Unconventional

Summary: Trauma was a tricky thing.
Ishizu wished that she and her brothers didn't have to go through what they did, but it brought them together and stronger than before. Things grow even trickier when Yami Marik, a manifestation of that same trauma, comes back into their lives with his own body, things get a little messier. However, Ishizu manages to calm her brother's anger in a perhaps 'unorthodox' way.
As thoughts and feelings regarding family rise to the surface, the already unconventional Ishtar Family realizes that things are different... in a good way.

Author's Notes: This is an overdue gift for my friend, Super! Thank you so much for your patience, my dear friend, I love you so much! I hope this is to your liking, I know this is different than your characterization of Yami Marik but once I got writing, my hands were moving on their own gsdfhggsdfhhfd. I really liked writing this despite it being kind of out of my wheelhouse. Even when I wrote YGO fanfic regularly waaay back in the day, I never wrote about the Ishtars so this was double fun for me :D
I also christen Yami Marik/Ishizu/Marik as "offbeatshipping" due to it being unconventional as shit for the three of them to be together.

Trauma was a tricky thing.

Ishizu didn’t know how to explain it any better than that. Her family was fractured and coping in messy ways because of it. She understood why her brother had turned out the way he had. In some ways, she was regretfully thankful for it, if only because it meant they were all free from that awful tomb and their father. She wished that it could have happened in any other way. In a less horrific way. Regardless, it was too late and unwise to dwell on the past—an ironic thought considering her profession, the saying would make her smile every time she heard it.

Things were different now.

Was it easier now?

It was hard to say.

The other being that manifested inside of Malik had materialized in the physical world. This time, in its own body. She wasn’t sure how it happened. It meant that Malik was lighter now, in a sense. The guilt that came from his actions as a Rare Hunter and the lives he had stolen or ruined plagued him. That darkness, his ‘Yami’ as the pharaoh's host had put it once, was irritable, volatile, and almost violent. Despite the dangers that came with him, Ishizu took responsibility for him.

He was still her brother, a fragile part of her brother, but he was still her brother and Ishizu loved her brother.

Things were messy in the beginning. Rishid and Malik had coaxed him into a slumber every time. Ishizu couldn’t stand to watch. She was a strong woman. She knew she could handle it but something about the near-feral state ‘Yami’ was in—the panic that flickered in his identical lilac eyes—reminded her of the night their father found out they had gone into the outside world. The night that their father died. Her brothers were so rough with their youngest. They didn’t want to hurt him. It didn’t feel right.

One evening, things were different.

It was just Ishizu and ‘Yami’. She couldn’t remember where her brothers were. It wasn’t important anyway.

Blood-curdling shrieks bounced off the walls as ‘Yami’ flung a chair across the room. His lips were twisted into a manic grin as Ishizu trembled in the corner. Taunting words dripping with venom—some were garbled nonsense but she understood his intent—were thrown at her as he reached for another chair to send crashing to the floor.

Shaking in a shaky breath, Ishizu straightened her back. Her eyes closed as she willed herself to do something. She would not let this go on any longer. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she stepped towards her brother with clenched fists. Her hands shook violently as her knuckles grew bone white with how tight her grip was. She braced herself for the impact of a chair or glass or whatever else but it didn’t come.

“What are you going to do?!” ‘Yami’ said with a cackle. “Are you going to pin me down?! Hold me until I tire myself out?! Until I cannot breathe anymore?!”

She grit her teeth.

“No,” she said as calmly as she could. She opened her eyes and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

He blinked. For a moment, she saw Malik, the Malik she grew up with—well, she had grown up alongside this one too, when she thought about it—in his eyes. The soft, innocent one who she had seen on the surface all those years ago. Her heart fluttered.

“What is making you feel that you need to act this way?”

The man blinked once again. His gaze fell to her feet as his hands fidgeted in front of his chest. His mouth opened and closed and opened again. Pure utter confusion washed over his features. The veins around his eyes pulsed as they had during the Battle City finals. Panic trickled into her stomach but she stood her ground. There was something off. Something tugged at the corners of her mind to tell her to wait. She watched as his fingers twitched and clenched so tightly together that she swore she saw blood welling up between his digits from his fingernails. Pity, no, something a lot deeper than that, panged in Ishizu’s chest.

“Come here, brother,” she murmured. “Let me tend to your hands.”

‘Yami’ bit his lip and nodded. His limbs trembled as he held out his hands for her. Gently, ever so gently, Ishizu led him into the bathroom. He stayed silent as she coaxed his hands open. Blood dripped onto her hands and the sink but she didn’t mind.

“This may sting, brother but it’s important to get these clean.” She remembered the night that Malik’s ritual happened. Her mother quietly ushered her into the room as their father left and they tended to his fresh wounds. She had no idea that that was the first time that darkness had manifested in her brother. The sight of her mother, someone unable to help protect them, kissing the tears from Malik’s eyes made her weep. It was a bittersweet, more bitter than sweet, memory. Her thumbs gently ran along the tiny crescent-shaped wounds on his palms. He flinched. Before he could snarl and lash out at her, Ishizu brought his palm to her lips and kissed it. “I am sorry.”

His breath hitched and a hiccup rose in his throat.

Slowly but surely, his hands were as clean as they could be. She wrapped both of them in old towels and held them tightly in her own hands. “We’ll check on them in a few minutes to see if the bleeding has stopped. Be careful with them until they’re healed, alright?”

“Why?” His voice was small and brittle.

“Because they might start to bleed again and they may get infected. You could get really sick.”

“Why?”

She blinked. “What are you asking, my brother?”

His eyebrows furrowed. His mouth opened and closed as that earlier confusion washed across his face once again. “...Why are you being...?” He didn’t finish his sentence, but, Ishizu understood within an instant.

“Because you are my brother and I love you. I do not want to see you hurt. I am sure Rishid and...” The words caught in her throat. Would this Malik mind if she called him by his name? How did this Malik want to be referred to as, anyway? They had never asked. “Malik, our other other brother, doesn’t want to see you hurt either.”

“Then why do Rishid and... me treat me...”

Ishizu pursed her lips. Her thumbs ran along his fingers the best that she could with the towels wrapped around his palms. “I wish I had an answer. We don’t know how to handle things how we should. Perhaps...” she paused before squeezing his hands. Her blue eyes met his lilac ones as she gave him a small smile. “If you promise to tell us how you are feeling before acting out, we can avoid things like that. I would like that, would you?”

‘Yami’ blinked and then after a long moment, nodded.

“Good, I promise to help you from now on. I will tell our brothers about our promise tonight.” His lips cracked into a smile at that. It looked awkward on his sharp and normally manic features but she could see something in the milkiness of his eyes. Ishizu kissed his knuckles. “How are you feeling right now?”

There was that shaky silence once again. “...Tangled.”

“Tangled?” She asked. His hands tried to fidget in her grasp but he was unable to escape. A deep, guttural noise rose in his throat as his wild hair flung in his face. “Shhh, it’ll be okay. I need to keep holding your hands a little longer.”

He huffed. His shoulders rose and fell as he tried to think. “Tangled... angry. Sad. I do not know.”

She gave him a slow nod. “You’re feeling a maelstrom—a lot of feelings all at once, yes?” He nodded. “I think I can understand. Could you tell me why you are angry?”

“I... I am angry all the time. I hurt. I get so full of it that I don’t know how to get it out.”

Ishizu furrowed her brow. It made sense, considering how he had come into the world. He was a figure born out of trauma and rage. Pure volatile emotion. “I see... Was there something that made you... mad tonight?”

He bit his lip. “...Other me.”

“Malik?”

He huffed.

“He... has a name. I don’t. No one ever asked. I am always called Malik or ‘Yami’. I don’t want to be Malik. He got rid of me. He got rid of me—” His voice rose until it grew raw and hoarse. Angry tears welled up in his eyes as the veins in his face throbbed in an almost grotesque way.

Ishizu held her breath and dove forward. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into her chest. His breathing grew quicker as he trembled in her grasp. He shook so much that she thought that he might collapse in on himself like the tomb they had been born and raised in.

“I am sorry, my brother. I am sorry.”

His breathing slowed.

“Do you want me to let go? Am I hurting you?”

“...No. No. No.”

“Okay,” she whispered before stroking his shoulders. She didn’t know what she was doing. Pure instinct and memories of films she watched to catch herself up on the surface world played in her mind as she comforted him the best that she could. “Do you want a name?”

He shook then relaxed. He slumped against her, his head resting against the top of hers as a long, drawn-out sigh escaped him. “Yes.”

“Do you have a name in mind or would you like me to choose one for you?”

He stayed silent. She followed suit. Her hands continued to stroke his shoulders in slow, steady circles as she waited for a response.

“Mariku.”

She blinked at that name. The same pronunciation that the Pharaoh Atem’s friends used for Malik in Japan. It was similar but different than how she and Rishid and others at home would say it. Similar but distinct. It was all him.

“Alright, Mariku.”

Rishid and Malik were confused but settled into things sooner than they had expected. Ishizu didn’t blame them. She was also surprised and confused with how she managed to quell Mariku’s fits. It was a mystery. She was happy to do so, but she wondered if it had been a fluke the first time.

When Mariku followed her from room to room, it didn’t take long for her to realize that the dynamic had changed. He stayed away from their brothers and clung to her waist. Their height difference made things awkward—almost annoying at times—but she soon learned to deal with it. He rested his head on her shoulder as she worked or did chores when it was her turn. It was hard to not smile whenever she’d hear Rishid chuckle when he caught Mariku clinging to her like an infant.

That was the best way to describe Mariku’s new state. Infantile, no, childlike might be a better way of saying it. It was strange but comforting. Nostalgic in a way.

Malik didn’t seem to care for it but stayed out of his ‘twin’s’ way even as he muttered to himself. She could only imagine how he may have felt. Still, she doted on Mariku the best that she could, hoping it would prevent any more fits.

It did not.

Things weren’t as violent as they were in the beginning but there was definite malice, perhaps too strong a word, to Mariku’s actions. Once in a while, he’d lash out at a name slip—Rishid referring to him as ‘The Other Malik’ or Malik himself referring to him as ‘The Other Me’ –or seemingly out of nowhere. Furniture was thrown aside or a dish or piece of jewelry broken or particularly bad fits meant whole rooms were torn apart.

Ishizu would shush him and hold him as she whispered sweet nothings to him. It was a sight that made Malik roll his eyes and leave the room. Rishid stayed silent but she could feel his judgment in his stoic gaze. Part of her knew that this wasn’t the way to quell Mariku’s rage but what could she do? This had to be better than pinning him roughly to the ground while he thrashed until he exhausted himself.

It had to be.

The crash of glass against the wall rattled Ishizu to the core. A deep sigh escaped her before she got up from her desk and walked into the kitchen. There stood Mariku, his face nearly split in half with the grin he gave her.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer her verbally. But the sight of him knocking a plate of harissa from her trip to Alexandria to the ground. It shattered on impact. Shards of porcelain mingled with the dessert on the floor. Her eyes met his as his smile widened and something sparked in his eyes.

“Mariku...” she said before sucking in a shaky breath. ‘Stop, Ishizu, don’t act too rash. What was it that worked the first time?’ Without a word, Mariku stepped on the harissa. The sweet squished and popped underneath him as he ground the ball of his foot against it as if he were putting out a cigarette. Another deep breath. Another squish and pop. Another breath. And yet another squish. “Mariku!”

Her voice rang in the tense air.

He stopped.

She stepped towards him. Her steps were heavier and noisier than she would have liked but she didn’t have it in her to be sweet and coddling. He needed to be stopped. Her hands reached for his broad shoulders and gripped tight. Perhaps a little too tight.

“Why did you do that?”

He shrugged.

“Mariku, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. What is it you’re feeling? Can you tell me?” her voice softened as she spoke. “Are you upset?”

He shrugged again as his foot dragged across the ground. A long, messy smear of harissa trailed after it. “No.”

“Alright...” she sighed. “Were you upset those other times?”

“...Only sometimes.”

“Okay. Today wasn’t like then?”

“No.”

She nodded. Frustration bubbled inside her chest at his non-answers but it was better than no communication at all. “I’m going to clean this up. Do you think you could help me?”

His head tilted from side to side then he shook his head.

“Okay... we’ll have to clean your pants and socks. Sit down at the table. I’ll clean this up and we can wash your clothes. I still want to try talking things out later.”

He watched as she cleaned up the pieces of broken plate and then the harissa without a word. The heaviness of his stare got to her if Ishizu was honest with herself. But she didn’t let him distract her. Tension continued to hang in the air as she cleaned. Then, he got up. She froze and braced herself for another thing to crash onto the ground. It didn’t come. Instead, he sank to the ground beside her. His hands shook as his breathing grew a little heavier. His head plopped against her shoulder and his wild blonde locks tickled her cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

She tensed at that. He was... apologizing?

“Thank you,” she said before continuing to wipe up the mess. “Thank you for apologizing, Mariku. I’m sorry for yelling earlier. Are you feeling a little better?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“...After.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise, Mama.”

She tensed up once again. She knew that he had been acting like a child and followed her around like a child would their mother but... was that what he saw her as? When did this start? Despite all her confusion, warmth spread itself through her body. A smile crept across her lips.

“Okay, let’s finish this up and I can run a bath for you... Maybe I’ll have one too. Can you talk to me after our baths... Habibi?”

She could feel him smile. “Yes.”

“Call me if you need anything, Mariku,” Ishizu called out as she turned towards the door with her youngest brother’s clothes in hand. She expected to hear the sound of bubbly water splashing against the tub and maybe onto the floor but it didn’t come. The faint sound of bare skin against tile was the only warning she got before Mariku wrapped his arms around her chest and nestled his face in the crook of her neck. She shivered as his breath ghosted across her neck. Waves of goosebumps washed across her body as her hair stood up on its ends. “Mariku?”

“Take a bath with me, Mama.”

She swallowed thickly but nodded. It wasn’t a strange request considering their new dynamic. It still took her off-guard, however. It wasn’t even the first time she had bathed with her brothers. Water was a precious commodity back in the tomb. They had to share bath water. It had been several years, yes, but it was not the first time. If Mariku wished to add this into their new routine, then it would not be the last time either.

He stripped without a word, letting his clothes fall to the ground in scattered heaps. She realized just how much Malik had grown, even if it was Mariku in front of her. His build was slim but toned. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and defined muscles. She imagined there were some differences between him and Malik. Like the veins on his face, Mariku’s veins were defined and bulged out across his arms and legs. A map to his heart, perhaps.

He looked at her. It was then she realized she needed to undress as well.

Even though Ishizu had nothing to be embarrassed about, it was just family bonding after all, she couldn’t stop her knees from quaking underneath her. Her fingers were clumsy as she took off her jewelry and placed it on the counter. The dress fought with her as she tried to strip. It wanted to fall to the ground and pool around her feet but her shaky hands wouldn’t allow it. Her heart throbbed inside her chest and drowned out the sound of the dripping faucet and the fizzing of the bubbles that began to fade away. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed. It was just family. It was like a mother and son. Red dusted itself across her cheeks as she felt Mariku’s gaze run along her body.

What was he looking at?

Did he share memories with Malik? Was he remembering the days he bathed with her as children? Did he recognize how much she had grown? Did it confuse him? Or was there something else to the heaviness in his stare?

She swallowed and finally let the dress hit the ground.

Her hands covered her chest and groin as she made her way to the bath. The water was warm against her calves as she stepped inside. A shaky smile made its way to her face as she held out a hand for Mariku to take while the other covered her breasts. He took it and stepped in. Then dropped into the bath with a grin on his face.

Water lapped at the edge of the bathtub and dripped onto the floor. It splashed and sloshed across the walls and their skin as clouds of neroli-scented bubbles landed on her face.

“Mariku!” she squealed. Despite her annoyance at the mess, she couldn’t help but laugh as Mariku splashed more water and bubbles at her. “Mariku, please, Mama...” she paused. It felt good if strange to refer to herself in that way. “Mama needs to wash you, okay, Habibi?”

A hum filled the air as Mariku handed her a loofah and soap. She figured it’d be easiest to start with his front and arms. He could handle his private area and maybe she could help wash his legs. She was gentle for now. After all, it wasn’t as if he was rolling around in the dirt and sand outside and needed to be scrubbed clean. The refreshing scent of citrus grew stronger as the soap lathered across his skin, which was softer than she expected. He huffed and squirmed whenever she washed his neck or needed to get his underarms. Was Malik ticklish there? The sound of Mariku’s laugh pulled her from her thoughts.

“Sorry, Habibi, I’ll be done there soon. Do you mind standing up for me so I can get your legs?”

He nodded and did what she asked.

It was hard to imagine that he was the same defiant boy as earlier, she thought to herself.

Water licked at her body as he stood up. Noisily, the water splashed onto the wall and floor once again. Rolling her eyes, Ishizu got to work on scrubbing her baby slash brother’s legs. Her blush returned as her hands got close to the inside of his thighs or near his hips. Her eyes stayed on the water, watching as soap dripped onto the surface, as she wanted to avoid staring at his groin.

Yes, she had seen Malik and even Rishid’s... privates. They were children. This felt different.

“Turn around, Habibi,” she whispered. He did. The sight of his buttocks was still embarrassing but it was easier to take. “Could you wash yourself there for me?”

“Where, Mama?”

She huffed. “Your... privates... and bum.” She felt silly putting such things into juvenile terms but it felt wrong to be overly clinical or crass in this context. “Between your legs and back here.”

He shrugged, or she assumed so, it was hard to tell from this angle, and then did what she asked. The best that he could while standing outside of the water.

“You can sit down now. I can wash your b—” Ishizu bit her tongue. Would he be alright? Would it hurt to wash his back? It had been so long since the ritual. “Do you want me to wash your back or can you do it yourself?”

Mariku dropped into the water once again. “You can do it, Mama.”

“Okay, tell me if it... hurts or anything. Can you keep washing yourself down there?”

“Okay.”

She soaped up the sponge once again and got to work on his back. It was... painful to look at. Of course, she could only imagine how horrible the actual process was. Even if it was so long ago, the scars on Mariku’s back looked angry. Perhaps angrier with age as Malik’s misplaced grudge against Pharaoh Atem grew. He was a being born out of trauma and rage. Perhaps it was just a trick of the eye and Ishizu reading too deeply into it, but his scars seemed to pulse and twitch like the veins around his eyes during Battle City.

Her touch was gentle. The loofah barely traced his skin. He shifted and huffed in frustration. She took it as a sign to go harder. Scratch and scrub a little harder. She trusted her baby to tell her to stop. She had to.

Soapy, neroli-scented water ran down his skin in heavy rivulets. The loofah circled across his skin. It felt like a map with mountains and valleys and rivers, stretched with time as his bones and muscles grew over the years. He sighed and relaxed against her hand. It was such a little comfort but Ishizu couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Feeling good?” she asked.

He simply hummed in response.

She worked herself deeper into his back. He responded positively. Shaky groans of relief fell from his lips as he shivered in delight. The sounds he let out made her feel warm. That warmth swam in her chest before settling into her stomach and lower. She stopped for a moment.

What was she doing? What was she thinking?

“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asked. The innocence dripping from his voice made her feel all the sicker. “Do you want me to make you feel good too?”

She balked. “N-no, Mariku, that’s not... necessary—”

He hushed her and grabbed her shoulders. She held her breath. What was he going to do? His lilac eyes bored into her blue ones for what felt like an eternity. Then, he spun her around and scrubbed at her back. She sighed.

Damn her for thinking such thoughts.

His touch was clumsy but eager. Maybe a little too rough in places. She didn’t mind it though. When his fingers brushed along her neck to push her long hair out of the way, she shivered. It was because it tickled. Nothing more. That was what she kept telling herself.

His hands roamed her back, neck, shoulders, and arms. The scent of neroli grew even stronger as he washed her. She shuddered against his touch. His fingers dipped along her sides and into her underarms. Ishizu couldn’t help but squirm as she held back a fit of laughter. This, of course, egged Mariku on. His fingers dug into her ticklish spots before slipping forward. His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed softly.

“Mariku!” she cried out. “N-no, don’t touch me there, okay?”

“How come?” he asked, his thumbs stroking along her flesh. His chin rested on her shoulder. His breath ghosted across her damp skin and made her shiver even more. “They feel nice. They aren’t like mine. Why is that?”

“They're... called breasts,” she murmured. “They’re for feeding babies milk.”

“You can feed babies?”

“Yes... I-I could.”

“Could you feed me?”

“Not right now, Mariku, I’m sorry.”

“After?”

A small dry laugh escaped her. “I... Some women can have milk all the time but I don’t. Most people have to already have a baby, are about to have a baby, or need to take medicine to have milk.”

“And Mama doesn’t have anything like that?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Mariku pouted but seemed satisfied enough for now. He continued to wash her in mostly silence. He did stop once in a while to try to tickle her, however.

Once they were clean and dried off, Mariku rushed out of the bathroom and into his room to get dressed. Ishizu sighed to herself as she tidied up the bathroom the best that she could in the nude. She didn’t notice Malik standing in the doorway, watching her with his arms crossed, until she was about to drop his clothes into the hamper.

“Gods, Malik!” she cried out before breaking down into a soft laugh. “You scared me—oh, please give me a moment. I-I’m not decent—”

“He isn’t a child, you know,” Malik said coldly.

She froze as she tried to cover up her body. Her eyes flickered toward the floor. “I... I know.”

“You are treating him like an infant to pacify him, are you not?” he asked as he stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Or am I misunderstanding things between you and him, sister?”

“It’s... I, well,” she stammered. A mess of emotions toiled in her chest as words struggled to get out of her throat. “It’s... complicated. Mariku... Malik, he was created from you to cope with how our father treated you. Is it wrong to show him the kindness that he—you didn’t receive?”

He frowned as he stepped towards her. “I can understand that. What I can’t understand is why you are treating him like this.”

“I-I just said...”

He stepped closer and grabbed her upper arm. “Why are you treating him like this when you have never shown me or Rishid such treatment? Are we all not family as well? I was the one who was burdened with such a duty and... went through the ritual. Do I not deserve to be nurtured by my sister like our own mother didn’t nurture me?”

Ishizu stared at him. His lips were pressed into a hard, wobbly line as he turned his face away from her. Even from this angle, she could see tears well up in his lilac eyes. Hot inky trails ran down his face as he failed to fight back his emotions.

“Malik... I had no idea,” she whispered. His hand let go of her as his body quaked with emotion. Her own arms reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Malik. I should have shown you and Rishid more kindness. You both deserved so much more. I didn’t think about how you may have felt while I treated Mariku in such a way.”

He hiccuped before returning the embrace.

Ishizu pulled away slightly, just enough so she could tilt his face towards her and give him a smile. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead then his eyelids then his nose and then his lips. “I... If you wish, I can treat you the same way. It is the least I can do for my brother.”

Shakily, Malik nodded and stole a kiss from his sister. “I... fear I may want more than that, Ishizu.” Intent dripped from his words and lit that dying fire inside her back up again. As did the heavy gaze he gave her.

She swallowed. “I... I don’t know... I would be lying if... similar thoughts hadn’t occurred to me as of late... B-but, Mariku is...”

He kissed her again. “I heard you two a few moments ago...”

She swallowed once again.

“Only if you want to, sister... We could... perhaps... give you the means to give him milk later.”

A long moment passed before she nodded. Their eyes closed before their lips met together.

Months had passed.

Ishizu’s family felt like a family. It always had, as strained and unorthodox as it was once before, but now it was different. Brighter. Warmer. Deeper. Things that she and her brothers had dreamt about once upon a time. Things were still unorthodox. That was the thing about trauma. It could be difficult and messy, even after you learned how to cope with it. Perhaps this was not the proper way of coping with their family history, but...

It was Ishizu’s family and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

A long, drawn-out hiss escaped her as her hips and feet seemed to creak with every slow, wobbly step. A paradoxical pain, one that was gentle yet burning hot, ebbed through her body. She didn’t know how to explain it. It hurt. It was bearable. It was comforting at the same time while being a major inconvenience. If Ishizu had to absolutely change one thing about her new life, it would have to be the pain and discomfort that came with pregnancy.

Her breasts ached as milk had swelled them up a cup size or two already. They rested against her round and taught stomach that seemed to announce her presence before she entered the room. She felt so heavy. It would only be for a few more months. She couldn’t have imagined how difficult it may have been without her brothers who pampered her... whenever she wasn’t taking care of them.

It was something she was doing right now.

On the couch, Mariku leaned against her shoulder. Her hand rubbed gentle circles on his shoulders as she watched his eyelids grow heavier and heavier with every hushed syllable that passed her lips. A soft melody filled the room. It could barely be heard over the sound of the ticking clock that cut through the warm and hazy air and the oscillating fan in the next room.

Mariku’s hand sloped down her arm and slipped up to her stomach. His palm worked its way across her stomach in slow, unsteady circles. His lips pursed forward as his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, Habibi?” she whispered.

“I want to feel the baby,” he replied. “It always kicks when Rishid or Malik are here. Never for me.”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry, I guess she’s always sleeping when it’s just me and you together, baby.”

He pouted. All Ishizu could do was roll her eyes and pull him into a tighter hug. Eventually, he settled. For a moment anyway. His hand began to stroke her swollen belly in slow, unsteady circles once again. A soft laugh, one that mostly came out of her nose, escaped her as his touch grew lighter. It rustled her dress and caused it to tickle her skin. Even through her laughter, Ishizu began to sing once again. Her hushed melody swam through the warm air. His touch somehow grew steadier and less steady as time went on. Slowly, his hand worked up to the top of her stomach, just under her milk-swollen breasts, and brushed against them. Another laugh escaped her as he unintentionally tickled her now overly sensitive chest.

Something flashed in his heavy eyes. That was her only warning. Immediately, he went in for the attack, for lack of a better term. Mariku took a greedy handful of his mother sister’s flesh and squeezed her. Not enough for it to hurt but enough for her to be startled.

“Mariku!” she squealed.

An almost maniacal grin split across his face as his tongue swiped across his lips. She shuddered at the sight as a guilty warmth swam in her stomach and settled into her core. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

“I can get up and make you—”

“No, I want milk,” he said with a huff. He sat up, only to bury his face in the crook of her neck. The feeling of his breath and voice against her neck was an all too familiar sensation. One that made her squirm for all sorts of reasons. “...Like Malik gets to have.”

Blood rushed to her face and buzzed in her ears. Everywhere from the tips of her ears to her cheeks and nose and neck burned intensely. She felt like she could light up the room and paint the walls red. The memory of her and Malik the other night played in her mind. As if on cue, milk dribbled from her now stiff nipples. She had neglected to wear a bra and pads to soak up any messes today as she had no plans. A shiver ran up and down her spine as the memory of Malik’s lips latching onto her leaking breasts seemed to cause phantom sensations. Coughing, she looked down at him and tried to play it cool. “What... do you mean, Habibi?”

He clicked his tongue. “I saw you and Malik in your room when everyone is asleep... You said that the milk was for babies but I saw him, Mama. I’m your baby too, aren’t I?”

Ishizu couldn’t believe that Mariku had seen her and Malik together! If he knew about it—though, maybe not knowing exactly what they were doing—then did Rishid know as well? Still, this whole family was unconventional. Extremely so.

“You’re right, habibi. You are my baby,” she whispered as she moved her hand from his shoulder and up to his hair. Her nails raked across his scalp as she pulled him in tight. Her lips met his hairline in a soft kiss. “I... I suppose it’d be okay if you had some milk. I have been getting a bit sore today...”

Mariku giggled to himself before pulling away from her. A sigh escaped her as she sat up straight and tried to undo the clasp of her maternity dress. Eagerly, perhaps a little too eager, he reached behind her and snapped the clasp open. The neckline of her dress slipped down her shoulders and rested on the top of her heavy breasts. She shimmed up the couch before reaching up and pulling the dress down. Milk ran down her dusky flesh in creamy rivulets before pooling under her breasts and soaking into the plain fabric.

The sight of Mariku’s tongue swiping across his hungry lips greeted her.

Without warning, he dove in. She didn’t have time to mentally prepare herself before he latched onto her nipple. He snuggled up close to her, the tips of his wild locks tickling her side, and rested his hand on her other breast as he gave her a hard suck. A rush of milk spilled onto his tongue. She hissed as he kept up the almost rough treatment. There was no finesse to his ravenous frenzy. It was pure, unrestrained hunger. Though, she guessed that made sense. He didn’t realize that her and Malik fooling around was for other reasons, even if he also liked to delve into the mother-child dynamic once in a while as well. It was just Mariku borderline gorging himself on her milk.

“S-slow down, baby,” she stammered. “You... m-might hurt me.”

He hummed, acknowledging her words, and made her skin vibrate. She squirmed in her seat. Beads of sweat formed at her crown and the back of her neck as heat radiated in her core. But, he listened to her. He softened the suction. Milk continued to steadily stream into his hungry mouth. The wet sucking filled the air and mixed with the sound of the fan in the corner.

A soft sigh escaped her. It was pleasant. Thankfully in a different way. One that she admittedly wasn’t used to but longed for and didn’t realize until now. Or maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge it because of their past. It was something deep inside her core, her very being maybe. It was something instinctual. That earlier heat melted into something else. It washed inside her chest and swirled around her heart before radiating through her veins. It made her feel like she was glowing.

Memories, hazy and distant ones, trickled into the front of her mind as she felt her body relax. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier as the images of her mother painted themselves in her eyes. Details were especially fuzzy. The more she tried to remember them, the faster they’d fade away. It was like trying to keep sand in your fingers as you were underwater. It was possible, but they’d slip from your grip in heavy clumps or float away with the waves. Still, it was enough. She must have been young. Just old enough to start forming memories.

There sat Malik in her mother’s embrace. His chubby limbs and cheeks, healthy and bright despite the darkness of the pharaoh's tomb, peeked out of the dark blanket he was wrapped in. Then, their mother shifted her robe to reveal her chest before feeding the baby. A song, one that Ishizu sang to this day, filled the dark room and bounced off the walls.

Motherhood.

That was what this was.

It was something she got to experience since that one afternoon with Mariku and it was something she would experience from the very start with her child very soon.

Mariku hummed as his sucking slowed. He didn’t stop. With how much regular food he liked to eat, it was unlikely that he’d be full of milk so soon. She gently scratched his scalp as he fed himself. Her one breast felt a little lighter already. Though, she wasn’t sure what to do about the other. She thought that the pump was in her room, but she wasn’t too sure. Did they have room in the freezer for more?

“I see you’ve been busy, sister,” Malik called from the doorway.

“Ah!” Ishizu gasped. “Y-yes, Mariku... mentioned he was hungry and... I needed to pump soon anyway...”

Mariku’s eyes fluttered open. From this angle, she didn’t notice the flash of something in her baby brother’s eyes at the sight of his former host. His lips curled around her nipple. The tickling of his wild hair grew more intense as he buried his side deeper into hers. His hand squeezed his mama’s side as he gave her a nuzzle.

Malik sighed before plopping himself next to her. His hand ghosted along the curve of Ishizu’s belly—their baby—before pressing it against her. Firm but gentle. Slow, steady circles. Controlled. Though, she felt the trembling of his hand against her taut stomach. It wasn’t enough to make her wonder if the baby could feel it but... it was noticeable. His hips stapled themselves to the side of hers as his right hand snaked under her back to pull her into a hug, even if it meant that it was squished between her body and the couch. His hand continued to stroke her stomach.

Then, Mariku’s suckling grew sloppier. Noisier. Rougher.

It almost hurt.

Ishizu hissed. “Habibi, I thought... I asked you to not drink so rough?”

With a loud pop that echoed throughout the room, Mariku pulled his mouth away. A creamy rivulet ran down the corner of his lips and chin before he wiped it with the back of his hand. “Mmmm, I’m sorry, Mama. Your milk just tastes so yummy... I just wanna drink it all right away!”

His tone was saccharine. Cloyingly sweet, unlike the milk that fed him. Even when he was in a needy or affectionate mood, he never sounded so... Ishizu pursed her lips. She didn’t know how to explain it. She clicked her tongue and pushed the thought out of her head.

“Well... I understand, but I asked you to drink gently earlier, didn’t I? You were doing a good job until Big Brother Mali came in...” she murmured. Her hand reached for Mariku to rustle his already messy hair. “So, if you want to drink more... Please be more gentle.”

“Sorry, Mama,” he replied. “I might drink from the other one too, I’m just so hungry—”

“Oh, enough!” Malik snapped. The volume of his voice was hardly loud but with the amount of venom dripping from words, he might as well have. “Are you trying to frustrate me, Brother?”

Mariku said nothing. He did nothing. That earlier something—the thing that Ishizu didn’t see—flashed in his lilac eyes again before he flopped against his mama—careful to avoid her belly—and sniffed. “Mama...”

With a sigh, she pulled both Mariku and Malik to her breasts. “If you both going to act like children... you both might as well drink.”

Her nails raked across Malik’s scalp as he reluctantly latched onto her neglected nipple. A shudder ran across her body at the not-so-sudden stimulation. Mariku instantly latched on and went back to his earlier firm but not painful pace. It startled her at first but she quickly got used to it. It was still jarring, to say the least. The conflicting stimulation on both sides of her body rocked her to her core. It wasn’t unpleasant, aside from the guilty heat that started to bubble inside of her once again, far from it. Each time Malik flicked his tongue across her nipple, it only stoked those growing flames.

Milk flowed into both of her brothers’ hungry mouths. A rushing stream into Mariku’s while the other was a steady trickle. She wondered if Mariku would empty her out before Malik even got halfway full.

Her hips squirmed in her seat as she tried to get comfortable and ignore those feelings growing inside her. It wasn’t as if she was unwilling to be... intimate with the two of them. It just felt a little wrong, at least at the moment, to mix the mother-son activities with sexuality. Or that’s what she told herself, anyway. A deep sigh escaped her once again.

The sound of the fan in the corner and both brothers’ suckling filled the air. Embarrassed, Ishizu hummed that song from her childhood to fill the warm air. That warmth that made her heart glow replaced the darker, heavier one, as memories of her childhood rolled through her mind. Her fingers stroked identical locks of sandy blond hair as identical pairs of lilac eyes began to close. Their suckling slowed down to a distracted crawl as her singing grew a little louder, a little more confident. She watched as both of their chests raised and fell with each deep breath. Then, the suckling and the milk flow stopped.

“Mariku? Malik?” she whispered. The two young men didn’t acknowledge her. They didn’t even stir in their sleepy state. Another sigh. She didn’t mind staying here until they woke up from their milk-induced nap, but she did want to take care of a few things. “How am I going to...”

Rishid stepped into the room with a flush dusting across his rich brown skin. “Would you like me to help you move the two of them to bed, Sister?”

She smiled. “Yes, I’d appreciate that a lot, Big Brother.”

Slowly, Rishid stepped towards Malik and scooped him into his arms. “I’ll be back for Brother Mariku. You can stay and rest, Mo—Ishizu.” She blinked at that stumbling of words. “Please stay here.”

Minutes later, true to his words, Rishid came back and scooped his other brother into his arms. Mariku wriggled in his embrace before snuggling up closer to his chest. He turned towards the door and headed to the men’s room. Ishizu quickly redressed herself, rushed to him, and grabbed his shirt. “Rishid.”

“Y-yes?”

“...If you want,” she started. Her mouth suddenly felt so dry and sticky. “...After Mariku is in bed, would you like to be fed as well? Malik didn’t drink too much before falling asleep.”

His blush intensified before he gave her a slow nod

“Y-yes, Moth… Mama.”