#TW: Murder Attempt

[phoenix-flamed]

In regards to my modern AU verse. I have a rather heavy headcanon that I've been mulling over, and I think I'm going to go with it, because while this is an AU... by now you guys have probably noticed that I am incredibly uncreative and like to take influence or give nods to canon elements, even in AUs.

This headcanon's going to involve domestic abuse/domestic violence and threat of murder or attempted murder, and will be tagged appropriately for these topics. Still, reader discretion is advised, and I do want to note that anyone who interacts with this verse is absolutely not required to adhere to this headcanon. I know it's an incredibly heavy, touchy, sensitive, uncomfortable topic, and while I will aim to remain respectful, it's inevitably not going to be suitable for everyone.

If it isn't comfortable for you, just let me know, and the reason for the divorce in our specific threads will be left as a general case of "irreconcilable differences" or simply, "it just didn't work out."

In my modern AU verse for this blog, Elwin and Anabella are divorced, with Elwin having been the one to leave and file for it.

The reason for this is because Anabella pulled a knife on him in a fit of anger. Whether she simply threatened him or tried to attack him is never clarified, mostly because Elwin doesn't want to talk about it. Why am I taking this route with their relationship, despite how extreme it is? Because of the fact that Anabella in XVI's canon story had no qualms with having him murdered, and she revealed at the end of her life just how much she had resented Elwin and all of the reasons why. Even in a modern setting, I don't personally feel that these feelings and this reaction would be out of the realm of possibility for her character, given that in spite of this being an AU, she is still her. She is still the same core character, as is my Elwin.

This verse isn't written specifically to be a "happy AU", though if that's something you're interested in setting up, especially if you're playing Anabella, Clive, Joshua, or even Byron, I'm more than happy to do that with you!

But yes. Elwin doesn't discuss the true reason behind the divorce, or rather likely will not do so in RP threads. He doesn't even like to discuss the fact that they are divorced -- which, while he usually hides the depths of his feelings on the matter with a silly sort of reply of "It's complicated", the truth is that it really IS complicated.

Prior to that event, their relationship had become increasingly more strained due to disagreements between them, but there had never been violence. To him, the attack seemed unprompted, though in hindsight it's clear that his wife had been harboring quite a bit of resentment and anger towards him, and misery regarding their marriage, that she had simply never revealed to him.

He does still love her, regardless of how she feels towards him. He will not, however, go back to her. He does try to get full custody of the boys, or at the very least of Clive -- though whether or not it works is going to be left up to a case by case basis.

#Headcanons #TW: Domestic Abuse #CW: Domestic Abuse #TW: Domestic Violence #CW: Domestic Violence #TW: Murder Threat #CW: Murder Threat #TW: Murder Attempt #CW: Murder Attempt

[five-rivers]

Ancestral 8

There were two more visitors after that.  The Speaker for the Assembly, a woman whose popularity had been derived from her position as poet laureate many years before, and Father Gylefa, who wasn’t quite the head of the rather informal Church of Avlynys.  Like Matthew, they wanted to go over coordination and what, exactly, would be said.  

“Are you sure you want to do this before Alicia gets here?” asked Father Gylefa, tugging at his cross-and-eye necklace in a familiar nervous gesture.

Matthew gave him a long-suffering look.

Father Gylefa raised his hands.  “It would be a reasonable excuse.  I stand by what I said about you needing time to process.”

“The country can’t afford it,” said the Speaker.  “We only stayed out of the economic crisis the Faroes are having by the skin of our teeth and the efforts of the School of Heroes.”  She curled her lip.  “And I just heard from the First Shadow that we have some billionaire tech mogul trying to bully his way through the flight lockdown.”

Danny felt his stomach drop.  Vlad.  Couldn’t he mind his own business for five minutes?  The list of things that Danny didn’t want was very, very long at this point, but he had the impression that Vlad coming to Avlynys would be explosive one way or another.  

(Especially given that harassing a princess was technically still on the books as a capital offense.)

The Speaker looked apologetic, but she continued.  “We need a king.  Or a queen.  And a Secretary, which we can’t elect without a monarch.  I’m a legislator and advisor, I’m not supposed to be directly receiving spy reports.”

“I know,” said Matthew.  “God and all those gone before help me, but I know.”

Father Gylefa patted his shoulder, then looked past him at Danny and Jazz.  “Ah,” he said, “it has been a while, Danny, Jazz.  You’ve grown.”  His expression grew a touch colder.  “Madeline.”  Then, frostier still.  “Mr. Fenton.”

The Church of Avlynys came into being when, upon being given the cover of Henry VIII’s founding of the Church of England, the entire archipelago leapt gleefully into open heresy.  As such, in addition to being only loosely organized, it was also distinctly heterodox… and had been a staunch opponent of witch trials.  

That wasn’t to say it didn’t have problems and had never, ever, participated in any form of religious oppression (it had, sadly).  But it could pull out a very plausible moral high ground now and again.

No one in the family had really approved of Maddie marrying Jack, a ghost hunter.  The extensive background check turning up witch hunters in the family tree hadn’t helped.  

Most of the family had… lost some of their hostility towards Jack over time.  Father Gylefa hadn’t.  

And, unlike the situation with Vlad, Jack was very aware of it.

“Mr. Gylefa,” replied Jack with the exact same intonation.  

“Haha, yeah,” said Danny.  “That’s us, just shooting up.  Maybe we’ll beat the family height record, yeah?”

One of their medieval ancestors was supposed to have been seven feet tall, so…  that was unlikely.  But Danny wasn’t sure what else to say.  

The Speaker sighed.  “I’ll go get things started.  It won’t be long before we call for you, your highnesses, lords and ladies, Mr. Fenton.”

Jack watched her go with an expression of resigned offense.  From there, Father Gylefa made small talk with the rest of the family while Matthew fretted, Maddie watched silently, and Jack attempted to make friendly overtures.  

It was so painful that Danny was almost glad when they were called out into the Assembly Hall, leaving Sophia, Irene and Jack to watch from the doorway.  

The huge room resembled an amphitheater in some ways.  There were seats in curved tiers around the sides of the room, and in the center was a circular raised dais with a small moat-like channel cut between it and the first rank of seats.  The dias had a mosaic map of Avlynys set into it, the nine islands picked out in surprising detail.  

The Assembly itself didn’t take up all of the seats.  In less grim circumstances, the upper ranks would be filled with a wide variety of observers, from schoolchildren, to lobbyists, to would-be politicians, to ordinary citizens there on a whim.  Right now, the only observers were local journalists and a singular camera crew.

(Danny hoped that no one he knew back in Amity watched the governmental news channels of tiny nordic countries as a hobby.  This was the first time he and Jazz were publicly appearing as part of the royal family, and he hadn’t really thought through what that entailed.)

Behind the seats, the walls of the hall were filled with traditional Avlynyse heraldry.  The Tree and Pond, nine stars picked out among the curling branches and reflected in the blue-green waters.  The Ancestors’ Eye, bright green and multiplied.  The Nine Sisters, standing on the islands they anthropomorphized like stepping stones.  The Hero’s Arms, rendered variously as a spear and scroll or a knife and a book.  

It was an impressive room.  Not as big as parliament, or congress, but still impressive.  

Also very intimidating.

The family gathered around the edge of the dais, with Matthew standing tall in the middle of their line.

The Speaker walked out along the walkway to the center of the dais and began to speak.  “Hyr, todag, sy folk sal coronyn Mathyw Alfryd sy Bisige yf sy Hys Dyryse Avlynyse, Sunn Ynyse…”

Danny mentally translated for himself: Here, today, the people shall crown Mathyw Alfryd the Diligent of the House of Dyrys of Avlynys, Son of the Isles, Blood of Kings and Heroes.  Are there any of the House of Dyrys who would oppose this?  One who speaks would call those of the blood to bear witness.

There was a beat of silence.

“Athlyng Yonna Loryn Dyrys Avlynyse, do thou beryn wytnes?”

Lovely thing about Avlynys was that everyone born there had a completely legal English name, and an equally legal Avlynyse name.  

Joanna stepped forward, spine ruler-straight, hands clasped in front of herself.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn.”  I bear witness and say nothing in opposition.

“Athlyng Madlyn Myra Dyrys Avlynyse, do thou beryn wytnes?”

Maddie took her place next to her cousin.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn.”

“Ledyn Yugyn Kartyr Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

Eugene took his place significantly more gingerly.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn.”

“Ledyn Lwys Theydyr Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

Lewis nodded before answering.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn.”

“Ledyn Irys Yvlyn Dyrys, Ledyn Georg Lyk Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

The twins moved forward together.  Born at the same time, they had the same rank in traditional rituals.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn,” they said together.

“Ledyn Leo Alfryd Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

“Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn,” said Leo, his voice cracking.  He looked past Lewis and the twins to where Vivian would usually stand during something like this.

“Ledyn Yazmyn Roz Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

There was some whispering from the Assembly, but Jazz stepped forward, leaving Danny alone at the edge of the dais except for Matthew, apparently unaffected.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn.”  She broke protocol by just a hair to look back at Danny.  

“Ledyn Dannyl Ymaz Dyrys, do thou beryn wytnes?”

Danny, full of nerves, almost tripped over his own feet, but he managed to reach his assigned place.  “Yn beryn wytnes ekyn sagyn no agyn,” he said, echoing all the others, but very aware of how American his accent was.  What else was he going to say?  That he should be declared king?  

That was ridiculous.  

The Speaker bowed to them, “So, kumyn, Athlyng Mathyw.  Syon thy folk.”

Matthew walked past them, to the opposite edge of the dias.

“Athlyng Mathyw, wel thou sweryn…”  Prince Mathyw, will you swear to your people to serve and defend them, in all ways written in the law, in body and spirit?  To lead them in the dark and the light?”

As far as binding oaths went, Danny thought it was simple and elegant.  The metaphor might be used by someone being a literal genie like, say, Desiree, but as far as humans went, it was understandable and clear.  

“Yn wel sweryn so,” replied Matthew.  

The Speaker nodded sharply, and called for the Cup of the Oath.  The Cupbearer - yes, it was an official position, but it didn’t hold all that much responsibility… or at least, it hadn’t - hurried in from the wings, holding up the ancient gold goblet.  Other aides followed in his wake, moving to distribute more modern glasses among the Assembly.  

Danny hardly noticed them, however.  His attention was on the furious and frightened-looking ghosts following the Cupbearer.  Danny hadn’t even noticed when Vivian and Gwensyvyr had slipped away, too caught up with his own nerves, but now…

Vivian flew up into his face, teeth bared, cuts on her skin bleeding pink.  Danny looked at her, looked at Gwensyvyr’s broad and exaggerated pointing at the goblet, looked at Matthew, who was even now reaching out to take it, reached a conclusion, and made a decision.  

“Wait!” he said, stumbling forward, one hand raised.  “Stop!”

One of the servers dropped a wineglass.  Matthew turned to face him, every inch of his skin drenched in consternation.  Maddie grabbed his elbow and dragged him back into line, albeit in the wrong spot.

“Don’t,” said Maddie, quietly.  “You don’t want to expose yourself to the pol–”

“I’m probably just being paranoid,” said Danny, loudly, clearly, projecting his voice.  He tried not to look at the ghosts, more than one of whom had taken on a distinct posture of relief.  “But, cousin…  Will you test it?  Before you drink?  Just in case.”

The Cupbearer’s mouth, already open, dropped even further.  “I tested it!” he objected. 

“Danny,” said Matthew, quietly, clearly trying to salvage the situation.  “Dannyl, we’ve tested everything here dozens of times, after what… happened.  It’s fine.”

The ghosts seemed to think otherwise.

Danny pulled away from Maddie and took a couple quick steps forward, wanting to make his case again - or be in a position to knock away the cup if Matthew suddenly grabbed it - whereupon the Cupbearer threw the contents of the goblet at Danny.  

Wine dripped down his face.  

Matthew inhaled deeply and pressed his hands together as if praying for patience.  Danny wasn’t paying too much attention, having noticed something much more disturbing than Matthew reaching the end of his rope.  

“Your Majesty,” squeaked the Cupbearer.  “I’m so sor–” 

“Not crowned yet,” said Matthew.  “Danny–”

“I can’t feel my skin,” said Danny.  Belatedly, he remembered basic lab safety - a common problem in his family, apparently - and started stripping off the clothes that had been soaked by the wine.

“Oh, god,” said Maddie, barely audible.  

“What?”  

“I can’t feel my skin,” said Danny.  “I’m going numb.  I can’t - ow, heck.”  Formal clothes were hard to get off when your vision was doing funny things.  

“Medics!” snapped Matthew and there was a small commotion that Danny could hear but not see.  “Security, arrest this man!”

“Sir, we have to move you to a safer location.”

“I will not–”

“Danny–”  

“Don’t!”  Danny told Jazz.  “I don’t want you to get any of this on you.”

“Danny, are you–?”

“Dad, don’t!”  The words came out slurred.  The wine was still on his face, on his hands, dripping and dribbling down his neck.  Was it safe to use his clothing to try and wipe it off?

Danny could feel his heart and breathing start to slow.  Not to the point where it was dangerous to him, but he didn’t like the implications.  

“Jazz,” he said, “my kit–”

“I’ll bring it to you, as soon as I can.”

“Sir?” said someone.  “My name is Emily, and I’m trained in first aid.  If you could turn towards me…”

#tw: murder attempt #tw: poison #danny phantom #ectoberhaunt22 #ectoberhaunt day 21: coronation and coup #ancestral fic

[funbonded]

🖤⃝𓊈𒆜 @cantfixyou​ 𒆜𓊉࿐ counted:  “Thought I found a way… thought I found a way out.” ( from the lyrics ask meme ! )

༻︶𓏶︶༺  a whole buncha lyrics from my playlist, bc i can … sentence starters

He leaned forward, batting his own knees with hand and stub. His elation evident in his every move.  ❝ Aha-YES! Well that’s just the FUNNY thing about LIFE, isn’t it? NO ONE makes it out ALIVE! ❞

The panda hummed to himself as he paraded around the small, locked compartment within his attraction. Those charging stations had some use after all. Funfred hadn’t liked them too much, he always drained the batteries from elsewhere but now he’s found a use for them! ❝ No, no, no. I wouldn’t make it so easy for you, my dear. I know how you LOVE  a mystery! ❞ He, for one, was thoroughly enjoying this game of cat and mouse. Though better to watch the mouse suffer first. This was HIS Funhouse after all. He was king of all he surveyed here. 

✟ Ƒ Ƒ｡✟ -   ❝   Perhaps I’ll be GENEROUS and let you struggle a little more. I mean, I’m ENTICED by just what you think you’re going to do next to free yourself? Perhaps I should make it EVEN MORE OF A CHALLENGE, hm? I mean you’re not in danger at all presently. Not until I up the voltage, that is.  ❞

#† YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE | ic #✟ EXECUTED | answered #✝ FUNTIME FREDDY'S SLAUGHTER HOUSE GREAT FOR THE KIDDIES | Security Breach Divergent v. #cantfixyou #tw: electricution #tw: murder attempt

[bananadramaaa]

TW: murder attempt, burning

The main inspiration for this comics - Burn The Witch by Radiohead🔥

Suddenly small continuation here(second part)

#toh #the owl house #toh emperor belos #emperor belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #wittebane brothers #wittebros #tw murder attempt #tw burning #comics #toh spoilers #myart #i hope all is well with grammar english isn't easy sometimes #toh fanart

[gglitch1dd]

The Contract Pt 3

Context: When you broke up with Katsuki, you thought it was the end for you. No marriage. No family. No white picket fence. You had spent so much time on Katsuki and now it all just fell to the wind. But what if a certain green haired hero offered you a contract, offered you the dream life of security and happiness all for the small price of being his wife? Love wasn’t in the plan but maybe it was in the fine print.

Basically: Reader dumps Katsuki and goes for Izuku.

Main Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

<Masterlist> <PART 1> <PART 2> <PART 4>

Warning: Money money money, ATTEMPTED MURDER, the power of an Asain mom's slipper, jealousy is a disease. "Okaasan" means "mother" in Japanese.

“So you must be Mrs Midoriya?”

You smiled gently as you offered her your hand, shaking it firmly with a gentle laugh. “Not yet. Midoriya is my soon to be surname.” You told the real estate agent.

 It had been around two months since you and Midoriya had signed everything off and were in a contract of convenience. You had both agreed that it would be good to start fresh, to move in together while everything else- including the wedding- was being sorted. Right now you were apartment hunting and trying to do your best to find the ideal apartment for the both of you.

You stood in the private lounge of the luxury apartment building, where you had been waiting on the Real Estate Agent to appear. Ms Hanako stood proudly in stilettos and a professional skirt with a buttoned up white shirt. She smiled over at you. “Will Mr Midoriya be joining us?” She asked you.

You nodded your head. “Yes, he’s just running a little late but he said he should be here in a minute.” You informed her. Midoriya had a meeting in the last ten minutes that he said he had to go to but he promised that he would be here with you for viewing apartments today, even going as far as to clear his schedule for the rest of the day. “We apologise about that, he gets caught up in work a lot.” You weren’t lying. Midoriya was known to be quite the workaholic. He wasn’t Number One hero for no reason after all.

She shook her head with a chuckle as she lifted up her tablet to her face. “No, no it’s fine. I see here that the two of you didn’t specify a budget that you’re working with.” She said her face scrunched up a bit in confusion before looking up at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows as well, remembering that the two of you had discussed it. “Oh… that’s a mistake on our part.” You told her honestly. “We agreed on-”

“Sorry, I’m late.” Walking into the lounge was Midoriya as he took off his cap and ruffled his hair again. You turned towards him with a bright smile, Ms. Hanako’s eyes growing large at the sight of the Number One hero of the country. Midoriya adjusted the watch around his wrist before taking place next to you. “There was a lot more traffic than I thought there would be down Main.” He reported before putting a hand on the small of your back, looking down at you with a smirk mixed with a smile. “Sorry about that, my love.” He moved to place a kiss on your forehead. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

You smiled up at him with a soft chuckle. “It’s fine, honey, you’re just on time.” You moved a curl out of his face, before turning back to the still shocked real estate agent.

Midoriya smiled customarily, a smile he normally used in public appearances. He nodded his head. “You must be Miss Hanako, our real estate agent?” He asked, looking at you for confirmation.

Quickly she straightened up and bowed at the waist before him. “Mr. Deku.” She let out, her voice slightly higher pitched than she was before. “I didn’t know you were my client, I would have-”

“No, please, it's alright.” Midoriya quickly dismissed it with a chuckle. “Call me Midoriya, I’m off the clock right now.” He told her. She looked up from her bow and straightened up, nodding her head trying not to combust in front of him.

You giggled softly, finding it rather amusing. “She told me that we didn’t specify our range that we were going with.” You told him motioning towards the dark-haired woman in front of the both of you.

That peaked his interest as his eyebrows raised. Then almost like a lightbulb going on, it hit him. “Right…” He let out with a snap of his fingers. “Sorry, I forgot to fill it in when booking for the consultation.” He said with a bow of the head. “My apologies.” You felt his hand snake around you, putting his hand on your hip as he kept you to his side. You felt heat rise up your neck but you stayed as relaxed as possible to not rouse suspicion. Midoriya kept his eyes on Ms. Hanako. “How does 10 sound?”

“Million?”

“Billion Yen.” She let out a squeak at the change in zeros. You turned to look up at him, shocked knowing that wasn’t the price you both agreed upon. He then racked through his head trying to think of converting it. “How much is that? 10 million dollars? I don’t know, somewhere there.” He waved his hand off. “I’m not sure, let’s not put a price on it. If we like it, I’ll buy it.” He dismissed.

You gave him a tense smile as you nudged him slightly. “Honey…” You gave him a pointed look, it was still a bit weird calling him by his first name which is why you rather called him by nicknames instead. Not that you couldn’t call him by his given name, he encouraged it, but you were trying to get used to it on the down low first. “Isn’t that a bit much?” You asked him. “I thought we agreed on just a little less than half that price.”

“Yah but…” He turned to look down at you with a tilt of his head and a smirk. “I want to spoil my fiancé.” He reminded you. You felt a blush go to your face. “Besides, we’re buying, not renting. This isn’t like a yearly expense thing. I don’t mind spending that much.” He told you honestly. He turned back to Ms. Hanako who still seemed shocked. “So is that okay with you?”

She was frozen for a moment glancing at you before looking back at Midoriya. She nodded her head with a quick smile. “Of course, I know just the right apartments for you guys.” She assured with a smile, before motioning with one hand for the both of you to follow her. You did as she was saying, maintaining a close proximity with her as she led you two towards the elevator. “As you both know, we pride ourselves in the safety and privacy of all our residents here. Being near the centre of the city really helps commuting to and from work or any other activities here and the city. We do have many other proheroes and their families that live in our buildings as well.” She notified the both of you, scanning her hand before the elevator opened. You moved into the elevator with her as she pushed the second highest floor. “We actually had Proheroes Dynamight and Red Riot move in just a year ago.” She informed the both of you proudly, making you tighten your grip on your purse. Suddenly, you weren’t feeling so sure about living here.

You felt Midoriya move his hand off of your side and clasping your hand that was closest to him. His large hand encased your smaller one, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb lightly as to try and calm you down and relax at the news that was just told. You tightened your hold on him, squeezing his hand in gratitude. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh yes.” She nodded her head. “Of course, for privacy reasons, I can’t disclose where or which of our buildings they live in but yes.” Midoriya hummed, making a mental note to find out later.

The elevator dinged after a while and Ms Hanako stepped out into the hallway. “We have two apartments on this floor, both designed similarly in making.” She walked over to the door on the left. With a swipe of one of the cards she had with her, she motioned for the both of you to enter.

You looked around with wide eyes at the prestigiousness of the penthouse. The windows were huge with flawless glass panes that let in sunlight perfectly. You looked to your right at the spacious open floor plan. You noticed a second floor above you. Midoriya looked around with a raised eyebrow. “It’s like a slightly larger version of my apartment.” You heard him mutter to himself which only made you choke back a snort.

Ms. Hanako motioned around the apartment with a smile. “This is a two-floor apartment with three bedrooms, 5 bathrooms (three being in-suites), including a study, laundry room, pantry and balcony. Stands at around 6 million.” She stated as she led you through the apartment itself. You looked around with wide eyes, liking the look of it. She took you upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms before turning to the both of you. “These are one of our best apartments for ready and growing families.” She hinted with a wink.

You glanced over to Midoriya who looked over to you. He smirked over at you putting his hands on his hips. “Well, isn’t that great news, sweetheart.” He asked you, dripping in amusement as he kept his green eyes on you. He then motioned to Ms. Hanako. “We’ve been thinking of having kids.” He said with a proud smile on his face.

“Somewhere in the future.” You interjected with a tense smile.

Ms. Hanako's smile broadened as she clasped her hands together. “That’s wonderful!”

“I know, right?”

You gave Midoriya a pointed look when Ms. Hanako looked away from the both of you. He gave you a thumbs up in agreement, making you roll your eyes. After she led you around, she allowed the two of you to roam by yourselves for a moment. The process repeated as she took you to see two other apartments. After a long day of looking at apartments and shopping, you both ended back at your apartment.

Most of your items were already in boxes, sold or ready to be moved out. While the both of you looked for an apartment, you decided you would move in with Midoriya in the meantime. Midoriya grabbed another slice of pizza out of the box with a hum and a smile.

You shook your head in amusement as you leaned against the counter. “You know, for someone who boasts healthy living, I’ve nearly never seen someone who eats as much as you.” You pointed out motioning to him with the same hand that you held your soda can in.

Midoriya flicked his gaze up at you. He shrugged before motioning to himself. “I’m a big man.” He pointed out to you making you chuckle. “I’ve got to eat a lot. Stock up on calories I’ll burn later. All this muscle doesn’t sustain itself.” He nodded his head, almost proud of his reasoning towards you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Muscles or fat?” He looked at you with a gasp and a hand to his chest, deeply offended, making you laugh. There was a knock at your door. You kicked yourself off the counter and made your way out of the kitchen to the door. “Don’t finish the pizza.”

“Well I don’t feel so inclined to listen to you anymore.” He spoke filled with pettiness making you laugh.

You opened the door without checking through the peephole. “Hello- oh.” You froze as you saw who stood in front of you.

Bakugou stood with his hands in front of him. The blond prohero opened his mouth to speak but seemed just as frozen as you. His crimson eyes were stuck on you and your being, feeling choked up and without any words to say. His eyes… they were something you loved so dearly about him and yet as you looked into them now face to face you felt as if they were suffocating you. His tall demeanour seemed to soften at the sight of you. He cleared his throat straightening up in front of you.

“Y/N, I… I know you probably don’t want me in the kids' life but I promise you I will do everything in my power to be the best parent to it.” He told you. Your eyes widened once you registered what you were saying. He thought over what he had just said. “Them.” He corrected himself. “Whatever they are.”

You blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Uh… Katsuki, what are you talking about?” You asked him with a tilt of his head.

Bakugou swallowed down hard as he motioned towards you. “Your… your kid. Our kid.”

“Our kid?” You asked, motioning between you and him. He nodded his head affirmingly. You almost would have found him cute if you were still together and you weren’t mad enough to slam the door in his face. You let out a breath as you leaned against the doorway, your arms folded as you stared at him. Bakugou willed himself to only look you in the eyes, knowing that indulging in the want to look over your figure would only make this situation worse. “Katsuki, I don’t have a kid.”

At first, you saw the wheels turning in his head. His face fell at the statement as he stood in the hallway with wide eyes for a moment. “You don’t?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know about you,” You stated, motioning over to him. “especially with all your choices during our relationship,” You saw him close his eyes with a deep sigh as he looked away from you for a moment. “But I don’t have any children that I know of.”

“The kid that was-”

“With me when the building caught on fire? My friends. Not mine. So if we’re done here, I’m hungry.” You turned to go back into your apartment, moving to close the door, however you heard an odd thud when you did. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked down to see Bakugou’s black boots blocking your door from closing. You opened the door more, looking at him heavily annoyed. “Katsuki, please leave.”

“Y/N, please.” He let out lowly as he put a hand to your doorway as if that would have stopped you from slamming the door in his face. He hesitated for a second but you saw his face fall, he looked down to the floor for a moment before looking up at you again. “I know I fucked up, big time. I know it feels as though I’ve wasted your time and you want nothing to do with me.”

“You’re wrong, I don’t feel Katsuki. I know you wasted my time.” You pointed out with furrowed eyebrows. “You cheated on me.”

Bakugou swallowed down hard but nodded his head. That was something that took you a bit by surprise. “I did. I did cheat and I’m sorry. Please, all I ever wanted was for you, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” He motioned to you, your expression dropped as you looked away from him. “to be with me.” You opened your mouth. “Yes, I know what you’re going to say but Eijiro loves you too. You know how much he loves you. Don’t act as if you were oblivious to it.”

You frowned, tightening your grip on your door handle. “I wasn’t oblivious to it, Katsuki, I just didn’t act on it. I respected you enough not to.” You pointed out. You let out a drained sigh as you moved to massage your eyebrows. “I’m tired, Katsuki. Please leave.”

“Y/N wait-”

“Hey, Y/N, sorry to bother you but is it okay if I order another pizza?” You heard Midoriya chirp in behind you as walked into the hallway, being able to be seen by Bakugou. He had his phone in hand as he stared down at the screen. “Cause I really couldn’t resist eating that last sli-” He looked up and his eyes caught on the blond. He perked up. “Oh…” He slowly made his way to stand behind you. “Hey Kacchan.” He greeted.

Bakugou looked at the green haired hero in disbelief. His eyebrows furrowed as his face scrunched up almost in a mix of disbelief and also disgust. “Deku? The fuck you doing here?” He asked motioning to you.

Midoriya motioned back to the kitchen innocently. “Eating pizza.” He said simply. Bakugou gave him a pointed look in annoyance, showing that he wasn’t buying that. Midoriya took a step closer to you, coming up right behind- you making you let out a breath. He moved to encase your hand around the door handle, silently taking control of the situation. You looked down at his large scarred hands that were over yours, so much bigger and experienced than yours and yet held nothing but affirmative action behind them. “What are you doing here, Kacchan?” He asked with a tilt of his head as he furrowed his own eyebrows.

Bakugou let out a breath. He motioned to you. “I’m here to talk to YN.”

Midoriya looked down to you, his expression automatically easing as he looked down at you. “Are you done speaking to him?” You wordlessly nodded your head. He smiled. “Great.” He looked up at Bakugou. “Looks like she’s done talking to you. Goodbye, Kacchan.”

 Once again, Bakugou stopped the door from being closed in his face. Midoriya glanced down at Bakugou’s hand that was on the door and then looked back at the blond. You saw his expression darken at the action, a serious frown on his face. “Now hold on, Deku. I’m not here for you, I’m here for her. Now why don’t you mind your own fucking business and go back to eating your pizza.” Bakugou let out with a scowl.

Midoriya didn’t answer for a moment, just staring at the blond for a moment. He stepped out of the way. “You know what, come in for a second.” He said with a serious look on his face. You looked up at him wondering what the hell he was on about. Midoriya however, didn’t look at you as he allowed Bakugou through.

The blond put on a smug smirk on his face as he stepped past you and Midoriya into your apartment. Midoriya closed the door behind him, keeping his eyes on Bakugou. He was silent as he followed Bakugou. “Now, do you mind, Deku. I’ve gotta talk to-” Suddenly dark green tendril wrapped themselves around Bakugou restraining the blond hero. His eyes widened. “THE FUCK YOU DOING!” Bakugou shouted at Midoriya who had a rather emotionless expression on his face as he stared at the blond. You watched as Blackwhip had itself wrapped around Bakugou. Midoriya walked over to Bakugou, picking him up effortlessly. You watched silently as Midoriya marched over to your balcony, opening the sliding door. Immediately you felt your heart drop out of your chest as you watched with wide eyes. “DEKU! YOU SLIMEY FUCK! LET GO OF ME!” Bakugou shouted as his hands flexed at his sides trying to hurt Midoriya to force him to let go of him.

Midoriya marched onto your balcony. Without looking at Bakugou, he threw the blond off your balcony. You gasped as you slapped a hand over your mouth. Midoriya dusted his hands, blackwhip no longer activated as he marched back inside, closing the sliding door. He looked over to you with a smile. “So I can order another pizza right?” He asked you horrifyingly casually as he walked back into your kitchen.

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you looked back at your balcony. You were hoping maybe by some odd miracle maybe you were just delusional but you knew you weren’t. You glanced over to Midoriya, watching as he picked up his phone and started placing another order for pizza.

Noticing your silence, Midoriya looked up at you. He waved his hand down. “Don’t worry, he’s fine.” He stated casually as he shrugged. “It’s not the first time this has happened. It’s rather therapeutic, heals my inner child.” He told you as he tapped another button.

You motioned to your balcony. “What if you killed him!” You shouted.

“Oh I wish.” Midoriya looked up at you with a nod. “He can save himself. His quirk is good for doing that.” He motioned over to the side. “Actually…” He faced the screen of his phone towards you. He lifted up three fingers. Then two. Then one. Suddenly his phone started ringing, KACCHAN. Midoriya swiped accept as he answered the call. “Yes?”

“DEKU, I’M GOING TO FUCKING-”

Midoriya hung up the phone. He looked back at you with a smile. “You see, he’s fine. So what pizza do you want?” You stood in disbelief as you looked at him. You just blinked at him trying to grapple with what just happened. Midoriya looked at you. “I guess that’s a margarita.”

You sat next to Midoriya as the limo moved forward, today was the first time that the two of you would be seen at a press event together. It was another hero gala with a bunch of champagne, awards and slow dancing to make the elitists happy. It was a big deal coming in here as the fiancé to the Number One hero, having to stay by his side as he talked to big figure names like the Prime Minister, the Minister of Safety, the President of the Hero Commission and other board members. It was a serious occasion.

In light of the occasion you were dressed to match. You wore an emerald green dress that hugged your figure before falling naturally down around you causing a bit of a train around. Your sleeves were puffed and came to your elbows but made the look seem sexy without too much skin and underneath all that, red bottoms that Midoriya had gifted you. You let out a breath as you sat with your hands on your lap.

Midoriya let out a chuckle. You looked over to him and his smug self. You looked him up and down suspiciously which only increased the green haired man’s amusement. “And what are you giggling at?”

Midoriya shrugged, he sat in all black but his tie and waistcoat were the same luscious green as your dress and his hair. He adjusted the chain connecting his collar to his breast pocket. “You’re nervous.”

“Aren’t you?”

 He shook his head denying it with a small frown. You both would be last to enter the hall as it was customary for the Number One. It only built up the suspense you had. “No. Not really.” You looked down at your lap for a moment trying to get a grip of yourself as your stomach twisted into knots. You swallowed down hard as you tried to focus on your lap, you didn’t notice much of what Midoriya was doing. He slowly took your hands, rubbing over your knuckles gently as he put your hands together encased in his. He gave you a smile, a soft and endearing one. “We’re doing this together, okay. That’s why I’m not nervous. I’m not alone and neither are you.” He reminded you. “You and I are going to walk out of this limo, and pose like we are the hottest couple to ever set foot in Japan-” You couldn’t help but smile and scoff at that, making Midoriya’s smile widen. “-Cause we are, and enter that hall like the world is waiting for us- because it is. We are here together.”

You smiled softly at his words. It was an odd thing about Midoriya that also made him an amazing hero. It was how humble and kind he was. When it came to his words, he could say the most inspirational things to lift one up all with a smile on his face. You tightened your hold on him. “Thank you…” You told him honestly. You hesitated but smiled. “I-Izuku.”

You saw his demeanour soften at you calling him by his given name. “Of course...” He leaned closer to you with a slight smirk on his face. “Future Mrs. Midoriya.” You rolled your eyes as you nudged him, only making him laugh. “Talking about that, you did get all the invitations printed and sent digitalised, right?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Yes, they are all just waiting for the end of the evening and then they’ll be in people’s inboxes. I’m also going for my dress appointment next week.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? Can I come?”

“No!” You said laughing.

His face dropped in disappointment as he frowned. “Why?” He whined, his mouth in a slight pout as he looked at you very seriously.

“Why?” You asked confused but still laughing. “Cause you can’t see me in the dress before the wedding day. It’s bad luck.” He grumbled at that, only making you laugh some more.

 The limo finally came to a stop and you finally heard the loud shouting of the media, preparing for you and Midoriya to exit out of the limo. He looked over at you and you at him. He took your hand and raised it to his lips with a smile, kissing your knuckles. “Let's go take over Japan for a night.” He smirked. You couldn’t help but stifle a short giggle. 

The door was opened for Midoriya and the moment he came into view, instantly the cameras started flashing. It was borderline assaulting with how much the flashes were going off and yet he already had his camera smile ready as he stepped outside of the limo. He straightened up his jacket for a moment before offering a hand to you. You took his hand and stepped out onto the red carpet. You smiled up at him, a lovesick smile as he led you down the carpet.

The both of you stopped to take some pictures, Midoriya only smiling at the press for a moment before looking down at you and keeping your eyes on you. You glanced up at him before giggling and moving your head to nudge him slightly. “You shouldn’t be smiling at me.” You told him, looking up at him with a gentle smile on my face.

Midoriya shrugged. “Why not?” He stated, motioning forward for the both of you to head over to the paparazzi to answer one or two questions before moving forward. He looked up at the sea of photographers and instantly they were all shouting his hero name. It was borderline overwhelming. He stepped forward to one of the reporters and there was an instant hush over them to hear the question and his answer.

“ProHero Deku, we’d like to congratulate you on spending the last five consecutive years as the Number One hero of Japan. It’s absolutely outstanding!”

Midoriya pulled on a sharp smirk on his face. “Thank you, it’s still surreal to me. It still feels like that first year, whenever people would call for the Number One hero, I would always be looking for him.” His comment caused you all to laugh as more questions came flying.

“Is Miss L/N your date for tonight?”

Midoriya looked down at you, squeezing your hand as he gave you a look that made you feel as though you were the only thing worth looking at in the world. You didn’t know how he did it. How with just one look that he was doing, he could make you feel so speechless. “Well… as my fiancé, I would be worried if I didn’t bring her as my date.” That one answer brought an uproar of more questions.

“How long have you been together!”

“When did you get engaged?”

“How does it feel like to be in a relationship with the Number One hero, Miss L/N?”

You chuckled as you leaned forward to answer. “It’s an absolute dream. He’s…” You let out a sigh as you looked up at him. His green eyes are always staying on you. “He’s such a pillar of strength to me and I honestly feel so lucky every day. He’s an absolute sweetheart.”

Midoriya raised a hand indicating that the two of you were done answering questions. However, calls for a kiss started to sound, making a flustered look go to your face. Midoriya seemed more amused by it than anything else. He looked down at you with a smirk, making you face him. “What do you say? Should we give the people what they want?”

You shrugged. “Whatever you want…” You stated as he pulled you in against his chest your face close to his as you looked up at him, moving your left hand onto the side of his face, making sure the engagement ring was in sight. “Izuku.” You whispered. “Mr. Number One Hero.” You smirked, being unable to help yourself.

Unprecedentedly he let out a low groan as he pulled you in for a kiss. In that moment everything felt like it stopped as you felt your heart stop too. It was warm and soft and yet eager as he kissed you. It was also over all too soon for your liking and immediately you hid your face from view in embarrassment for a moment as you heard in chuckle. However, you felt underneath your right hand, his heart was thumping out of his chest, racing almost as if it would burst out.

With a wave from the both of you, you joined hands as you made your way towards a waiting hallway before entering the hall. The background of people buzzed around you, making sure that everything was perfect. They adjusted Midoriya’s white signature cape on his shoulders, as well as your dress at the bottom to make sure that there was the perfect entrance for the both of you. You moved to hold onto his arm rather than his hand.

“You’re gonna make us cause scandals, Izuku.” You whispered up to him.

He kept facing forward, a perfect profile as he smirked, pushing a dimple to his freckled cheek. He chuckled, putting a hand over your own, giving it a squeeze. “Good.”

“Announcing his excellency, the Number One ProHero of Japan, ranked Number Three in Asia, ProHero: Deku, along with his fiancé, Miss L/N.”

At that the doors opened revealing the decorated hall to the both of you. Midoriya led the both of you forward, his cape flowing behind him as he walked with you next to him. He had a resting smirk on his face as he walked forward. It was like he knew the presence he carried, the power he had as he walked forward. His eyes seemed to almost hide everything and yet show what you could only assume was all to you. Dangerous poisonous green eyes that would swallow anyone up with a single glance. You tightened your hold on him as you stayed at his side, smiling at other ProHeroes that were nearby.

Midoriya led the both of you around, greeting a various number of highly important people, some you had only been able to see on TV alone. You smiled and acted nice and pretty. You were much more than a pretty face and luckily there was a lot of attention on this new pairing that was you and Midoriya, so you didn’t have to act like just Arm Candy. However, even as you went around the hall you could feel a particular set of crimson eyes on you, it was like they were drilling a hole into you.

You only looked at him when it was time to get seated in order for the event to start. That’s when you saw the furious gaze of Bakugou Katsuki on both you and your fiancé. Bakugou sat in his seat, a silent rage about him as he watched the both of you make your way forward. His gaze of almost disgust and yet also disappointment felt like a weight on your throat. Feeling almost sick at the pressure his gaze had on you, you flicked your gaze to Kirishima. Kirishima looked between you and Midoriya almost as if he could hardly believe it- and yet the moment his eyes met yours, he looked down away from you.

It was only then when he left your gaze did you snap yourself back to reality. You raised your head as you kept to Midoriya’s side. You finally reached the table. He pulled out your seat first, motioning for you to sit down. You smiled as you sat down, him pushing in your chair and then him sitting down himself. There was no time to communicate with the people at your table as immediately the event began.

The event started with acknowledging some retired heroes now turned alumni, and all that they had done for the hero community. Then there were some long service awards going in intervals of five years, which lasted a bit longer than you thought it would. During the whole time you tried to focus on the event and Midoriya sitting next to you as well as Mina who sat next to you. However, it was hard when you felt Bakugou’s eyes on you most of the time. You tried to ignore him as best as you could.

Finally, it was almost time for the break with only one more award to be handed out before the rest of the evening would be mingling, some dancing and dinner.

“We’ve come to that part of the night where we have to celebrate our top hero of the country,” Hawks spoke from the top of the stage, being MC for the night just like  he was for most hero events. You turned to look at Midoriya who tried his best not to get flustered at it all, still an element of humbleness to him. “We’d like to acknowledge and award our Number One Hero, ProHero: Deku, the hero of peace and justice for all he has accomplished for not only the five consistent years of being Number one, but for all the efforts he has accomplished for the hero community. From the privacy of Hero only hospitals, greater access to the legislative system in terms of cases and more supportive laws for self defence and quirk usage, Deku has done much for the hero community and this nation. And for that I’d like to call the Number One to the stage.” He stepped to the side clapping his hands as an assistant brought a clear crystal award onto stage for Midoriya.

You clapped along with the rest of the hall. Midoriya stood up, putting a hand up to acknowledge everyone around him. He turned to you before leaving, making sure to give you a peck to your lips. You reminded yourself to keep your expression up to not look as shocked as you were as you watched him leave and go up onto stage. Midoriya climbed up the stairs up to the stage, giving Hawks a hug making the blond’s eyes widen for a moment before letting out a laugh.

Midoriya accepted the award before being ushered to stand at the mic (which was luckily adjusted to his height.) He looked around at the hall for a moment, letting out a breath. “Everything I’ve ever done was to achieve my dreams to become a hero and I am unbelievably lucky to have been able to achieve that. Now, because I know that we,” He motioned at the hall, “all know that I could stand up here and talk us into the next era, I’m gonna try and keep things short. I have to thank first and foremost, my mentor, All Might.” Midoriya paused for a moment, swallowing hard at the mention of the older hero that had passed just two years ago. He lowered his head for a moment before forcing a smile on his face. “I also need to thank all my friends, teachers, fellow heroes, every single worker at Deku Agency and most certainly…” His eyes moved to you despite the bright lights on him. It was almost as if he could find you even in the darkness of the crowd. You smiled at him. “My fiancé, Y/N.” His freckled cheeks pushed up to a beautiful smile. “I don’t think these past few years would have been as vivid and beautiful without you in them and for that, I am forever grateful for you. Thank you.” He bowed his head to everyone, moving back with a wave as he was escorted to the wings away from the spotlight.

“For the time we’ve all been waiting for… Dinner.” Hawks spoke with a huge grin.

The lights of the hall increased some more allowing you to all see much easily. You let out a breath as you turned to straighten yourself out and turn to the rest of the table. You noticed very quickly that a lot of them were staring at you. You looked around at everyone for a moment before picking up your champagne glass.

“THAT RING!” Mina took your glass out of your hands and took your left hand into her own. She inspected the green sapphire engagement surrounded by diamonds. Her eyes widened as she looked down at it with awe. “It’s so pretty! Where did he get it?”

You chuckled as you shrugged. “I actually don’t know, I never thought to ask.”

“How come?” You heard the gruff voice of your ex-boyfriend disturb your conversation. He looked at you with a horrible scrutinising gaze.

You looked over at Bakugou but to his surprise you had forced a smile to your face. “I got swept up in the proposal, I didn’t really didn’t think about it. It was just…” You sighed as you turned to face Mina with a sweet smile. “He had decorated the entire penthouse with flowers and balloons, had all the lights off and had lanterns and fairy lights everywhere-”

“WAIT!” Denki shot out of his chair to move to crouch near you and Mina to hear all the details. “I have to know. You kept this from me and now I expect to know every detail.” He stated, glaring up at you with a pointed look.

You chuckled. “We didn’t want to be in the spotlight and it kinda just-”

“Took us by surprise.” You turned to look up at Midoriya who approached the table once again.

Your smile broadened. “Congratulations, Izuku. You deserve it.” You reached over and took a hold of his hand.

Midoriya hummed with a smirk on his face. He leaned down. “Thank you, my love.” He hummed out, moving his hand to your neck. He tilted your head up to meet his, keeping a possessive hold on your neck. You felt time freeze for a moment as you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach, knotting up and aching for a second. You knew the feeling all too well, but yet you hadn’t felt it in a long time.

You chuckled into the kiss. “For a hero, you know little self-control.” You spoke against his lips.

He smirked, moving back with a shrug, sitting down in his seat. “You can’t blame me, when it comes to you.” He faced back to everybody else, keeping a hand on your thigh. He lifted up his glass of champagne to his lips, taking a much needed sip before his eyes landed on Bakugou. He smiled. “Kacchan, I actually need you to come over to my place soon, I’ve gotta ask you something.”

Bakugou was in no mood to talk to Midoriya nor interact with the green haired hero. Hell, his whole event was ruined by this farce that was happening in front of him. You? In love with Midoriya? You had got to be shitting him. After all that the two of you had been through together, how much you knew about Midoriya and him, and yet here you were sitting next to Midoriya with an engagement ring on his finger. It made the blond feel so angry that he felt borderline sick. Kirishima glanced at the blond, he put a hand on Bakugou’s thigh trying to calm him down.

Bakugou took a sip of his own champagne, putting down the glass aggressively. “Why don’t you just ask it right fucking now?” He shrugged in his black suit. He leaned back. “Since you seem so filled with surprises today, Deku.”

“Katsuki.” Kirishima reminded him quietly to behave.

Midoriya seemed to hesitate. “Are you sure? It’s a pretty private thing Kacchan. I don’t want to put you on the spot-”

“Just spit it out you damn fucking-”

“Would you be my best man?”

The whole table went silent at the question. You tried to keep a calm face as you internally were smacking Midoriya on the back side of the head for such a question. You weren’t sure what he was thinking of, doing this. Denki’s mouth was in a straight line as he too didn’t pull a joke, finding the tension too heavy. Everyone looked at Bakugou. Even Shoto, although seemingly very quiet and sticking to spectating, watching expectantly.

The blond didn’t seem to move for the second, processing Midoriya’s question. He tilted his head, his hands balling up the table cloth and smoke coming out of his palms. “What?”

Midoriya smiled gently. “Will you be my best man?” He looked down for a moment, almost bashful but he then looked at Bakugou as if he was being genuine. “I’ve known you all my life, Kacchan. You’re like a brother that I greatly dislike but a brother none the less. You have done so much for me. You’ve followed me to UA, we’ve worked countless times together, hell, you are even the reason why I can marry the love of my life.” Midoriya glanced at you. You knew what he was doing. It was buried deep in those poisonous green of his eyes. He was riling up Bakugou and it was damn working, almost too well. If Bakugou could look more murderous, he could. “I feel like it is only right as my childhood friend, that I ask you if you want to be my best man at my wedding to Y/N.”

At first Bakugou was silent as he dropped his head trying to will himself not to cross the table and murder Midoriya right before his very eyes. He dragged a hand down his face before you started hearing soft chuckles. You raised an eyebrow as Bakugou slowly started to laugh. Soon the blond was down right hysterical as he put a hand to his head as he laughed. You glanced at Midoriya, wondering if this was him officially breaking the blond, however he didn’t look away, he stayed looking at Bakugou.

Bakugou let out a sigh as he wiped tears from his eyes. He looked over at Midoriya nodding his head. He motioned to the green haired man in front of him. “Fuck you.” Without a second thought, Bakugou stood up from his chair and left the table. Bakugou didn’t look at you as he turned his back on all of you and walked away to God knows where.

Immediately Kirishima stood up to go and follow Bakugou. “Katsuki!” He turned back to the whole lot of you. He bowed his head to Midoriya. “I’m sorry about him, Midoriya and-” It was almost as if your name got caught in his throat. “And Y/N.” He quickly apologised as he went racing off to go follow Bakugou. Now that you were watching it away from being obligated to follow Bakugou’s side, you realised just how tiring it was sometimes.

“Midoriya.” Midoriya turned to his right to look at Todoroki who was looking at him as stoic as ever. He had his silky mismatched hair cascading down his shoulders, but a few strands were tied up behind him. He tilted his head to the side. “May I be your best man?” He asked shamelessly, making Sero snort in amusement.

Midoriya nodded his head with a genuine smile on his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Don’t worry, Shoto, I knew he was going to say no. I was going to ask you but thank you. I would love it if you were my best man.” He chuckled in amusement as he made sure that Todoroki knew that he had the position. Todoroki nodded his head, glad that he had gotten himself in as Midoriya’s best man.

“Obviously, I’m going to be the flower girl.” Denki stated as he motioned to himself with pride. You rolled your eyes but chuckled.

“How dare you hide this from your mother!”

“OW! OKAASAN!”

You watched in pure amusement as the tall, large Number One hero, Midoriya Izuku, was being attacked by a white slipper by a woman half his size. Midoriya Inko, who you found out would be your future mother-in-law. She had a furious expression on her face as she swatted her son with her slipper, pulling on his ear so that he couldn’t escape her fury. Midoriya was forced to bend in an awkward position in order to accompany how short she was.

“You didn’t think to tell me that you were getting married!” She chastised as she slapped her slipper against his shoulder. The short round woman frowned up at her son, clearly offended at being left out of the loop.

A beautiful golden retriever scampered into the hallway where you all were. She barked up in happiness at seeing Midoriya however she went over to you, sniffing at your body. You smiled as you crouched down, putting a hand to her head as you pat her behind the ears. She sat down obediently with her mouth open as she panted. You checked her nametag. “Mighty Molly”, you read. She was a beautiful dog and really well trained.

Midoriya let out a small yelp. He furrowed his eyebrows as he sent his mother a glare. “I already told you, Ma. It’s more like an arrangement than me withholding information from you- Will you stop!” He let out annoyed at the constant slipper attacking his shoulder. You knew that if Midoriya really wanted to, he could have easily stopped Inko. He could have easily disarmed the very threatening woman and won the little battle between them, but you knew he wouldn’t do that. He seemed too much of a Mama’s boy to do so.

She let out a huff as she folded her arms and put her slipper back down on the ground. “Arranged or not, this is the person who will take your name and become part of the family.” She reminded him with a pointed look. She slipped her sock covered foot into the slipper and turned to you. She smiled up at you as if she had not just assaulted her son in front of you. “Welcome my dear, I hope you like pork Katsudon!” She let out chirply as she motioned for you to follow her to sit down at the table.

You chuckled and followed her, paying no mind to her grumbling son behind the two of you in the hallway of her apartment. “Thank you and I do.” You told her as she motioned for you to sit. You sat down at the table, happily with a smile for dinner that she had prepared for the two of you. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Midoriya.”

“Thank you. Izuku grew up here.” She informed you. “And please, don't go by Mrs. Just call me Mama Midoriya if you want, it's what most of Izuku’s friends call me. Or Inko, that’s just fine too, dear.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. You had heard that Midoriya didn’t grow up as privileged as his fellow former classmates and it made a lot of sense to you. As much as he knew he had money now, he wasn’t as flashy with it as your ex was or some of his classmates. She quickly snapped her fingers at her son. “Izuku, come sit down.” She ordered. Midoriya pulled out the chair opposite where you sat but he pulled out a chair for his mother as well. He moved without being asked to grab two bowls of katsudon, laying them down in front of you and one for his mother. Inko facial expression softened and so he sat down without complaint. She turned to you. “So… I heard that the two of you met through Katsuki.” She started.

You nodded your head. “Yes, in an essence.” You watched Mighty Molly position herself beside Inko, lying down on the ground.

Midoriya scoffed as he placed his own bowl at his place and sat down. “Ma, you don’t have to act oblivious.” He points out, putting his hands together. You all said thank you for the food and you could start eating. Midoriya picked up his chopsticks and looked at you. “She knows that you and Kacchan were together.”

You looked over to Inko. She gave you a tense smile making you giggle. She sighed as her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry, my dear but everybody knows.” She told you, nodding her head. “However, when I was talking to Mitsuki,” You paused at the mention of Bakugou’s mother. “She always talked about how happy you made Katsuki and how much he tried to make you happy. Honestly, she had been pressuring him to propose right before you two-” She paused as she noticed your slight frown. You swallowed hard hearing that.

It was hard not to think about. It was hard not to think about having to apologise to his parents as to why you had broken up with their son and having to omit the truth. It was hard hearing all about how much of an amazing couple the two of you were only for it to have ended in shambles, ended with the two of you away and split up from one another. It was hard learning that Mitsuki was pressuring him to propose to you when you had called it off.

It wasn’t your fault.

Inko softened, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to…”

You shook your head forcing a smile to your face. “No, it’s okay.” You let out a bit of a forced laugh. “Mitsuki reminds me a whole lot of her son. The two are more often than not, very much at odds, despite being so similar.” You pointed out.

Midoriya nodded his head in agreement, mouth full of delicious Katsudon as he did so. Inko agreed with a giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know how Masaru manages both of them.” She stated amusedly. You agreed as well, tasting her food. You perked up at the taste of the meal. You looked up at Midoriya who was basically devouring the bowl in front of him. You smiled at the sight. You understood why he loved it so much if this was how his mother cooked it for him. Inko looked between you and her son. She smiled dearly. “I hope you know that my son…” She started softly as she looked down at her own meal for a moment before looking at you. “He’s a good man.” She nodded her head with a smile. “I know he’ll treat you well. He does get really busy sometimes and I often get worried for him, but he does everything wholeheartedly. I don’t know what made you say yes to him,” Midoriya gave his mother an offended look that she ignored. “but I am glad to see that he has someone, even if the two of you have nothing romantic going on. I just pray that you’ll be good to each other. I was worried he would die a rake.”

Midoriya paused for a moment, finally stopping his inhalation of food. “Excuse me, ma, but I’d like to remind you that I am ranked the top eligible bachelor in Japan.” He reminded her. “Well… I was ranked before the whole fiancé thing.”

She turned her head to him sharply with a pointed look on her face. “Most eligible bachelor and yet you could only have a long-term relationship by having it arranged.” She threw back at him.

You snorted as you covered your mouth at what she had said to her son. Midoriya opened his mouth but quickly closes his mouth and his eyes at the same time, holding his tongue. No doubt he was gonna say something that would probably get him kicked out of the apartment. You shook your head, not surprised one bit.

You let out a sigh and looked over to Inko. You gave her a genuine smile as you sat up straight. “Mama Midoriya,” You started as you took her attention towards you. “I won’t lie and say that the reasons your son and I decided to get together weren’t selfish in some sort of way, as any contract is. It was to get something out of it… but, I can promise you know that when I signed it, I took my new role as your son’s future wife very seriously.” You looked at her straight-faced, as transparent as you could be. Inko smiled in relief and continued to listen. “I don’t believe in forever. Not anymore. However, I do believe in commitment and communication. I promise to you that I’ll do my best to be a good wife to your son and care for him in a way that would never have you feel as though he isn’t being taken care of in whatever capacity he allows of me. You’re a good mother and you raised a good son. I am honoured to be welcomed into the household that you built, ma’am.”

Inko was looking at you with a wobbly smile as big fat Midoriya tears lined her eyes. She looked to her son with the same brink of emotions as she did to you. Midoriya let out a soft chuckle. “Are you okay, ma?” She nodded with some crippled whimpers, covering her face, but you already saw the rivers start to flow from her eyes. Midoriya put down his chopsticks and put a hand to her back. “Ma, don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.” He told her. “We don’t need Mrs. Fujita complaining about flooding again.”  

“B-b-but Izuku…” She let out with a soft whine as she sniffled.

Midoriya eased, just before he could get up he saw you take out a tissue from your bag and get up yourself. You crouched near Inko, handing her a tissue with a smile on your face. He paused for a second before easing at the sight. Although your action had good intentions, Inko only started crying harder which you found adorable. She shared a lot of similarities with her son now that you thought about it.

After dinner (and seconds from your fiancé), you had learnt a lot from Inko. For starters she had given you the recipe to her katsudon which was a must have apparently. Then you also found out the story behind the golden retriever. Mighty Molly was a service dog, specifically a mobility assistance dog for All Might. So far she did a lot around the apartment even though being off duty since All Might died. The Midoriyas had decided to keep her and just adopt her as a regular dog, even though her services were not needed anymore- and ever since then she had been living with Inko.

Inko was also not very shy of trying to embarrass her son at every waking moment. She had a photo album waiting to show you all the naked baby photos of Midoriya and him in his All Might onesie. Midoriya refused to be part of such antics and decided to wash dishes and save himself the shame. She told you all about how much of a troublesome teen he was when he entered UA and all the apparent lovers he had (which Midoriya was shocked to know of some he was sure he had hidden from her).

The two of you also talked about the wedding preparations. You talked about the flowers, the venue, the food and the cake tasting that the two of you still had to go do. You also told her a bit about your dress (which you tried to keep as minimalistic as possible due to Midoriya’s big ears). Midoriya and you had already agreed about a lot of the things on the wedding and one of the things Midoriya didn’t mind was the vision you had. He wanted to make the day as memorable and happy for you as possible, so he didn’t mind most things. The only real hard definite want that he had was that he wanted to wear a white suit. Which you thought was perfect.

The absolute best thing about Inko was how easily she adapted to the image you were thinking about and quickly she pitched in ideas you hadn’t even thought of. To say that you should have just hired her as your wedding planner would be an understatement, but she was more than happy to be on board and make sure that everything would run smoothly on the day of your wedding.

“Okay Izuku, you make sure you don’t eat all of this okay. Y/N deserves to eat my cooking too, so no hogging.” She reminded him as she handed him a picnic bag filled with containers of food.

Midoriya chuckled and nodded his head. “Yes, Ma.”

She let out a nod with a hum before turning to you. She gave you a gentle hug which you happily reciprocated. “You take well now dear. I’ll see you soon. You make sure if he does anything stupid, you just use your slipper on him. It works like a charm.”

You chuckled. “Of course, thank you again Mama Midoriya.” You stated.

Midoriya took your hand and motioned a wave to her. “Bye ma! Bye Molly!”

“Bye Izuku!” She waved, Molly giving him a bark from inside.

You followed Midoriya towards the staircase, heading down them back towards the ground. You looked up at him with a gentle smile, sticking close to him as the chilly hair nipped at your skin. “Your mother is nice.” You told him honestly.

He looked at you for a moment. He grinned. “I’m glad you think so. She really seems to like you.” He informed you. “Although if you hear your name circling around some old ladies Facebook group, don’t worry. She’s probably just bragging about how great her future in-law is.” He shrugged as he said it nonchalantly, making you laugh.

“I’m glad I got mama’s approval then. I don’t need to be swarmed by old ladies. I already have the paparazzi to deal with.” You joked.

He let out a sigh. “They’re all vultures, honestly.” He stated truthfully with a shake of his head.

The two of you finally made it to the bottom. It was dark at the bottom but it wasn’t a long trek towards the car. You couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment, bundle up and snuggle on the couch with Midoriya’s rabbit, Angelica Nina. She was a really good cuddle buddy now that you had effectively integrated yourself into her life.

“Y/N…” You turned to look at Midoriya. He didn’t have a particular emotion on his face. “I know I work a lot and I’m probably still going to be busy until the wedding but please tell me if you ever feel like I’m disappearing.” He didn’t look at you but he seemed to have a worried expression on his face. “I don’t want to make you feel as though I don’t have time for you or I’m not taking you seriously. Please just snap me out of it and I’ll-”

“Izuku, you’re the Number One hero.” You let out interrupting him. “I know how serious you take your job and just how much you sacrifice to keep it. Believe me, if there’s anyone who understands how draining and how much attention a hero’s work needs from you, it's me. So please, don’t ever feel bad about having to focus on it sometimes.” You told him honestly, knowing how much heroes needed partners who understood how demanding the job was and could be. You hesitated for a moment. “But…” You took a chance and tightened your hold around his warm hand. “Thank you.” You spoke softly as you kept your head facing forward, ignoring the heat to your face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He glanced down at you. He smiled, encasing your hand in his own.

-Glitch1d

Taglist: @cillshot@stxrrielle@doomedengineer@chims-kookies@fabii275 @tiniewife

#mha x y/n #bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader angst #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha #bakugou x kirishima #deku x reader #mha deku #tw: attempted murder #izuku rizzdoriya

[rizsu]

you're married to geto suguru, yet you plan to kill him. interesting, right? truth be told; you despise suguru. you loathe his touch, hate his voice, detest his entire person as a whole. you never loved him — it was simply just toleration.

suguru... he's a decent husband, at most. he gives you money — which is most important — he buys you gifts, he's home, at least. suguru gives you everything but himself. you cried for his touch, he never gave it. you begged for his presence, he said he had pressing business to attend to. he's the best but worst fucking husband ever.

it's not only his negligence, it's him slowly replacing you with someone else. slowly, but surely, you've noticed that another person has been consuming your presence, wringing you dry of the little authority you had within the geto residence. at first, it bothered you to the core. every time you spoke to suguru about these concerns, your voice echoed through the walls like a broken record. in one ear and out the other; heard but not listened.

your tears dropped, yet to him it did nothing but cause a wet mess. he'd always sigh, feeling guilty to leave you spiraling in your emotions. "don't cry, love," he'd say, whispering sweet nothings in your head. he'd bring you to his chest, completely swallowing you in his hold. his fingers would caress your body, reminding you that you're a geto, you're apart of him now. you're not alone. only the foolish marionette will melt in its master's dull words. once the marionette was you, twice is what it won't be.

the honeymoon phase wilted, what's left is nothing short of two adults tied together by a piece of paper. a liar is what you refuse to be. if anyone may ask, you will not lie. it's true, your heart feels heavy. you miss the suguru you met as naive teenagers, you miss the suguru who loved you from the moon and back. unfortunately, what comes must go. you've grown tired of being the sole one who reminds him about anniversaries and birthdays.

his effort to maintain the marriage no longer exists. his attraction to the mistress heightens every week. it hurts, yes, but you're numb to it. hell be damned you've become the forgotten wife but never will you ever be the wife who allows her cheating husband to be.

no, never. they won't get a laugh out of you — they won't get the last say. the blame glazes over both, yet it soaks suguru more. as a married man, he should've known better than to entertain a mere lady's lust to him. now comes his price to pay, and soon she will pay hers. a circus that walks together, dies together.

it's never easy planning a murder. you don't want to get caught — prison isn't somewhere you'd want to be. the easiest and most effiecent way to ensure suguru's death will be poisoning. not just any poisoning, however. a poison that kills naturally; something that'll make his death appear natural.

suguru's always been a healthy man, using an excuse such as "he fell ill," won't work. he doesn't have much enemies. his peers loved him. a death by food poisoning seems much more acceptable. food poisoning occurs in many ways: for example, if the food has been left out for too long, boom, food poisoning. it's not unusual for one to die by it, so the plan sets sail.

──

one: errands.

as usual, your role of playing the forgotten wife will remain the same. running your ‘errands’ will be as easy as flipping a page, suguru pays you no attention. today it'll be the same. the only obstacle would be to find the energy to arise off of the bed.

the subtle sunlight grants the room a warming aura, giving the perfect contrast together with the air conditioner. like always, suguru's gone. the only trace of him being here would be your memory of him sneaking in last night. at least he has enough manners to not wake you.

same old, same old. you'll only waste your energy worrying about him, let's just finish the morning routine.

"morning," out of habit, you greet the empty house. coming out of slumber to be greeted by an empty home used to do numbers to you. now, it doesn't. its merely a house cosplaying as a home.

the oh-so fluttering dreams of a married life with suguru have dusted away. if only you can go back in time and stop your lovesick self. whatever, no use dwelling on it now. there's a plan to layout.

a single toasted slice of bread, your bottle of water, a handbag, and the car keys are all you took out the door with you. the house keys are attached together with the car keys so it's not a worry. not like you'll be back before suguru anyway.

the drive feels silent. although the radio's on, it feels empty. maybe it's the effects of your clouded mind, or maybe it's you attempting to clear your mind. either way, it's nothing but trivial matters. at this very moment you most likely have to stitch up a lie believable enough to obtain the poison.

chilly, is what you think. you're at the destination; it's an apartment complex that was in the makings but was abandoned. it's dirty, puddles of water decorate the floor, and its filled with dealers and criminals alike. can't blame them, it's the perfect place for a hideout. coming here alone as a woman is something you'd never do... without a weapon that is. you don't own a gun, but you do own a pocket knife.

"psst," someone calls out. they must be calling another person. let's just continue walking.

"you, woman," they call again. surely it's not you. let's just speed up the pace.

"oi, rude bitch 'm talking to you," they specify and surely enough they aren't calling you a bitch, right?

"you're not talking to me with that attitude," you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the man — or lady, you don't know. their face is covered and their clothes are baggy.

the stranger walks you to, and you walk backwards. okay, it's kinda getting creepy.

"any — any reason why you're coming to me?" you questioned, trying to mask your obvious worries.

"aren't you the one who's here for the poison, missy?" they stop walking, reaching into their pockets before bringing a small, white tube in view.

oops, you're caught off guard. if this is who you agreed to meet with you only hope they don't run with the poison.

"oh — yes, that's me! how'd you know?"

"have my ways. ain't a dealer if i don't know my clients — even if they're a one timer," they speak, handing you the tube. "name's siren. just an alias, don't question it."

you carefully take the tube, in return you quickly place the envelope in their hand. ready to get out of there, you ramble out your words, "okay, thank you! the money is in there, bye! see you never!"

siren watches your frame scatter away from them, the sounds of your low heels clicking the floor making them chuckle. crazy woman, they think, returning their focus back on the money.

you're back in the car safe and sound. you know what, it's time to go back. you lock your doors, hide the tube in your handbag, and turn up the radio. now that the errand's over, you probably won't go outside for two days.

ah, home. nothing beats being home. except suguru's car is parked so that means he's here. the home is now back to the house. inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself to have any interaction with him. you have your doubts but something inside you screams that he's going to talk.

"where have you been?"

well, that was quick. you only managed to take your heels off. talk about an impatient man.

"out for a breather, why?" you return the question, walking into the living room without glancing at him.

"all right," he says, not continuing the conversation.

ladies and gentlemen, never get married. suguru no longer cares to hold conversations. you can tell the ugliest lies to him and he wouldn't care. as long as you're back, it's okay. you're used to it, yet a silent voice in you wished that he would've asked more questions.

you continue on without glancing at him, making your way to the shared bedroom. it's a little after noon, you'll take this time to relax.

──

two: weird individual(s).

it's hot — you feel hot. a burning sensation engulfs your head. this wasn't supposed to happen. you were making dinner, casually sipping on your glass of wine as you go along. suguru, for some reason, finally showed himself for the day. without a word, he seated himself near the counter, pouring himself a glass of wine and keeping his eyes on you.

to say you're not uncomfortable would be a severe understatement. his eyes create holes in your back — it's annoying. say something if you want to, asshole, you complained in your mind but truly, you yourself weren't going to say anything.

and so, you carried on. dinner being cooked and suguru being weird. it got even more weird when he stood up. you're at the sink, cleaning as you go along. suguru's finished with his glass, so it's not out of the ordinary for him to stand behind you, trapping you with both arms as he washes his glass, right? yeah, it's pretty weird.

"uh, do you mind?" you softly spoke, which was also weird. why is everything just weird tonight?

suguru stays in that position, humming to a tune you're not familiar with.

"is it wrong to be near my wife?"

oh, now i'm his wife.

"not at all, suguru. it's just that i'm busy at the moment," you told half the truth. you are busy, but you don't want him near you.

"is that so?" he spoke, removing one hand only to place it on your hip. slowly, he begins to squeeze the flesh, lowering his head into the junction of your neck and shoulder. his voice, though muffled, can be heard with a low, seductive tone, "missed you all day, why not busy yourself with me?"

bullshit, but it's not bad. you can do with some physical destressing.

"not in the kitchen."

"sure."

and that's how you found yourself tangled on top of him on the sofa. sloppily making out with him, hands found freedom in his hair, and his hands found home on your hips. it's a hot mess, and you're kind of liking it. suguru may be a bitch, but he sure knows your body. it's been five years, after all.

"wait—" you broke the kiss, placing your hands on his chest. "let's st—stop," you spoke, stuttering as suguru leans his head to bite your neck.

"why?" he asks, curious at your sudden choice. you never stopped him before.

"i.. don't feel good, sorry suguru," you lied again. suguru isn't and is the problem. you'd love to go deeper with him but the realization that he's touched another woman like this disgusts you. it's no wonder you plan on killing him.

suguru doesn't speak. instead, he moves you off of him. "it's okay," he says, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek. it doesn't take long for him to leave you alone again. now you're feeling a pinch of guilt. i'm not wrong, right? he's the one who abandoned me.

you sigh, lifting yourself off the sofa. there's a dinner to indulge in and trust, you will enjoy it. you made it with your blood, sweat, tears, and some wine.

──

three: poison attempt day.

surprisingly, you felt energized today. as if someone charged six-hundred volts of energy to a dead battery. today's the day, hopefully. the man who cosplays himself as a husband is absent per usual. it's up to you to cook lunch.

you're already preparing; there's no time to waste. every minute needs your utmost attention — the kind of attention a predator gives its prey before hunting them. the one downside to this would be the poison's taste. it's not an overwhelming one, but it's there. anything with a strong scent comes with a strong taste, they say. you haven't put it to the test — no way, you're not suicidal — but the safer side's always better.

ginger, you think, ginger and onions overpower everything. bingo. a minute¹ change to the recipe's ingredients but it's nothing to fret over. trivial matters again. within an hour, lunch was finished with a cherry on top — except the cherry holds the uneven balance between suguru's life and death.

you removed your apron, flicked off the water from your hands after you washed it, and then threw yourself face-first onto the longer sofa. exhaustion massages your body, encouraging you to fall into its depths. its opponent, emotional drain, creeps up. your body's the platform, and they're the contestants. a battle of who will dominate you begins; a useless battle for the woman whose tears dried up long ago.

a heavy sigh escapes, i'm tired, you think. sliding your hands under your head, you use it to cushion the side of your face. it's quiet like always but you're left to your thoughts this time. it may just crown itself for being the first time you gave yourself leeway to part and understand your tangled emotions. it's like a ball of tangled wires: scattered yet neat. roads to untangle it are visible, yet its many wires frighten the person.

what you feel is nothing short of some doll who replaces her face to satisfy the owner. the marionette you once were and refuse to be again. she who shows you, you who show yourself, who is the real you? perhaps, it's all. everything is you, everything has become you. many versions of yourself dance around the stage, all moving towards to same goal: killing the one who drained them.

the clock ticks, each sounded second rips your skin apart. it's torturous, but soon it'll all be over. i think i need a nap, your last voice echoes away in your mind as you succumb to exhaustion. who knew planning a murder against your once beloved could've been this draining.

─

suguru lazily enters, slackening his tie. his eyes focus on the lunch decorating the dining table. soon, his eyes travel to your resting figure. after all, you're in his usual position. she's sleeping, he thinks of the obvious, deciding to keep a low profile as to not wake you.

however, being a man means that you're prone to making mistakes... especially loud ones. from the cup connecting with the floor to the fork clanging as it fell, it's been a rather loud attempt at serving himself some lunch.

he's sure that you're awake. well, not entirely awake, but conscious enough to hear everything around you. the blame is his to own, again.

"it's untouched..." suguru whispers, confused at the perfectly untouched food that lies before his eyes. maybe you got a change of eating routine.

lies, of course. you'd be nothing but a joker if you were to consume the same food you poisoned. suguru doesn't know this, however. he's picked his path and the path hides its true face; wicked and heartless, like a haunted house pretending to be a normal house to lure in its victims.

it's been a few minutes later and you're now fully awake. you haven't moved an inch to expose yourself — just mindlessly gazing into the void of your shared house. you're aware that he's home, aware that he's found himself lunch, and aware that the clock's ticking sound has gotten louder. almost as if it knows its counting down someone's death day.

"is he eating?" you whispered, peeking from the sofa's backrest. "oh, he is."

suguru's at the dining table, scrolling on his phone as he shoves a vegetable in his mouth. his actions fill you with guilt, excitement, and fear. for a reason only god knows, you don't want him eating anymore. may it be due to loving him half of your life, or may it be due to the guilt of killing someone who mattered to others. whatever, who cares. no one — no one will, you chant in your mind, attempting to convince yourself.

"wait, suguru—" you acted out of your own will, cutting your speech short when you regained yourself. what the fuck? you're leaning over the sofa's backrest, reaching an arm out to suguru. eyes wide open, you try to piece together a reasonable follow-up response.

"hm? something wrong?" suguru asks, mouth filled with food. he places his phone face down and tilts his head. he looks innocent, as if he's not a cheating, neglecting bastard of a husband. well, that's the way life goes. the evil masks themselves as the innocent, basking in those who are more innocent than themselves, slowly consuming their energy for their own. selfish, selfish people.

"ah," you begin, awkwardly lowering your hand. "is the food okay? i tried a new recipe."

i don't want to kill him.

"yeah, it's good," he responds, taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

he's wronged me.

you walk towards the dining table, pulling out a chair to seat yourself in front of him. "i see... how was your morning?" you questioned, swallowing hard. your legs are shaking, you don't know why. your heart races, you can't answer why.

"boring, same old stuff. i met with my client though, she's fun to be around," suguru tells, poking the food with his fork to get a good bite.

i fucking hate him.

you don't speak after that. instead, you bite at the skin of your lower lip. your emotions try to join together, yet they won't. it's like a lava lamp, they'll never truly connect. every time you're away from suguru, your hatred tames. every time he's back, it heightens. it doesn't take much more than his voice to fuel your restless anger. you observe him, watching the way his throat bobs each swallow. something feels off.

the two of you continue in silence, simply observing each other. suguru takes it upon himself to do the dishes, you remain put in the chair. his phone remained with you, face down yet dings with notifications. you've always wondered what it's like to have him text you every day. once it was a memory of the teenage years... now it's a sour dream.

──

four: night, night.

it's the same night, you're in bed with suguru. both of you are under the same covers, yet you're both at the extreme ends of the bed. a large, empty space separates you two. neither are asleep nor do they wish to be awake. a heavy feeling rains over their shared room. the tension's strong enough to break the strongest thread.

suguru's the first to turn, rolling himself over to you. he extends an arm to secure over your waist; this brings you skin-to-skin with his torso and your back. his head lowers to yours, resting his chin on your head. you give no reaction except stiffing your body. what's he up to?

his extended arm caresses you lightly, mimicking patterns on your delicate skin. he takes a deep breath before exhaling.

"my love, i know you're planning to kill me," he softly speaks, waiting for you to respond.

your heart drops. what? he knows? it's probably a bluff. you opt for remaining the way you currently are. if you continue pretending, he'll most likely continue speaking the truth.

"i've been watching you. i don't blame you, dear. i've neglected you for quite some time. i've cheated on you with someone temporary. if i were you, i would've killed me sooner. however, i won't lie and say i'm not hurt. if my wife were to kill me, i'd prefer it to be in an easy, quick way. you've chosen your part and i can't change that, but promise me: on my deathbed, you'll be there. it's not a request to mock you, but a request of seeing you one last time," suguru empties himself out, pouring onto you a bucket of words that hold the truth. the ugly truth you've avoided.

literally fuck off. it means nothing now, you think, judging suguru's words.

"i've been horrible and nothing can change that. i will not beg for forgiveness, nor will i beg for your love. it's already been done. but please, my dear... let me say sorry," his voice quiets to the end and the caressing stops. his hand remains firm, waiting for you to come out of your fake shell. "i know you're not asleep. answer me, please."

caught red-handed.

"i don't care for your fucking apology. it's a bit too late," you spit your venom out, thanking the gods that your back is what's facing him. "matter of fact, i hope you die soon. do as you wish, though. your time is limited."

suguru doesn't answer yet. his arm around you tightens. his breathing's getting uneven — you can hear it. it's shaking, the same way your eyes are shaking to prevent any tears — or as you call it, the pity tears.

he takes in a deep breathe, verbally exhaling a shaky one in return, "then, i'll apologize. i'm sorry."

that's it, huh, you think, almost voicing out your thoughts.

"it means nothing to apologize for actions i could've prevented a long time ago. so, i'm sorry. sorry that i've wronged you to the point you plot my death," he finishes, not having any more to say.

you wriggle out of his grasp, turning to face him. it's dark yet you can see his sadness. isn't that just too bad? the bar of the love you still feel for suguru exists, yet its overpowered by the hatred you've accumulated for him. it stings that he's going like this, but you rather it be by your own arms instead of another's.

"i don't have anything to say," you quietly speak, looking at suguru in the eyes. "if it doesn't work, then i hope you recover in the worst way. if it works and you die, i'll kiss you a merciful death."

the conversation ends. what's left are two adults staring into each other's eyes. there's nothing but empty voids facing each other. voids they once filled, voids they once created. it's too late; too late for anything. suguru's a petty liar if he says he's not afraid. who isn't afraid of death? he doesn't want to die, but what's done cannot be undone. he cannot turn the clock anti-clockwise and fix his actions. you won't be switching lanes, and it's set what the outcome will be.

minute¹ — pronounced my·new·tuh. meaning: extremely small. two synonyms: tiny, little.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen. #so this was definitely a thought #3.8k wc | tw. attempts of murder #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto angst #geto suguru angst #jjk angst #geto suguru x you #geto x you #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen angst

[hoomandoescosplay]

Static | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

“Alastor, the radio demon, is supposedly quite a popular name in Hell. So much so that his name had somehow ventured into the human world.”

“Some people have even tried to summon the demon by giving him offerings hoping he’d show himself to them and grant them powers beyond their own capabilities.”

My friend Naomi explains to me while we walk to our class. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried to summon him.” I sigh. “You usually don’t bring this kind of stuff up before you’ve tried it.”

She’s always been into magic and witchcraft. I honestly don’t understand any of it but she loves talking to me about it.

I definitely believe that kind of stuff exists in the world but it can be so confusing, especially when people make stuff up all the time.

Naomi has said she’s experienced many phenomenons before but she has quite a creative mind.

Naomi grins as she nods her head. “Of course I’ve tried it! Would you like to give it a try? I have the instructions written down in one of my spellbooks.” She starts to rummage around in her backpack.

“It shouldn’t take long. We can do it after school gets out today.” My eyes go wide as I pull her arm stopping us from walking.

“Are you crazy? Absolutely not. No way do I want to try that.” Naomi chuckles. “You really need to learn to have some fun.”

She continues, “There’s no harm in calling out a demon and asking for powers. Besides, you don’t think he’ll actually show up do you?”

I just stare at her. She’s crazy, she has to be crazy. “No harm?” I echo bewildered. I let out a strained laugh. “I honestly don’t even know how to respond to what you just said.”

Naomi shrugs. “The worst thing that can happen is the summoning doesn’t work and your day proceeds as normal. That’s what I call ‘no harm’.” Her smile widens.

“And,” she adds. “It’s our senior year. We have to do something fun and mysterious.” I sigh again. “I guess you’re right.” I readjust my backpack as I take a second to think. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Naomi squeals with delight. “Oh! You’re not going to regret it, not one bit! This is going to be amazing, just you wait and see!” She pulls a small leather bound book out of her backpack.

“Here we are. ‘How to summon demons 101.’ Let’s see what we need…” Naomi starts to scan through a few of the book’s pages.

I see other students look at us as they walk past and I can feel my face heat up. “Maybe we should look at your book after school.” I suggest quietly.

Naomi’s eyebrows raise as she looks up at me. “Yeah… I guess that would be for the best. This isn’t exactly the type of thing you can just pull out of your backpack and flip through in the middle of a hallway without drawing attention to yourself.”

She quickly puts her book back away and we continue to walk to our class.

A few minutes later, we arrive at our class and quickly shuffle into our seats. I look over at Naomi and she’s grinning at me before turning back to face the front of the room.

The teacher quickly walks into the classroom, and class begins. The class progresses as it normally would. The teacher gives the lesson and asks a few questions here and there.

A few times, I catch Naomi looking in my direction, likely waiting until the end of class to start the summoning.

The clock on the wall slowly creeps closer to the end of class. The other students gradually lose interest in the lecture and start to daydream as the teacher keeps lecturing on.

After a few more minutes of lecturing, the teacher pauses. “That’s all the time we have for today. I’d like to end the day with a reminder of our next assignment and the due date for the project we’ve been working on all week.”

I can see Naomi jittering in her seat as we wait to be dismissed and I roll my eyes with a small smile.

The teacher makes a few more announcements before the bell rings. The class quickly rises to their feet and most students start to shuffle for the door.

As I try to make my way to the door, I bump into Naomi who eagerly grabs onto my arm in a tight grip. “Let’s go, you ready?”

I nod. “As ready as I can be.” Naomi squeals once more. “Yes, that’s the spirit!” She starts to pull me out of the classroom, down the hallway and out the front of the school.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

We get to Naomi’s house after a short walk and as we walk in she checks to make sure her parents aren’t home.

“Quick, let’s go up to my room.” Naomi’s eyes dart back and forth as she leads me up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Naomi quickly shuts the door behind me and I can hear her quietly lock the door. She quickly heads over to her bed, places her backpack on it, and pulls out her spellbook.

Naomi quickly flips through the pages as she starts listing off some of the items needed. “Okay… Here’s what we need: a black candle, a glass of water, a salt circle, and the words spoken in the summoning.”

I nod as I walk towards her bed to place my backpack down as well. “Can I see?” I ask, trying to take a peek at her book.

Naomi chuckles and shakes her head. “Not now. As soon as everything is set-up, I’ll let you get a glance.” She closes her book fast.

“Now help me grab some supplies from the closet. I only have one candle.” Naomi walks over to the closet as she waits for me to join her.

I immediately get a strange feeling but shrug it off and walk towards her.

The two of us enter the closet and start grabbing the supplies needed for the candle and the salt circle.

Naomi grabs the candle and a lighter, as well as a small glass for the water while I grab a large bag of salt that’s sitting on the top shelf of the closet.

I make sure to hold the bag of salt carefully so that it doesn’t spill. I then join Naomi back in the middle of the room and she starts to pour the salt into a near perfect circle around the middle of the ground.

As she pours the salt, I can see Naomi make sure that every inch of the circle is covered.

At the very center of the circle, she places the candle and the glass of water. “What’s the glass of water for?” I ask curiously.

“It’s the vessel that holds the demon’s spirit which allows him to take a physical form.” Naomi’s eyes light up as she explains this to you.

I begin to ask another question but she cuts me off. “Oh! I forgot we also need a knife. I’ll be right back.” She runs out of the room as I process what she said. “A knife? Hmm that’s weird.” I mumble.

I have a quiet moment to myself while Naomi is out of the room. I take this moment to walk towards her book and flip through the pages quickly.

The last few cover the ritual we were planning on doing and my eyes widen when I realize none of the materials we collected were used to summon the radio demon.

Suddenly I hear her footsteps coming back up the hallway making me close the book fast. As I’m holding it I make a split second decision to shove it into my backpack.

I then quickly ran to stand back in the area I was in before she left. She opens the door, holding a small steak knife in her hand as she smiles at me.

Naomi happily holds up the knife for me to see. “Look! Isn’t it shiny? It’ll make the ritual look cooler, especially when we plunge it into... Oh well you’ll find out in no time.”

I just stare at her trying to remain calm. “That’s when the fun part starts!” Her eyes shimmer as she stares at me.

“You know,” I start off. “I don’t know if I’m feeling up to this anymore. I didn’t tell my parents I was stopping over here so I should probably head home.” I say quietly.

“Huh? What do you mean you’re not feeling up for this?” Naomi’s voice sharpens as she steps toward me.

I instinctively take a step back as I feel my voice catch in my throat.

“No, no, no. You’re not leaving until this is finished.” Naomi starts walking toward me with the knife held up in front of her.

I continue to walk back more hoping to get to my backpack. “I’m really sorry but maybe another time?” I lie hoping to sound believable enough.

Her voice grows louder as she continues to walk toward me. “Another time? What do you mean another time? No, you’re not leaving until this is finished! There’s no turning back now, we’re in way too far.”

I grab my backpack and try to sidestep her to get to her boardroom door.

As soon as I start to pass her Naomi’s arm quickly reaches out and grabs me.

She pulls me close to her and holds the knife close to my neck as she speaks in a slightly quieter voice, although she’s still angry and loud. “I told you there’s no turning back. You’re not leaving until this is finished.”

“Please let go of me Naomi.” I whisper out. “You really don’t need me for this.” Naomi grips my arm slightly tighter as she tightens the knife against my neck.

She laughs lightly as she stares into my eyes with a devious expression. “Oh, but I do. The ritual calls for a sacrifice and you happen to be the lucky one that I’ve chosen.”

I grab her hand trying to get her to let go of my arm. In response she tightens her grip even more with each time I try to pull her hand off.

“What did I just say? The ritual requires a sacrifice and I can’t have you backing out on me now. I’ve been waiting to summon this demon for months.” My eyes widen as I come to a realization.

“So, you’re gonna sit down and stay put until it’s finished. Okay?” I feel myself start to shake.

“Did you- did you become friends with me just because you wanted to use me for this…” I pause as I take a second to swallow. “For this ritual?”

Naomi’s eyes narrow as she leans in close to my ear to answer. “Of course I did. What, you didn’t think that I’d genuinely want to be friends with you, did you?”

She waits to see if she can get any reaction out of me before continuing. “I saw you standing there by yourself, like a lost little deer, and I knew that I could use you to my advantage.”

She leans back a bit to laugh at the situation causing the knife to stray away from my neck slightly. A strange static feeling in the air makes me notice the knife’s gap.

I quickly dart my eyes around the room and notice that she never re-locked the door after getting the knife.

I use this opportunity to sling my backpack off my shoulder and shove it into her creating enough distance between us.

Naomi lets out a shriek of frustration and surprise as the backpack bumps into her.

She drops the knife and I have enough time to make a break for it. I quickly run out of her room and down the stairs to the door.

I hear her shout out my name from behind me, but I don’t slow down and refuse to turn around to look at her.

Instead, I keep running down the stairs as I open the front door and sprint as fast as I can out the front door and down the sidewalk.

My heart beats out of my chest as I run as fast as I can towards my house.

I get there safely and rush inside, immediately shutting and locking the door behind me.

I sigh in relief as I lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths.

After I’ve calmed down a bit I stand up from against the door. I look around and notice my parents aren’t home yet so I head to my room.

My mind is racing as I realize what just happened. I’ve just escaped from Naomi who planned to sacrifice me in order to summon a demon.

I’m lucky to be alive, and it was pure luck that I happened to slip away. That weird static feeling in the air gave me enough courage to try and create enough space between us for me to run.

I can’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort knowing that the static feeling seemed to have given me some courage to make a break for it.

It’s like something was watching over me in that moment. Whether is was a good or bad something I couldn't care less.

I then remembered I swiped her book earlier. I immediately put my backpack on my bed and pulled out the book.

I flip through the pages, looking for anything that could give me a better idea of what kind of ritual Naomi was planning.

It’s clear it was some sort of demon summoning ritual, but I’m still anxious about what the book has to say about it.

Instead, I feel that static presence once more and before I know it I’ve flipped to the page about the radio demon.

The moment my eyes read the words “The radio demon,” I can feel my heart stop in my chest.

The static feeling in the air intensifies, making the words on the page almost glow. My mind becomes fuzzy while my body remains motionless as I try to process all of this.

I skim over the different sections describing the many reasons people try to summon the radio demon. Some of them are more selfish while others are more selfless.

The section on revenge catches my attention as I imagine getting revenge against Naomi.

It explains that one of the perks of summoning the radio demon is having the ability to exact revenge on those who have wronged you.

The exact method of how to summon him isn’t too complicated and only requires a few items, all of which I’ve got in my room.

I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t try this just for… fuck it I think. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I mock her earlier words.

“Alright. Two can play this game Naomi .” I mutter as I go around my room collecting the materials needed to summon the demon.

By the time I’ve gotten all the items set up, J can’t help but feel nervous.

What if this actually works? What if some kind of demon really shows up in my bedroom?

I feel the static presence in the air get stronger, almost as if something is reassuring me that I’m doing the right thing.

The static presence grows stronger but also warmer as it blankets over my body. The longer I stand in it, the more comfortable I feel.

That’s when my brain starts to wander with questions. What exactly will the demon do once it’s summoned? Will it just stand in my room or will it make itself home in my room?

I can’t help but feel the urge to summon him as the static starts to comfort me. As the static presence continues to grow the urge becomes stronger.

My body feels at ease and any worry or doubts I had start to diminish with every breath.

I begin to recite the words written in the book as the static grows even more.

As I continue to speak I start to hear whispers. Whispers that sound as though they are being transmitted through an old-fashioned radio.

I can barely make out any words from the whispers. They just sound like incomprehensible murmurs.

I close my eyes as I continue. As I finish speaking I keep my eyes closed and I can feel the static in the air. It’s so strong that it makes me think the static has formed itself into an actual presence.

“Well hello there dear. you’ve had an interesting day have you not?” A voice says in front of me.

My eyes snap open at the voice and I see a man, no a demon, in front of me.

He is dressed in a red and black outfit that looks like it’s from the 30’s with a cane that has a microphone attached to it.

He also has deer antlers attached to his head along with a monocle on his face.

He leans into the small microphone attached to his cane as he raises an eyebrow. “You know, I’m not that used to getting summoned by a young lady like you, but I must say your reasons for summoning me are certainly… interesting.”

He notices my stunned expression and lets out a hearty chuckle. “I take it this is your first time trying to summon a demon? And to think that you did it to get revenge on that Naomi girl. Very interesting indeed.”

I gain some of my courage back and speak up. “How did you know I wanted to get revenge on her?”

He smiles as he leans in closer to me, his voice a low hum as he answers. “I knew the moment you started the ritual. Those words of revenge are exactly the reason I answered your call. Revenge is one of my specialties, after all.”

I take in his features some more as he leans towards me and I feel my face flush. For a demon he’s not bad to look at.

My face flushes more as I process that thought. Something is definitely wrong with me to be thinking that.

He takes notice of the blush on my cheeks and raises an eyebrow curiously. However, he doesn’t speak up about it and instead continues to speak.

“And to think, all you wanted was to take revenge on dear little Naomi. What did you plan to do? Stab her?” I shrug and I glance away.

“I figured you’d just have a plan.” I mumble slightly embarrassed that I didn’t think this all the way through.

He nods as he looks me over momentarily. “Of course I have a plan. I’ve been doing this for quite some time now.”

He pauses for a moment. “So, are you ready to go and get your revenge? All you have to do is sit back and let me take care of the rest.”

I nod and his grin widens making the static feeling in the room intensify. “So it’s a deal then little deer?” He asks, extending out his hand to me.

I look down to his outstretched hand and feel myself hesitate despite wanting to take it.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m actually making a deal with a demon. Like this is actually happening and I’m not just dreaming it.

On the other hand, he seems fairly well-mannered and he did promise to take care of the entire thing. Plus, that voice of his is quite hypnotic.

I grab his hand and shake it. “It’s a deal.” A laugh track starts to play from his microphone and a chill goes up my spine.

I look at him straight in the eyes before the room starts to spin and I feel myself blackout.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

As I regain consciousness the first thing I notice is the blood on my hands and a static feeling in the air.

I hear a laugh track play from behind me and as I turn around I’m greeted with by the radio demon’s eyes.

“You did a wonderful job my little deer. Not the cleanest job but a wonderful job nonetheless.” He says while gesturing to Naomi’s lifeless body in front of my feet.

I realize what the blood on my hands means as I see Naomi’s lifeless body as I look down towards the ground. She appears to be lifeless and unmoving, not even seeming to breathe.

I start to take shallow breaths as my body shakes. “We need to…” I begin before taking a shaky breath. “We need to clean this up. Hide this-”

I don’t want to get caught. I don’t want anyone to find out I think as I am still shaking.

You can hear him chuckling softly in the background. “Relax my little deer, nobody will be finding this body anytime soon.”

He looks around and I can see his eyes shine as a thought comes to his mind. “Besides, we’ve got bigger plans to take care of now.”

“And those plans are?” I ask barely above a whisper. This causes his grin to widen.

“Why what I shall do with your soul of course.” He chuckles as I stare at him wide eyed.

“That’s exactly right my little deer. You summoned me and made a deal with me, and the moment I completed your little revenge the deal became sealed.”

He leans into his microphone as if he was addressing a crowded room of people. “The contract is signed, now all I need to do is collect my prize.”

My mind races on what he could mean by that. Is he going to kill me? Will he just take control of my body?

He chuckles as he reads the look on my face. “I know you’re thinking a million things right now. How about I get rid of that uncertainty for you and just get straight to the point.”

I gulp as I just continue to stare at him. “You’re an interesting one. So, I shall let you live out the rest of your human life.”

He pauses as more static fills the room. “However, the moment you die and come to Hell you are mine. Your soul is mine. And I will be able to control you like a pawn whenever I please.”

His voice shifts to more of a demonic tone as he finishes speaking. While I know I should be utterly terrified and live the rest of my life in unresting fear all I can think about is how I wouldn’t mind being a pawn to him.

I have a feeling this won’t be the last I see of him before I eventually end up in Hell.

His grin grows wider as he senses that I’m not feeling as frightened as most people usually are when confronting a demon.

Instead, it seems to him I’m enamored even. “I must say, my little deer, you aren’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #pre hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor imagine #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #x reader #x you #x y/n #reader imagine #reader insert #reader input #romance #tw murder #attempted murder #eventual romance

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

*TW*

Hello!!! I absolutely love platonic yanderes with teenage reader so can I ask for a fic where the teen!reader is basically a traumatized being. They have experienced hell throughout their life from mental abuse to physical abuse. Like I mean, they have gotten in many dangerous situations which ended up with police involved (kidnapped, assaulted, murder attempt). Ofc the reader never really did anything wrong, they were just an innocent child till everything went downhill. They don't have any family members left leading them to stay at an orphanage. Anddd you could say the orphanage people aren't the nicest. And their mental health has become so fucked up that they had attempted suicide.

You don't have to do this if ur uncomfortable ofc. Sorry about how triggering the request might be

On the roof

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Cast x GN! Teen! Traumatized! Reader

Description: You are on the rooftop in the middle of the night.

Trigger warning: Suicide attempt. Abuse. Child abuse. Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted murder.

List of Suicide hotline numbers can be found here and here.

Warning: One swear word. English is my second language.

__________________________________

You silently opened the door, that leads to the roof of an orphanage. With your phone in hand, you take a few steps forward.

The door closed behind you.

You just stand here. You were silent.

You were here. You wanted to end this.

You sighed and looked around.

Should you just... Go to the edge and jump? It's not like someone would care about you.

You didn't bother with the last note.

No one would care about the reason.

You will simply become a name in documents.

You just wanted to be heard.

You mindlessly looked at your phone.

Should you take it with you?

Or left it here, so someone else would use it?

Your gaze stopped at the "BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan" icon. Will the new owner delete it? Or will continue your progress?

You tapped on the icon. You didn't leave a note.

Yet, you "talked" to BSD Characters so often, that it seems right, to let them hear your last words.

Your reasons.

You opened the Main Menu and choose 'Meeting Hall' option.

The picture of ADA Office appeared. And Chibis of all BSD Characters appeared.

This new option was cute. You liked petting chibis.

All chibis 'looked' at you.

And you finally spoke.

"Mom was strange..."

________

Your mom was strange.

She smelled funny. Like water everyone told you not to drink.

Sometimes, she stared at you. Stared for a long time.

And there were rules.

1. Don't cry.

2. Don't annoy mom.

3. You eat last.

4. If you stayed past curfew, you will sleep outside.

5. Don't tell anyone about your home life.

At least, she let you play outside as much as you want. Mom liked, when you were away from home.

*******

You were five, when you got kidnapped.

That night, you wake up to get some water.

Mom saw you.

In her eyes, you broke a rule.

You were sleeping outside.

One moment you were trying to get comfortable under the porch.

Next moment a man in a mask was dragging you in a van.

Three days.

You were in a dark, scary place for three days.

On a third day you heard two men talking.

"What do you mean, that mother didn't realize, that kid were missing?!"

_____

"Still... Mom paid the ransom. Kidnappers left me. It takes three more days for police to find me..."

____

You were standing near a police officer. And your mom finally arrived to the police station to collect you.

You walked to her, your head was low.

She hit you.

You screamed.

You collapsed on the floor, and your mother bent over you. She hissed and pushed you in the side with her feet.

"Are you satisfied, brat? Get up and go pack your belongings, we’re moving to a shed."

"You should treat your kid more kindly..." the officer grumbled. Your mother squealed.

"Kindly?! This brat had ruined my whole life!” Your mom was mad. She screamed like a fury, jumped in place and gave cowering you blow after blow. You didn’t try to dodge. You just trembled, curled up into a ball.

"Hubby ran away as soon as he gets it inside me! But dear relatives didn’t let me throw it away. They didn’t let me give it to an orphanage! They said that I need to raise this child! They stood up for a little bastard! But now, when I need to pay debt, they are nowhere to be found! They say I play cards too much! I'm just unlucky! Things are not going my way! The house is mortgaged! I poured all my savings into the last card game and won! I would pay off all my debts! And because of this thing, I now have to live in a shed! What will I tell my family now?! What will others say about me?!"

Officer heard enough.

The CPS were called.

_______

"... They were trying to find my father... Until then, grandmother and grandfather agreed to took me in..."

_______

You were six.

Your grandfather sat on the opposite side of the table.

Your textbook and notebook were laying on the table before you.

And your grandfather was talking.

"I finished checking your homework. As I expected, you are a little idiot. A stupid, worthless waste of space. You have made few stupid mistakes. You wrote numbers in a wrong order.

Grandfather opened your notebook. A red paste was covering the page.

2 + 1 = 3 1 + 2 = 3

3 + 1 = 4. 1 + 3 = 4

"So..." Grandfather take a ruler.

"Give me your hand. It will be ten hits for every wrong number."

________

"...it took two year to find my father. He had a family. And I... I was a child from affair. They never let me live it down... For years"

_______

You were nine.

The blow, when it came, took all of your air out of your lungs. You would have fallen if not for your two... "siblings" holding you.

"It feels good, giving a good beating to a dirtbag, right?"

The next hit was in your left eye. You managed to close it in time.

But it will be swollen.

You felt hot breath on your face.

"Your hair is too good for a bastard child."

Your sister brought the scissors up to your hair.

Snip, snip, snip. Cutting right alongside the scalp, sending your hair like leaves swirling to the ground.

Then scissors were plunged into your stomach.

"Die, child of a dirty whore."

______

"...Police was called. They were arrested. But I remained with father and his wife..."

_____

You were twelve.

You were going food shopping. Big bags were heavy, you were tried.

You still need to clean up the house and make dinner.

When you were attacked, because someone tied to rob you, you didn't even care.

You only knew, that, you will be beaten again for being late. And for losing food.

You were long past gone. There were no point in carrying about yourself.

~~~~~~

You were thirteen.

Your father, his wife and you were going to the funeral.

Your father's uncle died.

Now he only has his wife and kids. And you.

He noticed your gaze in a reflection.

He yelled at you for staring.

And he crashed.

You spent three hours in a broken car.

You were the only survivor.

_______

"... I was sent to an orphanage. I am too old to have any chance to be adopted. And I wasn't the only one, who had no chance to have a family..."

______

You tasted dirt and blood. An old rug was thrown over your head, to make it harder for you to fight back.

Someone pressed a knee on the back of your neck and held your face against the ground.

A kick in the side made you roll on your back.

Another person began to push down on your neck with an arm.

You began to struggle, thrashing about with your legs and beating them against the floor, but it was no good.

There were other kids around—at least a dozen of them. One of them would do something. One of them was sure to see that things were taking too far. Your vision began to go fuzzy.

Caretakers saved you only because the noise didn't let them watch TV.

________

"I couldn't take it anymore. I... thank you... Thank you for making me happy... For being the only happy thing in my life."

You finished talking and put your phone on the ground. You stand up and walked towards the edge.

You heard a loud noise. You turned around.

BSD Characters were standing behind you. Real.

And you were still standing near the edge. You were silent. Nikolai lift his overcoat and put his hand into the portal.

His head reappeared near you. You jumped away. Now you were even closer to the edge.

"No... I... I don't want to... Don't come closer..." whispered you. You took another step. You were almost here.

"[Y/N], if you go back, I will give you a hug!"

You froze and turned around.

Kenji Miyazawa made a step forward. He opened his arms, offering a hug.

"I promise, I will give you a hug. Come here... You really need a hug."

You trembled. You moved towards Kenji.

Step. After step. After step.

Kenji was standing here. Offering a hug.

You launched yourself forward, wrapping your arms around Kenji. He immediately hugged you back.

You cried. For the first time in years.

In a few minutes, you were in a middle of a large group hug.

________

You are fifteen.

You are living with your family.

You still have a long path to recovery.

And you are not alone.

BSD Cast will stay with you.

And will make sure, that you will never be hurt again.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: child abuse #tw: abuse #tw: kidnapping #tw: attempted murder

[autocrats-in-love]

Prompt (195)

The villain had accepted this is how they would die. They stopped struggling against the arms pushing them underwater. Everything was hazy. The villain closed their eyes as their lungs burned.

And then the arms came off them and different hands reached down, snatching the villain's collar and hauling them to the surface of the lake.

The villain took deep breaths of air and started coughing. They were dragged a few metres to shore and laid down. They turned over and threw up water and bile onto the grass. They opened their eyes and things were very blurry.

But they were sure they saw the hero standing in front of them, protectively.

"Stay away from them," the hero snarled at the villain's attacker.

The hero's grip tightened on the blood-covered crowbar in their right hand.

#villain x hero #hero x villain #my prompts #hero prompt #villain prompt #rescue #tw blo0d #tw attempted murder #tw suffocation #tw manhandling #autocrats in love

[electrozeistyking]

I said “Uzi and the Murder Drones” once and I thought it sounded like a band, so I drew a poster.

#murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones uzi #murder drones v #serial designation n #uzi doorman #serial designation v #don’t mind uzi she’s just doing the gremlin crouch #tw eyestrain #eyestrain #goodness me if I need to tag more let me know #I’m not insensitive I’m just stupid #zeisty’s heavy hitters #sorry it’s just my tag for serious art (meaning i didn’t intentionally attempt to make it silly)

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up. 

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time. 

Not that Gareth trusted it. 

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire. 

Like he was a burden instead of a person. 

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight. 

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that. 

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big. 

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up. 

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint. 

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with. 

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights. 

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation. 

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't. 

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

 Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess." 

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more. 

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway. 

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked. 

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker. 

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light. 

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it. 

He flushed scarlet. 

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand. 

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large. 

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction. 

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys. 

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.” 

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

 “--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from. 

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did. 

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out. 

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer. 

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out. 

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you." 

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--" 

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

#adopt a jock #steddie #pre steddie #theyre getting closer lol #steven harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #outsider pov #tw anxiety #tw bloodstains #tw nailbail #< that TW is for eddie #mike attempts to chain smoke lol #fun fic facts I keep finding new ways to spell gareths name wrong #current favorite is Garereth #Also #Steve is canonically the one who uses literally fucking anything as a murder weapon. Lamp #a fucking dishtowel he threatens the kids with in S2 #etc. Jonathan grabs FUCK ALL idk how he made it this far #honestly. #everyone lives no one dies #sorry for the cliffhanger it was either cut it there or make a MONSTER chapter

[lavendel081]

Robins Past pt.2

#tw abuse #tw attempted murder #stardew valley #yomi art #stardew cope #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #sdv #sdv robin #sdv demetrius #stardew robin #stardew demetrius #stardewvalley #stardew

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

remember that post that was like “c//a needed to be more toxic, they should have stabbed each other”?

i hate to say it but attempted murder was the least of c//a's concerns. stabbing each other would somehow be healthier than all the shit that was shoved into this trainwreck of a ship.

#they really think that we call c//a toxic because catra tried to kill adora #and not because of all the psychological and physical abuse even when they were friends #how cute #don't get me wrong i'm not saying that attempted murder is okay #but that's a staple in most serious enemies to lovers ships #that's not what made c//a toxic #spop critical #spop salt #spop criticism #spop #spop discourse #she ra #anti spop #anti catra #anti catradora #anti c//a #antic//a #anticatra #anticatradora #tw abuse

[delopsia]

Reeth | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 10,000   Cross Posted on AO3 Brief Summary: Between his injuries and his insecurities, Rhett nearly falls apart. But you're there to put him back together again. Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, hurt/comfort (physically and emotionally), bodily injury, blood, brief mentions of violence and attempted murder, crying, brief appearance of food, Rhett's self-doubts and insecurities, rodeos, body worship & praise, I love you's, riding, overstimulation, happy ending. Inspired from the song Reeth by Penny and Sparrow.  

There's something thumping.

A dull, insistent tap, tap, tap that seems to stop when you lift your head but restarts when your head reunites with the cool material of your pillow. Mayhaps the antics of a ghost you're not yet aware of in this big old rental home. Or maybe it's the antics of the boy down the road, who thinks ding-dong ditching is practical in a town where the men are trigger-happy, the land is flat, and driveways are a mile long at the bare minimum. 

Or maybe it's your elderly neighbor pleading for help because her husband fell again. 

Thunder rumbles, icy drops of rain pattering like a symphony against your metal roof. If it's not a tree limb, and someone is truly out the door, then something must be wrong. Lightning bathes your bedroom in a brief flash of white, and the longer you wait for the following boom of thunder, the thinner the air seems to become. Shit.

The last thing you feel like doing is crawling out of bed; you've only just begun to fall asleep, but alas, your feet hit the cold hardwood anyway. Sleepily padding down the hallway, past the kitchen, and toward the front door, where the knocking seems to have stopped once more. The house is silent as you peek out your window, fighting to get a glimpse of who may be at your door. The porch is empty, devoid of anything but leaves blown up against the house. 

But there's movement down your cracked sidewalk. A tall figure stumbling away from your door. 

Icy wind blasts the door open, ripping the handle from your hand as it rushes past. Strong enough to knock over picture frames and the knick-knacks from the table by the door, but you hardly notice it. "Rhett?"

That has to be him because he slows to a halt. It's dark, but it's hard to miss the way he minds his left foot as he turns. That's him, that's him, and you're trying to come to him, but you can't move. Feet frozen to the wet concrete of your porch step. 

Even the downpour cannot wash the blood from his face. Dripping from the bridge of his nose. A gash in his left cheekbone. And from somewhere up in his hairline, streaking down his forehead. He opens his mouth, but the only thing to come out is crimson liquid. Pouring down his chin. Staining his flannel. 

The sound of your name cuts through the air. Garbled by blood that he can't swallow down. Drowned out by the rain. And the wind that rustles through trees. And the thunder that rattles the ground. 

 He's speaking again, but you don't understand him. Tripping over his own feet. Reaching out for you. Like you're just out of his reach. A sob pierces through the air because his arms come up empty. Mutters it again. 

"Help."

His knees crumble out from under him.

And he drops. 

You can't move quickly enough.

Running out into the pouring rain. Uncaring of how the freezing rain feels like tiny bullets upon your skin. Can't hear the slam of thunder because it's washed out by the wail of a cowboy. 

A cowboy who can't lift himself up as he reaches for you. Whimpers your name when you drop into the grass and pull him up into your arms. His head heavy against your chest. Trembling with such a force that you shake with him. Those once strong arms wind around you. Dangling loosely. Not strong enough to do anything more. 

The dull glow of your porch light illuminates more than you can bear to witness. 

Bruises mottle his cheek, knuckle shaped and leading up to a deep, blackened bruise in the corner of his left eye. So close, it's easy to catch onto the split in his scalp, sliced open by something sharper than human nails. Reaches down to his left ear, takes a small divot out of the shell of it. There's a matching one on his forearm, scrawling up through his beloved bull-skull tattoo, and that's only what you can see at a glance. 

"Baby," whispering into his uninjured ear, cradling him to your chest, "what happened?" 

Lightning flickers; no sound to it, but he flinches into you anyway, shudders worse than the leaves in the trees as the autumn wind howls past. "It's my fault," his voice cracking, unable to hold together. "t's my fault...I started it." 

In the back of your head, you can still hear yourself asking him to keep out of trouble; a bar fight a month doesn't sound like a lot until you're the one patching him up. You can't even begin to count the number of times you've been witness to the aftermath of what cheap beer and a small disagreement can lead to.  "Rhett..." it slips out on its own. 

"I'll be good!" He hiccups, "I'll—I'll be good! I'm sorry!" Choking on tears and blood and rain that you can't wipe away quickly enough. Still tries to talk as he coughs, beginnings of more I'm sorry's that never fully leave his frantic tongue. 

His arms squeeze tighter. Yet they're still a shadow of their usual strength as he squirms closer. "Please don't...please don't leave me out..." stammering, can hardly get his head up against your chest like he's trying so hard to do. "Please don't...don't..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," and you're shushing him, soothing your hands over his messy face, and his head is heavy as he leans into it like he can't keep his own head up without help. "Rhett, look at me, breathe." 

"Don't—don't leave..." sucking in harsh breaths he can't catch, mouth moving, but not a thing coming out.  

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," you're whispering, and for a second, you think the storm has calmed just long enough for him to hear your words. Frigid rain has long since soaked through your clothes, and you need to go inside, but all you can think about is pulling this trembling cowboy closer. 

"I've got you. I promise," cooing into his ear, stroking the back of his head. "You're alright; I've got you." His cold nose finally finds its way into the crook of your neck, and you don't care if the blood stains your shirt or not. 

The wind screams past your head, feels like it'll rip the clothes right off your body. Tiny pellets of hail strike at your skin, and you think they might just pierce through you. "Let's get you inside, alright?" 

You're surprised that he's got the strength to nod, never mind get back up to his feet. A heavy weight against you, his arm slung over your shoulders because he can't support much weight on his left foot. This screeching wind has the pair of you teetering from side to side, and his foot catches on the first stair of your small porch. 

And this part is easy; he knows this routine too well. Stumbling down your short hallway and into the bathroom, damn near collapsing onto the floor when you reach down to turn on the water to the bathtub. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Asking as you help him unbutton his shirt, revealing a myriad of deep red and purple marks that will surely worsen come morning. The handiwork of angry fists and the sharp edge of a steel-toe boot kicking at his ribs while he was down. 

"Perry..." he starts; those eyes flutter, and just like that, he stops. Like he's still recollecting the rest of the story. 

Well, that explains it.

Bar fights are almost always broken up before they can do damage such as this, and you've almost always had to come down to the police station to release him of Sherrif Joy's care. And even though you've seen firsthand how the Tillerson brothers are always looking for a fight with their neighbors, they know when enough is enough. 

Luke and Rhett have been at each other's throats for years, but Luke doesn't kick a man while he's down. Where's the fun in an opponent who doesn't fight back? 

Rhett's nemesis of a neighbor has more respect for him than his own brother.

The worst part is getting Rhett's legs over the edge of your clawfoot bath, and you're thankful that you've already seen the worst of his injuries because you don't think you can bear seeing another open wound. 

"Was he drunk?" Only asking indirect questions as you rub this soapy cloth across his cheek. Washing away the dirt and blood that's caked to his skin until you can see his pretty face once more. 

"He flew off the handle at mom," he sniffles, reaching up to rub a drop of water from his nose, "'n my smartass decided that was a good time to say that his temper is why Rebecca ran." 

You hate the way that he whimpers when you have to wash the blood from his scalp. Clean water stinging at somewhat-open wounds, only further upset when you carefully scrub dried blood from his hair. The sight of these cuts makes your stomach twist sourly, but they're closing without assistance; no need for DIY stitches or a two-hour hospital trip. Not yet, at least. 

"I think...he," Rhett's eyes flicker up to yours, swollen and red; if he had any tears left, they'd be streaking down his cheeks by now, "he tried to...he tried to kill me."

"And your parents didn't..." you're trying to find what to say, scrambling for thought; what do you say? "They didn't stop him?"

His response takes a while to come. 

Silent as you dry him with a towel and help him step into some clothes he's left in case of unplanned sleepovers. Doesn't find what to say as you apply ointment to his wounds and wrap his sliced forearm. His eyes speak a million and one words, but they don't string together into full sentences. A hurt that doesn't restrict itself to physical pain alone. 

"Want some ice cream?" You chirp, holding his hand as he gingerly sinks onto your couch.

Those saddened eyes light up like little blue fireworks, knows that you've still got a pint of his favorite in the freezer. Chocolate chip cookie dough. His head bobs with a nod, a small, "please," falling off his bitten tongue. 

You'll forever take pride in being the one to introduce him to this flavor. Originally, you'd only done it to keep him from nibbling on your baking endeavors before they even touched the oven. Now, you keep it around just to see him brighten up after a long day. 

Who would have thought that they make ice cream flavors that are not Royal's beloved vanilla bean? 

But his hands are trembling far too hard. Spoon tumbling out of his flimsy grip and falling into his lap before he can even scoop any ice cream onto it. His frown deepens. Tries again, reaching for the spoon, but he can't seem to pick it up. Fingers poking and prodding, trying to pick up something that they simply cannot grasp. 

"Here," picking up that evasive spoon, "let me help you."

There's that smile. 

Sheepish, the tips of his ears burning with red, wobbling lips parting, wrapping around the spoon. Doesn't seem to know what to do with himself as you settle down next to him and spoon-feed him his ice cream. 

Especially doesn't know what to do when the bowl is empty, and he impulsively sputters a quiet, "More?" Soft-spoken and shy, afraid to ask for such a thing. 

You leave him with a kiss on his frozen lips and return with the whole damn container. And so what if you let him eat over half of the ice cream that you just bought yesterday? You don't even care that there are tornado sirens blaring outside your home or that Rhett wants to give you sticky kisses that you can feel lingering on your face. 

The storm worsens after his head settles against your chest, listening to the thump of your heartbeat. Your arms have long since wrapped around him, cradling that big, strong body of his and humming when a sniffle wracks through him. The wind howls as loud as she can; you simply turn up the volume to the television. 

It's been nearly two hours when Rhett finally responds to your question. And you've nearly forgotten that you even asked if his parents stopped Perry or not.

"Ma jumped in when Perry got ahold of the kitchen knife," he mutters, his eyes fixated on the movie playing on the screen, "Dad got me by my collar 'n hauled me out back."

Your thumb soothes across the short stubble of his jaw, freshly shaved this morning and already growing back in. Just as stubborn as he is. 

He's quiet again, but only for a moment, "He threw me my keys 'n locked me out." 

"But they didn't lock Perry out?" You already know the answer to your question; not surprised in the slightest when Rhett rumbles a small 'no.' 

You hate to imagine what would happen to him if you weren't around to patch him back up. 

It's hard remembering just how you got into bed. 

Regardless of how and when it happened, you find yourself waking up late into the morning. Cozied up in a big, warm bed with a soft cowboy snuggled into the space beneath your chin, little wisps of his hair tickling your skin. 

It's almost strange to wake up and find him still in bed. On most days, he's off to the ranch before dawn, busting his ass for a full hour before the rest of the family arrives to pick up where they left off. But you suppose being locked out of your own home warrants a day or two of skipping work. 

Your lips press to his forehead, and faintly, you can feel him smile into the crook of your neck.

"Mornin," he murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep, vibrating against your neck. Tilts his head back just far enough to take a look at you, eyes barely open. "'m sorry for showin' up in the middle of the night," pauses to kiss your wrist as you reach to tuck his hair behind his ear, smiling weakly, just for a moment, "I shouldn't 've woken you up." 

"You're allowed to come to me when you're hurt, Rhett," tilting his head up to meet your eye as you speak, "You'd do the same for me if I was in that situation."

He's quiet at that. 

And you're not sure who it was that taught him he's not worthy of being cared for when he's hurt, but you hope they forever regret it. You can't stand the way he frowns and snuggles back into you, doesn't quite believe your words because someone has been telling him otherwise for his entire life. 

It could be the fault of his father, who has gone as far as to teach him that boys don't have birthdays and that they should never cry in front of another person. Maybe it's the fault of his mother for standing by and never stepping in, even when she knew better. Hell, maybe it's the fault of his brother, who blames everyone but himself for his temper. 

Rhett should be laying in bed, letting himself heal and taking it easy on himself, but he follows you out of bed, lingers in the kitchen while you cook, and tries to help where he can. Stretches his weary limbs after breakfast, pushing through a pain so severe that his eyes water as he raises his arms above his head. 

"Are you really sure about riding tonight?" You find yourself asking, running a comb through his hair all the while. He's not particularly happy about it, but he's got some knots in the longer parts, and he's never been one to complain about his hair being played with. Forced scowl melting into upturned lips and smiling eyes.

"I ain't hurt that bad," he says, and you're sure that he believes that to be true, too. Stubborn to the end, this one. 

Your nails rake down the back of his neck, tracing down the soft bumps of his spine, just to watch his back arch into your touch, flinching when he shifts his ribs too much. "You can hardly walk straight, baby."

"'m fine," he meets your eye through the reflection of the mirror, confident as he pushes his poorly forged narrative, "'ve ridden through worse."

Maybe, but most of those 'ridden through worse' times have been fueled by the elusive gift of adrenaline, biting away the pain until the moment the stadium lights shut off for the night. These injuries have had time for the hurt to set in and for sore muscles to tighten.

But you can't say you're surprised when Rhett digs out his gear and, admittedly, slowly gets ready for tonight. He can hardly button his flannel, never mind wriggling into his slightly too-tight jeans and fumbling with his chaps until you take pity on him and help him out. Sliding the thick material up his thighs and giving his ass a playful little squeeze when you're done, all to see him jump. 

"You leave my ass alone!" He squeaks, swatting your offending hand away. 

All you can do is wink; you've already won. "Too late, cowboy." And his pale cheeks are blazing with crimson. For a minute there, he's got you near convinced that he is feeling better. 

Until you catch his facade slipping.

He limps to his truck, parked precariously in your driveway, crawls into the driver's side with all the speed and ease of a ninety-year-old man, his face twisting as he upsets just about every injury he's got. 

"'m fine," he insists as you settle into the passenger seat. 

"'m fine," he says when he puts too much weight on his left foot and gasps at the sudden bite of pain. 

"'m fine," he promises right before he steals his good-luck kiss from your lips and hobbles off to join his buddies before they finish their warmups without him. 

You expect to find Cecelia, Amy, and Royal up in the bleachers, in their spot tucked off into the far corner. They always sit in the same space, where it's easy to hop down and beat the rush of the crowd when the rodeo comes to a close. But they're not there. An empty gap that never fills. 

At least, it doesn't fill until you catch the familiar, warm eyes of deputy sheriff Joy, her wife, and daughter in tow. "Now, this may be a dumb question because I know who usually sits here with you," she pauses, glancing around the stadium once more. Packed to the brim. Not another space to be seen. "But is the space next to you taken?"

"It's all yours," sliding over to make space for them, "I don't think they'll be coming tonight."

Joy and her wife have been nothing but kind to you ever since you stumbled into this hidden town way back when. And maybe that's why, when she asks about where the rest of the Abbotts are, you tell her. Recounting your memory starting from when you awoke last night, not missing a detail.

You only pause to watch as Rhett comes bursting out of the chute. 

His body twisting, right hand held high as he hangs tight. But this bull is mean. Knocks him around like he weighs nothing. Kicking up plumes of red dirt. Never has more than two feet on the ground at a time. Almost smacks Rhett in the face with his horns. Yet, your cowboy manages to stay on until the buzzer sounds. Diving into the dirt in the same, not-so-graceful fashion as his usual.

One good ride. Two more to go. 

"This ain't somethin' I'm supposed to go repeatin'," Joy begins, not a moment after Rhett's disappeared from sight, "but I have good reason to tell you that if nobody stepped in to stop Perry last night, Rhett wouldn't have even made it to his truck." 

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. But nothing comes out. 

She seems to think for a moment, carefully analyzing her words before they ever leave her mouth. "It's cruel to say, but Rhett's safer if he's not in that house."

You hate that she has a point. You're no stranger to Perry and his temper, either.

And then Rhett's up again, firing out of the chute for a second time. His right hand once again held high to the sky as that bull drops into a spiral. Kicking, twisting, and Rhett's glued to this bull's back. 

Until he's not.

The bull makes a sudden twist to the left. And Rhett's falling. Sideways. No time to react. Left shoulder crashing into the cold, hard ground. Tumbling. 

But the bull is still bucking. Spiraling, trying to get that flank strap off. Uncaring as he all but jumps over Rhett's body. Misses him completely. Hooves mere inches away from his face as it turns a sharp left again. 

Heavy hooves dig into Rhett's stomach. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Darting away just as quickly, still bucking as those bullfighters step in. Urging him away.

Rhett's not getting up. 

But he's coiled in on himself. A minuscule ball that doesn't budge until one of the bullfighters rushes in. Yanks him up from the ground and hauls him toward an open chute. Rhett's feet are moving, but they're slow. Struggling to keep up as he's all but drug across the dirt. 

"They won't stop you from seeing him if I go with you," Joy's already ripping you from your stupor, taking you by the hand. "Come on." 

You have no memory of standing up, nor do you recall anything on the way down the stairs. The flickering of the scoreboard briefly steals your attention; Rhett's name no longer occupies the number two slot, but you can't look to find where he's dropped down to. Your ears ring, muffling the chaotic chatter of the rodeo grounds into near silence. 

Joy's leading you somewhere you've never been before; past security, through staff-only gates, and around sharp corners that never seem to end. Places you can't hope to memorize as she hauls you down toward a collection of familiar faces. Rodeo friends that Rhett's introduced you to in the past; you don't recall their names. Nor do you hear their voices as they point you toward where he's at. 

The ringing fades within an instant. 

"He took off on us," one of them is saying, and he's looking dead at you like you can do something about this, "talk him out of riding again, would you?" 

It's not hard to find Rhett. The riders all point you down past the bull chutes, a one-way path that leads directly into the tree line. He's curled himself beneath the thick trunk of an old oak, trembling hand wrapped around an empty can of Rainier Beer.

He hates Rainier. 

"Hey, cowboy," he jolts at the sound of your voice, surprised features instantaneously wrinkling into something pained, jaw clenched, grunting as his injuries bite at his nerves with razor-sharp teeth. 

"You shouldn't..." his voice fades, chest heaving, "shouldn't be back here." 

That rough 'n tough front dissolves the moment you settle next to him. He's muttering to himself, unable to keep upright as he all but collapses into your chest, right arm coiling around you, the left one dangling at his side, limp as can be. 

"I'm the biggest fuck up out here," he sputters, weak against your neck.

"That's not true," you're carefully wrapping your arms around him, hand tangling into his hair as you hold him to you; it's last night all over again, only this time, he wails. A noise that bursts past his lips, wetness forming at your shoulder, and he's shaking and muttering something you can't understand, and there's blood seeping through his shirt and, and— 

"That's not true at all," repeating yourself, murmuring into his ear, stroking the back of his head. Can't reach any further, not with that heavy vest in the way. "Look how far you've come; you're in the finals, Rhett. That means something." 

Two of his buddies are coming around the corner, and you don't need to know their names to know what they're doing back here. 

"Don't touch me," Rhett's snarling like a cornered animal, but they're unphased. A silent team as one grabs him by his collar, pulls him back, and the other gets ahold of his dislocated arm. "Don't! I'm fine! Don't, don't, don't—!"

Crackles soar past your ears. Bones popping back into place. Loud.

But not as loud as the ear-piercing cry that tears through the air. Raw. Torn. The kind of sound that hurts you to see more than it does to hear.

And Rhett's crumbling back into your arms, tears streaming down his cheeks like waterfalls, sobbing into your chest. As broken as the bones in his body. His shoulders tremble as he cries out again, pawing at your sides. Can't lift his arms to hang onto you.

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't know if those words are meant for him or for yourself. You've barely got the strength to wave his buddies on; you've got him, you'll look after him from here. 

His voice is caught in his quivering throat. Choked off noises that barely form words. "You...shouldn't," shaking his head against you, over and over, "shouldn't be dealin' with this."

Something in your gut twists at that. "Rhett..." 

"Look out there! My own fuckin' family ain't—ain't here for a reason," he blurts, and he's trying to look up and meet your eye, but he can't lift his own head. Too heavy for his beaten body to carry.

A choked sob rattles past his lips, "How are you meant to feel safe when I can't even hold my own in a fight I started?" He's reeling back, grimacing, clutching at his lower belly. Still has hoof-shaped prints of dirt on his clothes. 

"All I do is worry you 'n put you through hell," and you hate how Rhett can say these things so easily. Weakly voicing thoughts that have probably been running through his head for months. Years, even. 

His bloodshot eyes burst open as your shaky hands rise to cradle his cheeks. Thumbs stroking away dirt, sweat, and tears to find the remarkably soft skin beneath. Always so soft. Even with all that scruff on his jaw. 

There's blood in his smile, wobbly, but there, some involuntary thing that always happens when you tuck his hair back behind his ear. You're leaning in, ignoring the dirt and grime as you meet those quivering lips with your own. Nothing but a soft lock that you can only hope gets him to hear what you're trying to say. 

"You deserve someone...someone who can give you better than...this," he's talking softly, voice hitching around a sudden gasp for air, "Look at me... 'm a broken piece of trash, most days." 

With a shuddered breath, you begin to speak, "Do you think that I kiss you because of what you give to me?" ignoring the bits of rock that dig into your knees as you bear your weight on them, attention laced solely on this cowboy of yours. The one you've always known would break, eventually, because he's not his father. Never has been, no matter how much he tries to force it. 

His head doesn't nod, but you can see the burning 'yes' in his eyes. Once so vibrantly blue, now a muted hue.

"Well, it goes to show that you're not listening when I say that I know what I deserve," your forehead comes to rest against his, peering into those eyes that you can still become lost in, even all these years later, "And you're not listening when I tell you that you are worth more than you've ever realized."

And he's searching.

Never has been good at words, but he's stellar at finding even a single wrinkle of doubt in a face. Puffy eyes flickering across your features, to your nose, cheeks, chin, lips, but they freeze when they meet your gaze. A puff of breath escapes him. Eyes flickering closed as he leans into you.

He's looked for doubt. Denial. A scent of a lie. 

He hasn't found it. 

"It hurts," whispering, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, as a buzzer sounds. 

"I know," whispering in return, and you think your voice might have cracked. 

"But I need to..." his head twists to look back at the stadium, flinching as he tries to look over his swollen shoulder, "I need to do this. It's...it's my last..."

A part of you already knew he was going to lead back around to that. "You're sure?" 

With a deep breath, he smiles. Something familiar flickering back to life within him. And that's all that needs to be said. 

When you'd stumbled over here, unable to keep in tune with Joy's valiant step, you'd thought it was the physical pain that had brought Rhett to his knees. Body beaten and abused beyond its breaking point, taking him down and swallowing him up in a pit of metaphorical flames.

But as you leave him with a gentle squeeze of the hand. And you listen to him argue with his buddies on your walk to rejoin Joy; you can't help but realize that sometimes, it's the internal wounds that hurt the most. 

Because, would you know it, Rhett Abbott rides like he's never been hurt at all. 

His right hand held high as that raging bull bucks and twists beneath him. Hundreds of pounds of muscle fighting to get him off. Turning with every buck. Never has more than two hooves on the ground at once. 

Two decades ago, Royal Abbott took the Amelia County Rodeo by storm. Won four back-to-back seasons before he suffered a concussion so severe his wife served him an ultimatum. Quit riding or divorce. Rhett's got all but one of those season wins recorded on an old VHS tape. He's played it a million times, the excited giggles of his five-year-old self blaring through the speakers, shaky, unclear footage barely depicting a thing as Royal reclaimed his rodeo crown over and over again.

But out of all those tapes, of all those wins, the crowd never roared as loud as they do when Rhett's name soars back to first place. 

"Down, boy!" 

But your squeals are no use; Rhett's already drug you down, your bodies bouncing painfully against the mattress. His elbow digging into your side. You think your knee smacked into his tailbone. Limbs hopelessly tangling. His hair somehow in your mouth. And he's grunting because his belly is still sore, but he's too stubborn to acknowledge it.

"What did the doctor just say, huh?" You're trying not to giggle, but it's bubbling out of you anyway.

"Dunno, two hours ago is a long time," he deadpans, refusing to move off of you. At least, not until you start reaching for one of the throw pillows. "Sorry! Sorry!" Squirming, rolling off of you and onto the mattress, where he belongs. "Just tryin' to make the most of these painkillers."

Looking at him now and thinking back on the events of earlier, it's hard to believe that all this has happened within the same night. Normalcy shouldn't have come this quickly. This easily. Even so, it's fleeting; the moment this medicine wears off, Rhett's going to be a lump on the couch for the next week, at the least. 

But right now, he's nuzzling his cold nose into your cheek, red and freshly bitten by the chilly autumn wind. Smiling as you look over to him, smiles as he realizes that you've caught on to what he's asking for.

If it were any other day, you'd tease him, make him voice exactly what he wants, and play coy when he isn't specific enough. But you've pushed him enough by taking his keys and driving him to the hospital, and that little impatient grunt of his is so damn hard to resist. 

Rhett hums. Leans into your kiss with all the grace of a fat cat in the sun, rolling lazily into you, his hand skittering up your side. In no hurry to explore each other, the sugary taste of cola still fresh on his tongue, meeting your own in fleeting, shy touches. You wonder if he can taste the same on your own, the evidence of a stolen sip while he wasn't looking.

His body shudders with a shiver that runs through him from head to toe. Squirming even closer to you—

"Fuck," his eyes screw shut as he clutches at his lower belly, hissing. 

"You alright?" He's nodding before you've even finished your question, doesn't open his eyes. You're not sure that you entirely believe him. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this yet."

Images flicker behind your eyelids. Memories. The heavy hooves of a bull that damn near ripped him apart. The rippling crack of a shoulder put back into place, and the earth-shattering cry that followed.

Oh, but why do Rhett's eyes have to sadden like that? Gaze dropping to the comforter, afraid to look at you, like a kid who's just been scolded, "But..." 

"Rhett, look at you. You're hurt." you're curling your hand around his cheek, stroking the thin skin beneath his eye, still a touch swollen from crying, "It's a wonder that you're even walking after tonight." 

"It doesn't hurt that bad, I promise it, it—" stumbling over his words, "It doesn't...it doesn't hurt."

"I know, I know," you're trying to shush him, but he's still muttering under his breath. False promises that neither of you believes, "but you're hurt. Look at your poor stomach, Rhett." 

Your hand wanders to the lower hem of his shirt, gently tugging it up to reveal the abused skin beneath. Once milky white, now a horrific mottling of dark yellows, blues, and purples. That protective vest bore the brunt of most of it, but gear can only do so much. 

Rhett's shaking hands reach for yours, pushing them away, "I can...keep my clothes on?"  Already beginning to tug his shirt back down, concealing those bruises once more, "You don't have to...you don't have to see..."

"Baby..."  is that what this is about? What his body looks like? "That's not..."

You don't know how to finish your sentence.

Rhett's never been good with words. Might not fully understand, even if you handcraft a poem on the spot meant just for him. But maybe, he'll hear you if you voice your thoughts with more than just words...

The mattress squeaks as you begin to move, gingerly swinging your leg over to straddle his thighs. Not sure if his beaten hips can handle any pressure on them, as you lean forward to press your lips to his clothed chest. Working your way up to his open mouth.

"I know you're not fond of them, but I love these lips of yours," you only allow him one kiss because he'll shut you up if you allow him anything more. "And I love seeing them swell after I've given you too many kisses."

Oh, and it's hard to miss those eyes, the way they widen a little, catching onto what you're doing. "And I love these eyes of yours, how they can go from bright blue to nearly black with the simplest change in lighting," his gaze darts away, shy, "you don't speak a lot, but your eyes are always talking. "

Your fingertip runs across his bottom lip, watching how his tongue daringly darts out to lick the pad of it. Leaves a thin, glistening trail as you trace toward his lower jaw, stroking past three-day-old scruff to find the pale white line of a scar, courtesy of a bar fight. "And this old scar, from when we first met..." pausing to stroke down his neck, finding a matching mark beneath his chin, "this one, too..."

"I have a scar there?" He's reaching up, rubbing where your finger rests.

Humming, you press a kiss to each minuscule mark, fingers running along the sides of his neck as you work your way to the soft space beneath his ear. "And the noise you make when I suck on the skin here," pressing your lips there, pleased to hear that involuntary gasp as you apply a little suction, "is worth its weight in gold."

"You don't...you don't have to do this..." his voice vibrates against your mouth, some deep rumbling that could put you to sleep on the spot. 

"I know," beginning to work your way down now, popping open the buttons of this soft, pearl-snap flannel that he loves so much, "but I want to."

The final button comes loose, breaking away to expose his wonderfully pale chest, remarkably soft for a cowboy. Skin like silk beneath your palms, roaming over the broad expanse of him. Thumbs drifting overtop sensitive, dusky pink nipples on their way to trace up his ticklish sides. He's too sore for his back to arch off the back, but oh, does he try. 

"And this scar, too..." pressing kisses to the prominent, raised skin near the meet of his left shoulder, beneath his collarbone, "I wasn't there to see it, but you've told me the story so many times that I feel like I was."

Now you're working across, tongue trailing until you can lave over the black ink that occupies the right side of his chest. "And this tattoo you got when you were sixteen, using the fake ID that you still carry in your wallet," the lines are no longer crisp, but you wouldn't have it any other way, "You tell me you hate it, but it just goes to show how dedicated you can be when your heart is in it." 

Rhett's breathing shifts, deepening as you work lower; already knows where your mouth is going. 

"Then there are these cute little nipples," spiraling around the little nub with your tongue, right hand working his other one in perfect synchrony. Feeling them roll against your touch, drinking in the whimper that he can't swallow down. "Always so sensitive for me." 

Your assault only stops long enough for you to switch sides, working the right one with the same enthusiasm as the first. A simple thing that has Rhett bracing his hand on your bicep. Needs something to hang onto that isn't the comforter. 

When you pull away, inspecting your handiwork, you're more than pleased to find that pale pink has blossomed into bright red. Just as swollen and wet as his lips. 

Again, you're moving. Never in one place for too long, working your way down his bruised belly. Pressing feather-light kisses to each and every mark that mar his flesh; maybe if you pepper enough to them, they'll heal faster. All the while unclasping his buckle and tugging the zipper down. 

"Can you lift your hips for me?" Hooking your fingers into his waistband as you ask. 

His hips lift, shaky as you pull his jeans and boxers down all in one go; hardly has the strength to let you get the material past his ass. But then you're tugging it down his legs, and he's collapsing against the mattress with a pained grunt. Chest heaving with the effort. 

As soon as those jeans hit the floor, you're pressing your mouth to the inside of his ankle, overtop a darkened bruise; you're not sure how Perry gave him this, and you don't think you want the answer, either. 

Traveling up again, following the dots of four mosquito bites that trail up to his knee, licking the trail of a series of stretch marks that lead you all the way up to his inner thigh. These soft, plush thighs that so few have had the pleasure of seeing. 

"I love these thighs," your words muffled because you can't bring your mouth away from them for more than a second. "They fit so nicely in my hands, perfect to squeeze." He squirms as you suck darkened marks into that pale flesh, soothing them with your tongue. Working your way up to where his cock twitches against his lower belly, needy.

But you've got a few more pit stops to make first.

Namely, these hips. Boney and a little sharp. There's a bruise on his left one, not from Perry, not from the hooves of a bull, but from the edge of your kitchen counter. He's been smacking into it so long that it's become a customary thing. 

"And your hips," gripping them in your hands, feeling them writhe, because he'd rather your tongue trace away from his hip and closer to somewhere else. "I love getting to sneak up behind you and grab them, even when you roll your eyes like you are now."

Rhett freezes at that.

A creature of habit, he is.

"The dimples in your spine, right above your cute ass that you always struggle to get into your jeans," you can't pepper those spots with attention, not right now, but you'll get to another day. For now, you're very happy with tracing your nails up his thighs, watching him wriggle once more. "You're lucky I can't make you roll over, Abbott."

He's quiet as you move over to his arm, paying your attention to the thick muscle that you've drooled over more times than you can count, "I love your biceps, even if you think they're not as big as you want them to be."

"And I love your forearms, so strong, even when they don't need to be," It's trying to move, trying to stroke your shoulder, a little difficult for you to lower your head, but you make it work.  "And this tattoo you impulsively got three days before you met me." The wound there doesn't look as bad now that it's had a day to heal. A perfect slice through the ink that almost looks intentional.

But you're not done, "And these veins..." tongue poking past your lips once more, tracing over them, "so easy to trace and get you riled up."

His knuckles brush against your cheek, lightly stroking. The back of his hand right there for you to nip at, lazily soothing over with your mouth after. "I love these hands of yours, calloused and worn beyond their years," Don't care that you're getting a little carried away as you lick up his fingers.  "Tough enough to hold onto a bull, yet always so gentle when you touch me with them."

As you wonder about what part of him you should lavish with attention next, your eyes flick up.

Oh, that's not what you expected at all. 

His eyes glassy and wide, thin trails of tears shining on his cheeks, mouth opening and closing, wrapping around the shapes of words but unable to voice them. The same word over and over, so familiar...

"And you, Rhett," rising again as you speak, taking his wet cheeks into your hands, warm beneath your touch, "the sweetest cowboy I could have ever met, with the biggest heart I've ever seen." "There aren't enough words in the English language to depict just how much I love you." 

Your name tumbles out of him. Hardly a whisper, voice cracking, wavering. 

That's the only thing he can say as his arms wind around you and pull your body against his, burying his face within the crook of your shoulder. A sob rattles out of him, but it's different compared to the ones you've been hearing as of late. 

"I love you," he murmurs into your collar, vibrating up your neck, "I love you."

You only mean to shift your weight, unintentionally brushing your thigh between his legs and Rhett whines.

As he lays back against the mattress, and your noses press together, peering back into one another's eyes, you reach down. Finally, finally, wrapping your palm around his dripping cock. Hard as can be, the tip glistening in the light as you loosely stroke him. 

"Is that what you were wanting, cowboy?" Your answer comes in the form of him reaching toward the bedside table, getting ahold of the new bottle of lube sitting atop it. So new that you have to stop and remove the plastic from it before you can properly slick him up. 

His hips rise off the bed, needily chasing your touch, the sweet whimper in his throat dancing with the wet sounds of the lube. Always so responsive for you, and you've hardly done anything to him.

"Hah, that..." Rhett's eyes screw shut, head bobbing from side to side, as your thumb polishes over his head, working over the slit and all. "But...you." 

"You don't need to worry about me," on its own, your mind darts to what lurks in the box next to your bed. Plenty of things to play with. "I don't wanna hurt you, remember?"

Rhett's not having it. Bottom lip pouting. "But it feels better when I know you're feelin' good, too," His voice high, breathy, "Please?" 

He could sell you on a one-way ticket to the moon if he really wanted to. 

He must know he's convinced you, too, because he's already pulling your shirt over your head. Hands roaming up your sides, cupping your breasts in his big palms, still wet from your ventures with your tongue. Then go your pants, joining Rhett's on the floor with the quietest noise. 

"Now, what if I really do hurt you?" Your palm runs over his belly, watching how he tenses despite your feather-light touch. So, so sore. Bound to be worse in the morning.

His left-hand trembles as he drizzles lube onto his fingers; it should be resting in his sling like the doctor ordered, but between the walk from the truck to the house, he's wriggled out of it. "Ain't too worried 'bout that." 

"But—"

Wet fingers slip between your folds, lazily pausing to stroke your clit on their way to their destination. "If I can ride a bull, y'sure as hell can ride me." 

Stubborn to the damn end. 

And you want to complain. Never let him hear the end of how you don't want to hurt him. But two of those wicked fingers of his are pushing into you without the slightest warning, and your higher thinking vanishes within an instant. Stolen away by the drag of calloused fingertips, has you shuddering before they've even passed the second knuckle. 

A chuckle bubbles out of Rhett's chest, darkened eyes glinting; he knows what he's doing. Grinning to himself as he begins to those fingers of his in and out of you, eyelashes fluttering when you clench around them. 

Your attention darts to his neglected cock, laying haphazardly against his belly, precum spilling out of his tip like a leaky faucet. Perfect to reach for and torment, sliding your thumb over his cock head, spreading it around him. 

Rhett's hips jerk, a breath bursting out of him, "St—hah, stop that." 

One little touch, and he's twitching in your hand. It's only been a week since the last time. Is he that sensitive already?

Those fingers of his twist, cooking to drive against something that has your thighs quivering, letting go of his cock to brace yourself against the bed. Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

"Alright," reaching down, you take hold of his wrist and pull him out of you. Disappointed by the loss of his fingers, even though you know you'll get something better in just a moment. "But just remember, this was your idea." 

"I know it," Rhett's good hand rises to settle on your hip as you move to straddle him. Contentedly rubbing the skin there as you take hold of him once more, guiding his leaking tip between your folds. 

And who's to stop you from lazily rubbing him against your clit, gentle spirals that makes your fingertips tingle. It's hard telling if Rhett moans first or if it's you all along, gasping together like it's all you know how to do. 

"Fuck," muttering under his breath, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes. "That's...different..." 

Your hand twitches. Pulls him back far enough to catch on your entrance. Ends your fun too soon, but the delicious pressure of him against you is too good to miss. With a shaky breath, you sink down on him, eyes falling shut at the stretch of him. 

Rhett's panting like a dog beneath you, the hand on your hip growing loose as you slowly but surely take him. God, he's so thick, and it's not fair. Stretching you wide, his plush head dragging against the walls of your cunt. So hard to relax when he seems to fill you completely, bordering the line between a perfect fit and a little too much.

His hip bones press into your ass as you bottom out. Your chest heaving, heart pounding in your chest. Think you can feel him throbbing inside of you, subtle little pulses of his cock that make you jolt. 

"Are you alright?" You ask. Struggling to open your eyes.

Rhett's hand rises, smoothing up your waist and settling on your breast, pressing his palm against it. "Think I outta be askin' you that, darlin'." 

You're more than alright. 

Carefully, you lean forward, bracing one hand on the mattress, the other on his heaving chest, steering clear of his bruises. On its own, your thumb flicks over his nipple, gasping when he jolts up into you. 

"Y'gotta leave those alone," he fusses, but he doesn't stop you from craning your neck to suck on one of them. Worrying the hardening bud between your teeth, listening to him whine at the attention, only letting go once it's begun to swell once more. 

 Before he can open his mouth again, you begin to move. 

Raising yourself up, feeling him twitch inside of you, then sinking right back down. Starting shallow, for his sake more than your own. Breathing out a silent noise as you feel him move inside of you, thick length massaging against a particular bundle of nerves within you, without the slightest effort. 

"Fuck, fuck, you're tight," he whimpers, eyes barely open as he peers up at you, hair spread out beneath his head in a messy halo. "Baby, baby..."

"Is that what you were needing, cowboy?" Teasing, not bothering to fight the noises he's working out of you. Feeling those devilish hips swivel. The best he can do. 

And those lewd little noises are spilling out of him like a waterfall. Whimpers carried to your ears by his short, quickened breaths, "uhuh." 

Drawing yourself up quicker now, settling into a comfortable rhythm that lets you feel the drag of his cock head inside of your pussy. Filling you impossibly well, so deep that you're not sure how he fits. 

"Can feel you flutterin' round me," his voice gravelly, absolutely hypnotized by the way your body moves on top of him. Even that shaky left hand is rising, settling on your thigh, needs to feel your muscles flex with your motions. 

On your own, you clamp down around him; almost regret it because the noise he makes sends something stirring to life within you. Warm. Familiar.

"Again," Rhett babbles, head rolling side to side, "please—please, do that again."

 Your thighs are beginning to ache, forces your pace to fall into something shallower as you squeeze down around him once more. Oh, oh, oh, how he jerks up into you at that. Rips a surprised cry out of you as his hips come off the mattress, slamming into you.

"Fuck, Rhett," your eyes bursting open; don't remember closing them. 

"'M already close," his voice an octave higher, words punctuated by the smack of skin on skin. Biting on his lips, trying to swallow down those noises you're working out of him.

Your hand trembles as it rises to pull his lip free of his teeth, replacing it with your thumb. That short, hot tongue swirls around on it, lazily sucking on it, eyes falling shut. So, so focused. "You gonna cum for me, cowboy?" 

He can't speak, too busy with your finger, can only nod and hum. It's easy, pressing down on his tongue, pinning it down if only to feel it writhe. 

"Come on, sweet boy," you're cooing, urging him on, fighting to keep yourself going. He's already twitching in you. Little jerks of his cock that always bubble to the surface when he's close. "Cum." 

Those pretty blue eyes roll back into his head. And with the quitest sob, he cums. 

Muscles flexing as he jolts up into you, back arching despite it all, the hand on your thigh squeezing tight. A familiar heat fills you. Ropes of sticky, hot cum, pumping inside, already beginning to spill out as you ride him through it. Gradually slowing, pulling your thumb from his slackened mouth, watching him spin back down from the clouds. 

"Keep," he's interrupted by a desperate gasp for air. "Keep goin'."

Well, that's new. "Are you sure?" Because you can already feel him beginning to soften inside of you, spent. 

"Wanna feel you cum 'round me," pleading like his life depends on it, voice gone raspy, "Please, please, please."

Something about the way he says it stirs something to life within you. Ache in your thighs seeming to disappear as you begin to move once more, too distracted by the way he reaches down, pressing rough fingers to your sensitive clit. Regaining your rhythm once more, dizzied by the delicious thickness of him inside of you. Sickeningly loud squelch be damned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," babbling under his breath, Rhett's fighting to keep his eyes open. Hungry gaze eating up the sight of you, using him for your own pleasure.

"Good boy," leaning back, savoring how he's twitching in your pussy, already beginning to harden once more, "hang on for me." 

And Rhett's shaking. His muscles tremoring as heat blooms between your legs, thumb struggling to spiral around your swollen clit, shaking too damn hard to stay steady. Downright vibrating. His thighs spasm beneath you, whimpering high in his throat, and he sounds so, so pretty like that. Looks it too.

Just the sight of him has you clenching around him like a vice, head beginning to spin. Rhythm faltering as you all but chase the heat starting to spread between your legs, spurred on by his trembling thumb and the drag of his plush head against the inside of you. Skin prickling. Close, close, close. 

His hips jolt up on their own. Once. Twice. And you're gone. 

A silent noise stumbling out of you as your eyes screw shut. Body freezing. Pulsing around him as your orgasm washes over you like a ton of bricks. Distantly aware that you're falling forward. Head coming to rest against his collar. Stars dancing beneath your eyelids. A dull tingling in your limbs. 

Rhett's hips jolt one more time. Short. Jerky. And you're distantly aware that he's cumming again. 

You wonder if this is how it feels to take a hard fall off a bull. A brief blankness in memory, followed by the slow opening of eyes. Barely able to recall where you are before the ache in your thighs comes knocking at the door. 

"Don't..." Rhett whispers, lips tickling your ear, "Don't move...just for a minute."

You're glad that he asked because you don't think you can move. "Can I convince you on a bath and a movie?" Because if you two stay on this bed for too long, you'll have to rewash this comforter. 

"Will you get in with me?" And if you thought his lips tickled, then his hot breath is a different monster entirely. 

"Of course, I will," pressing a kiss to his collar before finishing your sentence. "Whatever you want, cowboy." And it seems you may have left him a few hickeys because you don't recall him having bruises here. 

"Whatever I want?" And you can hear the cocky grin in his voice. 

God, why did you ever tell him that? "...that's what I said."

He seems to think for a minute. Looking for something that will truly test your resolve, simply to see if you're true to your word. "Then d'you think you can put that sling back on me after?" How dare he sound so shy, with his softening dick still in you. "Shits startin' to hurt." 

"Where did you put it?"

"I haven't the slightest clue."

How you wind up finding it hanging off the top of the refrigerator is anyone's guess.

Thunk.

"Shit!" Rhett's voice echoes from the kitchen; you don't need to think to know what just happened. "Fuck this fucking—I'm not gonna miss this damn counter!" 

The landlord is gonna shave some funds off your deposit for the dent your poor cowboy has put into that tabletop. That you know for sure.

"Consider it a parting gift," you chirp, scooping up the last of your boxes. Picture frames, delicately wrapped in old newspaper and towels. 

When you'd moved into this house, you had a grand total of ten boxes. Hardly anything to your name, other than essentials you'd scrapped up from yard sales and big box store sales. Just little old you in a big house that's seen more life than you could have ever hoped to live

But now, as you finally, finally move out of this century-old place, you've got more boxes than you can count. Cookware, throw pillows, knick-knacks brought to you by a cowboy who didn't know how to court you. Stacks of DVDs and CDs, a stuffed bull bought at a rodeo, plaid curtains and blankets, memories galore. 

Rhett's lingering by the door. Big hands reaching out to take the box from you; it's not heavy, but you've given up on bickering about who can carry what. 

His gaze is heavy, falling to focus on the box. Index finger tapping on the cardboard, in its own uneasy tune. 

"You alright?" You chirp, surprised by how your voice carries in this house now that it's completely empty.

His boot taps the ground. If you were outside, he'd be kicking the dirt. "Are you really sure you want a home with me in it?" 

The hardwood squeaks beneath your feet as you step forward, crouching to catch his eye. They lock with yours, following as you rise once more. "I can't imagine a house without you in it, cowboy," licking the pad of your thumb, wiping away a streak of dirt from his cheek. "Even if you do try to distract me with kisses, so you can steal cookie dough off the tray."

His gaze falls again. The tips of his ears go red, smiling to himself like it's your first date all over again. 

 Your hands squish his cheeks. They've gotten a touch thicker now that he's exchanged bull riding for lazy nights on the couch with you. And they're perfect. "What are you?" 

His eyelashes flutter. Mouth opening, then closing, only to open again. "Worth it." And then he's twisting his head to bite your thumb and darting out the open door. Tripping over his own feet as you come after him. Giggling, yelling his futile, I'm sorry's, despite provoking this all on his own.

Yeah, you're glad you picked this cowboy. 

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert #afab reader #tw blood #tw injury #tw mention of violence #tw mention of attempted murder #tw food

[buryitfar]

tw: blood

mistake

#murder drones #murder drones art #murder drones cyn #md cyn #rendering attempt #tw eyestrain #tw blood

[hoshiumiumi]

adam's apple is based on the superstitious belief that when adam ate the forbidden fruit, the apple was stuck to his throat as a reminder from god the sin he had committed.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd nikolai gogol #fyolai #2023 art #tw blood #trying to eat the forbidden fruit thru ur husbands throat nice #i couldnt decide if i liked the sketch better or lineart bc fyo looked nice in the lineart but nik looked nice in the sketch so take all <3 #religious imagery (fyodor) mixed with vampires (canon) and attempted murder (nikolai)... truly peak fyolai #pls dont bite ur lovers adams apple i heard u could choke easily from that #dont do anything fyolai does tbh