding blankets and fluffing pillows.

“She’d never turn you away, y’know. None of us would,” Yugi looked up from tucking blankets, and Jounouchi regretted meeting his gaze. The biggest, roundest violet eyes stared directly into his soul, using every ounce of puppy-eyes powered persuasion possible. Jounouchi managed to rip his attention away and back to pillows. 

“I know, man. Don't worry about me.”

If Jounouchi was honest, ‘don’t worry' was the worst thing you could ever say to a Mutou, especially Yugi and the spirit. But it was the only thing Jounouchi could bring himself to say.

Yugi hummed quietly and followed suit, continuing to make the small temporary bed. 

A soft shine caught Jounouchi’s eye and he glanced up to Yugi’s desk - the culprit being the golden puzzle, its singular eye staring down at them. If he didn't know any better, he’d think it was watching him with something akin to a wide-eyed caution. Like he was the dangerous one.

But he did know better, and the truth was the spirit was probably watching them from some high up perch on the set of drawers or the bookshelf, rather than in the puzzle. He’d probably be way more obviously tense and worried than Yugi would ever appear, ready to leap to Jounouchi's defence in some crazy game at a moment’s notice.

…then Jounouchi had a thought.

He frowned and shook his head, as if the motion would force the offending thoughts to come trailing out of his ears and far away from him. 

“You okay, Jou?” 

Jounouchi looked up, doing his best to smooth over the sudden frown. Yugi was back to looking so heartbreakingly worried, and Jou was starting to think he might not make it through the night without cracking. His eyes stung, and he forced a small smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Yugi didn't look convinced.

~

That morning had been fine. The old man had been a bit cranky, but nothing too bad. Jou could handle it. Thankfully he’d had school, so the afternoon was fine too. 

The evening was worse.

The old man had started drinking before he’d even gotten back, and was half-unconscious. Stumbling around the apartment, searching. His car keys (sold), spare cash or coins (not a bit left, except for Jounouchi’s secret stash under the carpet in his wardrobe), or another beer. Something somehow pissed him off, beyond Jounouchi’s comprehension. 

Maybe it was because he’d caught Jou actually attempting to do some homework for once, or the fact that it was Mother’s Day a week ago. Maybe it was just the debt he was yelling about, having grown exponentially in the few days Jounouchi had been gone for the Battle City finals.

It didn't matter. Jounouchi didn't really remember anyway - the smashed beer bottle swinging in his face had made him shut down, run on auto-pilot. He’d gotten away and booked it before he realised what he was doing.

He hadn't had to run that fast in ages. He didn't really have a designated Somewhere™ to go. Honda was visiting his grandparents (of course, what timing), Anzu and Miho were totally off-limits, and Ryou had no idea what his dad was like. So his legs had carried him to Yugi’s place, and Jounouchi didn't really care if it was on purpose or not.

Safest place in town had to be the spot with the only-slightly-crazy, severely overprotective ghost haunting it.

Jounouchi would know. He didn't personally see the guy in action during his more murderous heyday, but he saw the wreckage he left behind when he decided he was bored and done playing.

The spirit only went after those who had done something wrong, though. Those who went down a darker, crueller path, and Jounouchi was sure there was some irony there. Those who specifically wronged Yugi, nine-and-a-half times out of ten. The last remaining half was when someone had wronged them - a teacher that had it out for Anzu, or an older student that sabotaged Miho. 

Though, those generally earned much milder punishments. 

It was dark, now - the lights were off and the only way to see was by the softly glowing stars stuck to the ceiling. Remnants from when Yugi was much younger, probably. Less gothic.

Yugi was asleep, as far as Jounouchi could tell. Curled up tight around pillows and blankets in his bed, startlingly peaceful considering the day-to-day life he lived. 

Jounouchi, meanwhile, wasn't sleepy at all despite his total exhaustion, physical and emotional. He could only stare at the glowing stars on the ceiling, hoping the fluffy blankets and pillows stuffed in around him would eventually smother him and then he would finally know peace.

He could honestly say that he’d prefer to be in a room with just Seto Kaiba than alone with his own thoughts right now. Putting up with Kaiba sounded easy when contrasted with reliving all the shouting and beating and the-

“...hey, spirit? Yami? Are you here right now?” Jounouchi whispered, feeling like the biggest idiot for talking to what was probably an empty room. What did he know, maybe ghosts needed sleep too and he was being insensitive. Was he being an asshole for just calling him ‘spirit’? What if Yami was just Yugi’s name for him and-

Ugh, was this what it felt like for Yugi before he and Anzu took on the roles of Social Protectors™? This was exhausting and so frustrating he could punch something.

Jounouchi just sighed into the night time silence, turning on his side. Who knows, maybe spirits dream of counting ghost sh-

“Jeezus, man, warn a guy next time,” Jounouchi hissed, his heart pounding in his chest from the sudden spook. The dark outline of Yugi that had suddenly swung upright in bed quietly perched on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed. Scarlet eyes glanced away to the side, in what Jounouchi couldn't tell was either a little shame or mild amusement. Probably both, but he had a frustrating poker face.

He’d always appeared a little taller than Yugi - whether it was just how he held himself or some other magic shenanigans, Jounouchi didn't know. Or maybe it was the wild bedhead of his hair when in the thick of a game, too enraptured to really care about how he looked.

That sounded more like him.

“...sorry.” Shame it was, then.

“‘s okay, not your fault,” Jounouchi sat up as well, hugging a plushie scapegoat tight to his chest. It was honestly a little surprising that he’d appeared so quickly, or at all. “Thanks for bein’ here.”

The spirit - Yami - nodded, looking back at Jou. Jounouchi resisted the urge to shudder under his silently observant gaze. He honestly had no idea if he’d ever talked to him one on one before - Yugi was always there, watching and listening in just in case either of them needed back up. He knew Anzu had taken the spirit out for the day once, though. That was when Battle City launched.

“...is Yugi listening?”

“No, he’s still sleeping,” Yami shook his head a little, his voice unnaturally quiet but audible. It was a little weird, Jounouchi really only heard him talk when they were in trouble and they needed his help. His overwhelming confidence and righteous anger was contagious, and that energy was matched in his voice in a way that was almost regal.

He sounded so soft spoken now. Closer to what Yugi or Ryou sounded like - or it was just that he actually sounded like the isolated, amnesiac, slightly-awkward ghost boy he’d turned out to be. Jounouchi could almost forget he was the same ghost boy as the one that had driven several other students insane, and tortured several more in the name of his own brand of justice.

But that was why he wanted to talk to him.

“Is there something wrong? No one has approached the front or back doors, if that's what you're worried about,” Yami added, his pale face naturally settling into his signature focused frown - more concerned than determined. “I would know.”

“Wait, you’ve been watching them the whole time?” Jounouchi asked, eyes wide. Yami nodded, and Jou could only blink at him for the next few seconds, stunned. It made sense, that was probably why Yugi had seemed a little spacey in conversation earlier. He’d been listening out for Yami just in case. 

There was a sharp pang in his chest, and Jounouchi hugged the scapegoat plushie a little tighter. 

“...thanks, man. Really, it means a lot.”

Yami nodded silently. What would he do without these two, really? Well, if he were honest with himself, he’d probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. Either at someone else’s hand, or…

“You didn't answer my question.”

Jounouchi looked up at Yami under blond bangs, like his hair could deflect his concerned stare away from him. Right. He didn't answer his question. He’d been so caught off-guard by what the spirit had been doing that he’d forgotten.

“Right, sorry. Nah, nothin’s wrong, just… thinkin’.”

“Mm. A dangerous game indeed.”

Joey snorted, a smile appearing on his face despite himself. He rocked back a little on his hips, feeling a little lighter. Banter was all in the line of work, but jokes of this calibre? Outside of all the action, late at night with just the two of them? With seemingly no other purpose, other than to make Jou smile just a little? That tugged on his heartstrings. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

Jounouchi thought he saw Yami smirking too.

Then Jounouchi took a deep breath, drawing his knees up to his chest. Both their smiles faded, and the mood of the conversation levelled out again - more pensive, a patient silence.

“Did- Did Yugi ever tell you why my old man is the way he is?” Jounouchi asked, keeping his eyes fixed on one spot in the blankets. There was a tiny little hole in the fleece, probably from the worrying and poking of Tiny Yugi fingers. Threads had started to come loose, and it seemed exactly like something that would bug him.

It took a lot of effort to stay focused on that tiny little spot, instead of on Yami, sitting tense and at attention. Probably sifting through any memories of his own to check, just in case.

“...I know a little, just from watching. Yugi wouldn't want to explain anything without your permission.” 

Jounouchi couldn't tell whether that was some comfort or less comfort. 

He took another deep breath - just like a bandaid.

“Right- long story short, he drinks a lot and he’s got a lot of debt. Gamblin’ and stuff,” Jounouchi explained, trailing off. He couldn't remember the old man without the drinking, or the cards and dice. The chips and roulette counters. 

“After today, I thought… well, I remembered I’ve got cards. Graceful Dice, Roulette Spider, Time Wizard,” Once he started talking, he couldn't stop. He saw the spirit move, but he couldn't bring himself to so much as blink, let alone look him in the eye. “I just started thinkin’, I’m already half-way there. What if I turn into him? An’ start hurting people?”

“Hurting you guys, and Shizuka? Mai?” Jounouchi was vaguely aware he was shaking now - the scapegoat was trembling in his arms. His eyes stung, but he still didn't blink. “I couldn't live with myself, man. I couldn't.”

“Which is why you gotta promise me somethin’, Yami,” He heard the bed creak but it sounded so far away. At the other end of a distant tunnel. Was he still breathing? Yeah, probably. It was fine. He couldn't feel his toes anymore but that was fine too. 

“If I ever go bad - not like I was before you, I mean bad bad - I want you to get rid of me. Penalty game or mind crush me or whatever the thing is that you did to Kaiba, and Ushio, and Hirotani, and whoever else,” Jounouchi finally wrenched his watery stare up from the hole in the blanket, up to where Yami was, now standing above him. Staring at him with an expression Jou had never seen on him before. 

“Please. Promise me.”

It was an odd expression - somewhere between sadness and mild surprise. Disbelief, even. What made it odd was that he was so clearly doing his utmost to maintain a flawless poker face, which meant that if Jounouchi could read that much from this look alone, whatever he was actually feeling was so much bigger.

Total, heartbroken, devastation.

Jounouchi almost regretted saying anything at all, but he needed to know. He needed to know that everyone he cared about so deeply would be safe, even from him. 

The poker face repaired itself, his expression blank and even again, and Jounouchi allowed himself some hope. 

Yami raised his hand slowly, and he fought the deep-seated urge to flinch away as he pressed the heel of his palm to Jounouchi’s forehead, his fingers threaded in his hair. His hand was cold, and it nearly made him shiver. 

A moment later, a soft, gold glow appeared, outlining a symbol on Yami’s forehead. An eye, much like the one on the puzzle hanging around his neck. The light threw the shadows of the room into harsh relief around his face, void of expression. 

Gone was Yugi’s other half, the infinitely worried, slightly awkward ghost boy from earlier. In his place was this, judge, jury, executioner rolled in one. The devil gamer with a chip on his shoulder and traps aplenty.

The sight alone was terrifying. Enough to make Jounouchi’s blood run cold and his lungs fall still.

“I swear it. If one day you do bring harm to those that care for you, I promise I will not hesitate to serve due punishment.”

His words were whispered, but they carried enough weight to feel like a firm oath. Like each breath commanded the darkness to bend to his will.

Brief terror melted into relief, and Jounouchi finally forced himself to exhale.

The golden glow melted away, the darkness receded, and the lamp on the desk flickered to life, though Jounouchi couldn't recall either of them turning it on. Yami knelt in front of him, lowering his hand. Gone the devil gamer, returned the ghost boy. 

“I don't believe your fears will be realised, Jou. There has never been true darkness in your soul, and there never will be,” Yami whispered, and it seemed like he almost wilted in front of him. The poker face was failing again, and this time he didn't try to fix it. 

“You are strong. The love and care you have for your friends and family is second to none. You are safe with them, and they are safe with you.”

Joey sniffed and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his old hoodie, willing himself not to cry more. It was harder to breathe now than earlier, though now it was because of all the feelings and emotions swirling around in his chest, constructing his ribcage. He felt a light hand on his shoulder, and he put his own hand over it. 

“...Jou? How are you feeling?”

Jounouchi could almost crack a smile. Poor guy sounded so nervous. He’d never heard Yami nervous before.

“Better. Thanks, man.” 

Jounouchi finished drying his eyes of the old tears and lowered his arm, just barely managing to stop any new ones from falling. Yami nodded slightly in response, the look on his face so stricken with care that it made Jounouchi’s chest hurt again.

“You should get some sleep, Jou. I'll be here,” Yami began, and Jounouchi let him pull his hand away. He nodded and slumped back against the pillows and plushies on the futon as Yami got up and walked back to bed. He felt lighter, more free. Like he could breath after being stuck underwater. 

The desk light switched off on its own, and Jounouchi thought he could see the dark shape of crossed legs and wild hair on top of the dresser. A soft smile crossed Jou’s face and he snuggled back into the futon, drifting off to sleep at last.

_____________________________________________

This is the product of many posts that settled and made a home in my lil brain space. Jou's situation arguably being the most tragic, his dad's gambling paired with the fact that he uses a Lot of gambling/luck based cards? Jou's already more than willing to throw down, but What If, y'know? Yugi and Yami Care™ for Jou very very much like all their friends, but I think Yami has a soft spot for Jounouchi specifically. They're just lil guys :3c

Also very sorry if I forgor anything it's been so long and I have no idea about tumblr's fic etiquette

[infinite-riches]

My Sweet Johnny Boy

Summary: “You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…”

Or: Johnny gets bullied and Simon fixes it (High School AU)

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1131

Warnings: mentions of terminal illness, child abuse

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by the ficlet 'What Makes Soap Soap' written by DovaBunny on Ao3!

Shout out to ebi_lal on Ao3 for beta reading this for me! <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): My Sweet Johnny Boy

Trying to adjust to a new school in the middle of the year had been torture. Not to mention the heartbreak of having to leave Scotland behind. All his friends, four hours away. All because his family had to move to Manchester. 

His saving grace had been the phys ed class, being able to dump all his pent-up emotions into football, maybe even with a chance to get scouted for the county team. Football allowed him to tune it out. He could cast everything aside and have a moment of peace in his mind.

As always, the other boys had something smart to say to Johnny after class. Most of the time it was about his accent or his worn-out shoes (the MacTavish family not having enough money to splurge on a new pair when his still wore well). Today though… today was different.

It was relentless in the locker room, most of the other Year 12 boys chiming in with something or another about his hair. 

Though he maintained his composure for the most part he couldn’t deny just how deep it cut. His Ma had been diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago, chemo hitting her hard- she had just recently relented and shaved the rest of her hair off. When Johnny said he wanted to do the same, she helped. She made a game out of it, trying to see how many different funny hairstyles she could give her boy- just to see him laugh and smile. Then she gave him the mohawk and they both stopped.

“So handsome… my sweet Johnny boy with a mohawk!” A light laugh left her lips, a sound Johnny would never let himself forget. 

“Think I’m gonna keep it, Ma…” And he had, learned how to take care of it, always made time to see his Ma- let her trim it up for him, made her smile bright every time he visited her in hospital. 

The water poured over him till it ran cold and even then he didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he sat on the cold tile, knees to his chest as he ran his hands through his hair over and over again, anxiously tugging at the short strands.

The door to the locker room opened and closed, footsteps milling about accompanied by the sound of someone rummaging through their locker. 

Johnny couldn’t be bothered to move, too lost in his own thoughts.

“You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…” Johnny bit back another wave of tears, trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t hate it…” The voice is softer now, kind words prompting Johnny to look up, greeted by a stunning set of honey eyes. “I actually think it's pretty fucking dope…”

Simon kneeled before him, a hand outstretched towards the kneeling Scot, the other holding a towel. There was a black medical mask over his face, just like always. The year 13 student had been a bit of an enigma to Johnny. Most of the students called him Ghost, something about how quiet he could be, creeping up on everyone. Simon fit him better in Johnny’s mind– warm, honey eyes, soft blonde hair, the faintest hint of curl to the strands, always slightly tousled, the boy couldn’t possibly be a ghost– maybe an angel instead. 

“You dinnae have to lie-”

“I’m not lying to you…” Simon’s voice faded off, pushing his outstretched hand towards Johnny.

“You must want something then, eh?” Johnny kept himself small, trying to figure out what game– if any– Simon was playing. “Wanna take the piss like the rest of ‘em?”

An abrupt laugh left Simon’s lips. “Be like them? You wound me Scotsman. C’mon mate, get out of the shower, you’re gonna freeze your balls off.” This time Simon stepped over the tile lip, grabbing Johnny and helping him to his feet, gladly handing over the towel if it meant the poor kid would stop shivering. 

Johnny couldn’t shrug off the kindness anymore, caving to the soft hand and gentle eyes before him. After a few minutes, his limbs didn’t feel nearly as numb anymore and he managed to change into his clothes.

“So what’s the deal, with your hair?” Simon was sitting on the opposite end of the bench, fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he listened.

“It’s for my Ma… she’s got cancer… she thought it looked good on me so I’ve kept it… she helps me trim it up every few weeks… even when she’s in hospital…” tears threatened to spill again, desperately clinging to Johnny’s waterline. 

“Fuck mate…” Simon was by his side in a flash. “I’m so sorry man…”

“No need… it’s been this way for a while, dinnae know when she’ll get better…” Johnny’s voice tapered off, lost in thought again.

“I’m sure she’ll get better soon…” Simon paused for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air. “Listen… I’ve seen you around, you’re good at that shit you do in your sketchbook and even better out on the pitch… if those fucks bother you again come find me, yeah?”

“You don’t ha-”

“None of that, I’ll see you around Johnny…” In a flash Simon was gone, living up to his nickname and leaving Johnny reeling. 

The next day Johnny was sitting on one of the benches out front sketching, waiting for school to start when everyone started to speak in hushed tones. His eyes flicked up, pencil dropping on the page as he met Simon’s eyes. His blonde locks were almost completely gone, trimmed into a neat mohawk that closely mirrored Johnny’s save for the slight curl to the strands.

Simon caught his gaze, softly nodding his chin towards the Scot, eyes crinkling as if he was smiling beneath the mask. Simon, being a year 13 had sent a clear message to the rest of the school, leave Johnny alone. 

From then on, Simon was practically Johnny’s shadow. No one gave him shit about his hair or his accent or his shoes anymore. 

Simon watched over Johnny and Johnny brought some much-needed softness into Simon’s life, eventually coaxing the Brit into taking the mask off when they were alone. Broke Johnny’s heart when he saw the scar– Simon’s dad had thrown a bottle at him, leaving behind a deep gash on his cheek– the reason for the mask. 

The boys were inseparable. Over time the distance between them lessened, from opposite ends of the bench to being pressed together, Simon’s lips leaving a soft kiss on Johnny’s.

And Simon was there three weeks later, mohawk freshly trimmed, for Mrs. MacTavish’s funeral, holding Johnny’s hand tight and doing his best to stay strong for his boy. 

[sammy-is-not-smiley]

Report Card Reaction

Eddie Munson × gn!reader

Summary: When the sight of your report card causes you to spiral, a certain someone finds you and takes it upon himself to try and help.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: No use of (y/n), crying, stress, kind of a panic attack, mentions of physical abuse at home, mentions of overdrinking, pet names (sweets, baby, etc), language, hurt/comfort because it's all I think about, small bit of pining from Eds

A/N: You thought you could get rid of me that easily huh

It was the last miserable class of the day. At the end of it, you'd finally be free to go home. You were itching to close up in your room with a Coke and listen to that brand new music album you'd been waiting to come out for so long. Your mind was one tracked, that was until it was announced 10 minutes before the bell that your semester report cards would be passed out.

When you received yours, you were apprehensive to open the white envelope. Biting your thumb nail as you stared at it, the bell eventually rang and pulled you out of the classroom. Walking down the emptying hall, you finally sighed and decided to rip it open. You'd have to at some point, so might as well.

Everything looked fine as you stepped outside, As and Bs in a neat pattern… That is, until your eyes fell on your biology and physics grades. The letters stared back at you boldly, as if to point and laugh at you.

BIO: C+

PHYS: D

No. Hello no. Something had to have been calculated wrong, you tried so hard this semester. Your absolute best, in fact, and somehow it still hadn't been enough…

You could feel the anxiety bubbling up from your gut into your chest. Your hand squeezed into a fist when you realized your parents would be seeing the report too. Your father would be seeing it. If not from you, then from the copy that would come in the mail. Last time you had a grade this bad, your father had absolutely lost his shit in a drunken stupor. And this time, you had two grades gone bad, not just one.

Tears began to uncontrollably well up as your heart rate quickened painfully. Hastily, you scurried away from the other students and to a small alley between the high and middle school buildings. Your back slammed against the brick, as if you were trying to knock a sense of calm back into you before you lost it, but it didn't help. Tears spilled over and ran down your face without your consent, your breathing now going in and out in short bursts. You began to feel dizzy and let yourself slide down into a squat against the wall, hands covering your mouth in shame.

Some of the books you had held tumbled out of your lap and onto the sidewalk. You didn't try to catch them. Going home didn't feel like an option anymore. Not even for that new album. All you could imagine was how loud your father would yell, how many times he might push you into the wall or hit you in the head asking in a mock if you really are stupid. How hard he might squeeze your arm, or how much he might have drank that day if anything. There was no telling what could happen once you crossed the threshold and closed the door to that house tonight, and that scared the ever living shit out of you.

The circulating thoughts pushed more and more sobs out of you, the damn report card clutched tightly in hand at your side. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you didn't care if you ended up spending the night there on the cold concrete.

The nearby exit out of your view eventually opened and you heard a group of boys emerge, laughing. Footsteps began to draw closer.

"Wheeler, get that new sheet to me by Friday or I'm coming for your a-" A tall figure was cut off as he sharply turned the corner and stumbled right over your books on the ground, narrowly missing you. "Ah, shit, sorry, sorry," He muttered as he turned around and began picking up your books, believing he had knocked them from you. It was then you looked up through your tears and recognized who it was: Eddie Munson.

Eddie looked up with an apologetic smile, offering your books when he froze, face now laced with concern. "Woah, what's wrong? You okay, sweets? Did I hurt you?"

Embarrassed, you shook your head and swiped your books from him, averting your gaze. "I'm fine," You managed to croak as you put your things next to you on the ground.

The boy rested a hand on his knee as he kneeled in front of you. "Okay well… don't take this the wrong way but you don't look fine."

You simply shook your head again in response, wiping your nose with your jacket sleeve. You could feel him staring but you still refused to meet his gaze.

He adjusted himself to sit cross-legged in front of you. "What's goin' on? You're not usually like this."

That made you look at him, confusion etched your brow. "Not usually?"

"Oh, well, you know…" He hesitated, beginning to fiddle with a front strand of his hair, eyes darting. "I have a few classes with you. You're not usually so… down… let alone like this."

You remembered him from your classes, but never once did you think he ever took note of you or your mood. The observation felt odd. A good kind of odd, but odd nonetheless.

You sniffled, looking down at your hands. "Good day gone bad," You muttered, fighting a new wave of tears.

He scooched slightly closer. "Hm. What made it bad?"

You looked down at your crumpled report card still in your hand and lazily, you held it out to him to see for himself.

He took it, straightening out the wrinkles before reading. "Hon, I don't see why you're-... oh."

You scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, oh."

His eyes darted back and forth from you to the page. "If it's any consolation, I've had my fair share of bad grades. They're not entirely the end of the world. Plus, it's only the first semester, you have time to bump those babies up, no problem." He attempted a hopeful smile. His eyes scrunched just slightly too cheery.

You shook your head. "Bad grades don't scare me… it's my fucking dad I'm scared of. When he sees those he'll-" You stop, having to stifle a small sob.

His hand shot up and squeezed your shoulder at the sight. "Hey, it's okay. Everything will be okay. What, does he take your door off from the hinges or something," He half jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. Only after he says it does he regret it.

Your face scrunched up and you wove your hands through your hair. "Worse. So, so much worse." You whisper through more tears and chattering teeth. They just won't stop flowing.

Eddie pauses a moment, then moves your books from your side to sit in their place, facing you. "Worse? Baby, how bad-" He stops himself, a thought occurring to him. "Does he like…. Does he... hit you?" He asks in almost a whisper. However, with how close he's leaning in, you hear it clearly.

In response, you cover your face with your hands, somehow managing to cry harder. Helplessly, you just give him a slow nod. You can't bring yourself to confess any further though, you doubt it would even come out coherent.

You hear him sigh as he leans back and stares down at your report card once more, as if he could will the grades to change themselves. He felt a familiar twinge in his chest, one that he felt when he first wanted to recruit Dustin and Mike into Hellfire. One he felt when Chrissy sat across from him with fear in her eyes. Empathy, he supposed it was. Or maybe he just saw himself in the kids, in Chrissy, even in you.

He turned, back to the wall, and drew you into him in an embrace.

Without thinking, you leaned yourself in, hands falling down and face pressed into his shirt.

Softly he drifted his hand over your arm, trying to soothe you down from the panic shaking your frame. He didn't even care that he felt your tears soak his shirt or that the brick was jabbing at his shoulder blade.

Eventually your body began to give out, hitting some sort of limit, and the tears began to slow. Your breath still violently hitched, but the sobs had subsided. Only then did you truly come to realize your position. Your were curled up in the soft clutch of the Freak of Hawkins High… Yet you found you couldn't have felt safer. His warmth, his smell, his voice… it was doing something.

Eddie waited patiently until you had calmed down a little more before he chose to speak again. "Hey, I have an idea…" He lawled his head to the side to look down at you. "You still with me, babe?"

"Mm-hm."

His lips twitched into a small smile. Your voice had been reduced down to the smallest and meekest he's ever heard it. While it broke his heart to see you like this, he couldn't help but think your response was cute. "What if… I came to your house to be there when you show your old man the report card, hm? That way maybe he doesn't react so bad."

Eddie knew he couldn't prevent whatever would happen once he left the house, but he wanted to at least get you home safe for the night and get the ice broken to your parents about your grades. Let the initial worst of it happen while he could be there to back you up. As badly as he wanted to just let you stay the night at his place, he knew it would only make things worse. If anything happened tonight after he left, then he could support you at school tomorrow. In fact, that's what he decided he would do from now until graduation. He knew the fear that could be instilled from a father, and he also knew what it was like to deal with it alone.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up from him and looked at him with confused, puffy eyes. "Bring you to my house?"

"Yeah, you know… uh say… we have some project together. And you need to give me something for it that you forgot to bring to school," He shrugs.

To his dismay, you fully sat up in front of him, wiping at your face with your sleeve. "Look, Eddie… no offense but have you seen you?" You knew Eddie wasn't as scary as he looked, but your parents certainly didn't know that. "They'll think I'm going to join a cult or something."

Eddie waved his hand. "Ah, old fake news anyway. Also, which is worse? Them seeing me or your grades?"

You chuckled and nodded, letting out a sigh. "Maybe you'll distract from the grades."

A smile spread over Eddie's face. "That's the spirit, baby. So it's a plan?"

You nodded again, "Yeah, it's a pl-" You jolt suddenly, glancing out to the parking lot, then to your watch. "Aw shit."

"What?"

"The busses," You groaned. "I freaked out so long I missed my bus."

"Oh, that's no problem," Eddie grunted as he began to stand. "Hitch a ride with me. Meshes well with the super special plan we brewed anyway." He smirked and held his hand out to help you up.

"You have a car?" You ask as you take his hand. He yanks you upright with ease.

He gathers your things from the ground. "Um, well, a van, but yeah. She's a beaut, you gotta see her." He smiled proudly, making you genuinely smile back. The sight makes him beam even brighter. "Come on, wanna get you home before dark." He takes your hand, carrying your books and report card for you, and leads you into the parking lot where a lone rusty van is parked.

This is not at all what you expected from this evening.

[fantastical-euphoria]

tw: mentions abuse

ten years before i became gender-fluid, and ten years before i aquired a girlfriend, i remember sitting in the backseat of my mom’s car as we were driving to allie’s house.

she lived on a big hill, and every so often i would ask my mom the same nagging “are we there yet?”

not because i was looking forward to my sleepover there.

but because i just wanted the anticipation to be over.

allie was my friend, and i knew her two brothers as teachers at my school. henry was 27 and was what they called my “general education teacher.” percy was 25 and taught phys ed. i loved that class, because to me, it was like a second recess.

“vin,” my mom tossed me her phone. “make sure my location’s off.”

i knew then to tap the setting icon in the bottom right corner, go to “locations,” and press the green switch icon. she’d trained me to do that while she was driving.

and i knew why.

daddy’s pick-up truck would sometimes follow us. she got irritated when that happened. she’d mumble a lot of times “that man deserves to go to jail.” but when i asked why, she would reluctantly say that she didn’t have it her heart to send him there.

my daddy never kissed her, never cuddled her, never told her that he loved her even a slight amount. all he wanted was money. he cared about her too much. always wanted to know where she went, make sure she didn’t “cheat on him with nobody.” he’d be watching.

but he hardly cared about me. that was the most frustrating part. wasn’t he supposed to love me? he was my daddy. he was my parent. a parent was supposed to love their child. not neglect them. not abuse them. not treat them like their whole existence was an accident.

a text flashed on my mom’s home screen, from some guy named “p heart-emoji kiss-emoji heart-emoji.” whatever that meant. “e, we’ll be outside.”

“that p guy texted,” i told my mom.

“okay,” she sighed, “tell him, uh, we’re coming in five mins. make sure to sign it off as ‘e’ for me, ‘kay?”

i nodded and went ahead to text him.

i knew my mom didn’t like texting and driving, she didn’t like to take her eye off the road, and off the rear-view mirror, for one second. there was always that fear of the pick-up following us. every. where.

finally, we reached the top of the big hill. i passed the phone back to my mom and looked out the window.

the house on the right of the road had a giant yard, and that’s where i saw henry and percy, and allie. allie was running around, with henry and percy chasing after her.

that looked like fun. better than being confound to a prison of a bedroom. hiding from the enemy. the stranger-person. the menace.

we parked, and i unbuckled my seatbelt while hearing my mom get out of the car, shutting the door gently behind her. came around to my side to help me out, shutting the door after i hopped onto the pavement. i was more used to hearing the doors slam, any door, really, the car door, my bedroom door. my daddy liked to slam things. he liked to be aggressive.

as we walked up to the three others running around the yard tiresomely, they stopped in their tracks and came up to us, greeting us with friendly smiles and waves, opening their arms up for embraces.

“elodie!” percy cheerily exclaimed, the first to run up to my mom and wrap her up in his warmth. “so glad you could make it.” he then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, still keeping comfortable hold of her forearms. but i noticed my mom’s expression, and she looked smitten. happy. like it was her first encounter with him, even though it most certainly wasn’t. my daddy reminded me of this constantly, and i had the dark red marks on my collar to prove it.

“is vinny with you?” percy asked. typically, the greeting my mom was met with was a much more anxiety-inducing, aggravated-sounding “where’s vinny?”

i wasn’t used to a friendly and nice and kind demeanor that they couldn’t have more clearly possessed. i was still trembling slightly, out of fear, hiding behind my mom’s leg, clutching onto her jean with nubs for fingers.

“aw, don’t be frightened,” i saw him smile down at me, bending down slightly and resting his hands on his knees. “it’s only me.” he stuck out one of his hands, cocking his head to the side a bit. “you remember me, don’t you?”

i nodded.

his smile grew a bit wider. “we’re playing a small game out front here, and we were hoping if you could join us.”

his voice sounded so much quieter compared to my daddy’s. more calming. more endearing. i wasn’t sure if i could trust it.

suddenly i felt my mom’s hand on my back, pushing me forward just a bit. “go ahead,” vin,” she whispered down to me. “he’s nice. i promise.”

so i glanced back to percy and took a couple steps forward, tentatively sticking out my trembling hand so he could take it.

i was stunned by how gently he took it, not a sudden, forceful grab, tugging me into the kitchen, yanking me into the sitting room. that’s when i would dread what came next.

“how are you?” percy asked me, still bent down to me.

i smiled slightly and shrugged. “i don’t know.”

then i felt a tap on my arm. “i’ll be back to pick you up in the morning tomorrow,” my mom carefully explained. “you be good to percy and henry now.”

i nodded, fearful of what may happen if i broke that promise. “i’ll be a good girl,” i said to her obediently.

“alright,” she blew me a kiss and waved to me, getting back in her car, although i could detect a slight amount of hesitation in her steps.

i watched as her car engine rumbled and she backed away, turning around and driving back in the direction we came.

“vinny, you remember my sister allie, don’t you?” i turned around and saw henry and allie both staring at me, probably wondering why i was so frozen stiff.

i nodded. “yeah, from school.”

percy chuckled. “c’mon, we’re all playing a game. it’s called launch attack missile. allie kinda came up with it.”

the way it worked was, each of the brothers were a target, and allie and i were the “missiles.” percy and henry each carried us like we were actual torpedos, and got to launch us into the other brother by counting off “one… two…” throwing us back a bit during each count, building up the anticipation, and when they went around to saying “three,” they released us onto the grass and we went running towards the other while they comically tried to run away from us. the way we attacked was by grappling onto the other’s legs and bear-hugging, tackling them down to the ground. of course, if we weren’t careful and didn’t return to home base (the brother that was carrying us), we were then met with an attack of our own, an attack of tickles coming from the brother that we just tackled. but it made me squirm and squeal with pure, finite delight. i loved the game so much, and allie told me she did too, but it only worked with two players, and of course her brothers.

before the game even began, allie practically begged percy to be her home base, but percy waved her over to henry. “you never pick henry,” he reasoned. “but percy…” allie whined. “he doesn’t throw me as far.”

“oh, please,” henry grumbled. “i throw you plenty far.”

“but henry’s a better tickler,” allie whined again. “you don’t tickle as well.”

“that’s because i don’t wanna hurt you, silly,” percy chuckled. “c’mon, just this once, i promise when emily comes over next week you can get tickled by henry.”

“fine,” allie muttered.

i wondered if there was a reason percy wanted to be the one to throw me, to get to hold me in his grasp.

but i knew mom trusted him as well. so i could trust him.

percy offered me his hand again, when he saw that i hadn’t moved from the position that my mom left me.

“i promise it’s fun,” he smiled. “you have fun in gym class, don’t you?” he pointed with his thumb over to allie. “allie over here wishes we played attack missiles in gym.”

“why don’t we?” allie asked.

“you gotta have both of us,” percy reasoned, pointing to himself and henry, “and henry’s busy teaching. so you’re out of luck.”

allie pouted at this and folded her arms.

“aw, chin up, kid,” henry rubbed her head, “you play it plenty here.”

so we ended up playing a few rounds. and i slowly got into the swing of it. the more percy held me, the more comfortable i felt. the more safe i felt. the less i wanted him to let go.

“now can we switch off?” allie asked through an impatient grumble.

“erm…” percy looked down at me, and i flashed a fearful glance back up at him, not wanting to switch off at all. “no, allie, not just yet. we’re only gonna do one more round, anyway, it’s getting a little late, and i bet you’re getting hungry.”

“percyyy,” allie whined. “you’re no funnn.”

“allie, do you want to play, or do you want to go to bed early tonight?” i heard henry ask her.

“fine,” allie moaned.

but when the game did end, i found myself siding with allie: not wanting it to ever be over. i was actually having… fun..?

“didja like it?” percy asked me, bending down a bit to put a hand on my shoulder. i grinned and nodded. “i wanna play it again.”

he chuckled. “maybe another time,” he winked at me.

our dinner that night was a whole cheese pizza, with cookies and milk. i wasn’t used to the offer of such delicacies. only in school, and only on my birthday, did i ever recieve a treat such as that. so i didn’t quite know what to make of all of the others helping themselves to multiple slices, and multiple cookies.

“you sure you don’t want more?” percy asked me, flashing me a playful glance of disbelief.

i sat back in my seat and rested my hand on my stomach. “my tummy hurts,” i giggled.

“oh, c’mon, it can’t be hurting already, you’ve only had one of each, and no milk!” henry laughed, pushing the cookie platter my way. “c’mon, vinny, just one more.”

i shook my head, pushing it away, my smile fading slightly. “i… i don’t want any more.”

“she doesn’t eat much when we have pizza parties in class,” i heard percy mumble to him, and henry flashed a sad, almost concerned glance back at him in response.

“what’s the matter? why can’t she eat?” allie asked, a bit louder and more obnoxiously.

“she’s not used to rich food that we can afford. and that the school can afford,” percy explained further to her. “but she’s alright. she can eat what she wants to eat.”

contrary to what my daddy would always say to my mom, “she eats what i want her to eat. nothing more.”

i was used to eating hardly anything. i was used to watching my daddy eat the lion’s share. my mom getting what was left over. what more could my daddy want to eat? he was already grossly overweight.

“vinny,” i felt percy take my hand, “why don’t i lead you upstairs, into allie’s room? you’ll be sleeping there for the night, is that alright?”

i was too fearful of the consequences if i objected. so i nodded, with a small smile.

but i want to sleep with you, i thought to myself. you’re safe. you’re nice. you’re gentle. you’re happy.

so i let him take my hand and lead me upstairs.

“getting sleepy at all?” he asked, and i yawned in response.

“that game wore you out, didn’t it?”

i nodded, grinning. “but it was fun.”

he mirrored my smile and rubbed the top of my head. “i’m glad it was. you’re really good at running around.” as if i wasn’t forced to stay put in my room all day. he didn’t know that. did he?

“anyway, here it is.” we came to the top floor of the house, looking into a giant blue room with a blow-up mattress next to a queen-size bed. that was the biggest room i had ever seen. ever. it was nearly twice as big as my own room. it felt like a mansion.

then percy took a knee beside me, taking hold of both my hands.

“if you need me, i’m downstairs in the creamy yellow room,” he explained carefully to me. “it’ll be the second door on the left. and the door will be left open a crack, so you’ll know. i’ll even put a sign, if you’d like. i’m always here if you need me. okay?” he looked me directly in the eyes as he said this. something my daddy never did with my mom.

i nodded slowly, smiling a bit. “okay.”

he smiled back at me and ran a hand from the front of my head to the back. “you’re a beautiful girl,” he said to me in a considerably lower voice. “really beautiful.”

“thanks,” i felt myself blush a bit. i didn’t quite understand why he was being so nice to me just then. i knew that he had a reputation for being nice to all his students, very welcoming, embracing. but it seemed like this, right now, carried a special purpose and meaning to it. i just didn’t know what it was.

after percy gradually let go of my hands, stood back up and left, allie came running in.

“sleepoverrr!!!” she grinned, jumping onto my air mattress.

“hey, don’t break that thing,” i heard henry call after her, “it cost us a lot of money.”

then he walked into the room, instantly taking notice of me.

he flashed me an empathetic smile and thumbs up. “you good?” he asked me, and i nodded.

“you like it here?”

i nodded again.

“okay, good.” he pointed to allie. “don’t let her wear you out too much. she’s supposed to only do that to us,” he chuckled.

then i watched as he turned around and left the room, leaving just me and allie there.

i looked back to allie, who was now jumping on her own bed.

“i’m not tired,” she sang, right before flopping down on the mattress with her head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“allie…” i whispered, looking around… “there’s no… monsters here… are there?”

allie looked around with me, shrugging. “no,” she grinned, “no monsters, only shadows. monsters aren’t real, they can’t hurt you.” she gestured to all the fairy lights all around her, glowing in a rainbow of colors. “let’s play fairies, who live in fairy kingdom,” she giggled. “i’m the queen fairy, and…” she yawned. “they’re very… very… friendly… nice… sweet… fair….ies…” suddenly i could see her head turn around in the pillow, facing away from me.

suddenly the lights grew dark, and outside the window, the sky was pitch black.

nighttime was the scariest time for me. it was the time of night where i often experienced night terrors, tremors. i had to be on high alert. that was, until i drifted off to sleep naturally. but i had a hard time falling asleep. i was never finally diagnosed with insomnia. but i was always fearful, of what would happen when i was asleep, because when i was asleep, i was unconscious. unable to put up my defenses. not from anything physical. no, no. he was asleep. i guess that was something i could look forward to. but really, what was there to look forward to, in a life like mine?

in my dreams, i was a delicate, fragile object. a subject of even greater fright and fear.

i would hear the glass shattering against the wall. the muffled, disgruntled screeching, screaming, yelling. cursing the lord’s name. listing off sins that i was too innocent to grasp comprehending. the hits. the slaps. the punches. the yelps of pain, of agony. the loud, overbearing threats. and i could see the clenched fists, the large boots that made those loud footsteps that i always dreaded hearing. the ones that made my pulsing heart catch in my throat.

and when he came for me, my heart stopped entirely.

i felt numb, dizzy. i could feel the large, grimy hand tickle the back of my neck. grip it with a force i couldn’t describe in accurate words. the pressure that my bones felt. oh i’d always feel claustrophobic even if the space was open as ever. and the verbal torture. the demands. the questions. the “don’t play dumb with me young lady,” followed by and even gruffer “you ain’t know shit.” the throwing against the wall. the concussion. everything being blurry to me. “don’t you hurt her like that, she’s only five!” more screaming. yelling, cursing. the voices raising to a crescendo thag only led to an ear-splitting headache.

the next morning, i’d always awake to the tiny lacerations he left behind. all the bruises. and i’d hurt. and i’d hurt knowing that the cycle would repeat in precisely twelve hours from then.

my eyes shot open, my breath quickening, lungs feeling like they were catching fire and burning down into black ash. i looked outside the window. the black sky was still there. everything was black. the room was dark. i felt comfortable knowing that for once, something other than my eye was that color.

i scrambled out of my bed and ran out of the room.

the hallway was dark. my heart was bound to leap out of its chest with every passing second. i counted them in my mind with each footstep crewing closer and closer to the staircase.

i walked slowly, carefully, gradually, fearing any misstep that would surely wake the entire house up. but how could it, when the place was so huge?

i never could admit being fearful of the dark. but maybe the fear was subtle. lingering. i never knew for sure until my therapist gave a thorough analysis. more than anything, i was fearful of pain. of abuse. and of neglect. and compared to all those fears, a fear of the dark seemed so insignificant. so childlike. i was a child. i was still. so. innocent.

i began to run down the stairs, before reaching the bottom. i nearly tripped on the last of the stairs, coming so close to falling flat on my face. i thought i was going to throw up, and my heart would come right out along with the vommit.

and that’s when i heard it.

footsteps.

my heels did an entire 180° turn and i bolted in the opposite direction, about to leap right back up those stairs, before i felt a hand grab one of mine.

i used the other to stifle the scream that nearly jumped out of my vocal chords. instead, it merely sounded muffled.

i felt my whole body shake uncontrollably, frozen in place. i could move. i couldn’t breath. i could barely speak. as if i was paralyzed. this feeling i was so used to, although to anyone else, it would probably feel like the worst feeling in the world.

“p-please d-don’t… please don’t hurt me daddy…” my quiet voice stammered, the routine response i gave anytime i was caught doing anything wrong… or just… anything.

but the grab my hand received wasn’t at all like the ones i’d been so used to receiving.

it was a simple grab.

not a yank. not a tug. not a pull.

just a hand holding mine. and it didn’t feel hairy, or rough.

the skin felt soft to touch. and almost… comforting.

but i was still skeptical.

the fingers intertwined with mine, something my daddy never did.

and it held it firmly in place, not shaking my arm loose and treating me like i was some rag doll.

no. to this hand i was a person. a human being. just an innocent little kid.

and then i recognized it.

suddenly a light flickered on, and we were both in a creamy yellow room, sitting on a quite comfortable bed. i was too much in a daze to even pay attention to where i was being taken to, where i was walking to.

“percy,” i whispered when i saw his face, nearly jumping into his lap and wrapping my arms around his torso, squeezing him tight. “i was so scared.”

i felt his hand rub my back gently. he felt so warm. so soft. unlike any person i’d ever seen or felt before.

“you were having a nightmare, weren’t you?” he whispered in my ear.

i nodded.

“oh, darling,” he pressed a kiss into my temple. “i’m so sorry to hear that. i promise i won’t hurt you. i promise.” he held me closer to him, squeezing me just a touch. “i promise i won’t let anything hurt you, okay?” he kissed me again. “i promise.”

he could still feel me trembling slightly. the nerves were still lingering.

“your mom told me about your nightmares… and how you have them every night, yeah?” now he was speaking to me in an almost-whisper.

i nodded, not wanting to let go.

“that’s… that’s horrible…” it felt like he was muttering this to himself moreso than me. “i’m… i’m so sorry…”

there was a brief lull in the conversation, before i felt his hand rub my back again.

“vinnie… you would trust me… wouldn’t you?”

i nodded.

“you promise?”

“i promise.” the inflection in my voice was more genuine than when i made the promise to my mom. it didn’t feel like i had to be obedient. it felt like… it felt like i was speaking to someone i knew i could be honest to.

“i don’t want you feeling scared,” percy whispered to me. “i never want you feeling unsafe. or that you’re not wanted. or loved. i never want to hurt you. i never want to treat you like a prisoner. i never want to harm you with my words. i never… i never want to do any of that. because that’s just… that’s just wrong.” he shifted my position around in his lap so that i was facing him, tilting my chin up so my eyes met him.

i nodded slowly, to show that i was understanding what he was saying. and i knew that what he was saying was true. my mom knew this as well, but our opinions were always stifled under the only opinion that mattered in our own household… so they carried no significance. here, with percy, someone finally understood.

“it’s wrong,” he whispered to me, shaking his head. “very wrong. you… you go to jail for shit like that. why… why isn’t he in jail…” as if he was asking me.

i shrugged.

he looked down at me, shaking his head with a small smile. “sorry, just talking to myself. i don’t think you know what all that means yet.” he rubbed the top of my head, bringing it into his chest. “that’s okay.”

“can i… can i stay here?” i whispered with slight hesitation.

“of course you can.” there was no hesitation in his. “you poor thing. i hate to see you so scared.”

he seemed lost in thought for a brief moment.

then he smiled, looking down at me again. “did your mom ever tell you a bedtime story?”

i shook my head.

“no?” he stroked the top of my head again. “well, i guess it’s time you hear one. you… wanna hear one?”

i nodded, my curiosity instantly piqued.

so he began to tell the story of a small boy, about my age, with a missing front tooth and a plush duck he carried around with him all the time, named num-nums, and how he loved to spend his time in his backyard, playing in his treehouse, making up these strange creatures in his head, monsters he called them, but they weren’t scary monsters. they were friendly monsters, that were colored all these different bright colors, and had different numbers of eyes. some had horns. some looked really, really mean, and really, really big, but they were all gentle and kind. and when he’d tell his classmates at school about them, they would all be scared of them. later on, they would laugh at him, for still believing in “imaginary friends.” and even more later on, he realized that his monsters were much, much nicer than humans ever were to him, and could be to anyone. humans were the real monsters. the real-life monsters.

“that’s why he liked children so much,” he said. “they love to frolic in fantasy, to play pretend, and to not care about the real world.” he sighed. “i wish i could still be a kid... but, eventually you grow up and you learn just how terrible the real world is.”

there was a sad gleam in his eye as he looked off to the side, at the wall closest to us, before glancing back down to me.

“you like your mom, don’t you?”

i smiled and nodded.

“she’s nice, isn’t she?”

i continued to nod.

“yeah, she’s real nice. very nice… she adores you… so much… you’ve no idea…” he brushed a tuft of my hair back behind my ear with his fingers. “and you take right after her,” he swiped my nose. “beautiful. kind. cute…” he tickled my tummy a bit. “got a cute laugh.” he rocked me a bit in his arm. “she never told me how adorable you were.” his smile only seemed to grow wider. “and now i know.”

i’d never heard someone speak as quiet as he did. it almost hit you straight in the heart, how genuine he sounded, how endearing he acted… he truly meant what he said and did. he had nothing but true intentions. he didn’t have to put up a single act. all he wanted was for me to be safe, comfortable, but not just that. he went beyond that. he wanted me to be happy as well.

and i couldn’t stop grinning every time he spoke to me.

“your mom never married that jerk, did she?”

i shook my head.

“she’s gonna run away from him, isn’t she?”

my mom never mentioned that, so i shrugged.

percy shook his head. “never mind that.”

i thought back to what i did remember her telling me. that she did want to get married. that she wanted to have another baby. she always wanted a family with the right person, and she always wanted two kids. two was a lucky number for her.

“look at this,” percy reached over and pulled something out of his bedroom drawer. it was a small box, and when he opened it up, a small diamond ring was inside. it looked dazzling. like something out of a dream.

“you think she’ll like it?” percy asked me, putting the box in my hands.

i took one good look at it before passing it back to him, nodding. “yeah.”

“you think she’ll like wearing it?”

i nodded.

i didn’t know what significance that ring held, but the way percy made it sound, it seemed super important.

i watched as he put it back away in the drawer.

“tell me this, vinnie…” percy’s voice caught my attention as he sat back down. “how would you feel about you and your mom moving closer to here,” he pointed down at the ground, “and having me come stay with you guys for a bit? like, living together? would you mind that?”

i didn’t have to contemplate that for one second, something in my mind told me that i could immediately say yes to that question. i just knew.

“i would like it,” i grinned.

“would you?” there was an eager inflection in his voice. “what about if i stayed…” he leaned in close to me, “forever?” when he said “forever,” he made it sound like a mysterious whisper, which made me giggle.

“i would like that,” i said again, without second thought.

he chuckled a bit and squeezed me tight. “aw, that’s great. then we could have sleepovers every. single. night. and pillow fights. and more pizza and cookies…” he looked down at me, caressing my cheek a bit. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

i eagerly nodded, giggling.

“yeah, that would be fun.” he gave my back another rub. “you’re such a love.”

this made me feel warm inside. it was the strangest feeling, something i never thought anyone was capable of making me possess. except maybe in school, where i could be as far away from my daddy as i possibly could. or rather, someone that i wouldn’t be calling “daddy” for much longer.

“i wish i could see you more,” i found myself saying to him.

“ah, well, you’ll be getting that wish,” percy chuckled. this made me smile wide.

i threw my arms around him again and squeezed him tight, this time, not for protection, but rather, genuine affection. something i never knew anyone was capable of possessing, let alone me.

he smiled and kissed my forehead, running his fingers through my hair. “i love you,” he whispered. “i mean it. i really do. i just… i just hope you love me too.”

“i love you too,” i whispered back, nuzzling into his shirt, finding myself drifting off into the most comfortable sleep i’d remembered having, quite possibly ever.

and as the weeks and months passed, i learned how to trust and love percy more and more. he grew to be my favorite person in the entire universe. he was the one i always turned to, even more than my mom.

now, ten years after that night i remember so vividly, i was proud to no longer call him percy, but instead, a name that i used to hate saying with all my breath, sounding so revolting once it rolled off my tongue.

now, that word carried a complete opposite meaning, a meaning of love and trust, of care and compassion.

now, i didn’t feel pity when i said that word.

now, i felt proud to say it, every time i did.

because now, i could call him dad.

and he was the happiest dad you could ever meet, because he didn’t just have one daughter to gush over.

he had two.

i now had a baby sister named pepper, that was biologically his.

and he loved her to bits and pieces.

the man that i once called my daddy eventually did get sent to prison, it only took long enough, but once that day came, we celebrated with full vigor… and lots of pizza, of course.

that came after we moved into the house right next door to allie’s, where she and henry still live. but percy now had a life of his own.

as did i.

and now, i was ready to start a new chapter of my life.

a chapter with my girlfriend, connie.

[linagram]

hi i'm in the mood to infodump and i almost started typing something that is a very big spoiler to the second timeline so instead i'll talk about something that we already know which is. sanada brothers' relationship.

so i think i haven't talked about any of the possible t3 covers (except mentioning yurika's deco cover on my main) but like. yes i've said it before and i'll say it again rabbit girl outfit kei will be real in like. a few months probably. i mean i've drawn him before so he's already kinda real

HOWEVER what i didn't mention is that i was thinking of giving him mozaik role as his possible guilty cover! but then he got absolutely hit by that innosweep so yeah. no kei mozaik role.

but i listened to it again earlier and i was like. hold on. hold on. these lyrics are. kinda kei AND eiji coded.

obviously, it would have a more platonic meaning in this case (it's so hard to work with deco's songs sometimes, it's like i KNOW pretty much all of his songs are about romance and i'm like. b-but what if i need something different..), but like. look at this. please stay in this space with me.

so you're staying with me here? good!

so, let's point out some of the kei-coded lyrics.

"i compared the fluid that leaked out of the wound to love". YEAH. yeah, this is kei with his "pain means love btw <3" beliefs. if you're wondering how and why did he even start to think so, in his first interrogation he says that it's what eiji and kei's mother always used to say and i overall kinda tried to imply that he's VERY attached to his mom. (i am planning to make a post about her and eiko's mother soon!)

"you gave me a sweet lie that "it's okay to be a coward", have i been able to escape?" even though eiji is the younger brother, he's the one who always protected kei from other people and kei is actually very dependent on him, i mean, he literally calls him his older brother sometimes. "wait who did he have to protect kei from" first of all, this hasn't really been talked about before, but i think it's easy to guess that kei always kinda had this weird kid kind of reputation. which would lead to. yeah. bullying. and also.. um. mrs sanada believed that pain means love and kei also thinks that she loved him more than she loved eiji. i think that's enough information. (it also should be mentioned that right now eiji is 19 and kei is 25 and the age difference is actually quite big, which means that when 16 y/o kei was in trouble, A LITERAL 10 YEAR OLD TRIED TO PROTECT HIM. AND KEI CALLED HIM HIS OLDER BROTHER EVEN THEN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY EIJI IS LIKE THIS NOW.)

"what's wrong with killing me, me who you hate" well. i think we all know this. no matter how much eiji says that he hates kei, no matter how messed up their relationship is and no matter how badly kei treated (and still does) him, eiji simply wouldn't be able to actually kill him. yes, he punished and tortured him, but he wouldn't be brave enough to actually sentence him to death.

now, about eiji-coded lyrics.

"i will be sick of you by the end of this", "i will drink up all the tears that you gave me". pretty self-explanatory, but the second one can also refer to the fact that even though eiji does recognize that the way kei treated him was abusive and unhealthy, he still can't let him go for some reason, so sadly, he will just continue to ruin himself while claiming that he hates him and kei deserves to die and also visiting him and checking up on him every day, "just because he wants to see kei in pain", yeah, sure. he cried so many tears because of kei, but he will still drink them up.

"is this called "i loved you"? where i struggle to cling to you". again. eiji, sweetie, make up your mind. this is the part of eiji and kei's relationship that is so heartbreaking to me because even though eiji himself knows how toxic their relationship is, he's still attached to kei and still cares about him. i don't know, something about him still trying to take care of kei who abused him both physically and emotionally and believing that kei still needs him (and he's not wrong) is so. 😔😔😔

and the lyrics that fit both of them!

"and yet, i love you", "what's wrong with me loving you, bound together, so nobody can touch you" these two are so codependent, it's scary. and actually, i SHOULD talk more about how much these two depend on each other because if you think about it, both kei and eiji try to fight for independence in their own way. kei's way of fighting is having as many relationships (that last like a week or two) as possible, almost as if saying "yes i DO get bitches, but i can easily leave them as soon as i'm bored, i am sooooo cool" and doing illegal and creepy things such as. yeah. literally taking pics of people being tortured for money and his own personal amusement, like he's saying "aren't i so cool for doing this. aren't you afraid of me. please say that you are, give me a reason to feel like i'm in control here". meanwhile eiji not only hates criminals because he associates them with kei, but he also punishes them in the worst ways possible and enjoys it because he wants to feel like he can do something himself, without anyone's help, and he wants to prove that he's strong. look at him, a 16 y/o kid got a horrible head injury because of him and it's possible that he will die soon! eiji is so strong, isn't he? he even had enough courage to punish his own brother, who already had scars and was afraid of eiji touching him! he also forced yurika to relive the days of being a maid even though she hated every second of it! w-what do you mean, that's.. bad?

so yeah, both sanada brothers just want to be seen as cool and mature and be treated like adults, except they.. don't even know what being an adult is like. their mother is a toymaker who was basically a child pretending to be a grown-up, eiji was forced to become an older brother figure even before he went to middle school, kei literally sees everything through rose-colored glasses, eiji believes that violence is the only way to show that he's stronger than others and kei tends to unconsciously age regress when he's panicking or in an unsafe situation. yeah, these two want to and will beat each other up. and yes, they love each other in the most twisted way.

"this is fate as well, it will disappear, disappear, our world of love" SO U H . i feel like if i say anything, it will be a spoiler, so let me just say this. both sanada brothers were/are/will lose something that feels like home to them. kei misses ruka and he committed his crime exactly because his world started to fall apart and he started to think that ruka will be taken away from him (surprisingly, he actually did it not in a yandere way and it wasn't really a result of obsession, but him realizing that he cares about him. after all, he did say in his first interrogation that "he thinks he really did love that person".). and we know that all of this is going to end one day, but we don't know what is going to happen to the guards after their job is done. and considering that eiji finally feels like he has found what he was made for and what he likes to do.. yeah. yeah, it's possible that his world is going to disappear as well.

my brain is running out of brain juices, so let me just show these screenshots. do you see my vision

[whumpthefifth]

Margaret Wright — Original Character Profile #1

WARNING FOR - Violence, mentions of sex, war crimes, xenophobia (brief), Emotional, physical and psychological manipulation/sadism/abuse (most are brief mentions, but just in case :])

Summary: Margaret Diane Wright, or Maggie as she is simply called, is one of the main antagonistic characters in my OC story. She is a dual figure - she lives a double life of high society and crime, though those lines, as they so often are with other aristocrats in Gane, are blurred. On one side she is friendly, witty and personable, and on the other she is sadistic, perverted and egomaniacal.

Basics:

Age: 32

Gender: Female

Height: 5’9

Complexion: Very pale.

Hair: Black, with silvery streaks. Eyes: Mahogany

Build: Gaunt, lithe and wiry.

Detailed Phys. Description:

Maggie has a very striking appearance. She is thin and bony, with large, half-lidded eyes. Her gaze is intense, and can make people uncomfortable, stuck in a permanent, piercing leer. Clothes-wise, Maggie retains a well groomed, elegant appearance. She is very aesthetically inclined, as her appearance must play a part with her charisma to help with the illusion of friendliness. It’s stylish and smart, yet her attire is not over the top. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail for practicality, and has not styled her hair since girlhood.

Non-Visual

Her voice can best be described as a low croon. She does not speak too quietly nor too loudly, and speaks with a lilt that is often entrancing. This is aided by her accent, that which characterizes her upbringing in the Ganish countryside - it resembles a mix of Cockney and Cajun. Despite her sophisticated, mellifluous voice, she laughs - or more, giggles - like a little kid. She has a slight smoker’s voice, as she owns a pipe which she uses frequently for tobacco or mild substances.

Maggie has a very particular way of speaking, often putting on a more sophisticated cadence around aristocrats over her usual way of speaking. She mixes somewhat childish slang in with the more high brow way of speaking characteristic of the wealthy. It’s quite uncomfortable to listen to - imagine someone talking about the economy crashing and then randomly saying it’s ‘real stinky-winky’

Personality Maggie’s personality is a slew of contradictions. She wears a façade of politeness and graciousness when interacting with those she intends to manipulate, concealing her true nature. However, beneath this mask lies a highly dangerous, ruthless, and conniving individual who stops at nothing to achieve her goals. She is physically, emotionally and psychologically sadistic - she ‘gets ‘er jollies off’ at other people suffering, whether it be pain, distress or discomfort. She’s a schadenfreude (I hope I used that right). Often she may make off-hand, completely inappropriate comments to make people on edge, because she likes to provoke people (and she’s also a weird pervert). Whether this may be unwarranted lewd comments, backhanded compliments, intentional insensitivity (lmao ur grandma died) or straight up xenophobia/bigotry, she’ll do it if she finds someone boring or annoying and wants to ‘spice up’ the conversation, with little regard to anyone else.

She does not really view other people as, well, people. She thinks they’re toys or obstacles, completely unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge how her actions affect others. She thinks life is a game, and she pursues her own needs above all else.

This, of course, is when the polite facade drops. Her real self may slip through when talking to those she intends to trick, but for all many know, she’s a friendly, upbeat person to be around.

Around adversaries, however, she exudes an aura of coldness and menace, and her mere presence can evoke an intense feeling of threat. When things don't go as planned, Maggie is prone to sudden fits of anger, which can escalate into acts of violence against anyone unfortunate enough to have crossed her.

She is, in fact, a diehard Ganish patriot, particularly so as she’s a veteran of the Scarlet War. She also collects harpoon guns, which she treats with more affection and doting than any living creature in her life.

She is also an incel/femcel, very much having a ‘nice girl’ complex. If she existed in this world today she would be a 4chan regular.

Biography:

Margaret Wright was born into a wealthy family in the Ganish countryside, raised on a sprawling estate. Her father, Wayne Wright, was the retired owner of a weapons manufacturing company, while her mother, Justice Wright, was a disgraced doctor seeking to regain her standing with the Healer’s Guild. Maggie enjoyed a privileged childhood, showered with love and gifts from her wealthy parents as a youngster, though she was not particularly demanding.

Maggie's sadistic tendencies began to manifest at an early age. She engaged in cruel acts against small animals, such as killing rats with hammers, and later escalated to tormenting her schoolmates. One such being a young girl named Penny O’Laughlin. Penny was an academic girl, though insecure and shy. Maggie ‘befriended’ her, though really, she tormented her for years. Not just bullied her like other kids, no, she straight up used her as a verbal and physical punching bag, which would traumatize Penny for years, practically ruining her life. Maggie was like a female Souichi from Junji Ito, except not an outcast and with the favor of the adults in her life.

Astonishingly, her parents not only permitted her sadism but actively encouraged it, believing they could use her deviant behavior for Justice's research on child development. They also had very rigid and warped beliefs on Ganish traditions, and believed Maggie was showing normal signs of a Good Patriotic Child.

As Maggie grew older, her parents' interest in her waned. Her father was an alcoholic, wrought with paranoia as he feared he would be killed for Blood Inheritance. Maggie had a better relationship with him than her mother, however, and Wayne Wright taught her various firearms skills as they planned to send her to military school. Her mother focused on her research, emotionally distant and cold toward her daughter. Her parents' increasing coldness and disinterest pushed Maggie toward frustration and hatred.

In her teenage years, she drifted into a life of petty crime and delinquency, a path that brought her more joy than her peers who joined her. While her friends did it for excitement and rebelliousness, Maggie planned the whole schtick out in meticulous detail, taking it very seriously. Her wealthy background shielded her from serious consequences while her friends got the grunt of it. At sixteen, Maggie's frustration with her parents boiled over, leading to a crime of passion - she shot her mother in the stomach and fled, escaping onto a train to the main city of Gane. The bullet ultimately caused her mother's death from sepsis, and her father got the blame for it due to his increasingly erratic behaviour.

Maggie got a job at various small businesses, living under the care of a haggard old butcher called Mervy Glunch. She retained her taste for misbehavior and a penchant for violence, however, and Maggie got involved with a criminal crowd. Her actions and aggression escalated, which got her fired and evicted by Mr. Glunch. Luckily (well, no, not really) she was approached by a military recruiter, landing her in the military during the Scarlet War at age 20.

She LOVED it, unlike her rather miserable comrades. She loved the thrill of war, the violence, the patriotism, the guns and the prestige. Power and blood, a cocktail made just for her. She would forever look back on it with fondness, considering her “service” the peak of her life. Her extreme sadism and disobedience toward superiors led to her discharge, but her violent tendencies continued.

In the following years, Maggie endured depression and a sense of purposelessness. She had been kicked off the high of war, and felt empty. She lived in a shabby apartment in the ghettos, developing a drinking habit much like her father and starting her smoking habit also. She engaged in various jobs before rising through the ranks of various service jobs, where she used her charm to cater to wealthy, elderly clients. Much like Ciaccolata from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, she would torment and then kill the elderly people under her care, knowing they were helpless due to their frailty and senility.

Despite this, she was somewhat good at her job (and covering up the murders) — good enough to land her a place at the royal Butler’s Academy. She underwent rigorous training to join the elite butlers destined to serve at the grand Ganish palace.

She graduated, and her life took an intriguing turn as she became a personal butler for the royal family. She in fact became a valet for Prince Louis III.

Eventually they developed an affair, though Maggie only saw Louis as a tool and a sex object. Using her influence over Prince Louis III, Maggie could pull strings in the aristocracy and gain influence quickly. Her charisma wooed the wealthy, making her quite popular - and while she was still technically a butler and systematically inferior to them, she was elevated to aristocratic status by every other account. Maggie's relationship with the royal family remains precarious, marked by secrecy and controversy. The aristocrats go crazy for a scandal — Though they remain oblivious to Maggie’s true, sadistic self.

Maggie’s life in crime really kicks off with this newfound influence. She becomes a middle man, working for the kingpin Lady Jane’s Drooz drug empire. Drooz is a drug manufactured from hormones in the blood, but is highly unethical to produce. That’s no matter — Maggie’s pals with a quack doctor and a chemist, Dr Eustace Crawford and Dr Esther Crawford. There, she distributes the product to wealthy aristocratic clients, splitting the shares with Jane — Though their relationship is tumultuous, as Jane finds Maggie rather repulsive.

Trivia

Maggie has a lecherous and creepy side, especially toward men she finds attractive. She collects erotic magazines and photos.

She has a deep affinity for guns and often fantasizes about her military days. Her shelf is stacked with every model of a handheld harpoon known to man.

Maggie's favorite color is periwinkle. She also quite likes purple.

She calls Prince Louis "pet" and “Louie” as affectionate nicknames.

She holds xenophobic views thanks to her obnoxiously patriotic parents and also the fact she’s. Well. A war criminal

Sunflower seeds are her favorite snack, and absinthe is her drink of choice. She's a heavy smoker, using fragrance to mask the smell of tobacco wafting off of her. She smokes through an elongated pipe which resembles a kiseru.

[dullahandyke]

[Image description: a graphic which reads, "Tumblr 2022: my year in review".]

I posted 10,340 times in 2022

1,012 posts created (10%)

9,328 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dullahandame

@fullmetal-alcremist

@avatar-tuner

@tmoblrina

@whats-2minus1

I tagged 2,855 of my posts in 2022

#swearing - 130 posts

#food - 123 posts

#yelling emernally - 118 posts

#food mention - 112 posts

#late late toy show - 109 posts

#gif - 100 posts

#caps - 80 posts

#unreality - 71 posts

#taz balance spoilers - 53 posts

#'long post' - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#it is physically impossible to cry while watching legally blonde it is physically impossible to cry while watching legally blonde it is phy

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Efink Murderdeath is literally so important to me. She named herself Efink Murderdeath. She is canonically sopping wet at all times. She's autistic. She openly advocates for switching sides so that she personally does not get hurt every two minutes. She married a man because he had a beard and for centuries she carried around divorce papers for when she next saw him but when she next saw him he was a king so she went OH OKAYYY I CAN ROLL. She then pushed him off a cliff no hesitation because she wanted to make her friends like her. She needs to feel wanted and she calls herself hot so often and she's so right. She and Lilith DEFINITELY have a thing. Her arc is about discovering the power of friendship and then using that power to become the grim reaper. She asks for hugs. She hates her dad. And most importantly she is transgender

1,112 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#4

the number of people i've seen with both 'exclusionists DNI' and 'bi/pan lesbians DNI'... pleeease tell me you hear yourselves and then please tell me why it's different when these people who have a complex relationship with sexuality are worthy of your hatred.

1,405 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#3

Shoutout to blogs focused on discussing aromanticism. It's vital that our perspectives and thoughts are shared, but the moment our posts leave our circle, they are subject to horrific amounts of ridicule, abuse, and 'debate' regarding our identities. Your work is vital, and I hope that your notes are kind to you.

1,609 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

#2

if a mutual says 'prev' theyre shaking your hand and if they say 'PREV!!!' theyre gesturing at you wildly like an overly showy dog and if they say 'prev.' theyre echoing your wisdom as you hold each other in your arms with the solemnity of two people who know they are approaching death

3,757 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

if your piracy streaming site of choice doesn't have built-in subtitles, there's a firefox add-on that can add them from opensubtitles! you might have to right click and open the video in a new tab, but in my experience it works pretty well, and you can search for the subtitles from the add-on!

4,916 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hero-of-the-depths]

TW: ABUSE TALK, MENTIONS: PLURALITY, CULT PROGRAMMING, PHYS. ABUSE, GASLIGHTING

Venting below the cut

it's eating me alive that I came out of this with literal cult trauma and he's out there not only manipulating more vulnerable people into his life but lying about me, saying I was abusive to him and "never let him do anything" like.

bro. you have to try to do anything first in order to be denied that thing. secondly, you genuinely tried to control MY SYSTEM. like who the FUCK decides to take personal offense and tell someone they're making a moral failing when they decide FOR THEMSELF that they want to largely integrate/fuse. starts fights. turns sysmates against each other. and that's just a couple things you did. You never valued my bodily autonomy.

I still think on a regular basis about the time I woke up with a handprint bruise on my arm and you told me "Oh you probably ran into something" bitch, the FUCK? I got that memory back and I know you were gripping 🌼's arm so hard it bruised because he was scared to look at you.

I could genuinely write a book about all the shit that happened to me over four years, y'all. It was fucking bad. Think Final Fantasy House on steroids. Seriously, be careful with your sense of reality when you play with plurality, spiritual otherkinity, etcetc. And for the love of fuck the minute someone says they're LITERALLY your soulmate, I'm not saying they're inherently toxic but do take a moment to re-examine your relationships.

And the minute someone tries to control your plurality, run.

I still can't believe you told [friend] that he "violated your privacy" by switching in a conversation without even initially realizing. How fucked up can you be?

[caelcstis]

How does the character express and handle emotions?

How does the character view authority and rules?

How does the character react to failure or mistakes?

How does the character view their role in society or a larger community? (For Raphael)

character building. // @r3dblccd always accepting !!

How does the character express and handle emotions?

it really depends because for the most part, raphael is a slave to his emotions because they aren't just his. while he cares for others, heals them, he often takes the burden of their emotions to make them feel lifted and lighter, and eventually be able to work through their own problems without feeling so pulled down. he is emotional, and he is often times more genuine than not when revealing his emotions. however, he has been burnt and bitten a lot growing up for being so emotional compared to other angels. because of this, he has developed the habit of smiling a lot more to hide his pain. he denies help from others as much as it can be denied of others when he wants to help.

there's a cost to him bottling it up all the time of course, and it eventually combusts on him. raphael's emotions can be so severe that he can influence others to feel what he's feeling, make them cry as he's crying despite they don't feel that remorse or sadness, feel the intense pressure of anger in his chest and clenched teeth. a good way to tell if raphael's upset or angry is to always look at his eyes. sometimes those bright flecks of gold become more prominent when he's angry, or his usual bright viridian eyes turn more turquoise or a deep blue topaz - he might be upset and simply refusing to talk about it.

How does the character view authority and rules?

raphael is chaotic good in his morality scale so LIKE, he does obey a lot, but he may also push those boundaries towards his own belief of what's good compared to the status quo or what he's been told is good. hence why he had fought for ipos and orobas when they were being judged. for what? a young angel being assaulted and his brother protecting him? yes orobas had killed those humans, a wrong, but it was for his brother's protection. not to mention the assault was twisted into being ipos's fault.

he also tried to talk sense with michael when it came to lucifer's fall. to not kill him, to not hurt each other more than what they have. they both threw him away and eventually michael had almost killed lucifer, but still failed in the process.

raphael's an archangel, a seraph - very high on the scale of angels and their authority. he doesn't abuse his position and he knows that even at his stance, michael is above him as their general and prince. he tends to obey michael, but they still butt heads and grind on each other's gears.

How does the character react to failure or mistakes?

when it comes to others, he never holds anything against them. i believe the only grudges he held were towards gabriel and michael - but even michael eventually worked back raphael's trust. he knows mistakes happen, he knows not everything can be perfect even as an angel - he knows he is very flawed compared to the original two who were created before him.

however with himself? he holds himself in contempt basically. he hates not being able to save others, even if it is part of the divine plan. he still has nightmares about ipos and orobas, even all these years and lifetimes later. he hates when he messes up, when there's imperfection being showed on his end because he has been held to such high standards next to the other angels.

even now, he still hates that he's not as strong at times. with magic he is the most adept with, but strength? it isn't in his wheelhouse. he's not built and corded with muscle, he isn't a warrior. he hates that he isn't perfect when put next to the others.

How does the character view their role in society or a larger community? (For Raphael)

raphael knows he plays a big part in others lives, even if they don't know it. he takes care of others physically and mentally when they ask for the help of another. even in heaven, again he knows he holds authority, even if everyone sees him as a bumbling idiot. but, he's always been a pacifist so he holds himself on the sidelines and in the background rather than right in the center of heavenly politics and relations. that's michael's job not his, right hand or not lmao. but again, never puts himself in the middle of everything and everyone, never asks for thanks when he does something worthwhile to his community or towards others outside of it. he's just glad that they're okay and healthy.

[gutouhua]

title. the shrine master (part ii of the shrine master's bride)

pairing. sukuna x f. reader

wc. 9.8k+

cw. ooc soft!sukuna, illiterate (how ironic) & low self-esteem reader, mentions of phys. & verbal abuse (not by sukuna), love marks/hickeys, pet names (sparrow, love), slight corruption kink, ear licking/kissing, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, exhibitionist reader (a tiny bit), praise kink, dom/sub undertones (i think), misogynistic society, slightly rough sex (hair pulling), blowjob (m. receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk

a/n. no beta we die like rex lapis, not really edited, read at your own risk lol. hope y'all enjoyyyyy! as always, reblogs appreciated & if you like what i write i have a tip jar <;3

“Open.” He pressed his fingers against your lips again, slowly feeding the digits through the soft seam of your mouth. 

You were hesitant at first, your mouth was just barely open, but when Sukuna began to massage your tongue, slipping his fingers inside the grab the flesh, petting against the roof of your mouth, you couldn’t help but relax your jaw to let him in deeper. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, and those two words were almost enough to make you forget about the fact that anyone could pass by and see the two of you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke in the morning was Sukuna’s heavy arms sprawled across your body like a massive cage. The second thing you noticed was that you were sore, very sore to the point that dragging yourself out of Sukuna’s blanketed warmth was an altogether physical and mental behemoth of a task.

But when you finally untwined yourself from him and the futon and caught a glimpse of your expression in the small mirror on the vanity, you realized that it was a good thing that you had gotten up slightly earlier than needed. Because the person looking back at you was someone unwholly familiar. A stranger with soft eyes and swollen lips.

A stranger who looked well and truly fucked.

You blushed, fingers hesitantly reaching towards your lips, remembering the way he had devoured you with a hunger that no one had ever showed you. And then your eyes went to your messy hair and you dropped your fingers in haste. You had no time to ponder the events of last night when you had your work cut out for you before going to town.

You would have to pick your prettiest kimono among limited options, apply makeup and do your hair nicely (although perhaps Momoka could help you with that since you did not have much experience, having always gone around your old home with a bare face and practical updo), and make breakfast all before the two of you headed to town. There was still some hesitancy that stemmed from your fear of Sukuna being ashamed of you in public because of your lack of cursed technique and your plain face, but maybe– 

No. You needed to prioritize, and how you felt wasn’t important compared to everything else that needed to be done. As quietly as you could, you waddled to the edge of your shared bedroom and slid the door open gently before shutting it, not noticing the amused expression Sukuna hid from you. 

As you made your way to the kitchen, tying your hair up with a faded red ribbon to prepare for work, you noticed that Momoka was already in the kitchen. The strong smell of miso wafted to the entrance and mackerels crackled in the large wok as Momoka steamed vegetables and plated freshly pickled ones on a nearby table.

Embarrassed that she was already preparing breakfast before you did, you shuffled meekly into the kitchen, an apology already prepared. “Momoka, I’m so sorry that you’re preparing breakfast for my husband when I should be the one doing it. I will have to wake up earlier tomorrow morning so you aren’t burdened with this task.” You didn’t want her to think that you were some lazy freeloader who lived off of others’ goodwill. 

“Oh, dear.” Momoka wiped her hands on her apron before patting your head lightly as if it was something she was used to. 

You stood awkwardly as she did, unused to the affection and unsure of how to respond, but luckily Momoka continued cooking. 

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. In fact, it is my responsibility to make breakfast for my master and mistress. So don’t worry your pretty little head and head back to your husband while I prepare breakfast,” she said with a wink that made you warmer than the kitchen was.

“But I–”

“No buts, my dear. Go back to your husband. Knowing him, he’ll be upset you left him so early without any sort of morning greeting.” She shooed you out of the kitchen, pushing you through the entrance and into the hallway. “Now let me do my work. Breakfast should be ready soon.” 

Momoka slid the door shut behind her, effectively ending the conversation.

I guess I’ll go back to the room for now. Maybe tidy up my appearance so he doesn’t get shocked at how much uglier I look in the morning. 

Making sure to keep your footsteps light, you headed back to the room and sat before the dresser to meticulously comb your hair, taking great effort to avoid your reflection in the mirror. There wasn’t much to look at – your hair was thin and brittle, skin dull, and face a little too wide, eyes a little too big to be considered any type of beauty.

As you combed your hair, lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when Sukuna had gotten up and wrapped his arms around you, head resting in the crook of your neck, his spicy warmth enveloping you.

You tensed at the sudden intrusion. “A-Ah, Ryomen-sama, wh-what are you doing?” 

He inhaled deeply before nuzzling you, tongue darting out to lick your nape. “Adoring my wife. What else would I be doing?”

“It tickles,” you murmured. 

Sukuna purred, the vibrations against your neck making you shiver. “I see my mark is still here,” he rumbled. He continued to lick your neck, sucking at the tender spots that were pink yesterday but now a deeper purple hue. 

You wanted to dig a hole six feet deep and bury yourself inside. If Sukuna was mentioning them, then surely Momoka had seen the marks as well. “Ryomen-sama…can you be more careful next time?” 

“Careful?” he murmured, only half-focused since most of his attention was set on the marks littered all over your neck.

“With the marks on my neck,” you mumbled, trying to twist away from him but to no avail. “And I think we were too loud last night. I’m pretty sure Momoka heard us.” 

“Ah yes.” Sukuna paused for a second as if pondering the accounts of last night. “Your cries of pleasure were most enjoyable, little sparrow. I hope you’ll make more of them tonight.” 

“D-Don’t say such things out loud!” you spluttered. “And I don’t want others to hear me.” It was more than enough that Momoka had heard you – imagine if the other servants did – you were afraid you’d never recover from the embarrassment.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “And why not?” 

Ah, did I make a mistake? Have I made him angry? You could feel your pulse thundering wildly against its thin cage of flesh and marks and each second of silence that went by as he waited for your response was deafening. 

He softened his gaze and held you tightly against his chest so that the hair you had carefully combed and styled fell out of its knot. “Speak, my little sparrow, there is nothing to worry about. I will not be mad. I promise.” 

“Do you promise?”

“My promises are ironclad.”

You exhaled deeply, steeling yourself. “Very well then…it’s…embarrassing to know that others can hear us. I don’t really like it.” You peeked up at him to gauge his reaction and then looked down, wringing your hands into the fabric of your faded kimono. “I’d prefer it if we were the only ones who could hear each other.” You finished with a mumble. 

Then you stayed still, afraid of what he would say or do next. When nothing came from him you turned around in his lap and were greeted with the sight of his hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his laugh. 

“My wife, you are much too hilarious for your own good. If that is what you desire – to be a feast for my eyes and ears alone – then of course I will grant you that wish. Although I like for others to know how well I can pleasure my wife, if you do not want others to know, then the solution is simple: I simply need to leave more marks on your pretty neck, and then they will know without a doubt that you are a very satisfied wife.” Sukuna pressed a light kiss to your forehead and then to your nose before pecking the corner of your still-swollen lip. 

“Shall we go eat breakfast then, little sparrow? I think Momoka should be just about done. Or,” he lowered his voice, eyes lingering on your lips. “Would you prefer a continuation of last night?” 

You snapped your hanging jaw shut. “Y-you’re so shameless,” you muttered. 

Sukuna chuckled and lifted you up smoothly, carrying you princess-style through the hallway and into the dining room, where two trays with food had been placed in the middle. You had initially protested eating at the same time as him since as master of the shrine and your husband, he should eat before you do, but he’d given you an incredulous look when you told him that and had Momoka set another dinner tray down, declaring that you’d eat all meals with him from here on out. 

It went against everything you were taught – at the Shirogane residence, you ate when the servants did after everyone else – but Ryomen-sama was the type who was difficult when you obeyed him and even more difficult when you disobeyed him. And you would not dare raise his ire.

He sat you down on your cushion first before folding himself into his. “Now let us eat, love. I would love to do more, but then I would not be able to stop myself and we would not be able to go into town to get the things I need.” And the things you need.

You picked up your chopsticks hesitantly, how unfamiliar it was, to eat in such a nice room with fresh food (not leftovers) cooked by someone other than yourself. Sukuna waited until you’d taken a couple of bites – you agonized over each bite – until he started on his own tray.

She’s still so nervous, but I have lots of time to teach her, he mused. 

With Momoka staying behind to tend to the shrine, Sukuna easily teleported the two of you downtown after breakfast. The sights and sounds of the city, with its loud trains and squawking vendors, simultaneously awed and scared you. It had been a while since you’d gone downtown and experienced the bustling city life since you had spent most of your life sequestered in the Shirogane residence after the death of your father, so you didn’t dare miss a single thing. Who knew when you’d be able to go into town again?

For Sukuna, seeing you take in the sights of the city was a secret delight for him. He liked it when you unconsciously clutched his sleeve a little too tightly whenever something or someone veered too close, enjoying the mixture of delight and fright on your face, but at the same time, he wanted to keep you locked away so that he could have you all to himself. There were too many men in town, Sukuna noticed with distaste, and you were such a cute little innocent thing. Men, himself included, would love to ruin such a thing. 

But he wouldn’t allow that. Only he could do that.

He tugged you closer. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You snapped your head away from a passing stall that was selling brightly decorated demon masks. Ah, you reminded yourself, I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. We’re not here for me, we’re here for Ryomen-sama. It was a sad thought, but one that was true. 

“Yes.” You managed brightly. “It’s very fun.” 

Sukuna tried to keep the frown out of his expression since he knew you’d get scared, but it was obvious that you were lying. Perhaps there was a reason for it, but no matter – Sukuna could wait. He could be patient when he wanted to.

“Good.” He led you to a large kimono shop in what seemed to be the busiest street you’d ever seen and tried to usher you in but you stopped him, tugging on the sleeve of his kimono with nervousness. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” you whispered.

The shop he wanted to enter was a famous kimono shop owned by the prestigious Aoki Clan who had been making kimonos for centuries. They had a cursed technique that helped them create beautiful garments, and were exclusive tailors for the royal family and nobles for many years. It wasn’t until recently did they expand so as to allow the nouveau riche to buy from them.

Why would Ryomen-sama take me to such a place? Indeed, the Aoki Clan could create garments for men as well, but they specialized in women’s attire. There was no good reason for Sukuna to visit the shop unless to buy a ladies kimono. 

“Yes, of course it’s the right shop.” People milled in and out of the shop so Sukuna drew you closer to him so no one would bump into you. “Follow me, wife.” 

Still, you were hesitant. But now you were garnering the glances of others and realized how sorely out of place you looked with your plain appearance and worn kimono. 

“Okay,” you whispered, taking his lead. It would be best to get out of the public’s view for right now lest you bring shame to your husband. 

Instantly upon entering the shop, you were greeted with the sight of the prettiest ladies dressed in the most fashionable kimonos. With their hair elaborately styled and makeup painted meticulously on their faces, they truly looked like walking, living pieces of art. You tugged on Sukuna’s wide sleeve again, somehow finding solace in it. You were worried about the looks everyone was giving you. Even with your head half-buried against his broad back in an attempt to somehow hide, you could feel their gazes on you. It was a feeling you knew all too well. 

“Are you getting something from here, Ryomen-sama? There are lots of pretty fabrics and colors that would suit you very well,” you said softly, so that only he could hear you. 

Sukuna was handsome enough to suit everything (you were of the mind that he could wear scraps and still somehow look stunning), but he usually stuck to white and light-colored kimonos and robes. 

“For me?” he rumbled. “No, wife. This particular shop run by the Aoki family is for women. Although,” he peered down at you, eyes heated, “I suppose this is a gift for me in a way.” 

You blushed, he was doing it again: shamelessly looking at you as if he was mentally undressing you and imagining all the ways he was going to ruin you. 

“O-Okay. If that is what you say.” 

He grunted and led you to the back of the shop before stopping at a counter and calling for someone. 

“Aoki-kun!”

A slender figure, hidden behind a mountain of colorful fabrics, appeared before the counter. “Ah, Ryomen-sama! How nice to see you again this year! I see you are back again to order a wardrobe for your–” He stopped in his tracks when he realized that your husband had brought someone with him and set his fabrics down, peering over the mess to look at you. You shifted from side to side and stayed behind Sukuna, as if doing so would hide you from Aoki-kun’s scrutiny. 

After a moment, Aoki-kun broke out in a wide smile, showing a set of gleaming teeth with pointed canines and a hint of a forked tongue. “What a lovely bride, Ryomen-sama! I see you have once again married a very beautiful woman. But you usually come later to pay after your lady has ordered her wardrobe. Why’d you come with your bride this time?” 

Lovely? Does he have bad eyesight? It was a pity since he was so handsome but…something he said bothered you. It was an obvious fact that Sukuna had had other women in his life – you knew this very clearly, but why did that thought make your chest feel tight as if a snake had wrapped itself around the organ and was slowly squeezing the life out of it.

“I felt like it.” Sukuna gave him a droll stare. 

Aoki-kun merely smiled back, unfazed by Sukuna’s response. He clapped his hands. “Well, yes, shall we get her measurements and have the lady choose what styles and fabrics she’d like for her wardrobe?” 

“Give her whatever she wants,” he said. “Cost is not an issue.” 

But you did not want him to spend too much on you. What would happen when he’d realized he’d gotten the short end of the stick – that he married a human with no cursed ability? He would despise you and loathe that he spent so much time and money on you. 

You couldn’t allow that to happen. “Oh no, I couldn’t. Just a few simple pieces will do, I don’t need anything too fancy.” 

“Nonsense,” Sukuna declared. “Choose whatever you want.” 

“If you insist…” He wasn’t going to change his mind, so you decided that you would choose a few of the cheaper fabrics and designs. 

Aoki-kun ushered you to the back while Sukuna stared daggers at the demon. “Aoki-kun,” he said lowly, voice pitched with a warning, “Watch yourself.” 

“Of course.” He winked one slitted jade green eye. “I will be on my best behavior, Ryomen-sama.” And he would – the Aoki family would not dare offend Sukuna and lose the patronage of someone so ancient and powerful.

As Aoki-kun readied his materials to take your measurements and fit you for a wardrobe, you couldn’t help but take little glances at the tailor, curious about his demon heritage. You’d heard that the Aoki family were incredibly talented cursed technique users, but not that they had demon blood in them as well.

Aoki-kun gave you a cheeky grin when he caught your gaze, making you look away quickly in shame. “Ah, I know what you are thinking, my lady – you wonder about my demon traits?” 

You gave him a small nod despite the fact that you were embarrassed that he’d caught you staring. 

“Not to worry,” he said nonchalantly. “Many people are always surprised when they meet someone from our family and find out we have demon traits. We’ve got wickedly sharp fangs.” He sheathed them to give you a closer look. “And forked tongues.” A quick slither of the muscle tipped the seams of his lips to show that he did indeed have a forked tongue. 

“Interesting,” you murmured. Those types of oddities have never scared you since you considered yourself to be a sort of oddity as well. 

Aoki-kun chuckled. “I don’t get that reaction often. Most people are afraid since not many people are fond of snakes, you see.” 

“Oh, I’m quite fond of them,” you said quickly, not wanting him to misunderstand or get upset. “I actually used to have a tiny pet mamushi snake. He was the cutest thing, very shy, poisonous, but he never bit me.” You looked wistfully off to the side. “But he just disappeared one day, and I never saw him again.” 

“Did he have a name?” 

“No.” Sadness crept into your tone now. “I never named any of the strays I took in, since I knew that once they had a name, I’d get too attached. And they’d all eventually leave, like the snake…so I didn’t see a point in naming him.” 

“Ah,” Aoki-kun paused. “I see.” He swallowed hard then cleared his throat, leading you to a large mirror. “Shall we move on to happier topics and get your measurements now? I don’t want to keep Ryomen-sama waiting for too long. He might have my head if I delay your return to him.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed–” You’d never forgive yourself if something bad happened to an innocent because of you. “I’m terribly sorry, Aoki-sama. I’ll do as you say.” 

Now I’ve done it – I’ve soured the mood and made him uncomfortable. What a stupid thing to do on the first day my husband takes me out. He may never let me out again if he knows I made someone as important as Aoki-kun uncomfortable or held up his plans for the day. Next time, I’ll keep my mouth shut. 

“My lady?” 

You snapped your head up. “Yes!” you squeaked.

Aoki-kun smiled. “I need you to lift up your arms please.” 

“Of course.” You did as he instructed and thought about how you’d have to get rid of your bad habit of daydreaming while Aoki-kun carefully laid the measuring tape against your arms. Ryomen-sama certainly wouldn’t want to be with someone as absentminded as you, you’d have to change quickly if you wanted him to keep you. 

After Aoki-kun took your measurements – there were a lot more measurements than you thought you needed for a kimono fitting – Sukuna decided to stop by at a new western style cafe. While you were positive that he would’ve preferred to visit the traditional tea house across the street (the fact that he still wore kimonos instead of western suits was an indicator of his traditional preferences, for some reason he had chosen the cafe instead.  

(What you did not know was that earlier in the day, Sukuna had seen you eye the cafe. So of course he wanted to take you to a place you were interested in.) 

When the owner of the establishment saw Sukuna at the entrance, he scrambled to pay his respects to him while  Sukuna had simply taken one cursory glance at him, as if he was looking at a speck of dust and not a person. And almost as if he could read Sukuna’s mind, the owner led the two of you to a table in the back without a second of delay.

You sat down in the booth with as much grace as you could conjure and tried to contain the almost giddy feeling you had. The softness of the booth was infinitely more comfortable than any cushion you’ve ever sat on and the table had a pretty lacquered floral design that you itched to trace with your fingers. If Sukuna noticed your nervous excitement, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he sat looking bored, an imposing statue of savage beauty all contained in a tiny, floral-decorated booth. 

You almost let out a laugh that you managed to stifle into a wide smile at the last moment. 

“What are you smiling about, wife?” 

You shook your head. What would he think if you told him he looked out of place? Like a big, bad, demon in a dainty little china shop. 

Sukuna smirked. “It’s fine if you don’t tell me, but I’ll just have to punish you very thoroughly tonight.” 

You turned beet red at his comment. You’d only known him for a day, but you were very well acquainted with his appetite and could guess what type of punishment – delicious torment – he had in mind for you.

You smiled, but when you looked down at the menu a server had placed on the table, you felt a deep sense of dread. Since your mother died the year you were supposed to formally attend reading and writing classes, you never got the chance to learn how to read and write because no one advocated for your education. You knew much less than some of the higher-ranking literate servants in the Shirogane residence and only recognized basic words required of your daily tasks.

Now your initial blush was turning uncomfortably warm — hot and unwelcome — and your grip tightened on the menu as the words swarmed before you, a jumble of lettered nonsense. You tried to make sense of it, picking out a few words here and there, but the meanings were ultimately lost on you, and you realized you didn’t recognize a single thing on the menu besides ‘tea’ (and even then, you didn’t recognize any of the teas) because the dishes and drinks served here were western-styled, something you were wholly unfamiliar with.

“Is there nothing you’d like to order, wife?” 

“U-Um, no– I mean  yes, I–” You were struggling to answer him so you looked up from the menu to meet his gaze which only made you more intimidated by his question and worried about what he’d think of you.

“I…” It would probably be easiest for him to order for you then. It’d make you look like a good wife, to allow your husband to make decisions for you so no one would think it strange. And hopefully he wouldn’t realize that you couldn’t read the menu. “Y-You can order for me! I can’t decide.” You plastered on what you hoped looked like a demure smile. “I’m sure you have excellent tastes.” 

Sukuna frowned. He’d decided to take you here since he saw you show interest in the cafe and heard that lots of young ladies liked places like this, but perhaps you liked traditional Japanese tea houses after all. And he’d much prefer going to one as well. Then perhaps the two of you would take a light lunch in the tea house instead. “Perhaps we should go to the tea house across the street–”

“No!” you blurted out, flustered by his proposition. It would be terrible if he changed his mind just because you were incompetent and couldn’t read. You lowered your voice slightly. “No,” you said again. “We can stay here. I’d prefer if you’d order for me though.” 

How strange, Sukuna thought, but he nodded. “Very well, if you insist.” 

You let out an internal sigh of relief when he began to order, listing foreign teas and cakes and light sandwiches to the server in a surprisingly efficient manner as if he did it all the time. And all the while he listed off the name of a flowery-sounding item, you clenched your fists harder underneath the table, staring very hard at the pretty designs that, just a few moments ago, brought you joy, but now were a harsh reminder of your shortcomings. 

When he finished ordering, the two of you sat in silence while waiting for the food. You were used to it – being quiet always drew less attention and that was always a good thing when you lived in the Shirogane residence. If you blended in and stayed in the background, there was always less of a chance that your cousin and others would harass you. 

But was Sukuna okay with it? Surely he’d want a wife who he could keep a conversation with – someone educated and well-versed in a variety of topics. Not someone gloomy who didn’t know how to socialize. You peeked up to see him tapping a black fingernails – was it your imagination or were they shorter than they were yesterday – rhythmically moving up and down against the table.

Perhaps he was irritated that you didn’t order for yourself. You tried to keep your expression neutral. Of course, he would be angry that his wife was an uneducated idiot who didn’t even know how to read. 

I should apologize to him now before he– 

“Fancy seeing you here, cousin.” 

You froze. For some reason, you heard a certain voice that you thought you had escaped when you left the Shirogane residence. You kept your eyes plastered to the table, fingernails digging into your bony palms. 

“What’s wrong, cousin? Are you not happy to see me? Did moving out and becoming someone else’s property make you not want to acknowledge me anymore?” 

“I–” 

Sukuna was frowning now, and you could tell he was upset because his eyes were turning a deep red. 

“I…” You scrambled to say something so Sukuna wouldn’t get angry at you, but you could feel your throat closing up on you. Once, a long time ago, you might’ve said something back to your cousin, made her furious enough to hit you, but not anymore. Not after that happened. 

Hikaru ignored you. “But how strange,” she said, mock surprise coloring her face, “I never thought I’d see you in a place like this.” 

Please, please, please. Anything but that. You stared at her, desperation etched into every fissure of your body, but when you saw her smile – the one that everyone adored so much but you dreaded – you knew that she was going to reveal your secret. 

Hikaru placed a slender hand on your shoulder and if any onlooker saw, it would look like an affectionate gesture, but the pressure of those talons that were sinking into your shoulder was unmistakable.

She had you caught like a bird with its prey. 

“It’s strange seeing you here since you don’t know how to read. How could you have ordered from the menu? You should’ve just had a servant order and pick up the food and deliver it to you if you really wanted to try something here.” 

You don’t know how to read.

You don’t know how to read.

You don’t know how to read.

Of course, Hikaru would take the chance to belittle you and make you look bad in front of Ryomen-sama. Her comment only fed that feeling of inferiority that gnawed at your insides and threatened to swallow you whole after it had minced every fiber of your being. The hopeless, savage, desire to be enough – that maybe if you tried hard enough, people would overlook your incompetency, maybe tolerate you, and you wouldn’t have to feel like an imposter. But you knew that nothing would be able to save you from the embarrassment of your illiteracy and the ire of your husband upon the realization that he’d married a fool.

Your throat was scratchy when you spoke, and you tried to even the waver in your voice as much as you could. “Ah, Hikaru, I–”

“What do you mean,” Sukuna interrupted smoothly. “My wife can read.” And at this, he tucked his legs around yours, pressing gently but firmly around your calves as if to stop your trembling legs. “Why would you say otherwise?” 

What…? He should be cursing me right now. Why is he defending me instead?

Hikaru spluttered her response. “B-But I know her – I know that she doesn’t know how to read.”

“You presume to know my wife better than I do?” he asked dangerously. 

Sukuna was angry now, you could see it in his eyes and hear it in the coldness of his tone. Right now, you were glad his anger was directed towards Hikaru and not you – you didn’t think you’d be able to handle it right now if he got angry at you. Yelled at you. Hit you. Especially if he did it in front of Hikaru. 

Indignant, Hikaru stomped a heeled foot into the ground. The loud clack drew the attention of nearby tables and servers and made you instinctually shirk back. When Hikaru got angry, she could be impulsive and very cruel. “Of course I do! I’ve known her for fifteen years while you’ve only known her for a day and barely at that–” 

You stood up suddenly. The argument was making you uncomfortable and when a plate of seasoned meat passed your table, your stomach churned, making you feel as if you’d vomit any moment. Sukuna and Hikaru both looked at you. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled shakily. “I have to go use the restroom. I don’t feel too good.” 

Sukuna got up as well. 

“Then I will come with you,” he replied. It was the obvious decision. 

But you waved him off. “No, no need, just stay here. I’ll only be a moment.” You ran towards the back of the restaurant in haste, flagging down a server to ask where the restrooms were before you escaped.

Sukuna stared intently at the spot you just left as if doing so would somehow bring you back and erase the annoying presence of your cousin. He inhaled deeply, hating that your scent – you always smelled like the jasmine rice soap you used and your natural musk scent (which Sukuna liked even better) – was now covered by the cloying sweet smell of Hikaru’s perfume. He didn’t want to be apart from you, especially if you were feeling sick, and he had no need to keep your cousin company. 

“I shall take my leave now,” he intoned.

“Oh, but,” Hikaru tried placing a lacquered hand on his forearm, but Sukuna jerked back in disgust, the hairs on his arm standing up. Hikaru looked appalled. “You can’t just leave me here.” 

It was taking Sukuna every ounce of self-control (of which he had little of since he always did what he wanted, no matter the consequences) to stop himself from doing something disrespectful, or heaven forbid, “unethical” in the eyes of society – like slapping the hell out of Hikaru – but he knew you would not appreciate it if he did that. So he presented himself as pleasant as he could. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Shirogane-san, I really must take my leave now. My wife may be ill, so I will go and make sure she gets home safely and sees a doctor if needed.” 

But Hikaru couldn’t let such a handsome specimen – cursed spirit or not – out of her grasp. To think that you, a lowly wench, so talentless and useless, was able to marry such a man of high status and beauty…that fact angered her. 

She should’ve been the one to marry Ryomen-sama, to stand next to him venerated, prized, alongside him by everyone. So why did Father choose you instead of her? Hikaru huffed. She didn’t believe that anyone could be immune to her charms. She always got what and who she wanted. 

“Are you really just going to leave me alone?” She pitched her voice slightly higher as if she was ready to burst into tears and jutted a pink lower lip out in a pout. 

Sukuna’s expression turned dark. “I am not leaving you alone, Shirogane-san, your servant is sitting right next to you.” Hikaru’s servant seemed to shrink in her very spot. “And I am leaving for good reason: to tend to my wife.”

But Hikaru, used to getting what she wanted and spoiled by her father, could not let go of the topic. “Why’re you leaving me for such a dull, useless person? And besides, I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s always been such a picky eater, not eating any of the leftovers we give her, so I’m not sure what the issue–” 

A loud thud suddenly resounded through the restaurant and the table cracked in half as glasses shattered to the ground, tea and water leaking into the cracks of the tiled flooring. Sukuna found much satisfaction in the way the liquids found its way onto Hikaru’s frilly Western contraption of a dress, relishing in how the tea soaked and stained her light-colored garments. 

“You,” he growled, warning interlaced like fine poison in his voice. “Never speak of my wife like that ever again.”

“But–”

“You will never again utter her name with that grating voice of yours. Her name is for my lips alone to say. Good day.” 

Sukuna flung Hikaru a mutinous glance before making his way straight to the women’s restroom before he smacked the living daylights out of your cousin. He knew he wasn’t saintly enough to stop himself, but he knew you wouldn’t want him to do it so had to make do with the table. He followed your scent to the very last stall in the restroom and ripped the door off its hinges, earning a scream from you. 

“S-Sukuna, what are you doing?” You were hunched over the toilet bowl, tendrils of hair hanging above the water like floating seaweed, your kimono messy and askew. Sukuna hated that you were dirtying yourself on the ground but at the same time, for some sort of explicable reason, seeing you so disheveled made him feel a certain way. He inhaled deeply, breathing in your sweet scent to ground himself. You’d only been in his life for a few days, but he couldn’t imagine going without your scent for more than a few hours now.

“I hate your cousin,” he said simply.  

You reached up to try to pat him. “I am not worthy of your emotions, not even your ire, so please do not be angry for me. And besides, I am quite used to it by now.” 

But hearing that only made him angrier. He was angry that you had suffered so much, gotten used to the pain, that you thought that any sort of emotion spent on you was unworthy. 

“How can I show you how much I love you?” he whispered hotly. “Apparently you don’t know the extent that I would go for you.” He dragged you up and against his body, his hard length pulsing against your stomach, a hot brand you felt through your cotton layers. 

“W-What are you doing?” You couldn’t tell if you were aroused or panicked. Maybe both. 

“Shall we go see a doctor since you’re not feeling well?” What he really wanted was to hold you down and fuck the tears out of you – or perhaps elicit more tears of a different variety – but you being sick took precedence. He could control himself, probably.

“I-I’m fine, just some indigestion,” you mumbled, face half-pressed against his chest. “Let’s just go back to the shrine, please.” 

Sukuna groaned, you were truly going to be the death of him. “Then let us go.” 

His grip on you tightened – as if it wasn’t already tight enough – making you acutely aware of every inch of his body. You fought to keep yourself still, but his cock was hard and stiff against your stomach. 

“Stop moving,” he breathed. “We’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Instantly, the two of you were back at the shrine. You blinked. Sukuna had teleported to the side courtyard you fancied. It was one of the few places with flowers growing everywhere, so you had looked longingly at it multiple times in the past few days since you’d arrived.  

You tried to move away from Sukuna since you’d left for the city for quite some time, and you hadn’t even started making dinner yet, but Sukuna held you closely. “Where are you going, wife?” he murmured. 

“I need to go prepare dinner. I think Momoka must already have lunch prepared just in case we came home earlier so you can go have that since we didn’t get to eat anything at the restaurant while I start on dinner.” 

“But I don’t want lunch or dinner,” he said lazily, fingertips working themselves against your waist, a massage that made you feel boneless and relaxed. Sukuna smiled when he noticed that you’d unconsciously started to lean in towards him. His plan to distract you was working. “I want dessert first.”

Still, you tried to protest. “It’s not healthy though. You should eat something nutritious at least–” you wiggled against him in an effort to escape, “–before eating dessert.” 

He ignored you though and pressed his nose against the crown of your hair to inhale deeply before he started to make his way down, licking against the shell of your ear. He smiled against you when he felt you shiver. “Hm, you’re right. There’s something very nutritious right before me, so I should eat it then, should I not?” 

You couldn’t help the moan that slipped from you. “Not…” Sukuna continued to plant sloppy kisses against your ear, suckling the soft shell, making you lose your train of thought. “N-Not…” He moved lower and sucked hard in the soft juncture between your throat and your collarbone where the last mark he’d left had yet to fade. You cried out from the sudden throb. 

“My wife is so noisy,” Sukuna chuckled, continuing his way down and across your body while slowly tugging your kimono off your body. The way the rough fabric rubbed against your sensitized skin made you jolt with a small squeak especially when his hands purposefully lingered  around your hips. 

“What would happen if other people hear the lovely sounds you’re making? We can’t have that happen, can we?” So you must be quiet.” He planted another kiss, this time closer to your breast, sucking at the soft flesh. The way he tugged at your chest tugged something else lower and when he took one nipple between his teeth, rolled it as gently as he could – there’s teeth, always teeth – you could feel slick gathering in your panties. It would be so embarrassing if he looked down or reached inside to feel a pool of moisture. 

“Can you keep quiet for me, my little sparrow?”

“Not here, please,” you mewled. “E-Everyone will hear me. They’ll hear us.”

Sukuna nodded in mock sympathy, grin growing wider. “Yes, my dear, so that means you’ll just have to try harder.” 

“But it would be unsightly.”

Sukuna stared unflinchingly at your face – your soft face – and wondered how anyone could think it unsightly. “Nonsense. If anyone sees us, they will simply see a husband pleasing his wife and think nothing else of it.”

Ah, there it was again. Those words that he’d say to make you feel like you were worth something more than you really were. False words, probably something he had said to all his previous wives to please them, but you stupidly liked it. Liked how it sounded – the illusion that someone could like you enough to do something to please you. 

Sukuna tapped your lips with two fingers. “You are far away from me now. Thinking too much again.”

“I’m sorry.” It was a knee-jerk response. And then, realizing the mistake you’d made: “I’m sorry…for saying I’m sorry.” 

He looked down at you through thick lashes, red eyes peering intently at you. It made you uncomfortable, but you’d made a mistake so his scrutiny was justified.

“Open.” He pressed his fingers against your lips again, slowly feeding the digits through the soft seam of your mouth. 

You were hesitant at first, your mouth was just barely open, but when Sukuna began to massage your tongue, slipping his fingers inside the grab the flesh, petting against the roof of your mouth, you couldn’t help but relax your jaw to let him in deeper. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, and those two words were almost enough to make you forget about the fact that anyone could pass by and see the two of you. 

So when Sukuna pulled the front of your kimono completely away, putting your body – all marked with bites and hickeys – you squirmed, hands covering whatever it can, shying away from his hungry eyes. But Sukuna wanted his desert. He caught your wrist in his hand and pinned them up so he can have full access to you, leaving wet kisses against your tummy, your inner thighs, and finally against your underwear. You’re so wet that it’s hard to tell if your panties are wet from his kisses or from yourself.

“Wife,” he drawled, and at this point, you’re not too sure if you’ll be able to keep quiet any longer if he continues like this. “Hush now, you’re getting louder. Everyone will be able to hear you if you continue like this.” 

Sukuna peered down at you and the sight of your teary eyes instantly has his cock hardening. 

You are most beautiful when you are beneath me, writhing in sweet pleasure I have given you, completely at my mercy. 

Sukuna knew there was no ecstasy greater than the one he found with you so he didn't wait to nudge his cock against your panties and press the fat tip against your wetness. Then suddenly, he pulled your panties to the side to accommodate for himself before he sheathed himself in one motion, the sudden intrusion making your eyes fly open in surprise. You could feel the stretch of his cock, each veiny inch against your walls and the thick tip that pressed against your cervix. It was almost painful, too painful, but Sukuna knew just how much pressure to put – just enough so that there was a delicious weight that soothed the ache.

“S-Sukuna,” you panted while shaking your head. “Too big.” 

He chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips. “Ah, but you took me so well last night without any issue. So you can do it now as well, can’t you?” 

“I–” You fought to form a coherent reply as he started to rock against you. “It–” 

“You’ll be a good girl for me, right? Take my cock deep inside you, squeeze me real tight, and make me cum, won’t you?” he cooed. “And if you do especially well,” he rasped against slow thrusts, “I’ll make sure to cum inside and paint your insides white.” Sukuna would do it regardless, but he knew that you’d get riled up if he said it out loud. 

And true to his beliefs, you clenched hard around his cock, earning a harsh moan and knowing smile from him. 

“See?” He reached down to finger your clit and spread your folds, watching how your puffy lips struggled to swallow each stroke of his cock, how it fluttered unceasingly against him. “You’re taking me so well right now. I knew you could do it.” 

You whimpered even as pleasure bloomed inside. It was embarrassing, knowing that you were in a place that any of the servants could see. All it’d take was one sound – one sound a bit too loud, a bit too out of place in this serene courtyard, and you were sure that a servant would come running to check on the sound only to find the two of you fucking outside. 

How embarrassing that would be and yet you were even more embarrassed that that turned you on. Even if just a little. 

“Your thoughts are elsewhere,” Sukuna grunted, thrusting hard into you. “What could you be thinking about while your husband is fucking you?”

“N-Nothing.” you managed. 

Sukuna continued to slap his hips against yours, dragging his heavy cock through your slick folds. It was an acutely hard reminder of the fact that someone could be watching you, and when Sukuna grabbed the crown of your head in a rough jerk, the tug against your scalp made you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure and you could feel a sudden flow of wetness below.

“Are you paying attention to me now, wife?” Sukuna whispered lowly. 

You nodded tearfully at him, lips trying to form a coherent reply. “Y-Yes, ‘m pay attention to you.” 

He pulled a tiny bit tighter, your cunt clenching as if he pulled a string in your body, earning a harsh grunt from him against your sensitive ear that made you ache. He pulled just enough to squeeze a few more tears out of you, not too hard, but you deserved it, those tears of yours since you weren’t paying attention to him. 

Despite the pain, you could feel a familiar heated sensation that coiled deep inside your tummy, made your breath short and eyes blurry with need. You whined even as you locked your ankles behind the small of his back, digging your heels into him as if to get him to thrust even deeper inside of you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Sukuna groaned against your tight cunt. “Y-You’re so tight, fuck.”

“S-S-Sukuna, please,” you blubbered. “Please. I–”

He pulled out right before you cummed and moved up to hold his cock against your face, the thick length so hard, so red that it looked as if he’d burst any moment. And he would – he wanted to, but Sukuna wanted to punish you. He knew it wasn’t your fault, but he was angry that you were so helpless against your cousin, that you’d spent your entire life being abused. Perhaps he was angry at himself, for not meeting you earlier and saving you from the pain. 

“W-What?” You cried out. “Why did you stop, I-I-I– need it. Please.” 

With your glossy eyes, swollen lips, and wet cunt that clenched unceasingly around the air, you were a needy vision to behold. So if you needed it, he’d be all too happy to oblige in giving it to you – twice. 

“Open.”

Your lips open gingerly, unsure of what he wanted.

“Wider, love. My cock is much bigger than that.” 

You flushed. You’d heard from servants about that act, where a woman or man would take a cock into their mouth and suck and kiss until the man cummed, but you’d never done it before yourself. It was supposed to be highly pleasurable for the man, but you weren’t sure if you’d be able to do it properly.

But Sukuna was waiting and looking at you with such heavy desire that you wanted to please him, so you obeyed, and opened your mouth – wide – and waited for him to slip his hard length into your mouth. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as he slid his cock inside your mouth, a slippery ordeal with the precum that leaked from his tip and the drool from your lips. “Taking my cock,” he grunted halfway through. “So well.” 

You thought that that was it, but when he pushed the last few inches in, so deep that it hit the back of your throat, you gagged hard, suddenly pushing him out of your mouth. 

“Hmm, it might take some getting used to,” Sukuna murmured. “You have to relax your throat and breath through your nose, otherwise you’ll suffocate. And we can’t have that happening, can we?”

You nodded and tried to relax yourself as he fed his cock into your throat again. The slow pace was making you squirm, and you could feel the moisture leaking from your pussy. You wondered how Sukuna could hold out for so long. 

When Sukuna finally seated himself between your lips, he began to thrust – slowly at first before picking up the pace, holding the back of your head gently to guide and support you. It was weird at first – you always thought that a man’s cock was supposed to go inside a pussy – but Sukuna apparently had other ideas. 

Your mouth was getting tired though, so you closed it slightly, your teeth accidentally grazing his cock. 

“Ah– love, fuck!” Sukuna grunted. “Close, I’m close.” 

Ah, so he liked the teeth, you thought. You could give it to him despite your fatigue. 

So you raked your teeth lightly against his hard length as he thrusted in and out, enjoying the fact that his thrusts were growing sloppy, short, and fast. Sukuna could feel his balls tighten up and when he looked down at you, his angel with her doe eyes and swollen lips, he cummed, shooting hot white liquid inside your mouth before pulling out and watching the lewd site of the string of cum that connected his cock to your mouth. 

Your eyes fluttered in surprise at the sudden wash of hotness in your mouth and you weren’t sure what to do with it, so you just swallowed it all. It didn’t have any particular taste – just a musky taste that smelled wholly of Sukuna, so in a way, it was quite pleasant. It reminded you of him.

“Did you swallow it?” Sukuna said huskily. “You didn’t have to.” He had thought of you swallowing it, wanted to fill you up above and below, but he wasn’t in a rush – you could learn everything in due time.

You nodded. “Did I…do something wrong?”

He laughed once. Then twice. “No, my wife, not at all. You did well. So well in fact,” he kissed your sticky lips. “That I’ll give you your reward now if you’d like.” 

Your reward. The slickness in your pussy still hadn’t subsided – if anything, you were even wetter than before, and you were acutely aware of the fact that your hole was clenching against nothing. Aching to be filled. 

“Please.”

“Please, what?” Sukuna knew what you needed, to be filled to the brim and fucked, but he wanted to hear the words come from your pretty lips.

“Please…” You hesitated, would he be turned off if such dirty words came from your mouth?

But Sukuna looked at you with such sensual expectance that you couldn’t help but answer him.

“Please…f-fuck me.” 

He smiled devilishly and wrapped one large hand around your hips. “Fuck you where, love?”

Damn the man. He knew exactly what you wanted – what you needed – but he still wanted you to say it.

“I won’t do anything you don’t tell me to do, wife, so tell me, where do you want me to fuck you?” He moved his other hand below your waist to circle your wet folds. “Here?” he asked. “Or…here?” He moved his fingers to rim the seam of your ass. 

You jumped at the foreign feeling. “N-Not there. That’s not…clean.” 

“Every part of you is clean, able to be fucked, love, but if you don’t want it there, we can do it another time.” Sukuna would thoroughly enjoy teaching you how to take his cock in your ass. He had no doubt that your ass would feel just as good as your cunt.

“So tell me where you want it and I’ll make sure to fuck you really well at that spot.”

Heat rose in your cheeks, but it was getting too difficult to ignore the ache in your pussy. 

“Fuck me in my…p-pussy,” you whispered before hiding your face against his chest.

“There it is,” Sukuna drawled. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it, my wife?” 

“Just do it, please, I need–”

In one fluid motion, Sukuna slid inside you, his hard length finding itself home inside your wet folds. 

“A-Ah Sukuna!” You mewled. “Too much, ‘m too big!”

Sukuna knew that, but he also knew that you’d taken him so well earlier so you shouldn’t have a problem doing it now either. “I know, love, you’re just really tight,” he grunted. “Relax for me. Relax and spread your legs a bit wider. It’ll make it easier.” 

You spread yourself and tried to relax as he dragged his cock against your rippling folds, but you were too sensitive from earlier and needed the release you weren’t given, so when he thrusted particularly deep and the tip of his cock nudged itself against a spongy part of your walls, you cummed so hard you bit his shoulder to stop the wail that would’ve come out of you. 

“Fuck, love, not so–” Sukuna felt his orgasm come as the pain from his shoulder tided over all self-control he had. “So tight, ah, fuck!” He slammed his hips against yours, his hard cock relentless against your rippling cunt as he fucked you through your high and his. 

“Ah, Sukuna, ‘m so sensitive, please I–”

“A little more, wife, j-just need to get it out of my system, fuck you,” he groaned, “through this, it’ll feel better, I know it.” 

“But–” You could feel something building inside again, but it was weird, a sensation you hadn’t felt before. “Sukuna, s-stop, ‘m gonna, gonna pee! Stop!” 

“I know, love, I know, it’ll feel good. It’ll feel really good, just let go for me,” he whispered. “Let go for me.”

“I–”

“Shh, let go. Give it to me.” He thrusted against your g-spot again and when he felt your cunt flutter against him, feel the sloppy wetness that dripped from it, he reached down and pinched your clit, hard, making you spill messily all over his cock and his abs. 

When you realized what had happened, you were overcome with shame. “I-I’m sorry, Sukuna..I-I told you that I was gonna pee, that it was coming out and–”

Sukuna caught your lips in his and slipped his tongue inside in reassurance. 

“You did well,” he murmured against your lips. 

You frowned. “How, I just peed–”

“It’s not peeing, love,” he chuckled and then pulled out of your sticky cunt with a wet plop, intently watching the way your cunt pushed his semen out. One of these days, he’d make you hold his cum inside your cunt and keep it in there for a few days to make sure you were properly bred. Maybe he’d keep you longer than a year. “You just squirted for me, and I very much enjoyed it, thank you.” 

“I-It’s a good thing?” you ventured. 

“A very good thing,” he replied before covering you in your dirtied kimono and picking you up, princess-style. 

“You’re sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.” 

If Sukuna said it was a good thing, then perhaps it was. 

“Would you like a bath, wife?” Sukuna was already walking towards the bath room and was sure that a hot bath would be ready for him and you when he got there. He wouldn’t tell you this since you’d be embarrassed beyond belief and never have sex with him in the courtyard, but he’d caught Momoka walking by sometime while fucking you, and Momoka was a smart human. She knew that they’d want a bath afterwards, so Sukuna was sure she’d have one prepared. 

And he wasn’t wrong. When he walked inside the bath room, a hot bath had already been drawn and filled, clean clothes laid down and a scented bag with flowers scattered in the bath. 

“How is there already a bath ready for us?” you wondered. 

Sukuna kissed your forehead and unwrapped you from your kimono bundle before stripping himself and carrying you again to place you inside the bath. 

“I had Momoka prepare one for us to use after we got back from town.”

You reddened, eyes darting back and forth. “Then…she saw us?” 

Sukuna thought about teasing you, but then decided against it. You’d had enough teasing for the day, he decided. “No, of course not,” he lied. “I gave Momoka a time that we’d be back, so she could prepare it ahead of time.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “That makes sense.” 

Sukuna smiled and patted your head. His little gullible wife. How easily she believes every word I say. He put you into the bath and climbed in after you, grabbing a nearby bar of soap and mixing it with some water to create suds.

“Yes, now let’s wash up…unless you’d prefer going another round?” Sukuna lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “I’m always up for another round, love.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I’m still too sensitive…”

“Then of course,” Sukuna chuckled. “Another time. Tonight then.”

“Tonight?”  You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep up.

“Why not?”

When you saw you frown, he added, “You wouldn’t have to do anything, love. I’d be doing all the work.” 

“W-When you put it like that…” you mumbled.

Sukuna continued to soap your back, enjoying your figure from behind. Perhaps he would take you from the back tonight and maybe even introduce your ass to his fingers, if not his cock.

“Tonight is for tonight, love. Just focus on right now. Don’t think too much.” 

“Okay.”

And even though it was difficult to erase your worries – both related and unrelated to Sukuna – the methodical feeling and sounds of the water and soap relaxed you.

Sometime during the bath, you fell asleep and Sukuna must’ve carried you to your room because when you woke up, he was lying naked next to you, a sly smile on his face.

From Wikipedia: Gloydius blomhoffii, commonly known as the mamushi, Japanese moccasin, Japanese pit viper, Qichun snake, Salmusa or Japanese mamushi, is a venomous pit viper species found in Japan.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Eddie x Plus size/ Hispanic reader

I have this idea floating around. Kind of unrequited love type thing. We shall see. ⚠️Please if you are sensitive about any of my warnings. Please please don't read this. It's very sad and hurtful. So please proceed with caution. No minors please. Most of this is coming from personal experiences. So hopefully it doesn't bother anyone too bad. Sorry in advance.⚠️

⚠️⚠️: 18+ mentions of sexual abuse of a child, child abuse, self harm, cursing, smoking, drinking, arguing, heartache, mentions of sex. Not proof read and no word count.⚠️⚠️

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

Inspired by Starset - My demons

Part 1

Summary: you overhear a conversation and walk into something that you could never forget. You have feelings for Eddie Munson. But he doesn't even know you exist.

(Kinda how Joe Quinn is out there in the world not knowing you love him and he doesn't even know you exist.) Yeah I was kinda down at the thought. It's kida pathetic I know. Didn't know you could fall for someone when you haven't even met. Welp I guess Im gonna hurt my feelings today.

💔😮‍💨

Life was always difficult growing up in Hawkins. Your mother was a single mom raising 5 kids. 2 sisters who were older and 2 brothers that were younger. Your mom put herself thru college and worked so much she was hardly there. Being that your sisters were older they stayed with their father mostly. All of you had different absentee fathers.

While you stood back help raising one of your brothers. For the most part you were alone. Taking care of yourself at 10 years old. Your father left before you were born. Your mother dated of course. For some reason she always picked up low life's that hit her or did drugs. One time her and her husband of like 2 months was fighting with her. When you went to the room he was on top of her choking her. You were 12 and your little brother was 4. You watched in horror as your little brother jumped on the bastards back and being flung off hitting the door across the room. You grabbed whatever you could and pull that son of bitches hair and started hitting him in the back. Screaming for him to get off of her. You didn't remember how the fight ended but you did remember the trauma that asshole left in his wake. He would do things in a sexual nature towards you. One night he went to the bathroom that was the only one in the small 2 bedroom house. He had to go thru your room to go there. You were laying in your bunk bed reading when he opened the door. You saw him in only some tight Leapard print underwear. He had a sinister grin twirling around so that you could see him. You scoffed not knowing what he was trying to do. And turned around so you didn't have to face him. He stood in the bathroom for a few minutes before leaving. You figured he was getting dressed. Not even 5 minutes later you heard your mom in a laughing fit.

One night you were asleep and you woke up to the sounds of grunting. You looked up with with your hand around his shaft. Your recoiled and he quickly got dressed and left. You didn't know what he was until you got older. The next time anything happened you wanted to go swimming And he was on the pool keeping you from going in. He said if you wanted to come in you had to do something. He had you touch his privates. And after he was finished he warned you not to tell. Or he would hurt your mom. He kept doing things like that for a few months giving you money afterwards. That's when you started to get fat. You remember when your sister made fun of how big your thighs were getting. You didn't know you were depressed. That's when your mom had another baby. His. You loved your little brother. Any time that shit stain would get close to him you would become upset. It was one day everything changed. You were in the kitchen finding something to eat when your mom and him came in and were arguing about something. When your older sister came in to try and stop them. But now things got physical. He was pulling your mom's hair. And your mom was hitting him. Your sister pushed you to the side and was kneeing him in the face. That's when your uncle came in and broke up the fight. You heard your mom arguing with your sister about it. This all seemed so normal for you. But I wasn't. The last time he had you touch him you cried and he stopped. The next day you were done. You sat in the living room at 13 years old. Your other sister was there for the weekend. And she was watching a movie. You started to cry and she asked what was up. If that your boyfriend broke up with you or something. But you didn't have one. So you told her what was going on with him. She was furious. She went to your mom to tell her. And your mom didn't even questioned you. They left for a while and your older sister sat there trying to get you to tell her everything. But you couldn't. You did say that he never touched you down there. He just wanted you to touch him. She told you about one time he made a sexual gesture towards her and your other sister a while back. But they thought it was a joke. That's why they didn't come over so much.

That's when your mom and sister came back dragging him instead. He was bruised and bloody. He was saying that you were lying. That's when you went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Tears running down your face as you held it towards him. You begged for him to tell them the truth when one of your sisters grabbed the knife and pulled you outside. You guys walked for a while and when you return the cops had taken him. After that you never saw him again. You guys moved to a new house freed from all the bad memories. But your relationship with your mother was strained. Constant physical altercations and arguing. It got so bad that you ran away multiple times. Your mother didn't believe you when that happened. But out of the sake of her other children she had too. She has been alone ever since. So with no help to raise the kids she left that up to you. She works multiple jobs. Mostly night shifts. She hit you a lot over small things growing up. And you never cried. Which made her hit you more and more using whatever she could grab. Finally in 8th grade you started to smoke and drink. Buying weed from Eddie Munson. You never said anything more than how much you needed and a goodbye. He never noticed you. As you got older you started to have feelings for him. But he didn't even know you exist other than that you were a regular customer. In highschool you attended parties that he would be at getting shit face as much as possible. You would see him flirting with girls and taking them upstairs. He was so handsome so nice but he was a horny teenager.

It was one night you overhead him talking to Chrissy Cunningham by the front door. You leaned against the wall around the corner. He was putting on his charm. He was trying to get with her. And from the sounds of her giggles it was working. You sunk to the floor when you heard them leave together. You wished you were brave enough to tell him you liked him.

Finally getting the courage one day out in the woods where you normally bought from Eddie. He was smiling while opening his metal lunch box. And handed you a baggie with 3 rolled up joints.

" can I tell you something Munson?

" you already did" he chuckled with his big brown eyes creasing. Noticing you were uncomfortable he stopped laughing." Uhh Yeah go for it."

"I uhh I like you. A lot." You said nervously.

Eddie leaned back with wide eyes and a frown on his face." Oh umm ok... thanks. Uhhh is that all?"

You nodded and he got up.

" Uhh see you around." He said and left.

You stopped buying from him that day. But it's like he didn't even notice. You had loads of classes with him since kindergarten. But he never saw you. I mean why would he. You were this overweight unpopular weirdo. You had very little friends and a shitty home life. No one would ever be interested in you.

...

You were at a party once in your junior year on your 18th birthday. You were kinda old for a junior but you were held back twice in middle school. When you saw Eddie He was taking some random chick upstairs. You were in love with him. Or what you thought was love. It hurt everytime he smiled. Or when he would be so dramatic at school. You honestly hoped he wouldn't graduate so you could see him all the time. He was an angel in a world full of monsters.

You had to pee so bad. You stumbled around looking for the bathroom upstairs. You opened door after door looking. When you opened one and saw Eddie sitting on the bed and some chick on her knees.

" Shit I'm sorry" you said and closed the door.

Your heart stopped as the flood of a suppressed memory came to the forefront of your mind. You were in the car with one of your mom's boyfriends. You were about 4 or 5 when he offered to let you steer the car. Obviously you wanted to. You were just a child. But that's when he said you need to do something for him. You agreed not knowing what he wanted. He unbuckle his belt and pulled out his penis. You didn't know what that was then. He pushed your head down to meet your lips to the head. You remembered resisting but he was stronger than you. It was just a kiss. You thank God now that it was just a kiss. How could guys do that shit to children?

You started having a panick attack. You finally found the bathroom and locked yourself in there. You poured cold water on your face with shaking hands. You started to count. A coping mechanism you learned over the years. But the the feeling didn't go away. That when you saw it. A single blade razor. Who ever it was it was now yours for the night. You looked down to your arm pulling up your sleeve. You wanted to feel something else. Anything else. You dug the blade in your upper forearm. Pulling a 2 inch cut. The feeling of release was what you need. A steady stream of blood dropped into the sink. That was the day you started to harm yourself. Sticking to only long sleeves and leggings to cover the scars that riddled over your arms and thighs.

That following Monday Eddie caught up to you at your locker.

" Hey sorry about the other night." Eddies words made you jump. sorry..didn't mean to scare you."

He stepped closer and you moved away.

"Hey y/n. You ok?"

You didn't respond and you just walked away. Why would you talk to him. Or any guys for that matter. They were all monsters.

Eddie tried again all week to talk to you but you were no where to be found. That's when you were hospitalized for attempted suicide. Spending a week in that place was dreadful. But in all honesty you need it. You need for someone to hear you. To help you. And you got the help you need. Rounds of finding the right medicine for your chemical imbalance. Though you felt like a zombie for the next few weeks you finally started to feel better. Talking to a therapist helped but not as much as you needed.

Finally back at school 2 weeks later the word got a out about you. So everyone stared and avoided you. Everyone except Eddie.

" I don't need your sympathy Munson."

" I'm not trying to...I just wanted to see if you want to hang out or something."

" Why?"

" I don't know. I mean I missed you."

Your brows furrowed. "Umm ok?"

" Come to the Hideout. Come watch us perform."

You nodded. But you didn't go. Late that night your brothers were sleeping and your mom was at work. You were watching a movie when you heard a knock on the front door. You answered and Eddie was there.

" Hey you didn't come."

" uh yeah I had to babysit. How did you know where I live?"

" I came over once remember. On your 14th birthday. Your mom invited the whole class."

You didn't remember that. But surprised that Eddie did.

" Can I come in?"

You stood back and let him in. Closing the door. You went to sit on the couch with Eddie joining you. You two watched the rest of the movie without saying a word. It was comfortable. Eddie kept looking over to you. But you didn't notice. It was hot and you pulled up your sleeves a little revealing your scars. Eddie looked at them and was so sad to see that you had hurt yourself.

What happened that was so bad for you to do that he thought. He wanted to ask but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. So he sat quietly watching you more than the movie.

You guys ended up spending more time together after that. Eddie played with your brothers and though he was rough around the edges your mom like him too. Giving him the nickname mijo. Eddie learned that you were Mexican and you could speak a little Spanish. He should have know that you were with all the food and miss matching dinner ware and the Spanish music that played during your birthday party. But he was so wrapped up in himself he didn't really pay attention to much that was going around him. But you never spoke Spanish neither did your family except your mom. Only when you were upset did you use your first language. He like that about you. It was different than the rest of the people in Hawkins. Sure the town was diverse but he never talked to any of them. He liked how big your family was how full your house always was and how close everyone were. He wanted a big family. Sure with issues of their own but a loving family. Yeah he had his uncle but he wished that he would get a wife and have kids so that he wouldn't be so lonely. That's why he hooked up a lot. Trying to find the right person for him. But I was always just sex. He thought maybe with Chrissy once but she was with Jason. Eddie didn't know that. If he did he would have never pursued her.

But you. You and your family were different. You guys didn't care what the rest of Hawkins thought about him. You guys treated him with respect. Like he was just another one of the family. Eddie wished he got to know you sooner.

On Christmas Eve Eddie was standing in an assembly line helping make tamales. You laughed when your mom helped him put his hair up so none would end up in the masa and made him take off his rings. He looked naked without them. He was so happy and nervous at the same time. He never had so much fun cooking before. Normally his Christmas were lonely and Christmas dinner was a microwave meal with Rudolph the red nosed reindeer playing in the background. The amount of presents under the beautiful Christmas tree in your living room was like something out of the movies.

Eddie was overwhelmed by the amount of gifts he got from your family. He never opened this many gifts in his life. The best gift came from you. You got him a cool looking mood ring. It looked totally metal. It fit perfectly on his ring finger. He felt bad that he didn't get you anything. He wanted to but he wasn't flushed with cash. But you didn't care. You didn't really care for Christmas. Eddie got up to give you a hug but you tensed up at his embrace. He noticed right away and pulled away.

...

It was New years when you were at the Munson's. Eddie's uncle wasn't home. That's when you told him about what happened when you were little. You cried and Eddie wanted to hold you but he knew that you didn't like to be touched. How could anyone hurt someone as sweet as you? That's why you were overweight. He didn't mind it but he knew you hated it.

" Is that why you cut yourself?"

You nodded and told him about that night you saw him.

Eddie started to cry when you said that. He had no idea you were hurting so bad. You were broken and he wanted to fix you. But how could he. He didn't know what to do or what to say. So he was just gonna be there. Whenever you need him he would always be there. He swore to himself that he would never hurt you.

[housefreak]

me, fed up with ableds? always :/

[baeklination]

Ocean: the abyss (3:2, final)

Date: 220223

Warnings/Contains: angst ����, abuse (ment, phys, sex.), gen. expl. lang.

Pairing: au! Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 6,4k

NOTE: It cannot be stated enough that Baekhyun is a vessel for this story (read link below for further explanation). 🚨Every scene isn’t explicit/graphic, but some are and they aren’t specifically marked out. Do skip this one if you’re sensitive to above-mentioned topics and/or if you don’t understand why people “stay”. 🚨

On sensitive/explicit topics.

Prologue (the surface) P.2 (the deep) P.3:1 (the abyss) Masterlist

¤¤

"Don't look so scared. Don't you want to know what's wrong with you?"

"I think everyone is scared when they come here. Of what the doctor will say."

Yes, there have probably been hundreds - thousands - of nervous women and men sitting in this very parking spot, giving each other encouraging words before going in.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Try not to say anything stupid in there. Don't upset me."

"Okay."

"Okay", he mimics, ridiculing your small voice. "This is exactly what I'm talking about��� You should be happy I'm willing to do this for you. You should be grateful. Instead you're sitting here like "okay"...", he says, shoving your head to the side.

You leave your eyes to stare at the car door where they land, waiting with a heavy heart for him to calm down, once again hoping no one saw.

¤

"We usually don't see couples here until after about a year of trying."

"A little early, we know", Baekhyun replies with the most sugary smile towards you. "But there's no harm in getting in front of it, is there? We're just eager to start our family, doctor."

"No, no, of course not. Either way it's good to have a physical now and again. But it's...you're not having one now, correct?"

"I get them at work. Fit as a fiddle. Anyhow it's more her we're worried about."

"Oh? Any particular reason? Have you had complications in the past; problem conceiving?"

"What, me? No."

"Miscarriage, venereal disease?"

"No, nothing", you say adamantly.

"Okay. Well, then there's no cause for concern just yet", the doctor says reassuringly. "If you just roll your sleeve up, yes, the left one, I'll check your blood pressure to start."

It's the doctor's job and what he should do but his barrage of questions has turned Baekhyun sour. Not outwardly (god forbid he be less than composed), but a darkness hangs around not only him but you as well. "Miscarriage. Venereal disease." Fodder for his distrustful mind. Ammunition.

"Aaand here…", he asks, lightly tapping on your abdomen.

"No, doesn't hurt."

"Oh, but that must've..."

Pointing to a bruise on your side you're not sure if you're imagining it, that there's a slight squint of concern in his eyes.

"Yes. I got caught in the elevator door with a box in my arms."

Of course you hadn't, but the traditional "walking into doors and falling down stairs" is something you never say. Thinking the episode sounds sufficiently strange to be true he frowns in sympathy and turns to Baekhyun:

"You should take over the heavy lifting, give your partner a break."

"Believe me, I try, but she's one of those headstrong ones", he laughs, ingratiating himself with the doctor.

After some further tapping, heart listening and weighing, he puts a slip of paper and a container in front of you.

"This is for your blood work, just show it to the nurse when you go in. And this is for the urine sample."

"This really is like my exams at work. Iron, hb…"

"Yep, but this time we'll specifically look at the hormone levels which we usually don't."

"If it's low or…"

Baekhyun's voice fades out when you take in what the doctor's just said. You'd gone in knowing certain things don't show on blood work - but of course they can see them if they want to! There's no stalling, no time, no way out…

"...looking a little tired", the doctor's voice fades in. "It's just a quick pop in and out, be over in a jiffy."

¤

"Let's go see your mum."

"Now?"

"Doctor's right, you look a little tired. Don't you want to go there?"

"No, you're right. I'll call her."

°

"We were out so Baekhyun suggested we swing round here", you say, paying less mind to your words, more to wrestling with Ga.

It makes Baekhyun jealous when you pay so much attention to him, but you don't care - he's the one who suggested it anyway.

"I don't even have cookies to offer. Plain coffee alright?"

"Just what I need", Baekhyun smiles gratefully, saying hello with a kiss on her cheek.

Oh, how you used to love seeing them together, how he was all smiles, help and compliments with her; now it's revolting, yet a protection against her ever thinking anything bad about him that would put you in a difficult spot.

"So what have you been up to?"

"We-"

"We went to see the doctor", he says over you.

"The doctor? What's the matter?", your mum asks with a worry in her voice.

"We're fine, mom. It was just a general physical. When was your last one, by the way?"

"Oh, doctor, shmoctor", she snorts, swatting her hand. "I'll go when I get sick."

You thank your lucky stars that Baekhyun doesn't go into detail about why you went. It wouldn't be news to her, but you've - in so many words - made her think that it's in the distant future rather than imminent partly so you wouldn't have to deal with her curiosity. If she had known you'd also have to constantly lie to her - or tell her the truth. And if you did that… Would she catch on about Baekhyun? Or would she simply tell you to come clean, hell, maybe get the ball of honesty rolling herself by some small remark? No. Ignorance is bliss.

"So are you staying for dinner? I wasn't planning on cooking, but I'll whip something up if you're here."

"Don't go through the trouble. We're eating out tonight."

"We are?"

"Why not? It's rare enough that I'm home on a weekday, let's go someplace nice. Won't be as crowded either."

"Oooh, he's a keeper, this one", she winks at you.

"A keeper that must excuse himself…", Baekhyun says and hauls up his ringing phone. "Work."

As he's leaving he stops and cocks his head, pointing at something: "You?", he mouths. When you turn around to look you see an old photo of yourself newly hung up on the wall.

"Mom..! Really?"

"I just thought it was so cute, I had to hang it..!"

It is cute. It also reminds you of the last time you saw it and why.

¤

It rarely ever got to fights with Baekhyun. You weren't the bickering type, so your previous relationships hadn't been stormy ones either, but with him it was different. Even before your falling out over Beanie, when he'd almost hit you, he had a way of shutting things down; be it with a certain look, an expression or mere energy, something made you drop whatever matter it was or go along with his wishes, brooding inwardly. But that day it wasn't about you "getting your way", it was about being a good friend to someone who'd been one to you.

You love watching Baekhyun watching TV. The money shows don't hold any special interest to you so you often lie like this, head in his lap, seeing the flickering lights across his face, his black hair shining.

"Your upper lip looks bigger from this angle."

A faint raise of his eyebrows and a quick look down. He grins, folding his hand over yours.

"Ah, that's why you're always down there. I was hoping for something less sweet..."

"Shh, you… I'm going out with Sān on the weekend."

"When?"

"We haven't decided, Friday or Saturday."

"Do you have to?", he asks, kissing your hand.

"Wait, isn't it this weekend you're away..?"

"Yeah… But why do you have to go out when I'm not here..?"

"All alone in this empty house - I might need the diversion..!", you play. "No, he's moving, remember? We're saying goodbye."

"Are you gonna be drinking?"

"Most likely. It's not the main focus, but you know what send-offs are like."

Since Baekhyun turns his attention back to the TV you don't think anything more of it, until ten minutes later.

"I don't want you going."

"What? What do mea-"

"I don't think you should go."

Sitting up you put your hands out, waiting for a further explanation, but get none.

"Of course I'm going. He's moving out of town, Baekhyun, I don't know when I'll see him again. It's not like I'm missing time with you."

"It's not unreasonable that I don't want my girlfriend to stay out drinking all night with some guy I've never met."

"Who said anything about all night? I said-"

"Don't raise your voice."

Oh, how it ticks you off when he says that, as if you're a kid talking back to her parents. How it irks you that he's so calm. Will you go either way? Yes. Do you feel like carrying on this argument? No.

But even when you get up Baekhyun goes after you, grabbing your wrist.

"Baekhyun..! Stop it."

"Are you still going?.."

"Let go of me."

"...Even when I tell you not-"

"Tell me?"

"Okay, then I might pick up some chicks from the hotel bar and get drunk, that's fair?"

Baekhyun's insinuations push you over the edge into the red zone.

"The only reason you don't know Sān is because you NEVER wanted to come when I asked!", you yell. "I've known him longer than I've known you, why would I wait 'til the last day to have sex-"

You stumble into the wall, your skin feeling like it's been ripped into a thousand scorching pieces.

For a lifetime, it seems, he's in shock, looking at you with round eyes and mouth where you sit, before he rushes.

"Oh, my god, I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean it!"

"Don't fucking TOUCH ME!"

The feeble fist punching on his arm while the other still holds your cheek makes him back away, sit down. With a horrendous pain and ringing in your ear you scramble to your feet and put your jacket on.

"No, what are you doing? Don't go. Please don't go..!"

In a haze of adrenaline you go here and there, trying to find your things with Baekhyun's never-ending flood of pleas behind you; "...I'm sorry, don't go, are you breaking up with me?, where are you going?, when will you be back?, call me, please call me, sweetie, It won't happen again, don't go...)

The last time, you packed a bag, but the jarring shock won't hold such a cool head. Phone, wallet - that's it. Even if you had a mind to pack you'd be too afraid; afraid that his begging and apologising would turn hostile, that he'd stop asking you not to go and simply not let you.

"I can't believe you still have these...", you sigh when your mom's footsteps come closer. "Where's this from?"

Laughing, she takes the photo from your hand.

"It was Ricky's birthday party. I think you were four..?"

"Ricky..?"

"You don't remember him? The Njie's son, they lived a few houses from us, across the street."

"Hmm...no. Did we go to school together?"

"Maybe first grade… They moved out sometime around then."

"But why am I dressed like a rat?"

"You're not a rat, honey, you're a chipmunk..!"

Her glistening laugh melts in to yours as you take the photo back:

"This is not a chipmunk..! Look at the tail! What...what is that!"

"It's… Oh, heaven's..! I couldn't figure out how to make one so your dad bought a plastic tube from the hardware store..!"

Thinking about how he must've looked - so proud and smart, not seeing any flaws in his plan - puts a weight on your heart. You were so embarrassed about his eccentricities back then…

"That was always him, wasn't it…", your mom muses, also feeling the weight.

"Mm…"

"So… Do you wanna talk about it?"

Called back to the present, scrunching your nose, you languidly shake your head.

"Did you break up?"

"That's not not talking about it, mom…"

"Right. Sorry. I was thinking of starting lunch, you hungry?"

Whether it's the comfort of a homemade meal or Gawa's big head on your stomach, you feel more at ease.

"Did you fight a lot?"

"Me and your dad? I think we mostly argued. I argued, about his crazy ideas."

"Even before you had me you never fought?"

"We must have, once or twice. But you remember what he was like, don't you? Took everything in stride, never raised his voice." Weighing her words, she continues. "It's okay to have a fight, honey. It's not the end of the world. Show me a couple that hasn't and I'll show you two liars…"

"Yeah, I know, I just… When is it big enough to break up…"

"Is it that bad?"

"Maybe."

You wish she could know the truth; magically she would know everything, then she'd tell you to stay here, never go back. But you can't bring yourself to say the truth.

"Oh, honey… It's hard to give advice when I don't know what's going on, but general wisdom? Your gut will tell you if it's not okay. If this issue is insurmountable I think you already have a feeling that it is…"

Shutting your quivering jaw, you put your arm over your burning eyes. She comes over and puts her hand on your shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

"Just remember that there's being angry and being angry right now. It's a big decision, so you don't want to make it when you're inflamed and then regret it."

"You think I would..?"

"I can't say. But Baekhyun's handsome, successful, a gentleman. Fighting shows less attractive sides of a person, but I really think he's a good man. A real catch, honey."

The calls went unanswered, but you couldn't help reading his texts. Some long, some short, early in the morning, late at night; all a variation on the same topic:

"I'll do anything, just come home. I'll talk to someone, I promise I'll never hurt you again. I don't know what I'll do without you. You're the most important thing in my life. The ONLY important thing."

Going up-and-down like a yoyo. In the mornings after a refreshing shower you were level-headed and sure you should've already left him back then. In the afternoon, anger. Anger at his behaviour, broken promises and subsequent pleas. But then dusk came… Watching the crowns of leaves swaying in front of the darkening sky brought you to the park; Baekhyun's body around yours, his arms trying to hug the chill away so you could stay another moment and another one after that. At night the question wasn't breaking up or not but a continuous merry-go-round of "How long can I be angry? How can we work it out? He said he would get help...", since imagining actually never being with him again put a cramp in your lungs. And then came the morning again…

When your mom opens the door you strain your ears to hear who rung the bell, but can't make out more than her surprised words, ruffling and Gawa's excited bark, until:

"Hi there, little fella'..!"

It's him. No. Yes. No. You don't know what feeling to hang your coat on.

"She's… I don't know if she'll see you, Baekhyun."

"I know. That's why…" After some more ruffling your mother cries out with excitement. "For the most beautiful girl in the world. A meagre apology. And here, for the most beautiful mother."

Not able to control your curiosity, you peek into the hallway, just in time to see your mom with a bouquet of roses in her hand.

"She's in…", she points to him and goes to the kitchen.

Your flowers peep through before he does, overwhelmed you press your back to the wall ("There must be five or six dozen red roses in there..!") You're tearing up before he's even turned the corner, just hearing him come closer breaks you.

Tilting his head this way, then that, he has the saddest eyes. His voice is thin, brittle - he must be so afraid of losing you.

"I love you…"

Biting the inside of your cheek you let him stroke your hair, kiss you on the forehead, your temple; you let him hug you close, rest his head against yours. You just nod and pull him closer still.

You know every inch of him, yet he feels new; soft lips on yours, curious and excited hands touching everywhere, the scent emanating from him when he throws his shirt off… Physical and mental intoxication mixing with forgiveness and being released from the grip of anxiety - you could stay on him forever.

"Hey… Do you remember the first time we had sex?", he asks, pushing his hand underneath your underwear.

"M-hm."

"That night I wanted to...do it the other way?"

Getting up on your elbows a red flag waves in the distance. Yes, you remember, you even joked about it - but after you explained how you felt he never pushed, not once.

"Baekhyun…"

"Everyone does it, sweetie…", he coos, planting shallow kisses on your mouth.

"That's not true, everyone doesn't do it. I can't help it if it hurts… Why can't we just-"

"It won't hurt, sweetie. I love you, I wanna share myself with you in every way. Don't you love me the same..?"

"Don't say that, of course I do. But you said…"

When your protest fades out he cups your face, sharing the juiciest kisses, his excitement shouting behind his soft words:

"I'll be careful, sweetie. It won't hurt… You're gonna like it…"

"Ow. No, it's not gonna work."

"Shh, shh. If you relax. I'll take it slow."

"Baekh…"

Your plea is cut short by a sharp pain as he continues to push. Not a sliver of light comes through your tightly shut eyes; there's not one molecule between the sheets and your shaking fists.

You're in the same place, but in two different worlds, you and Baekhyun. When the worst pain subsides, his sounds of pleasure only serve to highlight your feeling of being a prop - "Men, gather around if you'd like to try..!". Intolerable humiliation.

You only meant to wash your hands but end up rinsing your arms and neck as well. Shame permeates the essence of a person - it's a dirt that won't be washed away. "Then why'd you let him? You should've said no." You convince yourself that if you had really said no Baekhyun wouldn't have continued, of course not. He just wasn't thinking straight because he was wrapped up, he didn't realise. Asking yourself if you should tell him now, before bed, your insides turn. You don't want him to think that he… He'd be devastated. Or what if he thinks you're overreacting, or being a prude..?

It's an irony that the person who created this is the one you find comfort with.

"Wait a min… Are you crying?", he asks, running his thumb over your cheek, feeling for tears. "Did it hurt, is that why?"

"Mm", you mumble into his chest.

"Oh, you should've said something, sweetie…", he whispers, stroking your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Did he really not hear you? Determined to not make him feel any worse you don't say anything, just shake your head, trying to hold your tears in.

"Oh, poor sweetie… I'll make it up to you tomorrow. We'll go out buy you something nice."

You don't care about whatever nice thing he will buy - his regretfulness is what matters to you. His closer hug and firm kiss on your head.

"I'm so glad you came home... And don't worry. It won't hurt when you're used to it."

And so, for the rest of your relationship you'd be anxious about what he wanted whenever he nuzzled your neck.

¤

"Is everything really alright with you? You're not trying to keep me in the dark are you, honey?"

"Keep you in the dark about what, mom?" You give your question a little chuckle to cover up the nervous stir in your gut.

"Well, you have been looking a little pale recently."

"It's winter. We all have. No, I'm fine, everything's good."

"You're not working too much are you?"

You sigh and lie down on the couch. Gawa comes up after - you're still his human.

"Well, I know how you're always taking every extra shift-"

"I'm not working too many hours-"

"They have other employees, you know. It's okay to turn one down once-"

"JESUS ALREADY!", you shout at her when she keeps pulling at the scab.

"Okay, sorry..!" Disheartened by your sudden outburst she looks away, fidgeting with her sleeve."I'm allowed to worry, aren't I…"

Making amends is too big of a burden, so you instead close your eyes and drift away to the sound of Gawa's breaths.

Trying to keep the rest of the day amiable you think and overthink about what words to use to show appreciation without annoying him. You can't sound too cheery, but too little and you sound sarcastic.

"It turned into a full day. The doctor's, mom's and now dinner. That's nice. I'm really hungry."

"That was just something I said, I’m heading into the office. You know how she likes to hear that stuff…"

"She doesn't care that much."

He smirks at you with a little huff before the lights change:

"You all do."

¤

"You all do... You all do. You all-"

"You...piece of shit!", you hiss, tearing your clothes from the bars, one after the other, hangers violently swinging and falling down on the floor.

Growling unfinished sentences there aren't enough adjectives for you to use as you punch your stupid fauxs and rip at your dumb Vuitton's, furiously hurling a hanger to the side - crack!

"No, no, no..!", you stutter in disbelief and fear at the cracks reaching like tendrils across the mirror. "No my god… What do I do..? No, no, no..."

With adrenaline still rushing in your body you look at the mess you've made and regret hits you like a ton of bricks. ("I can't fix it. Buy a new one? If I...hang my robe over maybe he won't notice and I can change it tomorrow. He'll notice - he'll never NOT notice! Why didn't I just hit the floor!? No… What am I gonna do!")

You decide on sending him a text, since saying it to his face would add the risk of him being angered by your demeanour.

When he comes back home he inspects the damage and comes out, crossing his arms.

“That’s Italian, you know…”

“I know. I’ll pay for a new one.”

“You don’t have that kind of money, sweetie...”

¤

Like a child hiding a broken vase in the wardrobe and deeming the problem fixed you've done the same; pushing the matter aside, pretending the wardrobe won't ever be opened. Hardly ever looking at your situation with honesty towards yourself it's become your status quo: just go on. But this time you should've gotten out because the truth always does.

"So there wasn't anything abnormal with your tests…", the doctor affirms over the phone.

("They missed it? Please, please, please…")

"...except… Maybe you'd feel more comfortable speaking privately?"

Your bones turn to pulp, Baekhyun fixes his narrowing eyes on you. You should grab the phone and tell the doctor to call the police, tell him whatever you can in the few seconds you'd have, but those words don't fit in your mouth.

"It's okay. Wha… I'm sorry. What is it?"

"Well, looking at your hormone levels they are what I'd expect to see with someone who's on birth control. If you're not ready...maybe you should talk to each other?"

There's no point in answering. Baekhyun ends the call and stands up. There's no point in saying anything. Stare at the table until something happens.

Like a claw around your neck, his fingers dig into your hair and pull. Never once did you fight back but the excruciating pain makes you grab his wrist, kicking, as he drags you off the chair and throws you onto the floor. With a huff he nods, as if saying "well, there we have it, right?". The way he bites his cheeks and cracks his neck is unlike him. Kneeling, pushing his fingers into your jaw, his voice is cold when he points at you.

"You're all the same…"

¤

You don't look as bad as you feel (small blessings). If he'd been his usual self you've no doubt your eyes would've been swollen shut and at least one cheekbone cracked, but he wasn't. It's as if he was overwhelmed by his own fury, shut off from his normal reaction. He kept slapping you across the face. "I've taken care of you, sweetie…" His voice was tender…"You're always walking around here like a snivelling little cunt, but I took care of you…" Berating you, telling you all the things that made you worthless, then another slap. "Do you understand how it makes my skin crawl to have to look at you every day?", he'd hissed, shaking your head by the hair. Wiping his mouth he looked away, shaking his head. "I…"

It had been the most horrifying experience, but what degraded you was the way he left; directing a wash of spit at your face.

Afraid to move you had to let it sit there, running down, mixing with your snot, finding its way between your lips until he finally left the apartment.

There had been no ceiling on Baenie's rage when she saw you at her doorstep - your mouth was bad enough that she understood. After a long inhale every slur under the sun gushed out while she put her coat on, ready to do whatever. It was only when Minnie heard the keys he realised that something, if not what, was going on.

"Wow, wow, wow, where are you going?", he asked, grabbing her arm as she reached for the handle. "What's going on?"

"That!", she shouted and pointed to you. "I'm going to do what I should've a long time ago!"

"Honey, honey, alright, calm down. I don't-"

"Kim Minseok, I swear to god, if you don't let go of me…"

"What, are you just leaving Y/N here? She came here to see you! You're not going anywhere in this state. Think."

Beanie's small hands made even smaller fists. Clenching her jaw, she breathed out violently, knowing she had to admit defeat.

Convincing her to not call the police straight away had been a demanding conversation. Like so many others she couldn't understand why it was even a question, why you shouldn't "send him packing to where he belongs". Blaming your resistance on fatigue and nerves (not the fear of being called a liar or shame of having to go into detail about everything - and even then being asked why you "just didn't leave him") you managed to get her to agree to giving you a night of sound sleep before going ahead.

At a loss for words, understandably so, Minnie had mostly stayed quiet, sitting on the edge of the couch. Was he trying to figure out how to navigate the situation without ruffling too many feathers? You didn't blame him.

¤

Agitated voices rouse you, having dozed off where you sit. Drunk with sleep, fear creeps in but you realise where you are, who they are.

"You'll wake the baby!", Minseok whispers harshly, in spite of Baenie's volume.

"I'll wake her alright, so she can see what a fucking coward her dad is!"

Oh no. This is your fault.

"Keep your voice down, damn it! I'm just saying they might be able to work it out some other way than-"

"Work-! You see how Baekhyun works things out!"

They're arguing about whether to report Baekhyun or not, most likely because it would "cause trouble", so to speak. Minnie must be afraid of losing his job, or being seen as someone who doesn't have his friends' backs. Or losing his friend...

"Unbelievable..!", she spits at him. "You are un-believable. What, a little cash gift and problem solved?"

"That is not what I said, Bean!", Min hisses back.

"One more word, Minnie…", she warns as she turns the corner. "One word…"

Brusquely putting her hair in a bun, she blows fumes through her nose as she paces to the window. Waiting to see if she'll say something seems to be in vain, so you feebly speak first.

"What..?"

Visibly cooled down but still visibly angered she shakes her.

"He called."

"You?"

"Minnie..."

"Did-"

"He knows you're here - he already guessed, Minnie didn't tell him. He tried...motherf… He tried to get Minnie to take you home."

"Maybe I should go."

"No! What are you thinking, no..!"

"Not hom-...not back. Just somewhere else, so I don't cause trouble between them."

"Cause… You're not causing anything. You hear?"

If she'd stayed holding your shoulders maybe the stinging would've settled, but when she hugs you it overflows; warm tears silently streaming down, burning your chafed cheek.

The continuous buzzing of your phone woke you up and now you hold it, waiting for the fourth call to end. Just when you begin to hope it was the last, the screen lights up again - a text message. With trepidation, already regretting it you swipe it open:

"Go to the living room window."

("Why?") With the fantastical notion he might have a gun you crawl down from the sofa and press your body to the wall, peering down the seven floors. His car is parked by the curb. Throwing a glance at the sofa, checking to see if Beanie's still sleeping, you then look back outside.("Where is he..? What if he's coming up! If he's on his way up! I have to wake them, he might do som-") The driver's door opens. When he looks up you hold your breath, heart beating out of your chest, but of course he can't see you with all the lights off. You follow his walk, Beanie's name on your tongue, ready to be called out any second, one more step. Rounding the car, he goes to the backseat and leans in; standing back up, Gawa jumps out on the sidewalk.

You're only a hair away from slamming your fists on the window, but you hit the wall instead, sinking to your knees. Hyperventilating, you cover your mouth with your hands until you bear to stand back up. Baekhyun's just standing there, leaning against the car. Ga is just sitting. They're just standing and sitting, but it makes you double over in pain, taking a deep breath just as you start crying again.

Looking at Bean sound asleep you're so sorry. She deserves better.

Don't you too?

But he wins.

¤

Numb doesn't describe it. Putting your clothes on, sneaking off without a goodbye…

Wiping your face on your shirt, feeling like you'll go through the ground with the elevator, it doesn't matter. Everything, since you were born, has been in vain... ("If Baekhyun doesn't care that they know, he'll…")

"Look, there's mommy."

When you try to say hi to him, Baekhyun tells him to hop in the backseat again.

You can't bear to look him in the face. Head hanging low, you beg.

"Let him go. Plea-…" You can't breathe. "Please... Please. Baekhyun, please. I'll go with-"

"Get in the car."

A fleeting touch of his back is all you get before Baekhyun takes him to the dressing room and locks him in. Not a word has been said between you. All you could think about was your mom - the best mom - and what you should've told her long ago. And how to get Gawa out.

In the kitchen...

Not thinking, you dart. You don't get anywhere near the drawers before his hand closes around your arm. In a pathetic attempt to get free you walk backwards dragging him with you, begging for mercy through your eyes. When he pulls you back true fear sets in and nothing can stop you from screaming for help as loud as you can, until he splits your lip. He's on the floor the second you are. The crack says your nose is broken, but you fight him off any way you know how, swinging your arms trying to move your legs. When he stands up you think you have but your consciousness disintegrates when his foot lands in your stomach. Suddenly it's all white tiles under your face, wheezing through blood and saliva and like a dream, faint in the background Gawa's barking has turned to agitated whining. The sound of his buckle opening shouldn't scare you anymore, but when it's followed by a rapid zzzut!, you truly are more scared than you've ever been.

Your feet shake uncontrollably like little dancers after the first contact - the leather must've split the skin on your back, you're sure of it. Then the hands protecting your face, your neck, your arms...

You take off your pants and underwear and hide them at the bottom of the laundry bin, away from eyes that would ridicule you for wetting them. You swipe your nose with water, take the towel with you to the couch and lie down. That's all you can do.

¤

You wouldn't have cared, wouldn't have bothered getting up if it was just you, but when you remember Ga in the closet you jerk, instantly wailing - the towel stuck to your dry blood ripped from your lip. You press it tighter so it won't happen with your nose and swallow your groans as you laboriously come to a sitting position, wondering if your spleen might be ruptured and how bad the stinging on your body looks. You want so badly to lie back down, sleep it all away ("Just let go, it's over and done…").

You don't know if Baekhyun's in the apartment - what will you do if he is? What will he do? After sitting a while, trying to listen for any sound you decide that if a slim chance is all you have then you'll give it at least a slim shot. Getting yourself to the bathroom you douse towel and face with warm water and peel bit by bit, the task being even more arduous with the vision of half an eye. You don't have to clean up - the wet towel and bright red splashes in the sink can stay while you move on. Stuffing cotton in your nose and grabbing a smaller cloth for the seemingly never-ending flow from your upper lip you lumber to the dressing room. You press the handle down hoping for a miracle - it's still locked. But from inside a loud bark sounds. You don't want to move your mouth for the pain so you mumble as clearly as it allows.

"Hm! Hhh-ng!", you try to say his name, your throat thick with elation and sadness alike. "Mhey… I mhey. "

Invigorated by the sound of him you push and push with all your strength, biting down the pain each time - but the door won't budge. Feeling like it's over before you barely had a chance to try, you remember the membership card from the supermarket and hurry to the kitchen. In your mind's eye you can already see the empty space where it should be and your gut twists, but the green colour pops out when you open the cupboard.

Taking more than a few tries, hopelessness and fear creeping in, you finally feel the handle sink down and the door push open.

“Mhh!”

You’re jubilant, but physically can’t stand his excited jumping on you, so you keep him at bay while you find something to wear. Pulling a pair of sweats over your legs you locate the origin of the smell that hit you when you walked in the room: the carpet - always pristine white - has the marks of his confinement on it; like you hid your pants yesterday, Gawa has also tried, going in the furthest corner of the room. Had it been any other day it would have crushed you with terror, but today it's nothing; you grab a bottle of water and put your jacket on.

The outer door won't open. In your frenzied state you don't realise you haven't turned the bolt properly, so you yank and push at it, making Gawa whine in distress. When it finally does you breathe a sigh of relief.

The elevator is too big a risk, but Baekhyun would never go through the stairwell - so you will. You hug the railing until your knuckles turn white. Stepping downward shifts your abdomen which causes a wrenching pain, but you keep going until you're two flights down. Opening the water bottle you notice your hands have specks of blood on them - the scratches opened here and there when the skin pulled around the bar. You'd only brought the water for him, but finish almost half of it yourself, the most part spilling on your shirt from your trembling hand.

"Hhhng…", you sound, ready to use your hand as a cup for him.

When the water starts pouring something black swishes through your line of sight, landing with a clear sound. It can't be. Dropping the bottle, drying off on your pants, you pick it up. ("Why didn't he take it..!") Seven missed calls, all hers. Of course it's all hers… Without wasting time you press call. Now, for the first time, the reality that you might make it through hits you. It only takes two signals for her to pick up, but overtaken by your own emotions you can hardly speak.

"Y/N!? Is it you!?"

Not a word comes out. You sit listening to her beckoning in a flood of harrowingly painful tears, met by convulsions in your throat every time you try to say something. It's no use. Ending the call, you send her a text message instead:

"Come to the garage."

¤

“...and where the hell were you anyway…”, Beanie grinds her teeth, sickened by the discrimination the police refer to as prioritising.

“Ma’am, I assure you, we take this very seriously, and if you let us do our job we will do it.” Turning back her attention to you, the detective continues. “So physical, verbal and mental abuse, threatening and controlling behaviour… Is there anything else you want us to know?”

Even with her empathy and sympathetic tone you have difficulty articulating everything, because it feels like you’re admitting that you let someone do this to you.

“Yesterday he locked Gawa in the closet without water or food…all night...”

“And Gawa is..?”

“He’s her dog. He’s okay.”

“And…I think…”

“It’s okay, you can tell them everything.”

Your lips quiver and your fingers find the sleeve of Bean’s shirt.

“Rape…”

[straykats]

more about me !

hi hi, call me kat! find me at my other sideblogs too (linked at the bottom of my pinned!)

viet-aus!

uni student :')

virgo, infp-t. do with this info what you will.

hyunjin, minho, seungmin and i have the same relationship as a farmer and the three field system only all fields are always in use and the farmer has no one but themselves to tend to the fields so the farmer is very stressed (ie. idk who my bias/bias wrecker/ult is and i swear all three are all three or are always constantly rotating to the point that it doesnt matter)

trigger warnings

i will always try my best to tag things with the relevant tws if they aren't already mentioned! please send an ask or msg if i miss something, or you would like smth to be tagged!

please tag...

phys abuse

self harm

sui themes

bugs + spiders, especially if there's a lot and it's more than just a brief mention

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jpop/jrock artists!!

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