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throwaway-yandere · 9 months

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What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.'

"Y-You're good, aren't you?"

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right.

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau… that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin.

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now.

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you?

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust.

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands.

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains.

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe.

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch.

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living."

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth.

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion.

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,”

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–"

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral.

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes.

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so.

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed.

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley.

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did?

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.”

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run."

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”.

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered.

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps.

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth.

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you.

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...”

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself.

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone.

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human.

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened.

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster.

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead.

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful.

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you.

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room.

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███,

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you.

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down.

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!”

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?”

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice.

You get it now.

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening.

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

213 notes · View notes

skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Flowers

Jeongin x Thick female reader

Word count: 4.2K

Synopsis: An unexpected visitor from your past knocking at your door holding flowers shouldn't be as terrifying as it is for you.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! This is based loosely on the song Flowers by Lauren Spencer Smith. This is one is more intense than the others for sure so proceed with caution and read all warnings throughly. I would hate for someone to read something that upset them or made them uncomfortable! Only one more to go after this! If you enjoy this story please reblog, like, comment, jump into my asks, all your feedback has made me so happy! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, domestic abuse is a big part of this story (if that can be triggering please skip this one), mentions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse (not Jeongin, an ex), gas lighting, violence/death threats/threats of bodily harm (stabbing, again if ANY of this is triggering I understand you passing on this one!), unprotected piv sex (please use condoms!), cream pie, pet names (jagi, angel, beautiful etc.) I think that's everything but if I missed something (which I sincerely hope I did not) please let me know and I will add it IMMEDIATELY!

You were finishing the last of your dinner dishes when there was a knock at your door. It was strange, you weren’t expecting anyone but that didn’t mean one of your boyfriend’s seven best friends didn’t just swing by while in the neighborhood. You started to dry off your hands when Jeongin called to you from the back of the apartment you shared.

“Baby can you get that? I’m already naked about to get in the shower!” You made your way through the living room towards the door.

“Yea I’ll get it Innie! You know it’s, at minimum, one of the guys so try not to take your hour shower please. I can only entertain them so long before they get bored and start causing trouble.” You could hear Jeongin laughing as the shower started, very familiar with his friends’ antics. You were rolling your eyes laughing when you answered the door, expecting two or more boisterous men.

“If you can’t behav-” You looked up and choked on your words. Your eyes were wide and your heart started racing, you felt like you might throw up. So many memories and feelings came rushing back to you, things you wanted to forget. The very last person you expected to find knocking on your door at that time of night was your abusive ex-boyfriend Casey, flowers in hand. Your hands were shaking, and so was your voice.

“W-what the fuck are you doing here?!” You were absolutely terrified but did your best not to sound it. How had he even found you? Casey rolled his eyes.

“Geeze it’s nice to see you to y/n.” You had to have had the biggest ‘what the fuck’ look on your face.

“NICE?! Seeing you is nice Casey?! I shouldn’t be seeing you at all, you’re not supposed to have my address, or have you forgotten about the protective order?!” He shook his head putting his free hand up trying to calm you down.

“That thing expired six months ago baby.” You cringed and closed your eyes cursing yourself for forgetting about the court date to extend the order.

“DON’T call me baby. I am not your baby.” He ignored your indignant tone.

“It took me a while to find you but I finally did!” He held out the flowers that were in his other hand.

“What. Are. You doing here?” You asked again looking down at the flowers in his hand and then back at him, refusing to take them

“I’m here to say I’m sorry baby and to beg you to take me back.” He made a face, that face, the one he’d give you when he knew you were going to forgive whatever horrible thing he’d done to you.

“I told you not to call me that.” You pointed at the bouquet in his hand.

“Flowers? Very typical for you. You always used flowers for big apologies thinking it fixed the problem.” He put his arm down.

“I know you’re mad...” You scoffed.

“Mad? Casey there is a spectrum of feelings I’m having right now and mad is just one of them. Why the hell would I take you back after everything you did to me?!” He gave you a little half smile and tried to grab your hand to hold. You yanked it back quickly looking at him like he was insane, because he was.

“Not all of it was bad. We were gonna get married one day.” You shook your head.

“No you introduced me to your family saying that you’d marry me and then you’d look at me and say it was just a joke. I would get so excited hoping one day you would mean it but you only made me make a fool of myself.” He took a step closer to you and you took one back, still blocking your doorway.

“Ba-” You glared.

“y/n... Come on. Neither one of us were perfect.” You shook your head.

“You wanted perfect, thin, blonde, submissive. I couldn’t give you perfect no matter how hard I tried, no matter the trips to the salon, the diets, the gym memberships, I tried to give you what you wanted and couldn’t and so you took it out on me any way you could. I hated myself for a long time for justifying your mistakes. Maybe I was holding on to what I thought you were, but when you think too hard eventually it starts to hurt. Now I know the version in my head wasn’t true. It took a minute but I learned that shit the hard way by having my heart broken again and again by you.” He started to get more frustrated with you.

“You left me! You can’t be heartbroken if you’re the one that left!” You looked at him incredulously.

“Who are you to tell me I can’t be heartbroken?! So much came before me leaving Casey, you had the chance, the door for you was wide open for a long time. You gaslit me, cheated on me blaming it on my weight, you called me horrible names, you verbally, emotionally, and physically abused me! Any of this ringing a bell Casey?!” He shook his head no disagreeing.

“No no no you would start a fight and then you’d get all teary eyed when I fought back and I’d get so fucking angry...” You put your hand up stopping him, he was getting more and more worked up and he was starting to scare you.

“Stop please. Expressing my feelings is not ‘starting a fight’. I should have been more conscious of how you spoke to me, if there’s anything I learned it’s to watch myself and if something’s hurting me to leave and go and get some help. I should have done it so much sooner than I did but young people fall for the wrong people and I guess my one was you.” Jeongin startled you when he walked up behind you suddenly. He kissed the side of your head and wrapped his arm around you. He was still a little flushed and damp from the shower, wearing only his gray sweats since the two of you were going to bed soon. Casey’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Jeongin.

“Hey jagiya, who’s this?” Jeongin asked.

“Her boyfriend!” Casey blurted out before you could answer. Jeongin’s brows furrowed.

“What?” You chimed in quickly.

“EX! Boyfriend.” Jeongin suddenly realized just who he was. You’d told him about your abusive ex before you moved in together, so that he knew what he was getting himself into with you.

“Don’t you have a restraining order on him?!” You shook your head.

“I missed a court date so they didn’t extend it.” Casey was nodding.

“Yea we’re working on things...” Jeongin got in front of you slightly. This guy was clearly out of his god damn mind.

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead and pretend I haven’t found a man that treats me right.” Finally Casey had enough and blew up.

“YOU STUPID FAT BITCH! YOU NEED ME! YOUR NOTHING WITHOUT ME! A COW! A GIGANTIC! FAT! WHORE!” He didn’t make a move towards you, he wouldn’t dare with Jeongin standing there so he screamed insults and profanity at you as loud as he could. Jeongin held out his arm guiding you to take a couple steps back and he stepped out of the door frame and closed it, immediately locking it. Casey started beating against it with his fists hard.

“FUCKING WHORE, DUMB FAT CUNT, I’M GONNA BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN AND BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Your eyes were wide and you were trembling, terrified just like it had always been when you were with him.

“Go sit on the couch jagiya I’m gonna call the cops.” You shook your head frantically, gripping Jeongin tightly.

“Please! Don’t make me go! I want to stay near you! I’m scared Innie!” Jeongin wrapped his arms around you, hugging you.

“Shhh... it’s okay jagi you can stay, stay right here okay? You’re safe, I’m gonna keep you safe I promise!” Casey was still losing his mind on the other side of the door and it sounded like he was going to break it down.

“DUMB FAT SLUT! I'M GONNA KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!” He kicked at the door making it shake even more aggressively making you jump in fear with every hit. Jeongin was already on the phone with emergency services explaining what was going on.

“I’M GONNA GET IN THERE JUST YOU WAIT! I'M GONNA COME IN THERE BABY AND I’M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR NEW LITTLE BOYFRIEND!” Suddenly you and Jeongin saw the blade of a knife through the gap in the door as he tried to unlatch the lock with it.

“Yeah!? Can they hurry the fuck up please he’s fucking nuts and he has a knife.” Jeongin told the dispatcher. The blade disappeared and then you heard metal hitting your door, over and over while he still screamed.

“I’M GONNA STAB YOU BITCH! CUT YOUR FAT ASS OPEN! FUCKING! KILL! YOU!” The ding of the elevator signaled someone stopping on your floor. It got deathly quiet and then you heard low voices.

“Oh hi officer!” The cop looked at your door and the man with the knife in his hand.

“Drop the knife now!” The officer had his hand on his holstered gun. Casey dropped the knife immediately. The cop walked over kicking it further away.

“Your ID.” Casey pulled out his wallet and handed his driver’s license to the cop who looked it over.

“Mr... Jones we’re here because we got a call about a man brandishing a knife making death threats to the couple in this apartment.

“Threats? Oh no sir, I just got locked out of my girlfriend’s apartment and I'm trying to get back in.” The cop was not buying it, even the worst detective could tell something here was very wrong.

“You planning on stabbing through the door to get in Mr. Jones?” Casey looked at the knife on the floor.

“Oh that? I was cooking dinner when I got locked out.” The cop nodded and hummed.

“Mmhm I’m sure you were. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to step over to the end of the hall with my partner for a moment while I speak to whomever is in the apartment.” Casey did as the officer asked and then turned back quickly.

“We were having a bit of a fight so she’s probably mad at me...” The cop nodded.

“Over with my partner Mr. Jones” He listened and went over by the officer’s partner. The cop that had initially been questioning Casey knocked on your apartment door.

“This is officer Roe I’m here with my partner officer Wade, we were called about a man with a knife making death threats. If you could, will you please open the door so that I can speak with you?” You and Jeongin were on the other side of the door, you were shaking like a leaf.

“Is he away from the door?” Jeongin asked not willing to take even the slightest chance of you getting hurt.

“Yes sir he’s being detained by my partner up the hall a ways. The knife has been dropped. It’s safe, I assure you.” When Jeongin heard the knife was down he unlocked and opened the door. When he did you gasped and started tearing up.

The flowers Casey had brought as an ‘I’m sorry’ looked like they’d exploded, flower petals and broken stems littering the floor. While that was alarming, seeing the door was outright terrifying. Big gash marks from the knife being stabbed into the door repeatedly. You shuddered and Jeongin wrapped his arms around you trying to comfort you, trying to make sure you knew you were safe, that he’d do anything to keep you safe. The officer questioned you both together not wanting to further your distress by separating you from Jeongin. You did all the talking anyway. You explained to the officer about Casey and his abusive past, the protective order that ended. The further into the story you got the more worked up you were.

“And and and then he started screaming, just screaming horrible things at the top of his lungs and and he he s-sa-said he was g-gonna kill me he’s gonna kill me!” You started to hyperventilate, sobbing.

“Jagiya look at me yea? Look in my eyes. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Slow deep breaths come on count it out to ground yourself jagi. One...two...three...” You had delt with a lot of shit and Jeongin was always there to help you through. He started taking slow breaths in and out while he counted with you. Your breathing returned to normal and you were able to finish answering the rest of the police officer’s questions.

“Thank you Ms. Y/l/n. Mr. Jones will be placed under arrest tonight for attempted assault with a deadly weapon, and a slew of other things. We’ll definitely be in contact with you to make sure your testimony is on the record. Mr. Yang, Ms. y/l/n, I hope you can try and enjoy the rest of your evening.” Jeongin held out his hand and the officer shook it.

“Thank you sir, we’ll sleep better tonight knowing he’ll be in jail.” The officer nodded and headed down the hall towards his partner and Casey.

“Mr. Jones do you have any other weapons, drugs, or anything else on you?” Casey shook his head no.

“Turn around and put you hands behind your back...” When he realized he was getting arrested he exploded all over again. Like a switch being flipped. He had been calm as can be two seconds before.

“YOU DUMB FUCKING COW! WHAT DID YOU SAY?! WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM? YOU STUPID FAT WHO-” Jeongin shut the door and locked it stifling the screaming. Once the police and Casey were in the elevator everything was quiet again. You stood there across from the front door gob smacked, Jeongin leaned against the door trying to will his heart to slow down, the adrenaline dissipating. He looked up at you standing there shivering as if you were standing in the snow. When your eyes met Jeongin’s you burst out into tears. He quickly took you into his arms and held you while you sobbed. Once you were calmer, only sniffling and hiccupping a little, Jeongin softly spoke.

“Let’s get you in the shower and into bed jagiya.” You nodded against his chest. Jeongin led you to the bathroom and started running the shower for you.

“Come here angel.” You walked over and Jeongin started to pull the hem of your shirt up and off you. He kissed your cheek as soon as you were freed from the fabric. He gave you a tight hug and then unhooked your bra tossing it aside with your shirt. Jeongin unbuttoned your jeans and drug the zipper down. He pushed your pants and underwear down to your knees.

“Have a seat on the edge of the tub for me jagi.” You sat down and Jeongin lifted one leg pulling the pant leg off, gently setting it back down, then grabbed your other leg completely removing your jeans and panties. He helped you to stand then grabbed one of your hair clips. He stood behind you and pulled your hair back into somewhat of a ponytail and twisted it up before securing your clip in your hair. When he had you all ready for your shower you turned and hugged him tightly, your soft body pressed against his.

“I love you so much Innie.” You started to get teary again. He ran his hands up and down your back soothing you.

“I love you too y/n, so much.” When you finally let go Jeongin pulled the shower curtain back so you could climb in.

“I’m gonna grab your robe and a towel and I’ll be right back angel.” You started washing up as Jeongin went to grab your things. The stress and adrenaline had you stiff and sore so the hot water beating down on you felt so good, relaxing you and you started to get drowsy. Jeongin tapped on the door before coming back in so he didn’t startle you.

“Need more time?” You hummed, so tired now.

“Hmm-no I think I'm done Innie.” You shut off the water and opened the shower curtain to find Jeongin standing there with a big towel spread out in his arms waiting for you.

“Come here jagiya.” You walked into his arms and he wrapped the towel around you, squeezing you and then started drying you off. When you weren’t drippy anymore Jeongin tossed the towel and picked up the robe he’d grabbed for you, helping you put it on. He gently gripped your shoulders and kissed the side of your head.

“Let’s get to bed my love.” Jeongin led you to your room and pulled back the duvet on your bed.

“Go on crawl in get cozy.” You gave him a weak smile, shedding your robe and climbing into bed. Jeongin pulled the comforter over you and tucked you in a little, pecking your lips. After getting you tucked in he walked around to his side of the bed dropped his sweat pants and also climbed into bed under the covers. His hands instantly found your cushy body and pulled you close to him so that he could spoon you. You felt so safe and warm now. You let out a deep breath and Jeongin squeezed you tighter.

“Try to get some sleep now jagiya.” You nodded and could feel your eyes getting heavy quickly.

“I love you Jeongin.” He took a deep breath in and melted into you more.

“I love you too y/n, more than I love myself. I always will.” You turned in his arms and nuzzled up into his chest, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep, Jeongin dozing off not long after you.

You woke up in the middle of the night with your ex’s screams echoing in your head. Jeongin had rolled over onto his other side after falling asleep, his broad back to you now. Your eyes started filling with tears. You had no control over it, the harder you tried to stop it the more they came, you just tried to keep quiet so that you didn’t wake Jeongin. As if you could control that either. You sniffled and wimpered and took a deep shuddering breath. Jeongin started to stir and turned over, squinting his sleepy fox like eyes trying to see you.

“Jagiya? Jagi?” You couldn’t get it together enough to speak instead you choked and started bawling.

“Hey hey! Come here my love, come here.” Jeongin pulled you close to him again, your head tucked under his chin resting against his chest. Once his strong arms were around you, your tears started to subside and then you stopped crying all together. Jeongin’s embrace, his touch was all that you needed. It was like you could feel all his love for you vibrating from his body into yours and it made you feel warm all over. You placed a chaste kiss against his chest and he took a satisfied breath, feeling your lips on his skin. You braced your hands against his torso and pressed another kiss to his chest, then another, and another as you started to travel up his neck. The breath Jeongin let out this time was deeper.

“Jagi... we don’t have t-” You cut him off, peppering more kisses across his jaw and then you softly kissed his lips.

“I know we don’t have to Innie, but I want to. I don’t want to feel scared anymore. I want to feel love, love me Jeongin... please.” He held your face in one hand and kissed you deeply.

“I’ll love you y/n, I’ll love you.” Jeongin rolled over on top of you, his arms caging you in under him. He kissed your forehead, your cheek, your nose and then your lips again. Claiming them, your cupid’s bow between Jeongin’s lips. His tongue slowly slid into your mouth, teasing, tasting, in no rush. He propped himself on one hand and reached down to trace his fingers through your folds. He started slowly circling around your clit and you took in a sharp breath. He shooshed you his lips still pushed against yours.

“Shh shh jagiya, I’ve got you.” His fingers slid back towards your entrance gathering your arousal, then rubbing your clit again, your slick precum aiding his movements. He started teasing your bundle of nerves faster and your breathing picked up as well.

“I-Innie... feels so good... don’t stop...” He continued circling his wet fingers around your clit kissing down your neck and across your collarbone.

“I won’t stop my love, let go for me, let me take you there...” His two fingers teased you faster rubbing back and forth and you came, softly panting out Jeongin’s name.

“Je-Jeongin Jeongin uh uh mmm I’m coming.” Your words were whispered against his lips and he kissed you as he worked you through your orgasm.

“Beautiful, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum for me like that. My beautiful angel.” When you could finally open your eyes again you saw Jeongin’s brown eyes staring back at you with a softness in them you’d never seen in anyone's eyes until you met him. He was propped over you on two hands again.

You reached down between you and grabbed his cock lining it up with your wet hole and pushed his tip inside you. Jeongin let out a soft moan, then put his weight on his elbows pressing your bodies together as he pushed into your plump pussy deeper. When he bottomed out inside you his tip brushed that little spot that made your whole body buzz and you moaned his name breathless.

“Innie... more...” He pulled out and pushed into you slow but deep.

“You want more jagiya? Hmm?” You nodded

“God yes, please Innie... m-more...” He pulled out and thrusted harder, just as deep then started a steady rhythm. One of his hands cupped your face and he kissed you as he kept pumping in and out, you were so wet for him, felt so good.

“You’re taking me so well beautiful, so well, do I make you feel good jagi?” You nodded looking into his eyes as Jeongin continued to make love to you.

“S-so s-so good Innie. Harder please fuck me harder.” Jeongin started snapping his hips into you harder, your bodies rubbing together, hands gripping, groping, massaging each other, no way to tell where one body stopped and the other started. Slow, deep and hard, that’s how Jeongin fucked you for what seemed like forever. Your orgasm crept up and washed over you like waves on the shore.

“huhuhuJeonginahuhuh...” You were panting his name out as he kept his pace up, reaching for his orgasm and extending yours.

“I’m gonna cum angel... fuck I’m gonna cum...” You nodded still breathless as your orgasm disappated. Jeongin pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed tightly as he continued to thrust into you deeply. He whispered.

“Can I cum inside you jagiya?” You nodded against his head biting your bottom lip. He forced his eyes open looking you deep in yours as his climax approached. You cupped his face and kissed him.

“Cum inside me Jeongin. Please, please cum inside me.” His head still rested against yours both of you panting, breathing in the others moans of pleasure, sharing the same air. The strangled moan Jeongin made as he looked into your eyes and came set your body on fire. You could feel his warm seed filling you as he pumped and twitched inside your cunt refusing to close his eyes, refusing to miss a second of your gorgeous face taking his cum.

“F-fuck fuck oh god y/n jagi... mmmm I’m coming. Do you feel me angel? Hmm? That’s my love.” Jeongin continued thrusting into you deep filling you with his cum while your pussy quivered around him at his words. He kept pumping you full.

“I love you...” He thrusted and kissed you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Every time punctuated by another deep thrust and kiss. Jeongin laid on top of you propped up looking down at you as his cock twitched one last time and he started to go soft inside you. He laid down on you completely wrapping his arms around your thick body, resting his head on your big soft breasts. He took a deep breath as he listened to your heartbeat return to normal. You wrapped your arms around him and twirled a piece of his hair, both of you basking in the after glow of your love making.

After a bit he propped himself over you again and cupped your cheek stroking it tenderly, he leaned down and pecked your lips sweetly and then he was looking at you like that again, that soft look as he caressed your face.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice05280 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97

“Marry me.”

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #i.n. smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#skz317cb97 thick reader series pt 2 #skz317cb97 thick reader series #tw: domestic abuse #tw: violence #SoundCloud

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aurumacadicus · 1 year

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Crime writer Tony actual assassin bucky,

I am so bad at crime rest in pieces Tony lmao.

Tony sort of... falls into writing accidentally. Rhodey joins a book club in college and Tony joins with him because he's codependent and after the first three books, they read a frankly abysmal adaption of the Black Dahlia murder. Unfortunately, Tony is the best at working out of spite, so as soon as 'man, even I could write a better and more respectful novel than this,' it just sort of... happens. Rhodey is the first person he shows, nervous and antsy. Rhodey has the best poker face Tony's ever seen, even better than Howard and Obie's. He had no idea what Rhodey thinks of it. Finally, Rhodey looks up at him, and he says, "This was really good, but it could be better. I'm giving it to the book club." Tony wails in dismay because he's a perfectionist when it comes to showing things off, but Rhodey drags him to book club kicking and screaming, because they're mostly English majors and they'll have more insight than he does. The book club rips it to shreds, but they tell him exactly why, and his second draft barely has any red marks on it at all when they read it. While Tony's in college, he publishes his novels under a pen name, and his book club are his editors. Once he graduates, he starts publishing under his own name, with part of the proceeds going into two non-profits--a book club and a writers workshop for underprivileged youth.

Bucky's descent into serial killing is not an accident at all. One of his sisters is beaten almost to death by her boyfriend, and when the guy only gets a slap on the wrist by the courts because it's his first offense, Bucky makes him disappear. The only other person who knows is Steve, mostly because they're so close he would have found out anyway. Luckily, the most Steve ever says about it is, "Don't tell me anything. I'm a bad liar." He figures part of it is because Steve had been with him when they'd found his sister bleeding and unconscious on her apartment floor. He'd seen Steve's jaw clench at the hearing when the guy was let off on probation. His rage that the system was failing someone who had almost been murdered by an intimate partner. Steve had decided to throw himself into getting laws changed, harsher sentences. It was slow going. It was probably the only reason he turned a blind eye when Bucky decided to take a more... hands on approach.

Tony and Bucky, miraculously, meet when Bucky sneaks into his apartment. Or, well, "meet." Tiberius had just been let off assault charges simply because he was rich, and Tony hadn't gotten a chance to change the locks because he was in the hospital recovering from being strangled. Bucky had meant to sneak in and kill Tiberius while Tony was still at the hospital, so he'd have an alibi. But apparently Tony had signed out of the hospital against medical advice to avoid the press, and Bucky had snuck into his apartment to find Tiberius backhanding him to the ground. So he simply stepped further into the apartment and snapped Tiberius's neck. Clean. Efficient. Fast enough that Tony, dazed and bleeding from a head wound again, wouldn't realize it. "Let's get you cleaned up," Bucky says gently, helping Tony to his feet. "But Tiberius--" Tony starts, lip bleeding as well. "He's sleeping," Bucky assures him, and helps Tony to the bathroom to clean him up. Calls a friend to come sit with him because he's adamant he's not going to the hospital. Gets him tucked onto the couch with a milkshake and an old sci-fi movie in the background. Grabs Tiberius by the scruff to drag him out. "So dinner? Tomorrow? With me?" Tony slurs, blinking doe eyes at him. "Sure," Bucky agrees, good-natured, and expects to never see him again.

"So," Tony says, tablet and stylus in hand. "What's the easiest way to kill somebody." "We are at my job," Bucky complains immediately, grabbing him by the arm to drag him over to the antique book section. "How did you find me?" "I'm Tony Stark," Tony says, and then, "Also I follow Steve on Instagram and there are pictures of you with him. I asked where you worked and he's a bad liar." "He really isn't, he just panics," Bucky says. He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, and does not mention that the way Tony is checking out his biceps are not subtle. "Why do you follow Steve?" "I like the work he's doing to get more stringent laws for domestic violence," Tony tells him seriously, and Bucky throws his hands up in frustration. "Anyway. Do you wanna go get lunch?" "You watched me k--" Bucky begins, outraged, then swallows it back and takes a deep breath. He glances around to make sure they're still alone, then whispers, "You watched me kill your ex-boyfriend." "He was going to kill me," Tony says, shrugging. "The bar is on the floor." "Jesus Christ," Bucky moans, dragging his hands down his face.

Tony has the self-preservation of a gnat and keeps inviting Bucky out. Bucky is absolutely appalled. He's dangerous. Tony has seen him kill somebody. And he still wants to have dinner? "And raunchy sex that makes me blush when I remember it maybe," Tony offers, shrugging. "Tiberius didn't usually even get me to come." Somehow Bucky is not surprised and yet still incredibly offended on Tony's behalf. "Well, I'm pretty good in bed," he says mulishly, because it's not fair that Tony hasn't had a partner that cared about his pleasure in bed recently. And then somehow he gets locked down into a long-term relationship. He is absolutely stunned. "Tony's like that," Steve tells him, and then, "Actually I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner. Please tell Tony to stop telling me how good you are in bed." "You tell Tony to stop asking me to show him how to kill people for his books," Bucky retorts, and then they both stare at each other, stone faced, as they realize oh. So this is just what Tony's like then.

Bonus: Tony goes back to his old pen name so he can write self-published raunchy romance novels of a writer and his serial killer boyfriend. Bucky is mortified but also aroused. Tony coyly asks him what he'd do in the killer character's position in the bedroom and Bucky is FURIOUS that it gets him horny. It doesn't stop him from showing Tony, though.

#aurumacadicus answers #ask meme #5 headcanons meme #winteriron #tw: domestic violence #tw: domestic abuse #not between tony and bucky tho

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takaraphoenix · 4 months

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I think—and this is a take that I’ve seen going around a lot—that people think abusive relationships only look one way? And that victims can only look and act one way if they’ve actually been abused. We don’t see that much of the dynamic with Gabe at home, for sure, but what we do see is cruelty and veiled threats to Percy, invasion of Sally’s privacy, and Sally having learned how to manage Gabe so he doesn’t restrict her movement with the very real threat of withholding the car. I get where you’re coming from, and I don’t know if or how they’re going to change the ending, but I think that it’s important to not just show abuse as the like, cartoonish evil that people think it always must be.

I think you've already missed the point by generalizing it into "abusive relationships only look one way".

THIS ONE DOES. Because it is an established one. This particular abusive relationship had ONE WAY that it looked like. In the canon of the books.

We aren't talking about the broader sense of what can or may happen, but the very deliberate choice in which they chose to change what this particular relationship looked like, and the way the perception of it changes by how they chose to change what to convey.

And, again, the end, you prove to have missed the point, I'm afraid. Sure, it's important to show a variety of what abuse can look like - in a variety of media. But if you take one story, and the way that one story was told, and then change it, that's... something different.

Absolutely nothing about Sally or Percy's behavior as of the show canon so far even indicates that this man poses a threat to either of them. Whereas the book very much did convey Gabe as a threat.

If you had not read the book, I doubt you'd look at this man as anything more than half of a loveless marriage. Because the show's not setting the same kind of dynamic up that the book did.

And the link you sent me in the second ask? That tweet doesn't say much. He's clearly not controlling her movement with the car, considering she got to take the car for a completely random weekend getaway without literally any problems, all she had to do was say she's gonna bring him a sandwich?? That scene was in no way or shape something that portrayed a power imbalance in Gabe's favor? At no point did it even look like there was a chance she wouldn't get the car.

Not to mention, again, he was cowering before her and putting that pretty please on so he'd get the sandwich that he likes the most. Genuinely in no way or shape was this scene showing him as the one in a position of power.

It's not a good relationship, sure. But absolutely nothing that was set up is ringing the same kind of alarm bells that the books did.

And, again, that is what it's about. That this is one specific, particular, established dynamic and relationship. Not a generalization, not the option to show the broad variety of what unhealthy relationships look like, but the portrait of one specific relationship that we have already seen.

#tw: domestic abuse #I guess #but like. NOT IN THE SHOW???#PJOTV #PJOTV Spoilers #Gabe Ugliano

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shion-yu · 23 days

Text

Just The Two of Us

In his feverish haze, Shu couldn't tell whether it was someone he loved or someone he was afraid of at the door. Ft. Shu's boyfriend after Julian: Paul. (Not Sick Love AU) 2,879 words, TWs: Past domestic abuse, PTSD.

Written for the @whumplovers-collaborate 2024 Winter Exchange event and posted on AO3! Author reveals aren't technically until 3/1 but I don't think anyone will notice. There are TONS of amazing works in the collection (INCLUDING AN INSANE ART OF SHU/JULIAN!!) so I encourage you to browse it!

"Shumei? Answer me!"

Shu could hear someone yelling and banging on his front door. In his feverish haze, he couldn't tell if they meant well or not. Vaguely he wondered if he should call the police, but he lacked the energy to follow through on this idea. He felt as if his couch cushions were swallowing him, like he was sinking deep into a very dark and cold place.

"Answer before I break it down, Shu!"

It couldn't be Alex, Shu thought to himself. Alex had a key to the house. His son would come and go whenever he felt like it, usually without warning. Sometimes Shu would come home from work to find Alex sleeping on the couch or in his bed, in the latter situation the only indication that he was there at all being his shoes and coat by the door. Shu told Alex he should let him know when he wanted to sleep over, but secretly he enjoyed these surprise visits. Shu missed him now that they lived separately, and although Shu called him frequently his son was successful and busy in his career as a musician and didn't always have time to answer. They'd never gone more than a day not talking though, except when he was with Julian. Was it Julian at the door?

The sound of heavy thumping repeated over and over again. Julian was here to kill him, Shu thought weakly, fear rising in his throat like bile. He'd come back to finish the job he'd started. Doubtless he wanted revenge for what Alex had done to him. Shu's leg ached from where Julian had broken it that last time they’d been together.

There was a jarring cracking sound and suddenly Julian was there, hands on Shu's shoulders and shaking him. Shu felt frozen, too horrified to move a muscle in response. His throat felt bone dry and he couldn't get any words to come out. He heard the person in front of him speaking with insistence. "Shu, honey? Look at me. C'mon... Shit, you're really hot."

Julian did think it was hot when he was sick, Shu thought in terror. He liked it when Shu cried too, and when he bled. He liked to hit Shu in places that Alex and the people at work couldn't see because they were easy to hide underneath his clothes. He liked when Shu had to rely on him because he was too weak to do anything else.

One time he collapsed at work. He had been leaning over Mathias’ shoulder and showing him last month’s data when he just went down, entirely deadweight and without warning. Shu woke up on the ground to Mathias over him and shouting his name. He had a terrible fever, just like now, except it was because Julian had locked him out of the house last night in the rain when he was already ill. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done to make Julian so mad. Mathias had asked Shu why he had even bothered showing up to work with such a high temperature. 'Because it's the only place I'm safe anymore,' Shu remembered thinking.

If Julian was back, he’d do all of that terrible stuff to Shu all over. And even though Shu had promised Alex that he’d never hide something from him again, he was afraid to tell Alex. Alex was no longer a minor like he was the first time around; if he hurt Julian, he might end up in jail for real. “Don’t hurt me,” Shu begged. “I’ll be good.”

“Hurt you? I’m not going to hurt you,” the figure above him said. He sounded worried, but Julian was never worried. He didn’t worry about Shu’s well-being or about getting caught. No, he would just get angry.

Shu was too scared to look up at the person in front of him. He was too scared to face the person he'd spent years trying to completely forget about, but failed. Julian was always there when he least expected it: in his dreams, hiding in the shadows, even in the corner of his eyes if he turned around too quickly. "Don't hurt me," Shu repeated. "I-I didn't do anything."

“No, no. You're okay. Open your eyes, hun.”

Shu obeyed and realized it was not Julian above him, but Paul. Sweet, caring, lovely Paul who had indeed had never hurt him, even when Shu made mistakes like forgetting they’d made plans or leaving the oven on. Shu’s eyes filled with tears and he reached up towards Paul's face with one shaking hand. “I thought you were him,” Shu said, voice wavering. “No one else is here, right?”

“No, it’s just us,” Paul said, sitting next to him and rubbing his cool hands through Shu’s messy hair. “You’re really ill, that’s all. Alex called me, said you hadn’t answered your phone in days.” Oh, that’s right, Shu thought to himself. Alex was on tour and his mom was on vacation with her girlfriends.

“...Did you break my door?”

Paul laughed, sounding relieved that Shu was at least aware enough to ask this. “A little bit. I’ll fix it, don’t worry. I’m going to look through your cabinets and find meds, okay? Do you have a thermometer?”

“Bottom left cabinet in the bathroom,” Shu mumbled. Now that he was more awake, his head had begun to ache fiercely. Paul nodded and left him on the couch. Shu coughed; it sounded very wet and wheezy. He wondered vaguely where his rescue inhaler was, but he hadn’t used it in quite a while. Paul came back in two minutes holding the thermometer, a wet washcloth and a bottle of Tylenol. He took his place back on the edge of the couch and held the thermometer up to Shu. Shu felt like his arms were way too heavy but took the small instrument in his own hand and placed it under his tongue, closing his eyes while it worked. His eyes throbbed and felt extra hot inside of his skull.

It beeped about thirty seconds later and Shu handed it blindly to Paul, not bothering to look at it himself. "Oh man. 103.1. That’s really high, honey. Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shu grunted, which made him cough again. Paul helped him sit up a bit higher, hoping it would help Shu breathe. Shu coughed until he gagged on all the disgusting phlegm that came up. Thank God he had nothing in his stomach, because he was absolutely sure he was too weak to make it to the bathroom right now. Paul handed him one of the already very-used-up tissues from the couch, which Shu spit into.

“Here, at least take some Tylenol,” Paul said, holding out two extra strength tablets and a glass of water. Shu felt pathetic and old, but let Paul place the pills on his tongue and tip a sip of water into his mouth. “Good,” Paul said, helping Shu lay back down. “Let’s just see if that works first, alright? I’m going to go call Alex, let him know you’re okay.” He neatly placed the cold and wet cloth he’d brought on Shu’s forehead and stood up to go to the kitchen. Shu caught his wrist just before he took a step away.

“Just you and me here?” He confirmed again, ashamed but worried enough to ask. “You promise?”

“Just us,” Paul promised. He took Shu’s hand and kissed the back of his fingers. “Get some more rest and we’ll check your temperature again in a bit.”

The Tylenol seemed to only help a little. Shu’s temperature didn’t drop less than a degree and Paul was too worried to leave him alone. Shu was talking a lot in his sleep, Paul noted. A lot of apologizing and pleading. It broke his heart.

Paul didn’t know a lot about Julian. He knew that Shu had dated the guy for a bit over a year and it had ended very badly, with Alex having to step in and protect Shu. He knew whatever Julian had done had landed Shu in the hospital, and this was why Shu walked with a limp and had a very large scar on the left side of his abdomen. He didn’t know the specifics of how this all went down or what things Julian had done that hadn't left a mark. He could tell it was a sensitive topic from the way Shu seemed to awkwardly laugh and change the topic whenever it came up, though. So he hadn't asked, but through bits and pieces Paul was slowly begun to put the picture together. He understood the bottom line: that Julian had been a bad person who had treated Shu very poorly.

It pained Paul to imagine someone voluntarily hurting Shu. Shu was so nice, so mild-mannered. Not only would he never hurt a fly, but Paul was sure it would never even occur to him to do so. Shu had raised Alex as a single father entirely voluntarily starting the day that he’d gotten a call from CPS that a very distant relative had died, leaving their child in foster care and needing a home. “I had put my name down as someone interested in foster care at some fair, just once,” Shu had told Paul fondly. “I had no idea my contact information was still floating around as a potential parent. But when they called me, I said yes right away. I didn't know what I was really saying yes to, but it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

According to Shu, raising Alex had been quite the challenge. He was thirteen when he arrived, Shu said, and already had all the bad habits of a child who’d been neglected and forced to raise himself in the face of his unstable and drug addicted parents. The people who were supposed to protect him never had, and going from that to Shu who wanted to give him everything was a harsh adjustment for both of them. Alex had gotten into fights, he’d smoked even at thirteen, and he was academically testing far below what was supposed to be his grade level. “Somehow, we figured it out. We learned to trust each other and went to a lot of therapy and it worked out.” Shu said this with a clear air of pride. Paul was aware that Shu would always love Alex the most out of anyone in his life, and he was okay with that. He respected it.

All of this goodness in Shu that Paul could see made it so much worse to imagine Shu being beat down by someone else. Paul had seen pictures from that year, and in retrospect it was easy to see how ill Shu had been back then. Even though there was no visible evidence of bruising, he was gaunt and pale and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked nothing like the caring and easily contented person Paul knew him to be. Paul didn’t know what Julian looked like, but Alex had said if he ever saw him again he’d “bash the guy’s face in.”

He could hear Shu crying out now from the couch. Paul quickly set down the mug of tea he’d been drinking and hurried out to see what was the matter. Shu was flushed and sweating, mumbling something that sounded like, “If you break my glasses again Alex is gonna notice.” Paul felt a sharp pang of pity in his stomach and shook Shu’s shoulder gently.

“Honey, it’s just me, Paul. He’s not here anymore. You’re safe.”

Shu’s eyes slowly focused on Paul, fighting to come back to the present. “Paul?”

“That’s right. There’s nothing to worry about. Why don’t we go to bed?” He felt Shu’s cheek and frowned at the unhealthy heat coming off of him. The Tylenol wasn’t working. “Let’s sit up honey. There you go. Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Shu said weakly. He let Paul help him stand and then mostly drag him to his bedroom. It was a good thing Paul was strong from his years of dancing as a career, because when Shu's knees buckled he quickly caught Shu and carried him the rest of the way to the bedroom. Shu tucked his hot face into the crook of Paul's neck.

Paul tucked Shu in and sat next to him on the other side of the bed. He stuffed an extra pillow behind Shu’s head because his boyfriend sounded like he could barely breathe. “Can I get you anything?” Paul asked worriedly. He didn’t like the wheeze he could hear in Shu’s chest. “It’s too early for more Tylenol but... Where’s your inhaler?”

“Pocket... my jacket, I think.”

Paul quickly found the inhaler and brought it to Shu, helping him take two puffs of it. Shu coughed harshly after each one. Paul winced at the damp and congested sound. When Shu sounded no better an hour later and was groaning in pain from his fever again, Paul decided he needed to push harder. “I really think you need to see a doctor,” he said.

Shu’s eyes flew open in panic. “No doctors,” he said quickly. His chest was heaving with the work of breathing. “No doctors, no hospitals, that’s where he works, Paul.”

Paul didn’t need to ask who he was. Julian, who was actually in prison from what he understood, but now wasn’t the time to fight. He took a deep breath. “How about urgent care?”

There was a long pause. Shu seemed to be deeply considering this question. “Can Alex come?”

“Alex is on tour, honey. But we can keep him on speaker phone, if he’s not busy. How’s that sound? Deal?”

“...Deal.”

One very long appointment later, Shu was back home with a diagnosis of pneumonia but doing much better than when they’d left. They’d given him a liter of fluids, a shot of solu-medrol, and antibiotics and steroids to take at home in pill form. Paul had stayed with him the entire time, even when he got scared because Alex was driving through a dead service area and the phone call dropped for a few minutes. Paul tried not to listen to the things Alex was saying too closely as it felt intrusive, but it was impossible not to overhear much of it. Alex was using such a soft and gentle voice that Paul had never heard before - usually he was so stoic and sullen, minus the times he was threatening to kill Paul if he ever hurt his dad.

It wasn’t until they had gotten back through the (slightly broken) door into the house and Paul had herded Shu into bed that he took the phone and said to Alex, “We’re all set, if you need to go.”

“I don’t need to go,” Alex said irritably, but Paul could hear the bustle and noise of what he knew to be backstage. Alex would have to get on stage and perform any time now, pretending everything was okay for the sake of the audience. A voice called for him in the background and Alex sighed in frustration. “Okay, fine, I’ll go, but text me every hour,” he ordered. Then he added at the end, “Please.”

“Will do,” Paul said, unbothered by the sharp tone. He was used to it from Alex, plus he knew he’d be a wreck too if he were in Alex’s situation. “I’ll take care of him.”

“You’d better,” Alex said, and then he hung up.

Paul sighed and looked back at Shu who had already fallen asleep on the bed. He’d given Shu the first antibiotic as soon as they’d gotten through the door, and now set an alarm for Shu’s next doses of that, the steroid and more Tylenol. Shu was eleven years older than him and Paul was worried that pneumonia could quickly turn much worse in someone of Shu's age. But he was on the correct medications and Paul wasn’t going anywhere until Shu was doing better.

Shu stirred and his eyes fluttered open momentarily. “Paul?” He croaked weakly.

“I’m right here,” Paul said, immediately leaning over Shu with what he hoped was a gentle expression. In reality he just looked worried. He didn’t understand why a smile flickered over Shu’s lips. “What?”

“You look stressed,” Shu said. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I’ll be alright.”

“I know,” Paul said. “But I’m still worried. You thought I was... well, not me for a while.”

“Did I?” Shu said, smile dropping. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Paul said. “But whatever he did, I’ll never do it to you. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you know that?” He was worried to hear the answer.

To his relief, Shu said, “Yes, I know it. I really do. I’m so glad I met you.”

Paul smiled tiredly. “I’m glad I met you too. Now go to sleep, you need a lot of rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time for your next meds.”

“Thank you,” Shu said. “Love you.” Then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep again. Paul watched him all night to make sure Shu didn’t have any more nightmares.

#shionwrites #oc: shu #sickfic #oc sickfic #whump #tw: violence #tw: domestic abuse #ptsd #sicknario #male whump #sick whump #fever whump #illness whump #pneumonia fic

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