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yanderart · 4 years

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He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step.

It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect.

“So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on.

Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

“Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper.

Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features.

Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened.

“Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands.

"Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness.

"You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.

You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal.

Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag.

"I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he?

If only you knew.

"Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

"You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement.

A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery.

(Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

"Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

"Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer.

(Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both.

As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

"You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight.

"Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked.

"I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law."

Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

"Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics.

"Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth.

"Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

"Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you.

And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

Now that was interesting.

"Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down.

"Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?"

You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

"Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you.

"I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments.

"So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation.

Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role.

"Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage.

"I wasn’t..."

"Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe.

"If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out.

Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did.

When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

"I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions.

You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you.

The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear.

"Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both.

"Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries."

As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody.

It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering.

Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore.

"Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence.

When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.

Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet.

"But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

"You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime.

So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face.

"I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway.

You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze.

For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

"Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain.

(And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

"Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

"But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded.

"I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be).

Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped.

"Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it.

Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped.

"I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you).

When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that.

"Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.

"Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths.

Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced.

It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

"Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer.

"Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

"Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed.

"Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

"Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through.

Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

"Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit.

"Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight.

"None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…"

But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you.

"Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say."

And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected.

The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before.

"More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by.

"Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment.

He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

(You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.)

You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence.

You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

"You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home.

"Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work.

Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago.

(Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

"Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over.

The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.

"Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips.

Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

"Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides.

Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected.

A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent.

"Fucking… get on with it."

However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body.

"But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness.

It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks.

The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself.

If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps.

So goddamn close…

Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them.

Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all.

Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit.

When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork.

"Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment.

But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most.

When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face.

And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust.

"Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured.

However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry.

"Hold on..."

Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

"Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused.

"Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice.

When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling.

"You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago.

But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed.

Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you.

God, even for villain standards you were fucked.

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — —

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha, @snappysnapo and @drxwsyni (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL).

#bnha fanart #aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #mha fanart #bnha x reader #aizawa fanart #aizawa smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #aizawa shouta #bnha art #eraserhead #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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multiple-fandomimagines · 4 years

Text

Breathe In

Pairing: Cullen Family x Female!Reader (Platonic), Quileute Pack x Female!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Reader is the youngest addition to the Cullen family. Being a human with severe asthma causes your family to be extra protective, especially if they aren’t always around to help.

Word Count: 4128

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experience, brief mentions of self-degrading thoughts

A/N: This is my first time posting my writing so feedback would be greatly appreciated! (Main account @hi-my-name-is-riley )

Being adopted into the Cullen family was nothing short of a blessing.

They quickly became the family you never had but had always wanted. Early on, you found yourself gravitating towards Emmett and Edward, the two quickly became your best friends.

It was not long after you had been adopted that they told you their secret. The revelation came after you saw Emmett uproot a literal tree and throw it at Jasper, who walked away completely unscathed.

The family made you feel loved. Your brothers were protective of you, as were your sisters. Carlisle would always find time to talk to you about school and how you were adjusting, while Esme kept the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods.

Being the only human in a family of vampires had its ups and downs. For instance, you always had help with your homework, and Alice was a fantastic stylist. On the other hand, you were still human, and that brought along human problems.

When you were first adopted into the Cullen family, Carlisle was sure to inform everyone about your pre-existing health problems.

Mainly, your asthma.

You were diagnosed with asthma at an early age and had been able to use your inhaler and nebulizer, or breathing treatment, as you fondly called it, since before you could remember. But, just because you were used to your crappy lungs, didn’t mean that your new family was.

It wasn’t until a few months after you had been adopted did you have your first severe asthma attack.

You were lounging on the couch doing your homework when you felt a tickle in the back of your throat. Hoping it would go away, you cleared your throat and drank from your water bottle, ignoring the occasional faint wheeze.

Your chest gradually got tighter and tighter over the next couple of minutes, a wheeze now accompanying every breath you took.

Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward, who were spread out around the room doing various assignments, looked at each other than at you in concern. They had heard you have small asthma attacks, but they had never heard you wheeze this bad.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Rosalie asked softly.

You were about to respond when your breath got caught in your throat. You made a choking sound before a cough violently ripped its way out of your mouth.

Cough after cough escaped followed by desperate gasps for air; your body jerking in tandem. Reacting on instinct, you scrambled for your backpack, ripped it open, and grabbed your trusty inhaler.

Within seconds, you were surrounded by your siblings, including Alice and Jasper who came running as soon the coughs started. They watched with pity as your face turned bright red, sweaty, and your eyes filled with tears. They asked you questions, but you were too focused on your breathing to answer. All they could do was watch.

It felt like hours until you were able to take a breath, but, once you could, you took a puff from the inhaler. This went on for several minutes, violent coughing and harsh breaths followed by the use of your inhaler.

When the coughs started to subside, you looked up at the worried faces surrounding you, “Will one of you please help me to my room?” Your voice was hoarse as you gasped out the question.

Strong arms lifted you from the couch and carried you at a human pace towards your room.

A pained look flashed across your face as you were hit with a second round of coughs, and you took another puff from the inhaler grasped tightly in your shaking hand.

Emmett helped you onto your bed before sitting against the headboard and pulling you into his chest. The rest of your siblings filed into the room, eagerly waiting for any command or request.

“There is a blue bag in my closet with a grey machine, some tubes, a mouthpiece, and medicine in it. Ple-” before you could finish the sentence, the bag containing your nebulizer was sitting in front of you. Blinking away the dizziness, you got to work setting it up. With shaky hands and a pounding head, you went through the motions that had become muscle memory: plug the tube into the nebulizer and the compressor, rip open the liquid capsules, squirt the medicine into the cup, hold the mouthpiece between your lips, plug in the nebulizer, turn it on.

You paused as another round of coughs shook your body, you looked at Edward who understood what you needed and plugged the machine into the nearest outlet and flicked it on.

The familiar taste of vaporized medicine hit your tongue, and you collapsed into Emmett’s chest, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. His cold, granite-like body cooled down your blazing skin and helped you stay elevated. As if reading your thoughts, he placed one of his hands on your forehead while the other combed through your hair.

“I thought Edward was supposed to be the mind reader.” You mumbled over the mouthpiece.

“Shhhh. Just relax and focus on breathing.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, the whirring of the nebulizer lulling you into a light sleep.

~~~~

“How long has it been running?” A voice from over you asked.

“About fifteen minutes. But she put two of these capsules in.”

“You should’ve seen it, Carlisle. She could barely breathe, but she managed to put the machine together in moments while we all just watched.” Emmett’s chest rumbled under your head as he spoke.

“If you thought that was impressive, wait ‘til you see me do it when I’m having an asthma attack in the dark.” You joked, the mouthpiece still in between your lips.

“How’re you feeling Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you saw Carlisle sitting at your side with Esme not far behind him. You allowed Carlisle to remove the mouthpiece and click the nebulizer off.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to.” You dismissed, “What are you doing here, aren’t you two supposed to be at some fancy doctor event?”

“You gave your siblings quite a scare,” Carlisle chuckled. “They called saying you couldn’t breathe and we left immediately.”

“But I had it all under control, there was no need to come home.”

“We didn’t know that Y/N.” Rosalie snapped, concern swimming in her eyes, “We just sat around and watched, not being able to do anything, as our baby sister couldn’t breathe!”

“What she means,” Alice shot Rosalie a look, cutting her off, “is that none of us knew you could get that bad and it scared us.”

“I could hardly read your thoughts,” Edward mumbled. When you looked at him confused, he explained, “You were so focused on your asthma that your mind went into autopilot. I had no idea what you needed or how to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, feeling guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s ours for not being properly prepared.” Esme insisted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, and, in the morning, we’ll have a family meeting on how we can help you in the future. Alright?” Carlisle asked.

You nodded, and your guilt was replaced with sleepiness thanks to Jasper. You cuddled further into Emmett’s chest, who chuckled and resumed petting your hair. You drifted into sleep after your parents and siblings had wished you a goodnight.

Unbeknownst to you, your family had all stayed in your room as you slept, not able to bring themselves to leave your side after the evening you all had.

~~~~

When Carlisle asked what triggered your asthma, your family was surprised at your answer.

Exercise? Asthma Attack. Allergies? Asthma Attack. Cold Weather? Asthma Attack. Laughing? Asthma Attack. Sneezing? Asthma Attack.

Lungs couldn't make decisions, meaning Alice was unable to see when or where you would experience your next asthma attack. If there was one thing your family despised more than anything, it was not knowing when you could be in danger. So, after that night, they had gone a bit overkill with the asthma thing.

While you taught your siblings and Esme everything they needed to know about your asthma (how to work your nebulizer, the importance of staying elevated, keeping your body cool, etc.), Carlisle managed to get an inhaler for each of your siblings on the off chance that you lost or misplaced yours, and there was an emergency.

These small pieces of life saving plastic became their prized possessions. At any given time, they had an inhaler on them, even when they weren’t with you. They carried them while hunting, shopping, in class, working on their cars, etc.

Bella had even mentioned how, on multiple different occasions, she had felt the hard plastic of the inhaler in Edward’s pocket while they cuddled. (Talk about a cock block)

In the beginning, it was overbearing. You couldn’t blame them for being worried—you knew that seeing you that night had terrified them. That being said, having five inhalers shoved at you every time you so much as breathed funny got very old very fast.

It took some time, but, after constantly reminding them that you had your own inhaler and promising them that you would go to them if it was an emergency, they eventually settled down.

~~~~

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. It had rained the night before and left nothing but sunshine and a cool breeze. Your family had plans to go hunting that day—which meant that you and Bella were going to spend the day at the reservation. You enjoyed spending time on Quileute land. It meant you got to cook with Emily and mess around with the other wolves.

When word of the Cullens adopting a human reached them, they insisted on seeing you once a month to make sure that you remained human. You were nervous when you first met Sam and the others, your family telling you all about their secret and the treaty. But, to nobody’s surprise, you all got along amazingly—Sam, Emily, Paul, and the rest of the pack treating you like family. The only member of the pack you didn’t get along with was Jacob. Your family meant everything to you, and you were not a fan of Jacob’s need to be involved in your brother’s love life. But, for the sake of the treaty, the two of you acted civilly towards each other.

Edward had pulled up to the treaty line with the usual pained expression on his face. Jacob stood against the hood of his car on the other side of the line with an excited smile. Bella and Edward quickly said their goodbyes before she hopped out and went towards Jacob. Edward watched on with jealousy as he read Jacob’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry Eddy, nothing will happen while I’m here. After all, I’m still a minor.” You teased him, leaning over the center console.

Edward chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Emmett.”

You shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing. Just as you were moving to sit back and get out of the car, Edward’s arm grabbed yours. Turning back, his eyes bore into yours.

“Be safe and have fun okay? We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Carlisle, Emmett, and I will have our phones on us so do not hesitate to call. Do you have your inhaler?”

“I have my inhaler, phone, and I’ll do my best to stay safe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I always worry about you.” He huffed and kissed your temple.

You smiled at him, “Love you too. Now, go kill something big!” You exclaimed, sliding out of the car and heading towards Jacob and Bella. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was rolling his eyes.

Jacob pulled up to Sam and Emily’s house. The car was barely in park before you jumped out and scurried towards the house, Bella and Jacob’s banter making you nauseous. The house was abnormally quiet when you walked in, the only sounds coming from the kitchen.

“Emily?”

The clamoring of pots and pans came to a stop, Emily peeking her head around the corner, a big grin plastered on her marred face, “Y/N, you’re here!” She pulled you into a hug, “The rest of the boys are out patrolling and enjoying the nice weather, but you’re just in time. I was about to start making muffins!”

You were easily the closest to Emily, the two of you quickly bonded over your mutual love of cooking and baking. Time flew by as you and Emily gossiped and cooked up a storm, making enough muffins, cookies, casseroles, and trail mix to feed the pack. Before you knew it, the front door was opening and Sam, followed by Embry, Quil, Jacob, and Bella, stepped into the house. Greetings were thrown around before the boys dug into their food.

You took a seat across from Bella, between Quil and Embry. You watched the two boys with a look of disgust as they tore into the muffins. Sam, Emily, and Bella laughed at your face, bringing the attention to you.

“Got a problem Y/N?” Quil asked, purposely smacking his mouth near your ear.

You shoved him away, “With you? No. With the way you eat? Absolutely. Just ‘cause you two are dogs doesn’t mean you have to eat like it.” You teased, attempting and failing to hide your growing smile.

The two wolves made eye contact over your head, exchanging silent words.

“You asked for it,” Embry exclaimed before him and Quil attacked your sides, tickling you.

“Say uncle!”

“Never!” You squealed.

This went on for what felt like hours before Sam heard you begin to wheeze, “Boys stop torturing the poor girl and eat the food she helped make for you.” His command brought their actions to a halt.

You sent the alpha a grateful look as you attempted to catch your breath. A wheeze had begun to sound from your chest. It was accompanied by a familiar tightness that didn’t immediately worry you but made you hyperaware of where you placed your bag.

Just as you started to feel comfortable, a different set of hands grabbed your sides. The surprise of the attack combined with the onslaught of fingers tickling your sensitive sides caused your wheeze and chest pain to come back with a vengeance. You couldn’t see who the culprit was, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the burning in your chest as coughs and laughs competed to escape your body at the same time.

“Paul stop! She’s having an asthma attack!” Bella’s voice echoed in your ringing ears.

The hands on your sides retreated. Before you could register what was happening, your chair was turned around and Bella was crouched in front of you.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. Where is your inhaler?”

Taking a deep breath you managed to wheeze out a response, “M-my bag.”

You heard the sound of what you could only assume was the contents of your bag being dumped onto the table as you did your best to take steady breaths. Despite your attempt, coughs kept escaping.

“It isn’t in here, Bella! What do we do?”

Panic started festering in your stomach. How could you be so stupid to forget your inhaler? You swore you put it in your bag!

Bella stood from her spot in front of you, combing her fingers through her hair while she thought. She knew second hand how bad this could get, and Bella didn’t want to take any chances. Not only were you her boyfriend’s baby sister, but she considered you family, and when the two of you were on the reservation, you were her responsibility. The two of you looked at each other and you nodded, silently giving Bella the go-ahead. “Hand me my phone, I need to call Edward. Emily, take my place and try to get her to match your breathing.”

Emily kneeled in front of you and looked at you with sympathy.

You avoided looking her in the eye, too embarrassed that she, and the other wolves, had to see you like this. You weren’t a pretty sight, bright red, sweaty, heaving for air, and sputtering out skull rattling coughs.

As if sensing your embarrassment, Emily rubbed your back comfortingly, reminding you of Esme. She muttered what you could assume were words of support that you couldn’t hear over the ringing of your ears.

On the other side of the room, you faintly heard Bella talking to Sam. You only managed to make out a few words—“Emmett”, “inhaler”, and “treaty line”, but that was enough to make your panic slightly subside. You were going to see your family soon, and everything would be okay.

Next thing you knew, Sam, Bella, Paul, Quil, and Embry rushed out the door and piled into Sam’s car. Jacob picked you up bridal style, Emily making sure you were secure before he sprinted out of the house in the direction of the treaty line. In a last-ditch effort to calm your lungs, you did some breathing exercises that Carlisle taught you to no avail.

Your cough continued to get worse as Jacob ran, your face slowly going from red to a light purple as you struggled to get enough oxygen. Jacob’s hot skin pressed flush against your own, combined with your gasps for air, made you feel like you were burning alive.

You had never experienced an asthma attack this bad before.

At that point, you were barely coughing anymore, just desperately choking for air. All you could think about was your family.

Esme didn’t deserve to lose another child.

The blue skies and green treetops blurred as tears started to stream down your cheeks. You were terrified that you wouldn’t make it to the treaty line. Panic overtook you as dark spots clouded your vision, and you continued to heave for air. You closed your eyes, accepting that you were going to die from an asthma attack in the arms of someone you didn’t even like that much.

“We’re almost there, little Cullen, don’t give up on me yet.” You could only respond with more pained sounds causing Jacob to mutter some swears before pushing himself to run faster.

You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when you were passed into a pair of cold arms, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the drastic temperature change. A piece of hard plastic was placed between your lips, the familiar taste of albuterol on your tongue. Despite your instincts to inhale, new coughs pushed the medicine out over and over again.

The sound of screeching tires and muffled voices registered in the back of your brain. You felt your body being rearranged, your back pressing up against a familiar hard figure before the plastic was placed back between your lips.

“C’mon Y/N. Please breathe.”

You did what the voice said, doing your best to breathe in when it told you to.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the ache in your chest started to subside. Opening your eyes, you took in Carlisle’s relieved face. Your father was kneeling in front of you with one hand cupping your cheek, the other holding your inhaler to your mouth, giving puffs every sixty seconds.

“There you are.” He whispered.

Looking around, you noticed your back was against Emmett’s chest, his hands on your neck and forehead trying to cool you off. Edward was kneeling beside you, your shaky hand held firmly in his own. Behind him stood Bella, worry evident on her features. On your other side, a few feet away, on the edge of the treaty line, were the wolves, all in varying degrees of distress. Paul looked the worse out of all of them with tear streaks staining his cheeks.

“Breathe in,” Edward whispered.

You did as he said and Carlisle gave you another puff.

“Can you say something please?” Emmett begged after another moment, fear obvious in his voice.

In all your time with the Cullens, you had never heard Emmett sound that desperate before, and you felt guilty knowing you caused it. You swallowed hard, throat raw, “I-I’m sorry.”

You spoke at a barely audible level, but that didn’t stop the supernatural creatures around you from letting out huffs of relief.

“You have nothing to apologize for darling.” Carlisle’s thumb wiped away your tears.

“Your inhaler fell out in my car. You couldn’t have done anything.” Edward informed you, lightly squeezing your hand.

“It’s not your fault Y/N. It’s mine, I’m so sorry.” Paul apologized from across the invisible line.

Growls emanated from your brothers, their dark eyes trained on the shifter. You could feel the tension between your brothers and the wolves, but Carlisle was quick to stop anything from getting out of hand.

Handing the inhaler to Edward, Carlisle stood up and headed towards the wolves. Their conversation was quiet and short, Carlisle no doubt expressing his gratitude towards Jacob for getting you to your family so fast and then telling Sam that he’d send you with an extra inhaler to keep at his house next time you visit the reservation.

You looked at your brothers in confusion when they softly chuckled at something Sam had said. Turning around, Edward looked at Bella, “Giving commands to pack alphas now, huh?”

“Badass,” Emmett smirked.

“She’s family,” Bella said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You went to speak when another round of unforgiving coughs racked your body. A whimper escaped your lips at the agony that accompanied it. Carlisle was in front of you in an instant. Edward gave you another puff, your hands still too shaky and weak to hold the inhaler on your own.

“I want to go home.” You whispered as tears fell down your cheeks.

Emmett pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before gently standing up, taking you with him. You looked over his shoulder and gave a feeble wave bye to the wolves, who returned your wave with soft smiles and small waves of their own.

Carlisle opened the door to Edward’s Volvo for Emmett and you while Edward started his car, and Bella took the passenger seat. He made sure you were comfortable before closing the door and speeding over to sit in the backseat with you. Edward toed the line between safely speeding and recklessly driving as he expertly swerved through the winding roads.

Sat cradled in Emmett’s lap, coughs continued to plague you. They weren’t as bad as earlier, but they still hurt.

“Esme, Rose, Jazz, and Alice already have your breathing treatment and anything you could possibly need set up and on hand. You’re safe. Everything is going to be okay.” Emmett muttered, saying the last part for both your benefit and his.

It wasn’t long before Edward pulled up to your family home. The car door was yanked open and you were taken into Jasper’s arms who sped you into the living room. He set you gently on the couch, handing you the mouthpiece of your breathing treatment before clicking it on.

Looking around at your family, you couldn’t help the fall of fresh tears.

“Oh, honey,” Esme muttered before taking the spot on your right, tucking you into her side. Carlisle positioned himself on your other side, rubbing your back.

You couldn’t help the thoughts and feelings that plagued you as you looked upon your perfect family.

You’re a burden. A hassle to be around. They shouldn’t have to worry about a weak human like you.

Before you could begin spiraling to a truly dark place, Edward broke the silence, “Don’t think like that,” Your eyes locked with his, “You aren't a burden and neither is your illness or humanity. You’re our family, and nothing will change that. We love you.”

Your siblings echoed his remarks, and Esme squeezed you closer, kissing your temple. “You brought a light into our family that wasn’t there before. No illness is going to change the fact that you have blessed this family, and if you don’t believe me, then I’ll just have to convince you.”

“I love you mom,” You whispered, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. It was the first time you had called her that, and it was a moment that none of you would forget.

With a soft smile, you snuggled closer to your mom and attempted to fight the exhaustion that plagued your mind and body in order to finish your breathing treatment.

“Go to sleep Y/N. We aren’t leaving any time soon.” Jasper joked.

You nodded, and, with a little help from Jasper, you dozed off in your parent’s arms, the mouthpiece still between your lips.

You couldn’t have asked for a better family.

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Moirai [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 5.8k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.

This is the end. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices. Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling. His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins. The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story. “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!” The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together. “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.” “Guards!” Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—” “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—” “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading. “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.” “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear. Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler. But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now. That position has long been stolen away from her. “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—” The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding. Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities. Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her. The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth. Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her. Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places. Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her. Everything she did, it drove him away. Every act of love placed distance between them. Everything. Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?” “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.” The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away. And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision. “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!” There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade. But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy. ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇

Headbeams. Fuck. You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death. But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are. You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty— The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought. …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. . Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted. You have regrets. Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do. But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it. Death is the end. This is the end. ……. ….. ... .. . “—ook...t ...er...!” “..hush!” What? Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm? Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad. You open your eyes. Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you. Your mouth opens— “Waah!” What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin. In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes. Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck— You’re a baby. Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs. You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck! The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!” The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in. Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?” That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her. You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.” Wait. Say what now? Devereux? Why does that sound so familiar? You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?” “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?” “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia? Anastasia Devereux. You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was— Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances. You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux. You burst out crying again. // A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement. Your father. At least he’s supposed to be. “How is the child?” he asks the maid. “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.” He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you. What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked. Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options. And you’ve taken her place. But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness! Oh god. All you know now is that you don’t want to die. You died too early in your past life. “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.” Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face. Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids— “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!” “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.” Now that’s a big fat lie. You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself. Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.” “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.” “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.” Cordial laughter fills the room. Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever. But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice. You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach. Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants. Oops. The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches. The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit! “Edith!” Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?” “Take Anastasia.” She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel! “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude. The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.” Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen. Clearly, the bar is quite low. “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.” “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.” Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?” “Know what?” “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.” “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?” “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.” Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.” She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation. But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.” Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps. You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her. But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo. But you’re different. You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive. Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself. After all, no one else in this house will. You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile. But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.

Four years later. “Are you colouring, my lady?” “Nooo.” You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans. To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death. You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life. In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain. To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three! It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe— “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her. “Why?” “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.” “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands. “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.” You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body. “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well. The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance. The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can. “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into. And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking. It drives her crazy. But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly. Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself. But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks. Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal? “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!” Oh. Hell. Yeah! You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over— Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?” Wow. That’s cold. Stone cold. “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?” The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.” Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life. The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.” You nearly choke on your broccoli. But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?” “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again. It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth. Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince. “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose. You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly. “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods. “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—” The tutor drones on and on. But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world. “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?” “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—” You don’t know why you asked. “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again. “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.” You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?” There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here. Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived. “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.” You hum to yourself. // Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time. “Goodnight, my lady.” “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave. “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.” You giggle. “Bye bye.” The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress. You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows. The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive. Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly. After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure. You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow. Peeking with one eye open, there’s— Absolutely nothing. Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more. You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked! But it smothers out a blink later. You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap. It looks like you peed yourself. “Really?!” You sigh, ready to give up. Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all. You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop. Oh yeah. Dark magic exists. Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it. Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black. Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time. Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing. It’s trying to consume you. There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!” Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely. It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed. You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed. God knows you’re never going to try that again. // So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative. “I wanna do that!” Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside. Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?” “No!” The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?” “Uh-huh.” She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation. “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow. “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede. She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.” The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom. You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet. It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are. But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes! With that in mind, you throw open the doors. Joan, behind you, practically flinches. Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!” He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.” The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…” “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?” The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?” You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!” He stares at you. You stare at him. The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.” You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird. “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance. You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!” You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better. Why she did what she did. How she became the female villain. “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!” “Y-Yes, my lady.” You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things. In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes. And you’ll survive no matter what happens.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts series #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #man I wanna tag who the main member is bUT I DON'T WANNA SPOIL IT YET #anyway hope this is intriguing #this chapter gets the ball rolling #they'll be 8 chapters in total

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kerikaaria · 3 years

Text

Second Chance: Part 2

(Yoongi x reader) Short series, Hybrid!au, Hybrid!reader

Genre (whole fic): (PG15) Angst and fluff In this part: Fluff and angst

Warnings (whole fic): Mentions of euthanasia on hybrids, mentions of mistreatment and abuse (including PAST sexual)

WC: 13.1k

Description: As a rare predator hybrid, you are considered dangerous and your days left in this life are numbered—unless a human decides to take mercy on you and is willing to take you into their home. But after three years of having people walk past your window without paying you any attention, your hope of that happening has all but run dry. You just hope your brother can get out of here in time, even if you can’t.

A/N - Thank you to @suhdays, @birbdae, and @jeonsbun for beta-reading for me ^^

A/N - Just like in Part 1, there are a few times “N/n” is used to mean “nickname.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Come eat, Y/n. Hoseok said dinner is ready,” Seokjin gently said, trying to coax you into the kitchen where Hoseok was currently setting the table.

“We shouldn’t eat at the table with him,” you whispered. “And why do you keep calling him by his name?”

“Because he asked me to,” Jin said. “I know this must be hard for you to get used to, but we don’t need to follow those rules that our last Masters had.”

“Hybrids aren’t supposed to be equal to humans, Jinnie," you insisted. "You know that.”

Seokjin sighed. He had expected that you would have some pushback on this new lifestyle that the two of you could have with Hoseok; you were the one who suffered the most from your previous owners, afterall. But it had been four days since Hoseok adopted you and you still weren’t able to feel comfortable quite yet.

He had hoped that things being easy between you and Yoongi would have helped you not be so distant and had healed a lot of the damaging mindset you both had been taught and raised with. However, when he asked you about it in hushed words at night when the two of you lay in bed, he gathered from your responses that in your mind, Yoongi was a one-in-a-million exception that fit right alongside Jimin.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Hoseok said. “No need to push her. I’m sure she’ll come around when she's ready to.”

Hoseok handed Seokjin your plate, knowing that you would feel nervous if he got too close. That was a mistake he had made not too long after you woke up your first day here. He believed that you'd get used to him as easily as your brother did, and had very quickly been proven wrong. But he was more than willing to give you the time and space you needed to become more comfortable with him and in his home.

Seokjin walked into the living room with you, placing your plate on the coffee table in front of where you had come to designate as your spot on the couch. Once you sat down, you waited for Jin to sit next to you only to realize he didn't bring his own plate with him.

"Where's your plate, Jinnie?" you asked.

"I'm going to eat in the kitchen with Hoseok today," he carefully said.

You felt panic rise in your chest. "You're not eating with me?" you asked.

"You could eat with us if you'd like," Seokjin said, threading a hand through your hair to try to help calm you down. "I just want to eat with Hoseok today, okay?"

"But," your eyes nervously flitted between Jin's face and the table in the kitchen, visible from the couch through the open archway, where you could see your owner setting two plates down. It wasn't like you wanted to have a monopoly on Jin. You could easily see that he already had a connection with Hoseok despite your own hesitance to trust that he was completely different from the previous two owners you'd had just yet. But you just needed time to become comfortable, and Jin was your anchor and made you feel safe. No matter what, he was always there for you. He had always protected you to the best of his ability, would even take hits for you.

It was easy to sense your anxiousness, heightened senses letting Seokjin easily tell that your heart was speeding up. He felt really bad about doing this, knew it was going to be a bit of a difficult step to take, but he had to do it. The best way for you to understand that Hoseok was a good person would be to let you see for yourself that things were different.

"I'll be right there," Jin said in a soft voice, pointing at the table. "You can come with me if you want, but if not you will still be able to see me. I promise it'll be okay."

You still looked nervous, but he could see the gears in your head working as the physical signs of your anxiousness began to subside.

"I'm going to go in the kitchen now, okay?" he asked, sensing that it was probably safe to leave you but wanting to let you feel more in control of the situation by asking you instead of telling.

It took you a moment, but you softly nodded. Jin smoothed down your hair and placed a kiss on your forehead before retreating slowly, feeling your eyes on him as he walked away.

He was right. It wasn't like anything was going to happen to you while you sat here by yourself eating dinner. And you trusted him more than anything, so you knew that he wouldn't tell you that things were okay if they weren't. But out of all the people who you had encountered in your life, incredibly few were actually trustworthy.

How you had even attached to Yoongi so easily was a mystery to you, but you figured it had something to do with the fact that it was a rare instance that you got to be with your brother at the shelter, and for two years no one else had been even a little kind to you. Then in came Yoongi with that soft smile and sweet words, things you craved so much that you soaked it up like a sponge.

That wasn't to say that you felt Yoongi didn't deserve your trust. While you may not have believed he could do anything at the time, it was now impossible to ignore how much effort Yoongi put in to ensure that your last days weren't in that shelter. And in that same vein, a lot could have been said for Hoseok's case, since he was the one who hurried to the shelter last minute to adopt you barely in time. Seokjin had told you about why it took so long, and how everything had lined up just perfectly. If it had taken one more day for the license to go through, or if they had taken you to the vet just one day earlier, there would have been nothing Hoseok could have done for you. So it absolutely wasn't lost on you that Hoseok was obviously more caring than your past owners. Neither of them would have made any effort to save you how he had done. Well, maybe your second Master, but that would have only been because you were a popular favorite and made him money.

You stayed in the living room to eat, but watched your brother in the kitchen. Hoseok had sat right next to him and was easily engaging him in conversation as they ate, smiling and laughing. Seokjin looked so happy and comfortable with him.

You weren't sure how long it'd take you to let your protective walls come down, but if there was one thing you knew as you observed the two in the kitchen, it was that you wanted to feel as happy as Jin looked.

One thing you had surprisingly little trouble with since being adopted was sleeping. Sure, you woke up at least once a night in a sweat, memories of the other day and drugs running through your system haunting you. But your brother was always right there, already holding you tight and assuring you that you were safe. So when the nightmare left you alone, you were able to sleep the best that you had in years.

By the time you would stir awake, Hoseok was either just about to or had already left for work, leaving you and Jin in the house by yourselves. This was the time when you felt the most relaxed and comfortable ever since coming here. Getting to be with your brother, no wall keeping you separated, and not worrying about learning to be comfortable around Hoseok.

Although today, you couldn't help but feel a little restless as the two of you cuddled on the couch and watched a show on TV that Jin proclaimed as his favorite.

Ever since dinner last night, you couldn't help but feel unsettled. Torn between your instincts yelling at you not to relax around your owner—a human who is supposed to be above you—and your desire to trust and get close to him. You of course knew Jin would never lead you astray, but after the years spent in that place, the time living day by day on the street, and then how poorly the shelter treated you, your instincts were rather hard to ignore at this point.

But seeing your brother so carefree and relaxed last night made you crave to be the same, not remembering the last time you could truly be worry-free.

When the door to the house opened, your owner having arrived home from work, you felt yourself subconsciously stiffen. You tried to not let it show too much, actively trying to work against your pesky instincts in an effort to make sure Hoseok didn't feel as concerned about making you uncomfortable.

Seokjin's grip around you loosened as he prepared to greet Hoseok when he would inevitably come into the living room. He probably expected you to move away from him as you had every day prior, distancing yourself so that Hoseok could approach your brother. However, you stayed right where you were, fists clenched to try to hold in some of the tension you felt from the need to keep away and protect yourself.

As the human's footsteps approached the room, you silently reprimanded the thoughts that insisted that you needed to keep your distance, that Hoseok wasn't safe. You had no reason to think he wasn't. No, you knew he wasn't a danger to you. You had more than enough observations with how he treated Seokjin to back that up and you were going to fight through this.

You kept your eyes locked on your hands, gripping tightly to the fabric of your pants as Hoseok entered the room. Despite not looking up, you could hear that he stopped for just a moment before finishing his path to the couch, slower than he had been walking before.

"Welcome home," Jin said in a light voice that must have been punctuated by his smile.

"Thank you, hyung," Hoseok responded, now standing next to the couch you were both sitting on. The light chuff from Jin let you know that his ears were receiving attention in greeting. “Did you guys have a nice day?”

“We did,” Seokjin responded, sounding a little sleepy. Both of you were huge suckers for physical affection.

When Jin leaned back toward you as he relaxed into the comfort of Hoseok's attention, you lifted your head up enough to see the smile that sat on your owner's face while he stared at Jin. Just a moment later his gaze flitted to you, and while his eyes widened from having not expected to meet your own, his smile didn't falter at all. In fact, it seemed to become even softer.

"Hi, noona," he greeted.

Your instincts were still screaming at you in your head, but you urged them as far back as you could to respond. "H-Hello," you said in a very quiet voice.

Hoseok's smile widened once more, thrilled that you were talking directly to him for what was probably the very first time.

"What did you do today?" he asked, still looking at you.

You glanced at your brother when he lifted away from you, Hoseok no longer petting him. Jin gave you a slight nod, encouraging you to answer.

"We- we mostly just watched TV," you replied.

“Oh?” Hoseok responded. “Is it that crime show that Jin says is his favorite?”

You nodded in confirmation. “It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, it is,” Hoseok agreed. “What show is your favorite, Y/n?”

“U-um,” you felt flustered, not really having an answer. “I don’t r-really have a favorite ye-yet.” Starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, you partially hid behind Jin.

“We’ve pretty much just watched the shows I recommend,” Seokjin replied.

“Well, you should let her browse through the shows, too,” Hoseok said. “Let her find stuff she likes too.”

Jin nodded before turning to you. “Okay. You can find a show you want to watch tomorrow, N/n.”

“Okay,” you mumbled in response.

Hoseok gave another smile before backing away a bit. “I’m going to go get comfortable and then make dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Jin said, smiling back at him.

When Hoseok was out of the room, you relaxed. You were still feeling really nervous, but you could swear that you felt just slightly less anxious about Hoseok now.

Jin turned slightly to engulf you in his arms, tucking his head into your neck. “That was really good, N/n. I’m proud of you for doing such a good job.”

“It was hard,” you mumbled into his hair.

“I know,” he said. “But you still tried your best and you did so, so good. I’m so happy you’re trying.”

You chuffed, feeling proud that you made your brother happy. The two of you sat on the couch snuggling for a moment before Hoseok came out of his room, on the phone.

“I’d love to say yes,” you heard him say to the person on the other line, “but I don’t know if it’s a good idea, especially to bring Jungkook.”

You turned to look at him, cocking your head to the side in curiosity of what he was talking about. Jin followed your actions as well.

“You know how I adopted two hybrids recently?” Hoseok asked, quieter. Probably trying to keep you guys from hearing, or at least paying attention. But he’d have to be in another room behind a closed door for you not to hear with your strong senses. “One of them is still anxious at home, not used to me yet. I don’t think another human and his hybrid being in the house would be a good idea for her.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little warm at the idea that Hoseok was concerned about your comfort. Yet again confirming what your instincts were still having trouble accepting.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” Both you and Jin perked up when you heard the name. “Maybe I could come over there? They’re brother and sister and are fine being alone together in the house, so it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Jimin?” you asked, bringing Hoseok’s attention your way. That name was most definitely familiar to you.

“Oh. Yeah, Jimin is my friend,” he said to you.

“What’s Jimin’s last name?” Jin asked.

“Park,” Hoseok answered easily. “Why?”

You felt excited, and sensed that Jin was too.

“Have you told him our names?” your brother asked.

“No, I haven’t.” Hoseok looked a bit confused, but mostly curious now. “Why all the questions?”

“Tell him our names,” you said. “Please?”

He was most definitely primarily confused now, but still did as you asked. “Um, they’re asking me to tell you their names. I’m not sure why. But uh, the hybrids I adopted are called Seokjin and Y/n.”

He was silent for a moment while he listened to the Jimin on the other line, his brows furrowing at the response. “Yeah. I don’t think I mentioned their species to you before. How did you know that?” He pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, cringing. Jimin on the other end was loud enough that you could hear him, but not quite what he was saying. “He wants me to put him on speaker,” Hoseok said, now talking to the two of you. “Is that okay?”

You quickly nodded, excited that maybe your suspicion was right, while Jin vocalized the affirmation.

Hoseok followed directions once more, holding the phone in front of him. “Okay, you’re on speaker now.”

“Jin-hyung? Y/n-noona?” Jimin’s voice came through the phone. It was definitely more mature than the last time you had heard it and distorted through the device, but there was no mistaking that that was your Jimin.

“Minnie?” you responded.

“Oh my gosh, is it really you guys?” Jimin asked.

“Yes,” Jin responded for you. “Yes, it’s us. And we know it’s you, we’d recognize your voice anywhere.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jimin breathed out, a light laugh sitting on his voice. “What are the chances?”

“Okay, anyone want to fill me in here?” Hoseok asked, eyebrows raised.

“Hyung, you remember the hybrids I told you about when we were kids?” Jimin asked Hoseok. “The brother and sister tiger hybrids that I grew up with? Their names were Seokjin and Y/n.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “The ones that your parents sold when we were teens?”

“Yes,” Jimin confirmed. “I can’t believe this. I know the chances of this being a different sibling pair of tiger hybrids with the same names are basically impossible, but Hobi hyung can you turn on video? If they’re okay with it. I just- I need to see it with my own eyes.”

Hoseok looked to the two of you for permission, which you both easily gave. “Would you use your video too?” Jin asked.

“Of course,” Jimin responded.

Hoseok obeyed once more, adding video to the call and turning the phone around so you could see the screen. A moment later, an older version of a familiar face appeared, smiling brightly.

“It really is you guys,” Jimin said. “I can’t- Oh my gosh. I have to come over now. Can I?”

“Yes!” you immediately responded.

You heard a voice in the background of Jimin’s end of the call. “Hyung?” he said. “You seem really happy.”

“I am, Kookie,” Jimin answered, turning to the source of the voice off camera. “The hybrids Hobi hyung adopted are the ones that I grew up with. That my parents sold before they got you.”

“Seriously?” the voice asked, sounding a little bit closer.

“Yeah,” Jimin said before turning back to the phone. “Guys, if I come over, is it okay if I bring Kookie? He’s my hybrid. He’s a German Shepherd, but I promise he’s friendly. He won’t cause fights or anything. He knows that place is your territory and won’t try challenging you or anything. I’d really like for you guys to meet him if you are okay with that.”

You looked to Jin to see what he thought, and when he met your gaze and smiled, you knew that both of you were okay with that. “Yeah, that’s fine,” you said. “We’d love to meet him. I’m so excited to see you again, Minnie.”

“I’m really excited too!” he exclaimed.

“Well, looks like we’re having a reunion at my house,” Hoseok chuckled. “Alright guys, sorry but I really should get to making dinner now. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, Jimin.”

“See you guys tomorrow!” Jimin said cheerfully, waving at the screen before the call ended.

You couldn’t wait.

Hoseok informed you later that he and Jimin worked together, and that after a quick stop home to pick up Jungkook, he’d be here not too long after Hoseok got home himself. You didn’t have enough courage to sit at the table with Hoseok and Jin for dinner, but you did feel just a tad more comfortable than the previous day. Especially when your mind was on tomorrow.

You and Jin could hardly contain your excitement over being reunited with Jimin after so many years. The two of you spent the day using that energy to clean up around the house, making sure it was perfect for your special guest. Hoseok was a very organized person, so it wasn’t like the house was by any means a mess. But between the two of you, you made sure that there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere and everything was perfectly in its place.

When Hoseok got home, he was surprised to see the two of you running around the house, ensuring last minute that you hadn’t missed anything. He chuckled to himself, giving Jin his usual greeting pet as he passed him in the hallway, and throwing a smile your way which you easily returned. You were way too excited to be anxious about being around Hoseok today.

It felt like an eternity, but was really only about fifteen minutes later that there was a knock at the door. Jin held your hand, keeping either of you from rushing to the door and overwhelming the hybrid that you could already smell on the other side. Hoseok calmly approached the door to let them in himself.

Your tail twitched behind you, unable to contain your nerves at seeing your first friend, the first human you ever trusted, after you had thought you’d never see him again when his parents sold you years ago.

As soon as the door opened, you could see Jimin searching around to find you, a smile brightening his face once he did. You were just about to rush to envelop him in a hug, wanting to scent him in an expression of how much you missed him, how happy you were to be able to see him again, when the scent hit you.

The scent that let you know that Jimin was mated, that another hybrid had lay their claim on him. Being able to smell without the interference of a wall between you, it was quickly obvious that it was the hybrid Jimin brought with him who had mated him. Jin hesitated beside you as well, both of you unsure if you were allowed to express any kind of affection toward him with his hybrid mate there.

But the worry was quickly dissolved when Jimin made his way right over to you and pulled both of you into a tight hug, saying “I missed you guys so much.”

You eyed the dog hybrid who slowly approached the three of you, making sure he didn’t show any signs of aggression before making any moves. But when he shyly smiled back, you knew that at least this level of affection was considered fine and relaxed into Jimin’s hold, still being careful not to scent.

“We thought we’d never see you again,” Jin said.

“I know, me too,” Jimin replied, his grip tightening just a bit before releasing. When he pulled back, you could see tears starting to pool in his eyes. “I was so worried when my parents said they sold you guys. I had no idea who bought you or what happened to you. But I guess I didn’t really need to worry.”

You smiled tightly, not wanting to make him upset, but not being able to recall your second owner without a shiver running down your spine.

Behind Jimin, the hybrid cleared his throat.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Kookie,” Jimin said, moving away from you and Seokjin. “This is my hybrid, Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Seokjin-hyung and Y/n-noona.”

Jimin linked his arm through Jungkook’s as the hybrid bowed slightly. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Jimin-hyung.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jungkook,” you said, smiling as you took a good look at him. He was tall, almost as tall as Jin, and looked really strong. You could tell that Jimin felt safe with him, and were curious to learn more about the two of them. You remembered from the call yesterday Jimin said something about his parents buying Jungkook, but he was clearly now Jimin’s hybrid and mate and there were a lot of questions left in the middle for you. Particularly about his parents.

Your little group followed Hoseok into the living room when he suggested that you all sit in there to chat. Jimin sat down first, and you were kind of shocked to see Jungkook go to sit at the loveseat instead of on the couch right next to his mate. You looked at the empty spot on the couch, tail twitching as you contemplated if you should sit there.

“You guys should sit with Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook said when both you and Seokjin hesitated. “I can tell how much you guys miss him.”

“But, you’re-” Jin started, but stopped when Jungkook shook his head.

“It’s fine,” the dog hybrid said. “I know I can trust you guys with him.”

You looked back to Jimin, who reached out for your hand, gently guiding you to sit next to him. “It’s okay,” he said. “He’s not very territorial.” He reached out to Jin as well. “Protective, sure. But he knows that you guys were like family to me, and trusts me to have good judgement, too.”

Hoseok sat on the loveseat with Jungkook, the hybrid snuggling into his arm. You felt all of the tension from being worried about overstepping dissipate due to both Jimin’s words and seeing how easygoing Jungkook seemed. You relaxed into Jimin’s side, letting out a happy chuff at smelling his familiar scent.

“What’s the story with you and Jungkook?” Seokjin asked first. His posture on the other side of Jimin resembled yours.

“My parents adopted him not too long after they sold you guys,” Jimin said, reaching his hands up to run through your hair and scratching at the base of your ears. “I was so mad at them when I found out about you. I hoped you knew that I had no clue. If I did, I would have fought them tooth and nail not to do it. And if I failed, I at least would have made sure to say goodbye to you. But I didn’t even get to do that, and I was so angry. It had been about six months or so of me being a moody teenager and hanging that over their heads before they decided that getting a new hybrid would settle me down.”

“They also thought that getting a ‘guard dog’”—Jungkook used a hand to make air quotes around the phrase—“would help keep him in line. But I’m not really aggressive at all, never have been. I knew other German Shepherds that were, but I’ve just always channeled that part of me into protecting people I care about.”

“They still treated him pretty much the same way they did you guys,” Jimin continued. “Like he was some kind of servant, but then a glorified pet whenever it suited them. Showed him off to their friends and ordered him around all the time. They asked him to do things he was uncomfortable with, too. Treated him like a showpiece sometimes. By that point, you know I was a teen, so I had understood more of what was going on and was able to keep them from being too harsh, but I knew that as soon as I left for college I couldn’t help him anymore.”

You curled further into Jimin’s side, remembering your own time at the Park’s. They had adopted you and Seokjin when you were around 9 years old and Jimin was 6. Jimin was fascinated by the two of you at first, but he never treated you poorly. He always wanted to play with you and acted like you were his real siblings.

But his parents had different ideas. They gave you a small room to share, hardly bigger than a closet. You didn’t even get offered a larger room as you got older, despite the fact that there were plenty of rooms in their big house that weren’t being used. They would let it go for the first few years when they’d catch you playing with Jimin here and there, but as you all got older you’d get scolded more and more for it.

When they had events to go to or friends came to visit them, they’d show you off and you were expected to stay silent and listen to everything they asked of you the whole time. If you acted out or disobeyed even a little, the punishments would be worse than any others. And when you were at home, you were expected to spend the day cleaning. They had some hired help, primarily a cook and gardener. But as for anything in regard to cleaning, that was something you two were expected to do as soon as you were adopted.

Jin had always been a little taller than you, but at that age it was rather dumb to expect your little legs and arms to be able to reach the high-up shelves or cabinets that needed cleaning. You’d climb on each other’s shoulders to reach those spots once you learned that even that was expected of you.

So they didn’t exactly treat you the best. As Jimin said they expected of Jungkook as well, you were like servants at home and glorified pets to show off outside of the house or with their friends. But it took Jimin quite a few years to realize how his parents had treated you, having been quite young even compared to you when you were adopted. Once he did realize, he felt terrible and he really did try to help you out, but he could really only do so much.

Then, when they felt like you were being too much of a bad influence on their son and no longer had any use for you, they got rid of you. Didn’t care who took you off their hands as long as they were paid well. The two of you were just barely 17 when that happened, Jimin only 14 years old.

Despite not liking how his parents treated you, Jimin was always wonderful. He’d always been sweet, enjoyed spending time with you both, and treated you just like he would have any other friends or family. It may not have been perfect, but that was still the best place you had lived in your lives, at least before Hoseok adopted you.

“Jungkook and I…” Jimin started, seeming to think hard about his words. “He was when I realized I liked boys. I didn’t really notice before then, or care to, I guess. And it wasn’t like it happened right away, but after a while I realized that I cared about him differently than how I cared about you guys. I knew my parents would be mad, so I kept it a secret. Jungkook was shy about it at first, but he said he was able to tell because of my scent that I had… less than platonic feelings for him. But he felt the same so we would sneak kisses and hold hands when we were alone.” Jimin smiled at the memories.

“I tried convincing my parents to let Jungkook come with me when I went to college, but they refused,” Jimin continued. “I was able to stall going for a year, and then before I went the following year, Jungkook and I decided that I should be his mate. It was a little drastic at the time, and ideally I probably would have wanted to wait a little longer before dedicating myself to one person like that, but I was desperate. I had heard my parents planning to sell him, and we just couldn’t handle the thought of being separated. So, he marked me as his mate, and then they had no choice but to let him come with me.”

That was one of the other hybrid laws that had been passed – that a hybrid and their mate couldn’t be forced to separate if it was consensual on both ends. It was really a great law overall, but there were times when people attempted to abuse it and the cases had to be investigated. Sometimes, a human would force a hybrid to mate with them to not allow them to leave. But those usually end up happening when the human was already at risk of losing the hybrid so the cases were easily taken care of and tended to work in the hybrid’s favor more often than not.

Being separated from a mate for a long time could be difficult for a hybrid, causing their instincts to scream to be with them and making them distressed. But, if a hybrid ended up being mated to someone they didn’t care about or that they felt unsafe with, survival instincts would override their mating ones and they wouldn’t have an issue staying away. So in the cases when humans attempted to abuse the law, the hybrid wouldn’t have any problem staying away from them, and eventually the mate bond would dissolve and they could start a new one if they ever wished to.

“It didn’t really go over that well,” Jungkook chimed in. “They were so mad. Well, not so much mad as disgusted with us. They called Jimin all these names, and I- well, I’m just glad I have a lot of self-control because I really felt like clawing their faces off when I heard them insulting him and our relationship. And then they told him that he wasn’t their son anymore.”

Jimin nodded solemnly, grip in your hair tightening a little. “And they really weren’t lying. They refused to give me any money or help and told me ‘Good luck succeeding on your own.’ Luckily for me, my first year of college was already paid for, including an apartment near the campus for me. They couldn’t take it back, so I still got to start and I just made sure to get a job and started saving up so I could keep going. And I really did have good luck. Still got a great education and started up my own business with Hobi hyung that’s doing really well. Plus, I have Jungkook with me.”

During the pause that followed, Jin quietly asked, “Do you regret it?”

Jimin turned to him, brows furrowed. “Regret what? Mating with Jungkook?”

Jin flattened his ears as he glanced at the dog hybrid before gently nodding.

“Not at all,” Jimin answered without hesitation. “It may have been a bit early to do it at the time, but I love Jungkook with all my heart and if we hadn’t done it then, we still would have years ago. We just didn’t really have much of a choice, if we wanted to stay together.”

“But then your parents still tried tearing us apart,” Jungkook said, burrowing into Hoseok’s shoulder for comfort as his scent soured in distress over whatever memories were coming to mind.

“Come here, baby,” Jimin said to Jungkook, reaching an arm out toward him. Jungkook uncurled from Hoseok’s side, approaching the couch. You moved to the side a bit to give room for Jungkook before Jimin pulled him into his lap. “The important thing is that they couldn’t.”

“What happened?” you tentatively asked.

“They submitted a report saying that I forced him to mate me,” Jimin said. Jungkook looked small as he tucked himself further into Jimin’s embrace. “In all honesty, I had wanted to try to look for the two of you, see what happened to you and maybe adopt you if I could. But once a report like that enters the system, it takes a long time to no longer affect your record. They investigated and of course came to the conclusion that it was consensual and we were happy together, but even to this day, that mark against my record still prohibits me from looking into adopting any other hybrids.”

“The good thing that came out of it is that your parents ended up getting blacklisted themselves,” Jungkook said, a smile stretching on his face. “We submitted counterclaims about how they treated me, and Jimin’s accounts of how you two had been treated before. What really caught their eye from that was the fact that when they sold you, it wasn’t a legal transaction. The name they transferred you to on your files was an alias and there was no way to track it. They should have done it through the official system to ensure that didn’t happen. So that on top of our accounts of how they treated me and you two, they’re not allowed to do anything related to hybrids ever again.”

You felt relieved at that knowledge. While you knew from personal experience that there were far worse people out there, they still weren’t people who should have hybrids.

“Which is one of the reasons why I’ve been worried about what happened to you guys after they sold you,” Jimin said, frowning. “They said that it was mostly people involved in black markets and who don’t treat hybrids well that hid themselves in those kinds of transactions and with aliases. And especially with your breed, they didn’t like the look of it. But after my case was done they couldn’t keep me informed and I could never look into it myself.”

You inched a bit closer to Jimin, nervous of touching too much with Jungkook right there, but couldn’t help wanting the comfort. When Jungkook gave no sign of wanting you to stay away, you snuggled into Jimin’s arm, releasing just a bit of your scent but not too much to let it linger on him.

Jungkook straightened up a bit, and you flinched, concerned that you did cross a line. But instead of being defensive, he looked at you concerned. “You smell distressed,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin looked at you, then turned to Jin who must have had a similar expression to you. “Hyung? Noona?” Jimin asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It was a black market,” your brother mumbled into Jimin’s shirt. “He wasn’t a good person.”

You instantly felt both Jimin and Jungkook tense up, while Hoseok’s scent turned bitter as well. Everyone remained silent for a moment, the others in the room processing the new information.

“What-” Hoseok was the one to finally speak the question they were all curious about. “What did they do?”

“Was a Hybrid House,” you said in a small voice. Jimin let go of Jungkook and wrapped an arm each around you and Seokjin, holding you as tightly as he could. “We were there for a while. Not sure how long, though. Days blended together a lot. I guess it was about three or four years before we managed to escape.”

“House?” Jungkook asked, getting off Jimin’s lap so he could look at you all more clearly. “What’s a Hybrid House?”

“It’s not a good place,” Hoseok answered. “I have never been to one, and never will be. But I’ve heard about them. It’s-” you could feel his gaze on you and Jin before he breathed deeply and continued. “It’s a place where people will pay to receive… certain services from hybrids.”

“Certain servi-” Jungkook started, before his face lit up in realization. “Oh.” He turned back to the three of you, now snuggled even closer together on the couch, sadness tainting his scent. “Oh my gosh.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin assured him, tucking in closer to him. “At the very least, we still had each other. We were put in the same room together and we took care of each other.”

A heavy silence hung in the room for a few long moments before Jimin asked, “How did you get out?”

“They forgot to lock the door one night,” you said. “Jinnie was the one who noticed. So when we knew they were all asleep, we snuck out.”

“We almost got caught, too,” Jin added. “But even though we weren’t in the best of shape, there was no way they could catch up to two tiger hybrids.”

“We were living on the street for a little while before Hybrid Patrol picked us up and sent us to that shelter,” you added. “Probably about half a year?” You glanced over to Jin, asking for confirmation.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he confirmed. “No way to know for sure since we didn’t exactly have a way of keeping track of time.”

“And then you were in the shelter for three years,” Hoseok supplied.

Jin nodded. “And now we’re here. And Hoseok is really amazing, and now we even get to see you again, Jimin. This is the happiest I’ve ever been.” Both you and Jin chuffed happily at his words.

You could feel Jimin smile as the tension in the room started dissipating. “Hobi hyung said something about one of you still being uncomfortable?”

“Oh.” Jin sat a little straighter. “It’s Y/n. But don’t blame her, she’s been through so much.”

“The both of you have,” Jimin supplied.

“I mean yeah, but she had it even worse,” Jin insisted. “There was nothing I could do to help her when-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interjected quickly, throwing Jin a look that told him you didn’t want him to continue. It already haunted you enough every day and in your nightmares, but there was nothing anyone could do so you didn’t want them to feel any worse for you about it.

But that definitely didn’t stop the rest from being curious.

“What happened, noona?” Jimin gently asked you.

You just hid your face in his shoulder, shaking your head. “It’s personal,” you said.

Jimin sighed, but said, “Okay,” as he brought his other arm around to fully engulf you in a hug.

Being fully embraced, you instinctively started to scent Jimin, but quickly stopped in your tracks, the scent of him being mated reminding you it was a bad idea.

But then, “If it makes you more comfortable, it’s okay to scent him, noona,” Jungkook offered. “I don’t mind, really. I know you’re not trying to claim him, and to be honest your and hyung’s scents are really nice.”

You didn’t question his permission, taking that as more than enough reason to relax and scent Jimin like you wanted to ever since he stood at the doorway.

“I’m trying, though,” you mumbled.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Jimin asked.

“I’m trying to do better with Hoseok,” you said, slightly turning to glance at him. “It’s just that, I kind of learned that hybrids are below their owners and I am naturally afraid of people after everything. But I know he’s not a bad person. Jinnie wouldn’t be so comfortable with him, and he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to save me if he wasn’t. So I’m trying to do better.”

“She opened up a little more yesterday,” Hoseok said, smiling. “We had our first proper conversation. It was short, but it made me really happy.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jimin said.

You nodded. “And now I know that you’re friends,” you said. “I don’t feel nervous at all right now with you around.”

Jimin giggled a little at that. “I’m glad to know. Maybe I can come around more often, then? If it’ll help you open up with Hobi hyung more.”

“Maybe,” Hoseok said. “I’m sure they’d really like to see you more, with your history. I still find it amazing that the hybrids I adopted ended up being the same ones you would tell me about when we were kids, though,” he laughed.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?” Jimin said.

Jin had been looking to be in thought for a little bit, and suddenly he spoke up. “If people she’s comfortable with help, then maybe we could see if Yoongi could come over too?”

You perked up at that, sitting up straighter.

“I think she likes that idea,” Jungkook chuckled.

“I could give him a call,” Hoseok offered. “See if he could come by one day. I’m sure he’d like to see how you guys are doing after everything he did for you.”

“Who’s Yoongi?” Jimin asked.

“He’s a worker from the shelter,” Hoseok responded. “From what Jin-hyung has told me, he was always really nice to them. And he also did a lot to make sure noona was safe, and that I got there to adopt her in time.”

“In time?” Jimin asked. “What happened?”

So you talked about some of your time at the shelter. About the employees who were rude and harsh with you. Yoongi who was a blessing in such a dark place. When Hoseok came to adopt Seokjin. When your date was moved up and Yoongi quickly worked to make sure they didn’t harm you.

Jimin and Jungkook were obviously sad to hear about how difficult of a time it was for you, but whenever you or Jin talked about Yoongi they smiled. Jimin commented about how kind he seemed and how glad he was that you had him there to help you through at least some of it. And more than anything, he was glad that you two were now safe, had a good home and a kind owner who he knew would take good care of you.

Jungkook was really sweet, as well. After you finished talking about the past, he started chatting a bit more. He was a little goofy and had an interesting sense of humor, and was really nice. It was a little surprising that he was so comfortable around two predator hybrids in what was technically their territory, but you had a feeling it had something to do with how at ease Jimin was with the two of you.

Jimin and Jungkook were obviously so happy with each other. When you and Seokjin had scented Jimin enough to make you feel better about missing him for so long and finally separated from his side later that evening, Jungkook remained glued to him. He seemed to be a bit careful to not completely cover up your scents, knowing that it was more of a family or pack thing for the two of you than anything else, but he most definitely became much more touchy with him.

Jungkook was really such a considerate mate. Especially with certain hybrid breeds, you would expect them to be very territorial and not like other hybrids’ scents on their mate no matter what. But probably from years of stories about how close Jimin was with you and Seokjin, he must have understood that there was no threat with you and accepted that you were essentially family, regardless if you had officially met prior to today.

With the comfort and ease of being reunited with Jimin, on top of Jungkook’s hospitality, you really did find it much easier to be more open with Hoseok. You all ate dinner at the table together, and at one point you had even sat next to Hoseok on the couch. You were all snuggled out then, so you didn’t look for any affection. And while he wasn’t tense or uncomfortable, he didn’t attempt to give you any either, probably wanting to make sure to not breach your boundaries.

Hoseok also contacted Yoongi in the evening, asking if he’d like to stop by sometime soon to see you and Seokjin. He had taken a while to respond back, but when he did you were thrilled for Hoseok to let you know that he said he’d love to stop by soon.

Despite digging into the parts of your past that you try not to think too hard about, today was easily the best day you’d had in so, so long. You had your brother, Jimin who you considered family and his mate, and your new kind owner all with you. Almost everyone who was family was there. It would have been perfect if only Yoongi was there, too.

Well, almost perfect. But you had accepted a while ago that the last three family you wished could be there were probably lost to you forever, no matter how much you craved to hold them in your arms.

After that day, you did find yourself opening up with Hoseok even more quickly. It was only two days later that you let him pet you for the first time. The following day when you unintentionally chuffed happily when he did it again. And by now, all three of you ate at the table together with no fuss or issues.

You found yourself feeling so much more relaxed at home, and it made you a lot happier. But, you still couldn’t ignore that you missed Yoongi a lot. Something about being apart from him for what was two weeks now was really getting to you, almost like a piece of yourself was missing.

You were also starting to feel really achy. You had mentioned it to Seokjin, and he said he’d been feeling the same. He figured at first that it was just him getting used to the new, actually comfortable bed, but it got a little worse every day. You thought maybe you should let Hoseok know, maybe something was wrong. But you didn’t want to impose on him, making him spend money on a hybrid vet for you.

Today the aches were really bad so you decided to take a nap, hoping you would feel better after some rest. You rarely took naps, usually just slept at night with your brother. But he wasn’t tired, so you napped by yourself while he was no doubt watching some show on TV as usual. When his comforting presence was next to you while sleeping, you didn’t have nightmares as frequently so you tried not to sleep without him very much now that you had the chance to. But today, you just felt like you couldn’t avoid it.

Unsurprisingly, the nightmares came. The most haunting memory from your time spent at the Hybrid House was what your mind chose to torment you with this time.

While unexpected, you were given a gift that you wanted to keep oh so badly. But you knew that they wouldn’t let you. You knew that once the time was up and the gift had arrived, it’d be ripped away from you just as quickly. You hoped to at least hold them, get your scent on them even a little. But no, they didn’t even allow you that.

As soon as the three little miracles arrived, they were ripped away from you. Despite your exhaustion, your insides screamed, your mind recognizing they were in danger and that you needed to protect them. You yelled for the people to give them back, to please not take them away. You promised to take good care of them, they wouldn’t get in the way.

But alas, there was only one reason you were allowed to even go through with this. And it most certainly wasn’t so that you could keep them.

Just as you had when it happened, you screamed and thrashed around in your nightmare. Yelling for them to bring them back, that you needed them. That they needed you.

You were abruptly woken up from the nightmare, but still so high on your emotions and disoriented, you didn’t comprehend that you were no longer in that place.

“My cubs! Bring my cubs back!” you wailed, thrashing for another moment before your eyes registered your surroundings.

Your heart began to slow down, realizing that there were no threats around, that you had been merely dreaming. You looked around you, expecting the hand on your shoulder that shook you awake to belong to Seokjin as it usually was. But when you turned to look, it wasn’t him that had woken you from your agitated dream state.

It was Yoongi.

Your eyes widened, realizing that he had heard you cry about cubs, and fear welled in you over the questions that were bound to come.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” he said, voice calm as he pulled you closer to him in a gentle but protective embrace. “You’re safe, no one is hurting you.”

“Wha-what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I had let Hoseok know earlier that I was able to come by today and he said that was fine,” Yoongi responded. “I’m sorry for shocking you. I guess he didn’t get to tell you.”

You breathed in his warm earthy scent that you had missed so much, letting it wash over you and calm you down. You let your senses fill with nothing but Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi, nearly forgetting about the memory you had just relived.

After a few minutes when Yoongi could tell you had calmed down enough, Yoongi loosened his grip enough to look you in the face. “What was your nightmare about?” he asked, his low timbre soft and relaxing. “You said something about cubs?”

You tensed back up a little, knowing you didn’t really have a way out of this. You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He ran one of his hands through your hair, scratching at the spot behind your ears that he knew would soothe and keep you relaxed.

You turned your head to hide your face in his chest again, unsure of how you wanted to answer.

Just a moment later, you heard someone else walk into the room, Seokjin’s citrus scent reaching your nose. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” Yoongi responded. “She was definitely having a nightmare, but”- he hesitated for a brief moment –“she said something about… cubs? Do you know anything about that, hyung?”

You tilted your head up to look at your brother, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. You hesitated still, so he remained silent as well.

Yoongi hummed. “Okay. I understand, it’s something that must be a sensitive topic, and based on the subject I don’t doubt it is. I won’t force you to talk about anything.” He let out a breath as he thought. “But I want you to know that if there’s something wrong, I might be able to help you. I understand if you don’t want to talk, but if you do then maybe it’s something I can help with.”

“Help?” Seokjin asked in a soft voice. “What do you mean help?”

“I came here because yes, I did want to see you guys and how you were doing,” Yoongi said, “but I also had something I wanted to tell you. I couldn’t risk saying anything while you were at the shelter, and had to make sure I could trust Hoseok first as well, but I’m positive that I can so now I wanted to explain something to you. Let me do that first, okay?” He turned back to you. “Then, if you decide after that that you want to tell me about your nightmare, then you can. But only if you want. Sounds good?”

You thought for a moment, eyes still on your brother who tightly smiled at you, before nodding.

“Okay,” Yoongi said. “How about we go out to the living room? I want to say this to Hoseok as well.”

You moved to stand up, Yoongi holding onto your hand to support you along the way, and Jin joining your other side with a hand on your back as you began walking out of the room.

“Is everything okay?” Hoseok asked, a concerned look on his face and standing up as you entered the living room.

“She had a nightmare,” Yoongi said, thankfully vaguely. “She’ll be fine.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Hoseok asked.

“Most nights,” Jin answered. “It’s not as bad now as before, when I’m there with her. But sometimes they are still bad.”

The three of you sat down together on the couch, your brother on one side of you and Yoongi on the other.

“But we’ll talk about that in a little bit, right noona?” Yoongi asked, hand returning to its place by your ears. You nodded in response. “I have something I actually wanted to talk to you about today,” Yoongi said.

“Oh, okay,” Hoseok said. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you guys about my real job,” Yoongi said.

“Real job?” you asked. “What do you mean real job?”

He took in a breath before replying, “I don’t actually work for the shelter. I mean, I’m technically employed there, they think I work for them. But I don’t.”

Seokjin furrowed his eyebrows, expressing everyone’s confusion. “What do you mean you don’t work for them?”

“I’m there undercover,” Yoongi said. “My mission is to gather as much evidence as I can so that my real boss can submit a court case against the shelter and get it shut down.”

You were still pretty confused, but Hoseok seemed like he understood better than you, expression lighting up. “You mean, you work for one of those places that help hybrids? Like, rescue them from bad owners, shut down black markets and bad shelters, stuff like that?”

“Yes, exactly,” Yoongi confirmed. “Being in that place is absolute hell,” he said, rubbing his face. “I hate watching how they treat the hybrids there, and the people there are disgusting. Well, at least most of them. I think that the vet is being made to work there somehow based on what he said to me when I took Y/n there that day. And not everyone knows everything that goes on there. But I’m going to be so glad when I get enough evidence and don’t need to deal with those people anymore.”

“Oh, so you are there because you want to get them shut down?” you asked. “Because they’re bad?”

“Yes,” Yoongi said, turning to you. “That’s why I always seemed different than the others to you. Not every shelter is that bad, even the other ones that should be shut down as well. Most shelters have more people who are sympathetic and don’t treat hybrids like animals without even letting them be animals. But that one, it’s one of the worst in the region, and we’ve tried to get them shut down before but apparently didn’t have enough evidence to. So they sent me in to work from the inside and I’ve slowly been gathering evidence. You’d be surprised how hard it is to shut down these kinds of places. They need mountains of proof of abuse to even consider it.”

“So that’s why it’s taking so long then?” Seokjin supplied. “Because you’ve been there for at least a year.”

“Precisely. We think we almost have enough evidence. Once my boss tells me that I can get out of there, I’m booking it.”

“That explains why you worked so hard to make sure noona got out of there, too,” Hoseok added.

“No matter who it was, I would have tried my best to keep that from happening to them,” Yoongi answered. “But I won’t lie and say I didn’t develop a soft spot for Y/n.” He turned to you and smiled. “I call her my Daylily.”

You felt yourself blush at the admission. “I still don’t know what that means,” you mumbled.

“But I told you you’d have time to figure it out, didn’t I?”

You smiled, remembering how confident he was that you wouldn’t spend your last day in that shelter when you had given up all hope. “You did.”

“So, what I’m saying is that I work for a company that helps hybrids,” Yoongi summarized. He looked at you, conviction in his gaze. “If there’s hybrids in need then we want to help however we can. And if you know someone who needs help, I will do everything I can to see what we can do.”

You felt a lump in your throat. You knew what he was talking about. Your cubs. The cubs that you didn’t outright admit to having, but he must have been pretty sure exist after hearing you wake from your nightmare. Looking to your brother, you saw his eyes wide with hope, but he stayed silent, wanting you to take that first step to ask.

“My cubs,” you whispered, sure that it was quiet enough that Hoseok couldn’t hear. “You could find them?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi replied, rubbing comforting circles on your back with his hand. “I can’t say for sure, but I could let my team know that there are hybrid children in need. But if we’re going to look for them, I need you to give me as much information as possible.”

Your ears flattened to your head, unsure if you could talk about what happened. Looking to Jin for support, he offered you a soft smile and reached his hand out to grasp yours.

“Do you want me to tell him? And are you okay with Hoseok hearing?” Jin asked.

You bit your lip, anxious about anyone knowing at all, but knowing that it was best to tell them for the sake of your babies. You ultimately nodded, turning into your brother for comfort. This was something that you couldn’t get through without him.

He didn’t hesitate to pull you fully into his lap, you making yourself small as you tucked your legs in and hid your face in his neck, scenting him.

“We told Hoseok about this recently,” Jin started. “About our second owner. Where we were before we escaped and lived on the street for a bit. It was a Hybrid House.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock before his mouth downturned, sadness dulling his scent. “I always wondered,” he mumbled. “I never wanted to ask.”

“We had to have been there a few years before it happened,” Jin said. “We told them that Y/n couldn’t take any male patrons, that she was too close to her breeding cycle. But the guy requesting her was a regular and she was his favorite. He always requested her, and wouldn't take anyone else. And they didn’t want to turn him away, so they took her to the room. There were always things for protection provided in the rooms, but customers rarely used them. Y/n told me she even asked him to, told him she was too close, but he didn’t care. He…. He hit her for even suggesting it.”

You could feel both Yoongi and Hoseok gradually tensing up as your brother talked, the former scooting a little closer to you to place a hand on your knee comfortingly.

There were many unpleasant memories from your time there, but most of them blurred together. A bunch of people who didn’t care if they hurt you, people who liked odd things that you were uncomfortable with but had to do anyway. People who intentionally hurt you. But that day will always remain separate in your mind. That was the day that you were bred.

“A week later, I could smell that she was pregnant,” Seokjin said. “We were so scared. We knew from the small interactions with others at the House that if that ever happened, they didn’t let it finish. There was no way of hiding it, but trying to tell a hybrid that they weren’t allowed to keep their babies rarely ever went over well. We decided that it was better if we told them sooner rather than later, make sure that Y/n at least wouldn’t be at risk of getting as hurt.

“But,” Seokjin continued, sighing shakily, “when we told them, they decided they weren’t going to do that. That they’d let her have the babies because we’re a highly sought after breed. They wanted her to have the babies so that they could take them away from her as soon as they were born and sell them.” You couldn’t help the tear that fell when your brother said it like that.

“And what’s even more sick is-“ he paused, glancing at you before he said what he wanted to. You knew what he was thinking about, his rising anger obvious to you. You nodded, letting him know it was okay to say. “They advertised her for the fact that she was pregnant. It was a thing some of the patrons liked and wanted her for. Even when she was close to finishing her term, they didn’t care. They still had her working.”

The anger in the room wasn’t only coming from your brother anymore, but also the two humans. It didn’t necessarily scare you since your natural instincts were to fight back in the case of an aggressive threat, but it did make you feel insecure and you curled up further.

“And just as they promised, once she delivered the babies, they were taken from her,” Jin pushed out through clenched teeth. “They didn’t let her scent them, or even hold them before they took them from her. Just took them to sell them off as soon as possible.” Seokjin took in a shaky breath. “We don’t know what happened to them.”

“How many?” Yoongi gently asked.

“Three,” you replied. “Two boys and a girl.”

Yoongi nodded before looking into your eyes. “I’m so sorry they did that to you. Places like that shouldn’t even exist, and no one ever has any right to forcibly take someone’s child away from them.” He breathed deeply, seeming to gather his emotions before he spoke again. “If we’re going to have any chance of finding them, I’ll need to know a rough time frame of when this happened. Your files say when you were transferred to this second owner, and when you were picked up off the street. But anything in between isn’t going to be there. How long before you guys escaped did you have the cubs?”

You thought for a moment. “I want to say it was probably about two months?”

Jin nodded. “That sounds about right. And then we were on the street for probably six months or so.”

“Okay so about eight months before you would have been taken to the shelter,” Yoongi summarized. “I can work with that. I’m assuming that the person who bought you from your first family used a false name to stay hidden since he was involved in a black market. But with that information and with my team, we may be able to trace it back to who it was and where this House may have been.” He paused, squeezing your leg a little tighter where his hand rested. “Thank you for telling me all this,” he said. “I promise that we’ll try to find them.”

“You will?” you asked, feeling emotional. Was it possible that you could really see your cubs again?

“I promise we’ll do our best,” Yoongi said.

You leapt out of Jin’s lap and into Yoongi’s, wrapping your arms around him tightly and scenting him out of gratitude. “Thank you, Yoongi. Thank you, thank you,” you mumbled, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as he held onto you to keep you from falling out of his lap.

You couldn’t believe that Yoongi, the angel that he was, could possibly give you the chance to find out what happened to your cubs, and maybe even the chance to see them once more. It was the best thing you could ever ask for.

“Anything for you, Daylily,” he whispered back, quietly enough that Hoseok wouldn’t have been able to hear.

Speaking of Hoseok, he hadn’t spoken for a while. You turned to look at him, seeing a really blank expression on his face with his fists clenched, bunching up the material of his pants.

Jin followed your gaze. “Hobi?” he asked.

“You didn’t deserve any of that,” Hoseok said quietly. “Neither of you deserve anything that you’ve been through. Being sold to that House, being forced onto the street because of it, the shelter… It all makes me so angry that humans thinking they’re so much better than hybrids causes so much unnecessary suffering with people who don’t deserve any of it.”

“That’s why I chose my job,” Yoongi said. “I couldn’t stand it so much that I wanted to do something to help. And unfortunately, we can’t save or help everyone, but we do our best. With the number of hybrids we’ve been able to help, seeing them go on to live happier, more fulfilling lives, it makes me feel like I have a purpose in the world. After hearing all of that, I’m infinitely happier that Hoseok adopted you two. You seem happy here.”

“We are,” Jin said. “It took Y/n a little bit to warm up to Hoseok, after everything that she’s been through and having trust issues with people that she needed to work past. But she’s much better now.”

“Trust issues with people?” Yoongi asked incredulously, pulling away from you a bit to look you in the face. “What trust issues? I mean yeah, she obviously had an issue with the shelter workers who mistreated her, but she never had any issues with me.”

Seokjin shrugged. “Who knows.”

“Maybe you’re ‘true mates,’” Hoseok mused.

You turned to him curiously. “True mates?”

“You don’t know what a true mate is?” Hoseok asked. “That’s what Jimin and Jungkook are. I had to look it up when they mentioned it, but basically from what I gathered, Jungkook could just feel that Jimin was his. He knew they were meant to be together. Said that it would feel like something important was missing when they were apart, even before they officially became mates.”

Your face scrunched as you thought. How could you tell if someone was your true mate? Yeah, you almost immediately warmed up to and trusted Yoongi and your feelings toward him very rapidly developed into something much less platonic. But you always just figured that you got used to him so easily because you so desperately needed the care and affection he offered. But then again, feeling like something was missing when you’re apart? Yeah, you most definitely felt that. You’d have to figure that out sometime, and hopefully soon. Maybe it was possible.

Done worrying about it for the moment, your mind returned to the present and you saw Yoongi looking at you curiously, as if he was trying to figure you out. Realizing you were still sitting in his lap, you tried to nonchalantly slide back onto the couch. Yoongi’s hold on you didn’t let go so easily, but he still made no move to stop you, letting you settle next to your brother once more.

“Oh yeah, maybe Yoongi could answer that question we had about the aches?” Seokjin asked, seeming to change the topic due to you being uncomfortable with continuing that last vein of thought.

“Aches?” Hoseok and Yoongi both asked at the same time.

“Yeah,” Jin continued. “Y/n and I have been feeling achy, kind of sore all over after coming here. We’re not sure why, but we can’t seem to get rid of it. Sometimes it’s really bad.”

Next to you, Yoongi seemed to be deep in thought.

“Maybe I should take you guys to the hybrid vet,” Hoseok said.

“No!” you countered. “I don’t want to trouble you with that.”

“It’s not a problem, Y/n,” Hoseok insisted. “You’re my responsibility and I wouldn’t want you to be sick or anything. If something’s wrong, I’d rather you get checked out.”

“Really, I’m sure it’s no big deal,” you said.

“Have you guys shifted recently?” Yoongi asked.

“Shifted?” Jin asked. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Yoongi asked, looking confused. “Have you guys shifted at all lately?”

“We don’t know what you mean by shifted,” you responded.

Yoongi opened and closed his mouth before turning to Hoseok.

“Can they shift?” Hoseok asked.

“Yes,” Yoongi said. “Didn’t the shelter tell you they’re natural hybrids?”

“No, they never said anything,” Hoseok responded.

“Natur- what?” You and Seokjin were utterly confused at this point.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at you. “You guys don’t know?” When you continued to look at him like he grew an extra head, he sighed. “I can’t believe you’re fully adult hybrids and have never been told, or even seen it, especially since you lived on the street for a bit. Didn’t you feel achy when you lived on your own, too?”

“I mean, yeah,” Seokjin shrugged. “But we were sleeping on the hard ground so we figured that was to be expected.”

“Okay, history and biology lesson time then,” Yoongi said, turning fully to face the both of you. “There are two kinds of hybrids. The first, naturally occurring hybrids that have been around for a long time and eventually started to integrate in human society, which obviously hadn’t gone that great for them, but that’s a story for another time. And two, the kind that crazy scientists created from experimenting, attempting to replicate the already existing natural hybrids.

“Natural hybrids,” Yoongi continued, “can shift between the form you’re currently in and one that fully resembles their animal counterpart. And hybrids who were created from a lab, or descended from those created in a lab, are incapable of shifting since humans couldn’t replicate the shifting process in their experiments. You guys”—he gestured between you and Seokjin—“are in the first category. Your lineage is descended from natural hybrids.”

Your eyes widened. “What? We can become full-on tigers?!”

“Well, you can shift into one, yes,” Yoongi said. “Technically you’re still a hybrid no matter which form you take. When you shift, you’d appear exactly as a tiger but maintain your more abstract human traits, like your conscience and emotional intelligence. And when you’re in this current form, you can’t get rid of your tails or ears, but otherwise appear almost entirely human except for those animal traits, as well as retaining your natural instincts based on your breed and heightened senses.”

Both you and Jin remained silent for a few moments as you digested the information. Eventually, your brother was the one to break it. “How come we never knew? And how do you know we are natural hybrids?”

Yoongi pulled out his phone and started searching for something while he talked. “Well the first one, I’m not quite sure. But I’d assume it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been living in places that supplied you with medication that suppressed your need and ability to shift. There was a pill you were given at the shelter, which I assume you’ve been given since your first owners… Ah, this one.” He turned the phone around, the image of a particular pill you were very familiar with on the screen.

You nodded. “Yeah, we’ve always been given those. Before we were adopted, and at the Hybrid House, too.”

Yoongi visibly cringed when you mentioned the House. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. But these pills, their job is to suppress your natural need and urge to shift. Now that you’re off of them, I’m guessing your bodies are aching because they feel the need to let out your tiger half. Which wouldn’t surprise me, if you’ve spent I’m assuming your whole lives in this form.”

“Okay, that would make sense,” Jin said. “But how did you know we’re natural hybrids?”

“For two reasons. One, because I know you had been given this pill at the shelter. And two, it’s on your files, which I have seen. And that Hoseok should have seen.” Yoongi turned to look at the mentioned human, you and Jin following his lead.

“What?” the human practically squeaked. “No, they didn’t give me their files when I adopted them. I asked for them and they said they’d get them to me, but I still haven’t gotten them.”

Yoongi sighed. “This shelter, I swear… Took, what? Three weeks to get Seokjin’s file updated with his new owner information, didn’t let the person who was adopting two natural tiger hybrids know that they even were natural, and now they didn’t even give you their files? I can’t wait for this place to get shut down.”

“So, I guess they should probably shift now and then, huh?” Hoseok said.

“Yeah, that would be best,” Yoongi said. “Unless you want to put them on the medica-”

“No, definitely not,” Hoseok interrupted. “I don’t believe in that stuff. If they can shift, they should shift.”

“Okay, well that’s a relief to hear, I won’t lie,” Yoongi said.

“But how?” you asked. “How are we supposed to shift?”

“It’s tricky for me to explain since I’m not a hybrid,” Yoongi said before taking a moment to think. “Hoseok, did you mention a bit ago about another hybrid you know? Is he a natural hybrid?”

“Who? Jungkook?” Hoseok asked. “Yeah, he’s my friend Jimin’s mate. He’s a natural hybrid. Jimin also happens to be the son from Y/n and Jin’s first family.”

“Oh,” Yoongi said, blinking a few times. “Are you… on good terms?”

“Yes,” Seokjin answered. “He’s like family to us.”

“Oh okay, good,” Yoongi said. “Well, maybe he could help explain it to you guys. I would suck at explaining it, seeing as I’m human and have no idea what it feels like to shift.”

“Okay, we’ll ask him,” you said.

“Well, I’m glad that I was able to get that cleared up,” Yoongi said. “It was a really good thing I came by. I’m glad you guys are doing well, that you’re happy with Hoseok.” Yoongi’s eyes met yours, his expression hard to read and making you wonder what he was thinking. “Make sure to talk to this Jungkook soon about shifting, okay? And I’m going to be talking to my team first thing tomorrow about your cubs, Y/n. I can’t guarantee we’ll find anything, but I promise that we’ll do our absolute best. I would love to stay, but I do have a lot of stuff to do for the case against the shelter, so I have to go.”

“Would you be able to come by again?” you asked, not sure how you’d feel if he said no.

“Of course,” he responded easily, giving you a soft smile. “I’d love to see you again soon. I don’t know when I can, but I’ll keep in touch with Hoseok.”

“Sounds good,” your owner chimed in.

Yoongi gave you and Jin each one last scratch at the ears as he said goodbye. Maybe you imagined it, but you felt like he lingered on yours a little bit longer.

Just as he was opening the door, you suddenly remembered something. “Oh! Yoongi!” you called out. He turned around, looking at you curiously. “How’s Taehyung?”

“He’s good,” Yoongi answered. “I let him know as soon as you were adopted. He cried another river in relief that you were okay. He says he feels a bit more lonely now, but I’m making sure to keep close to him.”

“What will happen to him when the shelter is shut down?” Jin asked.

Yoongi pursed his lips. “I’m not sure. I’m hoping to have a potential owner lined up for him by then. If not, then he’ll probably end up in another shelter like most of the other hybrids there will be. A good shelter, one that won’t see them as disposable.”

You weren’t sure what kind of answer you were looking for, but just knowing he was okay made relief wash over you. “Tell him we say hi?” you asked.

Smiling Yoongi said, “Definitely.” And then, he was out the door.

You already missed him.

You definitely had questions other than the shifting to ask Jungkook about.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Tags: @aroseforyoongi @shadowsremedy

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.2

Il Dottore entered your cell early the next morning and was followed by Childe. "Rise! It is the beginning of your contribution to Snezhnayan society!" His entire demeanor reeked with a vivid excitement despite the bland atmosphere that sat within the cell.

But you, on the other hand, just looked blankly at him. After all the crying you did yesterday, your determination and perseverance had renewed somewhat. The bags under your eyes were still puffy and blotched with red. Your skin felt dry and chapped long after the tears dried.

Your lack of enthusiasm seemed to upset the man, and he frowned. He pulled an abnormally large syringe out of his coat pocket. "I had a feeling you'll resist, so we'll make do with mild paralysis, yes?" Your gaze slid to the tool that had to be as long as his own forearm.

Childe reacted when you shifted your attention to him. "I believe this is the last we'll see each other, ojou-chan," he spoke as Dottore approached you. "It's a shame we'll have to part ways like this, but have comfort in knowing our banters and battles were entertaining while they lasted."

"Stop." You flinched as Dotorre grabbed your chained arm. "I-I won't resist." That needle was large. Did it have to be that big? Was it really necessary? And the amount of liquid inside it--simply terrifying to look at. "I won't resist." You even made a point to hold still, but to no avail. He wasn't going to stop.

"Remember what I said, ojou-chan. I gave you a way out of this rough treatment." The needle jabbed into your forearm, making you wince in pain as your eyes pleaded for Childe's help.

Panic had begun to set in. "Get off of me!" You pushed at Il Dottore. The force in your hands did nothing, and you quickly realized in complete horror that you were already losing feeling in your limbs. What quick reflexes you had were now achingly slow and uncoordinated. The harbinger stood and proceeded to carelessly toss the empty syringe onto the other end of the cell.

"Go ahead and escort her," Dottore called out for two Fatui agents in the hall. They lifted your heavy body and began to drag you out of the cell.

"Wait! You can't do this! Tartaglia, please!" Your screams echoed once you were pulled into the hallway. The useless kicks of protest were weak against gravity. "Stop this!"

"This is goodbye, ojou-chan." Something humane and hesitant flickered in his eyes, but he saw you off with an ominous grin.

..........................................................

Despite Diluc's apparent dislike towards Kaeya, Aether invited him on their mission anyway. Things got heated pretty quickly, but Paimon managed to cool them down by insulting both of them whenever they got too heated.

It was day two of their caravan journey disguised as simple merchants. Diluc manned the wagon while Kaeya walked along its left side, Xiao on the right, and Aether in the back. Zhongli was scouting ahead, but stated he would not intervene once the group reached Snezhnaya. They had barely managed to cross Fontaine's border without being detected by border patrol. The weather here was more humid than that of Liyue or Mondstat.

"To think I would get such a humble request from the Hero of Mondstat," Kaeya spoke loud enough to get on Diluc's nerves. "I never would have thought such a strong individual would need a Knight of Favonius. Must be desperate times." Diluc grumbled something under his breath, but kept his focus on the dirt path. His hands were holding onto the reins a little too tight.

"We thought you'd be able to help us with diplomatic stuff since you're a Knight," Paimon admitted. "You might be able to get us into the palace, right?"

"It's possible, but I wouldn't count on it," the knight shrugged carelessly.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Diluc scoffed.

"Oh? And is that because I'm associated with the Knights, or," Kaeya tested, "because you feel threatened by my presence?"

"You're as unreliable as them," Diluc retorted with a frown, finally facing his adopted brother. "You fit right in with that group of--"

"NGH!" Xiao doubled over from an unforeseen searing pain that tore through his chest. He knelt to the ground and clutched at his sternum.

"Xiao!" Paimon and Aether ran toward him. Zhongli, who was returning from his position to report back to the team, heard the shouts and came running. Diluc stopped the caravan, and he and Kaeya joined the duo next to the yaksha.

"Haah...hah..." Xiao heaved, sweat beading at the top of his forehead. "Tch." The pain had just begun to subside when another one replaced it, this time in his shoulders. Then his legs. Then his back. He was practically seeing spots by the time Zhongli reached him. "Don't touch me!" He swatted the air around him similar to that of a wounded animal. "Urk..."

"What's hurting you?" Zhongli observed the yaksha's behavior carefully. He suffers from chronic pains, but I have yet to see him react so harshly. "Do I need to get your medication?"

"I-I'm fine," he assured even though it was obvious the opposite was true. His labored breathing brought concerned looks to everyone.

"You should rest in the wagon," Diluc spoke. Then he turned to Aether. "Is he well enough to accompany us?"

"Your eyes," Zhongli knelt before Xiao, "are glowing." Like hers.

"So?" I don't need useless observations of my pain. Ugh... It doesn't compare to my past injuries, but it's enough to upset my stomach. What is this? His eyes frantically flit around the group's surroundings only to find nothing out of the ordinary. Was I poisoned somewhere along the way? I did not consume human food. There was that merchant awhile back--

"Xiao," Zhongli snapped him out of his thoughts. Once he regained the yaksha's attention, he repeated his words. "When was the last time you took your pain killers?"

"This morning," he groaned. "This doesn't happen." The sun's cool rays suddenly acted like they were burning him alive.

"Have you heard anything from her?"

"Not in the past two days." The pain is subsiding. Xiao's shoulders slowly began to relax as he continued to try and steady his breathing.

"Do you hear anything now? Perhaps recall random memories, or visions?" This is the second newest side effect in the past three days...what could they possibly be doing to trigger this reaction in the two of them? First, an emotional mirroring, and now with pain? What are they tormenting her with?

"No. It's just pain."

"I see."

"It's gone now," Xiao stood abruptly, ignoring the swaying earth beneath his feet. Kaeya was about to grab his shoulder to steady him when Xiao's vision was obscured by red and yellow splotches. His legs gave way from under him.

..........................................................

"A nerve agent seems to react well with your eyes," Dottore chuckled, and he set the remaining syringe on the top of a stand to his left.

You couldn't really talk anymore, but your illuminated irises and the tears that streamed down your cheeks said plenty about the situation. Your arms and legs were tied down with leather restraints, and your convulsing body lay atop a metal operating bench. From what you could make out, this place was some type of arena, but Dottore didn't make you fight monsters of the abyss like you initially thought he would.

You would've preferred it if that were the case.

"Now I'll ask again," Dottore grinned manically and moved his face close to yours. "How much do you know about your condition?" His hair swayed as if to portray his sick enthusiasm.

"Nothing," you sobbed quietly. Finally, the immense pain jolting through your bones was subsiding. Relief washed over your twitching limbs similar to that of the tide.

"Childe told me you knew about our plans. What did you think those were?"

When he began to reach for another syringe, you stopped him. "Just that you want whatever's in my blood."

"Do you know the powers you possess?" You shook your head. "Haah..." Dottore sighed. "Another lie." He picked a new syringe up and tapped the excess liquid that spewed out of it. "We are not fully aware of each aspect to your predicament; if we had the two of you here, we wouldn't need to pull the information out of you. This would be much easier if you told me the truth of what you know. That way, we wouldn't have a reason to test every substance on you, yes?"

"I don't know anything."

"Round three it is, then."

................................................

"ALATUSSS!" You screamed, now delirious from the never-ending onslaught of pain that you've been through for the past several hours. Il Dottore paused his sadistic torture as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

"Now that is a name you haven't yelled before," a slow smile crept upon his face as he watched your chest heave from exhaustion. "Who is this 'Alatus?'"

"P-please," you whimpered. You were drenched in sweat and tears now.

"How does round ten sound to you?"

"No," you whimpered helplessly, what's left of your fighting spirit finally shattering to pieces.

"Now now, Dottore," a woman's voice rang through the arena. "We don't want her dying on us. She's our only shot at this." Signora came into view, and she eyed you like a piece of meat. "Oh dear, you look tired." Another tear dripped in response to her mocking tone. Tension rose in your body yet again when she came to your side and examined you with cold eyes.

"She's not under your jurisdiction, Signora," Dottore shrugged. "If she had just given me the answers I was looking for, we would skip this step entirely. But if she insists, I have no problem with torture."

"Oh?" Signora narrowed her eyes at you. "So then, who is Alatus, little one? All this suffering would be over if you answer our questions." She gently swiped the hair out of your face, a gesture that heavily contradicted the predatory expression on her face.

More tears rolled down the sides of your face as you stared back at her. It hurts...everything hurts so bad, Xiao. I can't fight... You choked down a sob and looked away from the harbingers. I'm so tired...

"Resume your interrogation tomorrow. She's drained."

Dottore grumbled something under his breath as he set aside his next syringe. "Guards! Hurry up and untie her already!" His subordinates immediately did as they were told, fearful of not moving fast enough to the harbinger's liking. They dragged your limp body back to your cell.

You were too exhausted to resist.

.........................

Coming Up Next: An unexpected reunion.

#xiao genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #genshin one shots

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 3 years

Text

Gold Rush

Finally venturing into writing for Brock, and so excited to put this out there!! Very appreciative of the encouragement I’ve gotten throughout this from @brockadoodles who had (rightfully so, man deserves it) made loving Brock her BRAND. If there was any hockey who’s made to be a dad, it’s Brock Boeser, and I’ve genuinely loved getting to put this together. Love hearing feedback and what your favorite parts were, so reblog and pop into my inbox!

word count: 3.8k+

Brock had loved kids his whole life. Being around them, looking after them, the first day a kid asked him to autograph his jersey was burned into his brain alongside precious few other memories, most of the others involving you. And anyone who had ever seen him with Easton could tell that Brock Boeser loved babies. He had wanted kids since he was old enough to know what being a dad was, and knew so strongly that was a path he wanted — needed, honestly, there was too much love in his heart to not share it with everyone he could — that he wouldn’t ever have let things get serious with you if that wasn’t a life you wanted for yourself. Parenthood wasn’t for everyone, and he never held it against the women he had dated who didn’t want to be moms, but it was for Brock Boeser.

He remembered the day he brought it up with you, his voice soft and hesitant as your head rested on his shoulder, a blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps as Return of the Jedi played on the TV. “Do you want kids someday?” Brock asked. He spoke gently, not wanting to scare you off with thoughts of the future coming too fast for you to handle, wondering if maybe seven months into a relationship was too early to bring up the type of commitment that lasted a lifetime. But he had to, had to protect himself from getting more invested and one more broken heart in a relationship that wasn’t just headed down the wrong set of train tracks, it was going the opposite way entirely. But, as you spoke, it turned out that he never had anything to worry about, and Brock wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more relieved in his life.

“I do,” you said, looking up at his face, trying to read his expression. “Always have. Not sure how many, I’ve always thought two or three sounded good. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his heart absolutely swelled, the way you spoke of him in your future, with such ease and certainty as if you weren’t even entertaining a possibility that he wouldn’t be a part of it, that he wouldn’t be the one you would have children with. He twisted his neck, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “We will.”

So Brock loved kids, and you loved kids, and it had been established over a year before he put a ring on your finger that they were something in your future. You bought a four-bedroom in Shaughnessy, the idea being that one would be a guest room and two would be reserved for the kids, whenever they came along. “We can always add on,” Brock had said as you signed the papers, the real estate agent dropping the keys into your palm with a warm smile. And you knew that he would, you knew that Brock wanted as many kids as you were willing to give him. But you’d start with one. That was the plan. That was the plan, so a few months after you got back from your honeymoon in Scotland you went off of your birth control. Kids would happen when they happened, but you both knew you’d rather them sooner than later, and thus had begun your journey towards starting a family. That was the plan, so a year and a half ago you had swapped the pill for a stock of pregnancy tests, taking one a month and whenever you were feeling even slightly off for good measure, sure that your nausea and headache wasn’t the beginnings of a flu but rather your baby making themself known.

When six months of trying came and went without a single positive test, you both started to get a little antsy, but you knew that these things took time, and you knew that it hadn’t been long enough for there to be any real cause for concern. But you still called your doctor, started exercising more and taking folic acid like she recommended, you and Brock both cutting down on your alcohol. “If you’ve got to do all this, it’s only fair I have to make some changes, too,” he had said. You loved your husband for many reasons, chief among them being the fact that no matter the circumstance, where you were or who you were with or how people were acting, he never made you feel like you were on your own. Everything was a team effort in the Boeser household.

It was six months, and you were doing okay, and Brock was genuinely winning the award for the world’s best husband with how deftly he could calm you down every time you saw the words not pregnant show up on a pregnancy test, but then it hit a year of trying without success and you started to get worried. It was July, and you knew it was common in the NHL to try and time births for the offseason — if you got pregnant in the summer, your baby would have been born in the middle of a playoff push — but you honestly would have settled for any timing. So you visited a fertility specialist at the Mayo Clinic, a quiet recommendation Brock’s mom got from a friend’s daughter. You loved your own mom, but Laurie truly had been your saving grace in everything. A quiet, steady presence who offered more love and support than you could ever ask for, giving her advice only when asked and never once betraying your trust by telling anyone. But Dr. Gonzalez got the tests back, both yours and Brock’s, and said that nothing was wrong. “Unexplained infertility,” they called it. It was nothing anybody was doing wrong, nobody’s fault, not a matter of hormonal imbalances or obvious lifestyle factors or anything that would have let you blame it on yourself. Which, on one hand, was so good and so relieving, so desperately needed. You needed to know that it wasn’t your body, and it wasn’t Brock, that was keeping the two of you from finally being able to grow your family. But on the other hand, there were few things more hopeless or frustrating than hearing that they couldn’t find a cause. That meant that there wasn’t anything you could have done differently, true, but that also meant that there wasn’t anything you could do. It was a waiting game, and you were never good with being patient.

Pregnancy scares were more common than people might know, if the experiences of you and your friends were anything to go by. There were high school boyfriends, college roommates, half of the people you knew had worried they were pregnant or had gotten someone pregnant far before they were ready. But now, when you were settled down and established and were building a life with the most amazing man you had ever had the fortune to love, and you wanted a baby, it wasn’t happening. The clinical definition of infertility was the “failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.” You had committed the definition to memory over the past 14 months, and whether you knew it or not, Brock had too. You had always been good at tests. Good grades, always the essay the teacher used as an example in class, graduated top of your class at UBC. But this was one test you couldn’t study for, and one you couldn’t believe you had failed time and time again.

Which brought you to December, normally one of your favorite times of the year but one that you had recently begun noticing all the doom and gloom in that others had always mentioned when speaking about the winter months. You still loved the holidays, Christmas and New Year’s and everything in between, but you thought that in your second year as a married couple, you wouldn’t still be a family of two. It was a year and a half since you and Brock had started trying for a baby, and there was still no luck. It was a year and a half, and you had started talking about options. Vancouver had some amazing fertility specialists, and adoption was something you had discussed looking into, but you had both agreed on waiting a few more months before taking that route.

---

Which brought you to almost three weeks later, two days before New Year’s Eve, your head in the toilet and your husband leaning up against the doorway. “God, I feel like shit,” you said, leaning up against the wall when your nausea had finally seemed to subside. “I bet, last time I threw up was our honeymoon,” he said, trying to make you laugh. Brock had insisted on trying haggis in Scotland, saying he needed the “full experience,” but regretted that decision as soon as he spent the better part of the second night of your honeymoon in the hotel bathroom throwing up from food poisoning. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, gratefully taking the cup of water Brock handed you as you leaned up against the bathroom counter.

You caught his eyes searching yours as you set the glass down, his face wearing an expression you had come to know well in the four years you had been together. There was something on his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “Yeah?” you prompted, raising your eyebrows.

He gave a tiny shake of his head. “It’s nothing, seriously.”

Now it was your turn to look at him. “Brock, it’s going to eat you up if you keep it all inside. Spit it out.”

“How long has it been since you took a test?” Brock asked gently.

You should have known. God, you should have known that’s where his mind would go, and the worst part of it all, the part that made you feel even worse for getting your husband’s hopes up that maybe this was finally it, maybe it had finally worked, was that you couldn’t even blame him. You had been snappier at Brock the past few days, something both you and he had attributed to your overall weariness about the whole process, you had to practically slap his hands away from your breasts the other night while you were having sex, and this wasn’t even the first time you had thrown up this week. But it was flu season, and you worked with kids, and seemed to catch it more years than not despite taking the flu shot religiously each October. You’d be looking for a missed period, but they had always been light and you had experienced some spotting when Brock was on a road trip the week before.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head. “I don’t know...A month? A little over? I just hate that it’s getting so clinical, that’s not what it was supposed to be about, that’s never what it was supposed to be about.”

Brock ran his hands up your arms, back and forth, the same way he had been comforting you for years. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way, more stressed or disappointed in yourself, because it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’re going to have a baby one way or another, because I love you and I’ve never met anyone who’s more excited, and ready, and made to be a mom quite like you. And whether you have the baby yourself, or we adopt, or whatever path we decide is the right one for us, they’ll be ours, and they’ll be so loved.” Brock ghosted a kiss over your forehead, his eyes closing. “You don’t have to take another test if you don’t want to, the last thing I want to do is make you more anxious over all of this. But I think it might be good. I think it might help.”

You breathed out deeply through your nose, shooting your husband a weak smile. God, he was so good to you. “I’ll tell you if I do.”

Brock nodded, stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms, whispering your name as he leaned his forehead against yours. “No matter what happens — tomorrow, next week, next year, I don’t care — nothing you do will ever make me love you any less. We’re good. We’re gonna be okay.” You could have filled a hundred books with the reasons why you loved Brock Boeser, and this was one of them. The way he loved you, so selflessly and sacrificially, without an ounce of ego and never expecting anything in return aside from your heart. You didn’t know what you had ever done in this life or any past one to deserve him, but there wasn’t a day you didn’t thank God for the privilege of letting you love this man.

---

It was finally New Year’s Eve, festivities having taken over the city — really, they hadn’t stopped since Christmas — and hardly a flat surface was left undecorated with posters or metallic tinsel, or both for good measure, including almost the entirety of yours and Brock’s house. He had volunteered your place weeks ago as the site for the team’s New Year’s Eve party. It didn’t generally draw a crowd as big as the holiday party earlier in the month, which usually had not only the players’ partners, but children and whatever family was visiting at the time, so Brock had asked if you’d be willing, and you agreed easily. You loved getting to spend time with the team, and you were even more inclined than usual to gravitate towards any kind of distraction that would take your mind off of the stress you were under. The stress that you put yourself under, to be fair. So you threw yourself into planning and preparation, pulling out the ice chest from the garage and filling it up, making sure people were bringing enough champagne, cleaning every inch of the house with Brock until it was spotless despite the fact that you both knew you’d have to do the same thing in the morning.

Some two and a half hours into the party and most everyone who was drinking was sufficiently drunk, the TV in the living room flipping back and forth between the broadcast from Times Square and Youtube karaoke that nearly everyone had been roped into at some point or another. You sipped your soda, half-sitting on one of your barstools next to Holly. “You’re not drinking?” she asked curiously.

“I had some earlier, trying to pace myself” you said, waving your hand. “Someone’s got to look after that one.” You nodded towards Brock, who was having what looked to be the time of his life in your living room while badly singing along to One Direction. Holly nodded. You knew she probably wanted to ask more, but she was too tactful to push. “It’s so nice to see them all like this, just letting loose, having fun. It’s hard to remember sometimes that these are just guys in their 20s and 30s when they’re constantly off travelling or away at games, doing things most people their age only dreamed of. They don’t get the chance to be normal hardly ever. And the season can get stressful...It’s just good to see,” you said.

“It is,” she agreed.

You checked your phone. Twelve minutes till midnight. “You want to help me get the champagne ready?”

Holly smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Nearly twenty flutes of champagne later — you had no idea where Brock had managed to find all of the glasses — you walked around the corner, your head poking into the living room. “Champagne’s in the kitchen, everybody. Five minutes till midnight!”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Brock said, leaning in for a kiss after walking over.

You scrunched your nose. “Babe. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.” The second you had gotten back from refilling your drink earlier, Brock had dragged you into what turned out to be a very endearing but not-so-successful rendition of I’ve Had the Time of My Life in the living room, minus the lift. He wanted to go for it, and you trusted your husband with everything, but you really didn’t feel like spending your New Year’s Eve in the ER after having crashed into the Christmas tree. Dirty Dancing was one of the first movies you had ever watched together, so there was more than a little meaning behind the choice, but you doubted you were exactly making Jennifer Grey proud.

“Ten minutes away from you is ten minutes too long,” he said, nuzzling his head into your neck.

The fingers of your free hand carded through the hairs at the base of his neck; you loved it when he let his hair grow out like this. “Okay, babe, I believe you. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Brock pulled back, rolling his eyes at you in exaggeration. “Only two beers since the night started. I’m not drunk, I’m not even tipsy, I just love my wife.”

“Could be worse,” you quipped. You squeezed his hand as the two of you walked into the kitchen, after half of the guests had already grabbed their flutes and made their way back into the living room for the countdown. Grabbing your drink from the other side of the counter, you held it in your far hand as you and Brock turned back around, taking your place by the Christmas tree. You glanced towards the TV, where the Times Square ball was slowly inching towards the ground. “Anyone else think it’s a little weird that we’re all staring at a TV waiting for something to happen that already happened 3 hours ago?”

“I don’t believe in tape delay,” Elias said.

Quinn nodded seriously in agreement, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “It doesn’t exist. That little notice in the corner, saying ‘this is a recording of an earlier broadcast? Fake.”

You snorted into your glass as everyone’s attention turned back to the screen. Three minutes till midnight. “I was a little apprehensive at first when you said you’d put us down to host,” you said, leaning back into Brock’s chest, “but I’m glad you did. This is nice.”

“I’m glad we’ve got everyone around,” he said, looking down at you. “What are you drinking?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in the euphoria and exhilaration of the night, but the more he looked at it, the more he realized that your glass looked different than everyone else’s.

“Sparkling cider,” you said, your heart rate picking up. “I brought it in case any of the kids came.”

“But there was plenty of champagne left?” Brock questioned. “We’re at our own house, it’s not like you need to be playing designated driver.” You let out an airy laugh, the kind that made Brock’s eyes immediately snap to yours because he knew you so well, he could read even the slightest actions, the smallest shift in tone, and he knew what that particular laugh meant. It was your nervous laugh. “What is it?” he asked, guiding you around the corner to the darkened hallway, the residual glimmer of the lights from the Christmas tree glowing softly on the walls.

You looked up at him, the purest most radiant smile you had ever given him crossing over your face. “You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant,” you whispered, your top lip trembling and letting you know that you were only moments away from tears.

Brock was speechless as he looked at you, the near-silence of the hallway a strange contrast to the growing noise in the living room as the clock ticked closer and closer to the new year. “And you’re...You’re not drinking because…” He faltered.

You gently took both of your glasses, setting them on a side table before taking his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band. “I’m not drinking because I’m pregnant, Brock,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Are you sure?” he asked. You felt a twinge in your heart, but you knew you really couldn’t be upset with him for not being sure. It had been a year and a half and there had been more than once where you both thought it was finally it, that it had finally taken.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I took a test the other day, after you had asked me if I was going to. God, I wasn’t expecting anything different, Brock. I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said. “But three minutes was up, and I turned the test over,” his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around yours, “and I saw a plus sign. I’ve never seen one before, Brock, it’s never been positive.” You didn’t realize you had started crying until Brock reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, wiping away a tear that had fallen onto your cheek. “But I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. Not until I was sure. So I found a midwifery center online, called — thank God they had a cancellation — and went in yesterday. I wanted to get it confirmed, but I didn’t want to do anything without you. I didn’t even look at the ultrasound, all I had her tell me was that everything looked absolutely perfect for seven weeks along.”

It was your husband’s turn for tears now, neither of you paying any mind to the deafening countdown that was happening just steps away. “You’re really pregnant?”

You nodded again. “We have an appointment again in two days. They’re going to show us the heartbeat.”

That was what broke him, bringing Brock down to his knees in front of you, his hand slipping from yours as he brought it up to rest on your lower stomach. Where his baby was. Where your baby was. “I’m finally going to be a dad,” he said, as if the knowledge that both of your lives would be changed forever come next July was just now hitting him, as if he’d never known purpose and fulfillment quite on the same level until you spoke those words to him.

You knelt down next to him, dropping a kiss on his lips just as the clock struck midnight. It wasn’t like any kiss you had ever shared before, not overwhelmed with passion or desire or want, nor the small, steady sort of kisses you had grown to love in your years as a married couple, the kind that said you’re my best friend in not so many words. This was a kiss of adoration, of devotion, of pure reverence for your husband and the life you had finally created together. “We’re having a baby.”

#hockey fanfic #hockey writing #brock boeser #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl writing #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #realized four hours after posting that I never added a title oops

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skywingknights · 3 years

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Slow Dancin’ by Rena Redhead (For RobStar Week 2021)

For @robxstar 's RobStar Week 2021. This one is based on Day 6's prompt "Formal Night". Previously did “Ikebana” for Day 1 and “Pretty” for Day 3, both posted on my tumblr page, along with a blog on my website (www.skywingknights.com) for “Ikebana” detailing thoughts on the writing process for that one. (Hope to have one for “Pretty” and “Slow Dancin’” each as well very soon, but the priority is to get these out first!).

Overall, I have to say RobStar week has been a wonderful get away from the woes and stresses of life. Yeah for romance, fluff, drama, and true love! <3 <3 <3

Oddly though, for some reason I’m really nervous about this one... But it’s time to throw nerves aside and to finally take a leap of faith, trusting the meanings will come through and that expressions of love with surpass any barrier, even that of language. Below is the first part of the story. Read the full story at the link following this first part. Hope you like it!

Later,

~Rena

PS. For some mood music, I suggest “Slow Dancin’“ by Yuya Matsushita, the inspiration for this little fan fic. ;)

-NxS-

Slow Dancin’

The taxi came to a stop. Jason had told her it was probably best not to fly in, since technically this wasn't a solely superhero event. Actually, that's not what he said. It was more along the lines of "Bruce would let me get killed again if you flew in" or something snarky like that. Kory had only grinned awkwardly. She really wasn't all that comfortable with this set up. She felt rather… out of place.

But Jason had begged, "Come on Kory, if I go with no one, I'm going to have to deal with all the mockery from those losers the whole night."

Said losers were the other young members of the Wayne household, Kory could infer, though she didn't really think those were necessarily accurate descriptions based off of her own interactions with them. Though to be fair, they were his adopted brothers. And there was really no telling what kind of antics took place behind any family's closed doors. But at the mention of… well, at their mention, at the possibility, Kory had felt her stomach tighten.

"Your brothers are going?"

Jason's tongue almost retracted down his throat unnaturally at what he deemed a deep insult. Almost, but not quite, "Well, Damian will be. Tim probably. Dick won't be."

The lump in her throat subsided slightly and after a pause, she finally relented, "Okay."

The cab driver opened the door and she stepped out. Yes, this feeling was… most certainly one of being out of place. Again. Everyone else was arriving in limos. Or Hummer SUVs. And everyone else looked… normal. She was on the other hand "a golden skinned beauty"… That's how Roy put it. But really, she was an alien and people gawked from the corners of their eyes as they quickly turned away from her, though that wasn't really why she felt so…

She couldn't finish her train of thought. She didn't really want to.

She looked around for her escort who came up the road on his motorcycle with it screeching to a halt, kicking up gravel and dirt. Many of the guests gasped and coughed, thinking that he was going to crash into them. But Kory didn't move. Jason wasn't that stupid.

"Hey babe, thanks for coming."

Okay, maybe he was at least a little stupid. Kory smiled tightly at the name. She still wasn't sure how she felt when people called her that. As she had "matured", she had found many people began saying that she was beautiful, whether to her face or behind her back. But beauty wasn't everything and right now, she much rather just wanted to kind of fade into the background. That's all.

"It is no problem," She told her friend.

Jason jumped off the bike, put it into park in the middle of the road and extended an arm for her to take. She sighed and took it while valets glared at Jason angrily. If he wasn't Wayne's son… the fact he was making trouble for them in forcing them to deal with his obnoxious bike would have landed him on their unfriendlies list which would have gotten him barred from the gala.

The two however walked into the main hallway of Wayne Manor without any problem. It was lit up so brightly that even the sun's brilliance seemed challenged. Fountains of drinks, chocolate truffles, waiters carrying hors d'oeuvres around for the guests, the decorations of silk and glamourous diamonds wrapped around the banisters and hanging from chandeliers, all at least over a century old… Kory had almost forgotten what a party at Wayne Manor was like, but this brought it all… all of the memories back.

-NxS-

Read the full story here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13921820/1/Slow-Dancin

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myundeadgayson · 3 years

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DC Street Racing AU — Bart Allen’s Backstory

alright, i know practically nothing about cars. i’ve also never even seen a Fast and the Furious movie, but SOMEONE has gotta fill the void on lack of DC Street Racing AUs, and i’m gonna do it. (if there are some out there though, please let me know! i can barely find ANYTHING, and i’d love to see stuff for this kind of AU!)

so,,, i’m just saying,,, the Teen Titans and Young Justice Crews as Street Racers.

we’ll start off with the characters that sent me into this spiral in the first place: Bart Allen and Wally West.

again, i know practically nothing about this kind of stuff. i know nothing about street racing, or cars, but i’m just saying… i really love imagining Street Racer!Wally being Bart’s inspiration for wanting to race.

even though Iris was never approving of Wally’s racing (she’s supportive, but extremely concerned for his safety), Wally would occasionally bring Bart along to the races that he’d have with friends. sometimes Bart would sneak his way into going without Wally realizing, but either way, Bart would come along.

after years of growing up and watching Wally race, Bart decided he wanted to race too. (note: to save myself a headache since this is No Powers AU and Time Travel doesn’t take place, we’re just gonna pretend that Barry and Iris adopted Bart. i want to say that his parents were close family members of Iris and Wally. perhaps one of the parents was another cousin of theirs, but both Bart’s parents ended up dying in some sort of accident. since then, Bart’s been living with Barry, Iris, and their newly born twins.)

i have so much more to say about this AU, but i want to warn you because this is about to be a VERY long post. however, if you wanna know Bart Allen’s Street Racer AU backstory and more about Wally (and his racing group, The Titans), please read more!

(TW: small car accident — completely non-graphic, no injuries involved, everything is okay, but it does happen) Bart’s been interested in racing for YEARS. ever since he was a kid, he’s always craved to know what it’s like — to feel the wind in your hair, the rush of adrenaline in your veins, the feeling of your heart racing as you watch the speedometer go up and up and up. the exhilaration filling your lungs as some part of you realizes “this is dangerous”.

he wants those feelings. he wants that experience that makes Wally’s eyes light up like there’s pure lightening rushing through his veins.

he wants to go Fast.

when Bart was thirteen, Wally let him sit in the driver’s seat for the first time.

Wally didn’t let him drive it, of course. Bart wasn’t tall enough yet to reach the petals even if he wanted to, but he was excited nonetheless. Wally had laughed at him as he grinned, asking how to work everything.

the car wasn’t on — Wally wasn’t dumb enough to give him even the slightest chance of trying to start it. it was a good choice. Bart would be a liar to say that he wouldn’t have instantly tried to drive it. instead, Wally let Bart mess with the gears and pretend he was in a race of his own. he’d adjust the mirror to try to see himself. he was too short to fully be seen in it, but if he sat up tall enough he could see his eyes.

years later, Bart would do the same. he’d look into his reflection and see his eyes, sparkling with that same determination that he had all those years ago.

Wally had explained everything to him. Bart started off by eagerly pointing at things (like the gear, the numbers, and all the weird symbols he could see) and ask questions, and Wally would answer every one. Wally explained other things too, like what made Wally’s special car better for racing than some random car. Bart hung on every word, trying his best to imagine all the pieces, even if he didn’t know what some were at all. he tried to commemorate every bit of information to memory bc maybe one day, he could make himself a cool car too.

the first time Bart actually drove a car was a disaster.

he was barely fourteen. it was hardly even a few months after Wally had verbally explained to him how to work a car.

no one expected him to put that knowledge to use so quickly.

somehow he got ahold of Iris’ keys. he would never explain how he got him (they were RIGHT THERE on the counter. how was he supposed to say no when they made it so easy?), but somehow it happened.

his joyride didn’t last long enough. for a short moment though, he was beyond excited to be beyond the wheel. after lots of adjusting the seat and awkwardly shuffling to sit as close to the wheel as possible to be able to see over the hood, Bart started to drive.

he managed to get down the street. he was a little slow at first. the car wobbled in an unsteady line as it trudged down the road at barely 10mph. Bart’s eyes flickered constantly between the road and the mirror, his small hands gripping the wheel like a lifeline.

the anxiousness he felt subsided as he reached the end of the neighborhood. there was no sign of Iris in sight, and he managed to drive just fine. stunned laughter bubbled from his lips as his eyes flickered back down to the road ahead— he was doing it! he was really doing it! he was driving!

with a newfound confidence urging him on, he turned onto a connected street to keep going. he started pressing on the gas pedal more, trying to gain some speed. the car started going from a slow crawl to a decently safe speed. Bart started pressing down on it harder and harder, going faster and faster. he remembered laughing in delight. the windows were cracked halfway, allowing the air to rush in. it tousled his hair, and for a moment he felt like he was flying.

until he wasn’t.

he hadn’t really considered the thought of other cars. he hadn’t considered a lot of things actually, such as the fact it was the middle of the day and people would be driving.

he didn’t crash into anyone, but it was a close call. when he started getting closer to the main road and noticed the cars zooming across, he panicked.

he hit the brakes. he did what Wally said. he didn’t slam them, but he was still going too fast. the cars were getting closer! Bart pressed his foot door harder and finally, stomped on the brakes altogether.

he yanked the wheel away from the road, shutting his eyes tight.

the wheels spun. he went off the road into the grass, tire skidding rough tracks across the grass and dirt. he didn’t hit a car, but he did hit the stop sign at the end of the street.

it was a miracle he didn’t get hurt, or worse. he ended up a bit banged up hitting the wheel and the seatbelt yanking too tight, but he was overall fine. unfortunately, Iris definitely wasn’t happy.

Bart didn’t drive for a long while after that.

occasionally, Wally would still take him on drives though.

some of Bart’s best memories are riding in the passenger seat late at night. along barren backroads and empty highways, Wally would race through the streets. with the windows rolled down, the two of them would laugh, voices carried through the wind that whipped their hair like reckless flames.

under the passing lights, Bart would grin wide and holler his excitement into the night sky without a care in the world.

the world would need to try pretty hard to catch them.

Bart would also get to attend a few of Wally’s races. it isn’t as often as he used to with Iris and Barry watching him more closely, but he still got to go some times.

he’d only really watch Wally race against friends.

they called themselves the Titans. Wally said the name wasn’t planned, it just happened to stick. Bart assumed it was more because as time went on, they really did become like the titans to beat if you wanted to prove yourself as a racer.

it was who made up the team that once surprised him.

Dick Grayson, Wally’s best friend of many years and infamous son of Gotham’s Bruce Wayne, was the unofficial leader of the group. The Dick Grayson, with his car as dark as the night. the darkness of the car was only disrupted by a few brilliant blue decals. the most memorable one was always the striking blue silhouette of a bird on the hood. (“Nightwing,” Dick affectionately called the car.)

Koriand’r, an incredibly kind woman with hair that was almost more fiery than Bart’s own. her car was a vibrant purple with flames racing along the sides as if it’d caught fire. (“they call me Starfire”, she told him once when caught him fawning over the car, awed as ever. “i like to imagine that if i drive just fast enough, i can see flames.”)

Victor Stone, who indulged all his questions and answered every single one with the same enthusiasm. he’d lost an arm to an accident, but replaced it with an amazing cybernetic one. his designed his own car to have similar robotic style. incredibly futuristic and constantly updated with the best parts he could find. (“someone called me Cyborg,” Victor told him once while working on the car. he let Bart sit in the garage with him, occasionally offering whatever help he could. “i think it was an insult at first, but the name sort of stuck, kind of like with the Titans. so i made it my own.”)

and at last, Garfield Logan, the youngest of the group. with his dark green hair and toothy smile, Garfield was always quick to make him feel welcome and make him laugh with an endless amount of dumb jokes. his charisma and bright personality showed in his car. like his hair, it was a deep green. when he turned it on, the underneath glowed a neon green. black pawprints walked along the sides towards the end of the car. (“they’re actually tiger pawprints,” Gar corrected him once, looking excited as ever to explain. “there’s a few other animals too. i wanted it to look like the animals were really here, or like maybe i’m the animal? i dunno. i told everyone to call me Beast Boy, so i guess this would be my beast.”) they had another friend, Raven, that never raced with them. dressed in black with dark hair that he swore shone purple in certain lights, Raven was much more quiet and reserved than the rest of the group. Bart enjoyed her rare company, despite it being more of a companionable silence. he’d take it none the less. sometimes if Bart was able to hang out with Wally and the group outside of racing nights, he’d occasionally he’d bring along homework, a book, or a comic to read if Wally was meant to be busy at some point. he’d end up hanging out in one of their apartments while they were busy, and sometimes Raven would be there. they’d quietly read in each other’s company, never having to say a word. he’d asked Wally once why she didn’t race too. Wally had only laughed. (”we’re lucky that she doesn’t,” Wally told him, “if Raven raced, we’d all be doomed, trust me. you should never underestimate her.” Bart figured that meant that Raven was an undeniable part of the group too. he hoped he’d see her race one day.)

all of them were amazing, but Bart was a little stunned by each of them had their own unique style. they all had their own story and reason for being inspired to race. the one thing they all shared though was that same spark in their eyes Wally had.

needless to say, Bart would try to spend as much time with them as possible to try and learn from them.

his dream was to race, but his other dream was now to become just like them. he wanted to be a Titan.

he was too young at that time, but he would aim to prove that he could be good enough to join them one day. he would be a Titan.

or at least, he’d be close enough to being a Titan, he’d decide upon meeting a few other faces around his age, but that’s a story for another day. ...and that’s all we have for now, folks!

if you’re wondering why i chose only those Teen Titans, i didn’t want to make the group too big. i originally considered the OG Young Justice group, but found that i really wanted to save Superboy (Conner Kent, my beloved) to be apart of Bart’s friend group later. (not to mention, i REALLY wanted to talk about Street Racer! Kori existing in this AU. Beast Boy’s another favorite that i just HAD to include, thus we have the animated Teen Titans team, just with Wally and Dick having the same kind of friendship as kids like in YJ.)

let me know if you want any more from his idea! i’d love to know what you guys think of all this so far. if you ever want me to talk about anyone in particular, please feel free to ask! i’d totally be up to come up with more ideas! i’d also love to know if anyone has any thoughts about other characters might be like from this AU!

i really just came up with all this on the fly, but i’m honestly becoming attached to this AU already, so i’d be more than excited to talk more about it!

thanks for reading!!

#dc comics #dc street racing au #bart allen #wally west #dc impulse #kid flash #teen titans #i don't really know what all to tag this...#starfire #nightwing #beast boy #dc raven #dc cyborg #i guess??? they're mentioned #but also hella important to Bart's growth in this AU #i love them so much #they're all best friends your honor #jake's rambles

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Four

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast, back in her own clothes and covered in a cloak, hood pulled forward to hide her face, followed Din and Grogu through the bustling streets. It had been a long time since she'd been in the company of so many.

It was overstimulating. There were too many voices, too many scents, too many emotions bombarding her at once. She increased her pace, walking practically on Din's heels as she reached out and laid her fingertips against the beskar.

Blessed silence. Yes, she still heard the noise with her ears, but it no longer vibrated within her skull. Too long had she isolated herself to be this out of practice blocking out the world around her.

"Baast?"

She flinched and removed her hand. "Apologies. It is… loud. I have not been around this many people for some years."

He studied her for a moment before stepping closer. "The beskar blocks your abilities, doesn't it?"

She tilted her head. "To some extent, yes."

He handed her Grogu, then took her right hand and tucked her fingers at his elbow, allowing them to graze the silver of his vambrace.

The position of honour caused her mouth to gape. "Mando?"

"When I show up with you, it is highly probable Karga will make assumptions. Do not be alarmed if I don't dispute them."

"Ah," Baast nodded and accepted her place in their deception.

He led her through the market, Grogu babbling happily. Now that she wasn't fighting to shield her mind, she could focus on the people around them and the merchandise.

Spices, silks, pots, pans, and machine parts all crowded together, spilling from one booth to the next. The people called, cried, and bellowed in so many languages it was deafening for an all-new reason.

Baast had never allowed herself to enjoy such things before. Always she had remained vigilant, one step ahead of those hunting her, but she knew nothing would come that Din would not first see.

He was a great hunter. Grogu and his snippets of memory assured her of it.

Eventually, they left the market to walk dusty streets, heading into a more respectable, business-centric area of the city, finally arriving at a neatly whitewashed building with a plaque that read Magistrate above the door.

Baast hesitated.

"He's a friend."

She glanced up at Din and felt the small wave urging her to trust him bump against her. She did trust this Mandalorian. He would not put her in danger and motioned for him to continue.

The inside was as welcoming as the outside, with soft cream walls and individuals wearing brightly coloured clothing.

The female at the desk looked up, took them in, and pressed a button at her station. "The Mandalorian is here, Magistrate Kraga."

"Well, send him back!" bellowed from down the hallway.

The female rolled her eyes and waved them on.

Baast felt more than heard Din's amusement. "Who is he to you?" she whispered.

"He was Leader of the Bounty Hunters Guild. Now he's still that, but also Magistrate of Nevarro."

They were met in the doorway by a man of later years, the grey of his beard giving him a distinguished air that went well with his yellow and gold robes.

Someone more naive than Baast might have said he looked jolly, but she knew better. He was happy to see Din, certainly, but there was a sharpness to his smile and cunning to his eyes that bespoke a shrewd businessman lurked beneath the finery.

"Come in, Mando! You've had some success; I take it?" he asked.

Din tilted his head and motioned for the man to proceed them back into the room.

The Magistrate turned his cunning eyes her way, and Baast was suddenly very grateful for the heavy cloak.

"And you've brought a guest?"

"Greef Karga, Baast'mal," Din said, his voice without inflection.

"Charmed, I'm sure," the man said, attempting to peer past her hood.

Baast clutched Grogu to her and glanced up at Din. He made no move either way, just gave her the inscrutable visage of his visor.

"Pirusti met," she murmured.

Karga's brow whipped up like it was alive, surprise written on his face. "Speaks Mando'a, hmm? Did you take a riduur and not tell me, my friend?"

As he warned her, Din didn't dispute it, and Karga jumped to his own conclusions with a toothy smile.

"Well, congratulations! A clan of three! Come, we will drink to your good fortune."

"You mean you will drink," Din chuckled and made his way across the room to a small couch where he motioned Baast to sit with Grogu as he approached the man's desk and pulled three pucks from his pocket. "You can celebrate for us later. We have somewhere else to be."

Karga stared at the pucks, eyebrow slowly winging upward. "Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four. Surely no one escapes the Great Mandalorian?"

"The last was dead on arrival. Body retrieval wasn't an option."

Baast fought not to shudder and looked down when Grogu tapped her chest. A wave of soothing calm went through her, and she forced herself to relax.

Karga peered at Din for a long time before his gaze shifted to Baast. "You know, the last time you refused to turn in a bounty - or rather when you liberated a bounty after turning them in - they wound up bound to you. If I were the suspicious sort, I would wonder at the sudden appearance of a riduur and lack of a fourth body."

Din didn't move, he said nothing, yet it was as if he grew bigger and sucked the air from the room. The swelling wave of menace left Baast breathless.

Then Karga grinned. "Good thing I'm not the suspicious sort."

The heavy feeling subsided, and Baast sucked in a full breath.

"Should they ask, you tell them she's dead."

Karga nodded. "I'll log the information myself." Then, he opened a drawer and reached inside before sliding an ingot of beskar across the table. "For your trouble."

Din visually stiffened, betraying his surprise. "Where did you get that?"

"Off the Imps after this last round of clean up."

"You have others?"

Karga shook his head before throwing a handful of credits down beside it. "That should make us even."

"It does. Get your cargo off my ship." Everything went in a pouch on Din's belt.

Karga pressed a button on his desk. "Tana'ya, send the boys."

The bodies encased in carbonite would soon be off the ship. While Baast didn't mind them, the bodies within were in stasis - dreamless and without emotion - their startled or angry faces were slightly disturbing.

"Now, a question for your lady before you leave," Karga smiled, and Baast went still. The man was far too interested in her. "Is it true Mandalorian wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Again Din stiffened, betraying himself in a way Baast was not used to. "She says, "Foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger.'" Almost too low to hear, he murmured, "My woman is all warrior."

Pride filled her and straightened her spine before despair crashed down. She could not be his woman. She could not condemn him to half a life if their bonds failed.

Grogu's hands caressed her face, comfort offered in the gesture.

She bent and kissed his wrinkled green head. "Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad," she whispered, claiming what might be her only opportunity to have a child by adopting this one. "I know your name as my child," she translated near his large ear when his gentle curiosity filled her, the two of them hidden beneath her hood.

He cooed and patted her face, encouraging her not to give up hope, but Baast had lost hope years ago with her first mutation. Hope was a hard thing to cling to when one's teeth fell out.

The distressed cry from Grogu - who had the misfortune of picking up on that particularly disturbing memory - had Din before them in an instant. He dropped to a knee to sit Baast back when she hadn't even realized she was slumping forward over her knees.

He peered into the shadows of the deep hood. "Baast?"

"It is nothing," she whispered, fighting tears and a trembling lip.

"Mando?" Karga murmured, sounding genuinely concerned.

Din spoke over his shoulder. "Shut down your recording devices and give us a moment… please."

Karga appeared stunned by the please before pressing a button on his desk. He headed for the door but paused to open a small cabinet. "There is water here should she need it."

The quiet click of the door closing announced his exit before Din was thrusting back her hood. "Baast, what is it?"

"Nothing," she whispered, closing her eyes, her heart tearing itself in two.

Soft and warm, his bare hands cradled her face and swept the tears spilling from her eyes away. "This isn't nothing. I want to help. Let me."

"You cannot help this," she insisted. "I am too broken."

"You're not broken. Baast, tell me what's wrong?"

Unable to hold out against his kindness, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with Grogu safe between them. "I realized I would never have warriors. I will never know the joy of growing a new life. The closest I will ever come to being a mother is with Grogu."

Though he held her gently, it was a little stiff. It made her think he hadn't hugged many people or any, but eventually, his arms tightened, and hands began to stroke tenderly along her spine. "You don't know that."

"If I cannot bond with my mate, I cannot breed," she whispered the horrible truth into his cowl.

His hands stilled. She could almost feel him processing that information. Then, ever so gently, he murmured, "Aliit ori'shya tal'din."

Family is more than blood.

She clung tighter and wept into the beskar of her star-crossed mate.

***

Din kept his hand on Baast's hooked at his elbow as they walked through the market on their way back to the ship. She was subdued, far too quiet after her revelation. When he took her down the aisle where they sold clothing, she picked what she needed and nothing more.

He added to the pile, haggled down the price and hauled the sack of new things over his shoulder before offering his arm. His whole body ached for her. He didn't know what to say, what to do, how to comfort her after this.

It had reduced the once-proud set of her jaw to a resigned tuck as she walked silently beside him. She was despondent and not at all the proud, fierce Zentari he knew her to be.

Maker ! He didn't know how to snap her out of this self-induced funk.

When she yanked him, beskar and all, into a narrow alleyway between two booths, Din wondered if he would have to. "Baast?"

"Someone comes for you," she growled, removing her hand from his armour, likely to open herself to this person's mind. "They are intent on finding you."

He was already reaching for his blaster. "Do they mean us harm?"

"I cannot tell. I can just feel the urgency. They are after you. Come." Baast turned and sprinted down the alley.

Din went after her, amazed by her agility as she went up the corner of two buildings and over a roof as smoothly as she'd run down the street. He followed with only slightly less grace and paced her as they ran silently above the market.

She swung around a corner and came to a stop on the balcony of a two-story home before throwing back her hood. "They persist." She handed him Grogu before snaking the beskar spear from his back.

"Baast, let me-"

She growled so fiercely Din took a step in retreat. "They come for you, not me. I will stop them. Go. Get Grogu to the ship."

"I'm not leaving you here!" he insisted.

Baast snarled and snapped her teeth together before shrugging her cloak to the ground and going up the wall. She was gone so fast, he barely had time to register her disappearance before a sharp cry and harsh grunt rang out a few buildings back.

"Kriff!" he hissed, snatching up her cloak before running after her.

He leapt the space between buildings in time to watch Baast take Cara Dune's feet out from under her and put the ex-shock trooper on her ass. Then his spear was headed for Cara's chest.

"Baast, stop!"

She did, so sharply and with so much control she went from in motion to motionless in an instant. "You know this one?"

"She's a friend."

Baast stepped back, dropped the butt of the spear to the ground and scowled at him. "You have too many."

He threw her the cloak, she tossed him the spear, both catching their items in the same instant. It sent a funny flutter to his heart.

As Baast shrugged back into her cloak, Din crossed to Cara and held down his hand.

She glared up at him, sporting a black eye and bloody lip. "Maker, Mando. Where'd you find this one?"

Baast hissed like an angry cat before tucking her braids into her hood and lifting it over her head.

He was finding this all too amusing and too damn close to his dream to be real. "Cara Dune, Baast'mal."

Grogu cooed and reached with grabby hands for Cara, who accepted Din's and let him haul her to her feet. "Hey! Womp rat! I've missed you."

She reached for the kid, but the low growl from Baast had the three of them glancing her way. Her hands were clenched in fists, and though he could no longer see her eyes, he knew she glared at the lack of space between Grogu and Dune.

"Nayc," Baast growled.

"Why?" Din asked.

"Kaysh cuyir ner adiik."

He was only surprised for a moment. After her earlier emotions, it shouldn't have phased him she'd taken Grogu as her child.

"She is a friend," he murmured. "You can trust her with Grogu."

"Grogu?" Cara muttered. "Mando, what the kriff is this?"

"Ni taylir him o'r ner kar'ta," Baast growled, clenching her fists.

Din held out his hand, Grogu strangely silent like any Mandalore child would be when an unknown female attempted to touch the heart bound child of another. Grogu wasn't just a foundling to Baast, not anymore. She had accepted him as her child.

This could all go sideways if he wasn't careful.

"Olaror," Din murmured, beckoning Baast to his side. "Udesla." He encouraged her to be calm when she arrived and placed her hand in his. "Haalur," he whispered for her ears alone. "No one will take him from us, but Dune has helped me get him back and keep him safe. You can trust her."

"I trust you," Baast sighed, her hand again finding its way to his elbow. "This place makes my hackles jump."

Suddenly, Cara wavered, her body rocking before she dropped to one knee. "Mando?" She fell to her side and rolled to her back. Her breath came hard and fast as dark lines raced to show her veins beneath her flesh.

"That looks like poison," Din stated, handing Grogu to Baast before dropping down beside Cara.

"It is."

He glanced up in time to watch Baast throw back her hood and kneel beside him. "What are you talking about?

She held up an index finger and flexed it gently. From beneath the black nail emerged a sharp spine that glistened at the hollow tip. "They called it my Snake Tooth. It is full of Sand Cat venom. It appears I caught her with it. I thought her foe at the time."

"Maker," Din whispered.

Dune was a dead woman.

"Give me your cuisse," Baast commanded as she set Grogu down, then batted his hands away. "No, ad'ika. It is more than you can heal. I will fix her."

"How?" Din asked as Dune began to claw at the ground. The pain must be excruciating, but she kept her teeth clenched.

"Your cuisse!" Baast snapped. "We have not much time."

He began to unbuckle the thigh guard. "What are you going to do, Baast?"

The words barely cleared his lips before she reached into her mouth and yanked out a tooth.

"Kriff!" he bellowed as blood dripped down her chin. "What was that?"

She swiped at her face, smearing blood before snatching his cuisse and turning it into a makeshift dish. "Your canteen."

He handed it over. "Baast?"

"I inherited the Manka's teeth. It is another reason they fight so hard to retrieve me." She ground the canteen down on the tooth, then added enough water to dissolve the powder before bringing his cuisse to Cara's blackening lips. "Drink and live."

Cara's wild eyes rolled to him, and Din nodded. She could trust Baast, even if the one had just tried to kill the other.

Baast poured the liquid into Cara's mouth and made sure she swallowed before handing the thigh guard back to Din.

"How long does it take-"

"What the kriff is going on here!" Cara spat as she launched herself into a seated position, black lines receding like they were being erased.

"Hn. I see," Din chuckled. Faster than he had expected. He pulled a rag from his pocket, one always close at hand with Grogu around and dumped water on it before reaching to clean the blood from Baast's face. "How long until the tooth regrows?"

"Three weeks." Baast's lashes fluttered. She leaned into his hand like a cat enjoying the petting.

It made him sick, wondering how she knew that with such assurance. How many times had her torturers pulled her teeth?

"You will want to avoid alcohol for the next full day. The powder will not allow harm to befall you. That includes pouring poison into your liver," Baast warned.

"What did you just do to me?" Cara demanded.

"Saved your life. In the process, the Manka teeth make you invulnerable to harm for the next day." Baast lunged and laid Cara out, her sharp claws clenched around Cara's neck. "Do not waste this gift, and do not speak of it to anyone," she snarled.

"Or what?" Cara forced out. "I'm invulnerable to harm."

"I can still tear out your throat. Even my abilities cannot repair that." Baast gave her a bloody smile that was terrifying to see before releasing Dune and retrieving Grogu.

"I see you've made a new friend," Dune muttered. "She'd be hot if she wasn't terrifying."

Din smirked and helped Cara to her feet. "She is something."

She looked at him and arched a brow. "I think you like her."

He said nothing.

"Maker! You do!" Cara laughed and shook her head. "You know Karga thinks you married her. That she's something called a riduur? I said there's no way, not our Mando, but now I'm not sure."

She peered up at him as if she could see through the visor. Din stared back until she huffed and shook her head.

"Well, she fights dirty, so I guess that's a good thing. I never even felt her scratch me with that snake thingy."

"Snake Tooth," he murmured, watching Baast smile at Grogu as the little one played with the end of her braid.

"And she's sure not hard on the eyes," Dune murmured.

Jealousy soured Din's stomach. Baast was not his to covet, yet he wanted to. He wanted everyone to see how mesh'la she was, but he also wanted to hide her beauty away, let it be just for him to admire.

"What did you want, Dune?" he asked coldly.

She appeared to shake herself from Baast's thrall and turned toward him. "I just wanted to see the kid and check-in before you left again. Nothing exciting ever happens around here unless you're involved," she grinned.

"Was this excitement enough?" Din asked, amused.

"Nah," Cara scoffed. "That's a typical afternoon," she chuckled.

He snickered, watching Baast's face light up when Grogu chattered in coos and babbles. She murmured to him, spoke Mando'a so low she probably thought he couldn't hear her, but he could. He could hear her calling him sweet baby as she stroked his ear before she lifted him beneath her chin and rumbled that sound that made the thing in his chest purr back.

If that didn't quit, he would have to get it checked by the covert's resident healer.

It couldn't be healthy.

***

Pirusti met - well met

Nayc - no

Kaysh cuyir ner adiik - he is my child

Ni taylir him o'r ner kar'ta - I hold him in my heart

Olaror - come

Udesla - calm

Haalur - breathe

ad'ika - little one

***

Next Chapter

#star-crossed:bound by blood #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc

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