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Pawn Lost

Chapter Text

Friend

You teetered only a little on the gigantic heels that your friend (f/n) had loaned you. If she only knew what you needed them for...

It was either this, start selling something illegal...or starve. There simply weren't any jobs to be had around here, and, well, dancing hadn't worked out.

I can do this, you told yourself. I just need to make enough to get to (whatever city name), there's a ton of stuff going on there. That won't take me too long to earn.

Heels, short skirt, tank top...all set.

You knew a few "corner women" as they were called around here, and they'd given you enough good advice, you thought, to avoid the real creeps. The ones that, as the last one had said, "Have no intention of letting you go."

It took two hours of standing and winking and flirting with passing men before one finally looked your way. He was bundled up pretty tightly, and missing an eye--probably a soldier, you thought. Good, the soldiers around here tended to always be ready for a night.

"Available, are you?" he asked.

"Yes, I...I am."

"Standard fare good enough?"

"It's fi--"

The last thing you saw before blacking out was his cape fluttering above you.


You woke with an aching neck, and as you shifted around you felt a strong hand clamp over your mouth.

"Don't scream. If you do, you'll disturb my son." The man was tense--if this didn't work, well, he'd have to go out and get another one. If he even managed to live through the next few minutes. If it did work, however, he would have a better idea of the extent of his device's full control abilities. It had worked well enough to save him the last time, but he wanted to be sure he had complete reign over that beast his son's quiet looks hid.

You nodded quickly, and felt fear racing through you as your blindfold was removed. You were seated on a chair near a bed, on which was seated an exceedingly tall young man with some sort of strange tiara on his head who was staring blankly. Not at you, not at the man behind you...he was just...staring.

"Broly." the man said, raising his hand behind you just slightly.

The younger one looked up at his father with the same look.

"I've brought you a friend. Someone to...take care of."

The blank gaze now turned to you, and finally, he spoke. "Yes...a friend."

There was a sudden spark in his eyes, but it quickly faded as he stood up, still looking down at you.

"Perhaps you should get your...friend...something to eat?" his father suggested.

"Of course, father."

Broly stood and left the room, and you got to your feet, whipping around to face the man behind you.

"Look--I'm not--I was just trying to earn a little extra--I'm not, you can't just..."

"You have no one to go home to. None of you filthy corner girls do." the man replied. "Either cooperate with me, or I'll show you why I wear this thing!" He waved his hand at you, showing a strange golden thing that looked a lot like the tiara-thing that Broly wore.

"F-fine," you said, "...just...don't--"

That was when Broly reappeared with a tray of food. He seemed to be absently smiling, although as he passed and looked down at you again, you could swear you saw something more in his eyes. Whatever it was certainly didn't put you at ease--quite the opposite, in fact.

"Very good, Broly," came the voice behind you again.

As you started eating, you had the sudden nagging feeling that you had just fallen into something you would have a hellish time getting out of...

Chapter Text

Fragile

A week went by, and you still weren't able to fully relax. Paragus--as he had, finally, told you his name the other day--seemed to focus on the device he was wearing a lot. You were getting suspicious about it, to be frank, because the other day you'd noticed that the gem on it glowed whenever he told Broly to do something.

Broly...was something else entirely. He seemed to stare at you a lot with those large dark eyes of his. And that...that kind of creeped you out.

Today you woke to find the young giant curled up to you.

"Er...good morning, Broly."

"Good morning, (y/n)." He let go of you, and sat up on the end of the bed, just as you sat up.

"When did you come in here?"

"I...don't remember. It was still dark, and it was cold, so I thought I'd keep you warm." After looking down at you he suddenly reached out and touched your face.

"What are you--"

"You're...so small..." He said, his voice shifting just a bit as his fingers slipped down to your neck "...and...fragile..."

You gulped. What was he doing?

His eyes flickered, and just as his hand started to move lower, Paragus appeared in the doorway.

"Behave, Broly."

Broly pulled his hand away from your chest. "Yes, father."

"Go into the other room and eat, breakfast is ready."

As Broly left, Paragus turned to you with a glare. "And just what the hell was that about?"

"I don't know! I woke up and he was in here!"

"You're quite sure you didn't invite him?" He asked as he walked over, with venom lacing every word.

"Why the hell would I do that?"

The only reply you got was a slap that sent you across the room and into a closet door.

Paragus stormed after you and hauled you up by the hair. "Make one sound and I will end you, you little cretin. The only reason you continue to exist is because I need to be sure of something. Do you understand? The second you stop being useful to me is the second you die."

"B-but...what am I supposed to do?"

"Simply live. Do not do one thing more. Eat, drink, and sleep. That's all you need to do. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Now go in there. And if you let slip that I--"

"I...I won't," you said nervously, stepping quickly out the door and down the short hallway.


The rest of the day went as you expected. Paragus was constantly around watching both Broly and you, and whenever the former got too close to you, he was commanded to back off, to give you space.

Thankfully, however, it passed quickly. Night fell and you went to bed.

...and woke up with the same visitor as before--only this time, Broly appeared to be stroking the bruise on your face.

How long had he been there? Was he watching you sleep?

"Mmph...what are you doing in here again?"

"How'd you get that?" he asked, lightly tapping the bruise.

"I tripped and fell."

"Oh."

You laid there, and stared at him, just as he was doing to you, and began to wonder...what was Paragus hoping to accomplish here? Why was he trying to control his son to this extent? And why had he brought you here? To see how well he could do that very thing?

He seemed to smile and, bleary-eyed, you smiled back.

You heard footsteps, though, and tensed suddenly.

"It's just my father."

"He doesn't want you in here." You looked up, scared--and saw that he was still smiling.

"Just pretend to be asleep."

You took a deep breath, and did just that, laying as quietly as you could as the door opened.

"Broly? Why are you in here?"

"I wanted to watch her sleep."

"You don't need to do that. Come on out and go sleep in your bed."

"But she's--"

"Now, Broly."

"Yes, father."


The next three weeks went much the same as the first.

You'd almost think Paragus was experimenting, the way he kept handling things. After the second week he'd had you start handling the cooking, and then seemed to alternate between making Broly insult or praise the food. Then it was the cleaning and the cooking.

And really, all you wanted was for the nightmare to end. Living wasn't even what you were doing--you were just existing...and for what? To satisfy this man's sick need to see how far he could lead his son around?

Tonight, however, had been mercifully quiet. Paragus had gone to bed early, and you were heading to your tiny room as well.

You sat down on the bed facing the window, and tried not to cry as you thought of just how stuck you were. Sure, you could run, but without any money, what point would there be in that? You hadn't had any time to earn anything, and your revealing clothes had been switched out for normal ones anyway. There wasn't any chance of you even getting a customer.

That was when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, and when you looked back you noticed it was Broly, kneeling on the bed behind you.

"Oh...hello again. Does your father know you're in here? I don't want you getting into any trouble."

"He's...fast asleep."

That voice was...different than you remember.

"And I know it's you you're really worried about..." One of his hands went to your throat, and pushed your head back against his upper abdomen.

"But, I--"

"Hush, now," he said, chuckling under his breath. He sat down cross-legged on the bed and pulled you up onto his lap. "He won't hurt you this time."

"If he finds out you were--"

"I said hush." His grip on your throat tightened slightly.

You inhaled sharply. What--what had happened to him? This wasn't the Broly you were used to hearing. Was this what Paragus was trying to--

"He won't interrupt me this time." he whispered in your ear. "He brought you here for me and he should have expected this."

You found yourself turned suddenly around, and you looked up at Broly's face--only to notice that, aside from the disturbing smirk on his face--

His eyes...

What had happened to his eyes?

"Don't hurt me," you found yourself saying, "Please don't hurt me."

Chapter Text

"Why would I hurt you?" the grin seemed to fade.

You couldn't tell if he was genuinely confused or not, and so did not respond.

"I don't want to do that...no...I want to make you happy."

He seemed to chuckle briefly before reaching for the bottom of your shirt.

"What are you doing?" You froze when he pushed your shirt up to just below your shoulder line.

"Looking." Broly put one arm around you and leaned you back so his view was better.

Your face was already burning red. Aside from the fear, you weren't in the habit of letting men see you like this.

It was like watching a wild beast look over something it had never seen before, but now wanted despite the fact. He groped at you roughly, unknowingly, for a minute or two before finally pushing the bra up and over your breasts.

You looked away, and squirmed a bit when he touched you again.

"You're very soft."

"And...and your hands are cold."  What was he going to do? You were already shaking.

As Broly continued, you felt a growing heat. Again, and again, his palm would brush the hardening bud, and you would squirm as it did so, until a moan finally slipped out. For not knowing what he was doing, he certainly was doing a good job of riling you up.

No, you thought, I have to...I can't do this...if he finds out...I'm...

His voice grew darker again, and he pulled you closer. "See what you did?"

You yelped slightly when he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand down onto the peak of the tent in his pants.

"See...just at the sight of you..." his grip tightened, causing your touch on him to involuntarily do so as well.

You took in a sharp breath as you found yourself on your back underneath that wildly and suddenly passionate gaze, and tried desperately to think of a way out of this. If you called out, Paragus was sure to hear, and you were sure to get another slap, possibly worse. If you tried running...something inside told you that would be a very, very bad idea. But--

"Hush, now...we don't want anyone hearing us." Broly grinned as he leaned over you and tugged off your pants.

He's really going to... you thought, panicking more when you remembered it was a wash day and therefore you weren't wearing underwear. He's...

After a bit of shuffling with his own overly-baggy clothes, Broly finally freed himself and leaned down over you.

He moved in slowly--even so, you had to hold one hand over your mouth to keep yourself silent. There was no getting around the fact; he was, well...massive, and your nethers couldn't decide if they were feeling more pleasure or pain.

Once he was all in he gave you no time to relax before he started thrusting.

There were no words. He simply charged in and out, over and over again while keeping a tight grip on your delicate hips. He was rough, he was animalistic--and the longer it went on, the more of both he became, as if he were completely losing control.

It took a few minutes before your body adjusted, but the moment it did your other hand went over your mouth as well. You were trying desperately to stay silent against the pleasurable onslaught, and you could see in his eyes that he was highly amused by the desperation in your eyes.

Every movement turned into an odyssey of ecstasy and pain; and soon enough you were moaning through your hands. It would hurt, and then it would shift into an avalanche of utter bliss, and it was constantly going back and forth.

That only made him worse--he pushed farther, he pushed faster, and soon enough you felt a growing tenseness all over your body, gathering...waiting...

One more thrust, and--you could feel Broly tense and relax as it struck him; and in response, the grip of pleasure seized you as well.

You were quiet, and finally, you took down your hands, and stared at him, breathing heavily. The pain was still tingling here and there, but you were so awash in the afterglow that it didn't seem to matter.

"...my beautiful...(y/n)..." Broly seemed normal again--if there were anything about him that could be considered such--and reached up, stroking the bruise on your face again. "See...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," you lied. The pain in your nether regions, and what you were sure were bleeding marks on your hips agreed with you, but to openly acknowledge that...well, you knew that would be a very bad idea.

"No one will hurt my (y/n)..." he smirked, rubbing the bruise briefly, "...and if they do...I'll tear them limb from limb."


The next morning you barely wanted to walk at all, but it was necessary to pretend that nothing had happened. You finished making breakfast, and tried to ignore the glare that Paragus was sending your way.

When Broly went to his room, you finally spoke.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I was out cold most of the night. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

"No. I was asleep the whole time." You were shaking as you put the dishes into the sink.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

You heard Paragus get to his feet, and you winced. Not again...not again...

"I think you told him to do it. And I'm very tired of this nonsense of his coming into your room at night."

"I don't ask him to do it, you know."

"I don't want to hear it. I have the information I need. Do you know what that means?"

You stood stone still. He'd said it before, but you didn't know that he'd actually meant it, you thought he'd just been trying to scare you.

"It means," he grabbed you by the hair, "You are no longer of any use to me."

Chapter Text

Keeper

"Please," you said, cringing from the pain in your scalp, "J-just let me go. I won't come back. I won't even try to."

It didn't even matter anymore that you didn't have any money. A little hunger was worth getting away from here, from Paragus, and from whatever the hell Broly was.

"Oh, but he will go looking for you. Do you think I'm stupid?" His grip tightened and you gasped, but he clapped his other hand over your mouth. "Do not make a sound, or your death will be a slow one."

You froze, and he lowered his hand--only to strike you with the back of it. Your hip struck the corner of the counter and you gasped in pain.

"Please--" you started, "--I...please, just..."

Paragus glared, and you started trembling as he advanced and grabbed you by the shirt collar and started to punch you across the face.

The first punch was an explosion of pain; the second repeated it. The third--you heard a scream, and realized a second later that it was you. You had screamed.

"Oh, don't worry about it being broken," Paragus sneered, dropping you in the corner, "That hurt won't last long." He raised his hand and powered up a ki ball.

You buried your face in your knees, and the shaking grew worse. It was over. It was all over...

He started to swing his hand down, but suddenly found his wrist held in a tight grip. The ki ball fizzled away.

"What are you doing?"

You were relieved, in a way, to hear that voice.

But you were also scared.

"Let go of my arm, Broly." The device on his hand started to glow, but before he could do anything, Broly's grip tightened and he screamed.

When he turned to face his son, Paragus's wrist hung limp.

"You were about to kill her, weren't you?" Broly's eyes narrowed and he took him by the throat. "Why would you do that?"

"Broly, stop--now--"

But the anger had been sparked, and Paragus soon found himself tossed through the front window and into the street.

You crawled, frightened, from the corner that you had been shaking in. Broly had gone out after his father and you were watching as he made his deliberately slow approach. It was in that moment that you realized that Broly was only toying with his prey...much like a cat with a mouse.

"Broly, stop." Paragus was holding his useless hand up with his other one, but as he started to use the device Broly gave him a swift kick in the gut.

"Stop? He says to me, STOP! As if what he says has any meaning!"

"You...you will not do this to me..."

Should...should I run? I could run.... you thought. But then, a second thought occurred to you and pushed the first one right out the door. That would be a very, veryyyyyy bad idea....

You watched in horror as Paragus tried once more to use the device--only to have Broly step on and utterly crush both it and his hand.

He screamed.

"In pain already, father?" Broly smirked and laughed.

It was horrifying, and the worst part was--Broly wasn't even beginning. Over the next hour you watched as Paragus repeatedly got up and tried to run, only to be kicked and beaten down a little bit more each time.

"Please, Broly...would you..." Paragus groaned, and spit blood, "Will you really do this to your own father? Over...over a woman...?"

"You were going to kill her," Broly said, hauling his father up by his hair. "You were going to take her from me."

"I...Broly...don't..."

"You brought her to me, and because of that you think you can just take her away again? It doesn't work like that." He smirked.

You couldn't bear to watch the moment of death, but you could hear the sudden hitch in Paragus's voice from that small distance away. You curled up, burying your face in your knees and shaking for what seemed like forever before you felt a presence over you.

You finally looked up.

Broly stood before you, eyes strangely blank, just as they had been the night before. And his hands were covered in blood.

He didn't seem to notice the look of terror in your eyes, and instead picked you up in one arm, smiling crookedly, as if nothing had even happened.

"What...what are you going to..." It was all you could get out, as he reached up to once more stroke your face, smearing some of that blood on your cheek.

"Now no one can take you from me."

Chapter Text

Tepes

Things were...different, after that. You found out that Broly had actually gotten a job as a "debt collector" for some local gang or the other, and when you asked why he'd chosen that, he had only grinned at you.

You were alone most of the day, left mostly to your own devices, so aside from keeping up with the house you were able to do things you'd been worrying about being able to do only a month or so before. Food wasn't an issue any longer. You could actually AFFORD a new shirt now and then, and even considering Broly's enormous appetite still had enough to go around. You often found yourself thinking that if you had walked into this willingly, you would have been pleased by the situation.

But there was a price for every comfort.

When he did get home, which was usually late into the night, he always seemed to want, well, your attention. Your hips by now were dotted with fingernail-shaped cuts and little bruises in varying states of healing, though he avoided putting any marks on the rest of your body. He did not want to hurt his precious (y/n) after all.

You tried to persuade yourself that this was alright. After all, it was better than being on the street, and Broly did have his gentle moments, moments where you could almost overlook the madness of it all and feel content and protected in his arms. He could be nice, he could be polite, but you were always afraid of what might happen if someone made him angry.

And then one day you found out.


You'd met your friend, (f/n) for lunch one day to return the gigantic heels that you now had no purpose for.

"I hear you met a guy," she said, smiling, "I've seen you around with him a few times. How come you've been so quiet about it?"

"It...it happened pretty quickly," you said quietly, stirring at your cup of coffee. "It was a love at first sight sort of situation." On his end, not yours, but (f/n) didn't need to know that.

"And he's such a big guy, too. You sure did get lucky--I bet you feel pretty safe walking around with him!" she grinned.

"Yeah...safe." If only she knew.

"So have you heard about what happened to your parents?"

"No, what?" Not that you cared. Between your father (f/n)'s drinking and your mother (m/n)'s complete inability to do anything but make excuses, you had long ago written them off. Leaving the house was only the last step and you hadn't bothered to check in on them since.

"Your dad finally binged too much and your mother--oh my god, is that--?" Your friend looked past your shoulder to the restaurant door.

"Is who what?" you asked, turning around. You froze when you saw the guy.

It was your ex-boyfriend, and he was walking towards you and (f/n).

It wasn't like you had parted on bad terms, really, because he was a pretty nice guy. You just hadn't seen him in a few years, not since that ugly business with your father.

"Nice to meet you two ladies," he said, smiling and taking a seat, "Fancy meeting you two on my lunch hour."

"Oh, did you get that job at the bookstore?"

"Yup. Nice quiet work shuffling them around in the back. Working in a huge store makes avoiding people easy. Bet you'd never thought you'd hear something like that from me!"

You laughed and realized it was the first genuine one you had produced in quite a long while. The conversation then went on, and lasted an hour before you saw a familiar figure stooping to enter the restaurant.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Well, you were horrified, surprised, and yet expecting it at the same time.

"(Y/n)," Broly said, nodding at you. He nodded briefly to (f/n) and then turned his eyes on your ex, (e/n).

Unknowingly, you held your breath watching him study the other male, and only calmed down a little when (e/n) stood and turned to greet Broly. "Hi, I'm (e/n), I used to date (y/n)."

Broly stood quietly looming, and you watched as your ex visibly wilted. "Er, yes...I need to go. Lots to do at my new job, you know."

He left quickly, and, sighing, you proceeded to introduce Broly to (f/n), completely unaware of his blanked-out eyes.


Broly had been slightly rougher than usual that night. Owing to the fresh trail of bruises up your neck, you had the feeling that seeing another man--one you'd previously dated, to boot--had prompted him to properly mark his territory, as it were.

But you had relaxed by the next morning. You woke late, as usual, and decided that you would head over to the bookstore to not only explain but also apologize for Broly's behavior. (E/n) deserved that much, at least.

On reaching the plaza you noticed a big crowd, around one small area. Pushing through the crowd wasn't too bad, but when you reached the front you gasped at the gory sight.

(E/n) was speared, from bottom to top, on a pike that had been jammed into the ground, and judging by the blood on the ground his death had not been a quick one. You noticed a young woman on the ground at his feet, bawling loudly as police tried to get her on her feet, and briefly wondered who she was, until your mind lead you to another issue.

One you tried desperately to throttle even as it appeared.

He did it, didn't he?

Chapter Text

Pointless Endeavor

You didn't accuse Broly of anything, but it was almost absurdly easy to know that he at least had a hand in (e/n)'s death. For the next week, you were held that much closer at night; your hand was gripped that much tighter when you were out with him; and your "attention" was demanded at least twice a day, usually without warning.

You were relieved when it finally eased up.

It was at this point that you began to hear more about his job. The gang that he'd gotten in with had flourished considerably (no doubt, you thought, because of him) and the boss of it had give Broly a kick upstairs and made him his personal bodyguard. Or at least, that was how it was explained to you.

One evening you were taken to meet him.

"It's nice to meet you," you said politely, "Broly tells me you're quite fair."

"That's the best anyone can hope to be in business," he replied. "After owning a nice suit it's one of the most important things."

"It must be difficult to find suits in Broly's size," you laugh.

"That's what tailors are for. Expensive, but damned if it's not effective. The nicer the suit, the more intimidating the man that's in it."

"How so?"

"If a man drops thirty grand on his suit, what does that tell you about him?"

"That...he has money."

"Exactly. And money is power."

Inwardly, you scoffed. Broly obviously hadn't had to work too hard here or this man wouldn't go on about money like he was.

Broly himself appeared a second later and took your hand.

"And there he is. Most valuable employee here...except myself, that is. Good of you to bring Ms. (y/n) here, but I have to ask, when are you kids getting married?"

You paused and felt your hand being squeezed.

"I've been so busy," Broly said, "It didn't occur to me."

He looked almost sad.

"You should think about it, then. Helps to steady a man, a family does."

You sincerely doubted anything would steady Broly, but you stayed quiet. This man--this whole operation, really, was quite different from what you'd expected. Funny, though, that they were less frightening than he was.

The idea of having to marry Broly was even more frightening. As if you weren't already practically a prisoner...having to add that to it too? You could still remember your parents' unhappy marriage, and for a fearful few seconds wondered if Broly might turn out like that too. Your mother always talked like your father had just "changed, the instant we got married, he just got so much worse" and a stab of fear coursed through you at the thought that Broly could do the same thing!

You remained mostly quiet the rest of the evening, answering questions now and then. Towards the end, you walked over to get a drink and stopped cold when you felt a gun press to your back.

"Walk towards the door," said a male voice behind you. "And don't scream."

"Look, this isn't--"

"Do as I tell you, or you won't live to see tomorrow."

You obeyed, and despite your earlier thoughts found yourself wondering if this nut knew what he was getting into. If you lived long enough to see what would happen, of course.

"Look," you said, "I'm with Broly, and--"

"And a big chunk of muscle isn't going to do you any good. Now move."

"If you think this is going to get him to do whatever it is you want him to do, you're wrong."

"Oh no? Look, everyone knows about you, alright? Everyone. And do you know what else everyone knows? That Broly'll do anything for you."

"You're making a mistake."

"Shut up. Keep walking."

Again, you obeyed. You were taken into a car and blindfolded--but you remained calm, and tried to comfort yourself with the fact that once this was found out, Broly would be along.

I thought I was scared of him, you found yourself thinking, But on the other hand, if...if he doesn't...


You'd cooperated fully, with no attempts to escape, which seemed to have baffled your captors, of whom there appeared to be five. They watched you closely all the next day, and you even had to have one come into the bathroom with you when you went--though at least he did have the courtesy to turn his back. Though only briefly.

Just after the (meager) dinner they gave you, you heard two of them talking, and though you tried to hear what you could, you could only grasp about half the conversation.

"...telling you, he's going to show. Trust me."

"...no desire to get on the old man's bad side."

"...you big baby. What's the matter with you?"

"How long has it been since we..."

"...another hour or two."

You shook your head. What were they trying to get out of Broly? Money? Did they want him to work for them? It was hard to tell, but you kept your ears open. Until an hour later when there was a loud bang just outside.

"What the hell was that?!" one of your captors drew out a gun and headed for the door.

"Probably it's him, letting us know he's here. Damned fool thing to do," the one next to you drew a gun as well and followed the first.

"That's the dumbest thing you guys ever--" The third stayed beside you, but when he heard gunshots, started to head out as well. He screamed, and you turned back around as the other two came running back inside.

"We need to go. NOW!" The first shouted from his position by the door, "The hell with the job, the hell with the money, we don't need it that--"

CRASH

First one massive arm and then another came bursting through the wall. One went around the first's shoulders; the other hand crushed his jaw, twisted his neck--and then pulled his lifeless body back through.

The ceiling began to give way, and when the dust settled, the other four stepped forward, guns ready.

"Where the hell did he go?!" the second said.

"Right here."

The second whipped around, and from your spot under the kitchen table, you could barely keep track of things, they happened so quickly.

Broly smirked, and grabbed the second's wrist, twisted his arm back and--

You cringed and hid your face as an even louder CRACK was heard. There were shots, there was more screaming, but above all of it you could define one more thing--his laughter. He was laughing at them.

Bludgeoning. You were sure he was bludgeoning them with something, but you didn't ask what. You didn't want to know.

After a terrifying minute, you realized that everything was silent, and opened your eyes, crawling out from under the table.

Broly was standing there next to it, seething, his arms covered in blood and dust. When you appeared his expression shifted, however, and he took you into a tight hug.

"(Y/n)," he said, "Don't scare me like that."

"I'm..." you shifted a bit in his bloody grip, and met his eyes. Or at least you would have, if his eyes weren't as blank as they always were during his rages. "I'm sorry. I won't."

"You're mine," he said, "And if anyone tries to take you like this again, I won't be so nice."

"Th-that was nice?"

"It was quick." He smirked down at you, and placed you on the edge of the table, "This, however, will not be."

"Wh-what? Here? Now?" Was he mad? There were--there was--!

But he wasn't going to hear of any protests, and as the coppery scent of blood assaulted your nose he began to answer your question.

Repeatedly.

Chapter Text

Sanity Tank

The idea of having such a fuss made over you made you a little uncomfortable.

But...it made Broly happy. That was the part you couldn't understand.

It wasn't like you couldn't afford it, you were a pretty shrewd woman when it came to finances--thanks to your parents being so horrible at it and essentially showing you every way not to handle money. There weren't many people to invite, and the guest list seemed to be made up mostly of Broly's, well, coworkers. And...

You sighed at the thought, but you had to consider them.

You took a deep breath as you knocked on the door, wondering if what you'd heard was true. (F/n) had explained over a few more lunches that your father had shaped up, although only marginally to "functioning alcoholic" status due to some liver problem, and your mother was just as much the enabler as she ever was. The boat was afloat, but for how long nobody knew.

"Door's open!" you heard your father's voice call, which set your heart racing. But you took a deep breath and were about to come in when your mother answered the door.

She looked...well, like she'd aged ten years, to be quite honest. It had only been a few, and she looked like that?

"Oh, (y/n)..." she smiled, "It's...it's nice to see you again. Come on in."

"I don't...I mean, if it's not a good time, I just wanted to drop this off..." You tried to avoid it, but there was something about the look in your mother's eyes that persuaded you to step inside.

"What is it?" she asked, and when you handed the invitation over for inspection, she looked over it with a smile. "Married? My little girl? That's...that's wonderful."

"What's going on?"

Your father wandered in from the other room, leaning rather heavily on a cane. Absently you wondered what that was about, but you made no point of asking questions.

"(Y/n)'s getting married, dear," your mother said.

"'Bout damn time the worthless brat did something useful," he slurred.

"(Father's name)! She's right here!" Your mother protested.

He looked at you and seemed rather shocked at your being there. "Oh, (y/n)...there you are."

You shook your head. "I was just leaving an invitation to the wedding. I don't...I don't want to inconvenience you two or anything, I know how...busy you both are."

"Is he nice? I mean, I've seen you around town a few times with a big guy, I'm guessing that's him?"

"Yeah," you said as you followed (mother's name) into the kitchen, "That's him. His name's Broly."

"What an odd name...but I guess if he makes you happy, then it doesn't matter what his name is." she smiled briefly. "Doesn't drink, does he?"

"Not a drop. He's...he says it makes him angry, so he doesn't do it." You shrugged. "He's always worried about hurting me, even by accident. Like I'm some delicate little flower."

"Well...well, that's good, then, that he treats you so well," (m/n) replied. "Just...keep doing good, okay?"

You gave her a hug and left, feeling more than a little uneasy about it all but resigning yourself to nothing having changed. (F/n) still drank too much and (m/n) still contented herself with avoiding him rather than actually dealing with the problem of getting away from him. And you were out, taking care of yourself the best way you could.


You went shopping for a few things for the wedding after that, and got home somewhat later than usual--Broly, it seemed, had come home early, and looked almost panicked when you walked in.

"Where were you?" he asked quickly.

"I went to give an invitation to my parents," you replied, setting the bag down, "And I got some more things for the wedding."

"...oh. Well...tell me next time you're going to be late. I...was worried."

"You don't have to be," you said, "After that last time no one's going to come too close to me with the intent of doing me any harm."

As you walked closer he pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly.

"Broly, I--what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied softly, shifting you around a bit to make your sitting on him more comfortable, "Now nothing's wrong, is what I meant. See what you do to me?"

"I still don't understand what you mean when you say that."

He smiled down at you. "You make it quiet."

"I...make it quiet? What do I make--?"

"Me." He was very nearly cradling you at this point, holding you like some porcelain figurine.

"I make you quiet?"

He brought you up and whispered, "And you're safe."

"How does my being safe..."

"...everything is alright when you're here," he went on, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"What did you do before?"

Broly went quiet and seemed to think for a minute. "I was alone."

"You had your father..."

"He hated me. Hated everything about me. Hated that he couldn't control me, so he made a way to do it. But...but he did bring you...so there is that. But I won't let anyone take you like he tried to do. If they do that, they're not going to like what happens next."

"Hey," you said quietly, hoping this quiet mood of his would continue, "Let's not talk about that, alright? It makes you upset."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, the wedding, or something..."

"Yes, that," he said, smiling once more, and stroking your face, "I love you, (y/n)."

His eyes flickered.

Your heart began to race but somehow, you managed to say, without any tremble in your voice, "I love you too."


The day of the wedding arrived and the ceremony itself was completely uneventful.

Broly looked surprisingly calm, and had given you a genuine smile when you'd reached the end of the aisle. For once, he'd just looked...content, and despite the situation you were happy he was getting a bit better at controlling himself. It wasn't as if you had any other prospects, and you could do so much worse than him, you were sure. It was a mantra you'd been repeating for months now.

The reception was quiet, at first, until you noticed your mother approaching you and Broly after a (very awkward) dance.

Followed closely by your father.

"You both look wonderful," (m/n) said, looking first at Broly, and then at you. "And it's beautiful in here, it really is."

"Thanks," you replied.

Broly just nodded.

"Strong silent type, huh? Well, that's fine. You obviously make (y/n) happy, so if she's fine with it, so am I."

"And he makes enough to support her and pay for this lacy soiree," came your father's slurred tone from behind, and then beside, your mother. He'd stepped up unevenly and you cringed just at the sight of him. "You sure got lucky, (y/n). He could probably do better than you, but he chose you."

"I only wanted (y/n) anyway," Broly answered quickly.

Inwardly, you cringed.

"I sure hope she's good in the sack, because she sure as hell doesn't have anything else to--"

"(F/n)!" your mother snapped, "Not now!"

"What, the kid deserves to know what he's getting into!"

Broly's grip on your hand tightened. "And why are you saying things like that?" he asked.

"Oh," (f/n) said, "She's never been much good for anything. One disappointment after another, you know, average grades, no hope in college, positively stupid dreams about writing..."

"I think her dreams are good," Broly said severely, "You need them if you're ever going to get anywhere."

"Whoa...pulled the wool over his eyes, have you, (y/n)?" (f/n) asked, looking now at you, "All I can say is, hope it lasts more than a year..."

He wandered off at that, and you lead Broly away before he could say anything.

You could see his eyes changing already, and squeezed his hand. "Not now," you said, "Everyone's here. This is about us. Can you wait until after this?"

He returned the grip and took a deep breath, whispering to you once you were relatively alone and standing with him in the corner, "He's going to pay for saying that about you. Don't you understand, (y/n)? He can't be allowed to hurt you like that. I only want to help you!"

"But...but it won't help me if you kill him," you said, "Whatever you do after the reception--don't kill him. Can you do that?"

His eyes faded a bit more and he smirked widely.

"Alright. I won't kill him."

Chapter Text

Luca

It was hard to believe that your father was even still alive, but he was.

Your mother called about a week after the wedding in a panic, and seemed to be angry at you.

"Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean?" you asked. It was hard to even tell what she was saying, she was crying.

"You told him to do it, I know you did! Did you even think about me, did you give a damn about me?!"

"Slow down and tell me what happened!" you shouted into the phone, though you were already wondering what Broly had done. This had to be it.

"Your husband, that Broly. I know he did it, you knew all the time you were going to tell him to do it. How could you do that to your own father? He's missing a toe, his femurs are broken, they're rebuilding his goddamned shoulder because the socket is broken into who knows how many pieces, and his jaw is wired shut!"

"Would you mind telling me why you think Broly did it?!"

"Because your father told me, (y/n)!"

You couldn't help but laugh. Nothing had changed, really. It was the truth, of course, but your mother never doubted anything that came out of your father's mouth. Even when he said you'd done things you hadn't done as a kid, things that were definitely not part of your personality. She'd believed him when he said that you were the one who'd stolen money from her wallet, and so on. You had long since lost any pity you had for her. You'd been willing to at least tolerate their company for the wedding's sake, but now, well...

"And you believed him?"

"Don't you believe everything Broly tells you?"

"Yes, but that's because he doesn't freaking LIE TO ME!" you shouted, "All dad's ever done is lie! Lie, lie, lie! Getting me into trouble, doing everything he could to make me know that I was worth less than the bottle to him!"

"How can you say that? He's your FATHER, he wouldn't do things like that, I'd know!"

"Well, he's a really bad one! You know what, I don't care. I don't even want to hear about it. I don't even want to hear from you. When you're ready to leave him, then you can come talk to me. But I can't be part of this anymore, it's why I left in the first place."

You hung up at that, sighing. Your father was lucky that all Broly did was break a few of his bones. The bastard deserved much worse...but you didn't want to create more problems than were necessary.


Nothing much changed after the wedding, although you did notice that Broly's ring never came off. But that wasn't much of a surprise, as fanatical as he was over the two of you. Together, as often as he had the time...which, thankfully, was a little less often now that he'd gotten that little promotion. It was almost adorable to see his eyes light up when he saw you at the end of a long day. And then, of course, there was the "attention"...

He didn't hit you. Didn't scream at you. Didn't drink or do drugs. You kept reminding yourself of those things, and bearing his odd remarks got easier over time. He was already far superior to your father, he just...had a few quirks, that was all. Keep him happy, and he would keep you happy.

A few days after that phone call you were heading to the doctor.

You'd organized the finances and only just now had gotten around to sorting out co-pays and such...to be frank, you were eager to make sure that you were in good health so went in for a physical. They asked a few questions, weighed you, which turned out average, and took blood...though, the most embarrassing part was having to pee in a cup for a urinalysis. Then they'd sent you back to an exam room and told you to wait.

So you did, wondering what to cook when you got back home. There wasn't a lot available, you'd probably have to do a little shopping to get a good dinner for the night. There were a few sales to hit, and if you were quick you might be able to take advantage of a few of them.

A doctor walked back in, looking over some paper on a clipboard, "Well, I have good news for you, Mrs. (y/n)."

"Am I healthy, then?"

"Yes, yes, I would say that. That's a good thing, that means that both of you are doing well."

You felt suddenly cold. "What?"

He couldn't possibly mean that...

"I realize you were only just married, but..." he smiled briefly, "Things happen."

You were, thankfully, able to get an appointment with an OBGYN a few days later, and after a short visit and discussion about your health (as well as a quick ultrasound to see that all was well), you were on your way to the store and then home. The picture you'd been given consumed every thought you had--this picture of a 13-week fetus, that you were frightened for. Broly demanded all of your time whenever he could, and you wondered how he would take having to share it with a child. What would he say? Or do? How would he take it, would he...hurt you, hoping you'd lose it?

You were so intent on the picture that you put the groceries away before noticing that Broly was sitting in the den, and when he noticed you, he looked up, grinning. You put the picture in your pocket as you walked over. "Something good happen today?"

"You came back, so there's that." he said. Once again you found yourself pulled into his lap, into a tight embrace that he seemed almost afraid to loosen.

"Why wouldn't I come back?"

He didn't answer.

"You don't have to worry," you said, taking a deep breath.

"You're shaking...are you okay?" Broly put one hand on the side of your face.

"I...I..."

"I didn't scare you, did I?"

"N-no, it's..."

"It's okay, (y/n)," he said, pulling you even closer, "If you're afraid of anything, just...tell me what, and it'll be gone."

"It's not that, Broly, it's..." You thought you might as well come out with it, it'd get the whole thing over with faster. So you took the picture out and showed it to him.

"What's this?"

"I-it's...it's our...we....I'm pregnant. It's...it's a picture of your baby."

He paused, and seemed to get confused. "How?"

"What do you mean, how?"

"How did you get a baby?"

"Y...you mean you don't know how babies are made?" It would be hilarious if you weren't so frightened.

"No." The nails of his other hand clenched into your side, so you quickly began to explain. You guessed that his father must not have bothered to teach him about that...what other explanation could there be for a man Broly's age not knowing something like this?

"...so that's how it happens," you said, when you finished, "It'll grow for another six months, then it'll be here, and...you'll have a family."

He paused again, lifting your shirt and putting one of his enormous hands on your slight belly. "And it just...stays in you?"

"Yes." You went silent, and after taking a deep breath, said, "You're going to be a father."

He seemed to cringe. "I don't know how."

"You don't have to know how," you said, feeling a sudden pang at the sight of his disappointment. He'd taken it well, if looked upset at the idea of not knowing how to parent was any indication. You put your hand over the one of his that was on your stomach. "I can help you."

"But...but what if I hurt you? Or it?"

"The doctor will tell you what would hurt me. You...you can come with me when I go, if you want." You didn't want to say that, but it seemed to calm him down.

Broly smiled, and rubbed your belly briefly. "You're right. You...you know what to do. Do you...know what it is yet?"

"Not yet. They'll be able to tell in...I don't know, another month or so."

"Well," he said, standing up suddenly with you in his arms, "Then I guess we have a baby now."

"Yeah," you replied, a bit dizzied from the sudden movement, "I...I guess so."

"I love you, (y/n). And...and the baby. I'm not...I'm not going to be like my father."

"I love you too. And I know you won't."

But it wasn't that you were scared of.

Chapter Text

Seed of the Rose

It had been two months, and you'd woken up to find Broly's head on your stomach more often than not.

"Good morning," you said quietly.

"It's moving," he replied, not budging an inch from his spot.

"It's normal for the baby to do that," you said, "It's figuring out that it can do things, so it's doing them."

He went silent.

"Broly? Are you alright?"

"I made it," he said, "I've never made anything before."

You put your hand on his head, and felt puzzled when he flinched. He said he loved you all the time. Why, then, did your touch seem to scare him?

"Are you okay?" You asked gently. It was odd, sometimes you were scared of him, and then there were times like this. Times where it was obvious he needed help with...well, everything. Where it was obvious, how broken he was.

"...I don't know what to do," he said.

"I do," you replied, smiling just a little as you stroked his hair, "Don't worry."

"I can't not worry," Broly shuffled up so he could meet your eyes. "Every day I think that I wouldn't know what to do if I came back and you weren't here. Every day I wonder when you'll figure out you'll have it better somewhere else and leave."

"I married you," you said, taking one of his huge hands in both of your own, "That means I made a promise not to leave. And I am going to keep it."

He just looked so lost...

"I'm not going to leave you. Alright?" You squeezed his hand when you noticed his eyes blanking.

"Mine," his voice shifted, "You're mine."

"Yes," you said, beginning to shake as he moved his other hand to the side of your face. "I am. I'm not going anywhere."

"If you did..." his nails clenched at your skin, "...if you did, I'd...I'd have to..."

"I--" you cringed as his grip tightened yet again. "--Broly, please."

"...you can't leave me. You aren't allowed to. Do you understand?"

You felt blood welling, and your heart beginning to race. "Broly--"

"You'd be...you'd have to be...I'd have to hurt you."

"I won't--"

"...I love you, (y/n), and if I can't have you..."

"Broly, you can, I'm here, I..." What had set it off? What had you done? Your mind was racing for the answer, but didn't seem to be finding one.

"...then hell will," he whispered in your ear.

"I love you too, Broly." Your eyes were wide, tears were gathering at the edge, but it didn't seem to dissuade him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you said quickly.

"Tell me why." He moved over you and your breath hitched in your throat when he put one hand around your neck.

"Why what?"

"Tell me why you love me. If I'm convinced...well..."

"I feel safe with you," you lied, "I've never had to worry about being hurt with you. You're gentle, you always seem to be thinking of me...I just..."

"I don't think that's enough."

"I don't know what else to say! That's why I love you! I can't explain it more than I have. Please...please, Broly, don't..."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No!"

"That I'd believe you actually wanted to be with me? I'm a monster. Why would any woman want that?"

"I don't think you're a monster," you said, now pleading tearfully, "I don't, I don't. I can't see that, all I can see is the good in you. What...who's...has someone been telling you that I don't? That...that I...?"

"No one's had to tell me," he replied, "You're afraid of me. That's all I need to know."

"Please--"

"Hush," he whispered, "...hush, my (y/n)..."

You found yourself pulled rather suddenly against his chest, and, quaking, you simply let him do it without any resistance. Things had been going so well...they really had, and...and this, now, this...

"I believe you."

You took a deep breath.

"If I didn't, I'd have broken every bone in your body before you got the second sentence out. I just..." he pulled you up roughly so, once more, he could meet your eyes with his own blank ones. "...I had to be sure. Can't you understand that? I can't take a single chance on losing you."

"You haven't been," you said, taking another slow, deep breath, "You've done everything right. I'm happy with you."

Silence.

"Didn't you say you believed me? There's no way I could find anyone better than you. Why would I give you up? Don't you think you're..."

"Be quiet." His voice broke, and his eyes were shifting again.

You went silent, and lay there for the next half-hour as he held you, one hand resting on your stomach. That had been far too close, and you still weren't entirely convinced that he believed you. What if...what if that happened again? What if he...?

"(Y/n)?"

It was his gentle voice again.

"W-what?"

"You're crying...why are you crying?"

"I--" What could you say? What could you--

One hand went back to your face, and you started trembling. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I thought...I thought you were going to," you replied, bracing for the worst.

"Why would I do that?"

"You thought I was going to leave you," You said quickly, "And I'm not. I wish you could really believe me when I say it."

"But (y/n)...how can I really know?" he started stroking your (h/c) hair. "You might do anything."

"You have to trust me. I've married you. I'm still here. What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere?"

He didn't respond.


Broly was...nicer, you would say, after that incident. He seemed at least a little more secure in the knowledge that you'd given him as he accompanied you to doctor's visits. You were being told, as the next month or two went by, to be more careful, to eat better, to do this and that, and he redirected his attention to making sure that you followed the doctor's advice.

"How much bigger is it going to get?"

The question came at about week 33, a little bit into the eighth month. You were both in bed, and he was holding you in his lap like he'd grown accustomed to doing of late.

"Not too much bigger," you said, "In a few weeks it'll be here."

"It's gotten so big. How can you hold it? It looks like it would hurt."

"That's what that part of the body is made for," you said, smiling briefly, "It doesn't hurt. It will hurt when it's time for the baby to come out, though."

His head tilted and you felt a rush of fear--you could almost see the wheels turning in his head--so quickly, you added, "But that's why they have medicine to give me, so it won't hurt as much."

"As long as you're going to be okay," he said, hugging you as tightly as he could without crushing your belly between the two of you.

"I will. You've heard the birthing plan, you've heard everything the doctor's been saying, right?"

"Right. He says if the baby doesn't come in a few weeks, they'll take it out."

"It might have to stay in the hospital for a while. Heck, even I might."

"It makes you weaker, doesn't it?" he asked, in a tone you would almost dare call pleased.

"Yes," you said, "I'm carrying extra weight, I'm supporting a whole other being's nutritional needs. I won't be doing much of anything like I usually do for awhile yet."

"Good. You can't leave, then."

"I won't. With a baby, how could I leave you?" It was an awful way to reason, but...

Broly didn't answer, and continued holding you. Whether you were more afraid of him, or whether you more pitied him, you still weren't sure.

Chapter Text

Unknown

As the ninth month edged closer and closer, you grew less and less active. You had expected to feel tired, of course, but this was a fatigue you were ready to be rid of.

Broly had started coming home early, and tonight was no exception. Shortly after you had a small dinner he came through the door and straight to you. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Tired as always," you said, smiling weakly, "It's moving more, too."

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning down to put a hand over your belly, "Sure is. Hello in there..."

There was another kick, and you returned the smile Broly gave you. And against your better judgment, you asked a question you'd been wondering the answer to for a while now.

"Are you scared of me?"

Broly looked first surprised, then sheepish, but replied, "...yes."

"Why?"

He rubbed your belly again. "You...you haven't hurt me. Yet."

"I'm not going to."

He went on as if he hadn't heard you, "...every day I wait for you to hurt me. And when you don't, I sleep good. But...but then tomorrow comes."

"And you start to worry again?"

Broly nodded.

"What can I do to show you I won't leave?" You took a deep breath. "Ever."

"I...I don't know," he replied, "I don't want to keep doing this. I hate it. I love you and I keep doing this."

"It's okay," you said quietly, very slowly cuddling up to him, "Here...take a deep breath."

He obeyed.

"I'm here. I'm not leaving."

He delicately put his arms around you.

"Think that. 'She's here. She's not leaving.'"

He stayed quiet.

"Look at your ring when you think that. The ring's a promise I made with you." You tried to keep your tone calm and your voice gentle.

He did as you said.

"She is not leaving."

"She is not leaving," Broly repeated.

"She is here."

"She is here."

"We are together and that is not going to change."

"We..."

"Look at me, Broly. It's okay. You're scared."

"It's...it's not...I mean, I..."

"What is it?" you asked, sitting up. You felt suddenly cramped and vaguely claustrophobic.

"How can you love me?"

"Love isn't something you can explain," you said, "Can you explain why you love me?"

He went quiet.

"You can't, can you?"

"I just know I do."

"That's how I feel."

"But you act so..."

"I just show it differently," you said, shifting a bit as you felt another cramp. "Not everyone shows love the same way."

"No?"

"No."

He seemed to settle. "But you're still scared of me."

"Sometimes I am. When you start to think that I'm going to leave you, you make me think that you're going to hurt me. Anyone would be scared of that." Oh, gods, why had you lead to this? There had to be a safe way out. You just had to keep talking nicely, and it'd all be okay...

"I'm sorry, I just...I don't know...I don't know anything else."

"I can show you," you said, gently turning his face towards you, "But you have to remember not to say you would hurt me. Unless I ask you to."

"...why would you want me to say I'd hurt you?"

"...sometimes I like it when you're a bit rough," you said with a slight laugh, "See, leaving a bruise on my neck, I like that kind of pain. It's a good feeling, a good kind of pain. It's a way that you show you love me, because you want it seen, what you're doing."

"Yeah...I guess it is."

You sat talking with him like that over his dinner, and tried as best you could to impress upon him that he didn't have to threaten you with pain to get you to stay, that you weren't going anywhere, that he could trust you. And thankfully as the time passed, he seemed to get it. Not once did you see his eyes or hear his speech, change. Vaguely you wondered what that angry, blank-eyed side of him even was, but...you had other things to worry about anyway. He was calm right now and you didn't want to agitate him by being agitated yourself.

The cramps, however, continued, and you had a vague inkling in the back of your mind that they were getting more frequent...you looked at the clock on the wall when the next one came, and then did so again when another cramp happened. Twelve minutes.

"Are you okay?" you heard Broly asked, "You keep looking at the clock. Is something going to happen?"

"I don't know yet," you said, looking down at your belly. "I think I'm just...tired..."

He lead you over to the sofa and held you gently with one hand on your stomach. "You don't look like you feel good."

You sat with him in silence, held like a delicate figurine of glass, and waited as another five cramps came. The last two were six minutes apart.

"I think..." You took a deep breath, "I think it's time to go to the hospital."

"It is?"

"You remember the doctor telling you about contractions? That's what I'm having right now. It means the baby's going to be here soon."

Broly nodded.

"I have the bags packed already. You remember where those are?"

"Yes." He set you down and rushed off to get them.

Well, you thought, Ready or not.


"Alright...alright, we're nearly there...come on, (y/n), push, you can do it..."

The doctors were encouraging you, but Broly stood quietly beside you and held your hand, apparently unable to say a thing, stroking your face with his free hand, as if trying to reassure you.

It would be adorable if you weren't in so much pain.

You kept pushing, and breathing, until finally--

--you heard the baby crying.

"And...it's a girl!" The doctor said, bringing the wailing infant up so you and Broly could both see her.

You smiled. There was the tail--what a shock that had been to see on the second ultrasound!--and her hair, halfway down her back...

She looks so much like him, you thought, waiting as they cut the cord and cleaned her up. It was an impatient few minutes for both of you, but finally she was handed back and you could get to that skin-to-skin that they had told you was so important.

She kept mewling as you held her bare against your chest, and after a few more quiet minutes, you handed her to Broly.

She went silent and you could see her eyes opening.

"Am...am I doing it right?" he looked at you as he held her in the crook of his elbow. Then he said what you were thinking, "She's so tiny."

"Well, she's a baby, they tend that way. And look, she has a tail like you."

Once the doctors seemed reasonably certain you were alright (none of them seemed eager to take your daughter from Broly, but you couldn't really blame them for that), they changed out your hospital bed for another while you showered, and soon enough you were back in the bed again.

"Could you hand her back to me?" you asked, "She needs to eat."

"What's she supposed to eat? They didn't leave..." Broly handed her back almost nervously.

"Just watch." You smiled briefly and after a little finagling you got her into position...and started breastfeeding.

"...is that why they got bigger?" he asked.

You nodded. "Did you have any names ready?"

He looked away. "No, I...I didn't...I mean, I never..."

"It's okay. We can come up with something together. We made her together, so I'm sure we can figure out a name for her together. Alright?"

He spoke after you'd finished and burped her. "Okay."

There was a pause as he reached his other hand up and touched the side of her face with the tip of one finger. "And I thought you were fragile. She's..." He was stricken silent when, as he was taking his hand back, her little hand grabbed his finger. "She won't let go."

"She loves her daddy already, see." You paused, and had a rush of thoughts. This was a chance...this was a real chance. You could make sure that neither of you repeated anything that happened to the two of you. You just had to remind him, and watch yourself, too. "It's your job to show her how people are allowed to treat her. You've got to build her up. You've got to show her that she's capable of whatever she wants to be capable of. And if she's as strong as you..."

"I'm not going to do what my father did."

"No, of course not. You should show her how to control it, herself, but never do what he did." You watched as she drifted off. "See, see that, she's asleep. She trusts you; she feels safe around you, like I do."

"...Voca."

"What?" you asked.

"I heard it once, it sounded pretty. Is that okay?"

"That's fine. Voca it is, then."

Chapter Text

Explosion

Voca was a fairly average baby.

For the first month she ate and slept like any other infant, and while she cried, she didn't seem to do it too often.

Broly seemed to go quiet when she started crying, but tried to do things as often as he could to make things easier for you. Strangely, though, he seemed to enjoy changing diapers because, as he put it, "It's almost impossible to fail at."

You'd often find him up early tending her, and this morning, after the eight-week mark, was one of those times.

"How's she doing?" you asked, bleary-eyed and still in your pajamas.

"She's fine," he replied, looking up from her sleeping face. "She's just...look at how small she is."

"Well, she is a baby," you smiled at the sight. It was almost impossible not to, really. He was trying. He was trying, and it was working.

"I've just never seen anything like it...and that she looks like me, too." He reached his free hand down to her little face and smiled as she grabbed one of his fingers in both hands.

And proceeded to start gumming it.

"She must be hungry," you said, yawning as you started to take your night shirt off.

"You do that so quickly now," Broly replied with a laugh.

"I guess I've gotten used to it." You took Voca from him, sat in his lap, and proceeded to feed her.

"You're both so beautiful." he said suddenly.

You blushed. "Thank you."

"And you're both mine."

"Yes...and because we're yours, you're protecting us, right?"

"Right."

He was twitching. Never a good sign. Voca was slowing down, so you thought now was as good a time as any. As you pulled her away from your breast, though, she started wailing.

Broly cringed.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

You covered yourself up and stood, turning to note--oh gods, his eyes had shifted.

"Broly--" You started trying to shush Voca, and for just a moment she quieted down. But by then it was too late.

"Is that what you see me as? A shield?"

"No, I was--"

"Be quiet. I just want you to be quiet. FOR ONCE, JUST--"

He struck you across the face and sent you flying into the wall--thankfully, it was back first and Voca was unharmed. But you--you were instantly in pain, all over. The fear washed over you--it was going to happen this time, wasn't it? He was going to do it this time.

"A shield to hide behind."

You started to speak but he cut you off before you could form the first word.

"A piece of muscle to do your dirty work for you. At least my BOSS pays me for it."

You couldn't make any sounds. Nothing would come out.

"...while you sit here. Not alone, I'm sure." Broly's shadow loomed over you, and you sat hunched over, trying to protect Voca, who kept crying.

He bent over and pulled you to your feet by your hair. You screamed--

--and Voca's wailing grew even louder as Broly snatched her right out of your hands.

"NO!" You felt the shout, and then heard it, but there was no time to puzzle about that particular impossibility. You lurched forward to take her back as gently as you could. He held her over your head, and seemed to laugh.

"See, little one, I can protect you from the nasty, plotting--"

You saw doubt in his face. Voca's crying hadn't stopped; if anything it had gotten louder.

"I SAID--"

"YOU SCARED HER!" you shouted at him, "She's AFRAID OF YOU, YOU MONSTER!"

Anger crossed his face, but then, so did confusion. This enormous man tried rocking her as you continued to no avail to try and take her back. Sang a quick lullaby. But neither of those things worked.

"Why would she be scared of me?"

"You could've killed her, getting mad at me like that!" you were shaking, both in rage and in terror. He was quieting down, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"I wouldn't have." He seemed almost to growl at you.

"Not on purpose, but you almost did anyway. What happens the next time you get angry, Broly? What if you do kill her?"

"I won't! Don't you say I would!"

But the seconds that felt more like eons ticked by, one by one, and Broly seemed to consider what you said, or at least looked like he was. His eyes returned to normal; he kept rocking her, and not once did she stop crying. Finally, defeated, he handed her back to you.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and sat back in the rocking chair, trying to ease Voca's crying. What finally did it was a ten-minute stretch of her wailing and wearing herself out, before you uncovered yourself and let her continue her eating.

"I..."

You looked up at Broly, who had an expression blended somewhere between horror and guilt.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to..."

"But you did." Your own racing heart had only just now started to slow, but for Voca's sake you kept your tone even. "And you could have lost your daughter."

"I could've lost you, too..." He sank to his knees and placed his head in his hands. "I don't like it, (y/n). I don't want to be like that. I don't want to lose you. Either of you."

"There are things you can do," you said gently, "But you have to make an effort."

"I've never had to do it on my own before." Then came the tears; they were rolling down his face in two liquid lines of utter misery. "Please. Please, help me. I don't want to do this anymore."

"What we will do is, tomorrow when you go to work, I will go with you. Your boss is a good man--"

"H-he's a criminal." Broly hiccuped. "He has people shot and thrown in the river."

"He takes care of his own, though," you said, "He undoubtedly knows psychiatrists. You might have to take medicine, and talk to people about your anger." Goodness knows you weren't going to try and do this on your own. You wanted a professional with a reputation--the best in the business, if possible. Broly's boss seemed like the kind of a man who'd know those kinds of people.

It would all work out.

Everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

Watching

Broly's boss took the news rather well, and said that he would look into something that would help. It might take time, was what he added, but he seemed confident.

You were frightened above all, but the fear that the incident put into Broly didn't seem to fade, and he was gentle most of the time from that point on. A few weeks passed in relative calm, and you received little updates that his boss had something in the works and to continue as you had been.

Things were fine for you. For now.

Broly, meanwhile, seemed happier, but he was complaining of headaches now. One evening after you had put Voca to bed, you found him in the kitchen taking yet another dose of aspirin.

"Headache?" you asked.

"Yeah. It...it hurts a lot more now."

"When do you get them?"

"After I get angry," he said, "I have to try hard, and..."

"And it hurts a lot when you have to try not to hurt me?"

"He wants to." Broly whispered it like a secret, "He wants to hurt you."

"Who?"

"I don't know," came the reply, "I don't know what he is. He doesn't talk. But I know he wants things."

"Why does he want to hurt me?" What was this, you wondered? A multiple personality?

"So you won't leave. He wants you to know you belong to us."

"I do know," you said, "Tell him that."

"I've tried. He doesn't believe it."

"What would make him believe it?" You had a slight idea, but it was about as cliche as they came.

"I...I don't know."

You were about to answer when you heard Voca crying again, and so you headed into her little room, followed closely by Broly.

"What does he think about Voca?" you asked, as you picked the baby up and began to rock her.

"She's his child. She also belongs to him."

This other part of Broly, it was very primitive, wasn't it?

"And that's all?" you smiled as Voca looked up--and past you, at Broly. It seemed she was recognizing faces now, or at least, was looking for his voice.

"Yeah."

"See, look, she knows you." You smiled as he looked down, reaching a hand out to her.

"How?"

"This is the age when they start to know faces. And voices. Talk to her. Use a soft tone, she likes that."

Rather unexpectedly, he took Voca from your arms, and held her in his own. You watched, while trying not to show your fear.

"Hi there," he said, gingerly touching her face, "I'm your father."

Voca gave him a smile.

Broly smiled back.

"Maybe she just wanted to see you before she went to sleep."

"What do I do now?"

"Rock her in your arms a little," you said, "I fed her before I put her down to sleep, so she doesn't need to eat again."

Broly did as you asked, and slowly, little by little, Voca began to fall back asleep. When you were sure she was out, you motioned to Broly to put her back into her crib.

"There. She'll sleep better this time, I'm sure of it."

"I guess so" he replied, "She sleeps, but...then she'll wake up crying, too."

"Babies do that. She's actually pretty calm, though."

"Right."

There was silence for a second, and you took Broly by the hand to lead him out of the room. "Come on."

"Where're we going?"

"To bed." you said quietly, "It's late."

He squeezed your hand a little and followed you in silence.

You changed into your nightgown, and then turned back to find--he was already laying down.

"Tired?" you asked.

"A little."

You curled up next to him. "I thought you never got tired. I guess there's a little I still don't know about you."

"A lot," he said. A moment later he turned over and pulled you close. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For staying."

You just curled up, and felt Broly cling to you and begin to shake.

You waited. Was he fighting it? Was he crying?

Both?

Seconds ticked by...

A minute. Two. Five. Ten. It felt like an hour.

Around the fifteen minute mark, you fell into an uneasy sleep, carefully cradled in the young giant's arms.


You were awakened by Voca's crying in the next room some hours later.

You shifted a little, and on not feeling Broly, assumed he had gone to take care of her. But when the crying went on and on, you began to wonder what was going on. Maybe he went to the bathroom.

You dragged yourself out of bed and went to grab Voca. She needed changing, which you did, and then to calm her down you held her and fed her as you looked about the house for Broly. Kitchen? No. Living room, no. The television was off...there was no food out. You checked the other rooms and each time, there was nothing.

Maybe he'd been called by his boss.

That had to be it, you thought. Why else would he just leave you alone like this? He almost never left you alone if it wasn't for work.

You sat in the living room, and looked down at Voca, smiling briefly.

She had no idea, did she. All she knew was that she was being held safe, and warm, and that a source of food was nearby if she wanted it. It still amazed you that she looked so much like her father, but you supposed that was how it worked. Sometimes the gene pool threw wild cards.

"Your papa loves you," you said to her, "But he needs help."

She gurgled.

"I hope I can help him."


"(Y/n)?"

You were stirred away by the feeling of a hand on your face, and opened your eyes to see...Broly.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I woke up and you weren't there," you replied, "And Voca was crying."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I...I needed a walk."

"For work?"

"Yeah. Yeah, for work," he said, "I came back and you two were just sitting here asleep."

You looked down to find that Voca was still asleep and got up to go put her back in the crib. Thankfully, she didn't wake, and you returned to the living room, where Broly was still standing.

"I was worried you'd left," you said, "You never leave, so I thought that..."

"I wouldn't do that to you. It would be dangerous," he said, "Like last time, when those guys took you."

You watched him carefully, and took one of his hands. "The other part of you didn't like that, did he?"

"No," Broly said, "They had to die for taking what was his."

He said it so simply. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And then he wanted me, because..."

"He wanted to show you were his."

You just nodded. It seemed to make sense to him, and in an animalistic way, made sense to you. The earlier thought of this other part of Broly being beastlike was confirmed. You were his woman, his mate.

"And I am."

You moved closer, and Broly picked you up to hold you as he had so many times before. When the touch became a clench, and his breathing became a little heavier--you didn't panic. Normally, you would have, but this time, you had a plan.

"You are mine."

His eyes were faded, glazed over. It was the other one, alright.

"And you," you said, "Are mine. Would you let me show you?"

"How can you show me?" there was a laugh.

"Take me to bed," you said, "And I will."

"You must think me a fool," came the reply, "You don't want that from me, you only want it from him."

"Let me prove it."

Broly didn't let go of you, but moved back down the hall to your bedroom. Perhaps you had piqued his curiosity...or his desire more like. As he moved into the room, he started to lean down to lay you on the bed.

"No," you said, "You lay down."

"And let you control--"

"It will be better that way." As animalistic as this...part? side?...of him was, there had to be some part of him that, like you'd heard of a lot of other men, would enjoy a woman on top. "I told you I would show you I was yours."

He paused, watching you with an uncertain gaze. Could he not believe it? Had this really not occurred to him before?

"This should be interesting." he laughed, "Go on."

It was odd, how this one was more articulate. Perhaps it was given the words Broly couldn't use...or maybe it was something related to that thing that Paragus used to control him. Was this his real side? If you could somehow get this part to understand...maybe you wouldn't have need to worry again about his hurting you.

He laid down, and you were left sitting atop him.

"Do you remember what you did the first time you were with me?" you asked.

"Yes."

"Do it again."

"You want me to," he said, "Is that what you're trying to prove?"

"I'm not trying to prove anything. But I do want you to." That, and you were sure if you tried to take him dry things would go very, very badly. This would make the situation more bearable, for both of you.

Up came those enormous hands. But unlike the unsure groping that the first time had been, this time, it was more deliberate. By now he knew what excited you.

You gave off a little moan to encourage him.

After a few minutes of this, Broly lifted up the hem of your nightgown, and you felt his hands moving up underneath the fabric. There was a bit of a wet feeling--you were still lactating, of course, but it didn't seem to faze him.

"You want this."

"Yes."

"Then there's also something else you want." There was a wide smirk, and just as it had gone the first time, he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand down to his own southern area--which was already well at attention.

You took a deep breath. It seemed that so far, this other side of Broly was liking the way you were handling things. Maybe it was working, maybe you were getting through to him.

You'd be safe.

"Well?"

You took a light grip on him and gave him a good stroke.

"Well what? Let go of my wrist and I'll show you."

"You're supposed to--"

Down, and back up again several times.

"If you don't like that, then..."

He didn't reply. But he wasn't stopping you either.

Once you were certain that you were ready, you took a deep breath and reached down.

You didn't even know what size in pants he wore, but you were sure of one thing: they were custom-made. Zipper down...

It didn't take much to encourage him through the opening in his boxers. And once he was free of that, he seemed to lay back. The beast was waiting for you to keep your word.

You took another deep breath and moved over him. You'd gotten used to him, but entry was always a little...

...ow.

The descent was slow, and despite your readiness, it still hurt. And when you had taken all of him, you had to stop to breathe.

And then you rose and fell again. You felt Broly groan, and looked up to meet his gaze.

Still blank-eyed.

You leaned forward ever so slightly, hands resting on those enormous abs of his, and began an easy pace.

Broly was grinning and moved his hands to your hips.

"You'd better not."

"And what are you going to do if I do?"

This was going to hurt, but if it worked...

You started bouncing on him. Up, down, up, down, in quick succession, and were rewarded with several groans.

"I might do that."

There was a clench at your lower back from his nails when you didn't stop.

"Y--"

"Stop talking."

You yelped when he bucked beneath you.

"You proved your point."

You started to rise again, but he pulled you back down.

"Do you want to know what I want?"

"What?" Oh, gods, that had left your legs weak...

"I want you."

He bucked again.

"I want you to stay."

"I am," You groaned, "I want to prove I am. What will prove it?"

His eyes seemed to waver. "Say you love me. And mean it."

It was confusing to think that this side of him wanted that, of all things. But you tugged one of his hands away from your hip and brought it up to your face.

"I love you." You rose and fell on him, and his expression softened.

You saw a smile on his face as Broly's eyes shifted back to normalcy.

In silence, you continued, moving up, down, continuously until--

Oh...

It was different this time. Instead of gripping you suddenly and leaving you weak, the orgasm hit you like a breaking dam, bursting outward from the spot where you were joined with Broly, and held you for several seconds longer than you'd expected.

When you stopped, he picked up the slack. Just as the heat of your end had begun to fade, his own flooded into you.

"Does he believe me now?" you asked.

"Yes." Broly sat up without withdrawing, and wrapped you in a tight embrace. "Yes. He does."


*Unknown Person's Point of View*

I'm watching them now, at one of the parks near their home. It's strange--I don't recall him being the sort to go out very much. And yet there he is, and there they are, having a picnic in the grass like nothing is wrong in the world.

What did she do to him?

How in the name of the gods did she accomplish this?

And the infant...it doesn't seem like they'd been together that long, much less that he would be interested in one of his own. But again--there they are.

And he's happy.