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wh6res · 3 years

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three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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demigodreading · 3 years

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Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus: Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N! We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved.

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention.

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment.

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness.

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day.

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her.

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time.

154 notes · View notes

hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

Your shift at The Wreck had been a long and strenuous one, more so than usual, because Kie hadn’t shown up for her night shift which left you to pull a double and cover for her. In your opinion, the nighttime customers were always worse than the morning customers since they typically consisted of kooks and tourons who expected the best of the best and nothing less. You had a short fuse, similar to your boyfriend, and would often get snippy with customers who complained about trivial things: their drinks having too much ice, their salad too much dressing, or their Chef’s Board not enough cheese or the wrong kind of cheese. Kie’s dad kept you on morning and afternoon shifts as much as possible due to the locals of The Cut coming to the cafe during those times, and your ability to make them feel at home while they ate their toast and sipped their coffee. So, having to work a night shift unexpectedly without a break from your morning shift left you feeling exhausted and detached from the world.

As peeved as you were with Kie for pulling a no-call-no-show, you were more worried than anything; especially when you noticed JJ wasn’t waiting outside to walk home with you like he normally was. You hadn’t heard from any of the other pogues since yesterday, when you had to go to work and they went over to Crain Mansion in search of the gold. You would’ve gone with them, but you couldn’t risk missing another day of work and possibly being fired. After your shift yesterday (and noticing the lack of blond curls outside the cafe), you had headed home with the plan to meet up with your friends and learn of any new updates--but, when you arrived, nobody was there. You waited around for the rest of the day, but when 10 o’clock rolled around and nobody had shown, you retreated to your bedroom and fell asleep. When you had woken up around 5 a.m to get ready for your shift at work, you were relieved to find JJ curled around you fast asleep, and your brother, Sarah, Kie, and Pope passed out together on the futon in the living room. They had a pot cradled between the four of them, but you thought nothing of it as you got ready for work. You left behind a note, asking them to stop by The Wreck when they woke up to fill you in on whatever you had missed, but they had never shown up.

Now, as you locked up The Wreck at the end of your 10 o’clock shift and waved to the cooks and other wait staff as you all parted ways, your worry only increased. The Cut was warm and humid as you made your way toward the chateau, forcing you to shed your work shirt in favor of the tanktop laying beneath. Your hair was pulled into a high-pony, and while it had been sleek and put together at 6 o’clock this morning, you now had frizzed strands falling into your face and the bottom of your hair was sticky from an exploded champagne bottle earlier that night. Your feet ached and your hips felt unbalanced from the constant speed-walking and maneuvering around tables and patrons, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse against JJ in your room and sleep for a solid 12 hours straight. Before you could do that, though, you had to continue your thirty-minute walk to said paradise and make sure everyone was okay.

As you left the hustle and bustle surrounding The Wreck and the docks, and ventured further into The Cut, you felt the tension beginning to ease out of your body at the familiar surroundings. As much as you loved The Wreck, you were not a fan of the kooks and tourons that migrated there throughout the night, bothering you during and after your shifts. As expected, the night held the worst of the batch, with alcohol and other drugs filtering their systems and giving them loose tongues and firm hands. Even though you could handle yourself and those who tried making a move on you, you never felt at ease or safe while leaving The Wreck; unless JJ or your friends were with you and you didn’t have to check over your shoulder every few feet. Crossing the imaginary threshold between The Wreck and The Cut always eased your mind, allowing you to slow your steps and cease checking your shoulder. This was also primarily because on The Cut, people knew who you were--not only as a waitress, a pogue, or (Y/N) Routledge, but as ‘JJ Maybank’s girl’. It pissed you off to no-end that people referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ more than your own name and you’d often chew people out on it, but you couldn’t deny the protection (and love and warmth and all-things-JJ) it gave you. You and JJ had been dating for two years, and while you loved him more than life and he loved you more than surfing, you often wished you could be seen as your own person: as (Y/N). Regardless of your annoyance at being solely known as JJ’s girl, as you walked the barely-lit streets of The Cut in nothing but a tank top and shorts, you were appreciative of your unofficial title. Very few people were walking around this late at night, but those who were offered you a simple nod or kept their eyes trained on the ground as you passed by, a complete contrast to the tourons near The Wreck. You expected this to continue until you reached your house, no longer looking over your shoulder for an unwanted kook or a touron that didn’t know the rules.

You turned another corner, now only fifteen minutes away from home, and rolled your shoulders to try and release some of the built-up tension you gained from your shift as you walked. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting your muscles relax and a gentle breeze from the ocean to cloud your senses. Just as you were about to open your eyes and continue forward, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. Your eyes shot open and your body turned but before you could see who it was, you felt the barrel of a gun press against your lower back. The metal was cold against your tank top as it dug into you, the owner’s hand coming up to grab your shoulder and keep you from moving away.

“Maybank shouldn’t be leaving his things unattended, especially ones as pretty as you,” a voice muttered into your ear, jabbing the gun harshly into your spine. You froze, trying to place the voice to a face as you heard a vehicle approach and stop beside you.

“I’m not a thing, actually,” you retorted, keeping the fear out of your voice as the man behind you jerked you forward toward the black SUV. The backdoor swung open, but you couldn’t see who was driving it or if there was anyone else waiting for you inside. “What do you want? JJ isn’t his dad, whatever Luke’s done to piss you off is his own problem, not ours.”

The man laughed sharply in your ear as he shoved you forward, causing you to drop your shirt and tumble off the sidewalk, and your torso to fall into the backseat. You yelled out when the man grabbed your legs and pushed your body into the car, your body bending painfully as he slid in beside you. The door slammed shut and the man backed you into the corner of the SUV, caging your body against the door. Your hand shot down to the door handle, yanking on it to open the door and let you fall out, but it didn’t budge.

“Child lock, snowball. You’re not going anywhere.”

You looked up, finally able to see the man’s face as he grinned down at you. His grill shined each time the SUV passed under a streetlight and the black hair dangling in his face tickled your nose from how close he was. Instantly, you brought your foot up and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away from you as you struggled to sit up.

“What the fuck do you want, Barry?” you snapped while the dealer across from you laughed loudly and held onto his stomach.

He smirked at you, “I forgot how much of a kicker you were, snowball.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been tryin’ to sell blow to fucking 8th graders,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never falling from his face. “I want my fucking money back. You little shits stole 25k from my goddamn house.”

“What the fuck are you on about? The last time I went to your shithole was a year ago to buy an 8ball,” you scoffed.

“And while I do miss the revenue you brought me during your time as a cokehead, I’m not talking about you, snowball. Your boy, your brother, your brother’s new whore, the ex-kook, and Heyward’s son stole from me. I know you’re too smart and levelheaded to pull a stunt like that, and the ex-kook and her boyfriend have too much going for them to fuck it up by crossing me. This means it was either your boy or your brother,” Barry explained, his jaw tight with anger as he spoke.

“First of all, Kie and Pope have names. Second of all, they’re not dating. Third of all, what makes you think it wasn’t Sarah? From what I’ve heard, the Cameron’s have a history of robbing you blind.”

“Because my sister is too much of a pansy to pull a stunt like this, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck Barry is.” Your head shot up at the new voice, and you made eye contact with Rafe in the rearview mirror. “You dirty pogues have corrupted my sister.”

“I see someone’s been bitched,” you chuckled with a roll of your eyes. Rafe’s foot slammed on the break and caused you to slam into the back of the passenger seat with an oomph. He turned around, his arm already raised to throw a punch, when Barry grabbed it first.

“Chill the fuck out, Country Club. Can’t go beaten on her just yet. Now hurry the fuck up and get us to the hanger.” Rafe’s nostrils flared at Barry’s demand, and after a moment of his fist flexing in Barry’s hold, Rafe relented. He jerked his arm back and continued driving in silence. “Don’t piss off the driver, snowball,” Barry tsked, waving his finger in your face.

“Look, why would JJ or Birdie steal 25 thousand dollars from you? You know how much JJ despises you and your business because of what it’s done to his dad and the hole I fell into last year, and my brother doesn’t even know who the hell you are. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Barry chuckled, “I see they’ve kept you in the dark. Did they tell you about the gold they found? That they tried pawning off to me this morning?” At the frown on your face and your furrowed brows, Barry laughed even harder. “Oh yeah, they brought in a seven-pound chunk of gold to the shop this morning. Offered ‘em a cashier’s check worth a couple thousand, but your boy is quite the negotiator. So, I sent them to the warehouse for the cash they wanted.”

“And let me take a wild-fucking-guess: on their way, you jumped them, stole the gold, and left them with nothing but dirt under their nails?”

Barry grinned at your words, his tongue sliding over his grill as he laughed. “See, this is why they should’ve brought you along! Would’ve saved them from all the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well fuck, no wonder they stole from you. You stole from them first, Barry. An eye for a fucking eye, it’s the way of the jungle ‘round here. It’s the only damn law you follow.”

“You’re right, it is the only law I follow. Which is why you’re here, snowball. You see, before I could complete my task, they jumped me and stole my wallet and the gold. You’re smart, I bet you’re starting to see the problem now. No gold, no wallet, no 25k,” Barry seethed, the smirk falling from his face as he leaned forward, pushing you back into the corner of the seat. “JJ Maybank stole from me, plain as day. If I had seven pounds of gold in my hand it would be different, I wouldn’t be as pissed. But, you see, I don’t. So, as you said, it’s an eye for an eye. And what better to steal from JJ Maybank, than the only thing he cares about? The only thing he owns?”

“He doesn’t own me, so jot that down.”

Barry threw his head back and laughed loudly, shooting an unnerving feeling down your spine. Rafe laughed along, though anyone could tell it was forced as his eyes darted from the mirror to the road. “This entire goddamn island knows that he owns you, snowball, and you damn well know it too. Which means until I get my money back, you’re my collateral.”

The bruises decorating JJ’s torso ached with each step he took, but he had to keep moving toward the chateau: he had to prove to the others that he was good. He had to prove that he could do the right thing with the money he stole. Even if his dad couldn’t do the right thing, and wouldn’t let him back in the house without another beating, JJ could do the right thing and be good. Even if he stole the money it didn’t matter, because Barry stole his life, and Barry didn’t deserve the money, and Barry wasn’t good. The money would pay off his restitution, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and Pope wouldn’t have to feel guilty or worry about it anymore, either. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore, and it would all be good.

But as JJ limped up the chateau’s steps, repeating to himself that, ‘it was all good, he was good, and everything would be good,’ he wasn’t expecting for the screen door to slam open and for John B. to body slam him into the ground. The blue thermos shot from his grip as he was flung down the stairs, and JJ couldn’t bite back his scream of pain when his already-aching body slammed into the dirt. He didn’t get a second to gather his bearings before John B. was pummeling his fists into his stomach and his arms and his face and anywhere else he could land a hit. JJ couldn’t even lift his legs to fight off his best friend from beating on his twice-battered body.

“This all your fault!” John B. screamed, his face an angry red as tears and spit rained down onto JJ. “He took her because of you!” He ceased his punches only to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat, squeezing and pressing down in an attempt to strangle the life out of his best friend.

Faintly, JJ could hear Pope, Kie, and Sarah screaming, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His entire body felt cold but his head felt hot, and the buzzing in his ears was growing louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He could see John B.’s face above him, his lips moving as he screamed and sobbed, and JJ could see his own blood splattered on his best friend’s jaw and shirt. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes, moving inward until he could only see the murderous rage filling John B.’s eyes. Just as the darkness settled over him, he felt John B.’s weight lift off of him and air came rushing back into his lungs. For a few seconds, all JJ could do was choke on the air whilst his body convulsed, and someone rolled him onto his side in a desperate hurry.

“-eathe, breathe JJ, come on.” Someone was talking to him, rubbing their hand up and down his back as he continued to shake. He still couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him and rubbing his back and all he really wanted to do was blackout for a bit. A harsh slap against the center of his back had other plans, causing the air to finally force itself into his lungs. JJ began to cough violently, continuing to choke on the air that was now entering his body. He tried pushing himself to his knees as he dry-heaved onto the ground, but his shaking arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Pope was yelling in the background, “Chill the fuck out, JB! You almost killed him!”, his voice bringing JJ’s senses back to where they belonged.

“He fucking deserves it! He’s the reason she’s gone!” John B. yelled back, his voice deeper than JJ could remember. JJ blinked a few times, trying to focus on the bloody grass in front of him while his two friends continued fighting in the distance.

“Hey, just keep breathing,” the person helping him - who JJ now recognized as Kie - soothed, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face as more blood dribbled from his lips. She was upset, JJ could tell by the way her hands were shaking and the sound of wet sniffles every few seconds. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, who John B. was talking about, but all that came out was a harsh wheeze from his burning lungs and even more blood. “Don’t- don’t say anything. Please, JJ, just… just breathe for a few minutes,” Kie whimpered before a sob slipped from her lips.

He did as she asked and allowed his eyes to close, his body sinking into the ground as he focused on regulating his breathing. After a few minutes, JJ could hear John B. storm inside the chateau, kicking JJ’s crumpled body on his way up the stairs.

“John B., stop it!” Sarah yelled as she followed him inside.

Pope came and knelt in front of JJ, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “You fucked up, JJ, worse than I ever thought possible,” Pope sighed as he adjusted JJ against the railing.

“What-” JJ broke off to cough into his fist, ignoring the blood that splattered across his hand, “what happened?” His voice was hoarse and barely understandable, but Kie and Pope knew what he was saying.

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer. One of the most nefarious drug dealers on this island, that’s what happened,” Kie said, standing up and pacing in front of the blond. “What did you think was gonna happen, JJ? That he’d let it go?”

“What did he take? The HMS Pogue?” JJ rasped, looking up at his friends in confusion. “(Y/N)’ll be pissed, but we can get it back, or I’ll buy her and John B. a new one with the money.” His thoughts didn’t make sense inside of his pounding head, but he still voiced them regardless.

“How are you so stupid?” Pope yelled, causing JJ to flinch as the other to shot to his feet. “Why would John B. try to kill you over a boat? Don’t you think (Y/N) would be out here yelling at you, too?”

“My girl doesn’t yell, you know that, Pope,” JJ shook his head. “She’s got work and the boat- the boat is all they’ve got left of Big John,” JJ said, coughing a few times. His head was foggy and his vision was still blurry, so he couldn’t see the mentioned boat sitting on the dock to his left.

“No, JJ,” Kie sighed, “Barry didn’t take the HMS. He took (Y/N). He left a note on the van--he wants his money back, plus the gold, and an extra 5k in exchange for (Y/N). He’ll be back in a week to make the trade.”

“He didn’t say what he’d do to her if we don’t give him what he wants but… it’s not something that needs to be said,” Pope whispered as he carefully watched for JJ’s reaction.

A cold chill fell over JJ, causing him to shiver violently despite the warm temperature outside. “You’re lying,” he spat, forcing himself to his feet. Pope and Kie backed up, steering clear of his sudden burst of energy. “You’re fucking lying, she’s not- she’s not gone, he didn’t lay a fucking finger on her. Barry knows better. You just… you just want me to return the money, that’s it, she’s fine, she’s inside right now, she’s-”

“JJ, stop, please,” Kie cried as JJ spun around, tripping over himself in his haste to run up the stairs. Pope grabbed ahold of him before he could make it very far, pulling him away from the house and John B.’s anger. JJ flailed in his grasp, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen and two beatings his body had just endured, to fight Pope off.

“She’s fine!” he screamed, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes. “I told her I would protect her, I promised nobody would ever lay a finger on her! She’s inside, and she’s fine--Barry didn’t fucking touch my girl, you’re lying,” he sobbed, straining against Pope’s hold on his biceps.

“Why would we lie about this?” Kie yelled back, suddenly overwhelmed with having to watch JJ fall apart like this in front of her. “Why would your best fucking friend try and beat you to death if it wasn’t true? Why would the gold have been included in the letter? Huh JJ? Do you think (Y/N) would have ever gone along with something like this?” she screamed, her voice hoarse from crying as well.

“We’re telling the truth, JJ. She’s gone,” Pope said, holding onto JJ even tighter as his thrashing momentarily increased.

JJ let the words wash over him, the truth of his mistake settling deep in his bones. The guilt, and the grief, and the anger weighed him down, and before he could stop himself, he let out a deep, guttural, inhumane scream of agony. Pope couldn’t hold him up anymore as JJ’s knees gave out, his entire body collapsing to the ground while he screamed. His throat burned more than it had before and he didn’t notice when his voice gave out, leaving him a mess on the floor with spit and blood dribbling from his gaping mouth. Pope cradled JJ to his chest, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while Kie fell beside the two, trying to get JJ to breathe again through her own tears.

Half an hour later, you were pulling up beside a hanger at the very back of a storage facility. You knew kooks used this area to store their boats, planes, cars, and other expensive things when they weren’t intending to be used in the near future--so you weren’t surprised when Rafe got out of the van and opened up the hanger, revealing a vintage boat and a handful of different furniture. With hurricane season already underway, and summer having begun, you knew kooks weren’t going to be visiting the storage facility very often, meaning there wasn’t a high hope that someone would stumble across you.

“Welcome to your new home, snowball,” Barry leered, before opening the backdoor and dragging you out of the SUV. He kept the gun pressed against your waist while leading you into the hanger, leaving Rafe to pull the SUV around the corner. It was cold inside, much colder than you were expecting, and you had to fight to keep a shiver from trickling down your spine. “You and I are gonna be real comfortable in here for the next week, maybe longer if your boy doesn’t come through.”

‘He’ll come through’, you thought to yourself, worry spiking inside of you at the mention of JJ. You looked over your shoulder as Rafe came into the hanger and loudly pulled the door down behind him. “So, what? You’re just going to keep me locked up in here until you get what you want? I have a fucking job, Barry. I’ve already called out enough as it is, pulling a no-call-no-show for an entire week is going to get me fired.”

Barry reeled around to stare at you, an incredulous look on his face. “I’ve just kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint, and you’re worried about your damn job?” he asked, waving the gun in front of your face for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah, no shit. My job is the only reason DCS hasn’t snatched me and my brother into the system. Mr. Carrera has agreed to help us maneuver a few technicalities with DCS--so long as I take on extra shifts when needed, and show the fuck up. Plus, a week’s worth of zero tips means bills won’t be paid and stomachs won’t be fed,” you scoffed, knocking the gun away from your face.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, snowball-”

“Ay, nuh-uh, Country Club. Get your own nickname,” Barry cut in, prompting you to raise your eyebrows.

“But you-”

“Nope. Get your own.”

Rafe paused, glaring down at you in thought, before nodding to himself. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, Maybitch-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your forehead in exasperation. ‘It’s got a nice ring to it, though, and JJ would eat it up… Could even get a laugh out of Pope, I bet,’ you couldn’t help but think.

Barry knocked the gun against Rafe’s shoulder, shutting him up with a look of annoyance. “Your boy has gotten himself in a lotta trouble, 25k worth of trouble. So until I get my fucking money, you’re not going anywhere,” Barry simplified.

You pouted in mock disappointment, “Could you at least write a note to my boss?” Barry groaned with a roll of his eyes before he nodded his head at Rafe and directed him toward something you couldn’t see. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Bear. JJ and the others have probably spent the money already. JJ’s got restitution to pay, Pope has an interview he needs a suit for, Kie’s been wanting a new surfboard, and Birdie’s been wanting to fix up our boat with somethin’ pretty. There’s no way they’d let 25 thousand dollars burn a hole in their pockets.”

Barry chuckled darkly with a shake of his head and turned your body around. He forced you to face the spot he had sent Rafe to, where you saw a metal chair bolted to the ground with Rafe stood beside it. He held a boat chain, a lock, and zip ties in his hands and a wicked grin was cracked along his face. Barry moved your ponytail out of the way so he could lean his chin on your shoulder, taking satisfaction in the way your body trembled. “Trust me, snowball, after they see how well you’ve been treated at Hotel Barry, they’ll find a way to get me my money. And you,” he paused to laugh softly in your ear, “you’ll be providing me all the information I need on where to find the rest of that gold.”

‘I’m so fucked.’

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @sophster1881 @alilcloudy

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #the pogues #the pogues imagine #the pogues imagines #the pogues x reader #outer banks netflix

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iloveitwhen · 3 years

Note

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later.

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply.

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.”

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent.

“Not from around here, are you?”

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.”

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger.

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt.

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there.

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood.

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that.

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck.

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut.

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?”

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade.

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her.

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood.

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database.

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity.

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.”

Wait what.

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question.

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out.

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop.

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete.

“Prove you’re him.”

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range.

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go.

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm.

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham.

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them.

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered.

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly.

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down.

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time.

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.”

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.”

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told.

“Do you remember?”

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.”

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.”

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare.

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him.

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd.

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it.

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way.

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep.

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot.

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly.

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right.

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head.

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye.

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again.

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock.

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie.

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle.

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

#sibling jasonette #maribat #this is real late #sorry about it #is it angsty??#im not that great at angst #also tumblr was not letting me use the cool version of that symbol #just rude #btw I edited this feb.23 just so you know but not very big changes #i dont know if you care or not

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Do Well. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: dabi is just a huge asshole, emotional manipulation, implied panic attack word count: 2.6k.

“Would you be a dear and wait here for a few? I need to take a call.”

Dabi tilts his head alongside his words, glints of amusement present in his sapphire eyes. You’re certain the bastard picks up on every subconscious movement your body makes at the question, feeling like an open book before him. Despite your valiant efforts, human biology doesn’t operate in your personal interest. The challenging premonition causes your lips to curl down, fingers twitching on the wide straw of your milk tea. Pausing mid sip, you pull back, eyelashes fluttering. It’s the subservient behavior he wants to see, and considering the alternatives, you’re tripping over yourself to give it to him.

“... Of course. I should just stay here, right?” It’s more of a question posed for your sake than his, information vital to keep your head above water. Any movements on your behalf that even hint at disobedience could lead to dire consequences, ranging in severity. The worst of which is being confined back to his dingy apartment, with nothing but your thoughts to entertain yourself. All the faux smiles, carefully timed giggles, and strategic brushes of skin against skin would be for naught. You worked too hard for these trips outside for it to fall through your fingers like sand.

Your captor makes a point of giving you a once over, lackadaisical visage a front for a predator in waiting. Condensation builds up against the plastic container in hand, making it tricky to tell if it’s your hands growing clammy or the drink. Time passes by at a snail’s pace, neither of you making the slightest of movements. People go about their lives in happy-go-lucky bliss, none the wiser to the potential harm that Dabi poses. Feeling finally returns to your body as he stands, seemingly content with the exchange.

He shoots you a coy look over his shoulder, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Dabi snickers at how your nose scrunches up, waving and slinking off with his phone in hand. You watch his retreating figure, still in disbelief over the unfolding events. This would be the first time since being kidnapped that you’ve been on your own in public. These special little outings were a privilege, one that you had worked diligently for. Consistently being on your best behavior, day after day, in the presence of someone you abhor from the depths of your soul is no easy task. A rush of adrenaline shoots through your body when he’s out of sight, eyes darting around in excitement.

This is a prime location to make an escape, the outdoors of a crowded mall in the afternoon. Everyone ranging from families, to couples, and employees on their lunch break are walking around. Lively chatter fills your ears, and you observe every possibility as if it’s your last. While it’s likely a futile dream, the rush your quickening pulse brings demands attention. Lithe fingers shake by your side, every ounce of your strength devoted to keeping yourself from unraveling at the mere concept of being free. He has to be watching. You know him well enough that he wouldn’t have offered the opportunity to escape on a silver platter, there’s got to be measures in place.

There’s no way he isn’t keeping an eye on you now, making sure that you hold true to your word of behaving.

Your shoulders slump at this cruel reality. The act of looking around excitedly would be too much of a give away, an observation he’d surely bring up later. An eruption of goosebumps dot your skin, even in the sweltering summer heat. Taking another sip of your drink, you abandon hope of escape, certain it’d be a mistake should you try it. Though he’s purposefully kept you in the dark on most of his relationships with the League of Villains, you can safely assume he’s interconnected with enough unsavory figures to locate you should it be necessary. In contrast to the sugary goodness that coats your tongue, a sour taste in your mouth develops at this blatant flaunting of power. What an asshole.

To be so self-assured that even in the event of your escape, hunting you down and bringing you back into his loving arms is still within the realm of possibility. Your eye twitches at this realization, mentally flinging numerous curses towards him. He didn’t have to make it so obvious, rubbing salt on the theoretical wound of your pride. Too preoccupied with festering thoughts of resentment, you fail to notice a figure taking a seat next to you on the bench.

“Is the drink not good or something?” A light, masculine voice asks from your left. Darting around immediately at the interruption of your venomous thoughts, you spot a man around your age. Sporting messy brunette hair and a casual get up of a tee with a pair of jeans, it tugs painfully on your heart to see someone living an uninhibited life as you used to. This envy mutates into horror, as you realize being caught speaking to a stranger is going to land you in boiling water. Dabi’s consciousness is a minefield in waiting, daring to blow at the slightest wrong movement.

What do you do? It might leave a wrong impression should you not say anything. The current times are plagued by high tension. Numerous League of Villain attacks have rendered the surrounding regions on constant alert, news anchors telling folks to be wary of anyone or anything suspicious. Weighing your options, you decide to dismiss the stranger in kind as fast as humanly possible.

Just act natural, act natural… “W-why do you say that?”

Shit. Your first conversation with someone other than Dabi in over half a year has left you thoroughly horrified, pupils no doubt dilated and voice meeker than a mouse squeak. The stutter has you wincing, your naive companion undoubtedly picking up on it. You want nothing more than to shoo him off, but in fear of drawing unwanted attention, attempt to suppress your frayed nerves. You’ve been through worse than a strained conversation and made it out relatively unscatched, but this feels like a different type of battle.

“You just seemed to be making quite the upset face,” he chuckles, reminiscing on the thought. He must’ve been referring to the glowering thinking about Dabi brought out from you. “I swear I’m not a creep or anything. I was just waiting to pick up my little sister, and happened to catch you scowling.”

“The name’s Ryota. And you?”

Suppressing panic that threatens to drown you, you swallow thickly. “I’m uh, Hina. The drink is fine… I just have a lot on my mind.”

The lie is seasoned with enough truths that you hope it isn’t too transparent. Giving away your actual name could hint back to missing person’s cases, the thought of which would greatly displease Dabi. Besides, if it had been as simple as going to the police, you would’ve done it by now. You’ve grown uncomfortably familiar with Dabi’s workings, killing off a few people or bribing them would be one of the least heinous things in his portfolio. You figure the best case scenario here is that this well meaning Ryota character leaves you be, or else dire consequences will come to fruition.

“Good to know, Hina-san. My lil sis talks about boba often, but I’ve never gotten that into it. I figure since the store’s right here, I should surprise her with a drink. What would you recommend?”

You can’t help but greedily soak in the normalcy an interaction like this brings with it. The irritation from being drawn into a conversation is replaced with pity, a stronger resolve to keep this bystander out of harm’s way blooming. There’s no time to be wasted on the warmth erupting in your chest, or on the first genuine smiles in months that’s settled on your lips. To see the best humanity has to offer, after being subjected to the worst, is a much needed breath of fresh air. While it may be greedy to fixate on these aspects, you find yourself wanting to savor the moment of being a regular person.

Surely, Dabi would understand your logic.

“It depends on her tastes. If she likes sweeter drinks, I’d recommend Thai milk tea. If you’re not sure, classic milk tea is always a safe bet.” You’re proud of how you’ve been able to pull yourself together, speaking like you used to. With this, he should be set to leave, or at least you want to believe this. Unfortunately for you, life is never so easy. He doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere anytime soon, crossing his legs and leaning slightly closer to you. Realizing your mistake of radiating friendliness, your muscles go taut.

You need to do something about this before it’s too late.

Ryota scratches his head, mulling over your advice. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I appreciate your insight.”

“It feels nice to be able to chill and talk like this every now and then. If I’m being honest, I was somewhat against my sister coming out to hang with friends,” Ryota’s tone takes a turn for the somber, face looking crestfallen. “With all the chaos that’s been around, y’know. It feels like everyday I wake up to more of those League of Villain stories. It feels like it’ll just be a matter of time until something happens near here.”

“I’m sorry that--”

“Things sure are rough,” A voice that brings out every negative emotion possible speaks up from behind you, Dabi’s familiar figure slithering into sight. He takes a seat on the bench, close to your person, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a bit. You mind?”

Neither of you were expecting the sudden interruption, Ryota trying to piece everything together. “Oh, uh, not at all.’

Everything hits you like a ton of bricks. From Dabi’s rich cologne that mixes in with the smell of ash, his hair brushing against the side of your face, to the possessiveness of his grip. He squeezes your shoulder, looking from Ryota to you. It takes a moment to register what he’s communicating, but you’re able to decipher the gesture. In a last ditch attempt to salvage this situation, you confirm Dabi’s statement before things get ugly. Nodding your head, you watch with bated breath as Ryota looks from Dabi to you. He gets up from his spot on the bench, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It was nice talking to you.”

Ryota heads off towards the mall doors, leaving you in the clutches of the devil incarnate. You feel how terribly warm Dabi is next to you, words wanting to spill out to justify the actions that led up to this moment. Before you get the opportunity to ramble out your thoughts, Dabi places a finger on your lips, looking at you with the same grin as always.

“Making some new friends, hm?” He inquires, drawing out the syllables. His finger goes south, lifting up your chin, and holding you close to his face. “Awe, babe. You look like you’re aboutta cry. Don’t give me that look.”

You’re not sure if you should feel horrified at his sudden spike in talkativeness, or relieved over not having to speak your piece yet. The words wouldn’t be able to leave your mouth even if you wanted them to, a lump forming in your throat to coincide the dryness of your tongue. Dabi makes a point of emphasizing his engulfing height, having to tilt your head up to maintain eye contact. Not wanting to make a scene, you do everything within your power to still the tears that are threatening to spill out. There’s no visible signs of wrath, not that you can pick up on. He watches with great interest as you calm yourself, releasing the grip on your face and leaning back into the bench.

When you appear sufficiently soothed, he speaks up once more, voice grating your ears. “So tell me, doll. What was all that about? I knew you’d be hurting for company in my absence, but I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to speak to someone else.”

“I… I was approached, and… I swear, nothing happened. He just-- just wanted to know about a drink for his sister, and--”

Dabi gently flicks your forehead, unable to stifle his cackling any longer. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I saw everything.”

It doesn’t settle in immediately, the hypothetical cogs and gears of your head turning in slow motion. Your heart is pounding so violently that you hear it in your ears, your face erupting into a bright red. Humiliation, indignation, and finally, loathing take turns dominating your mind. He’s always had the best of times playing with you at your own expense, poking and prodding to see what reactions he can get. There’s a knee jerk reaction to want to slap him, anything to let out these overflowing feelings. Knowing that getting bothered is what he finds the most pleasure in, you’re further motivated to gain control over yourself.

A deep breath. Inhale, exhale. You continue repeating these steps, biting your tongue to the point it stings. Dabi rests his head on his fist, watching you calm yourself down through lidded eyes. You really do get yourself worked up so easily, it’s endearing. He wants to pinch your cheeks and tease you more, but is feeling generous enough to give you this time to gather yourself. There’ll be plenty of time to play with you later, occupying himself with this cute sight placates him for the time being. When you finally reopen your eyes, you’re met with the deplorable sight of Dabi’s crooked grin.

“Can we just… go home? Please?” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate everything about this situation, about the life that you’ve been forced into living. How you have to adapt to unspoken rules, subjected to twists and turns that never let you lower your guard. Most of all, you hate the person who has done this to you. His touch, his scent, his voice, all of it. You want nothing more than to scream at him at the top of your lengths, ripping that satisfied looking off his flesh and ridding yourself of this turmoil once and for all.

“Hm? Already? I thought you were hoping to get some dinner out tonight.” Dabi keeps up an air of nonchalance, likely wanting to hear you repeat yourself. Not willing to give in outright, you instead bunch up the fabric of his jacket with your hand.

“Dabi…”

It’s a low plea. You know you’ve gotten your point across ages ago, but he’s deriving too much pleasure from seeing how you squirm. The painful utterance serves you well, earning the slightest bit of reprieve as he gets up. On shaky legs, you follow after him, head downcast. Fixating on the tops of your shoes, you wonder if distracting yourself might do anything to ease your tormented soul. The events of the day have left you thoroughly exhausting, and nothing sounds better to you than sleeping for as long as he’ll allow you.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head on back,” he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. No longer having strength to muster up in retaliation, you let him do as he pleases, still fighting down sniffles. “Don’t bother your pretty little head about this.”

You don’t bother honoring him with a reaction.

Dabi takes a final glance over his shoulder, spotting the pesky man from before, who is still waiting against a wall. He takes a mental picture of the notable features, lips settling into a deep frown. How troublesome. Before you notice anything, he picks up his pace, continuing the walk back to his apartment. Ideas and resentment swirl within his mind like a tornado, pent up frustration begging to be released.

All in due time, he thinks.

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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years

Text

Coffee Break

there’s a severe lack of Franklin x reader content and I wanted to try and fix that

Franklin sat at the back of the small cafe, almost tucked away behind an oddly-placed wall and out of view of the majority of the other patrons in the building. He was aware that the manager didn't like him due to how his appearance tended to make other people nervous, and that didn't at all fit with the inviting atmosphere the cafe was supposed to give off. So every time Franklin came in the hostess would take him to the small table in the back at the manager's instruction, in an attempt to hide him from other customers. Unwanted because he scared customers, but tolerated because he brought in money for the business. Franklin suspected that the instant he did anything to upset the manager further he would be promptly banned. But that didn't particularly matter to him; he didn't even like the food that they served.

The only reason he came to that cafe was because of you.

His first time entering the cafe had been an impulsive decision, just to see if it was any good. In general he didn't like going out to eat on his own. Among other nen users, he unusual, but among the non-nen using majority of the population he was a freak. And while he could hardly care of what others thought of him, the fearful reactions and the constant worried glances got old quick.

The reaction from the hostess had been stiff, and the dinner he ordered wasn't good at all. If anyone else had served him that evening, he wouldn't have come back.

But it had been you. Even hours after he had left he found his thoughts drifting to you.

Though you had done well to mask it, he could spot the surprise on your face when you laid eyes on him and took in his unusual appearance. But it had only been in that one moment, and after that you had taken on a professional retail smile as you greeted him and wrote down his order. Your body language indicated that you were comfortable with him, and you had even engaged in some light small talk, asking if it was his first time at the cafe. It was obvious that it was, but he just nodded, prompting you to thank him for visiting the cafe and expressing your hope that he would enjoy the food. When you'd checked on him in the middle of his meal he lied and said that the food tasted fine. And on handing him his check, you had told him that you hoped he would come again.

Anyone but you and he would have forgotten the place.

“Sorry for the wait, Franklin.”

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see you approaching. You didn't bother pulling out your notepad after you placed a glass of water in front of him.

“Just the usual, or did you want something different today?”

“The usual,” he said, nodding.

“Alright. One coffee coming up.”

The only options on the cafe's menu that Franklin found he somewhat liked were only on their breakfast menu, and he suspected that was where the cafe found the majority of its business as that was always when it was busiest. But you didn't work mornings often, so when he went in during lunch hours he would order a single coffee. It only served to further annoy the manager with how little he was spending, but you didn't mind, greeting him just as warmly whenever he came in.

When he decided that he wanted you, he memorized your schedule and made an effort to go in two or three times a week. With the hostesses always placing him at that table in your section, he quickly became a regular customer of yours, and by now you knew him well enough to call him by name. Hearing his name coming from your lips was nice. He wished he could hear that more often. To talk to you outside of that cafe setting, for you to open yourself up to him completely and accept him.

If only that was something that could be done fast.

Franklin wasn't delusional. While he was infatuated, he was well aware that part of the way you treated him was just you doing your job and that you didn't have any sort of romantic feelings for him. He could tell that you at least found him interesting. You asked him questions in the brief chances that you had, asking him about his life: where he was from, what he did for a living, how he came to be in the area. Your desire to know more about him was an innocent one. He imagined that you had never encountered anyone quite like him in your life and your curiosity got the better of you. It was just a shame that almost all of his answers were lies; they had to be given the nature of his life as a criminal. At times it made him feel guilty that he gave you so few honest answers. But lying was his only option and he told himself that he would make it up to you later, when he had gotten closer.

As many of those small questions you asked, you were always careful to never bring up the scars on his face. Likely because you perceived that to be a sensitive subject, but it was also just as likely that you asking such a question would be grossly inappropriate. At this point Franklin could say that the two of you had a thin friendship, but there was always a barrier that separated the two of you as 'customer' and 'worker', and as certain as he was that you did genuinely like him, it didn't go beyond that. That scenario of the two of you together, of you loving him, was a long way off.

It would have been easy to just take you. You didn't live with any family and seemed to keep to yourself outside of your work hours. There would be some news if you suddenly disappeared, but the sad truth was it wouldn't take all that long for you to become another missing person who vanished without a trace and inevitably forgotten by those who had known you. But the experience of being kidnapped would no doubt break you. You would fear him, and that was the one thing he didn't want. The last thing he wanted was for you to be afraid.

So for this, he would take his time and slowly reel you in. He wasn't always the most patient man, but he could be for the things that mattered, and slowly but surely he would break down the barrier between you two.

You set down a hot cup in front of him, along with a small bowl filled with coffee creamers.

“Anything interesting happening with your job?” you asked. It was a recent development that you skipped the formalities, not bothering to ask if he needed anything else since the answer was always 'no'.

“What did you say your job was again?”

“Security,” he answered.

“Ah! Right.”

“There's nothing interesting to speak of, I'm afraid,” Franklin continued, “work is the same as ever.”

You hummed.

“That can be nice, though,” you said, “nothing interesting means nothing bad happening, right? And that must be good for that line of work.”

“I suppose that's true,” he said, smiling at you. He then noticed your manager glaring from behind you.

“Your boss doesn't seem too happy,” he whispered.

“Ah!”

You moved quickly, giving him the standard customer service line of enjoying his drink before vanishing to the kitchen, your manager following after.

Franklin sat there with the coffee, the mug comically small in his hand, sipping the beverage slowly. The time he had with you was always too short, but that was to be expected. The setting didn't allow for any long or truly meaningful conversations. You were, after all, on the clock. At some point soon, he hoped he could go to that next step: of meeting you outside of your workplace and speaking with you freely, when there wouldn't be any sense of obligation on your part because he was a customer who knew where you worked. That you would trust him, and then he could work on getting closer.

Minutes passed. You had come back out and were doing other tasks, serving other customers. Franklin watched you from the corner of his eye. It wouldn't do if the other staff caught him blatantly staring at you and warned you about it. He had to be certain that he didn't do anything that could potentially put you off. His glances were brief, and you made your way through your section, unaware of the eyes on you and the thoughts that ran through his head. You were such a weak thing in this incredibly harsh world. So many like you died every day and you didn't even know it. There were so many ways you could have died before this point, from being eaten by some magical beast, getting killed by a rouge nen user, or just by being taken advantage of by a man with dark intentions.

Someone like himself.

That thought flew through his mind, and Franklin couldn't help but smirk. He was exactly the sort of man you should be avoiding: a wanted criminal followed by an endless trail of bodies of which he held no remorse for. But he intended on you remaining ignorant of that fact. He didn't want you to view him in such a light, so he would simply tread carefully and as time went on, he would wedge his way further into your life until you were his.

You came by with the check a short time later, placing the slip on the table as you collected the now empty cup. He thought once again of your boss, and decided to see what your reaction would be if he mentioned him.

“Your manager doesn't like me much, does he?” Franklin asked.

You paused.

“Ah, well....” you trailed off, glancing behind you as if your boss would magically appear at the sound of his name.

“Between you and me,” you whispered, leaning in closer, to which Franklin found himself leaning in as well.

“He's just an asshole. So don't pay attention to him.”

You straightened back up quickly, looking back behind you while Franklin chuckled.

“And don't tell him I said that,” you laughed, a light blush on your face.

“Never,” he replied.

You vanished once more into the kitchen while he paid the bill. It may not have meant much to you, but it was the most you had ever done to drop the customer service veil and speak with him like that, even if it was just about the worthless manager. It meant that you trusted him to a certain extent.

Franklin made his way out of the cafe, other patrons and servers stepping out of his path as he walked along, all looking anxious as he walked by. The typical reactions he was used to. Out on the sidewalk, he checked his phone for the time. Nobu wanted him to join in on a job, and since Uvogin was also going to be there, he didn't want to deal with a lecture on being late.

With one last glance through the cafe window, he hoped to see you before he left. And he did.

But what he didn't expect was to see you looking back at him.

You seemed caught as off-guard as he was, with you blinking in surprise as the two of you made eye contact. But then you smiled at him. A small, but genuine smile accompanied by a small wave of your hand. Franklin couldn't remember any time someone had looked at him so sweetly.

He waved back in response and watched as you quickly returned to your work.

This was good.

As Franklin began to make his way to his meeting point, his thoughts remained on you. That barrier was breaking faster than he expected.

#yandere hunter x hunter #franklin bordeau #hxh franklin #reader insert #yandere x reader #franklin x reader #yandere

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melzula · 4 years

Note

how about a fire liiies blurb about princess reader, zuko and iroh coming across azula after the invasion of the north?

a/n: the first half is so much longer than the second oh goodness but I hope you enjoy!

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“Run away with me.”

“We’ll go wherever you’d like, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re together.”

“We’re going to be so happy together, y/n.”

“You’re going to be happy with me.”

The ocean breeze that flows through your loose locks of hair is a bittersweet reminder of the home you’d left behind three years ago today. The quiet island you’ve found to rest on is beautiful, but it’s hard to enjoy the peace and tranquility that surrounds you after having grown accustomed to living a life of constant action and chaos. It’s in the moments of stillness that your mind is able swirl with thoughts of guilt and doubt until you begin to feel nauseous and homesick. You love Zuko, and that seems to be the only thing you‘re ever one hundred percent sure of nowadays. The rest is fuzzy and uncertain, but you try not to let it get the best of you.

You’ve kept your distance from Zuko for most of the day, wanting to allow him the necessary amount of space and respect needed to lament over the anniversary of his banishment, but the invisible barrier that separates you both only seems to make things more depressing. You feel guilty for having such thoughts, but you can’t help the small bit of resentment that sits in your heart as you are reminded of the fact that you should be in Ba Sing Se right now instead of sulking on the dock. If you had known you’d be traveling fruitlessly in search of the Avatar, you might have rethought your decision just a bit more. You can’t say you regret your choice, however, because it got you out of an unwanted marriage and gave you an opportunity to grow as a bender, something you never would have gotten at home. Your mother used to say that things always had a funny way of working themselves out, and you had to hope that this piece of advice was true.

A quiet presence seats themself beside you, and you don’t have to look to know that it’s Zuko. There is no tension or awkwardness to the silence you sit in, but there is a bit of nervousness that radiates off of Zuko. He knows today is important to you just like it is to him, though for partly different reasons, and he wants you to feel understood and appreciated. Spirits know he hasn’t done a very good job of that lately.

“Do you like it here?” Zuko asks quietly.

“It’s beautiful,” you hum in response. “I’ve never been anywhere like it.”

“I’m glad,” he nods before opening his palm to you and revealing a beautiful cherry blossom. His cheeks are dusted with a light shade of pink as he clears his throat and gestures to your hair. “May I?”

A gentle smile graces your features at the offer and you nod, allowing Zuko to carefully tuck the flower into your hair. He’ll never be able to understand how someone as beautiful and precious as you could love someone so flawed like himself. What was it that kept you around even after all he put you through? He knew it wasn’t for money nor for a chance to climb your way to the top; you were a Princess who chose to throw everything away to live a simple life as peasants with him in Ba Sing Se. He knew you loved him, but so had his mother and she had still left him. You don’t know it, but Zuko fears the day you decide you’ve had enough and leave him behind.

“You’re beautiful,” Zuko admits with a small smile, and you happily rest your head upon his shoulder and look out at the crystal blue ocean before you. “Thank you for being here with me. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“Things never are,” you note knowledgeably, “but I don’t mind it. Not when I’m with you.”

“I love you,” Zuko professes, and it occurs to him then that he hasn’t said so in a long while. Yet another fault you seem to ignore because you truly do care for him in a way that no one ever has.

“I love you too. And I truly do believe things are going to get better from here.”

“Let’s go inside,” Zuko says after a moment’s beat. “Uncle should be back from the beach by now.”

Rising from his seat on the dock, Zuko holds his hand out to you and helps you up from the ground before guiding you back up the hills and into your temporary shelter. Neither of you are sure how long you’ll be able to stay here, but with the beautiful cherry blossom trees and kind people who reside on the island, it isn’t exactly a bad place to live. Maybe you can get your fresh start here.

Iroh is there to greet when you return to your little refuge, a vast collection of seashells laid out to admire on the table.

“Look at these magnificent shells!” Iroh exclaimed, handing you a particularly pretty blue conch. “I’ll enjoy these keepsakes for years to come.”

“We don’t need anymore useless things,” Zuko reminds him exasperatedly. “You forget, we have to carry everything ourselves now.”

“Hello, brother,” a voice suddenly interrupts, starting the three of you. “Uncle... Princess.”

“Azula,” you gasp quietly, and Zuko is quick to push you behind him and shield you from his conniving sister.

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asks gruffly.

“In my country, we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions,” Azula sneers. “Has surrounding yourself with...” she pauses, eyes glancing towards you, “poor company made you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “And don’t bring into her this.”

“I’ve come with a message from home,” she says casually. “Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home. Family are the only ones you can really trust.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the news, fingertips digging into Zuko’s bicep tightly in apprehension. Home? After all he put Zuko through he’s willing to let him back in just like that? Despite the news he says nothing, makes no move to react, and Azula finds his lack of response unnerving.

“Where’s my thank you?” Azula muses. “I’m not a messenger, I didn’t have to come all this way.”

You narrow your eyes slightly at the Princess when the words leave her mouth; yes, she didn’t have to come all this way, and knowing Azula she wouldn’t have for something so small and unworthy of her time. Why not send a messenger hawk or a soldier or anyone of lesser importance to retrieve Zuko and Iroh? Why send Azula? This whole thing isn’t sitting right with you, and your watchful gaze never leaves her even as she excuses herself for the evening and allows Zuko to mull over the news on his own.

“Father wants me home,” he murmurs quietly, and you and Iroh both exchange uneasy glances with each other.

“I’m going to find some dinner for the night,” you announce, but Zuko doesn’t even seem to hear you or notice your departure. There’s much to think about, and you’d like to do so alone.

The cherry blossoms aren’t as pretty as they had been in the morning, now seeming to loom over you tauntingly with the uncertainty of the future. Even if this wasn’t some sort of trick, you doubt you’d be welcomed with the same warmth Iroh and Zuko would be given. You were an outsider, a water bender, a threat, and a distraction to the Prince. You simply couldn’t see yourself living a life amongst the very same people who threaten the ways of your tribe. It would be wrong, and if you felt guilty now you’d feel utterly awful then. You love Zuko, but you aren’t about to willingly follow him and his sister back to the Fire Nation. After everything you’ve been through, this could be the end of your journey together.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve stuck around for this long,” Azula notes offhandedly as you pick through the fresh fruit of the local market.

“You know how much your brother means to me,” you reply calmly, refusing to let her play her little games with you. “But I know you don’t approve of me, and I know you’ll be happy to hear that I won’t be coming with him.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m going back to the Southern Water Tribe, and I’d appreciate it if you could take me there on your ship. I won’t be in your way and I’ll keep to myself, but if not I can find my own way.”

“Oh, I’d be happy to take you,” Azula replies with a glint in her eye. “After all, as Princesses we have to look out for each other.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmur, attempting to pay for your groceries only to have Azula wave you off and do so herself.

“I want you to enjoy your last meal with my brother,” she says with a snide smile. “Once he’s back home I’m sure ZuZu will forget all about you.”

“If that’s what you do want to believe,” you reply emotionlessly before turning to venture back home. You stop in your tracks as Azula calls after you, voice lilting with each syllable.

“You’re not the only girl who has her heart set on being with Zuko,” Azula informs you smugly. “My friend Mai has had her sights on him ever since we were children, and as the daughter of a very power politician I’m sure she’d have no trouble winning him over.”

Your shoulders tense slightly at the information but you don’t give Azula the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of you. Instead, you keep your gaze set straight ahead and let out a small breath of air.

“Thank you for the groceries, Azula,” you reply, then continue on your way home.

Dinner is a silent affair as you quietly pick at your noodles, and it’s only until Iroh leaves the two of you alone that Zuko speaks up.

“You’re upset about something.”

“No I’m not.”

“Your nose gets twitchy whenever you’re upset or troubled,” Zuko points out, and it’s times like these where you wish he didn’t know you as well as he did.

“I won’t be going with you,” you say after letting out a sigh.

“What are you talking about?” He replies with a furrowed bro.

“I know you’re going back home, and I’m not going to stop you from doing so. But I can’t go with you. I’m returning back to the Southern Water Tribe.”

“You can’t do that!” Zuko argues. “What about us?”

“There’s still the secret tunnel,” you remind him, “we can still see each other. I just think this is what’s best for us.”

“I thought you’d want to come with me,” Zuko murmurs dejectedly. “Don’t you want to stay with me?”

“I do. I really do. But do you honestly think I’d be welcomed in the Fire Nation?”

Zuko’s silence is enough of an answer for you to finalize your decision, and with a small sigh you rise from your seat at the table and collect the leftover dishes from dinner.

“I’ll come with you on the ship, but I want to be taken back home.”

Defeated, Zuko watches with a forlorn face as you walk out of the room to wash the dishes. It seems your journey together is coming to an end, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead troubles him greatly. He wants to return home, but he also wants to keep you by his side. What is he to do?

~~~

“We’re taking the prisoners home.”

You knew it was all just a dirty little trick; Azula was capable of anything, even turning in her own brother. It looks like you won’t be returning home any time soon, and neither will Zuko.

You fight off the Fire Nation soldiers alongside Iroh while Zuko handles his sister, using the vast ocean around you to your advantage as you topple men left to right. Thanks to Iroh you’re familiar with their movements and understand their approach, thus making it easier for you block and avoid their attacks before retaliating with your own.

With a final wave of water that washes them off the dock, the three of you are quick to run off as far as you can until your legs are too tired to carry on any further. You stop by a nearby stream, and only once you’re sure you’re safe do you stop to take a breath.

Zuko stares out at the water with a solemn expression on his features, and you watch in quiet admiration as both he and Iroh cut off their top knots. You know what this means, and you know how important and symbolic the action is to them both. Their ties with the Fire Nation have been severed, and there’s no going back now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer lamely, but Zuko still takes your hand in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“You shouldn’t be,” is all he says, and you watch quietly as his severed hair floats along the river.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #azula #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #fire lilies #forbidden lovers au #request

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years

Text

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [2]

A/N: First off, i would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support on part 1, it truly means the world to me <3 second, i am so sorry for the long wait but here we are! thank you for your patience you kind angels! Hope you guys like this as much as the first aha! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom realises what you two had and everything that he wasted. He realises he needed to fight for you and that he can’t lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right and have you back in his arms again or will it be too late?

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, a lot of crying from both persons, a bit of fluff but it’s flashbacks and typos?

Word Count: 14.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

NOTE: Flashbacks are in Italics

-:-:-:-:-

Where does Tom start?

Well, he can start with the fact that he's miserable. The fact that he's a disgusting piece of shit who deserves nothing but to be miserable, no less, maybe more.

You were so good to him, too good. You treated him more than he deserved. Even after what he did, even after he betrayed you, never did you treat him any less of man when in fact, he deserves to be treated like shit.

With a heart as kind as yours, when you showed him nothing but pure love, how could he have done what he did? A question so heavy as Tom asks himself as to why, but only ends up empty, it only ends up unanswered.

This makes him feel even more stupid. A downright disgrace given that he's ruined something so precious and special all for nothing, not even for something remotely worth it.

He could say he did it for sex, which is really rotten no matter the circumstance, doesn't make things better even by the littlest bit. But even then, it still wasn't worth it. He threw away so much just for sex? What a shallow reason to destroy such a beautiful relationship isn't it?

Quite frankly, nothing he will ever say will make things better. Not a single reason would justify the way he broke such a kind heart that gave him nothing but blissful happiness, gave him the truest forms of love.

The damage has already been done, he's already destroyed everything, hearts and trusts turned to nothing but fractured pieces.

Just how could he? How could he have done that to you?

You didn't deserve any of it.

All the times he's ignored you, made you feel unwanted. The countless times he's pushed you away and hurt you with his angry words. Hell, just the fact that he's made you feel like you weren't enough was a crime in itself.

Tom has been with you for three years, three fucking years, and during that time you had always been enough, more than enough. But that's the thing, realization and regret always comes last, always comes when it's too late.

You only realize just how much something is worth until you lose it.

It's been hours since you left, and Tom feels so utterly lost.

You we're his true north and now that you're gone, he was lost. Lost on where he'll go from here, lost on what to do, lost on who he's become.

A part of him knew he should've chased after you, but then what? He doesn't know what more he could say. He was still in deep doubt if he was fixing things or breaking it further if he continued to run his mouth. He at least needs to get his mind straight, get himself together or he'll say something that will make things even worse than it already is.

Tom sulked in bed right after everything, right after he heard that front door shut. He let himself drown in his tears and his regretful thoughts, both overwhelming him to the point that he passed out without even realizing.

Now, here he was, fully awake but still in bed. The sun was on its highest but Tom had no clue what time it was. With a broken phone, there was no way of telling unless he moves to grab a watch. But he doesn't really feel like moving. He just wants to rot in bed — or in hell as he rightfully deserves — and do absolutely nothing.

The whole house was eerily quiet and very cold, and he doesn't want to explore its state when he knows how it was coated with so much warmth before, your warmth. Was this how it felt for you when he doesn't come home? If so, then Tom feels even more of a shitty person than he already is.

But the world won't stop its course just to wait for him now won't it? So despite it all, Tom willed himself to get up and out of bed with a heavy heart, pushed himself to at least do the next right thing, whatever it may be.

Feet dragging against the tiled floor, Tom reached the living room with a broken sigh. His bloodshot eyes landed on the number of frames on top of the fireplace, photos upon photos of you and him, his frown deepening as the pain squeezed at his heart.

He walked over and took one in his hand, the one where Tom had an arm wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as both of you smiled wide and bright, the calming view of the Grand Canal just behind you as you explore the wondrous city of Venice.

The photo was taken by Harry during the shooting of Spider-Man: Far From Home, where you traveled with him and supported him from the first day to the very last.

It was such an innocent picture, mundane even, but so many memories came flooding inside Tom's mind with one simple look. And slowly but surely he was reminded how it used to be, how happy you both were just being together. Tom was reminded how special, how real it was, what you two had.

It doesn't even end with just the pictures, the whole house was a constant reminder too all the things he's wasted, all the beautiful things that made him feel nothing but pride and joy, utter euphoria to have such a wonderful woman in his life.

The whole house that was littered with all things you, from every room to every hall, from your precious laughter to the gorgeous sounds of pleasure that once bounced off the very same walls. Tom can still hear it, replaying inside his head loud and taunting to not let him forget each blissful memory that composed of you and him.

But now it's tainted by his blatant mistake, spoiled by his scandalous choices and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom wiped the tears that slipped down his cheek with the back of his hand. He brought the frame up to his shirt to rid of the droplets that coated the glass, returning it back gently, carefully in sheer fear that he'll break it if he wasn't cautious enough.

Tom knows he owes you countless amounts of apologies, and at least a proper closure. He wasn't going to let last night be the end of it all, he knows he needs to talk to you. He needs to answer whatever question you have, and tell you what he truly feels. He just knows that the demons in your head are relentless. In whatever way he can, he needs to appease your mind with nothing but honesty so that it won't eat you up from the inside out.

He won't be able to live with himself even more if he just leaves you to blame yourself for his choices. And he's not going to stop until it sticks with you that this was nowhere near your fault. This was all on him, and he has to make sure you understand that loud and clear.

So right after he's bought a new phone, he drove towards the only place he knows where you'll be.

***

"Come on guys, open up," Tom tried again, knuckles rapping at the wooden door for the tenth time.

He's been outside the twins' house for roughly fifteen minutes now, and it's either no one was home or they were ignoring him. He figured it was the latter for obvious reasons, and he was proven right when he heard rushed footsteps on the other side when he gave the door another knock.

"Go away Tom, I genuinely don't want to deal with you right now," Harry fumed, boiling anger evident in his tone, a dead giveaway that he was well aware of what had happened.

Did Tom really expect his brothers to be calm about it? No, not even by a little. If he fucks up, they're the first ones to put him back in his place. And now—well, now he fucked up very badly.

Too add to that, the boys care about you a lot. It's been such a heartwarming thing for Tom to see you grow close with them, to see them accept you as part of the family. He understands why they're angry at him and they have every right to be.

"I know she's in there. Just open up, please," Tom sighed, palm flat against the surface as he waits for the lock to click open. Harry scoffed at that, voice muffled due to the door that's still in the way. "She is, but what gave you the idea that she wants to see you?"

That stung, but Tom also can't say he was surprised. Hell, he can't even look at himself without grimacing, so he wasn't expecting any less from you. He wasn't expecting things to go smoothly at all with the weight of his actions.

"Look, I get why you're mad at me. But Harry please, I just need to talk to her," he begged, but still to no avail as his brother growled in response. "What part of 'she doesn't want to see you' do you not fucking get?"

Tom was running out of patience, especially now with his emotions all over the place as with his mind. It was crowded in his head, very loud and obnoxious, just pushing and poking until he felt his anger bubble slowly. And before he could stop himself and take a deep breath to stay calm, his voice boomed,

"Just let me in damn it!" Tom's fists hit the door harshly, his emotions overpowering him to the point where he's becoming rash with his actions. He wasn't frustrated at his brother by all means, he was frustrated at himself. After all, there was no other person to blame why everything in his life has gone to absolute shit.

"Oh go and fuck off!" Harry barked, just fuming at the fact that Tom had the audacity to show his face at his house and give him attitude.

"I'm your fucking brother!" Tom knew that was a bullshit come back but he tried it anyway, he'd try anything at this point, growing desperate with each passing second.

He just really needs to see you. He needs some sense of familiarity, someone to ground him back, someone who's going to tame his mind before he losses it completely. That someone has always been you, his sense of peace, his rock.

"Ah yes! Please do remind me Tom because that's the only thing stopping me from going out there to break your fucking teeth you asshole!" It was obvious that both brothers were now feeding off of each other's emotions, voices loud as they go back and forth, and it was only a matter of time before one explodes which well then make things take an awful turn.

"Jeez Harry, calm down for a second yeah?" Sam's voice interrupted before things start to escalate further. What Tom heard next was fairly inaudible, but he can picture the twins arguing, just hearing the exchange of muffled voices. Then a few seconds later —much to his surprise — Sam opened the door.

Tom met his brother's eyes, a breath of relief coming out of him. "Thank you Sa—"

"Don't thank me, this wasn't my decision," Sam said solemnly with a stoic look on his face, a dissatisfied tone in his voice that Tom was quick to catch. "She's waiting for you in the garden," his brother added, stepping out of the way to let Tom in. He locked with Harry's angry eyes on the way, Tom's frown deepening as he tries to say something, to basically apologise for yelling when he has no right to.

"Harry I—"

"Just fucking walk," his brother sneered, tone ice cold. All Tom could do was nod as he pressed his lips into a thin line, walking pass the twins with his head hanging low in shame. Though never did he miss — nor will he forget — Harry's death glare and Sam's disappointed gaze as he made his way towards the back door.

***

The loud bang on the front door and the yelling was what you woke u—no, the fact that the loud voice belonged to Tom was what woke you up.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for, and to be honest, you could still need a bit more.

Last night was still clear as day inside your head. Everything that had happened you remembered as detailed as it can possibly get, from you reading that text message to then running out the house and calling Harry to come pick you up. You knew fully well you weren't in the right state of mind to drive, and you were glad that he didn't mind at all.

Sam came with him, both sporting their worried looks once they pulled over and saw your state. Though they didn't ask any questions once you got inside the passenger's seat, neither pushed to give you air to breath, them only knowing that Tom did something terribly wrong by the way you were crying on the phone.

The three of you just drove around the city for a while, windows down with the music blaring to try and get your mind off of it as much as they can. Both ordered pizza and opted on eating in the car that was parked near the River Thames, looking out into the gorgeous view of the Tower Bridge as it shines its lights in the night. You talked about anything and everything but the elephant in the room—well, car.

You only poured everything out to them when you got back to their house. Full on balling on the couch as you try and form a coherent sentence on what just happened. First they were surprised, unable to believe that their brother could do such a thing. Then you saw the anger cross their features little by little, more so with Harry than Sam. You've traveled with Harry quite a lot, you were a little closer with the boy due to the time spent together, but not by much of course.

They offered you the guest room right after, said that you can stay for as long as you need to. They both were real sweethearts about it, and you owe them a lot for keeping you sane for those couple of hours. You couldn't stomach to imagine what you could've done if they weren’t there.

You thought you'd just let them handle Tom, to not come out of the room until he's gone. You have no idea what more you could say or do if you see him again face to face, especially when everything that has happened was only in a span of under twenty-four hours. You were still overwhelmed, a complete mess both physically and emotionally.

But when you heard just how angry Harry was and how Tom was close to reaching there as well, you couldn't just sit still and let the problem grow even bigger. You can't let yourself be the reason that would cause a tear in their relationship with each other. Because by the end of everything, they're still brothers no matter what.

So slowly, you got out of bed, treaded into the living room where you found Sam sat on the sofa. His leg was bouncing anxiously as he listens to his brothers argue, clearly torn on what was the right thing to do. You walked up to him with a small smile, surprise crossing his features once he saw you awake.

He quickly said that he'd try and talk to Tom and make him leave, assuming that you are uncomfortable with him around but you only shook your head no. You told him it's okay to let his older brother in and that you'll just wait in the back garden for whatever it is he wanted to talk about.

Although relunctant, Sam didn't question your decision further. He just pulled you in for a warm embrace before flashing you a reassuring smile and then walking towards the front door.

Once sat on the wooden bench that was right on the back porch, you kept your gaze steady on the greenery in front of you, back facing the house as you tried to clear your head as much as you can. Basically to organized your thoughts and emotions. The cold evening breeze was helping to calm your nerves, your eyes following the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of the bushes, the hum of the wind invading your ears in the most soothing way. It was a serene sight, so comforting, and slowly you felt yourself relax.

But the moment of peace was soon cut short, your eyes screwing shut once you heard the sliding door open and then close. His footsteps were light but the sound was already deafening for you, as if the rest of the world turned mute for you can only hear his shoes hitting the pavement, just ringing in your ears as you waited in anticipation.

Tom sat down beside you with a hold of his breath, heart aching once he saw your tear-stained cheeks, once he noticed how you kept your eyes tightly closed, purely refusing to look at him for even a split second.

His fingers started to fidget as nerves started to consume him. The action was also in a way to stop himself from reaching over to take your hand, to just feel your skin on his, because oh how much he's miss it, how much he's miss you.

He wasted a month of not holding you, of not getting to truly touch you, and he so badly wanted to pull you closer to him now, to make up with the time lost. But Tom wasn't going to push his luck, not going to over step boundaries because he wasn't in the place to make such decisions, not anymore. He knows that there were so little of both left that if he gets too near, he might end up pushing you farther away. He wasn't going to risk it.

On the way here, he's thought about all the things he was going to say to you. He repeated his speech over and over inside his head even though his words were a jumbled mess. It was something at least, a start. But now that he was seating here with you just a couple inches away, Tom's mind has gone blank. With the hundreds of words he's planned on saying, his lips could only let go of one.

"Y/N..."

You could pinpoint so many things with just the simple call of your name. The guilt, the longing, the regret, even the adoration, it was all there. Having known him for a while, you have gotten good at reading him, even if it's only from his voice, from the highs and lows to the different tones. But that was before, now, you weren't so sure if you actually ever knew him at all.

"What are you doing here Tom?" you asked softly, eyes opening with a sigh but still avoiding his at all costs. Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he kept his gaze trained on your beautiful face, smile gone and glow dimmed out, but still so beautiful in his eyes nonetheless.

With a deep breath, he spoke, "I-I came here to apologise, for everything. I know it won't do much but I'm not going stop saying how sorry I am. What I did was so fucked up and I am so sorry darling, I really am," Tom paused and waited for you to get a chance to respond. But when you kept looking forward, when you didn't even move a single muscle, he sighed before adding. "And I just need you to know that this is all on me, none of this is your fault, please keep that in mind Y/N. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

You nodded with a shaky breath, and as you gathered all the strength you could muster, slowly you turned to face him.

The look in your eyes only did nothing but sharpen the pain in Tom's chest. Your once joyful orbs were now bloodshot and full of hurt, all because of him. The more he stared into them, the guiltier he got. The weight of what he's done so evident in your gaze, reminding him of all the promises he broke, reminding him just how much he's broke you.

"Do you have feelings for her?" you asked after a few moments of silence, bottom lip trembling despite trying your best for it not to. Tom shook his head with a deep frown, "No, I don't."

He knew where this was heading. You were going to ask him the questions that's been nagging inside your brain, and Tom was going to answer each one with the truth, no second guessing, just pure honesty.

You shifted in your seat, clearing out the lump that formed in your throat before speaking. "Was she better than me in bed?" you trailed off.

Tom couldn't help but wince at the fact that you've thought about it. He felt so disgusted at himself for such an awful deed, so revolted for putting that image inside your brain.

"No. She doesn't compare to you. I'm so so late on realising this but she doesn't make me feel things the way only you can," he answered truthfully, but you looked away.

You just couldn't hold his gaze. To stare at those brown eyes you once called home, those eyes that used to make you feel safe, it's just a sharp stab at your heart knowing that those same eyes betrayed you. It took everything in your power to not break down, unable to think further about everything without bursting into endless tears, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Tom saw this, he saw it in the way you looked at him for that split second, how you just don't trust him anymore. And oh does it hurt, but what did he expect?

You picked at your fingers nails as you kept your head low, trying your hardest to hold yourself together, concealing everything in. But you were grasping onto broken pieces, your heart and mind all fractured, too fragile. The harder you try to keep them as one whole piece, the deeper the cuts you inflict on yourself.

And the picture of him with another woman, touching her in a way that he used to touch you, it feels so vile, an agonizing torture for your already broken heart, and you don't know how much more of the pain you can handle. You don't know how much more you can endure before everything finally falls apart and becomes too damaged to put back together.

But what if that was the right thing to do? What if it was needed to let everything fall apart, to loosen your grip on the broken pieces of yourself for the wounds to heal, for you to be able to start anew? Maybe all you need is for everything to break down completely so you can build them back up, stronger and better.

"She's more beautiful than me isn't she? Has a better body? More talented? She's simply just better than me?" you croaked, trying your best to keep it together. But you were almost there, almost at the point of just letting the whole thing go, to let every emotion come flooding out, the bad and the ugly.

"Fuck no," Tom protested, rubbing a palm across his face in anger, entirely directed at him for planting that thought inside your head in the very first place. He hates seeing you like this, so hurt and full of doubt for no other reason than because of what he did. Tom wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to take it in himself. He's the one who deserves to suffer, not you, never you.

With a deep breath, Tom tried to keep his emotions steady, gaze still set on you — despite it not being returned since you kept looking forward — his voice soft as he continued, "I know my words don't have any weight for you right now but believe me when I say that you will always be the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both on the outside and the inside, from your heart, to your mind and your soul. You are a gorgeous, wonderful and amazing woman Y/N. Please don't doubt that because of the stupid mistake I did."

The moment you locked eyes with him again, Tom's breath got caught in his throat. Your eyes coated with question, utter distress and seething anger, but the pain, God the pain, Tom can feel it sharp and deep in his bones.

Tears fell from your eyes as tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you just couldn't, with the all the different emotions boiling deep inside, you just couldn't.

"Then why Tom? Why?" you sobbed, Tom's heart shattering at the agonizing sound.

He sat straighter, eyes turning glossy but it never left yours, brown orbs boring into your own. "I-I wish I could give you a good enough reason why I did it but I really don't know. All I know is that I was stupid and it was a huge mistake. I realise that now, a little too late but I did. I took what we had for granted—I took you for granted, and I will always regret it until I die."

"You're just saying the things I want to hear." You shook your head with a soft whimper, breaking his gaze as you shut your eyes, enabling more tears run down and coat your cheeks.

"No darling, look at me," Tom croaked, taking the risk as he reached over to take both your hands in his, and you let him, no flinching, you let him touch you. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he gave it a squeeze, a silent way of asking you to look at him.

A shaky breath came out of you at the feeling of his warm skin, your tear-filled eyes meeting his own once again, seeing nothing but transparency as he spoke, "I haven't lied to you from the minute I sat here. It's hard to believe, I know. But I swear on Tessa's life I'm telling you the truth, every single word I've said."

Tom moved closer, fingers nervously fiddling with yours as he tried his best to keep his tears at bay. "I-I really do want you back. I want you to come back home, I want to hold you in my arms again but after everything I've done to you, I understand why that won't ever happen. And y-you deserve someone better, so much better than m-me," he choke back a sob, bottom lip trembling at his last sentence.

"You hurt me Tom, so bad," you whimpered, voice laced with so much agony, no more holding everything in as the strong façade you've been putting on crumbles.

To see you break down in front of him, your hands shaking in his grasp, nothing but utter pain coating the dips and valleys of your face, that was all it took for Tom to crack. His tears now streamed down his face, falling freely one after the other as his emotions came crashing through like a tidal wave.

"I-I know darling, I know and I'm s-so fucking sorry," he spluttered, feeling his throat close up as he tried to blink away the tears, to rid of his blurry vision so he can see you. He just wants to see you, cherish every second since he has no idea if there would be a next time after this.

Then delicately, Tom lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly, all adoringly before he placed it flat against his warm and damp cheek, leaning into your touch with a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry angel," he whispered, voice filled with pure regret and guilt.

You remained silent, still looking into his eyes but you kept still, not knowing where you'll go from here. But then Tom lets out a nervous sigh. "And I want you to know that I—" he cut himself off as cleared out his throat, eyes staring deep into your own before he spoke with absolute sincerity,

"I love you."

Your lower lip quivered with a soft cry, eyes closing as shook your head at him. "That's the first time you've said that to me since you came back home," you said, breath unsteady as you replay those three words inside your head.

Eight letters tied together giving you an overwhelming feeling. That's what it does when you haven't heard those words escape his lips in a long time. And oh how you missed it, you missed hearing him say it, but what did it cause for you to hear it again? Too much, way too much to the point that you were unsure if the words hold the same true meaning as before, doubtful if it meant anything at all or if he just casually threw it in there for the sake of it.

Tom nodded regretfully, letting go of your hand as he went to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly, your eyes opening at the feeling of his skin on yours. "And I wish I could've said it to you more often because I truly love you Y/N. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time I'd tell you over and over just how much you mean to me, how important you are in my life. I'd tell you every hour of every day just how much I love you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward until his forehead was now resting against yours. His proximity was intoxicating, the tips of your noses were almost brushing and you thought it would be too much, but it wasn't. You welcomed it, the feeling of being so close to him because after everything, his eyes still have the hold against you, Tom will always have a hold against you.

"I love you so much darling and I fucking hate myself for not showing you that enough, because you deserve nothing more than to know that you are loved, to feel that you are loved. And I am so sorry for failing you at both." he whispered, and with one look into his eyes, you knew he was being genuine, his voice was trembling but still, you can hear it, feel it inside you that he was being honest.

But was that enough to make you feel reassured? Was that all enough for everything to go back to the way it used to be?

No, it wasn't. It wasn't enough to let your heart win over your brain.

"I just need space to think, I'm sorry," you muttered softly as you pulled your face away from his grasp, letting out a small sniffle before crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, to hold yourself in a way. Tom felt his whole chest ache, but he didn't protest. He lets you go despite not wanting to.

"No, it's okay love and I completely understand. I wasn't expecting you to just jump back in my arms when I came here. I just really needed to say all of these to you." Tom shot you a small, broken smile before he lowered his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

Silence hung in the air for a few hellish seconds, turning awkward, deafening with each tick. And when you didn't say another word, Tom took that as a sign, took it upon himself to draw a conclusion.

"Uhm—yeah, I-I think this is my cue to leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his place, giving you one last glance to see you only spare him a nod, eyes looking anywhere but at him. With a defeated sigh, he started to walk away, but before he could reach the door, your voice stopped him.

"Tom wait—"

He immediately spun around with hopeful eyes to see you on your feet, already facing him with a small frown. Tom was ready, eager to run to you, to hear the words he so desperately need, to kiss you with all that he has as you take him back. But just as how quick he built that hope up, it was slapped away in an instant when you spoke again.

"Can you pack my stuff up for me please? I-I can't—I don't think I can go back at the house," you breathed out, eyes meeting his as you shifted from one foot to the other. "Just my clothes and toiletries, you can throw the other stuff away."

Tom's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The thought of you unable to go back to the house, your home, it was heartrending but there was no other person to blame for that. He searched your eyes, tried to read any hesitation on your face, because he can't accept it. He can't bear to fathom the thought of getting rid of each trace of you in the house. Tom won't be able to handle it because it feels like the final nail on the coffin, after it's done then there's nothing more to go back to.

But when he saw nothing, when he saw that you do in fact mean it, that it is what you want, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Anything you need love."

You nodded somberly, "Just leave it in the front porch and I'll get it once you're done."

No more words were said after that, Tom unable to slip in a response as you turned your back on him. And with a gloomy sigh, he pulled the door open and went back inside the house.

The moment he reached the living room, the twins both stood up from their places on the couch, both sporting worried looks as they watched their older brother walk with his head hanging low.

"Uhm, thank you for looking after her and I'm really sorry," Tom said as met his brother's eyes. The boys saw a glimpse of what happened outside, and by the look on Tom's face, they knew that their brother deeply regrets what he's done. If anything, he needs them more now, and what harm will it do when they cut him some slack? Tom was already beating himself up black and blue, he doesn't need more of it from everyone else, especially the ones he truly cares about.

Sam was the first to approach him, a sympathetic smile plastered on the lad's lips as he gave him a comforting hug, a loving pat on the back before moving out of the way. Harry came into view next, hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily as he said, "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier." Tom shook his head at him with a faint smile. "It's fine Harry. I deserved it."

His brother tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, moving closer to pull Tom in for a warm embrace. "Take care of yourself," Harry muttered. Tom lets out a shaky breath as he gave his brother a squeeze.

"I'll try."

***

It was so hard packing your stuff up. The fuller your bags got, the heavier Tom's heart grew. And it took him so long to get it done because he just needed to take a breather in between, the ache in his heart overwhelming him to the point that he can't stop his tears from free flowing.

On a slightly brighter note, he does have a sweet girl to comfort him, a precious staffy who'd lay her head on his lap whenever she hears him stifle out a few tears.

Tessa was supposed to stay with his parents for a couple more days, but Tom couldn't endure being alone in the house. So, he cut her little vacation short and stopped by at their house on his way home right after you two had the talk. Tom told them what had happened, disappointed looks unavoidable but they still gave him a much needed comfort and a few heartfelt advice, and for that he was grateful.

He drove home and went straight to bed right after, tried to get some sleep but struggled to say the least. But after a few doses of alcohol and a couple more tears, exhaustion took over him eventually.

Now it was midday, the rays of the sun shining through the bedroom windows, wrapping the space with warmth but Tom wasn't mirroring the mood, the clear blue sky unable to lift his spirits up.

He was sat on the floor of your shared closet, eyes trained on the already empty shelves. He stared at it for a couple seconds before his gaze fell right beside him where your suitcase was situated, now filled and entirely full.

Tom blew out his cheeks as he reached over to zip it up, the sound unpleasant to his ears, unbearable that his eyes screwed shut to keep the tears in. His head was already pounding; he figured crying some more wasn't going to help.

After a few calming breaths, he felt something nudge at his arm, lids shooting open to see Tessa with a stuffed animal in her mouth. "What have you got there?" Tom asked sweetly as he took the toy from her grasp, heart aching once he saw what it was.

He looked back at Tessa with a small smile. She's a clever girl but Tom just knows the dog was properly confused as to why he was packing her mummy's stuff up.

It pained him to think about it, that he would have to try and explain to her why you'd be no longer around. Tessa loves you quite a lot, absolutely attached that the pup tends to look for you first each time she's back in the house, a jab at Tom's ego but he adores it nonetheless. Hell, she explored each room when they got back last night, a soft whine coming out her once she didn't find you. And now to come and reflect that you two were going to be separated all because of him, it's just an addition to the guilt that was already filling him up to the brim.

Tom pulled her close to his side lovingly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered on her skin with every ounce of remorse,

"I'm so sorry princess."

***

As he sat on the steps of the front porch, Tom's heart and mind were running a hundred miles per second. Your packed up things were sat on his left while Tessa laid flat by his right. The sweet girl still had no clue why they were outside, just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. But Tom was in much need of some company, and she's always happy to give him that.

He'd sent you the text few minutes ago, saying that it was all done and ready to be picked up. It did cross his mind that he wasn't going to do it, that he'll just keep your stuff here so you won't be able to leave, but that's just downright cruel, selfish and disgusting, so he quickly shut the thought down. Now he was left to wait anxiously, fingers picking at the fabric of the stuffed animal that Tessa lent him earlier.

It wasn't long after when a familiar car pulled up into the driveway, his heart hammering even more at the sight of the vehicle. Tom stood from his place with a shaky breath, dread slowly seeping through his skin at the mere thought that it genuinely was happening. That you were really leaving and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

Tessa perked up when you and Harry came out of the vehicle, the pup not wasting any time as she bolted straight towards your direction. You crouched down to greet her with open arms, a small giggle escaping your lips when Tessa showered you with her kisses.

Tom's heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of adoration spreading in his chest, but only lasting for a split second as it was quick to be replaced by one with grief. His heart felt like it was getting torn out of his chest at that thought that he might not be able to see this wholesome interaction ever again.

You walked over to the front porch with an unreadable look on your face, Tessa trailing right behind sporting a wide smile as she kept her gaze on you, tail at an all-time wag, still oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey," was all that Tom managed to get out, his heart warming a little at the sight of you, but ached the moment he noticed your puffy face, bloodshot eyes meeting his as you flashed him a faint smile. "I'm taking my car on the way back, so uhm, I think I left the keys inside," you explained, fingers nervously fiddling at the hem of your hoodie.

Tom frowned at that, but he already knew you weren't stepping inside anytime soon. You did ask him to pack your stuff up for that sole reason. To add to that, he also kind of expected that you were going to say that too, so he fished your car key from his pocket and handed it to you.

"I saw it laying on the counter so yeah," Tom trailed off, eyes still set on you as you took the key from him with a slight frown, and when he saw this he panicked. "Fuck, this looks I'm kicking you out or that I'm looking forward to you leaving and came prepared. I'm not. I figured that you would take your car too that's why I have the keys prepared, not because I want you to go, because I really don't want you to go," he rambled before he could even stop himself.

You stared at him for a full second or two, contemplating on what to say — or if you should even say anything at all — but with much thought, not wanting to say the wrong words, you opted on staying silent as you only nodded at him with a hum.

"I think this is everything," Tom cleared his throat to fill up the silence, cheeks all warm and red as he gestured towards your bags. "If I forgot something just let me know," he offered shyly.

You were about to move, to take your things and get this over and done with but before you could even do so, Tom spoke again. "And uhm, I don't know if you wanted to keep him but—" Tom revealed a very familiar stuffed panda from behind him, holding it out for you to take—or not—with a nervous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the toy, frown unconsciously deepening as you took it from his hands.

It was the stuffed panda he won for you during your first date at a carnival. You remember it vividly, his grin wide and proud, eyebrows wriggling as he offered you it with a curtsy. Such a memorable night filled with hearty laughs, screams from terrifying rides, clouds of cotton candy and a handful of friendly competitions. The night then ended with him dropping you back home, and as cliché as it can be, with a sweet goodnight kiss at the front of your door, leaving you both smiling like idiots as he drove away.

After that night you had a feeling that there was something special about this boy. And months down the line, you realised you were right as he was quick to snatch your heart without much effort.

You'll always cherish that day, the simpler times as some would say, and the very panda you held in your hands now was a huge reminder of that. Was there any harm in keeping it? You're not sure. The memory does fill you up with genuine happiness, but then the pain follows soon after as you're reminded that it was once like that. The thought that the memories wouldn't be added with more, it hurts, deeply.

But as you looked at the toy again, you don't have the heart to throw it away. You don't have the strength to give it back either, so you held it closer to your chest as you looked back up to see Tom already staring at you in a certain way, a slight gloss coating his brown orbs.

That's when you knew he thought about the same thing too, remembered that same night, that same exact memory. You both held each other's gaze with such intensity, a slight hint of longing in each other's eyes. There were still so many words left unsaid, you both saw that. But neither of you spoke, neither of you dared to move a muscle.

The tension in the air only grew from there, almost turning awkward. That until Tessa nudged at your leg, making you break eye contact with the man in front of you to look at the pup with a curios yet sad smile. You were unsure if you're going to see her precious face again, and gosh it stings. She's your baby too and in no way do you want to leave her, but sometimes the right decisions requires a bit of sacrifice.

"Spend some time with her. Harry and I will take care of your stuff," Tom spoke as he gave you a reassuring smile, already knowing what's going through your head with just a simple look in your eyes.

You gave him a thankful nod, your own lips curving up and Tom felt his heart melt. It was small, didn't reach your ears by all means, but it's genuine, the warmest smile you've given him since everything that has happened.

With one last look at you, Tom took as much of the bags he can carry and made his way towards Harry, who was leaning on his car with his phone in hand. When the lad heard Tom approach, he smiled, helping him set the bags on the floor before pulling him in for a warm hug.

"You look like shit by the way," Harry joked as pulled away and went to open the boot of the car. Tom scoffed playfully at that. "Thanks bro, feel like it too."

Harry tilted his head at his older brother, hand coming up to give his shoulder a squeeze, making Tom meet his eyes. The brothers shared a smile, Harry not needing to say anything for Tom already knew what he was trying to say, that Harry is there for him, as he always is.

"How is she?" Tom asked softly, continuing the task at hand of loading your things in the car. "Still the same," Harry sighed sadly.

The older brother lowered his head with a deep exhale, just utter guilt filling him up from head to toe. His eyes were now staring at the last bag set on the ground, tears welling up again as reality starts to creep on him.

"Hey, she's a strong girl. She'll be okay. You both will be," Harry reassured and all Tom could do was nod. He wasn't sure if was going to be okay after all of this, his future blurry without you in it. But a brave face he can manage, taking in a deep breath as he placed your last a bag in the boot.

He looked back at the front porch to see you sat on the top step, both hands cupping Tessa's face as your lips moved. Tom could make out the glisten on your cheek, the light of the sun reflecting against it, chest heaving in a way that's had your hands slightly shake. He watched you pull Tessa in for a hug, your eyes screwed shut as you placed a loving kiss on top of her head, the pup giving you one big lick on the cheek once you pulled away, her way of returning the gesture.

Tom's heart took at big swing at the sight, a shaky breath coming out of him as he kept his eyes steady on his two favorite girls, bidding their goodbyes despite not wanting to, but having no choice because of the horrible things that he's done.

He caught his sniffle with a clear of his throat, quickly wiping away the tear that managed to slip with the back of his hand as you stood from your place and made your way towards them. Tessa was following you still, demeanor now different as she looked at your figure with a tilt of her head, almost with a frown.

She was definitely still a bit confused, but Tom has a feeling that she knows what was going to happen, and he will definitely have to hold onto her when you... when you leave.

"Everything ready?" you asked, voice a bit hoarse with the obvious tear lines on your cheek but neither boys said anything about it. "Yeah, good to go," Harry answered when his brother stayed quiet. Tom's eyes elsewhere just so he won't become a balling mess yet again.

"Okay, uhm thanks Tom." His head shot up at the mention of his name, flashing you a forced smile with a curt nod to match.

He tried keep at it his silence as he watched you walk to your car, just knowing his emotions would betray him the moment he opens his mouth. Plus, he genuinely doesn't want to make things harder for you again for putting more things in your head to think about. But the moment you opened the door to your car, he couldn't stop himself, he knew he needed to say something.

"Y/N wait—" Tom called out, walking closer towards you, though when you turned back around to face him, he hesitated. He contemplated if it was worth a shot, if he should at least try and ask. But when he took in your frown up to your glossy eyes, the glow and joy on your skin all faded, he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom instead, not the same words that were stuck on the tip of his tongue, not the words that his brain wanted to scream into the open.

"You too," you mumbled, quickly getting inside your car, making Tom miss the expression that crossed your face. The car door slamming shut followed by the silent roar of the engine, drowned out the shaky breath you let out, eyes never meeting his again.

There was a simple question not asked. A question that could make things turn around, make this day have a better outcome, but Tom didn't dare to spit it out. He held himself back thinking that it was for the best.

He crouched down to take a strong hold of Tessa's collar as the two cars backed out of the driveway. The pups heartbreaking whines filled Tom's ears, the sound making his tears run down his cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

There were still words were left unsaid, but there was nothing more he can do with them now as Tom watched your car disappear down the street, eyes steady on the vehicle until the only thing left to see was the skid marks of the tires of your car on the pavement, a reminder that you were once here but may never return again.

***

A week has passed and Tom wasn't feeling any better. If anything, his life just turned shittier with each day gone without you in it.

The house was a complete mess, more so his bedroom with all the crap that's lying around. Said crap ranging from bottles of alcohol – some empty, some half-full – the broken glasses he has yet to pick up, dirty and clean clothes mixed up on the floor, up to the random food wrappers that decorated the area.

Hell, he hasn't even taken a shower in days, that's the state he was in right now. Tom also had to ask his mum to pick Tessa up a couple days ago, given the fact that he can't even take care of himself. Plus, he didn't want to stress the poor girl with him constantly being down in the dumps and more.

Long story short, he was a broken mess, both physically and emotionally. And the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far away where Tom doesn't even believe if it's there to begin with.

But despite wanting to rot in bed for maybe another week or two, to drown in his self-pity basically, he received a few emails that were too important for him to simply shove aside.

So, an hour-long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later — and a few pain relievers to help with his headache — Tom made his way outside his room only to look for his computer. Once he found it just on top of the coffee table, he held it in his hands and went straight back to the bedroom.

He couldn't bear to stay outside with the sun shining all bright, especially with it accompanied with the clear blue sky. The beautiful day just makes him feel bad about everything, makes him feel worse about himself. Tom felt more comfortable staying inside the bedroom where the curtains were all closed, the space dark and gloomy to match his mood.

Plopping back down on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, he placed the computer on his lap, taking in a tired breath before turning it on. Much to his surprise, he stared right at a photo of Tessa and him, confusion filling him up at the sight of the lock screen because that wasn't what he set it as. His lock screen was of you and Tessa, not him.

Sure enough when he tilted the laptop up, there he saw your initials written on the bottom surface. A frown made its way onto his lips as he realised that he might have given you his computer instead.

You two have the same computer and the only way to tell which one was who's without seeing the contents, was by the initials on the bottom. And just as cheesy as it can get, you were the one who wrote his initials while he wrote yours. Kind of like an autograph, hence why Tom was staring right at his handwriting, as if it wasn't obvious enough that this was in fact your computer.

At the time you both thought it was just cute and silly, a simple gesture for couples in love. Never did it cross Tom's mind that day that looking at it would bring hurt. But now it does, the gesture turned into remembrance, a mere memory of what it used to be.

He was a mess when he packed your things up. It wasn't unlikely that he missed to check which computer he gave to you. But what confused him was that a week has passed yet you hadn't contacted him, nor did you ask the twins to fetch it for you if you still can't bear to see him again.

It could've been that you haven't noticed yet or could've been something else. Tom has no way of knowing as he hasn't spoken to you since. He does know you're still staying at the twins' house courtesy to Harry, but that's about it.

He was about to reach for his phone to contact said lad but he accidentally pressed on the keys, screen now showing your desktop. Tom frowned with a shaky breath, a picture of you two on the beach glaring right at him. But what caught Tom's attention more was a certain folder, the name too long that he had to click it to show the rest.

B-ideas (If by any chance you're Tom please do not open this folder you're gonna break my heart if you do bub)

That only perked his curiosity even more. And given that he's already broke your heart due to something far worse, he double-clicked it to open. What more could he lose?

Tom felt a sharp stab at his chest as he scrolled through countless amounts of photos of different kinds of cakes, certain venues, and lovely decorations.

B-ideas... Birthday ideas.

He screwed his eyes shut, hand going up to pinch the bridge in utter frustration. First it was your relationship with Tessa, even his family for that matter, and now his birthday. What else did he ruin? Well, aside from the obvious anyway. How many times will he have to be reminded about all the things that are affected due to his mistake? Not enough apparently.

You always loved to plan his birthdays for him. He adored how you always get so excited to ask him a few things or when you keep it a secret as much as possible for it to be a surprise. You've made him the happiest boy every birthday. You make him feel even more special and he was glad to have you by his side each time. But now, he's ruined it by a long shot and his birthdays will never be the same.

As he reached the bottom, Tom found another folder within the folder named: For Slideshow (Gift)

Tom dared to open it as well, the pain in his heart only magnifying at the sight of old photos and videos of you and him. There were a few from all around the world — during the whole press tour to be specific — but most of it was just here in London or right at this very home.

You always went the sentimental route when it comes to his gifts. 'You can buy anything you want now,' as you've said. And despite him telling you that he won't care where you got it from – whether it from Tesco's or whatever – as long as you're the one giving it, then he will cherish that gift with all his heart. But of course, you just had to go the extra mile by making sure it was handmade by you. Whether it's a handwritten letter, a collage, or whatever cute thing it may be, you have never failed to make him emotional with each one, a tear or two shed every birthday.

It looked like you were going for a video compilation this year judging by the name of the folder and the contents of said folder—well, what you were supposed to do but it's not happening now, is it?

It was such a trip down memory lane, just photos upon videos, mostly candid, some intentional jump-scares and a few cheesy yet funny ones sprinkled here and there. The one video that caught his eye first though was the one where it had you and him kissing on the thumbnail.

Tom recognized it right off the bat. He remembers that day clearly to this moment. It was from the set where Harry filmed Roses for Lily, where you and Tom helped with all the little things. And his assumption was proven right when he pressed play...

"And that's a wrap everyone!" Cheers erupted around the field followed by applause as Sam and Sophie took a playful bow.

"Connect it to the speaker and play it on my cue," Tom whispered against Harry's ear, confusion crossing the younger lad's face before Tom jerked his head towards you. Harry shook his head at his brother but took his phone anyway, getting so used to his cheesy ass antics.

This wasn't your greatest week regarding work and school, even more so today. So, Tom thought head lift your spirits up in the cheesiest yet sweet way he can managed.

You were talking with Nikki when Tom suddenly came up to the both of you with an expression that you didn't quite read, hands behind his back as he stood with immense posture.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh no, what are you up to?" you asked suspiciously.

"Will you do me the honour of granting me this dance mi lady?" Tom offered his hand with a curtsy, voice sporting the most posh accent he can muster with a cheeky smile plastered on those pink lips.

You shook your head with laughter at your boy. You turned to look at the woman who you were having a conversation with, only to see her give you two thumbs up with a wide smile, and with that, your gaze landed back on Tom sporting a smile of your own.

"Pleasure is all mine kind sir." You mimicked his accent and took his hand, fits of giggles coming out of you as Tom dragged you towards the front of the bench, the view of the field endless behind you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours as his other hand took home on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder, just like a proper ballroom dance. "We don't even have music you dork," you pointed out the obvious, to which Tom only grinned all proud.

"Says who?" He shot Harry a nod and not long after the soft tune of 'The Way You Look Tonight' by Frank Sinatra filled your ears.

You threw your head back as you let out a loud yet hearty laugh. "You're a huge cheese ball aren't you?" you teased.

"Oh please, you love it," Tom flashed you a knowing smirk as he then starts to swing to the tempo of the music. He guided you with gently care as he spins you out and then pulls you back in again, his background in dancing making it easy for him to lead the dance.

And you always admire this talent of his, adored it with all your heart as you break out to random dances – may it be silly or slow – around the house whenever to whatever music. It was not new to you so you can easily follow his rhythm having dance with him before. Plus, the steps were simple enough for you to catch. And having known each other for a long while, it was easy for the two of you to move in sync.

But then he started to sing, and that caught you off guard.

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm; and your cheeks so soft; there is nothing for me but to love you; and the way you look tonight."

You can't stop your grin from growing at his sweet voice, heart warm as you stared right into those beautiful brown orbs. Tom doesn't sing much often, not seriously anyway. But when he does, it makes your heart melt ten times over and then some, because the boy can definitely sing.

"Am I wooing you darling?" Tom cooed with a wriggle of his eyebrows, earning yet another laugh from you. And with him being all cheeky with his timing, you didn't get to respond as he continued to sing,

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose; Touches my foolish heart," Tom sang with a cheeky wink, the smile on your lips ever growing that your cheeks we're starting to hurt, but you could care less.

"Lovely, never, never change; keep that breathless charm; won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you; just the way you look tonight,"

He kept singing, not for but to you, dedicating each word, meaning each note that the smile on your lips was impossible to wipe off. Not to mention the simple yet lovely dance, bodies swaying sweetly to the music, it was just like a scene from a movie.

Tom twirled you around courteously, pulling you back closer to him that had both your arms resting over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around your form, noses delicately touching as you two mirrored each other's eyes, nothing but the look of love coating them.

And when you nudged his nose adorably, Tom chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaning closer until his lips captured yours in a charming kiss. A kiss so blissful that your hearts were filled with nothing but warmth, spreading from head to toe as you kept dancing to the slowly fading music.

Both of you were unaware that Harry recorded the whole thing, making the little dance, the sweet gesture as pure and raw as it can be. Just two couples in love, cherishing each other's company, adoring one another with everything that they have...

Tom lets out a strangled breath as the video stops, trembling fingers hovering over the space bar as he stared at the still of you, warmly wrapped in his arms, absolutely content, delighted and purely in love.

Next thing he knew, Tom found himself watching videos upon videos of you and him, endless clips that showed just how happy you two were, how happy you made him. Each video showed him the way you use to glow, smile bright as day while your eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, a blissful expression on your face and oh how stunning it looks on you. Pure happiness suited you so much and Tom took that away. He took away your shine; he snuffed out that radiance you always bring whenever you're in the room.

He only decided to stop when Tom felt his chest tighten harshly, breath turning uneven as his eyes started to burn. He was about to close the laptop, to set it aside and give himself a breather, but then he saw another one with a thumbnail that has only you in it. Despite being too emotional, despite deciding that the torture was enough, his curiosity was stronger. So, he played it...

"...right, is this recording? Yup, it is, okay."

You sat back on the chair after you adjusted the camera – which Harry kindly let you borrow – on the little desk you had in yours and Tom's shared bedroom. "It's a little too early to make a video message since your birthday is months away but I've got nothing better to do so," you trailed off, adjusting your hair before sitting up and smiling at the lens.

"To the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armour, to my handsome prince," you paused with a scrunched of your nose. "Oh gosh too cheesy. Okay, reel it back, whew, okay, Thomas, spider-boy—well, more like spider-baby..." You let out a laugh at that, shaking your head at yourself before taking in a deep breath and looking back straight at the camera.

"To the absolute love of my life, Tom, happy birthday. Oh now, where do I start? Well, I can start with how proud I am of you. The fact that you've achieved so much in so little time? I couldn't be any prouder. You're the most hardworking man I know, it's not really a surprise how you got to where you are today. But despite all the accolades, the awards you've won — and soon to win — there's always one award, well two actually that's far more important than the rest. First one is you-being-such-an-incredible-human award. You, Tom have the kindest most compassionate heart I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I could list so many great things but then we'd be here all day, just ask me it later and I'll send it to you in post," you giggled. "But trust when I say that you are a true hero, even without the mask."

"And well, the second award, oh gosh, it's the best-boyfriend award. Forgive my cheesiness — although you do like it — but it is in fact true. You, Thomas, you make me the happiest girl ever. I—oh no here comes the water works," you joked, fanning your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. And when you felt like you can hold it together, you continued,

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You've always been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't think I could've made it pass things without you Tom and for that thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin. For being my shoulder to cry on when I really need one, for being such a great listener and for being my rock. Thank you for helping me through the hardest times bub," you paused to take a deep breath, eyes glossy but with a proud smile on your lips nonetheless.

"...granted our relationship isn't perfect, we've had our disagreements and petty fights but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I wouldn't trade you for the world, Tom. I am happy to be with you, so content with what we have. We've laughed together, cried together, we've grown together, and as promised, we're going to be there for each other, always." you let out a soft giggle to try and clear the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep it in, though it already obvious in your eyes that you weren't going to be successful.

"And lastly... I love you so much Tom. My heart could literally exploded with just how much, and I just want you to know that whatever it takes, whatever challenge life will hurl at us, whatever happens in the future, I will always, truly, with all that I am, lov—"

"Darling? Where are you?" Tom's voiced echoed down the hallway, halting your words as you turned your head towards the door. With a sweet laugh, you look back to the camera. "You and your impeccable timing Thomas."

You quickly wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes, making sure you don't look suspicious to not ruin the plans of surprise.

"Sweetheart?" Tom called out again.

"Bedroom babe!" you answered, taking in deep breaths before reaching for the camera. "I'll finish this later I guess. I'll see you—well in a couple seconds but future you sometime soon, love you!"

And with a blow of a kiss, you turned the camera off...

The whole bedroom turned eerily quiet as the screen turned pitch black. Almost quiet aside from the soft tap, tap, tap – the sound of Tom's tears hitting the computer keys, one after the other.

Tom stifled out a whimper as he screwed his eyes shut, hand coming up to tug at his hair in anger, sorrow, regret, hurt. You were good to him, you were everything to him and more. How could he waste that? He lost someone so rare, someone who's out of this world from beauty to heart. No one could ever replace you, nobody will ever come close to how much of an amazing person you are, how special and lucky you made him feel.

He had everything, and he threw that away.

As he tried to catch his breath, he reached for his phone, dialing the number of the only person who'd give him comfort but without all the bullshit.

"Hey Harrison, I know you’re probably still disappointed with me right now too but I just really need someone to talk to..."

***

"...and then I found this folder of hers that has all these ideas for my birthday. It even had old photos and videos of us but what struck me the most was her video message and I just—" Tom stopped to catch his breath, wiping away the tears on his face before he looked up a Harrison with a soft sob, "I ruined so much."

"You did," the lad answered bluntly, no sugar coating, no bullshitting. He wasn't going to say the words that his friend wanted to hear, if he kept doing that then how will he learn?

Tom buried his face in his hand in shame, sniffing loudly before lifting his head up again, face all puffy as he met his best friend's eyes with his bloodshot ones. "I miss her so much Haz, and I really want to fix things between us, to have her back. But I don't have a chance anymore."

Harrison frowned at that. He knows the full scope of the situation, but he doesn't recall you saying those exact words, well, as what Tom has explained to him anyway. "Did she say you don't have a chance anymore or did you just put words into her mouth?"

You didn't. You haven't told him those exact words, but your actions were an enough sign right? Tom leaned back on the couch, hand running through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "She told me to pack up her things, I think that's a clear message that it's over," he grumbled.

Harrison shook his head at his friend disapprovingly, "Tom, she has been fighting for your relationship for more than a month and you're already giving up in a week? After what you've done, I think you need to fight harder than that mate. Put more effort in, you owe at least that to her."

Tom frowned at his words, guilt growing more intense as the gears started to turn in his head. Did he really give up that easily? Could he have done so much better? If he asked you to sta—

But then the nagging voice was quick to shut down his questions. A certain reason why he feels like he can do nothing about it grew louder in his mind, said reason he felt the need to speak out loud.

"She deserves someone better than me Haz. I broke her heart and I—" Tom rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't think I deserve another chance," he concluded in defeat.

Harrison sighed, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder before he began. "Okay look, there are only two paths you can choose regarding this. Path one, you can mop around, drown in your pity party and just give up with everything like a fucking wuss. Or path two, you can get off your ass, thrive to be better, right your wrongs and be the man that she deserves. You have to fight for her if you truly want her back Tom. It's just a matter of choice," Harrison finished as he shot him a knowing look.

"I think you've been so busy telling yourself that everything is too late, but what if it's not yet? You think it's too late, but is it actually too late for her? What if she just needs more persuasion? What if she just needs a proper reassurance that you're going to make things right? For you to truly show her that you do in fact still love her? All I'm saying here Tom is that you won't know the answer to these questions unless you ask them, unless you give them a try. We don't get what we want easily, you have to work hard for it." Harrison added.

Tom stared at his best friend in pure shock and amusement given that he's never heard him sound so wise with advise before. They usually do stupid shit together, and when it comes to relationships, they both can be as equally as clueless.

But nevertheless, Tom felt like his eyes got opened, a new perspective settling in his mind and he will be forever grateful at Harrison for that.

"Fuck you're right." Tom didn't waste any more time as he got up from his place and went to go get his keys. Harrison sat there bewildered, calling out to Tom again when he saw him go towards the front door, "Where are you going?"

Tom turned to his friend with a small yet hopeful smile, the most he's felt in a while, "I'm getting her back."

***

Sam looked at his brother in complete surprise once he pulled the door open, "Tom what are yo—" the lad cut himself off once he saw Tom's face, clear in his expression who he was looking for.

"She didn't tell you," the twin muttered with a frown, his sudden change in demeanor making Tom worry. "Didn't tell me what Sam?" he asked cautiously. Tom thought he already prepared for the worst, thought that he can handle any sort of rejection, but when his brother spoke again, all the color drained out his whole body.

"Harry drove her to Heathrow thirty minutes ago."

It took a few seconds for Sam's statement to finally sink in. And when it did, Tom cursed as he quickly turned on his heel and ran, heart pounding, head spinning.

"Tom, wait!"

Sam didn't get a chance to stop him as he was already back inside his car, engine roaring as he veered into the road at top speed. He was driving dangerously, Tom was aware of that, but he can't let you step even a toe in that plane. If he does, then it will really be too late.

***

"Come on Harry, pick up, pick up, come on lad pick u—Harry! Which terminal?" Tom asked in haste, fingers drumming against the wheel impatiently.

"Huh? Terminal?"

"Bro, I beg, just tell me which terminal you dropped her off, please." Tom heard Harry sigh on the other line, his anxiousness growing with each silent second, and when his brother gave him the information, he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Terminal 2... She's off to Abu Dhabi."

***

Tom's lungs were gasping for air, both from him running as fast as he can, and from the fear that was overwhelming him to every bone. Fear that he might not catch you on time.

The crowded airport wasn't helping his anxious state at all, his eyes quick to dart around as he tries his best to look for you. He asked around, looking like a lunatic as he shows your picture to random strangers. He even asked at the desk just to narrow where you could've gone, to make it easier to find you in this huge haystack. And when he hadn't had much luck, Tom was quick to assume that you already got pass security.

It may had been dumb, but everything he's done at this point has been dumb, what's the worst thing that could happen if he tried to get pass the guards?

But before he could even attempt and sneak his way in, a large, tall man blocked his way. "Boarding pass?"

Tom shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, mind an utter mess that it was hard for him to think straight, "I-I don't have... it's an emergency please I–"

"Sir, you're not allowed inside if you don't have a ticket," the security reprimanded, hand held up as he stops Tom's chances of slipping by. He's an idiot really, thinking that he can talk his way through, but he tried it anyway, begged in desperation just so he can find you before you get on that plane. "Please just let me through, it will be quick, I just need to—"

"Tom?"

Never had he ever turned around so quick in his life, relief washing over him once he saw you standing there, bottle of water with a receipt in hand, confusion written all over your face at the sight of him.

Tom just ran straight towards you, his burly body almost knocking you out of balance as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, arms engulfing you tightly, like he's holding onto you for dear life. Tom's whole body shaking as he balled his eyes out, a stuttering mess when he tried to speak to say the least.

"N-no, p-please don't leave me, I-I can't—I can't do this without you, p-please don't leave," Tom sobbed against your skin, his hold around you vise-like but just enough for it not to hurt. He's just downright scared to loosen his grip for you might vanish into thin air if he does.

You tried to pull him off of you but a useless effort as he is much stronger than you. And the harder you try, the firmer his grip on you becomes, muttering his protest over and over of him not wanting to let go. You sighed, "Tom, look at me, bub..."

Tom lets out a whimper at the nickname, pulling away just slightly until he was able to rest his forehead against yours, his warm tears dropping on your cheek and your heart stung at the feeling.

"Breathe for me," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands. Your thumb caressed his cheek tenderly, wiping away the tears that ran down them as much as you could. Tom did as told, attempting to steady his breathing, the warmth in your eyes helping him by a mile.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he took one deep breath before speaking. "I should've asked you before you could even leave the house, should've chased after you. I should've fought harder for you. I wanted to ask you this before you got into your car and I didn't, which was a mistake," he trailed off, clearing out his throat as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I should've at least tried and asked you stay. I hope it's not too late but now I'm asking, begging you to stay. I want you to stay with me, please?" Tom pleaded, ready to be on his knees but you stopped him, he didn't need to be. Your fingers traced his jaw delicately, heart aching at the sight of broken man in front of you, but you've already made a decision. It was hard sticking to it now with him here, but you just had to remind yourself that this was for your own sake. You've already thought this through and it was final.

"I—I can't," you paused as the number of your flight echoed through the speakers. You turned back to Tom with a soft whisper, "You know I can't."

"At least you could've said goodbye?" he squeaked, voice breaking at the fact that your mind was already set, and when that happens, even before your worlds got flipped upside-down, it takes so much to change it.

"I couldn't, because I know for a fact if given the time, you might actually change my mind. Hell, just seeing you right now, it's already making me doubt my decision. But I need this Tom, I need to do this for myself. I've realized that my world revolved too much around you, and I don't regret it at all but I need to find my own path, grow as my own person."

Tom nodded dejectedly, eyes shut tightly because he knows he would have to let you go in a couple minutes. He needs more time, he wants more time with you. But when he heard your flight getting called again, Tom knew there was not much he can do about it.

"But when are you coming back?" he asked, voice frail but full of dread. And Tom felt his heart shatter some more when you looked away, his frown deep and sorrowful as he muttered, "You're not planning to."

You shook your head with a close of your eyes. "No. I am... I just don't know when," and it was true. You were going away for quite some time but you have a life here in London as well. It would be too hard to stay away. But as of now, you don't think you'll be back anytime soon.

As you open your eyes to look at those brown orbs again, you knew he understood.

He always does. Tom is quick at that when it comes to you. Not needing a whole lot of words to know what you mean, one look in the eyes will suffice. Tom couldn't say much more either, so he lets his action speak for itself instead.

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture catching you off-guard but only for a split second as you melted in his arms not long after. Tears slipped pass your eyes at the feeling, the feeling of his lips you've missed dearly, and Tom was the same. He missed how your lips fit perfectly with his, he missed how warm it feels, tender and soft.

It was a bittersweet kiss with the sense of goodbye laced in it, but it was beautiful nonetheless, special in a way as two hearts melt into one once more. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You just wanted to be stuck in the moment on repeat, destroy the buttons so that it plays on a never-ending loop. But when you heard your name through the speakers, you had no choice but to pull away.

As you stared into each other's eyes, both of you knew there was one more thing left to say, and as you did, as you spoke with nothing but sincerity, your hearts were filled with nothing but pure—

"I love you Y/N."

"And I love you Tom."

And with that he lets you go, hands going limp at his sides as he watches you gather your things and walk towards security. Before you could disappear out of sight, you spared him one last look over your shoulder, a smile written on your lips, one that was genuine, filled with adoration and... love.

It was a look that would always be burned in Tom's memory, but hopefully it won't be the last. Hopefully, with every choice made from here on out, if it's destined, then you'll find your way back to each other.

-:-:-:-:-

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blue-bird-on-a-wire · 3 years

Text

Vercopa (Hope)

gif credit: @coredrive

Part 1 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,620

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, violence, threat of unwanted sexual harassment. This takes place in a universe where Jabba never died in Return of The Jedi (maybe he passed out or something).

Summary: All (Y/n) can remember is being sold to Jabba at a young age. She has grown up within his palace walls, hears tales of great warriors called Mandalorians. Just as she faces what may be her last few days alive, a big blue Mandalorian shows up.

A/N: Hi! This is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr. You can also find this on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. Or if you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

The room was always full and loud, bustling with music from the band and conversation between various criminals. It was a place full of sleemos making deals, only to backstab each other when the twin suns set. The smell of sweat left a foul taste in your mouth, but it was easier to ignore the longer you stayed. One might say this palace was full of life if not for the giant slug who controlled everyone within it. All who stayed there were either a slave through debt or in chains.

I was not so lucky as to be a slave through debt. I could not work my way out of slavery, for I was in chains.

Sold to Jabba as a girl, almost all of my life had been within his palace walls. I had been a server while growing up. Hardly anyone ever paid attention to me as I scrambled around the place. I served and refilled drinks, or cleaned up after “guests” who died by the hand of Jabba's goons.

My biggest fear, aside from the rancor pit beneath my feet, was being turned into one of Jabba’s dancers. He went through them faster than a womp rat could scurry through an alleyway at night. If Jabba’s rancor wasn’t fed by someone who failed to pay back their debt, it was fed by a dancer after Jabba grew tired of them. A pretty face would only last so long.

I had learned a lot from listening to bounty hunters tell stories about their travels. My favorites were the stories about the Mandalorians. They were warriors who lived by a strict code and valued family just as much as they valued their weapons or beskar armor.

As a child, I would dream of these Mandalorians coming to Jabba’s palace, and taking me away. They would raise me to be one of them like I was a foundling. I wanted to be strong like a Mandalorian too, in how they could strike fear into even the most dangerous criminals with only a tilt of their head.

Although I had never seen one before, I knew they wore what was called beskar armor, and were not allowed to take off their helmets. Some people said they would paint their armor a different color from the shiny silver of beskar metal. I remember overhearing a conversation about Mandalorian traditions in regards to their loyalty and the love for their children. I painted a picture in my head of these great warriors and idolized them as the heroes in my daydreams. I never thought I would meet a real one.

~ ~ ~

“‘Nother round o’ spotchka!” a bounty hunter called as I walked past his table. “An’ ‘Urry it up, Babe!”

I did my best to refrain from rolling my eyes as I quickly made my way to the bar.

The thin metal collar around my neck rubbed at my skin as I turned my head to look up at the bartender. It was a constant reminder of my place within this hierarchy, though after so long I had nearly grown numb to the pain.

“Spotchka please, for table six,” I said, watching as the bartender took a glance behind me to make sure there was actually someone at that table.

There were no true friends here. It was almost a rule to expect lies coming from everyone's mouth. Besides, Jabba had issues with his slaves and alcohol consumption in the past, hence the unease for my honesty (not that I had ever been dishonest with this bartender before). The bartender turned around and pulled a glass from off the shelf. He filled it with the glowing blue alcohol and slid it across the bar table.

I smiled at him, picked up the glass, and gave a nod in thanks.

Though I did my best to ignore it, my neck burned at the gesture. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a little bit of bacta gel from one of the closets downstairs. I planned to sneak in there while no one was watching. Maybe I could find a few moments to myself as well, away from the hustle and bustle of the people in the throne room.

“Took ya long enough, Babe. I was startin’ to think ya ‘ad forgotten abou’ me,” the bounty hunter said as I returned with his alcohol. He stroked his patchy beard and eyed me up and down while I set his drink on the table.

I kept my gaze cast downward with my lips tightly pressed together. All I wanted was to get in and out without being noticed, but as I have grown older that had become much harder to do.

Just as I turned to leave, I saw the bounty hunter pick up the glass and dump its contents on the floor.

“Oops,” he said. “Guess ya gotta clean that up, Babe.”

I could feel my face heating up, knowing full well what game he was playing at. I wasn’t stupid. I had seen guests do this to other slave girls before. It never ended well for one or the other person.

I pulled a rag hanging from my belt, as it was common for me to be cleaning up spills. Instead of bending over, I chose to keep my front facing the bounty hunter and squat in order to wipe up the blue alcohol.

“‘Ome on now, Babe! Don’ be tha’ way,” the bounty hunter wined, banging his fist on the table as I stood up.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked, plucking the now empty glass from the table.

“Betta’ watch ya tone with me, ‘ittle one. I’m sure Jabba woulden’ wanna ‘ear abou’ trouble comin’ fro’ ya.”

I smiled, though it did not reach my eyes. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said and walked away to dispose of the rag and fetch a new one. I felt proud of myself, though the feeling did not last very long.

“Jabba!”

The throne room grew quiet with the bounty hunters' booming voice.

My blood ran cold and I froze in place.

Jabba finished chewing on a roasted frog before grumbling out in huttese.

“The great and powerful Jabba demands to know what you want, bounty hunter,” translated the crime lord’s red protocol droid.

The middle-aged man stood from his seat, drunkenly staggering up to Jabba’s throne.

“Don’ ya think tha’ pretty ‘ittle server ovah there,” the bounty hunter pointed at me. “Odda make a good danca?”

I thought my knees were going to collapse. I could feel my fingers twitching around the glass, and my eyes widened as I watched him.

Jabba paused for a moment before speaking.

“The all mighty Jabba wants to know what makes you say this,” droned the protocol droid.

The man looped his fingers through his belt while he turned to look at me. “She’s been ‘ere for a long time, Jabba. She’s experienced with this crowd. I’d imagine she’d make herself more useful to ya in tha’ way before her expiration date.”

My heartbeat was picking up speed with every second this dragged on. My expiration date? What, were they planning to kill me once I reached a certain age or something?

Jabba spoke again, his tone was much harsher than before.

“The great and powerful Jabba says you should not be telling him what to do.”

“Oh! Bu’ o’ course not! Look, Jabba, all I’m askin’ is tha’ ya-”

Jabba cut the bounty hunter off and spoke more aggressively.

Everyone in the room flinched back at his tone, even the protocol droid.

“The all mighty Jabba says you are in no position to be making deals, bounty hunter.”

“Jabba! Jabba! Now, wait a minute and jus’ liste-”

The overgrown slug slammed his fist down on a button on his throne, opening the rancor pit.

Gasps could be heard through the room as the bounty hunter fell into the beast’s layer.

The crowd quickly swarmed around the grates on the floor, subsequently pushing me forward as well. They laughed and jeered as the rancor was released from its cage.

I felt my stomach churn as I listened to the bounty hunter screaming and pleading for his life. I would never understand the appeal of watching a monster devour people.

At least that man would never pray on anyone ever again.

As the rancor picked up the helpless bounty hunter and swallowed him whole, the crowd let out a big cheer.

I was nearly elbowed in the face with all the commotion before the crowd pulled back and dispersed to where they had been before.

I shuffled backward with everyone, the breath I had been holding was finally released.

This must have meant I would remain a server after all.

Jabba finished laughing, and I began to leave and fetch another towel when I heard my name leave his slimy lips.

Oh boy.

I halted in my steps, dread shooting back down to the pit of my belly. I turned on my heels, knowing one should never leave Jabba waiting.

“Yes, great and powerful Jabba?” I squeaked out, quiet enough that I wasn’t sure I had been heard at all.

Jabba hummed before he spoke.

“The all mighty Jabba says the bounty hunter was stupid, but made a good point,” explained the protocol droid. “You are getting old, and your youth will not last for much longer.”

I didn't think I was that old. I must have been in my 20′s at least. If I wasn't so terrified, I might have been offended.

I tried to control my trembling but my muscles ached with the effort. Was it hot in that room, or was it just me?

Jabba gestured to some of his goons as he continued to speak.

“He says you have one rotation to learn the dances.”

One of Jabba’s goons grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me away into the back of the Palace while the music resumed and chatter once again filled the palace.

I had no words, but my thoughts were running a mile a minute. This was it. This would be my death. Within a week I would be eaten by the seething monster below if I wasn’t sold off to a bounty hunter as payment or reward for a job well done.

I couldn't even dance! How was I supposed to learn to dance in twenty-four hours? I could probably wiggle like a Hutt, but nothing more elaborate than that!

Who was I kidding? With my only skills as a scurrying little waitress, my lack of grace when it comes to moving my body in any fashion, and my definitely-not-as-beautiful-as-a-twi'lek’-body there was no way I would survive even an hour on that throne.

Before I could register what was happening, I was being fitted into royal blue undergarments underneath a black fishnet jumpsuit. The outfit left hardly anything to the imagination. This was something I had once seen a green twi'lek girl wearing several years ago. Oola, I believe was her name. It seemed as though Jabba had someone fish her outfit from the inside of his pet’s belly. Maybe it was worth more than it looked, but I would not want to be the one assigned the task of retrieving it.

I was shoved into a secluded room, where a holo-vid with a skinny-looking rodian was showing demonstrations for various dance moves.

As soon as Jabba’s goon left, I began to watch the rodian. I stood and tried to copy his gestures and from, but ultimately I stumbled over myself and was left winded.

Late into the night, I continued to practice until the soles of my bare feet hurt. I could already feel the blisters I would have in a few hours, and I had grown frustrated.

I was about ready to completely give up, curl into a ball on the floor, and cry myself to sleep. It felt useless anyhow. The rancor probably already knew my name, and was just waiting for me down below.

I felt hopeless, at least until I began to think about those Mandalorian stories.

I was sure a Mandalorian would never give up. They probably fought until their very last breath even when they knew the end was staring them straight in the eyes.

I took a deep breath, grounded myself, and did the best that I could to fight through the pain, tiredness, and hopelessness that threatened to break me.

Keeping track of my feet while also making sure to move my arms and put on a smile was difficult. It was like juggling glasses of spotchka while walking on a tightrope over a Sarlacc pit. However, I was determined to figure it out.

I would not be a pathetic little thing who laid down at death's door. I was going to fight with everything I had, even though I felt like I was attacking a Krayt Dragon with a spoon.

Come morning, my muscles were stiff and ached. I was covered in layers of sweat, but I knew I had done all I could to prepare myself to go out with a bang.

I was led to the sonic showers, where I cleaned myself up before donning that same dancer's outfit as before. It was as though the whole outfit screamed my designation as a slave, with the revealing design meant for the pleasure of anyone but the wearer.

No matter, I fixed my hair and kept my chin up as I was escorted back to the throne room.

Sure enough, Jabba was waiting with a heavy-looking chain in hand.

He said something in huttese that the protocol droid did not translate before he clasped the chain to a loop in the front of my collar.

I had never been this close to the crime lord before, but I swore his breath could kill alone. That must have been how he had risen to power, as I just could not imagine Jabba as a fighter who won his way to victory through blaster fire or skill with a vibroblade. No, he most defiantly must only need to burp to murder everyone within the room. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the entire palace only smelled so badly because of him.

"The great and powerful Jabba commands you to sit," says the protocol droid.

It was only then that I realized Jabba had addressed me, as he gestured to a spot on his throne beside his tail.

I moved to that spot and crossed my legs as I sat there, the chain swaying heavily with my movements.

I lifted a hand to rub the irritated skin around my neck, only to flinch away as the touch of my fingers stung my skin. Perhaps touching my wounds was worse in the long run. Disappointment filled me knowing there would be no way to get ahold of that batch gel now.

I wondered how difficult it would be to dance with the giant chain connected to my collar because of the extra weight it put on my neck.

Soon enough, the crowd in the throne room was as lively as ever, with the band playing their repetitive upbeat melodies.

For a few hours, not once did Jabba command me to dance, and for that I was grateful. My bare feet were allowed a few hours of rest, while my mind was allowed to wander.

Would it hurt to die? Would I feel my soul slipping from my body? What would happen in death? Would everything go black or would there be something waiting beyond it? My mind was spiraling and all I could focus on was my inevitable doom.

That was until a new bounty hunter entered the palace.

Thud. Thud. Thud. His steps were heavy.

He was huge, dressed from head to toe in blue armor. Easily 6’6”, this man could command the room with his size alone.

I struggled to find what he was looking at, as the dark visor on his helmet left no clues as to where his eyes wandered.

Jabba laughed as he spotted the bounty hunter. He raised his arms in welcome.

"The all mighty Jaba wonders what you are doing here, Mandalorian," translated the protocol droid.

Mandalorian? Wait a minute. This was a Mandalorian?

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment while my spine straightened a little. I had been waiting for a Mandalorian my whole life, but it occurred to me at that moment I was dressed in something so revealing when one finally showed up. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but I was right beside Jabba which made that very unlikely.

He looked so much more powerful than I had imagined those of his creed to be. This man would be able to take on a rancor just by barreling into it, given how much he looked like a tank. There was no doubt in my mind anymore about how Mandalorians were able to tame the great Mythasaures on their homeworld.

There was something about him that was also familiar. Perhaps it was the black visor which hid his eyes, or simply the general design of his armor. I felt like I had seen those of his kind before, though I swore I had never met a Mandalorian before. Surely I must have been creating false memories for myself.

The Mandalorian paused in front of Jabba's throne, and it became apparent he made sure not to stand above the entrance to the rancor pit.

"I mean you no trouble, Jabba. I am only seeking out a bounty said to be hiding within your palace," the Mandalorian said. His voice was deep and raspy, like the rumbling of a generator just before it reaches full power.

As Jabba again spoke in his native language, I noticed the Mandalorian’s helmet tilt in my direction and his shoulders tensed.

There was no way he was looking at me, right! It had to of been someone behind me.

He was definitely looking at me, and I was trembling from both fear and excitement under his gaze. He could shoot everyone in this room if he wanted to and not suffer a scratch from it.

From the bottom of my heart, I hoped he was here for me, though I knew those thoughts to be childhood fantasies. I had lost hope long ago of seeing the stars one last time before I would die in this place.

"The wise Jaba asks who you are looking for."

The Mandalorian’s focus snapped back to Jabba. He unclipped a bounty puck from his belt. "I am here for someone that owes a debt to the crime lord, Twene Shias, here on Tatooine."

Jabba, as well as the crowd gasped. He pulled back and began to gesture wildly, which caused my chain to be inconsiderately tugged.

I tried not to choke at the movement while I scooted closer to the giant slug in an attempt to ease the pressure on my neck.

Jabba hummed before his protocol droid said, "The great and powerful Jabba, though shocked, wants to make a deal. He says he will hand over whoever you are looking for, in return for the murder of this Twene Shias."

The Mandalorian paused for a moment. "This bounty I am after is worth much less than the head of this other crime lord. Surely, as a part of one of the most powerful and wealthy crime syndicates, you can offer me a little bit more than this."

Jabba considered the Mandalorian’s words with small nods of his head.

"Jabba the Hutt says that although this is already a generous offer, he wants to know what else you might want."

The big blue Mandalorian nodded while he gestured with his helmet in my direction.

"How about her?"

Me? Was he serious?

Jabba burst into laughter, the crowd within the palace following suit.

I felt my face heat up and my heart jumped into my throat. I turned my head away from the Mandalorian, fiddling with my skimpy outfit.

I must have been dreaming. There was no way this mandalorian was referring to me. If he was, he had no clue just how useless I would be to him.

Once Jabba was able to get a hold of his laughter, he spoke again.

"The all mighty Jabba says this girl is not worth anything. She is a servant in this palace with no skill sets of value to a Mandalorian such as yourself," explained the droid. "That is, unless you are a Mandalorian with other needs."

The blue armored man scoffed. “Then Jabba can spare one measly dancer in exchange for the murder of a rivaling crime lord.”

Jabba, whose pride was easily wounded, wasted no time to correct his words.

“The great and powerful Jabba says that if this is what you wish, he will gladly transfer ownership of the girl to you after you bring back this crime lord’s head.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as my head shot up to look at the Mandalorian.

Oh my gosh, he was serious. I would belong to a Mandalorian? What would this mean? What would he want with me?

The Mandalorian puffed out his chest, “You have a deal. Now, where is the toydarian, Drob Tufme?”

Jabba gestured to some of his goons behind him, who quickly entered the crowd.

Yelling could be heard from near the bar before a hunched-over toydarian was shoved onto the floor at the Mandalorian’s feet. “Hey! Hey!” Drob Tufme shouted, scrambling to stand up. “I didn’t do nothin’! I don’t got no debt!”

The Mandalorian quickly shoved Drob to his knees, running the blinking red fob over his head before clipping it back onto his belt.

“Doesn't matter,” said the Mandalorian while he cuffed Drob.

The Mandalorian pulled Drop to his feet and gave Jabba a nod before he turned and dragged the squirming toydarian out of the palace.

There was a pause before the quiet throne room burst back to life with the Mandalorian now gone. It was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders.

It was at that moment a new realization came over me. I wasn’t going to die in this horribly smelly place. I wouldn't be eaten by the monster below, nor shot by stray blaster fire. I refused to allow myself to think about what my life would be like in the hands of this Mandalorian. I did not want to believe my circumstances could get any worse than they already were. Perhaps it was simply for the preservation of my sanity, but I felt giddy inside that my childhood fantasy of being taken away by a Mandalorian was sort of coming true. One should never give up on childish hopes.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

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tmntgirlie · 3 years

Note

Hi! I would like to make a request for TMNT 2014/16 (bayverse). The reader is a vigilante like the rest of the gang and she has known everyone for a few years. She has grown closer to the leader in blue and they are like a couple. And one day she (the reader) gets kidnapped and no one knows where she is. Two years later on a mission they find her locked up in their enemies prison and saves her. Or you know, you can make up and ending, but she was missing for like two years at least. Thanks! :)

Sorry this took so long! I tried to make this as fluid as possible but I’m crap at writing fighting scenes haha. Hope you like it! <3

There wasn’t a day that you weren’t on his mind.

Not a day went by that he didn’t scour the internet for your name.

For two years, five months, and eight days, you had been missing.

Leonardo struggled within himself during your absence.

At first, he absolutely did not believe you were gone. There was no way you would allow yourself to simply vanish from the face of the Earth. You were a fighter- giving up was not in your vocabulary.

Then he was angry. He didn’t come out of his room for days on end. He refused to believe you just allowed yourself to be taken. How could you? Was this your only way to escape your life with him? With his brothers? Did you secretly not enjoy their friendships?

Donatello had managed to talk some sense into Leo after he tried to send threatening messages to every enemy he could think of.

“If she’s really out there, those threats are empty. Imagine what they’d do to her. They have the upper hand.”

Nobody really understood the relationship between you and Fearless. To be honest, he didn’t understand it, either. You had kissed a few times, even said those three magic words, but neither of you put any sort of label on it.

Don, Raph, and Mikey saw you as a sister-figure. Your being taken hadn’t been easy on them by any stretch of the imagination.

But it was painfully obvious that he who took it the hardest was Leonardo.

Life was now back to ‘normal’, as normal as their lives could be. Almost nightly patrols, visits from April and Casey, constant lectures and life-lessons taught by Splinter.

Leo’s most common Google search, however, was now your name.

It was your name. It was your name with all the different spellings. It was your nicknames, various spellings of that as well. It was your alter-ego, and all the different spellings of that.

He absolutely refused to believe that you were gone for good. You had too much yet to accomplish in your life, there was too much fire left in you. It was one of the things he liked the most about you. He just had to have hope.

“Leonardo? Earth to Leonardo? It’s time to go.”

“Right. Come on, guys.”

Only two ‘activities’ ever really cleared Leo’s mind. Patrolling and meditating. He had only recently gotten over feeling guilty over these things. He came to the conclusion that you probably wouldn’t like him being distracted by you when he had other things that needed to be done.

It was a fairly quiet night in the city. Nights like these had used to be hard to come by, but they became more frequent recently.

“Should we grab a pizza or something on the way back, Leo? I’m starving.”

“Yes, Mikey, we can grab a pizza. Now focus.”

“Focus on what? There’s nothing happening here! Should we call it a night?”

Something was in the air. Something was different.

Leonardo held up his arm to silence his brother. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep inhale.

It was familiar.

“Leo, what’s wrong-”

“Quiet!” he snapped.

It was so familiar. A scent that hadn’t filled his nose in years.

There was no way.

He started to run.

Every few blocks, he would stop to take a whiff again and change direction if needed. His heart was pounding. It felt like he was in a dream. He didn’t even care if he was seen or if his brothers were following him. This was now his mission.

The scent brought him to the edge of the city to the docks. It was getting stronger- he knew he was close.

His ninja-side kicked in as he prowled around, hiding behind storage containers. He swore he heard your voice in the sea of noise around him. He stayed quiet.

He chanted your name in his head like a mantra. This had to be it. He had to have found you.

“I told you to leave me alone!”

It was you. He knew it was.

“Quiet, Y/N, don’t need ya attracting unwanted attention. Remember our deal.”

“Fuck our deal. I’m out. Let me go.”

His girl, his Y/N, was being held captive? But most of all, was alive?

Leonardo could no longer contain himself.

He burst out from behind the storage container. He didn’t care if he was to be seen by any number of civilians. He was determined to bring you home. At last.

But when he came out from the shadows, all he could see was Y/N herself doing what she did best. Kicking ass and taking name.

Ten men surrounded her, all wearing similar encrusted jackets and hoods. It wasn’t a gang or anything that he recognized.

When he determined that you could handle yourself, he found himself leaning against the crate, watching in awe. You were stronger. There was no mercy in your eyes. Even in the dim dock light he could see scars dusted along your arms that weren’t there the day you disappeared.

In less than a minute, you were surrounded by the men now moaning and groaning on the floor. Your breath hitched when you saw Leonardo just standing there, watching.

“Leo?”

Your voice sounded so small compared to just a minute ago.

You ran to him like your life depended on it. “Leonardo!”

The ‘no mercy’ look was now replaced with fear and shame as you pressed yourself tightly to his plastron. He wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your small form.

“Y/N, where have you been?” He kissed the top of your head. “I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against him.

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deadjihuam · 3 years

Text

The Long-Term Effects Of Trama (MasterPost)

((Based off my own personal research on the aftermath of torture.))

People who have been tortured can have a range of symptoms, including:

* Headaches

* Shaking or trembling muscles

* Hearing loss

* Vision problems

* Sleeping problems

* Anxiety attacks

* Nervousness

* Irritability

* Sexual problems

* Depression

* Aggression

* Suicidal thoughts

* Chronic pain

A person who has been tortured may try hard to avoid anything that reminds them of their traumatic experience. This may include:

* Keeping thoughts and feelings separate, and choosing only to think instead of feel.

* They may ‘disconnect’ from the world around them and seem to be mostly daydreaming.

* Since many torturers are medical professionals, the person may stay away from hospitals, clinics, doctors, dentists and nurses.

* They may get anxious if they see or experience something that reminds them of their trauma, even if that object or activity isn’t dangerous or threatening in itself.

* The person may try to avoid crowds, public places, authority figures and anyone who wears a uniform.

* Some may stay home as much as they can, and avoid travelling and meeting new people.

* Harmful ways of coping may include alcohol or drug abuse.

A condition known as post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) develops in some people after going through a frightening event. The symptoms of PTSD include:

* Flashbacks, intense memories and nightmares that are so vivid, it feels like the trauma is happening all over again

* Sleep problems, such as insomnia

* Withdrawal from people and situations

* Loss of interest in life

* Increased anxiety and watchfulness

* Nervousness

* Being easily frightened or startled

* Feelings of helplessness or hopelessness

* Irritability

* Aggression and anger

* Severe depression, or deadening of emotions

* Loss of full range of emotions

* Problems with concentration

* Problems with learning new skills

* Memory problems

* Feeling like they have no future

* Problems with close relationships

* Loss of appetite

* Unexplained skin rashes, headaches, stomach upsets and other complaints that don’t seem to have a physical cause

* Thoughts of suicide

Article Information

Important Take-Aways:

* The complete breaking of the “Just World Hypothesis” which is the unconscious belief that everyone naturally holds saying “I am safe in this world as long as I do good.”

* Hyper-paranoia resulting from the Just World breaking.

* Hyper-vigilance in PTSD, being extremely paranoid and always in fear.

* Intrusions in PTSD, consistently experiencing traumatic event(s) over and over again through nightmares, flashbacks, and hallucinations.

* Arousal in PTSD, having hypersensitive behavior and moods.

* The arousal point also mentions a loss of patience, recognizing even harmless things as dangerous, a constant feeling of being in danger, a shorter emotional fuse, and being generally upset all the time.

* Another thing not in the quoted section is a new feeling of helplessness. People who have been tortured had all control taken away from them and were left at the mercy of their torturer. This has left a long lasting impression of what “true helplessness” feels like.

Article:

“Psychologists sometimes talk about something called the Just World Hypothesis, which is a sort of core belief that most people have that goes something like, "I am safe in the world so long as I do good. Events in the world operate in a lawful and non-chaotic manner, and if I am a good person in the world, I can expect that the world will treat me fairly".

When a trauma comes along (any trauma will do) you have a situation where your Just World Hypothesis is suddenly contradicted by an overpowering event that says, "YOU ARE NOT SAFE. YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL". When this happens, the Just World beliefs breaks, and what is left behind is a very nervous, very frantic, very frightened person.

Any random car accident can become cause for the Just World to break, but most of the time, after a period of shock and fear, many people climb back on the horse, so to speak, and start driving again. The Just World breaks but then reassembles itself resiliently. This reassembly is not a given, however. One way to describe what occurs in PTSD (when the situation becomes clinically relevant) is to say that in such cases, the Just World breaks and then remains broken.

I've written about PTSD before, so I won't go into it at length here. Suffice to say, classical PTSD has three clusters of symptoms: hyper-vigilance, intrusions, and arousal.

First, when you have PTSD you get hyper-vigilant for threats. Since the world has become radically unsafe, you start acting in ways that might help preserve your safety like: avoiding people; staying way from open windows; hitting the deck every time you hear a helicopter. At least these are ways that some Vietnam veterans did it. Other people think you are crazy, but, heck, you are crazy from the perspective of other people when you have PTSD. Their Just Worlds are still intact while yours has broken into bits. You see threats as real that they disregard as implausible. You know that a car accident can happen at any moment; that you could be tortured (or witness the results of torture) again. Others may know that these things are possibilities too, but they only know them intellectually, so they don't really know what they are talking about.

Second, people with PTSD suffer from intrusions. Memories of traumatic events come to them unbidden, and at the worst times. Nightmares, waking nightmares, even hallucinations in the more severe cases, each recreating the trauma in unwanted detail. If your trauma is a car accident, you replay the car accident. If your trauma is torture, you replay the torture. Think about having to live like that; having to replay a capricious and excruciatingly painful episode in your life, one where you lose everything, again and again.

Thirdly, PTSD involves arousal. Your whole body becomes hypersensitive and jumpy compared to how you used to be. Your baseline arousal rate elevates. Your threshold for perceiving danger lowers to the point where you experience false alarms that you are in danger all the time. Your emotional fuse gets shorter too. You lose a good deal of the patience you used to have. You are upset all the time.

A good number of people who are tortured for any length of time, or in any depth will go on to develop PTSD. No way around it. Torture is an effective method for creating disabling and more or less permanent emotional illness.”

((I’m working on finding this artical again. I’ll link it when that happens. Thanks for reading!))

#dejihuam #whump #whump advice #fanfic advice #writing advice #reserch #ptsd #torture #post tramatic stress disorder #fic ref #i think #possible fanfiction idea?#whump ideas #ptsd writing advice #tag abuse

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yukiobeyme · 3 years

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I'm interested to see your take (fic or HC's, all your stuff is gold,) on Beel' reaction to a love interest MC admitting that they're actually very scared of Belphie after the whole... Chapter 16 onward events. (I'm in the mood for ANGST, ya know?)

It’s nowhere near angsty as it should be, I’ll admit that. But there is some hurt, Big brother Lucifer, Love Guru Asmodeus, and a heart to heart with Belphie. So there’s that?

But Overall I imagine Beel being hurt and immediately thinking you are going to make him choose. He would want nothing more you to get along and love each other. Then he would want to work with you to build your trust with Belphie much like you had helped the brothers.

Beel had no idea you felt this way. You were always so nice to Belphie, welcoming him and even helping patch things up between the brothers. Though now he stood frozen outside of your door. He paid no mind to his brothers that had gathered around once they heard yelling.

It was a typically day at the House of Lamination, you had cooking duty and as always Beel joined you. You made Beel’s favorite, while he prepared Belphie’s soup. Dinner went without a hitch, just normal banter but no yelling or fights. He watched as you lit up as you laughed along with Satan, Asmo, Levi, and Belphie teasing Mammon. He smiled when you played both sides, teasing Mammon but defending him too. You always told him you had a thing for playing devil’s advocate. Your care for all the brothers showed and it warmed Beel to the very core. His family was important to him and here you were making an effort to make sure they were happy.

That night, Beel asked you to do homework with him. He promised you favorite snacks and when he showed up, he brought Belphie with him and pretended not to notice how you looked unsure and guard for a moment before welcoming the twins and diving into hex homework.

Beel wasn’t stupid, he knew you didn’t like sleeping in their room anymore since Belphie came back, but he took it more for privacy reasons. While you didn’t mind holding his hand as you walked to RAD, or sneaking the occasional kiss between classes, Beel figured you didn’t want to invade Belphie’s space with your affections. Though for now, you were tangled up in bed, Beel simply smiled and watched you sleep for a few moments. He let his eyes fall shut and enjoyed how you felt up against him, your constant pressure on his chest and he could feel your calming heartbeat. His eyes snapped back open when he heard you whimper and start to squirm against him.

“MC,” he muttered, gently cradling you, before moving to wake up.

“Belphegor, please no!” you shouted once you were awake. Beel felt your heart stammer, he watched as your chest moved wildly as if you were being suffocated and could finally breathe again. Beel recognized this emotion in humans all too well. Fear.

“MC,” he softly called to you, looking over you worryingly.

“I thought he was going to kill me again Beel.” Your voice was choked; he could feel you shaking as you fought off the sobs.

“Do you dream about it often?” Beel asked, he was torn. You were so important to him, but so was his brother, and the idea of you two not getting along wasn’t an option for him.

“I’m so scared of him,” you admitted quietly, you sounded drained and exhausted, as if you had been working out rather than just waking up.

“You don’t need to be scared of Belphie,” Beel tried to comfort you but you pushed yourself off his chest the moments those words left his lips.

“I don’t have a need to be scared of Belphie!” your voice went hard, and you were practically yelling. “Do you need to be reminded he killed me? It wasn’t a tried to kill me like Levi or Lucifer either, Beel. He was successful, the only reason I am alive is because of Barbatos choosing a timeline where I lived.” You felt hot tears coming and you rushed to wipe them away.

“MC,” Beel said softly like he was talking to an injured animal.

“Don’t MC me, just get out get out,” you tried and push him out the bed, but he was so much stronger than you. Beel understood he wasn’t wanted and allowed you to shove him along and let you slam the door behind him.

Now he stood frozen outside of your door, ignoring his brothers that had gathered. They probably heard the yelling and was worried about what was happening.

“Beel?” Belphie was the one that broke the silence and reached out to touch him and Belphie face twisted to a hurt expression when Beel simply moved away from his touch and brushed past the brothers without a word.

The next morning, you didn’t bother with breakfast nor did you bother waiting for Beel or at least one of the brothers to walk with you to RAD. For the first time, since you and Beel had made it official, you walked alone.

You head was spinning from last night, you felt bad for blowing up like you did but for Beel to tell you, you had no need to be scared of someone who has proved they can and will kill you.

You arrived to class far too early and decided to busy yourself between looking at today’s lesson and checking your DDD. You ignored Beel’s messages and send an apology to Lucifer for not walking with anyone and promised to at least walk home with someone. You then sent a message to Satan, asking if he would sit beside you today, and while he expressed how he didn’t want to get involved with the fight you and Beel were having, he reluctantly agreed.

You smiled brightly at Satan when he joined you in the classroom, he gave you a disapproving look before sitting beside you.

“Good Morning MC, you skipped breakfast,” Satan scolded you, but it lacked any heat.

“Good Morning Satan, I did. I’m sorry, I wanted to review hexes before class,” you shrugged pretending nothing was to astray.

Satan sighed before leaning close to you, “We all hear last night,” his voice was low and you felt your body turn to ice.

“Oh, even Belphegor?” you whispered, you felt guilt eat at you, knowing you probably are causing a family problem.

Satan smiled sadly at you before nodding and straightened back up when he noticed Beel had entered.

Beel was a lot more unkempt than usual, his hair was a mess and his face seemed redder than normal. Though somehow, he still made your breath catch in your throat. You felt yourself stiffen when you say he was coming your way. He came to your side of the table before stopping and looking over sadly at Satan then back at you.

“You didn’t come to breakfast,” was the only thing he said as he placed a breakfast sandwich in front of you before moving to take a seat in the back of the class. Your heart fluttered, even when you were upset at each other, he still cared for you.

You kept your head down for the day, only talking when spoken to and made sure you didn’t bring any unwanted attention to yourself. You tried to avoid both Belphie and Beel, making sure when they came near your eyes stayed glued to the ground.

You were grateful when Lucifer offered to walk you home, you knew it meant you would have to stay after, but it also meant you could avoid Beel and Belphie a little longer.

“MC,” Lucifer greeted you, he grabbed your books from your arms before starting off towards to House of Lamentation. You flashed him a grateful smile.

“It’s none of my business,” Lucifer started, only briefly glancing at you, “but know that if this affects my brother’s or Diavolo’s vision in any way, I will step in,” you could help but roll your eyes. This wasn’t anything new from Lucifer, sometimes he was a broken record.

“Though you have managed to drive the twins apart quite a bit,” Lucifer continued on, only glaring at you for a second. You felt your face fall and stomach twist, you didn’t mean for your fear to get in the way of their bond.

“But you understand where I come from though, Lucifer?” you asked him quietly, maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal.

“Belphie for sure made a mistake,” Lucifer started and seemed to ponder for a moment before continuing, “Quite a big mistake, something that would be understandable if you couldn’t forgive him or if you feared him,” Lucifer had paused midstride before looking over at you.

“But I also know, you aren’t one to hold a grudge MC. You have been placed in horrible situations, ones where you could have quite possibly have met your end, but you rose up each time and tackled the problem head-on each time.” Lucifer smiled ruefully at you, “It’s something that is both infuriating and endearing about you,” Lucifer then continued to walk, not even glancing back to make sure you were following him.

You made it back to the house and immediately set off to the kitchen, you gathered what you needed to make tea. You gathered the plate before heading towards the library, praying that Satan had decided to stay in his room today. You let out a sigh of relief, before you could chicken out you sent Beel a message to come meet you.

It took about ten minutes before he showed up, and once he sat down neither of you knew how to start this conversation. You couldn’t believe one event, and one stupid fear could change so much in so little time.

You sat drinking your tea in silence, but in some ways, it was oddly comforting. To simply enjoyed each other’s company and though there was tension, it didn’t seem to affect either of you too much.

It wasn’t until you both had finished your tea and Beel had finished the last of the snacks that you brought before either of you spoke.

“Don’t make me choose MC. Because it isn’t a choice for me. It will always be Belphie, always” Beel told you firmly, making sure to hold eye contact. Though somewhere in his brain was pleading with him to beg for you, to make you stay.

I know Beel, I know,” you gave him a sad, soft smile. You briefly squeezed his arm before walking away from him. Beel wanted to stop you, but knew this had to be the right choice in the end, right?

It wasn’t the conversation you wanted to have with him, nor was it the one you needed. If anything, all it did was make it hurt worse. You should have known this, of course, Beel would pick his twin over you. But at the same time, did he think so little of you that you would force him to choose between his brother and you.

Once in the safety of your room, you let yourself fall apart. You clung to your pillow and let yourself cry. You ended drifting off in a dreamless sleep. You ended up sleeping through dinner and at this point, you didn’t care, you felt numb.

You recalled what Lucifer told you, you tended to tackle all your problems head-on, and this is all this is right? It’s just a problem, something that could be solved. It made you exhausted to try and think of a solution, instead, you decided you needed advice and maybe a nice bath. Which thankfully there was a brother that seemed to be specialized in both.

You gathered your pjs and towel before heading towards Asmo’s door, within seconds of knocking, Asmo opened his door and welcomed you in.

“Asmodeus,” you started sternly, “I don’t think sex is the solution to this,” you were in his bath neck deep in bubbles as Asmo gently lathered your hair.

“That’s no fun,” Asmo whined but thankfully stopped pushing it, “So Beel thought you were going to make him choose between the two of you?”

“Yes and I could never ask that of him, I could never put any of you against each other,” you said, looking lost.

“Did you tell him that?” Asmo asked you quietly

“I didn’t have the chance,” you whispered, “I left after he said that. Why does it hurt so much when he told me he’d choose Belphie over me anyways?” you hit the water out of frustration watching the water and bubbles disperse.

“It always hurt to know if you aren’t number one with someone,” Asmo gently shushed you, “though the hurt isn’t to the same extent, you choosing Beel over me hurt,” you gave him a helpless and sorry look, “no need to give me that face, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad,” Asmo gently washed out all the soap from your hair before continuing.

“But I am still your number one and who you come to with relationship problems. Though you didn’t choose me as your number one, I know you don’t want to lose me,” Asmo voice started to pick up and got close to his normal sing-along voice.

“I’m willing to bet Beel doesn’t want to lose you either, even if he told you Belphie is his number one. Belphie is his twin, they both suffered the most when we lost Lilith. Beelz almost lost Belphie too,” Asmo told you, sounding completely confident in his words.

It took a week before you tried talking to Beel again. While you didn’t outright avoid him like you did on the first day, you didn’t necessarily go out of your way to talk to him. Though you kept your distance from Belphie, not knowing how he felt about the whole situation. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him, you knew him well enough to know he probably blamed himself for this fight, but you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he would kill you again. It would definitely resolve the problem.

You went to the planetarium and sat and watched the stars. You jumped when you heard the door close, you turned and froze when you saw Belphie behind you.

“Oh I’ll just go,” Belphie stuttered out and turned to leave but you called out after him, “No, please stay” you don’t understand why you did but you did.

“Okay,” Belphie voice was small and he moved more into the room slowly and making sure to keep plenty of space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence, looking over at Belphie, who just gave you a confused look.

“I know you overheard the fight,” you said shyly and looked unsure at him. “I don’t mean to cause any problems, especially between you and Beel,”.

“I don’t think you have anything to apologize for,” Belphie answered after a moment, “I think it’s mean that have a lot to apologize for.” Belphie paused and looked up at the stars above you before continuing, “from killing you to making it so you feel scared of me, and don’t say it’s not my fault either,” Belphie gave you a rueful look. You could help but let out a small laugh.

You let your shoulders drop and you turned to face him, “ I’m sorry I’m hurting Beel right now and I know I am hurting you as well,” you looked over at Belphie, emotions mixing inside of you. You still felt the fear, but you also couldn’t help but feel remorseful and bad.

“Beel is hurting right now,” Belphie didn’t try and hid the bite to his voice.

“I would never make him choose,” you rushed to say, “I would never ask him to choose between me and you,” you clarified. “That would only hurt him more and I think he needs the both of us for different things,” you told Belphie honestly.

“I figured you wouldn’t MC, that didn’t seem like you,” Belphie gave you a small smile. Belphie seemed to ponder for a moment before looking over at you, “Is there any way I could help you not be scared of me?”

You froze, you never thought about it. You didn’t want to be scared of him, but how do you go about it?

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to forgive you. I think I have for the most part, but I guess it’s just because you were the first demon to prove their point that they are capable of killing me,” you replied with a huff, “I mean Levi and Lucifer have had their moments, when I thought they were going to kill me, but they didn’t,”.

“I can’t take back what I did to you MC, and I am sorry for that” Belphie said and you both lapsed into silence for a bit.

“I thought about Beel each time,” you said suddenly, “When Levi changed to his demon form, I mourned the fact that I didn’t get to know him more. I practically sacrificed myself to Lucifer for him and I just hoped Beel understood my feeling for him. Then with you, I was torn. You were his twin and I wanted nothing more to be your friend. I also couldn’t help but think of all the things I hadn’t done with Beel yet or the things I would miss,” you let your guard down for a moment.

“You really do love him,” Belphie said, he wasn’t questioning you, he was stating a fact.

“Yea, I do. I really do” you said with a soft smile.

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Belphie returning a soft smile.

You both sat in silence, and while it was by no means easy for you, you enjoyed the first real connection and conversation you had with Belphie. Before long you said goodnight to an already sleeping Belphie before heading to the twin’s room with confidence.

“Beel, are you in there?” you called softly as you knocked on the door.

“MC?” Beel returned as he cracked the door open.

You gently pushed on the door until it was open enough for you to slip inside. You took in the room before turning to look at a shy and uneasy Beel.

“Come here,” you said softly, holding out your arms. Beel was quick to embrace you and pull you close to him.

“I love you,” you whispered before gently guiding your lips together. Once you broke the kiss, you looked him in the eye, “I would never make you choose between me and Belphie. I never want you to” you told him.

“I love you too, MC.” You could see the tears forming in his eye and you simply squeezed him tighter.

“What about Belphie?” Beel gently whispered, “I would love for you to be friends,” he nudged his face into your neck.

“It won’t be an easy feat,” you started looking around their room, “but for you I’m willing to try,” you told him.

“You have every right to be scared MC, but I’ll be beside you along the way,” Beel reassured you before ushering you towards his bed, and just like before you found yourself tangled together, enjoying each other’s company and hopeful for the future.

#yuki writes!#Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #beelzebub obey me #belphie obey me #belphegor obey me

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snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

Captain Swan Movie Marathon: “Carolina Moon”

Here is my second submission to the @captainswanmoviemarathon event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts tv movie (adapted from one of her novels) Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure on the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements. There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot, still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Chapter One

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acres. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting up out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Her friend’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment Rose seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon and Rose had held the newest entry in her favorite mystery series in her hand that she wouldn’t be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They’re willing to give each other at least one other person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror to practice batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness, a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea of the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out on her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but it seems to be her lot, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until it passes, helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, and stay in the servant’s quarters, Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she had in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat, Graham, her friend and a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had taught her how to fish; it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes had seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts.

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” none other than Emma’s nemesis Killian Jones crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at the quiet of their sanctuary being interrupted. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister shared little in common, she and her two years older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’d had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth in while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, now standing in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose and I’s hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and causes her gaze to cut sharply to the third member of the boys’ little crew, hanging back slightly in the shadows behind Killian and Graham as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all. Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could just take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line, whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption. Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her vision are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me. I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest, Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home and Rose to the pristine, Jones mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for herself, to control her visions and use them for good, and was a special consultant for the NYPD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected other to leave the past in the past, she’d first have to manage it herself.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who’d stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then wasn’t her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight.

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

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#captain swan movie marathon #cs ff #cs au #carolina moon #chapter one #cs mc

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