#I THINK?? this is the second time we’re working with an asylum AU or these two characters??

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

[skyland2703]

Fanfic Titles: Buy Back the Secrets + Javi/Amelia

Title: buy back the secrets Rating: T Relationships: Javi/Amelia; Ollie/Aiyon; Fern/Izzy. Characters: Javi Garcia; Amelia Jones; Dr. Akana; Pop-Pop. Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Mental Hospital; medical inaccuracies; medical malpractice; mention of mental breakdown; eating disorder; mention of suicidal ideation; mental illness. Summary: One finds, after working in the medical profession long enough, that a person can get used to about anything with enough repetition and grit. Javi walked into the asylum on the edge of town to perform a job as an aid to the patients. Teach them how to play certain instruments surrounded by other aides that could procure a needle full of sedative if a patient suddenly found themselves extremely agitated, or set off by something Javi might have said or done without the intent of offence. Amelia, he thought, maybe, had once been a patient in the same building. Every time he went to the building, Amelia going to her work at the newspaper, she got this far away look on her face, eyes trailing the horizon until it settled just above the highest point of the building he'd be walking into half an hour later. When he told her about a patient that flirted with him, or about a nurse who offered him a spare pudding, she would balk with laughter, but there were always...tears, held back in her eyes. He wished she would tell him the words she held back, but he wouldn't press it.

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

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[autisticandroids]

sorry about this. i don't know if it's worth apologizing for this shit anymore but this is a particularly bad one. anyway. #mpregpocalypse.

okay so like. before i start this post. here's some background reading. not all of it is directly related but all of it has to do with vibes.

x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x

anyway. been thinking about a really horrible mpreg au, as is my trademark apparently. in this case it's like. okay. season six. dean and lisa break up. we're assuming that cas is doing like. a good amount of deanwatching so he's like. paying attention. monitoring.

so like. at time of breakup, lisa was like. two weeks pregnant. it is dean's. so cas is like..... well i don't want dean to be tied to this woman since he clearly doesn't want to be. but i don't want to just destroy what is technically his progeny. so what if i just. yoinked it. and kept it in stasis in my grace. for the future. when dean is Ready To Retire And Be A Father. yeah. i think i'm being called to do that.

anyway once he goes godstiel he's like. well, dean can retire now :3. in fact, he will retire :3. nothing will ever touch or bother him again :3. also i am god and can do what i want :3. so why not :3. why shouldn't i have dean's baby :3. so he sort of. impregnates himself with the stolen fetus. but like, he isn't godstiel for that long. less than a month probably. and then of course he walks into a lake.

now, i'm going to play a bit fast and loose with the timeline here, such that cas comes back somewhat earlier and then stays catatonic significantly longer. but like. okay.

cas comes back as emmanuel and he is not like. really visibly pregnant. not obviously so. his clothing is baggy and comfortable so you can't really see it. and emmanuel didn't know he was pregnant.

then cas gets his memories back and is like ooh! how about i lie to dean about this and don't tell him that i stole his and lisa's fetus and impregnated myself with it. i can leave that as a problem for later-me to deal with. and then he takes on sam's hell memories and goes catatonic, without ever telling dean.

but now like. now it's time for reading is fundamental. and cas is now like.... eight or nine months pregnant (or like, the equivalent, whatever that is). like he is visibly, obviously pregnant. he is also like. avoiding things in a different way than he was before.

so when dean shows up cas is immediately like, hi dean! look i'm having your baby isn't that wonderful? and leaps into dean's arms bridal style.

and this is like, a whole nightmare. because like. first of all dean didn't know cas was pregnant and dumped him in an insane asylum. second of all dean is like. so angry with cas. and he desperately wants to take that anger out on him. but in canon reading is fundamental, he can't, because cas is too vulnerable and too avoidant, and it makes him feel guilty. this is intensified hugely here, because cas is all the things he is in reading is fundamental and also pregnant.

dean also can't really demand that cas fight for them, either. i mean, he could, but it's a significantly more uncomfortable proposition.

and also like, cas won't really give an answer when asked how this happened. or rather, he does give an answer: "dean gave me a child when he made love to me under the beautiful moonlight." but that's... obviously untrue. like, dean and cas have never had sex. like cas would really like it to be true, and he's in a mental state where he can make himself believe something if he really really wants to. but dean knows it isn't true, so he's like. what the hell is going on.

dean decides that it belongs to someone else, and cas has just decided that dean is the father because maybe he wants to please dean, or maybe the circumstances of conception were bad in some way. he suspects crowley as the actual father. the other option he considers, that cas somehow acquired dean's dna and impregnated himself on purpose, is too uncomfortable to consider. it suggests among other things too much... knowing queerness, on cas' part.

anyway the main purpose of this au is the literalization of cas being corrupted and made vulnerable by dean in reading is fundamental, like. the literalization of "it took everything to get me here." and thinking about how dean would react to a cas who he absolutely cannot be angry with, who he absolutely cannot force to fight. like, the honey cas shtick actually fully working and deflecting dean's anger. but there's some other notes.

one: if they actually end up in purgatory, cas still runs away from dean. he gives birth alone in purgatory, and when dean finds him, he has the baby with him. they don't really talk about it, and cas still doesn't tell dean where the baby actually came from. like when he eventually tells dean it will definitely be post purgatory.

two: the baby is going to be like. fairly monstrous. like technically it has two human genetic parents, but there are several factors that make it not very human. first of all, cas, when he was godstiel, did alter it to make it more his own. because he wanted it to be his and dean's baby. so it's definitely a nephil. in fact, more than a nephil, since cas is significantly more than an angel at the time. second of all, it did share a womb with a LOT of leviathans so there is some... leftover effect from that. it's a little bit leviathanish, definitely. not to mention all the monster souls. third of all, there's the whole thing of cas spending most of the pregnancy with hallucifer (which is imo a chunk of lucifer's grace) in his head, so that must have some effect. basically that baby is a fun new species and has many terrifying traits. it's probably a flesh eater.

consultants on this post: @seragamble, @smokerdean, @kenobians

[noeditspace]

Caught off-guard kiss for Rhea and Felix!

Sorry this took so long! I decided to go with a scene that I had for my ghost hunters au since idk if I’ll ever actually write the full story. I hope you enjoy :) Also it’s a bit long so all of it’s under the line.

Rhea made her way quietly around the building’s perimeter with Felix. They were trying to get an idea of the location Phineas had picked for them but Rhea was already on edge. The place in question was one of the most notorious asylums from the late 1800s. The professor had asked them to search for some supernatural experiences here on their usual mission to find proof of the supernatural.

A loud crack suddenly echoed around them, causing Rhea to nearly jump out of her skin. Fearing the worst, Rhea slowly turned around and aimed her flashlight at where the sound had come from.

Her light showed Felix frozen with his foot held slightly above the ground.

“Was that you,” she hissed, her body still on edge.

Felix stood there for a moment longer before seeming to collect himself as he ignored Rhea’s glare.

“See rookie, this is what you gotta look out for,” he said wagging his finger at her before walking past her.

“Gotta look out for...,” Rhea echoed in annoyance at his dismissal of what had happened.. She took some deep breaths to calm her nerves and to stop herself from smacking Felix over his head as they continued to walk.

“Yup, you always have to be prepared, on the lookout for anything dangerous or otherworldly.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. Ever since she had started working with this Ghost Hunters group, Rhea’s life had gone crazy. The people she now worked with were interesting to say the least, beyond their own various beliefs of the supernatural.  She didn’t mind them and didn’t mind Felix’s need to call her rookie. It was a bit endearing so she let him do it.

There was slight static from the ear piece Rhea was wearing before Ellie’s voice could be heard coming through it. 

“Everything alright over there?”

“Yeah,” Rhea responded, “We’re about to turn the corner to go along the back of the building.”

“Alright. Stay safe you two.”

Felix responded to that. “We’re fine Ellie. Rhea’s in great hands.”

Silence answered him and Rhea let herself imagine the look Ellie was making on the other end. She couldn’t stifle her chuckle as Felix turned to wink at her.

“Holler if anything goes wrong.”

“We will,” Rhea said with a smile.

They continued for a few more minutes as the sounds of the night seemed to go silent. They had just rounded the corner when footsteps sounded behind the two of them. 

“Shh,” Felix motioned for Rhea to move close to the edge of the wall. A flashlight could be seen moving back and forth as someone moved closer to where they were.

“Shit, it must be security.” Rhea turned to look at Felix. “What do we do?”

Felix looked around quickly to see if there was a place to hide but all that was around them was the wall and then an open field that was lined by a first some good feet away.

“We could run,” he suggested with a shrug. But they both knew they wouldn't make it in time without being seen by the guard. 

Precious seconds passed as they stood there unsure of what to do. The light was growing brighter and the footsteps were growing louder when an idea popped into her head. With no time to waste, Rhea gave Felix a brief “sorry” before grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him against her to kiss him.

They stumbled back against the wall with Felix automatically throwing a hand behind her head and the other hand against the wall to steady them. She could feel his surprise as he stood there frozen against her lips. Rhea felt awful for doing this but the last thing they needed was to get caught for the true reason they were there. 

Opening her eyes slightly, Rhea could see that the guard was just about to round the corner when she was caught by surprise that Felix had started kissing her back. The kiss was gentle but firm against her lips as if he was both sure of what they were doing and hesitant of how far they could go. Rhea found herself giving into his kiss as her hands moved from his chest to wrap around his neck pulling him closer to her. Time freeze around them as they got lost in each other's embrace.

A cough broke the moment and they reluctantly pulled away from each other. Rhea still felt the faint echo of Felix’s lips against hers as she turned to face the blinding light.

“Alright you kids, this is no place for something like that,” the guard spoke to them in a bored tone.

“Sorry, sir,” Rhea spoke up after Felix didn’t say anything. “Got lost in the moment was all.” She offered him a sheepish smile and grabbed Felix’s hand in hopes to sell their story.

“Odd place to get lost in the moment,” the guard sounded skeptical but seemed to buy it as he motioned with his light back to where he had come from. “Go on get outta here. Don’t come back again.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry again.” She gave the guard another smile as she pulled Felix back down the path they had come. He continued to remain silent causing Rhea to worry that he would be angry by what she had done.

Once they had finally gotten far enough away from the guard, Rhea stopped and dropped Felix’s hand as she turned to face him.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about that.” Opening her eyes to finally look at him, Rhea was surprised to see that Felix’s face was unreadable. He stood there staring at her but did not betray any emotions or what he might be thinking. She began to squirm under his silent gaze but she stood her ground. The least she could do was face his anger at forcing a kiss on him, even if it was meant to save them. 

But as he continued to stare at her, Rhea began to ramble to try and break the silence. “I swear I would never do anything like that under any other circumstance. I was just really scared about what would happen and didn’t want us to get arrested….”

She trailed off as Felix finally broke out into a big smile. “Nah Rook, you acted in the moment. Quick thinking like that is what can save us in the heat of the moment when we are faced to face with the unknown.”

Slightly amused at the direction the conversation was going but still slightly concerned, Rhea asked, “Are you sure it's ok? That we are ok.”

This got a reaction out of him. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the area for who knows what. “Yeah.. yes. Besides,” his gaze set Rhea’s heart racing, “it was a nice kiss.”

Rhea didn’t know what to say and scrambled to figure out a response. Static suddenly sounded in her ear and Rhea thanked no one in particular for the distraction.

“You two ok over there,” Ellies concerned voice sounded through the earbud.

“We’re fine,” Felix answered. “A quick run in with a guard but Rhea was quick on her feet to save us.” Felix gave her a wink at that.

“Ok well Max and Nyoka have already returned so head on back to the van. It’s time to go.”

“We’ll be there soon,” Rhea stammered as she looked away from Felix.

They made their way back to the van as Felix started to lecture her about the importance of being able to think fast in the moment. She only half listened as she wondered what he really thought about their kiss. He had seemed flustered at first but had taken it in stride. Exactly as he had hoped. 

A small part of her wondered though, if he meant it when he kissed her back.

[threeletterslife]

Brevity (But Most Often Not)

→ [2/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: All your life, you've been with guys who didn't bother to read the news or appreciate the art form of journalism. But Hoseok... Even the way he carefully chooses his words is a sign that you and he are a match. If only he weren't in a dilapidating psychiatric hospital. Then maybe you'd have a proper boyfriend who treated you right for once.

→ pairing/rating: hoseok x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 100% angst (but like, soft angst?? mellow angst?) | journalist!au

→ warnings: depictions of a psychiatric hospital and mentally ill patients, slight manipulation

→ wordcount: 6.6k

→ a/n: based on this ted talk! *disclaimer,,, the characters in this fic are fictional and do not correlate with the real members whatsoever!*

Merrymoor Hospital stands before you behind the gray clouds of fog that have drifted mysteriously and rather suddenly following your rather nervous departure from your car. Almost as if you've walked straight into a horror movie and Merrymoor Hospital was the haunted castle that would end up dragging you down to your demise.

You swallow.

The foggy weather isn't helping your anxious nerves. The weeds are overgrown in the dirt and a collapsed sign catches your eye. It reads Merrymoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane. That used to be the name for Merrymoor Hospital before they changed it to something a bit more... civil.

No wonder they're trying to close this place down. The whole building looks like a brewery for disaster—or murder if you will.

They should've sent Namjoon up for this job instead of you. The man has thick skin and probably hasn't watched a horror movie in his life, which would probably make him immune to the fear of entering a hospital that screams haunted mansion.

Though your hands are clammy, you make sure to take quick notes in your notebook about the surroundings.

Inhospitable hospital, you write. Might have something to do with weather. Possible revisit.

But you hope it doesn't have to come to that.

You're this jittery for your first visit; you don't want to think of the possibility of a second.

All you can do is hope the first visit at Merrymoor Hospital is so horrible that you can convey the exact picture of it in your writing and get it published. Then the place will shut down.

For nearly six years, citizens have been wanting to shut down Merrymoor because just the thought of these criminally insane people escaping the confines of the asylum terrifies them. And now your agency is taking action. If you write an article convincing enough (about your horrible findings) then Merrymoor will finally be shut down.

Of course, there is a slight chance that Merrymoor isn't as bad as everyone assumes it is. You'll have to report the facts as they are. If there's one thing you hate more than horror movies, it's yellow journalism. You promised yourself that when you became a journalist, you'd write everything as it is without exaggeration and overly pretentious language that the common man wouldn't be able to comprehend without pulling out a dictionary.

So here you are. At Merrymoor.

In a way, the place looks a bit like a college campus. If the campus had been severely mauled by zombies in a post-apocalyptic world, though. Cautiously, you step closer to the entrance of the building. There are guards there—unusually large and buff.

You clear your throat. "Hello." Your voice comes out squeaky and if your body language didn't give away how terrified you are, your voice sure did. "I'm Y/N. I believe I was invited to inspect Merrymoor Hospital today."

"Y/N..." a guard mutters gruffly.

You fight the urge to shrink back.

"Oh, Y/N L/N. The journalist? Yes, they're waiting for you."

Oh, thank goodness.

The guards nod at you before opening the heavy-looking doors.

"Thank you," you manage to squeak out before slipping into the entrance. What waits for you are bright white walls on all four sides of the hallway. There's a bit of dust in the corners and what you hope are water stains on the welcome mat you're stepping on. But otherwise, the conditions inside are far better than the outside.

"Y/N!!"

Your head jerks up when you hear your name.

"Hello!" A man dashes toward you, wearing a white lab coat and flashing his white teeth in your direction. He looks a bit too friendly to be working in such a serious place. "Y/N, right? Sorry I couldn't meet you outside. We were making sure your visit here would run as smoothly as possible." He grins at you again and you're starting to think he's doing that to hypnotize you into liking the hospital.

"Yes, I'm Y/N," you say. "Nice to meet you, Mr..." Your eyes trail down to glance at the name embroidered with gold thread on his coat, "Park."

"Oh, please, call me Jimin," the man smiles again. You have to admit if he wasn't stuck working here, he could've appeared in some magazines and gotten rich. "Welcome to Merrymoor, by the way. We're a psychiatric hospital established in 1863. Pretty old, aren't we?" He laughs but you don't.

Est. 1863, you scribble in your notebook. "Sorry if I don't respond sometimes," you mutter apologetically. "But I'd love it if you can tell me everything about Merrymoor."

"The more information, the better article you can write!" Jimin answers merrily.

Oh god. It sounds like Jimin's adamant about keeping the hospital open.

He drones on and on about Merrymoor's impossibly high specs and their success in helping their patients reach a peak in their lives. You scribble the facts down but don't include Jimin's biased side comments about the wonders of the asylum.

"Want to meet the patients?"

Jimin's sudden question startles you especially because you hadn't expected to actually come in contact with them.

"A-Assuming they're..."

"They won't hurt you," Jimin says, shaking his head. "Just don't bump into Gladys. She tends to get fussy when that happens. And don't mention the color blue in front of Jungkook. He doesn't like that. Steer clear away from anyone who looks like they're living in their own world. Some of them think they can get away with homicide in their minds. If someone approaches you and you feel nervous, call for me, okay?"

"Don't bump in Gladys. Don't say blue in front of Jungkook. Steer clear from people living in their own little bubble. Call you when I'm nervous. Got it," you say. "Thank you."

"No problem," Jimin salutes you.

Hm. He's cute.

You'd think the wellness center where all the patients are located for the evening would be behind one or two gates at the maximum. Instead, you and Jimin pass through six gates with even more buff guards.

Not bad, you think. Good security, you write in your notebook. Jimin glances over your shoulder and smiles proudly.

"You ready?" Jimin whispers to you before the guards open the seventh gate. "There are red panic buttons on the side if there's an emergency. But that's pretty rare." He shrugs.

"Yeah," you say. "You can open the door."

The moment the gates open, a rather large room is revealed. It sort of looks like a hotel lobby but with softer, pastel colors that are universally accepted as calming hues. The only bright color that stands out is the reds of the panic buttons scattered across the pale green walls.

"The rooms used to be pastel blue," Jimin says. "But after Jungkook came to us, we had to repaint them. He thinks the color is a curse."

"O-Oh..."

The patients are lazily lounging around the old armchairs or rocking on the balls of their feet in front of walls. Some are talking to themselves. Others are entranced in a kid's television show playing on the cracked television screen.

"It's been a long time since we've gotten donations," Jimin explains almost apologetically. "There are games in the closet over there," he says, pointing at the closet that is locked shut. "We lock that for safety reasons. But not a lot of them want to play checkers and battleship anyway."

There doesn't seem to be a set uniform for the patients. You see comfortable clothes on most of them. Sweatpants with mysterious stains and t-shirts with worn-out holes. All of them have a battered name tag pasted on their shirts.

Inadequate funding, you note. Jimin's smile crumbles a bit.

"Are they always this... turtle-like?" You stop yourself from saying slow.

"Well... They're... medicated," Jimin whispers as if it's the most important secret in the world.

That makes a lot more sense as to why some older patients are drooling on themselves. A lot of them seem to be drifting along like ghosts in some sort of vivid slumber. It's unsettling.

"Ah... I see," you answer. "May I talk to a few of the patients?"

"Yeah! Sure," Jimin says. "I'll get out of your hair. Call me if you need me."

"Thanks."

In general, the patients seem content, but you're not very sure if it's the drugs that are talking. They hum off-key songs and talk to themselves. Some glance at you but others act like you aren't even in the room. You try to pick out a patient from the crowd who doesn't look very... threatening. Just in case.

There's a strange man in a well-ironed navy blue suit who catches your eye. His hair is pushed back and gelled into a stylish sweep, revealing his forehead for others to admire. His nose stands tall and his posture is impeccable. He's arguing with an obvious patient in sweats.

You don't mean to eavesdrop but—

"You're wearing blue!"

"Navy blue to be more precise," the strange man says. "What do you want, Jungkook?"

"I-I c-can't allow it!" Jungkook declares. "Take it off! Take it off!"

Upon closer inspection, the strange man has a name tag on his suit; it is the only thing that ruins his pristine image. Hoseok, it reads. You can't even fathom that he's a patient in a mental asylum.

"That would be considerably inappropriate," Hoseok says. He frowns. "I fancy this suit quite so, Jungkook."

"BLUE!" Jungkook shrieks. He begins to thrash about so hard that you contemplate pushing the red emergency button. But just as you move closer to the wall, Jimin comes to the rescue.

"That's enough wellness center for you, Koo," he tells the crazed man. "Want to go back to your room? The color won't haunt you there." Jimin shoots you an apologetic look. "I'll be right back. Refer to the other clinicians if you need them, okay?" You nod politely. Jimin looks at you gratefully before he and Jungkook walk away.

Great. Now you're left alone in a room filled with a bunch of potentially dangerous crazies.

"You're new here, ma'am?" Hoseok, the patient in the prim and proper suit says. "You aren't a patient here, I suppose?"

"Oh, no," you say, quickly shaking your head. "I'm just here to observe."

Hoseok points to your notebook. "A journalist, Miss...?"

"L/N. But I go by Y/N," you say. "And yes, I am a journalist." You quirk your brows. Insanely observative for him to notice.

"Ah, I reckon you're here to write an article about Merrymoor's imminent closure?" Hoseok drawls on. He sits down on a busted armchair and gestures you to sit across from him. He's so charming, you do exactly as he suggests.

"Well, I'll have to see what Merrymoor is like before I can write such a..." you trail off, trying to rack your brain to find a fitting word.

"Definitive article?" Hoseok finishes for you. Right, definitive. He crosses his legs casually and leans back, exuding the aura of an extremely young but successful CEO rather than a patient at a mental hospital.

"Yes," you say, cocking your head. "A definitive article."

"May I ask how you fancy Merrymoor as of now?" Hoseok says. "Awfully decrepit, isn't it? Such a dingy environment. Yesterday, I'm afraid I found a toenail in my meal. Not much up to par with the other hospitals, this one. Is Merrymoor too run-down for your taste as well, Y/N?"

"Yes, just a bit," you admit. "But so far everything seems to be set up for the best of the patients."

Hoseok laughs a merry laugh. "Y/N, there is hardly any regular Merrymoor inhabitant adept enough to hold an intellectual discourse with me. I'd say I'm always a little more than bored here."

"Oh... I'm sorry." You're not sure how a man like Hoseok got stuck in Merrymoor Hospital. He doesn't look very criminally insane to you at all. Just very well-spoken and well-dressed.

"Oh, you don't have to be sorry," Hoseok smiles. "But it's rather often that I feel forsaken here. With no one to converse with except the clinicians... Even then, they are vigilant around me though I try to convince them I am not dangerous. They check under my blankets—even my mattress. Won't let me around scissors. Y/N, it's almost offensive how fastidious they are."

I doubt any of these patients want to be dangerous on purpose, though. It's obviously a good thing that the clinicians are so attentive. Bonus points.

"They're just looking out for you, Hoseok," you offer. You scribble attentive clinicians in your notebook.

"I would like to beg to differ," Hoseok says. "As you can surely tell, Y/N, I hardly belong here." He gestures at himself and glances detestably at the others in the wellness center. "Quite obviously, there has been a mistake."

"A... mistake?"

"Yes," Hoseok says. He uncrosses his legs and crosses them the other way. Then, he leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "You see, I wasn't a very courteous young adult, Y/N. When I was 21, I committed a minor crime that would sentence me to jail for about six years."

You frown.

"Yes, I know," Hoseok sighs. "I've deeply repented my faults before my departure to jail. I was in the prime time of my life, Y/N. I couldn't spend six years in jail at age 21. Not especially when I already mulled over my actions and expressed great remorse to those I hurt..."

His words are so convincing that you nod along with him.

"I remembered what someone had once told me. To get out of an unnecessarily long sentence, all I had to do was fake a mental illness." Hoseok shakes his head disapprovingly. "Apparently, my act was so persuasive, they threw me in Merrymoor instead. Now I can't get out."

"Oh god... How long have you been here?"

"Nearly fifteen years. Almost three times as much longer than my original sentence," Hoseok laughs bitterly. "Turns out, it is incredibly difficult to prove that I am, indeed, sane."

"Oh no..." you breathe. "I'm so sorry..."

"That isn't necessary, Y/N." Hoseok smiles. "But my only wish is for Merrymoor to close down. So I am finally let loose to freedom."

You gulp. His charming smile is so eye-catching that you can barely look away from his handsome face.

"I've always wanted to be a journalist..." Hoseok says sadly. He looks at the notebook in your hands longingly. "Words have always fascinated me, Y/N. You see, the wielder of words is more powerful than any delinquent brandishing a weapon. Words are controllable and may hold so much potent..."

"Oh, I agree!" you smile. "As a journalist, I kinda think of myself as the informer for the people. I write so others can read! And my reports will benefit someone with good information. At least, that's how I like to think of it. I'm glad you think the same!"

"If we didn't meet inside Merrymoor, I would've easily asked you out on a date, Y/N," Hoseok smiles, shaking his head. "But it seems so that dates might be impossible here. There is little to no privacy."

"O-Oh!" Your cheeks flush bright pink. "Maybe you'll have a tribunal one day. And then we'll have to see."

"I'm afraid that might be unlikely," Hoseok sighs. "They are concerned about the feasibility of recidivism..."

"I-I'll visit," you blurt out before you mull over your choice of words. "Maybe you'll feel less lonely then. I have to come back here anyway..."

"Tomorrow. 11 a.m." Hoseok says. He quirks a handsome brow at you curiously. "I'll be waiting."

Your stomach twists in anticipation and you have to look away from his intense stare. "I'll be there."

Once in the safe confines of your room, you open up your laptop and begin to transfer your written notes to an open document. You like to get the most of your workload done the first day, so you end up researching the history of Merrymoor Hospital. Until you read the articles about it up-to-date.

Apparently, if the people finally decide to close down Merrymoor for good, they might turn it into a hotel. Kind of fitting, especially since the wellness center had a striking resemblance to a hotel lobby.

But after a while, you start getting distracted by Hoseok. The charming man had certainly known what he was talking about.

All your life, you've been with guys who didn't bother to read the news or appreciate the art form of journalism. But Hoseok... Even the way he carefully chooses his words is a sign that you and he are a match. If only he weren't in a dilapidating psychiatric hospital. Then maybe you'd have a proper boyfriend who treated you right for once.

Your exes all had one thing in common. They all told you that you talked like a journalist. Apparently, that's a big turn-off. Not as much of a turn-off when they think 'fancy' dressing means wearing cargo shorts with a t-shirt and socks with sandals.

Now Hoseok is a man who is an obvious connoisseur of words and clothes. And you deserve a man like that. A man who is so well-spoken that you become lost in his speech.

Your laptop begins to dim to save battery but you ignore the darker screen and instead, look at your lacking closet. Tomorrow, you should wear something nice for once. Rather than your usual pants and blouse, you should pick out something... more flashy.

At one point in your clothes hunting journey inside your own closet, you remember that the purpose of going to Merrymoor again is not to impress Hoseok but to write an article. Right. Your job always comes first. So you sigh, throwing away your heap of useless and bland clothes to the side and sliding in your desk chair to wake your laptop.

You'll have to finish outlining the main points of the article today. Then maybe you'll let yourself go out and buy a cute outfit for tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes so slowly that you swear time delayed itself while you were asleep and now the world runs not in seconds but in lethargic minutes.

Jimin greets you just like the day before and he seems pleased that you are in a brighter mood than yesterday. For one, the weather isn't as foggy, which actually does wonders to the outlook of the outside of the hospital. Without the fog, Merrymoor doesn't look like a haunted mansion at all. In fact, it looks more like a grandiose museum promising historic artifacts and old texts. Much less terrifying than the previous day.

"How was your visit yesterday?" Jimin chirps as he offers you a cup of hot coffee. His eyes linger on your shorter-than-usual pencil skirt and low-cut, silky black blouse. "I hope it was good." He beams when you accept the coffee with a smile. "Do you have any specific places you want to visit today?"

"Oh, thank you!" you say. "It was great," you tell him truthfully. "The guards already toured me around the outside today, but I was thinking I could visit some individual rooms."

"Of course!" Jimin grins. "The patients should be in their rooms right now. Good timing."

You realize Hoseok had said 11 o'clock with a plan in mind.

"Don't worry," Jimin soothes. "There are two guards at every door so you should feel safe."

Good security x2, you write in your notebook while making Jimin hold your coffee. The clinician beams.

Jimin guides you around the white walls of the hospital. "Did you know, these walls used to be green? In the old days, they thought green stimulated mental health because it represents the color of nature and growth. But I think white looks much better now. Blue is supposed to actually stimulate health, though. But Jungkook's sensitive to blue so we stuck with white for the hallways."

You nod thoughtfully. But you really wonder how Hoseok will greet you today.

"Um, Jimin?"

"Yes?" Jimin turns to you hopefully.

"Can I visit Hoseok? I met him yesterday and I think he'll be great to interview... You know, for the article."

Jimin visibly pales. "Oh... You mean, Jung Hoseok, huh? He's... um, are you sure? Jungkook might be a better candidate for an interview. Maybe even Yoongi. How about Taehyung? Or Seokjin..."

"Yes, I'm sure," you nod. "He's well-spoken so I think I could get good quotes from him. I can visit the rest of the patients later. Is that okay?"

"Um... yeah... sure..." Jimin says but he doesn't sound so sure.

Regardless, he leads you to the door to Hosoek's room. From the open wide slot on the door, you can glimpse at the interior, which looks surprisingly cozy with warm blankets and even a window letting some of the morning sunlight shine in.

"I'll be waiting outside," Jimin says. "The guards will follow you in if that's okay."

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem!"

When you enter the room, you find that Hoseok's sitting on a little wooden chair in the corner of the room. Today, he's in a classic pinstripe suit with a red tie. He grins brightly when he sees you, but he scowls at the two guards behind you. The guards ignore him, instead, standing at the entrance. You cautiously walk forward.

"Hi, again, Hoseok," you say. "I was wondering if I can get an interview with you today... If that's all right with you."

"Of course that's all right, Y/N," the man beams. "Here," he says, standing up and letting you take the chair. "I prefer standing during serious discussions."

"Oh, of course. Thank you." You slide into the small chair, looking up to face Hoseok. "Can I have your permission to record the interview?"

"Yes, by all means. You look gorgeous, by the way. Lovely skirt. Beautiful blouse."

You blush, tugging at the ends of your pencil skirt. "Thank you." Bringing out your little voice recorder, you clear your throat before pressing record. Then, you begin to speak. "I'll be asking about your stay at Merrymoor Hospital. All you have to do is answer to your best ability. Don't worry if you need a moment to think. Can you please state and spell out your full name? If you are comfortable, you can state your age as well."

Hoseok does so in a relaxed, enchanting voice that makes you wonder how tortuous it will be for you to listen to this interview over and over again to transcribe it.

"Why were you admitted into Merrymoor Hospital? And what year?"

"I didn't quite mean to be admitted into a psychiatric hospital so young," Hoseok hums thoughtfully. "I suppose I was reckless in my twenties... But who isn't?"

You nod. Your twenties were disastrous. Full of bad men, too much alcohol and little to no care for the repercussions.

"I did use my fists quite rashly once when I was twenty-one and that resulted in me getting a six-year sentence for prison," Hoseok shrugs. "The roaring twenties is called the roaring twenties for a reason—aside from the historical reference, of course. Nobody desires to be locked up at the rush hour of their lives, do they?" He smooths back his immaculately gelled hair. "After I severely repented my wrongdoings, I came up with a brilliant idea to reach liberty. I heard they coddle you at mental hospitals before releasing you to freedom after a couple of days. So I figured it was genius to merely act mental.

"But my act was so convincing that they sent me here. In 2005, I was shoved in this little, dingy cell, forced into isolation from the rest of the world and being stripped from my well-deserved privacy." Hoseok scoffs bitterly. "For nearly fifteen years, I've been trying to convince every clinician in here that I am a normal, average citizen. I am definitely not insane. But how do I prove that I am sane?"

The last question rings in the room. You shift in your seat. "If the clinicians are suggesting—"

"Wrongfully accusing," Hoseok corrects with a small nod.

"Right. If the clinicians are 'wrongfully accusing' you of having a mental disorder, then which one is it?"

"They've wrongfully accused me of a plethora of disorders from a medical book. I was forced to take written or multiple-choice or even verbal tests that would prove my insanity," Hoseok says with a scornful frown on his face. "If I made every single clinician in Merrymoor take the same tests that I took, I guarantee you that all of them would definitely come out as positive for one or more disorders. Everyone's a little insane inside."

He grins but it isn't maniacally. It is almost consolingly. Convincingly.

"Are you finished with your inquiries, Y/N?" Hoseok asks. "I have some of my own for you."

"O-Oh, I only asked two questions so far—"

"Will I be able to see you again?" He stands over you with a dominant aura that makes you forget how to deny a request. "I enjoy your company very much, Y/N."

"Yes, surely," you reply. "When would you like to schedule another interview?"

Hoseok grins, reaching forward to pet the perfect curls of your hair. The guards in the back flinch forward but when they realize you're fine with it, they ease their tension.

The man cups your cheek with his hand, which is surprisingly ice cold. You stare up at him with admiration. He laughs quietly under his breath. He's got you wrapped around his finger.

When you're around Hoseok, it's easy to forget your duties as a journalist. You're supposed to poke and prod for information, but Hoseok is so good at speaking that he often gets away with not answering your interview questions directly. There's something about the eloquent way he talks that makes you want to stop everything and just listen to him forever.

Your laptop is open again as you transcribe five days' worth of interviews with Hoseok. Embarrassingly enough, it took five days to get a day's worth of quotes and questions from the handsome man. But you strangely don't mind. Those five days visiting Hoseok over and over again was blissful.

And now that you have no more questions, you don't have an excuse to go to Merrymoor any longer. But it's hard to focus on writing your article (even though the deadline is rapidly approaching) when all you can think of is Hoseok.

He's been trying to convince you that Merrymoor should be closed, but from what you see, Merrymoor isn't the problem at all. The patients are genuinely well-treated and the clinicians are respectful and kind. Safety is a priority, which was the people's largest concern. And even the guards are polite.

If the people wanted to turn Merrymoor into a hotel, they'd have to let go of that thought. Merrymoor should stay as a psychiatric hospital.

Meanwhile, maybe you can put in a good word for Hoseok to get him out of Merrymoor. You admit it had been silly of him to pretend to be mentally ill (especially when psychiatry definitely isn't a joke) but he's obviously matured since he was 21. He's spent nearly fifteen years regretting his past. You think it should come to an end.

Maybe you're doing it for your own good too. You can't help but wonder what your relationship with Hoseok will blossom like outside the hospital. When he pets your hair or caresses your cheek, you feel like you're going to combust. And the last few interviews, you told the guards to stay outside the room. He was this close to kissing you, too. But he had pulled away last second, smiling teasingly at you. It was as if he was saying you'd only get a kiss if he was finally liberated from the confines of what he liked to call the prison cell.

God, you remember how breathless you had been the moment he pulled away. Imagine how breathless you'd actually be if he'd really kissed you.

You let your laptop screensaver go on before sighing. Without a second thought, you grab a coat and rush out of your modest loft. You drive yourself all the way to Merrymoor and park haphazardly in the dirt. The guards are so used to you by now that they let you in immediately.

You're breathless by the time you reach Jimin's office. The young clinician looks surprised but happy to see you. "Y/N!" he greets you warmly. "I didn't know you were coming here again!"

"I have to talk to you!" you blurt out. "Please," you add for good measure.

Jimin laughs. "I didn't know you were so excited to talk to me." Usually, he's wearing his white lab coat but that stays hanging on a coat rack near the door. He has a black turtleneck on with some casual jeans. It's nowhere as near stylish as Hoseok's attire, but he still looks effortlessly fashionable. Jimin looks you up and down and grins. "I see you're participating in pajama day today." He giggles.

You gasp when you realize that in your hurry, you'd forgotten to change out of your home clothes. Your face turns a bright shade of red as you wrap your coat tighter around you. "I-I was in a hurry."

"I can see that," Jimin smiles. "What is it that you want to ask me about?" He sits down on his big chair and gestures for you to sit across from him.

You gather your breath, tucking your hair behind your ears as you take a moment for yourself. Jimin waits patiently.

"It's about Hoseok," you finally gasp.

"Oh. Hoseok..." Jimin sighs. "Yes, our patient. What about him?"

"Well, there's been a mistake," you say. "He's not supposed to be here. He lied about being mentally ill when he was younger, but I'm sure he's learned his lesson by now. Hoseok's as normal as we are," you plead. "He just wants to be released. Get the freedom that he deserves."

To your surprise, Jimin sighs. "Oh no, Y/N..."

"What?" you say, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"God, how do I break this to you?" Jimin shakes his head. "Wow. Um... Well, this is awkward."

"Why is it awkward?" Your inside twist at the impending bad news that you were going to hear any second now. You hope for the worst.

"Well... Y/N... Normal isn't a very good way to describe Jung Hoseok. He's definitely not normal," Jimin says, scratching his head. "I'm his clinician. I should know, right?"

"Not normal? Then...?"

"He's a psychopath, Y/N," Jimin says.

"A what." You deadpan so seriously that it's Jimin who flinches back.

"A psychopath. Not all are dangerous... But some do have a tendency to commit crimes and try to get away from the consequences," Jimin says. "They're cunning, manipulative people, Y/N. Very abnormally large egos. And lack of empathy. They don't feel the way we do."

But Hoseok... He'd... he'd liked you, though.

"I'm sorry," Jimin apologizes. He looks genuine. "The fact that Hoseok tried to fake mental illness to get out of a prison sentence makes him abnormal. He's a clinically diagnosed psychopath."

"What do you mean they don't feel the way we do?"

"They tend to lack emotions like fear and sadness and guilt, Y/N... But they're usually very good at pretending they do," Jimin says. "It's hard for them to make emotional connections with others, but they'll use their charm and way with words to get what they want. Usually, they're a bit narcissistic too. I mean, Hoseok threw a fit when he realized we weren't installing a mirror in his room... And he might think of you as more of a thing than a person."

"A thing?" you scoff incredulously.

"He must've wanted you to feel attracted to him," Jimin sighs. "He probably thought you were the key to getting out of Merrymoor. He's tried that with several other women around here—even men."

You stumble over your words, fists clenching. "You mean he can't really care for me?"

"He might... But for different reasons." Jimin fidgets with his hands. "He cares about you in a sense because you'll benefit him."

"So he's puppeteering me," you scoff. "Like I'm some doll he can show a little bit of love to and I'll come running back to him! God, I'm so stupid!" You bury your face in your hands. "I thought he really liked me..."

"Manipulation is the term we use," Jimin sighs. "Normally, most psychopaths can function well in a given society. But Hoseok's proven to struggle with that a little bit. Um, he has violent tendencies..."

You're left speechless.

And you really thought you could have a future with him. You feel foolish.

"T-Thank you, Jimin," you manage to stutter out. "Thank you for telling me... I just... wow. I fell right into his trap."

"He's a charming man," Jimin smiles warmly at you. He has a way of making you feel better. "I'm sorry... I should've noticed something was up..." His expression shows nothing but warmth.

If Hoseok smiles, you feel the cold ocean breeze kissing your cheeks. When Jimin smiles, you feel like you're basking under an orange sunset where the last of the sunlight warms not just your cheeks but your whole body.

"It's fine," you say, shaking your head. "I should've known better."

Quickly, you stand up, suddenly feeling rather flustered to have a serious conversation with Jimin in your pajamas. "I'm sorry for bothering you," you say. "Um, but good news. I really liked Merrymoor. And even Hoseok couldn't persuade me otherwise."

Jimin's lips curl up in a bright smile. "Oh, that's great! Thank you!"

"I'll make sure to write a good article," you promise. "Maybe you guys can get the funding you need to replace some of the old furniture."

"That'd be amazing," Jimin grins. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."

You shrug. "I'm only relaying the truth to an audience. You and the other clinicians did all the work."

Jimin blushes at the compliment. "Email me when the article is published—so I can brag about it to family and friends."

"Hm," you hum. "Isn't texting much easier?"

You leave Merrymoor Hospital with lost hope for Hoseok but a new number from Jimin. The day doesn't seem so horrible anymore.

Psychopaths value charming, beautiful words that sound like music to the ears. They're fastidious, choosing each word with scrupulous care. It also makes them awfully pedantic to the average person.

You didn't mind Hoseok's elevated vocabulary.

But you do mind the fact that he's incapable of love. With much research, you learn that psychopaths are able to fake their emotions to find their way into the top spots of society. That they value pragmatics over emotions. Usually, they don't even know that they're different. Sometimes that makes them dangerous. Other times, they're just humans with another perspective on life. Just because they have a superficial charm that they may switch off and on at will does not make them insane. It is what they do with their different brains that decide whether they are mad.

The psychopath test is online. And when you look at it, surprisingly, you find yourself checking off a few of the psychopathic points.

Hoseok's right about one thing. Everyone is a little insane inside. Maybe not to the extent of a psychopath who gets in trouble with the law but just enough so that nobody is really normal. Normal is just a social construct people created to form a little more equality in a non-binary world.

You have so many ideas to write about after this article.

You open your laptop, being greeted by a screen full of independent sentences that are yet to be placed in coherent paragraphs. The deadline for the article is near but you've been putting it off to think.

You'll have to paint a beautiful picture of Merrymoor for the readers to make this work. Describe the patients who truly need help and friendly staff who give help when needed. You'll need to make Merrymoor sound as least threatening as possible. To show people that this hospital is more important than whatever hotel that could be there.

Then, you type away.

Halfway through, you get an email notification from an address you don't recognize. Upon further inspection, you realize that Hoseok had somehow acquired your email.

My dear Y/N,

I miss you dearly—I yearn to see your beautiful face again. I've already picked out my best suits to wear when we go on our first date. To my imminent freedom, yes?

Did I ever mention I am prohibited to have a mirror in my cell? Every day is a pain to style myself without the proper tools. I don't think I deserve this kind of prisoner treatment.

Regardless, I hope I can see you soon, Y/N.

Best, Hoseok

It's subtle, the way he tries to get you to put in a few bad words about Merrymoor for him. But now that you know his manipulation tactics, you won't fall for them. You ignore the email and go back to writing.

Merrymoor: Hotel or Hospital?

Everyone in town scrolls through the article Thursday morning as you sit back and relax as the comments and responses flood in. It's the best article you've ever written, according to your editor. People are buzzing about the heroicness of Merrymoor Hospital and marveling at the jobs of the clinicians. The citizens have found respect for them.

You finally reply to Hoseok's email with a link to the article—no other words. He'll have to figure out where you stand for himself. With that, you close your laptop for good.

You'll take a little break from writing for now. Maybe relax a little from your journalist duties and enjoy other people's company. Namely Jimin's.

You're due for a date with him in about... five minutes.

You hope things go well.

[1 YEAR LATER]

"You sure you want to go to his tribunal?" Jimin asks in a worried voice. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest.

"I'm sure," you say, snuggling against your boyfriend. "He emailed me, asking me to come. So I'll go. There's no reason to refuse, right?"

Jimin rubs your arms. "Right..." You look at your boyfriend with such adoration in your eyes at Jimin giggles. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's just that... you're amazing," you laugh. "You could've easily told me that I was delusional for loving Hoseok. You could've told me not to take part in clinician business especially because I don't even have the right degree. But you didn't do any of that, Jimin. You were respectful. And you just made me... understand."

"Well, that's my job," Jimin says. "I try to make everyone understand and respect each other."

"Hoseok once told me everyone's a little insane inside," you whisper, playing with Jimin's shirt. "Do you think that's true?"

Jimin laughs out loud. "Would you kill me if I said I'm insane about you?"

"Yes, I would!"

"On a more serious note, yes, we're all a little crazy," Jimin says. "You obsessed over your job before you met me, right? My other friend fusses about his looks the whole day. And I'm absolutely crazy about you." You roll your eyes but smile. "Everyone's a little crazy," Jimin chuckles. "But crazy has a whole spectrum of its own."

"So to put it succinctly, normal doesn't exist."

"Exactly."

—masterpost

—masterlist

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Graphic depiction of torture, graphic physical violence, captured/kidnapping, major character death

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 5,133

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

AN: And it all goes downhill from here, Ladies...

Chapter 51: Begin

“I can’t stand you crying. I want to cry instead, although I can’t.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Samseong; Gangnam District South Korea

9:45 AM

Jungkook was three steps from heading to the insane asylum.

One step represented each day that he hadn’t been able to track Eden down.

He barely heard the words of comfort that Jimin was giving him. He knew that it had something to do with it not being his fault, but how could it not have been? He hadn’t heard from his wife in three days, assuming she got wrapped up with family affairs and was too busy to check in on the first day. The second day had him concerned that she’d gotten hurt. By the third day, Jungkook was at his wit’s end.

Only to find out that she’d been snatched up before she ever got the chance to leave for Daegu. He shouldn’t have put her second to his job. He shouldn’t have let her leave their house to go to the train station alone.

He shouldn’t have let this happen.

The image of Eden’s beaten form in the video clip was branded across the forefront of his mind. Hoseok was angry, determined to track down the Jade Fang members who’d done this. Jungkook was angry that they were still part of the equation. They should have been eliminated years ago.

It wasn’t like they weren’t aware of what Im Changkyun was capable of. They’d seen the vicious things he’d done while they were Jade Fang members themselves. He didn’t think it was necessary to attend district meetings, feeling the rest of the bosses were beneath his standards of proper mafia leadership. Hoseok was his only equal and it appeared that he continued to see him as such.

Divine Intervention prevented Jungkook from leaving the house that night and storming the stronghold of the Jade Fangs alone. He would have burned every single one of their businesses down; he was determined to do so. Jimin escorted him home that night and there was a parcel waiting at home for Jungkook. His brother made him a drink and when Jungkook opened the package, he collapsed on the floor and cried until he could barely breathe.

It was a gift Eden prepared for him for his birthday – a handmade model of his dream car. Seated in the car were miniature figures of Eden and himself. He didn’t remember passing out. He didn’t remember Jimin tucking a blanket over him. He could only remember Eden’s face, smiling as they shared breakfast together the morning she was taken.

“Jungkook-ah,” called Jimin, pulling Jungkook out of his inner musings. There was concern painted over his brother’s face and he took a breath, waiting for him to continue. “I think we’ve covered everywhere here.”

Jungkook said nothing. Instead, he pulled out the small notebook he carried with him and scratched out Gangnam from the list. For two and a half days, they combed every single section of Gangnam they could. There was a part of him that knew that the Jade Fangs wouldn’t be so arrogant to hold her hostage in their former territory. But there was also a part of him that could reason Im Changkyun doing something so ridiculous as a form of “poetic justice” against them.

To him, the Golden Jackals never disbanded.

“What about the others?”

Jimin sighed, leaning against the driver’s side door of the car. “They’re hitting the other areas. Hoseok called in some favors from the other district bosses to let us through.”

All Jungkook did was nod. There was something off about this whole situation. Very off. There shouldn’t have been a single obstacle in the way of the other district heads when it came to taking over their territories. Yongsan and Gangnam were completely up for grabs; Hoseok said as much. Jungkook could only guess that Changkyun’s influence prevented them from stepping a single foot into their turf. He more than likely was determined to get Hoseok and the others back so they could do a mass district takeover.

“I don’t like that Tae Hyung went off by himself,” he suddenly said, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, “I don’t either.”

Jungkook frowned. “He still hasn’t checked in yet?”

“No.”

He didn’t want to prod any further. Jimin was probably more worried about Taehyung than any of them. While it was unsurprising that he went off on his own, it was unlike him to not have checked in by now. Taehyung wasn’t a morning person, which was why they all knew that he hadn’t slept while he was on the hunt.

Then again, none of them were really sleeping.

A soft ache throbbed at Jungkook’s temple. He pressed a hand to his chest, taking a small amount of comfort in feeling his wedding band dangling from the necklace chain. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle not knowing what was happening with Eden.

“Hyung, I—”

“She’s fine, Jungkook-ah.” Jimin’s words sliced through his own, as if he’d already predicted what he was going to say. When he met his brother’s gaze, he saw the reassuring smile tinged with just a hint of worry. “If I know her, she’ll make them regret the day they decided to take her.”

“Not before I do.”

Suddenly, Jimin and Jungkook’s phones chimed simultaneously – indicating they received a message. Both looked at their phones immediately and Jungkook felt his heart rate escalate. It wasn’t a matter of him losing hope as seeing the message renewed his vigor.

It was from Taehyung.

Taehyung: I found her. She’s near Namyangju in Gyeonggi-do. Somewhere in the Industrial District. I’m heading back now.

Jungkook looked at Jimin the same time he did. Without uttering a word, they flung the doors open to the car and hopped in. Jimin fired up the engine and punched it, speeding out of Gangnam. Jungkook stared at his phone as more messages came through from the others. It didn’t take him long to figure out that they were closer to that location than everyone else. It was a half an hour drive, traffic willing.

They’d get there first.

10:17 AM

Namyangju – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

Jungkook felt like it took them a hundred years to get to their destination. With every mile marker they passed, it brought him one step closer to finding Eden. One step closer to bringing her home. He clung to the smallest shreds of his willpower not to scream at Jimin to drive faster. They didn’t need to get into any kind of accident before they reached her.

Jimin swung the car into an empty street, the desolate district eerie even in the morning light. Jungkook tumbled from the passenger side, all but tearing his seatbelt from his body in the process. Jimin called after him, but he paid him no mind. His legs ate up the ground as he ran headlong into the central area of the decrepit buildings.

No one lived in the abandoned sections of the province anymore, but the government hadn’t bothered with tearing it down. His hope began to dwindle, realizing just how expansive the district was. It would take them hours to find her at this rate.

Resisting the urge to scream, he slowed to a jogging pace before stopping altogether. Running around blindly without a single clue as to where to look would get him nowhere. They were just wasting time. There was even the chance that the group would up and relocate themselves before they could even have a chance at finding them.

Eden would be lost forever.

He heard Jimin run up behind him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. Jungkook did his best to tether his scattered thoughts, chasing away the worst possibilities from his mind. He needed to calm down and think.

“There were a few cars parked near the back,” he said after catching his breath, “we might need to go up top to get a better idea of where they might be.”

Jungkook nodded, pointing straight ahead. “I’ll head to that building down there. Text me if you find anything.”

Just as he was about to take off, Jimin grabbed him – halting his movements.

“No, we stick together.” Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but Jimin’s glare quickly silenced him. “If something happens, we won’t be able to do anything alone. We’re stronger together.”

While he wanted to argue, he knew that his brother was right. Even if splitting up would help them cover more ground, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t have a way to defend themselves if they got caught in a sticky situation. Jungkook did his best to push down his mounting impulsivities. Charging in blindly was foolish and would most likely get them killed.

“Alright, Hyung,” Jungkook said, relenting, “let’s go together.”

Not wasting another moment, they tore off down the center of the district – eyes rapidly searching in every direction their necks would allow them to turn.

10:32 AM

Minutes crept by at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook did everything he could to keep his head together. There were too many horrifying images playing rapidly in his head, like a flipbook that ended in blood splatters. Jimin stayed at his side, matching his pace as well as his fervor. Every so often, they would stop to peek into various buildings. They climbed up to higher vantage points to get a better lay of the area, dipping off to resume their search.

Everything looked so dead from the inside out.

A scream tore through the vast emptiness, causing Jungkook to trip over his own feet and he came crashing to the ground. Jimin was immediately beside him, grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him back up. Jungkook’s heart pounded double-time in his chest; it hurt. A cold sweat broke out over his skin and he couldn’t stop his body from trembling, even though Jimin rubbed small circles on his back.

“E-Eden,” he barely managed to croak, his legs shaking to the point where it was difficult to stand. Jimin continued to hold him up. “That was her!”

The sound was close.

Jimin said nothing. He continued to guide them along the path, turning around corners until he heard his wife scream again. It was even closer. They were almost to her!

He felt his brother release the hold he had on him and Jungkook involuntarily sagged against the side of a building. He didn’t know where they were or how deep into the district they’d gone. Jimin’s expression was focused and if he was feeling any sort of turmoil, it never showed. Not once.

The building they were pressed against was yellowed from age and neglect. Numerous cracks ran along the sides and bits of paint were peeling back; some pieces flying away from even the slightest gust of wind. The window had a long crack running from an upward angle to the corner of the pane; dirty and smudged. Jimin wiped a hand across the bottom to get rid of the dirt so he could see inside. Jungkook sidled up beside him to peek in as well.

He could feel Jimin’s vice-like grip on his shoulder, pinning him in place. Jungkook’s vision blurred momentarily before regaining focus, zeroing in on the image of his wife strung up like some animal. There were a few lackeys around and appeared to be bored – as if they were waiting for something interesting to happen. Jungkook felt the muscle at his jaw throbbing viciously as he clenched his teeth, grinding them in anger.

He wanted a gun. He would have emptied a clip into every single one of them.

Jungkook tried to move, but Jimin wouldn’t let him go.

“Hyung!” came his harsh whisper, but Jimin shook his head roughly.

“Wait, Jungkook,” he hissed back, finally letting him go, “just wait.”

“I can’t, dammit!”

“You can and you will.” Jimin’s words were final. “We don’t even know what kind of weapons they have in there. If Changkyun’s willing to play dirty like this, there’s no guarantee that his men won’t fill us full of holes with guns they obtained illegally.”

Jungkook wanted to protest, but he knew that Jimin was right. They needed to assess the situation fully before making a move. If they ran in there blindly without understanding what they were up against, there was a chance that Eden would die in the crossfire.

“So what now?”

Jimin continued to look through the window and he could see the wheels in his head turning. Strategy was his strongest suit so Jungkook did his best to be as patient as possible. A handful of seconds passed before he turned to meet his gaze.

“I’m going to go in from the front.”

“What?!” Jungkook gave him an incredulous look. “That’s crazy. Are you crazy?!”

“Shut-up and listen to me.” Jimin turned to look back through the window. “I’m going to draw their attention to me. This window is loose so as soon as I get them to chase me, I want you to go in and grab Eden and then get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t like this plan.

“There’s ten of them, Hyung. Maybe more. You can’t outrun them all.”

Jimin grinned, still peering into the building. “I can try.”

Jungkook grabbed his shoulder. “Hyung!”

He felt his arm being yanked off abruptly, causing him to take a step back. Jimin cast an icy glare in his direction.

“Do what I say.”

He wanted to protest again. He wanted to tell him that this was suicide. They should wait for the others. Wouldn’t that have been the smart thing?

But if they waited too long, then they may miss their chance. The Jade Fangs could probably swarm them, call for more men, and then overtake them completely. Jungkook knew that the plan was the best option they had right now.

It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Without waiting for him to agree or even disagree, Jimin turned and ran down one side of the building. He rounded the corner and disappeared on the other side, leaving Jungkook alone to wait. There was a distinct feeling of dread sweeping over him, telling him that there was danger to watch out for. But wasn’t that obvious? Didn’t they understand that, knowingly showing up to this place?

This was unavoidable.

A loud bang rang out inside the large interior. Jungkook peered over the bottom of the window, craning his neck as best he could. Light flooded into the dark space as he watched Jimin’s shadow stretching along the floor. All the men inside turned around, grabbing what weapons they had near them to launch an assault. Jimin immediately dispatched one of the lackeys close to the door before turning to run away from the building. All but two gave chase.

Now!

Jungkook thrust the window open, causing it to break further from the force. He leaped in through the opening and charged forward. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction caused by his entrance, Jungkook barreled into the man closest to him – taking him down with a swift grappling throw. The man landed on his head; a distinct crack heard from his skull smacking into the concrete.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of silver, and he dodged at the last second. Whirling his body around, he jumped back with his arms extended out as another man tried to hit him with a metal bat. Jungkook bobbed and weaved out of the way, moving just out of reach at the last possible moment. Pivoting on his back leg, he waited for the man to try to swing at him again before catching the bat in his hand and pulling it toward him. The man slid on his heels, the distance closing rapidly. Jungkook aimed a kick straight for his stomach and sent him flying.

He brought the bat down over the man’s head for good measure.

With the two men unconscious, Jungkook swerved around and ran toward Eden. He did his best to avoid looking at her injuries, not wanting to distract himself from the most important task he had: freeing her. As he looked at her restraints, he did his best to concentrate on her face. She was semi-conscious, the noise bringing her out of whatever fugue state she was in.

“J-Jungkook-ah?” She coughed. “Y-You shouldn’t be here…”

“Shh,” he admonished, his eyes flicking over her bindings, “save your strength.”

His hands moved with lightning speed, fidgeting over the ropes and chains binding her as she hung from a large hook attached to the ceiling. When he finally managed to loosen the ropes, he lifted her up by her waist so he could untether her from the hook. Her arms dangled limply around his neck; the chains clamped around her wrists jingling together with the sudden movement.

Her body lacked the strength to keep herself upright and she nearly collapsed to the ground. Jungkook held fast to her, moving her arms over his head so he could undo the chains around her wrists. He could tell she’d lost weight and she seemed almost a shell of who he knew her to be. He focused on getting her to safety – choosing to smother his fury into the pit of his stomach.

“Go,” she whispered as he held onto her, “get out of here.” She coughed again. “Leave me.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he snapped, draping her arm over his shoulder as he held onto her waist, “now come on.”

Jungkook wouldn’t hear anymore of this nonsense, even if it was coming from the woman he loved. She was barefoot, but there wasn’t any glass on the ground. If she didn’t think she’d be able to walk, he’d carry her on his back and dare her to say otherwise.

Shuffling toward the entrance, he could hear men yelling in the distance. But it sounded like it was getting closer. Jimin was circling back, probably to make sure that they’d gotten out. If they could hold out a little longer, the others would come and then they could cause a big enough scene to get the hell out.

Just as he reached the entryway, he turned to make sure the two men he’d dealt with were still on the ground. Satisfied that they weren’t going to be getting up anytime soon, he turned back toward the exit.

A shadow moved from the corner. Eden saw it before he did. Jungkook shuffled to the left. He was half a step short.

The pain didn’t register at first. All he could focus on was Yoo Kihyun who was now directly in his path to freedom. It wasn’t until he saw the older man take a step forward that Jungkook took a step back. But not of his own freewill. He was forced to step back.

The knife in his gut pushed him to move.

Eden screamed but he barely heard it. Jungkook nearly dropped her, but his stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to fall. Not in front of him; her captor. A chilling smile painted over Kihyun’s face as he tilted his head, peering into Jungkook’s eyes. It was like he was asking him what his next move would be without having to say it out loud. For a split second, Jungkook’s vision blurred.

Releasing the hold he had on Eden’s arm, he grabbed a hold of the knife and pushed back – pulling the blade slowly from his gut. Kihyun blinked in surprise at him, watching as he drew the older man’s arm away from his body while still holding his wife fast to him. Again, Eden screamed, but this time she moved with whatever strength was left in her body – arms reaching out in a feral manner.

She scratched her nails across Kihyun’s face, forcing him to reach up and cover his cheek. Jungkook stepped forward, pulling the knife completely from his stomach, before spinning it in his blood-soaked fingers to grasp the blade’s handle. Kihyun stumbled backward a step and Jungkook quickly closed the distance, plunging the knife directly into his shoulder and aiming a kick to his knee. He waited for him to hit the dirt before pulling Eden quickly behind him.

He didn’t have to express the need for urgency.

They both disappeared into a nearby cluster of reeds.

10:45 AM

Blood wept from the side of Jimin’s head as he rounded the corner of a building. He held onto a rusty metal pipe, clutching it at his side. He knew one of his ribs were broken, if not two, and there was a good chance he very nearly sprained his ankle hopping over a broken-down car to avoid being clobbered with a length of chain. He quickly did a tally in his head, making a note that he was able to knock down four of the eight that were chasing him. Two of them he tripped up along their pursuit and the rest were now trying to comb the nearby streets in search of him.

Hearing Eden’s scream forced him to double back toward the building where he’d left Jungkook. It wasn’t the sound of agony. It was of outrage. Something must have happened. He needed to get back to them and quickly.

Jimin wiped some of the sweat and blood from his head, spitting at the ground. Once his heart calmed down, he tried to ascertain his whereabouts. Just two buildings over and he’d be right back where he’d started.

Come on, Park Jimin. Calm down and focus.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, eyeing the screen. It was from Yoongi.

Yoongi: We’re almost there! Where are you guys? Give us a landmark!

Taking a moment to breathe, he turned his head in every direction to try and gauge a decent landmark for the others to follow. There was a cluster of blue barrels far away from the abandoned buildings, just toward the edge where a large field of reeds were. He quickly texted him back, letting him know the location.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, gripping the metal pipe in both hands. Now he just needed to get back to Jungkook who, he hoped, had Eden in tow.

His phone buzzed again; this time in succession. Someone was calling him.

Dipping into a nearby building, he hunkered down in a shadowed corner to look at the phone. It was Jungkook. He answered.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“H-Hyung…”

Jimin could tell something was wrong.

“Where are you?”

“T-The…the reeds…”

He had to refrain from cursing. There were reeds in every direction. He took a breath to calm his nerves.

“What else do you see around you?”

There was a pregnant pause and he wondered if something was happening with the call.

Jimin-ah?”

It was Eden. His heart practically jumped into his throat.

“Oh, thank God he got you out. Are you alright?”

“Never mind that. Jungkook’s hurt.”

He could hear the frantic tone in her voice. Jimin tried to smooth his voice out in a way that would help take the edge off for her.

“Okay, just breathe. Can you tell me where you guys are right now?”

“I can’t really see anything. The reeds are so thick.”

“Can you see any barrels around you?”

“Hold on.”

It was only a few seconds, but Jimin felt like he was losing years off his life as he waited for her to answer.

“I can see some blue ones. But they’re far away.”

He resisted the urge to smile. They weren’t that far from his current location.

“How far?”

“Several yards. They’re across that dirt path.”

“Okay, good.” His side screamed at him from the position he was in, but he ignored it. “I want you to meet me there, okay?”

It sounded like she was about to sob which unnerved him.

“Can’t you just come here? Jungkook’s hurt badly and I don’t have the strength to carry him.”

Jimin hissed quietly to himself. I told him to be careful… He took a breath. “Alright, I’ll come to you. I’ll be there soon.”

“Hurry!”

Ending the call, Jimin slipped out the back of the building and made his way around the next bend. Part of him wanted to throw the pipe off in a different direction, hoping the noise would distract others away from his path. But if they got flanked, he’d need a way to defend Eden, Jungkook, and himself. Especially if Jungkook was as hurt as Eden claimed he was.

This isn’t good, he thought, tearing through the back alleyway and heading up the side of the street to disappear into the thicket of reeds.

10:57 AM

Even though he knew he’d only traveled a few blocks, it felt like he’d been moving for miles. Each turn he made, Jimin thought he was getting more and more lost. Every so often, he’d turn his head to look over his shoulder and spy out the buildings – making sure that he was still on a straight path to the others. He heard some of the other men shouting at each other, trying to figure out where they’d gone, and each of these times, Jimin would pause so that he didn’t give away his position.

Just as he was about to resume his search, he heard a distinct shuffling sound off to his right. It was close.

“J-Jimin-ah? Is that you?”

It was Eden. She sounded exhausted and halfway to the underworld, but it was her. Jimin quickly darted in the direction of her voice, parting the reeds in front of him as he went.

A lump of ice dropped in his stomach at what he saw.

There, cradled in her arms, was Jungkook. A large blood stain blossomed from his shirt and he saw Eden pressing his jacket to his stomach and putting pressure on the injury. She was crying, doing her best to keep her sobs nonexistent so they didn’t alert the others of where they were. She looked up, relief and despair battling for dominance over her features. Jimin dropped the pipe in his hands, his legs slowly carrying him toward Jungkook just as he spit up blood from his mouth.

“J-Jungkook-ah,” he stammered, collapsing to his knees.

Despite the obvious pain he was in, Jungkook flashed him a smile full of blood-stained teeth. “H-Hyung,” he managed to get out, albeit garbled from a mouthful of blood, “what took you so long?”

Jimin didn’t have the energy to snap back. He felt like part of his soul just left him completely. His eyes roved over Jungkook’s body, trying to figure out the cause of his brother’s current state. He lifted his gaze to meet Eden’s.

“What happened?”

“It was Kihyun,” she said weakly while brushing some of the fringe off of Jungkook’s forehead, “he came out of nowhere and—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook interjected, causing them both to focus on him, “Hyung, get her out of here.”

Another piece of his soul was pulled away.

“W-What?”

Eden shifted him in her arms, clinging to him in desperation. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Yes, you are.” Jungkook reached up to his neck, grabbing the necklace and popping it off in one quick motion. He smeared blood over his skin and clothes, holding it up for Eden. “Take it and go.”

She emphatically shook her head and Jimin could tell that even doing this was zapping her of what strength she had left.

“You bastard,” she muttered, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket, “how can you expect me to leave you? Huh?” Eden lowered herself, pulling him against her body to hug him close. “Till death do us part, remember?”

Jungkook did his best to wrap an arm around her, coughing more blood out and staining her shirt. “…and this…is where…we part.”

Eden shot back, looking down at Jungkook as tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his cheeks.

“J-Jungkook,” she stammered, her bottom lip trembling as her voice shook.

Again, he smiled up at her. “I love you, Eden.” He grabbed her hand and placed the necklace inside her palm, closing her fingers over it. “If…if I’m reborn, let me love you in the next life too, okay?”

Jimin could hear his own heart shattering in his chest.

“Hyung…take her and go.”

“But Jungkook-ah—”

“Please.”

Tears leaked out of Jimin’s eyes. It took everything he had, but he stood up and crossed over to where Eden was. She continued to hold onto her husband, refusing to let go even as Jimin tried to pull her up and onto her feet. She fought him but even she knew that she didn’t have the strength to keep it up. Jimin held her against him and they both gazed at the satisfied and peaceful expression on Jungkook’s face. He nodded to them, mouthing for them to go.

Jimin turned, hauling Eden with him as she wailed silently into the crook of his shoulder.

I’ll come back for you, Jungkook. I won’t leave you alone out here...

11:05 AM

He knew that it was only a few minutes since he watched Eden and his brother leave. In those few minutes, Jungkook believed it was several lifetimes. In those few minutes, he thought back to everything that led to this very moment. All the choices he’d made, the road he’d traveled, and the people he’d traveled on that road with along the way.

He regretted nothing up until that moment.

The only thing he knew he would have to repent for would be leaving his beautiful wife behind alone. They’d had a few chapters written in their life together, but they were pages filled with hopes and dreams for an uncertain future. Life never gave guarantees. The only certainty for life was death. It was the same for everyone.

The sun was reaching its peak over the skies. There were very little clouds littering the pale blue blanket above him and he wasn’t sure if it was the bright light that was making it difficult to see or something else. Jungkook lost feeling to the lower half of his body nearly two minutes earlier.

Again, he coughed and more blood sprayed from his mouth. Tears brimmed his eyes, slipping from the corners to seep into his ears.

My brothers…

Jungkook could feel his eyelids growing a little heavier with each passing second, but he forced them to stay open.

Eden…

But the darkness began to creep around the corners of his vision, blurring out the light until it was a faint glow in his line of sight.

He wanted to keep feeling the warmth of the sun on his face until the very end.

…until we meet again.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 21: The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1522

Ooh, the chapter title is the same as the fic title 

Elianna could not have been more proud of her mask. She had spent every second of her free time measuring and adjusting and sewing and sending Jonathan to the store to get what she needed: something he found tedious, she was sure.

Either way, she had gotten it finished with one day to spare, and she was positively giddy. Even Jonathan had seemed impressed, and from what she could tell by what he had said, Scarecrow was thrilled with her dedication to the fear project. When she had finished, Jonathan had surprised her with a fear gas sleeve rig like his, and she was aching for the chance to use both of her new toys.

It was getting dark out when Jonathan came into her office, looking annoyed.

"Rachel Dawes is on her way here," he monotoned, making her frown. She had yet to meet Dawes, but she had been causing trouble for them from the start.

"Why?"

"Apparently," he began with a sigh, removing the doorstopper to let it swing closed, "she disagrees with the fact that Falcone got moved here. She finds his mental break suspicious."

"She's really up on her white horse, huh?" Jonathan scoffed in response.

"Either way, she might back off if she thinks I have a second opinion on this case. Are you up for a little acting?"

"Absolutely. What's the plan for if she doesn't buy it?"

"You have your mask on you?" El nodded, fondly remembering Jonathan talking her through making the false bottom of her briefcase.

"We match now!"

"Yes, we do. Just make sure it closes all the way when you're done with it."

"Good, she'll be here in a little under an hour. And we're the only ones here besides the orderlies, so I just got Falcone's men downstairs to supervise. Hopefully, everything will be able to go smoothly tomorrow."

"I'm sure it will just focus on the task at hand."

El had been surprised when Jonathan told her that he had managed to pay off some of Falcone's thugs to be loyal to them, and more than a little suspicious. But after meeting them and working with them for a few days, she was actually very grateful that she and Jonathan had people to delegate to for the last few days of work.

.xXx.

Dawes ended up arriving much earlier than projected, which only served to irritate Jonathan further. The entire walk to Falcone's cell was spent with him practically fuming and El becoming more and more curious about just how annoying one person could actually be.

"Miss Dawes, this is most irregular," Jonathan spoke as they approached, not giving the woman a chance to get the first word in. El caught on to the energy and jumped in before the other woman could get a word out.

"I'm Doctor Montgomery, I've been consulting on this case, and I speak for both of us when I say that we have nothing further to add to the report we filed with the judge."

"I have some questions about your report."

"Such as?" Jonathan challenged while El arranged her face into what she hoped was something patient and expectant. God, she really is tiresome.

"Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two-year-old man who had no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he's about to be indicted?" She had a fair point, but El made sure to keep her face impassive.

"Well, as you can see for yourself, there's nothing convenient about his symptoms." Oh dear, he's getting pissed. The woman didn't have a response planned for that, so she turned her attention stubbornly back to the man behind the glass, who was muttering to himself.

"What's 'scarecrow?'" The brunette fired off. El took it upon herself to reply so that Jonathan wouldn't snap.

"Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor," she explained, doing her best to keep her voice pleasant and collegial. "Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case," she gestured to the glass, "a scarecrow."

"And he's drugged?" This question seemed to amuse Jonathan.

"Psychopharmacology is my primary field. I'm a strong advocate." The thought of Jonathan being an 'advocate' for anything nearly made El laugh. "Outside, he was a giant. In here, only the mind can grant you power." Dawes shifted her eyes between the pair through narrowed eyes.

"You two enjoy the reversal." Jonathan allowed himself a mildly amused smile if only for a second.

"Doctor Montgomery and I respect the mind's power over the body." El nodded in agreement.

"It's why we do what we do," she smiled, keeping up her friendly persona. She was hoping that if she did her part properly, maybe it would lessen the suspicion on Jonathan, but it didn't seem to work. In fact, Dawes sent a scowl in her direction.

"I do what I do to keep thugs like Falcone behind bars, not in therapy." With that, she breezed past them toward the elevator. Jonathan and El shared a look, knowing what had to happen next. She was still talking as they turned to catch up with her. "I want my own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone, including bloodwork. Find out exactly what you two put him on." El rolled her eyes, thankful that the Dawes's back was still turned to her.

"First thing tomorrow then," Jonathan sighed as they flanked her at the elevator doors, knowing what had to come next.

"Tonight," she charged into the elevator ahead of them, and El suddenly understood very well why Jonathan and Scarecrow seemed to hate the brunette so much. She herself was struggling not to choke her out right there in the elevator. "I've already paged Doctor Lehmann at County General" as if they were supposed to know who that was. Maybe Jonathan did, but judging by his lack of reaction, probably not.

Jonathan inserting his key to take them to the basement didn't go unnoticed by the redhead, but Dawes didn't seem to catch it. "As you wish," he forced out through gritted teeth as the door closed behind them.

Dawes gave Elianna a questioning look when the doors opened to reveal the basement, to which El replied with a reassuring smile.

"This way, please," Jonathan directed, leading them into the hallway. "There's something I think you should see."

The one thing that El didn't understand was how they would get her through the secret panel in the closet. She was going over different scenarios in her head when Jonathan passed the door and instead approached a larger one at the end of the hallway where it turned and pushed the double doors open dramatically.

They all came forward to stand on a balcony overlooking the workroom that El had grown familiar with, one level above where the secret panel led out. She understood now why they took the other way: the stairs going from the level they were standing on to the next level down had been taken out.

The redhead watched the dawning horror on the attorney's face as she took in what was happening as Jonathan spoke again.

"This is where we make the medicine." No, not Jonathan. It was subtle, but once she heard it, it was unmistakable. That was Scarecrow mimicking Jonathan's voice. Dawes was too shocked to notice the slight change in cadence, and her gaze was affixed to an inmate pouring a drum of the toxin directly into a busted open water pipe.

Not just any inmate either. Zsasz. Feeling someone watching him, he looked up in curiosity; when he saw El standing there, he shuddered and quickly turned back to what he was doing, his breath coming in broken gasps as he remembered something he would rather not. Elianna grinned when she saw Rachel make the connection and snap her head to look at her. "You-!" she managed to gasp out.

"Me," El confirmed with a wink. A low chuckle drew their attention back to the bespectacled man beside them.

"Perhaps you should have some, Miss Dawes. Clear your head." The brunette woman bolted for the elevator, and the two leftover partners in crime shared a look. Scarecrow smiled at El, a full smile; something she had never seen from Jonathan. It was sort of nice to see, and she smiled back as Scarecrow produced his face fluidly from their briefcase.

Rachel had reached the elevator. Luckily for the scheming pair, it wouldn't budge without the basement key. All Rachel managed to see when the elevator doors opened again were two masks, one burlap and one that seemed to be lined on the outside with faux leather, fashioned into a long, sleek beak.

Then, a cloud of gas—fired at the same time that she gasped in fear—and she coughed as the gas entered her lungs. When she looked back up, the masks had been distorted and twisted, oozing from the holes and crawling with...god, something. It didn't matter because they each seized an arm and dragged her back out of the elevator before her thoughts dissolved completely.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

10 for the promptssssssss

Know your audience, she cackled manically to herself while fulfilling  @firesign23′s prompt. 😂

high school popular kid/nerd au

---

They had started school within the same week, mid-year as Year 12s, which is slightly unusual, but not unheard of. Their paths veer pretty quickly after that though.

She is gorgeous and smart and charming and kind, which is a combination that makes her popular with just about everyone. He is intelligent and quiet and notices simply everything, which doesn’t make him unpopular, per se, but does quickly establish him as a nerd. Which is cool in its own way, but not in her way, so they don’t see each other much. He notices her, of course, because he notices simply everything. And she definitely sees him, because he is equal parts enigma and attractive, and it is a small, private school besides, where everyone kind of knows everyone anyway. But they really don’t have much in common and they definitely don’t travel in the same circles.

They both ask a lot of questions though. A lot of questions.

So many, in fact, that they’re each quickly recruited for the school’s newspaper. That’s where they meet for the first time in person, in the third floor office that is home to The Warleigh Warbler.

There is a spark, immediately, unexpected and unwanted by either for obvious reasons, and so they mumble their hellos and then quickly retreat to their corners — hers, a large and boisterous gaggle of girls, and his, his laptop.

They work like ships in the night, specifically avoiding each other until one night, when Phryne is in the newspaper office alone, very, very late. The office is quiet and dark and there’s no reason for Jack to think she or anyone is in there, which is the only reason he lets down his guard.

He is on his mobile as he enters, speaking quietly, but she has excellent hearing and catches every word.

“Yes, sir, I’m trying, but I need a warrant for that and it hasn’t come in... No, apparently they were late issuing the preservation notice to the telco company... Yes, I’ll keep working on it… Thank you, sir, I’ll be in touch soon.”

He ends the call and turns on the light and sees her and then the fluorescent bulbs might as well be headlights because he is a deer in them.

She stares at him, mouth agape, and he stammers for a moment before recovering. Poorly.

“Research,” he mutters. “For an assignment in government.”

“Liar,” she accuses. “I’m in that class too, and we have no such assignment.”

“Rubbish. I’m doing it for extra credit.”

“Oh, sure, and they regularly teach preservation notice in government class.”

“I’ll have you know Mr. Johnson is a big proponent of civil liberties and is likely just — wait a minute, how do you know what it is?”

She looks flustered for the first time since he’s known her. “I’m… precocious?” Her voice goes up at the end, like a neon sign flashing that she is stretching the truth to the point that it’s now risking a fracture.

They stare at each other for a full thirty seconds before their respective light bulbs go off.

“You’re undercover!” they shout simultaneously, eyes narrowed, egos bruised.

(It is a little embarrassing that neither caught on to the other earlier.)

They call a tentative truce, get cans of Coke from the vending machine and sit up in the newspaper office for several hours after that, swapping stories. He’s a recent graduate of the police academy, undercover here on his first big assignment. She’s a junior reporter for the Herald Sun also on hers. They’re both investigating the same case — someone on the faculty is using the school to launder money for some very nasty people and they’re both determined to figure out who.

By their third can, they decide to work together.

The other students take notice of course, the most popular girl in school hanging out with the shy, quiet guy.

Though it makes a certain amount of sense.

(It makes an awful lot of sense.)

They’re making progress and flirting and building a case and flirting. There is a lot of flirting. But they don’t take it any further than suggestive banter over Shakespeare assignments and longing looks over bunsen burners; it's a weird situation and neither wants to make it weirder.

And then one afternoon it gets much, much weirder.

They’ve broken into the records room during an all staff meeting, in search of some important paperwork, when the door they had definitely locked behind them opens and in walks Jane Ross.

Phryne and Jack stare at her for a moment, wheels turning as they try to come up with a believable excuse, but Jane doesn’t give them the chance.

“You almost done?” she asks. “Find what you need?”

“Need?” Jack asks, voice cracking a little. He tells himself it’s for the character.

“For your case,” Jane clarifies. “You’re a copper, right?”

She asks it as a question, but she’s just being polite.

“What?” he sputters. “I’m not a… why would you… I’m a student. Like you.”

“Oh yes.” Jane rolls her eyes. “'How do you do, fellow kids?”

Jack is low-key panicking, but Phryne, who knows Jane much better, just bursts out laughing.

“How did you know?” she asks.

“Really?” Jane looks between them incredulously. “We all know.” She gestures to Phryne. “You could probably pass on your own, I guess, but he looks 40.”

“40!” Jack has bypassed panicking and is now well on his way to pissed. “I’m 23!”

“Whatever, grandpa. I just came to let you know the meeting is ending and you should get out soon.” She turns to leave, but Phryne calls after her.

“You said everyone knows?”

Jane nods.

“The teachers too?”

“Oh no,” Jane shakes her head. “Just the students. It’s like… it’s like that reporter we learned about. Nellie… something or other. Oh Nellie Bly! You know, when she went undercover at the Women's Asylum, and all the patients knew she was faking but the staff had no clue.”

“You’re the patients?” Jack asks skeptically.

“We’re the ones who don’t just buy whatever we’re sold,” she clarifies. “And since it was clear you were investigating the teachers, we figured you were probably here to help.” She opens the door and steps into the hall, calling over her shoulder as she does. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, whatever you’re investigating, my money’s on Mr Merton or Ms Gay — they’re both super shady.”

Then she leaves, both the room and the two adults in her wake.

Still a little stunned herself, but recovering quickly, Phryne looks over at Jack. “Are you ok?” This is his first big case and she’s worried about how he’s taking such a spectacular snag in his undercover assignment.

“No,” he admits. “Phryne… do I really look 40?”

She stifles a smile. “If anything you look distinguished and I’m sure working with me has aged you in any case.” He just grunts and she shakes her head fondly, standing up and making her way over to the filing cabinets.

He makes no move to join her, though, so she glances over her shoulder at him. “Hurry up and help me, Jack. The sooner we close this, the sooner you can ask me out without it being a terrible idea.”

He’s still reeling, but he has the nerve to smirk at her all the same. “Pretty sure it’s still a terrible idea, but I’m gonna do it anyway.”

“Good,” she says, already back to work, but grinning all the same.

Jack sighs and begins his search. “I can’t believe we got busted by a 17-year-old,” he mutters.

“She’s 14,” Phryne tells him.

“What???”

---

They close the case two days later.

It is Mr Merton AND Ms Gay.

Of course it is.

| Short Fic Ask |

[devilsuga]

The Missing Key

Pt.1

Pairing: Yoongi x reader; Possible others x reader

Au: Supernatural; modern day; hunters

Word count: Uhm I ain’t counting

Warnings: Dark themes; gore; sex; possible tw

Summary: The struggles of her past lead her into an asylum by her foster parents who couldn’t look after her. Sightings of seven spirits in her dream haunted her till the day she got put on medication and her brain fried. On her 18th birthday she’s free but with a simple address of her old home scribbled on crumpled paper does it lead her to mysteries. Mysteries awaiting because no one listened to her. To Van Helsings future grand daughter.

A/n: This whole story is based off a working rp between me and my friend @ahelishgoodgirl because she told me that I should get into fanfic writing so... that’s what I’m doing :)

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Wind whips along trees, creating haunting sounds that whistle past my ears as I walk down the empty road into the busy city of Seoul. Left to my own devices, I had been admitted to an asylum for five years but yesterday was my eighteenth birthday which mean I left today. A relief if you ask me, the amount of horrid therapy and drugs they injected into my system left me surprised I wasn’t dead or an addict.

My converse patter slowly on the soaked concrete ground, having rained early hours of this morning and still not drying up even as it’s dark now. My foster parents never visited me during my time at the asylum, made me realise that I practically don’t have anyone... no one at all. Thankfully my mind had forgotten about the seven men I’d see, whom speak to me in my dreams and what they’d tell me each time. Maybe it was the electro shock therapy that made them disappear.

Looking at the address scribbled on lined paper that I solely gripped onto I looked up at the house I once remembered growing up in... now no longer lively but a shit hole. Bricks crumbled from the wooden stables that held this home together, windows smashed... garden over grown and graffiti everywhere. Compared to the other houses surrounding the street... this was the only dead one here. Begrudgingly I enter past the police tape strewn beside the front door frames, looking around confused as my feet take me up torn carpet stairs, finding my old room and seeing it... gone. Either looters... or someone was trying to find something because everything was everywhere. It was clear mother and father were not here.

“Bastards..” I whispered, soon finding an old teddy of mine, my pink bunnie. It was dirty now, no longer got that beautiful pink tint it had... but now muddy... dirty. That’s how I felt now standing here. Walking back downstairs I check around some more, seeing nothing but empty beer bottles or needles. That was until I head movement down in the basement, my bones freezing as I gulped and walked to the door under the stairs, slowly opening it and walking down. “Hello?” My feet once again thud along the wooden stair case that was rotting away.

The sound you heard was a man who had taken asylum in the basement. He was a drugged up junkie who could barely tell what was real and what was fake. He looked up at your scared body. “Hello there” he smiled “I remember you, there is a picture of you in the hallway” he laughed “what’s the matter little girl? Are you sad about something?” He asked a needle in his arm “you’re the daughter that made it right?” He said leaning back “it’s a shame the people who lived here got attacked... by animals” he chuckled eyes slightly closing. “They shouldn’t of let the door open. Inviting things they shouldn’t... shame shame but not for me as I have a home now” he laughed trying to stand, he failed but it was obvious he wanted to reach you.

“Uh...” I stepped back, frowning at the ‘animal attack’ as how could anyone let an animal in?

“What do you mean ‘shouldn’t be letting anything in?’” I asked, looking at him. Frowning at the needle in his arm I stayed on the lower step, keeping my distance. The man laughed and laughed, he didn’t answer your question at all. Instead he slowly drifted off to sleep. There was nothing I could say, it was as if the wind was calling you out. A few miles into the woods stood a huge torn palace with 7 dark secrets inside.

Frowning I back out of the house, exiting the home I had to forget as I shook my head. The wind whispers to my ears, making me look to the woods. “Huh?” Slowly I step into the tree line, seeing almost an apparition float through the trees... a child. “Hello?” I called out, starting to follow this strange child.

“Follow” he whispered and walked into the woods. The child kept looking back every now and then to make sure you were following. He was pretty much silent, he knew you’d follow, you had nothing to lose. Did you? Before you knew it you stood in front of an enormous house. “In” the kid whispered pointing at the front door.

“Are you sure?” I softly whispered, slowly walking up to the doors of what appeared to be some worn down palace.

“What is this place?” As I turned to see the little boy... he was gone. It made me frown but I creeped inside anyways, looking around and covering my nose at all the dust so it wouldn’t make me sneeze. That’s when I heard voices.

“Tell us!” Someone said “where is the girl? The last of the name you so much hate?” Suho asked, slapping around the starving vampires who were chained to the walls. They wouldn’t speak, too weak to say anything and too weak to even try. Blood is what they craved at the moment and they swore if they had the opportunity they would rip this bastards apart. One of the vampires, yoongi looked up at him and softly chuckled. “The fuck are you making fun of blood sucker?” He asked before punching him.

Hearing voices I frowned, sounding as if a fight was going to break out as I walked towards a door. I tried to listen in against the rotting wood of the door but failed, tripping over my own feet and stumbling into the room as I looked up at a strange group of men in hunting gear with wide eyes. But then... I looked over to the seven ‘things’ who had haunted my whole life... chained to a wall.

“W-what...”

“Who the hell are you?” Asked baekhyun who furrowed his eyebrows and came close to you. “Psh just a stupid human. What say ye? A little snack for the blood suckers?” He laughed making the rest shake their heads “nah they aren’t deserving of it.. why not have a little fun with her? Each one gets a turn?” Suho smirked licking his lips.

“Y-you... what...” my eyes were more focused on the seven beaten up males who haunted my mind and practically sent me to an insane asylum. That’s when I turned to look at the other men. “You fucking touch me and I’ll kick your ass, I didn’t get sent to an insane asylum for nothing.” I glared at the strange men who were talking about me. It was more flight or fight defense, my words meaning nothing but to keep a facade up.

“Insane asylum fellas” baek laughed grabbing you by the hair and throwing you onto the ground. “Careful, we all want to have a taste” they laughed. Yoongi one of the vampires took a liking to you, pretty, just like his long dead wife. “Pshh” he whispered while the men talked about who would have the first turn “give me a little blood and I’ll save you” he said.

Looking up at one of the males who haunted my dreams I scoffed. “Like hell! You seven... strange men haunted me ever since I was a little girl! I’m not giving you shit so thanks for sending me to an asylum!” I huffed, glaring at him.

“We did?” Yoongi asked, it clicked on his head who you were but the hunters didn’t know. “Fine then I hope you’re not a virgin... they’ll tear you apart” he smirked “so then me” yelled baekhyun who turned to undress you or at least pull your panties down. “Stop it honey, if you fight it’ll be worse” Yoongi looked over at you scoffing “just a little blood” he whispered.

I screamed as I tried to kick the hunter away, looking at the male before having no choice but to cut my hand open on a rusted nail poking out of the ground, holding it up to his lips so he could drink. “Q-quick!” I said, knowing I was a virgin and I wasn’t ready yet.

Yoongi smirked taking a sweet bite, he drank a little less than half of your blood and escaped the painful chains. Breaking his brothers chains “don’t touch her” he said, he wanted to hurt you now that he knew who you were but at the same time he wanted to protect you. “Weapons boys” suho yelled, baek being thrown back by Yoongi. The guys didn’t waste a minute sucking him dry.

I covered myself back up, heart racing as I managed to crawl over to the door. I needed to get out of here, chills were being sent down my spine whilst I ran to the front door to escape.

Yoongi got away from the hunters “where do you think you’re going helsing?” He chuckled picking you up with ease, his lips met yours with a burning intensity. You were his blood type and yet he couldn’t figure out where his dead wife was even though your blood was the key but something linked him to you. Something kept stopping him from killing you.

My eyes widened as I instantly shoved him away, holding my mouth. “The hell are you doing? My name isn’t helsing!” I huffed, frowning as my last name was l/n.

“You’re adopted! Helsing is your real name like it or not” he smirked “what am I doing? What I want with what belongs to me” he said kissing you again, “you’ll die if I don’t make you mine. They figure it out and your gone, you won’t make it past hmm 19?” He laughed.

“What? I’m so confused... how am I gonna die?” I huffed, shoving him away as I stepped back.

“I’m not yours at all!”

There were screeching screams inside the house. “Don’t you see what we are? We can tear you apart in seconds. In the end it’s your choice unless you state you want to be with me. But if you don’t then I’ll start digging your grave” he laughed “don’t believe me?” He asked, 2 of his brothers came out. “Now that we’re all better and our head is clear... along with yours sweetheart we can get in your mind. Again...” Namjoon smirked

“Have you missed us like we missed you?”

[sanscestships]

“Escapee” Asylum Zoo RedvBlue (Oneshot, RedxDustxClassicxBlue)

Created on: 10/26/20

Requested by: @pigeons-just-pigeons, i feel really stressed out right now by school and im going to try calming my nerves with writing. also apparently she really likes FeralVerse-

(WARNING: hella longer than usual. maybe cuz its 4 people instead of 2-)

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Classic didn't know how to feel about the situation. About alternate versions of himself just suddenly getting mutated and now he has to work with more versions of himself to find a cure. Really, the whole thing sounds like one of those animes Alphys watches.

Unfortunately, it was real. And he was dealing with it. Of course, Paps didn't know a thing and the kiddo was covering him while the player was inactive. Must be either a busy day or night for them probably.

The skeleton sighed, starting to feel himself drift off and slump against the couch in the lounge. Though he should probably be more concerned, he couldn't help himself but to want to take another nap for the day. He'd already done a skeleton of work, taking Nightmare on a patrol to see if any more mutants have popped up. And yes.

That alone, was enough for him to last the day.

See, just dealing with Nightmare can be tiring. Though he definitely won't speak to you nor act like a rabid animal the rest do. He'll continuously sass and growl at you, occasionally tripping or slapping you with the tendrils that start above his paws. Then there's patrols, where you actually have to walk around. And with Nightmare! Which means a LOT of tripping! Then there's dealing with the situation if you DO run into another mutant and...

Well, at least it's mostly Nightmare who has to tussle with em. After all, to fight a mutant you usually need another mutant.

Sometimes when Nightmare REALLY trips Ink, the colorful artist will complain and grumble that Nightmare's lucky to be alive. But Classic always thought it was the other way around. If Nightmare hadn't still been sane after the mutation, they all probably would've been bitten by now. Really, the only times they've ever had to help Nightmare hold down a mutant was with Cross and Dust.

Cross had been driven insane by the OVERWRITE soul, massive trauma from his AU, and weak condition from the aftermath of the fighting. Dust had been driven insane long before he killed everyone but hadn't acted upon it and mutated until he'd reached his breaking point.

To think he could've ended up like that if he'd done the same as Dust. Well...

Technically he did, since Dust is him from an alternate timeline.

"ORIGINAL ME!" A chuckle escaped his teeth as he opened an eye socket to see the adorable version of him, Blue. Blue had always been one of his favorite alternates out of the bunch, seeing as he was basically a mix of himself and Paps. Still likes puns

(A/N so no one gets mixed up, Sans from UnderSwap canonically still likes puns. its a very popular headcanon that he doesn't. carry on.)

but is just as sweet and thoughtful as his bro. Really, he could never get mad or tired of the little blueberry. "THERE YOU ARE! I WAS LOOKING FOR YOU!"

"Is there somethin' ya need Berry?" The nickname had been out of his mouth before he could even think about what he'd said. And once he did, he could feel his skull tint with blue. Really? A nickname for a nickname? Jeez, what was with him now when he was around the little warrior?

"Actually Classic," he cocked his skull to the side, becoming more curious when his normally energetic alternate began to fiddle with his hands. "I was actually hoping you'd come with me today to check on Red and Dust. That's okay, right?"

Shit, he could feel the arrows striking his soul. First at the names "Red" and "Dust" before getting the final strike when Blue had looked up at him with those sky blue eyelights. As odd as it was, he couldn't help but enjoy the company of the edgy jackal-fennec fox. And really, he could absolutely relate to the insane grey wolf-tasmanian devil too. After all, he would definitely go insane too if he had to deal with hundreds of consecutive genocides.

Wait... Didn't he technically- NEVERMIND WE'RE NOT GOING THERE WITH THE WEIRD ALTERNATE TIMELINE LOGIC.

"Sure, I don't mind." With his signature lazy grin on his face, he began to follow Blue to the common enclosure room. This was the big room where multiple enclosures were put together. Though Ink was hesitant about the idea, Dream and Blue agreed that maybe it would help to have them all in the same room. Maybe being close to another in the same situation would make them feel more comfortable they had said.

Though some of them did enjoy each other's company, Classic thought he was right to assume Fell really didn't. While most of the others had big, terrifying animals, Fell was a mix of two animals that generally survived with their wits and willy physique.

Therefore, he really, really did not appreciate being shoved in the same room as a six-legged and two-tailed goop cat, a winged bengal tiger, and a bird clawed panther.

Now they were in the room, lit with colorful lights from the color planed windows above the enclosures. Something Ink had put up so the room wouldn't be as dull. The cracked glass of the cages were hit with more growls and roars as they walked to the quietest of the cages.

"Hey Fell."

A rumble came from the cage, and soon taps against the metal ground as the red eyed beast came out to the glass. He glanced behind us, making eye contact with Error before growling. Blue frowned, turning around in time to see Error snarl back in response as he began to try and calm the canine down.

"Sorry pal, didn't know that you weren't red-y for us yet." The canine stopped, staring back at him as he began to continue. Suddenly there was red everywhere, with a loud blare. Immediately, all of the mutants in the room except for Nightmare and Fell began to snarl and roar.

"Uhhhh... Guys?" Dream's voice came onto the intercom as the two skeletons glanced at each other. Oh boy, this couldn't be good. "Uh, I kind of went to Dust's enclosure to clean when I accidentally... Let him out?"

Ok, that was not good.

"Dusty's out of his enclosure?!" Blue jumped up, immediately running out the door.

"Wait, Blue!" Classic jumped up, starting to try and follow him before he heard a loud thud next to him. Turning, he saw Fell jumping at the glass, barking and howling at him. "Fell, what's wrong?"

He didn't stop. He just kept banging on the glass, barking and yelling. The original couldn't understand why though. Fell's never been as active as the other mutants. Like him, he tended to be lazy and just laid about in his enclosure unless provoked. But when someone came too close, he usually just pretended to threaten to bite them. Now here he was, just being nearly as loud as the others.

He didn't know what to do. Was Fell trying to warn him of something? Was he trying to tell him something important? He didn't know why he was suddenly so active, but he knew it had to be for a good reason if it was making him jump and bark like this.

"Heya pal, I want you to calm down," he tried to smoothen his voice so he didn't scare the canine, starting to move towards the enclosure controls. "I'm going to let you out. And I want you to stay calm. I'm sure the others know your mostly just bark and no bite, but I'm pretty sure they still won't feel safe knowing you're on the prowl unless you can prove you're not hostile. Okay?"

Really, he was doing his best not to talk to him while he was teaching a 5 year old. If he remembered anything about Fell before the mutation, it was that he got offended and ticked easily. Finally getting Fell to look calm, he pressed the switch that opened the glass door.

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Dust couldn't find Blue.

He couldn't find Fell or Classic either.

Who cares about that little blue mongrel and the toothy loser? His brother whispered to him. There are many caged, helpless, powerful monsters here Sans. We must find them. And we must kill them. We need more power brother. More LOVE.

He wanted to listen to his brother. He really did. He knew for a fact that Papyrus would never lie or misguide him. But he also knew that he wouldn't be able to focus on the job unless he knew where the three were. If they truly were powerful, than even if caged he'd have to focus if he wanted to be able to harvest them for LOVE.

Very well brother, I will trust your judgement.

He began to prowl around, sniffing the air to pick up a scent. He knew he needed to pick up as many scents as possible to work fast. There was much to be done: differentiate Fell, Classic, and Blue's scents from the others, locate the three as soon as possible, sneak off, kill the others, make sure Blue doesn't give him the puppy eyes or croc tears for killing most of his friends...

On second though, maybe the last one is basically inevitable.

"Dusty!"

He could feel himself basically jump up, starting to immediately run towards where he heard his blueberry's voice. Guess he didn't need to pick up on his scent in the first place. That'll make his job a little bit easier.

Don't forget to kill everyone else brother. We need to become more powerful. We need more LOVE. Do not let anyone distract you from the mission.

I know Paps. I know.

He knew at some point he was going to have to kill them too. After all, he'd killed everyone else. But he definitely didn't want to do it now. Someday, when he finds the will to give them the painless mercy of death.

But that day wasn't today.

Making a sharp turn, he'd finally found the blue scarfed skeleton. He knew he'd have to act calm though, to not scare him. Though many of them probably didn't know this, he wasn't actually as gone as Cross was.

Yes, he knew Cross's name. He picked it up from a conversation when they were trying to move him into his enclosure for the first time.

Ah yes, when that stupid oreo on legs nearly bit his blueberry.

He'll be the first to go.

(A/N i love Cross guys. i really do. i swear-)

"Dusty," he could hear the warning tone in his voice as he looked up at the skeleton before him. "I know that look on your face Dusty. No murder."

He didn't mean to let out a small whine. Probably his animal instincts. What did Sci say he was again? A "grey wolf" and "tasmanian devil"? What the hell even was a "tasmanian devil" anyway? It sounds like some sort of dog that failed to serve Satan.

"Dusty, no murder." Blue had repeated himself, beginning to pet the hooded beast's head as they both perked up to panting heard from behind Blue. Running into view were Classic, and Fell. How convenient, the three he was looking for came right to him.

Now onto "find a way to get away from the loves of his life and butcher everyone else in a totally non-yandere way".

Oh boy Alphys's anime ways are starting to get to him.

He could feel the rumbles in his non-existent throat, leaning his head more into Blue's hand. God, he knew this was just his animal instincts acting up but god his gloved hand behind his ecto ears felt GREAT. Was it like this for all dogs? Lucky bastards. He was glad he'd killed all of the dogs first. (Minus the Annoying Dog. That thing is impossible to track down. Much less kill.)

"Huh, looks like you've got him wrapped around your finger. When'd you learn to even to make him even wag his tail like that?" Wait, wagging tail? He glanced behind him to see that his ecto tail was indeed wagging. Huh. It must've started while he was thinking about dogs and didn't notice.

Brother, you're getting off task and distracted. How will you kill the others before they put you back into your cage if you keep letting yourself be treated like this? His brother did not look too pleased that he had not gained any LOVE yet. Then again, it'd been Ink knows how long since he'd been out. Much less killed anyone.

As Classic approached Blue to talk, Fell had coiled himself around the original's legs. Fell didn't feel comfortable around him and it was obvious why. After all, he knew that the hooded figure was at LEAST LV20.

Dust couldn't help but to respect the other. He survived abuse from his own brother, the monster around him, and had probably had his own fair share of Genocides too. He couldn't imagine his own brother disowning and abusing him too.

But of course brother, I'd never do anything to harm you. And Dust knew his brother was telling the truth. After all, Paps would never lie to him either.

His brother wouldn't.

He could feel his tail curl around the guard in training as the rubbing intensified, starting to lay down. After all, did he really need to kill them all now? It had already been established that he was absolutely capable of easily breaking out of his fortified cell. He could always just do it again. And if they set up guards, no problem. He'll kill them too. Extra EXP. In fact, he should probably wait until they do add more guards for him to kill.

Plus, he felt like hanging around these three a bit more.

Yet Papyrus still lingered... Whispering suggestions in his ears...

[chokememrstark]

Winterironspider - Make Me Bad

criminal!peter, criminal!bucky (winter), psychiatrist!tony, insane asylum!au, manipulation, partners in crime, winterspider

~1,5k words - [read on AO3]

Tony works as a psychiatrist at the New York Asylum, a place for criminally insane patients that are all kinds of dangerous. They are considered too dangerous for regular prison and for very good reasons. After years of working in this place, Tony knows the drill. They come, they leave, new ones come in. It’s no big deal, it never is. Until one day, things change drastically.

That day, Tony is presented with two new patients. Spider and Winter, real names Peter Parker and Bucky Barnes, but with the note to never, ever, call them either of those names. Apparently, the last time someone called Winter Bucky, the man ended with a broken arm and several broken ribs. So much for that, Tony thinks. Spider and Winter it is then.

The two have a criminal history like barely any other Tony has seen over the years, including bank robberies, kidnappings and several assassinations - Winter’s speciality - and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There are several warnings on the files when he goes through them, but Tony is confident that he will be able to handle them. He isn’t new to this, after all.

What Tony doesn’t expect when he meets Spider for the first time, is that he’s facing a literal kid. The boy is barely 17, the most innocent and sweet face one could imagine and the complete opposite of what Tony read in the files. As they start talking, Tony is more and more surprised to find out that Spider is obviously very intelligent and charming and that it’s almost a joy speaking to him. It makes no sense for such a young boy to be involved in this kind of criminal activities.

Winter, on the other hand, is far more intimidating than the boy. Older, in his late twenties, and with eyes so cold they pierce through Tony every second they are in the same room. The man barely speaks and when he does, his voice is like a shrapnel of ice, which has Tony relieved when he can finally leave again. Russian accent, but that’s all Tony can really conclude from the first meeting. He’s not looking forward to more.

Over the weeks that follow, in which Tony is assigned to examine both patients and give his professional view on them eventually, the doctor finds himself more and more intrigued with Spider than he realizes at first. The boy appears to have no bad bone in his body, which makes Tony wonder if he’s just part of this because Winter forces him somehow, but the way Spider talks about the other doesn’t sound like it at all. It’s clear that he cares for Winter and Tony can’t help but dislike the way Spider’s voice goes almost soft when he talks about him.

Soon, they drift away from the schedule Tony should be following and talk personal things, about Spider as much as about Tony himself, and the doctor feels more and more comfortable around the boy, to the point where he actually looks forward to meeting him again. It’s weird, it shouldn’t be happening, but it’s nice somehow. Tony never actually started caring for a patient before, but with Spider it comes almost natural, which should worry him much more than it does.

With Winter, things are far more difficult unfortunately. It’s almost impossible to get anything personal out of him or make him talk about his motives. The only time he will actually speak more than a sentence or two is when Tony brings the topic to Spider, who he quickly realizes the man is very protective over. It doesn’t take much to count two and two together and to understand that they are far more than just friends or partners in crime, which Tony doesn’t like at all. There’s nothing he can do about it though, so he swallows the bitter pill and stays silent.

Around a month after their arrival, Tony suddenly finds a note attached to the files on his desk one morning. A note that reads: Transfer to High Security Ward in NY State Prison on Friday. Examination results expected by Wednesday.

Tony is stunned and actually sits at his desk for five full minutes, staring at the note. They want to take Spider and Winter elsewhere, somewhere he won’t have access to them anymore. For Winter, Tony barely cares, but for Spider? No, he can’t let them take the boy away from him, it’s not going to happen. The kid is special, he won’t let him rot in prison, not if he can prevent it somehow.

That night, Tony comes back to the Asylum with a plan. He worked here for over ten years, knows the place in his sleep and as long as they are quiet, it will be possible to get Spider out of here. Tony doesn’t care that he throws away his whole life and is about to become a criminal himself by freeing Spider, he’s too focused on keeping the boy to even think about that. It took less than two weeks for Spider to completely wrap Tony around his fingers and his break in that night is proof of how much control the boy has over him, without Tony realizing it.

Spider is still awake when Tony arrives at his cell and opens it. He looks up confused, but doesn’t seem to be very surprised when he sees him.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” Tony says quietly and without questioning him, Spider hops off his bed and grabs a small backpack with his belongings. Tony doesn’t ask why his things are packed, he barely notices it.

Once Spider is out of his cell, Tony closes the door again and turns to leave, but the boy suddenly walks into the opposite direction, down the corridor. Tony almost panics and runs after him, grabbing his arm.

“What are you doing?” he hisses. “We have to leave or they’ll catch us!”

Spider is quiet and still for a moment, but when he turns his head and looks at him, Tony actually freezes in place. Those warm and gentle eyes he loves looking into so much are ice cold and dark now, Spider’s piercing glare no less intimidating and dangerous than his friend’s.

“Winter,” the boy says sharply, just that, but Tony understands. He won’t leave without the other, no matter what Tony does. In this split second, Tony realizes that he has to break both of them free in order to save Spider, or else the boy will just stay here until they are caught.

With a groan, Tony finally gives in and huffs. “Okay, I will get him, you stay here.” He carefully pushes the boy into a corner so he won’t be seen right away if anyone comes by, then steps back. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

It’s insane, it’s absolutely and completely insane, but Tony makes his way down the corridor to the very end of it, where Winter’s cell is located. Did their madness rub off on him, is that it? He’s freeing two criminals, dangerous and psychotic criminals no less, and he feels not even a shred of guilt. He has to be insane, there’s no other explanation.

When he opens Winter’s cell, Tony isn’t even surprised to see the man standing up immediately without asking why. He just cocks his head and signals the other to follow him, then leads him back to where he left Spider. The boy is still there and when he sees Winter he pushes himself off the wall and runs towards him. Tony watches with a bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth how Spider wraps his arms around Winter’s neck and kisses him, but now is not the time for this.

“We have to leave, now!” He says sharply, grabbing the boy’s backpack from the ground. “They will follow us, so we need to find a good place to hide. My car is right outside, but if we waste any more time, we’re screwed.”

“We know where to go,” Winter says surprisingly and wraps an arm around  Spider’s waist. The boy turns and gives Tony a happy, mischievous smile.

“You’ll come with us, right?” he asks, big doe eyes far too innocent for everything Tony knows about him. And yet, there are no alarms going off in his head, as Spider disabled all of them perfectly over the last weeks.

“Always,” he simply answers and leads the other two out of the building.

When they drive off, Tony is fully aware that he is now just like them, a criminal on the run and that being caught again is out of question. But there is no time for worry to creep into his mind, especially not when Spider leans over to him from the backseats and kisses his cheek. It’s not much, it’s like throwing him a bone at best, but it’s enough for Tony for the time being.

Now, two became three, but does it matter? Maybe he’s gone insane, it’s not like it would surprise Tony. And besides, he never felt this kind of thrill before than he does when he’s close to Spider. Even if it will turn out to be the worst decision of his life, he doesn’t regret it even a little bit. He’s one of them now and they will stick together til the bitter end. Come what will.

[goldeneyedgirl]

2019 Fic Meme

My end of year fic meme, compiled from some old Livejournal fic memes that I do when I write stuff. I do this for fun, because I like looking back at what I have and haven’t written, and what keeps popping up again.

It’s meant to be silly fun, and if anyone else wants to do it, PLEASE DO. I don’t want to tag anyone and put pressure on you in case you don’t want to/don’t think you have enough fic/hate memes. 

Twilight

12 Days of Fic-Mas (Twilight, WIP) Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, bonus.  Twelve days of fic extracts, previews, and drabbles focusing on Alice Cullen. Encompasses Folie A Deux, The Only Girl in the World, JessaminexAlice, Omens, Asylum, The Long Way Around, The Dark and the Unknown, Hybrid, Runaway, All These Broken Things, & The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon 

Shadow to Light  (WIP) (Alice/Jasper, AU Angst, PG) In 1918, Jasper lures the newborn known as Mary-Alice back to Monterrey. He is lost to her before it even begins.

Total number of completed stories: Lol.

Total word count: 33,304 words were posted. 

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?  Look, I just... 2019 was a wash in so many ways. I played a lot of Fortnite really badly. I would have loved to be able to say Shadow to Light was finished, or that I was posting Hybrid regularly or something, but I can’t. I wish, wish, wish I had posted more but alas. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Outside of Twilight, I dabbled with some reader/Ben in the Umbrella Academy, and I was messing around with some Janet/Wanda in my personal MCU canon. As for Twilight, I think my stuff got a lot darker? Like, we’re down the rabbit hole here, and somehow Alice ended up being the most feared vampire in the Americas? Yeah. 

And there’s the Avengers/Twilight fic that is simultaneously three fics and one fic because I cannot make Executive Decisions and I can’t decide if I like 1. Alice knowing Bucky from Before Jasper; 2. Alice knowing Hawkeye from when he was a kid in the circus and being how Natasha and Clint got out of Budapest, or 3. the Volturi hooking up with Hydra and ... yeah, I think this one is legit the most second-most one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever written. (I’ve been filing today, and boy howdy have I written some actual shit.)

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? That’s like making me pick a favourite child. I’m always so, so proud of Shadow to Light, and I love The Dark and the Unknown ‘verse, and Hybrid is just hanging out there, chilling and ugh. My babies <3 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?  TwilightFicMas was a huge risk! I wasn’t sure anyone cared unless I was posting more Shadow to Light, and people were SO nice and enthusiastic. So I guess the lesson is shut up and share more fic? Get out of your own head and spend time in the community because fandom isn’t meant to be lonely?

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?  I’m starting a graphic design business AND my masters in design in 2020, so I figure fic is going to be my downtime next year. Ideally, I would love to get STL finished, Memento Vivere’s sequel going, and have a few of my shorter pieces posted. I would really love to get some of my original stuff ready for publication, but I’d be happy studying, running my business, and doing the fic thing for 2020.  

My best story of this year: That’s up to the readers, I guess. Everyone seemed obscenely enthusiastic about The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon, though, and I was not expecting that at all - I was actually upset that I left the ‘dud’ fic for the last day of FicMas. 

My most popular story: Shadow to Light. Everyone is so nice and enthusiastic and polite about that one. I’m not used to it! Fandom for me is usually me sitting in a corner, doin’ my obscure thing, and maybe one or two people will read what I’m working on.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:  I think everyone was super enthusiastic and nice about everything I posted this year. Maybe Folie A Deux? But like, that reflects more on me and the excerpts that I chose to post rather than the fic or the audience itself. 

Most fun story to write:  The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon because that Alice is so happy; I have this playlist for it that is super upbeat and funky. 

Hybrid is fun because that Alice likes to torment Jasper. He understands Edward on a molecular level once Alice arrives. 

Most Sexy Story: The Dark and the Unknown is the front-runner for that, because most of the sexy goings-on in Shadow to Light is very much focused on the psychological and emotional aspects rather than the physical.

Story with the single sexiest moment:  The Dark and the Unknown. I am still deeply uncomfortable writing sex scenes, so this may be the only one I ever do. The implication of a blow job in Shadow to Light nearly kill me tbh.

The forest behind the school is silent; just her breathing, and the slight wind. No birds or wildlife, none of the hum of the traffic or of the school.

They don’t undress more than necessary, her skirt slid to her hips, and he takes her roughly against a tree, flakes of bark falling into the dirt. She is hot and slick, and silent as he fucks her, his fingers digging into her hips, a growl rising in his chest. She is every bit his fantasy; the smell of damp flowers, the sweetness of her flesh, her willing supplication. His fingers tear through the lace of her tights as he grips her thighs, and the heels of her shoes must be bending, she’s digging them into the backs of his legs so hard.

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:  The Long Way Around makes Jasper and Alice’s relationship pretty fucked up, and tbh I look back at it and really struggle with how dark it is and how dark Jasper’s character becomes. There’s a reason that Shadow to Light is the ‘official’ version - it’s a better balance, and I actually think Maria is a lot more interesting in Shadow to Light as a villain with complex relationships with both Jasper and Alice to the point where none of them really want to have to kill each other, but there is a lot of hate on both sides. 

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:  That’s a hard question. Shadow to Light definitely did that because I had to consider what happened when you took Alice out of the picture, and how that changed what happened, and considered the inter-family relationships. So much of canon relies on Alice’s visions that things can’t just happen the same way. 

Hardest story to write: Shadow to Light isn’t easy because I have such a specific idea of how it plays out, how it ‘looks’ in my head, and because Alice is so fundamentally different to canon. More innocent when it comes to normal interactions, and so controlled because it meant life or death - but she’s still got to be Alice in a way that people can recognize. It also has to sound right? If I can’t get the right turn of phrase for one scene, it has to be put aside until I can work it out. 

 All These Broken Things is hard because I started it back in, like, 2014ish and my writing and understanding of the characters and canon has changed so much - plus there are a few sections that came to me quite early in the writing, and now sound really out of place, but are such a strong linchpin for the story that I have to rework them in. It’s a good kind of hard, though, because I’ve improved so much, my ideas and goals are more refined. 

Most disappointing:  Omens is a little bitch, honestly. I started it for a fic contest and kept going to explore Alice’s human life, and it doesn’t quite feel like my writing? It needs reworking, and be a little less obvious because I think the ‘four horsemen of the apocalypse’ is a good theme for a Human!Alice fic. 

Easiest story to write: Depends on my mood; Hybrid is great when I’m in kind of a ‘girls kicking ass’ mood and boot up my action girls playlist.

Biggest surprise:  Hybrid started as a love story that was basically ‘yeah, let’s make this shit super dramatic and overwrought’, and turned into this actual story with a huge focus on family and relationships. I can’t remember why I decided Alice’s father had a husband except that I was thinking about small town ‘otherness’, and LGBT+ people can and are still considered ‘other’ in these spaces. 

Then you add in Alice and Cynthia who are basically in the same boat but have been separated for their entire lives. Alice has knowledge in her corner, whilst having to fight through foster care, abuse, and hospital; whilst Cynthia has lived a very normal but privileged life as the daughter of a mixed-race same-sex couple in a very small town. I went full-hog with this, and added in an extended family, because I really hated how canon went balls-to-the-wall to isolate Bella from everyone, including Charlie. 

Like, this thing is a monster, and whilst I plan to sit down and rewrite the outline (which dates back to 2016, and I hate the ending of), I stopped outlining at 65 freaking chapters. 

Most unintentionally telling story:  I think this question that still confuses me finally gets a decent answer in The Dark and the Unknown - Jasper is seeing most of it from his perspective, and there isn’t a ton of dialogue. I’ve tried to avoid an info-dump, but it’s meant to be quite supernatural in tone, and focusing on vampire senses and gifts enhances that. 

Story I’d like to revise:  All These Broken Things wins that one. Due to the age of the piece, there are some pacing and tone issues in later chapters that are the reason I haven’t formally posted it. 

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear: Oh man, I really want to finish A Thousand Years of Solitude, which is a Tanya fic. I’m really happy with what I’ve got so far, but it sounds smarter and more layered than it really is, so I’m kind of stuck. 

Mad World because Romani!Alice is super sassy and taking 0% of Swan or Cullen bullshit - I think 90% of my fic is just me going, “yeah, that’s not how normal people react.” And I’m a sucker for gothic horror. 

What else? Aww, Against A Wall which is AU Human Jasper coming from the shittiest home, and Alice finding him. It’s meant to be short, and another one I have a really clear idea of how it needs to work. 

And the one where Alice’s gift is a sentient power that pushes her to follow it; that Bad Things happen if she doesn’t; that Renesmee was always Endgame for Something, and Alice was a key piece to get that result. Or the one where Aro takes Alice as a ‘guest’ for a period because of Edward and Bella, and Alice’s gift is basically broken. 

Good times. I have like 5 years of fic on this computer, we could be here for awhile. 

[rhubarbplants]

Renegades AU where the Anarchists won the battle for Gatlon.

What did you get the girl who had everything, for her birthday? Adrian asked himself. She was her uncles second in command and could have literally anything she asked for. She wasn’t spoiled of course, and she had been through so much, she deserved so much. To top it all off she had given him practically everything he had, his apartment, his asylum from any gangs that might come knocking on the door. Adrian looked at his homemade watch, which had an awkward rift where his marker had run out of ink. He had 16 minutes to get to the café. The whole trip was a blur of passing people who didn’t matter. When he came to a stop near the cafe doors he looked around for Nova. Where was she? He thought, hands on his knees, practically wheezing. At first it seemed like she wasn’t there, then he spotted a girl in a dark blue hoodie, it wasn’t her villain uniform but it still covered her face enough so that passers by wouldn’t recognize her. She had her fair share of fans and haters, what was worse, everyone expected Adrian to be the latter. He slid into the chair next to Nova and peered under the hood.

“Is that you?” He asked.

“Hi Adrian” she said pushing her hood back ever so slightly.

“How was last night?”

“Utterly and completely boring.” Nova groaned, sinking lower onto her elbows “Its times like this where I miss being a regular Anarchist. All the board ever does is talk about politics which I suppose is their job, but they’re doing well now, they don’t need me to supervise them anymore. They are ready to take over as a government separate from the Anarchists.”

“Why don’t you ask your uncle then?” Adrian said.

“He won’t listen.” Nova said.

“Are you sure, he always seems to listen to you.”

“Not about this, and, there are tons of things he doesn’t agree with me about, like us.”

“Have you even asked him?”

“Your mom was Lady Indomitable.” Nova said “there is no way he’ll accept you.” Adrian reached his hand across the table to Nova’s and they sat there simply holding hands. Adrian knew this was something Nova appreciated, since most people avoided touching her at all costs even something as simple as hand holding made her feel loved. For Adrian it was a similar sensation to riding a roller coaster, thrilling, and imminently dangerous, but oh so safe and wonderful.

“Your birthday’s coming up isn’t it?” Adrian asked knowing full well it was.

“Yeah, my uncle gave me the day off, but I’ll probably work anyway, I need to keep busy.” Nova said with a frown “you know you don’t have to get me anything right.”

“I know.” Adrian lied. A waitress passed by their table and set down two coffees to go, Nova lifted her hood ever so slight to ask for the check. The waitress graciously accepted and turned to leave, then she froze, gasped and hurried away. Nova sighed

“Will this ever end?” She sank her head down and rested her chin on the glass table, covering her head with her hands.

“People have prejudices, if they knew you then they wouldn’t judge.”

“But they aren’t wrong, I’m an Anarchist, I have killed people.”

“Not many.”

“Yeah, and that's not exactly something to brag about, around the Anarchists.”

“After the amount of deaths you’ve witnessed, they can hardly blame you for not wanting to inflict that.”

“But they do, they don’t understand mourning, just revenge.” Said Nova still burying her face in her sleeves. The waitress returned and swiftly set the bill down on the table before scurrying off once again. Nova sighed and fished some money out of her pocket, this time being sure to keep her hood low on her face as she did so. Then the couple picked up their drinks and left. They usually only went one of two places when they were together, the park, or Adrian’s flat. Today they were headed to the park. But they didn’t go to the part of this park that everyone else did, instead they went off the trail into a secluded garden practically overgrown with all sorts of plants. English ivy, morning glory, and hydrangeas. And then there was the statue. Her hands cupped and hood pulled up just like Nova’s. Actually they looked pretty comical standing next to each other. Adrian reached for nova’s hood, pushing it off her head.

“That’s better.” He said, resting his hand on her cheek “I hardly got to see your face earlier.” Nova was smirking now.

“It was the hood or a mob of angry people trying to run us out of the cafe.” She said

“I don’t want us to be a secret anymore.” Adrian said.

“What would your friends think if they found out that you were dating an Anarchist?” Nova asked.

“I don’t care.” Adrian said

“Well you should, and what happens when my uncle finds out? he’ll kill you.”

“If he actually cares about you he won’t, I think you’re making this out to be a bigger issue than it is.”

“I know, but I can’t lose you.”

“Ok, then I’m fine for things to stay as they are, I don’t need anything more than you.”

“Thank you” Nova said squeezing Adrians other hand. They sat together enjoying each other’s company.

“How’s Max?” Nova asked, Adrian sighed, he and Max had been taken care of by the captain and the dread warden, but it had only lasted for a few months and they had never had the chance to adopt the two boys, now they were effectively both orphans, Max was kept under tight security at a hospital. While they told people it was for Max’s own safety, most everyone knew Ace Anarchy liked to have the young boy where he could keep his eyes on him.

“He’s doing fine I guess, he’s feeling guilty after the incident with Danna, but they’ve been spending some quality time together recently.”

“We should go visit him again, it’s nice having someone I can be myself around, plus I’ve gotten good at disabling the cameras. I can’t believe he figured it out, he should be a detective or something.”

“I would like that.” Adrian looked into those fantastic blue eyes, a paradoxical combination of light and shattered darkness. He planted a light kiss on her lips and she smiled. He loved these moments, when it was just them and they had nothing to hide, nothing to fear. Together they sat at the base of the statue and just enjoyed each other’s company until the sun began to set.

“I have to go” nova said as she stood up, shifting her hood back over her face,

“See you.” Adrian replied as she walked away. He turned in the other direction. His house was about a block away from the cathedral and most people thought he was insane for living there, but it wasn’t all that dangerous, and he liked being close to Nova. When he arrived oscar and Ruby were sitting on the couch, which wasn’t too stange. He had given them both keys for emergencies and now they just broke into his house to hang out.

“Hey.” Oscar said, from his perch on the armrest of the couch. Ruby had a more reasonable seating arrangement and was leaned forward completely immersed in the video game. “Where were you?” He asked “doesn’t your shift at the studio end at 2:30?”

“Yeah it does.” Adrian said blushing

“Who is it?” Ruby said jumping up from her seat, she must have a sixth sense or something.

“It’s no one, really.” Adrian said, Ruby gave him a ‘I’m not that dumb you idiot’ glare.

“Sure sure.” She said, giving oscar a sideways look.

“How about you guys start dinner, I need some space.” Adrian headed to his room, most of the furniture was stuff he had drawn or painted and so tended to be simple and sort of small but he liked it. He took his sketchbook from his bedside table and got to work, he was sketching out jewelry. A simple necklace with a gold N and a little star. Maybe a bracelet? no she already had one. Jewelry was a stupid idea anyway, she had everything, and anything she didn’t have she could easily get. His thoughts started to wander and with them the purpose of his drawings, he began to draw a place he remembered going with his mom, out in the woods, and forest. The scenery was so peaceful and different from this city. He focused in on every penciled detail, each shadow, each illumination. Then he heard a knock. He jumped up and rushed to the door, slowly and carefully he squweaked the door open and peered out. It was Nova, and she was crying. Adrian opened the door all the way and pulled Nova inside, hugging her tight.

“What happened?” Adrian asked.

“We had a mission.” She sobbed “We we’re dealing with a gang on the north eastern ward, and” she took a shaky breath “I shot, one of the gang members, not in the foot or legs, Adrian I killed him, he was barely twenty and I killed him.” She was crying into Adrian’s shirt, burying her face in his shoulder, as if forcing out the images.

“Nova don’t blame yourself, what was he doing?”

“Pointing a gun at a group of hostages.” Nova said.

“So, you saved all those people.” Adrian said.

“But there had to have been a better way to do it.” Said Nova.

“Hey, Adrian!” Ruby shouted “who is it?”

“Ummmm I should leave.” Nova said. She turned but Adrian grabbed her arm,

“just try, I promise they won’t freak out.”

“Yes they will, to them, I’m a villain,” nova said, though she let Adrian pull her back into an embrace. “What happens when they hate me?” She murmured.

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it.” Adrian said, Nova pulled away, and took his hands in hers.

“Adrian, What’s going on?” Oscar and Ruby stuck their heads into the living room. Nova turned her head towards the two and everyone froze.

“Adrian,” Ruby said cautiously “I do hope you know who that is.”

“I am aware of my girlfriend’s identity, yes.”

“Your girlfriend?” Ruby exclaimed, “you’re dating an Anarchist? And Nightmare no less, Nova Ar-ti-no!” She broke down the syllables as if she was teaching a two year old a new word.

“Yes get over it.” Said Adrian, with a glare.

“Can everyone just calm down?” Nova shouted. Everyone stared at herm once again, she looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone. “Clearly this didn’t go the way you hoped Adrian, and I can tell I’m not wanted here,” she turned to Oscar and Ruby, “But just to be clear, if either of you leak a word of this and my uncle finds out, both of you will regret it.” And she stormed out the door.

“Her uncle doesn’t already know?” Oscar asked.

“No” Adrian said, his fingers massaging his temples “and she’s scared that if he finds out that he might try to kill me.”

“When were you going to tell us you were dating the most feared villain in all of Gatlon city?” Ruby asked.

“I wanted to, but we both knew people wouldn’t react well to us.”

“Well she can’t be that bad, I mean, Adrian has good judgement.” Oscar said to Ruby.

“I do, and she is nice, if you would just give her a chance.”

They left the subject alone after that, and while the rest of the evening was awkward, Adrian was glad he didn’t have to hide as much. After dinner he headed to his room and prepared Nova’s birthday present. It was perfect.

The next day Adrian awoke at 6 am sharp, energetic and ready to start the day. He began to draw and paint and prepare anything he might need, by one in the afternoon he was ready. He and Nova had decided to meet at the bus stop, three blocks from Adrian’s flat, so Adrian packed up his stuff and got going. He must have looked a bit strange with the giant duffle bags, but he didn’t really care. When he got to the bus stop Nova was there already, no hood in sight, this was Anarchists territory, she didn’t need to hide.

“What are those for?” Nova asked, an eyebrow arched.

“I thought we could go camping for your birthday.” Adrian said meekly. Nova surprised him by giving him a big hug.

“Thank you.” She whispered “No one has ever done something like this for me.” When the bus arrived, they both got on and stayed on for more than an hour until they finally got off at the last stop. Nova had contacted her uncle giving him a vague reason for her absence. By the time they had set up camp it was about 6 pm. The sun was just starting to set, illuminating the world in a crisp golden light. They sat together warming themselves by the fire and staring up at the stars. So separate from politics, from villains, from heroes, from secrets and all of their problems. Nova closed her eyes and Adrian did too, his over Nova’s shoulder. For a few minutes they sat in peace, then Adrian realized that Nova was fidgeting jerkily, as if she was having a nightmare, a moment later her eyes snapped open and she cried out

“No!” Then everything faded to black.

When Adrian came to the first thing he realized was that it was late, the sky was black and the noise from other campsites had faded. Next he saw Nova leaning over him and smiling, a wet towel pressed to his forehead.

“Sorry about that.” She said,

“I thought the flashbacks had gotten better.” Adrian said quizzically. Nova took in a deep breath,

“So did I, but after a few moments it came back and…” she shuddered, her whole body quaking from the terrifying memory, “then I reached the part where I put the hitman to sleep, I accidentally tranquilized you.” She said sheepishly. Adrian reached a hand up to her cheek but Nova tensed up and pushed it down, by his wrist which was cover by his jacket sleeve. She couldn’t even bring herself to touch him.

“I trust you Nova.” He said slipping his hand in hers. “Always and implicitly.”

“I love you Adrian.” She said resting her forehead on his, breathing in the late night air and feeling herself relax against him. “Always and implicitly.”

[sagesparrow394]

Making a Family

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: Human, Orphanage

Summary: All Logan’s ever wanted is to meet his father and have a real family. But what if his dad isn’t all he’d dreamed him up to be? What if blood isn’t what really defines a family?

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains themes of domestic abuse and murder, as well as swearing.

Previous / Chapter 2 / Next

Later that day, Patton and Roman had been called away by Thomas as well as a few other kids, so Logan figured there was no reason to stay downstairs. He headed upstairs to his room and read for a while. He was currently reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, and found it very interesting to read about the rise and fall of Pip’s fortune.

He was just nearing the last chapter of the novel when there was a knock on his door. He slotted his bookmark in before slipping down off his bunk. When he opened his door, he found the corridor before him empty of anyone else. However, there was something else there: by his feet, a jar of his favourite jam, Crofters.

He stepped forward and picked it up, confused. When he turned around, he saw yet another jar further down the corridor, and then a third after that.

He followed the jam trail, picking up jar after jar until his arms were full, by which time he had reached the common room. He pushed open the door, confused, and stepped in.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Logan’s eyes widened. Decorations were all around the room: balloons, banners, and a few gifts on a table in the corner. All the kids in the orphanage were there as well as Thomas.

“What is all this…?” Logan asked. The birthday celebrations at the orphanage were never usually this extravagant.

“Logan, it’s not just your fifth birthday, but your fifth anniversary of living in the orphanage,” Thomas explained. “I figured that deserved a special celebration.”

Patton ran over to Logan, taking his hand, and pulled him fully into the room and over to the gift table. “Roman and I went out with Thomas to get you presents! I hope you like them!”

Logan was speechless. A special celebration just for him? Everyone attending? Two people he only properly met today getting him gifts? He almost felt like he was going to cry.

The celebrations started with Logan opening cards and presents. Thomas got him a book of Sherlock short stories, Patton got him a onesie (Logan was initially wasn’t fond of it being a unicorn, but found the softness made it worth it), and Roman got him a dress with a galaxy pattern, which must have inspired by a conversation Logan had started about space when they were playing. When some kids snickered about Logan getting a dress, Roman had stood up, glared at them, and adamantly quoted Logan, “Clothes shouldn’t be just for boys or just for girls! Kids should just wear what they want.”

Once again, Logan came close to crying.

After, it was games. Pass the parcel, pin the tail on the donkey, piñata, all the usual party games.

It was the best day of Logan’s life. He got to throw away the books, the knowledge, the maturity and just be a kid for once in his life. He had two friends, and got to pretend he had more with the rest of the children.

After the many games, it was time for the part they’d all been waiting for. Everyone was sat down, waiting for Thomas to come back. Soon, the man came in, holding a tray which had a large cake on top, decorated with blue icing, five candles, and black writing that read ‘Happy Birthday Logan!”

Thomas started singing as he entered, all the other children joining in and singing to Logan who flushed a little but did kind of love the attention.

Once the song was over and the cake was placed on the coffee table in front of him, Logan closed his eyes.

I wish to meet my dad.

He blew out the candles.

From out in the hall, there was the sound of a knock on the front door. Logan’s heart leapt. Could it be…?

Thomas got up where he was crouched with the kids and left the room, muttering about not expecting any guests. Logan listened carefully, hoping to hear a man’s voice asking for him when Thomas opened the front door.

However, the sound that followed the door opening was not a man’s voice, but a baby’s cries.

“Oh my gosh, are you two okay?! What are you doing out on your own so late?” Thomas’ voice came from the hall.

The was a reply from what sounded like a child, who spoke through sobs. “I-I didn’t know wh-where else to go…”

A few seconds later, Thomas came back into the common room. Trailing behind him was a boy about Logan, Patton and Roman’s age. He was wearing purple pyjamas and black slippers. He had black hair, dark skin, and heterochromia. His right eye was purple, and his left was green. In his arms, he held a baby, which was wrapped in a yellow blanket. The baby, like the boy, had dark skin, black hair, and heterochromia - though their eyes were brown and yellow. The baby also had vitiligo, most prominently on the left side of their face.

Thomas sat the boy down on the couch, checking over him and the baby for injuries. He didn’t see any, but could hear the baby’s tummy rumble. He turned to one of the older children. “Emile, I keep baby formula up in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. Would you mind going and making up a bottle?”

“No problem!” Emile turned and left the room, heading to the kitchen. Thomas turned back to the newcomers.

“What are your names?”

The boy sniffled before replying. “I’m Virgil… A-and this is my b-brother, Deceit…”

“Deceit?” Logan couldn’t help but inquire about the baby’s odd name.

Virgil’s eyes flickered to Logan for a moment before going back to his brother. “H-he was named after m-my mom’s nickname for m-my dad… ‘Deceitful Bastard’.”

Thomas, Logan and all the older kids looked shocked and surprised, while most of the younger kids were looking confused and curious at the new word. Virgil kept his eyes down.

“I just call him Dee for short…”

Thomas crouched in front of Virgil, looking up at him. “Virgil, can you tell me why you came here? What happened to your parents?”

Tears welled in Virgil’s eyes again, and he sniffed again before explaining. “I-I was putting Dee to bed, wh-when I started hearing yells from downstairs… Mom and Dad fight a lot, s-so I didn’t think anything of it… Until I heard a bang and a thud… Curious, I w-went downstairs… a-and into the k-kitchen…” He choked on a sob. “Mom holding a f-frying pan… and Dad o-on the g-g-ground… B-blood w-was all o-over the f-floor… I d-didn’t know wh-what to do, s-so I just grabbed Dee and r-ran…”

“Oh, Virge… I’m so sorry...” Thomas sat down next to him, rubbing the boy’s back soothingly. “I promise you’re safe now, and we’ll take care of you here. I’m Thomas, I own this place and take care of everyone here. I’ll go start getting you and Dee rooms set up. We’ll make you feel at home here, I promise.” He gave Virgil a small hug, before getting up and leaving the room.

Virgil kept his eyes down on his brother, rocking Dee gently to calm him down. Emile came back in, a baby bottle in hand, and sat beside Virgil. He held the bottle out to him, giving a kind smile. Virgil finally looked up. He muttered a thank you before taking the bottle and raising it to Dee’s lips. The baby immediately fell quiet, drinking the milk.

“Th-there was a birthday party g-going on, wasn’t there…” Virgil spoke up. “I’m sorry, f-for ruining it…”

“Don’t be,” Logan replied. “You shouldn’t be apologising for seeking asylum and safety.” He pulled the candles from his birthday cake, before picking up the knife beside it and cutting a slice. He placed it on a plate with a fork, before holding out to Virgil.

Virgil blinked in surprise, looking between Logan and the cake slice. His eyes went down to Dee, silently communicating that he can’t take the slice while he’s holding his brother. Patton saw this and came over, plopping down next to Virgil.

“I can hold him while you eat if you want,” he offered, holding out his arms. Virgil was uncertain at first, but after looking over Patton, he moved Dee into the other’s arms. Patton smiled down at the baby. “He’s adorable…”

Virgil smiled a little as he took the cake slice from Logan. Roman sat on the couch next to Patton, peering over his shoulder at Dee. “What’s with his face?”

Virgil’s face fell, about to glare at Roman, when Logan spoke up.

“It’s called vitiligo. It’s a skin condition characterized by patches of the skin losing their pigment. The patches of skin affected become white.”

Virgil looked back to Logan, surprised. “You know about vitiligo…? I’ve never met anyone my age who does…”

Logan shrugged. “I read a lot. My name’s Logan, by the way.”

“I’m Patton!”

“And I’m Roman.”

Virgil’s smile returned. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

At that moment, Dee pulled away from his bottle, starting to cry again. Virgil put his cake to the side and took Dee from Patton’s arms, lifting him onto his shoulder. He gently patted Dee’s back until the baby burped and relaxed, no longer crying.

“You’re really good with children,” Patton commented, shuffling closer to Virgil, who shrugged.

“Mom went out a lot and Dad had work. I had to learn to look after him.”

Logan couldn’t help but draw the connection to how he had to learn to look after himself.

Thomas came back in then. “Lucky we had a crib up in the attic Dee can use. I also put in an order for anything he’d need. Changing table, plush toys, rocking chair to use to rock him to sleep. The only problem is, the room I’ve moved him in is the smallest one.”

“Mine’s the smallest one!” Roman spoke up.

“That’s what I was going to say. Since all the stuff for Dee is going to take up all the room, I moved your bed to the biggest room. Virgil will take the other bunk on your bed, and you both will share a room with Logan and Patton.”

Patton let out a cheer. “We’re all roomies!” He wrapped his arms around his three new friends, causing Virgil to have to adjust his hold on Dee. It also made Logan freeze up. He wasn’t used to hugs and physical contact.

It was actually pretty nice.

Taglist:@justcallmepancake, @the-doctor-demigod-wizard, @absolutesandersidestrash, @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0, @lilygold23, @analogicallythinking, @bunny222 

[nightfoliage]

Fic - Double the Fun, But Trouble to Come

Series: Gravity Falls

Pairing: Stancest (Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines)

Tags: Stancest, Stancest Secret Santa Exchange 2018, Stancest Discord Server, Incest, Twincest, established relationship, amnesia, memory issues, memory loss (temporary), paranoia, copies of Stan and Ford, copier, Gravity Falls forest, anomalies, BikerStan (additional tags will be added to subsequent chapters)

Prompts:

Stan doesn't regain his memories but he ends up in a relationship with Ford anyway

Biker Stan

Stancest foursome with their copier clones

Old Stans after-sex fluff

Both Stans fall into the portal AU

Rick and Morty crossover of any kind

Summary: Stan looks up in the mirror one day and finds himself not knowing where he is or what’s going on. He instinctively bolts, but not before meeting his look-alike (what the fuck), who apparently knows what’s going on, and follows him for the ride. They hide out in the woods until Stan can calm down and figure out what’s happening.

All he knows is that the forest is weird and his look-alike is being awfully nice.

Author’s Note: So, per what I think is becoming my MO, I used all the prompts in this fic. As a result, some of the prompts aren’t quite precisely what was requested, but I hope this fic satisfies. Also I added a few more elements to it after I gifted it. (Some pretty big changes actually, what was once about ~6750 words turned into what it is now.)

Chapter 1 of 8 Summary: Stan and Ford make plans, but their plans are derailed by Stan losing his memories.

Word Count: ~3.1k

Read here or on Ao3:

-000-

Stan finds himself standing in front of a sink, water rushing out of the tap. The water is warm and he has suds on his hands. He finds himself automatically rinsing them off, his hands knowing what to do even though his brain doesn’t know what it wants yet. Then he splashes some water on his face, which gets onto his glasses.

“Ugh.” He wipes his glasses with his hands and face still wet.

It feels like the start of a bad day.

When his glasses, face, and hands are finally dry, he takes a look at himself in the mirror. He looks good. The thought comes out of nowhere, but it’s there and it fills him with warmth. Sure he has some wrinkles and his hair’s thinning, but he’s not doing too badly. Way better than in the past when he was thin and gaunt and-

Stan finds himself leaning over the sink, grabbing a hold of the bowl before he can fall over.

His body wants to slide sideways, but he manages to hold on. However, his mind is already falling. There’s a massive abyss where his memories should be and he’s disorientated at the fact that there is absolutely nothing there. He knows he’s Stan, knows that he’s here and safe-

But then where is here?

He takes a look around: normal residential bathroom (not a prison, not an asylum, that was good), small, maybe on the older side, small window on the wall. Outside; it’s dark, but he can see that he’s in the middle of the woods, second floor. He’s far too high to make the jump down, not with these old bones. (He may have to anyway.)

It looks like he locked the door. Good, good, he can collect himself before leaving. He immediately swipes a bar of soap, a roll of toilet paper, and whatever little odds and ends into his pockets. Speaking of pockets…

There’s nothing in them except- ah ha! He pulls out his wallet. Nothing unusual and a good amount of money.

But then he pulls a crinkled up photo. Is this his family? He can’t- he doesn’t remember- he runs a finger across each of their faces. A young woman with fiery red hair, a young portly man with a big grin, two kids- twins, a boy and a girl. He doesn’t know why the detail of them being twins is important, it just is.

But then he sees the final person, a man with the same face as his.

He’s a twin, too.

Stan searches the man’s face. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for only that he’s looking for something. They look very similar with some negligible differences and his arm is slinged over his twin’s shoulder. Stan carefully places the photo back into its home.

Then he checks the wallet for hidden compartments and finds some extra cash as well as a fake ID. Good. It’s enough. All he has to do is leave until he gets his bearings and his memories again.

Simple.

He opens the door and finds himself in a hallway. Slipping into a closed bedroom, he looks for a few things to swipe, but then the door opens.

“Hey-“

The other man pauses once he sees him. Maybe it’s the wild look in Stan’s eyes (he’s caught before he can even get going), but the man immediately puts his hands up in a placating gesture.

“You okay?” The stranger asks slowly.

Stan stares at the man. Gray hair, in his sixty, glasses, same height, about the same weight, and Stan realizes this might not be a stranger. This man is probably his twin.

“I’m fine- Ford.”

The name rolls off his tongue before he questions it. Right. He’s Stan and his twin brother is Ford.

His brother coughs, “Stanley, is everything all right?”

The voice and words are familiar. His chest feels warm looking at him, but his mind tells him not to trust someone who’s essentially a stranger.

“No,” Stan says with a shake of head. Because things aren’t alright. Somehow, he can admit that to this person.

“Alright,” Ford says. Then Ford goes to the closet to pull out a jacket, a scarf, some gloves, socks, a pair of boots, and throws them at him.

“What’s all this for?” Stan asks.

“You need some fresh air, right? Then let’s get some fresh air. I’ll follow your lead,” Ford says.

He starts pulling on a his own set of clothes. The ease in which Ford says the words loosens something in Stan’s chest. But he can’t trust this guy, not yet. However, he can take advantage of him.He can use him. He needs to gather more information and then reassess and this guy was his ticket to doing that.

Stan gets dressed quickly, as does Ford. After he’s done, he’s handed a flashlight, which Stan stashes in his pocket.

Somehow, Stan ends up taking lead. His muscle memory must still be active, because he knows the route out of the place. His body steps around creaky floorboards and he ducks into the shadows. He can’t help checking and rechecking his surroundings and tracking the exits. Then they make their way outside. They must be in the middle of nowhere because it’s incredibly dark. The only light comes from the cabin they left.

He’s tempted to go towards civilization, the nearest town maybe, but he doesn’t know his reputation here. One misstep is all it takes for things to go to hell.

Into the woods it is.

Stan doesn’t wait for his shadow to follow. Instead he lets his gut lead.

So he doesn’t notice that the guy following him has palmed a cell phone and has started messaging someone else…

-000-

“Hm…”

Ford considers the diagram on the blackboard. The position looks difficult but the mechanics are sound. However, he’s not sure if it’s possible for an extended period of time.

“Going with the simplest of positions may be best,” he finally says. “Unless you’re capable of being the one on top?”

“Actually, I should be able to take position one,” his copy replies. “Although it looks and feels like I have a working anatomy, I don’t actually have a back to throw out. It’s quite doable.”

“Oh, well, then that solves everything. But just in case, let’s save it for last. I’m confident in my own flexibility, but I wonder about Stanley’s.”

“Agreed.”

Ford is about to draw another complicated sex position (something he’s only seen because he stumbled upon a very informative universe), when his cell phone buzzes.

“Hold on, that’s Stan,” he says and goes to retrieve his phone. Perhaps his brother and his copy are ready for Ford and his copy? It’s a little early and Ford has a few other sex positions he wants to consider before the act, but he can’t say he isn’t excited. He’s been wanting to include the supernatural into their coitus routine for quite awhile, but Stan and circumstance haven’t been very forthcoming.

Even now, it’s only coincidence that they have the Mystery Shack to themselves. A surprise visit to the Shack and with Soos, Melody, and Abuelita on a trip to see Melody’s family.

When Ford found out they would be gone, he immediately tried to convince Stan to do something special. Most of his suggestions had been tossed out (it would take too much time, it wasn’t anatomically possible, ‘no, Ford, I’m not interested in the Hand-Witch that way’), but they had finally compromised.

The scrape of chalk against the blackboard derails Ford from his thoughts. Instead of reading the message his eyes go back to his copy. He can’t help but eye himself from behind. It’s one thing to see himself in the mirror, it’s another to see an exact copy of himself. His copy is dressed lightly in a yellow turtleneck and sweatpants. Ford runs his eyes over the copies shoulders and his bare feet.

It’s a good look. No wonder Stan sometimes can’t help but be a little more handsy when he’s dressed more casually. Perhaps he can have his copy model a few other looks for him so he can figure out what looks best and use that data on Stan-

His phone vibrates again.

Right, of course, that’s why he stepped away from the chalkboard.

“How odd,” he says aloud when he sees the message. “Stan sent us his location? And he’s in the middle of the woods…”

Ford checks the location again. His GPS does not lie when it says that the cell phone is not located in the Mystery Shack, but outside and getting further.

He pulls up the most recent messages.

“Ford.”

His copy lifts his head from the blackboard to look at him.

“Stan’s having a memory relapse and ran away from the Mystery Shack.”

The copy’s face grows steadily more horrified with each word. He quickly hurries over to look at the phone. Confirming it for himself, the copy says, “Then we have to go find him.”

Ford nods. “Luckily, Stan’s copy is with him. The location that we’re receiving should be accurate.”

“Good.”

And with that they throw on some clothes and rush out the door.

They don’t have any transportation to make it through the woods, so they have to go on foot. The sun is setting and the air is growing colder. Suddenly the forest that they’ve lived in seems vast and unwelcoming.

However, there’s no time for second thoughts or doubts, they need to reach Stan. This isn’t the first time his brother has had memory problems. A turn of a phrase or a sound can have his brother going back in time, or even forgetting who he is. They’ve been lucky enough in the past that each incident had occurred on the Stan O’ War. As long as Ford kept calm and didn’t cause a panic, Stan always regained his memories. The only other time in which they were not on the boat, Stan stole the boat (with Ford on it) to make a get-away.

And now he’s in the forest of Gravity Falls?

Who knows what sort of trouble Stan could get into.

-000-

“Haha! Who’s next?”

The manotaurs cheer Stan on, as his opponent slinks away in shame. No one steps up to the table, already catching on that betting against Stan was a bad idea. However, it would be easy enough to goad some of them into another game. All Stan has to do is poke at their masculinity-

The sound of an alarm goes off in the cave.

All the manotaurs start to hoot at once.

“Time to take on the Pain Hole!”

They gather towards the clearly marked hole and started to stick their appendages in. Clearly, they were competing to see who could stay the longest, even if it meant they were yelling in pain the whole time.

“Yeesh,” Stan says. “And you guys do this for fun?”

“Of course!” One of the manotaurs says, beating a fist against his chest. “It’s a good way to show WHO’S THE MAN-OTAUR!!!”

He ended the last part in a roar which started another round of hooting.

Stan sent a look towards Ford, who nodded back. They discreetly made their way out of the cave. When they were a good distance away, Stan pulled his winnings out of his pockets. Mostly it was odds and ends, interesting stones or bottle caps, but they were Stan’s so of course he was going to take them. Maybe he could display them at home-

He got a thought of someplace warm, with soft lighting. The smell of salt and something sweet in the air. When he chased the memory it faded away. Stan tries not to get frustrated, but it was getting difficult with each passing moment without his memories. It’s happened several times already; he’ll get a sensation of something remembered, but each time he tries to remember whatever it is he forgot, the memory slips away.

At least he wasn’t going through this alone. Ford was following his lead, giving him the space he needed to process things. He would probably ask for help soon, after he had a little more time to think.

Yup, that was exactly what he was going to do. He wasn’t worried about what he forgot at all. (Except that Stan had seen odd scars on his body. They suggested that he led a-not-so-good life. And the way he ran away from a warm and safe place to go into the middle of the woods wasn’t reassuring.)

Anyways, there was plenty to do right now. The forest was weird, sure, but it was exactly the distraction he needed.

“Come on, what else is around here?” Stan asks Ford.

Ford makes a soft ‘hm’ noise, while tapping his chin. “I do believe that the gnomes are around here?”

“Gnomes? Like those garden things, with the hats?”

Ford nods.

“Okay, yeah, this I gotta see.”

-000-

“Why are they heading towards the gnomes?” CopyFord asks.

Ford doesn’t know and he’s not inclined to answer. Not that it’s an issue, he’s sure his copy asked more out of frustration than curiosity. They’ve been following a bizarre trail through the forest trying to find the Stans. The Stans have taken an odd meandering route, meeting up with the supernatural at every turn. They’ve just missed them at the manotaurs (almost walking in on the Pain Hole ritual) and now they’re going to see the gnomes?

“Well, maybe if we’re lucky they’ll be captured by the gnomes and we can go rescue them,” Ford says. At least that would keep them in one place.

His copy snorts. “If only.”

But even before they approach the gnomes, they start to hear sirens and yelling. The Fords share a look. They break into a run. Perhaps they would have to stage a rescue.

It’s pandemonium in the area, creatures running away, while smoke is starting to come through the trees. Luckily there doesn’t seem to be a fire, but there’s very little else that could cause such a panic. They’re about to burst out of the trees when they see very familiar flashing red and blue lights. Gnomes wearing police uniforms crawled all over what was surely a crime scene.

“Only Stanley could attract the attention of so much law enforcement without his memories,” his copy muttered. “Anomalous law enforcement, even.”

“Agreed,” Ford says, dryly.

They consult the GPS and it looks like the Stans are not in the middle of the mess, but are making a get-away. Sneaking away, Ford wonders what could they have done to cause such mayhem.

-000-

“Wow, she is a beauty,” Stan says. “Why did they have her?”

“Mmhmm, she is. Gnomes get their hands in everything,” CopyStan explains. And while he’s seen the gnomes steal everything they can get their hands on, he is puzzled on how they managed to take such a beautiful motorcycle. It even looks like it’s been modified to go off-road. He’s a little worried that Stan will want to take her for a ride. If he wasn’t babysitting, then he would want to do the same.

The cellphone in his pocket buzzes.

While there are quite a few people with this number, there’s very few people who would be messaging him in the middle of the night. He doesn’t pull the phone out right away, instead waiting until Stan is admiring the bike, before looking around. He immediately spots the Fords in some bushes.

“I’ll go do a perimeter check, Stanley,” he calls out. He holds back the urge to cough. Doing Ford’s voice for so long is horrible and he’ll be happy to go back to his own voice when this is over.

Stan grunts an affirmative and he goes over to the Fords.

“Who’s the copy?” He hisses.

The one not-holding the cellphone points at himself.

“Okay,” he says, then quickly tosses the other man’s phone to CopyFord. The actual Ford lets out a small ‘hey’ before he’s distracted by the Stan that’s stripping in front of him.

“Quick, switch clothes with me,” Stan says.

Ford catches on, and they switch jackets. As soon as he’s changed, Ford is shoved out of the bush with his phone again. Ford quickly hides it when he attracts Stan’s attention.

“That was a quick perimeter check,” Stan says.

Ford coughs, “Well, I suspect everyone is distracted by the ruckus you- we caused.”

“Damn straight they are,” Stan readily agrees, not noticing the slip. He’s too distracted by the bike. Ford shouldn’t be jealous, but between losing Stan and the abrupt change in their plans, he thinks he’s justified.

His brother straddles the bike and revs it. Figures he would steal the keys too. Ford eyes him and tries to be irritated, but instead he’s intrigued. His brother is handling the motorcycle like an expert and the image he’s presenting is quite pleasing.

“Get on,” Stan yells back to him, shooting a look over his shoulder. He’s grinning, without a care in the world. It stirs something inside of Ford. Really he should refuse and have Stanley come back to the Mystery Shack so he can recover.

“This is highly unorthodox,” Ford protests, but he’s moving towards the bike.

“Is this motorcycle even designed to ride the woods?” Ford continues even though he’s getting behind Stan.

“Our best course of action should be to head back to the Shack, I insist Stanley,” Ford declares, even though he’s sitting on the motorcycle his arms wrapped loosely around Stan’s middle.

Stan looks back at him with a smile.

“What?” Ford snaps.

“This is the first time time you’ve complained about anything all night,” he says.

“Complain-”

“Whined, if you prefer.”

“Whined! Why of all the-”

“I like it,” Stan says with such fondness in his voice that it stops Ford’s sputtering. Before Ford can gather himself and retort, Stan revs the motorcycle and takes off. Ford automatically wraps his arms tightly around Stan. They speed off into the forest.

A moment later, the copies step out of the bushes.

“Did they-”

“Yes. I believe they left us here.”

Stan and Ford share a look. They have the originals location so they could track them if they wanted to, but they were on foot while the other two were on a motorcycle.

“Did you go want to taunt the Hand-Witch?” Stan suggests.

“Won’t she try to curse us?” Ford asks.

“Yeah, but she could also curse the originals too, not us.”

Ford chuckles and so does Stan. “Sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to explore the forest more with you.”

“Yeah, me too. It just wasn’t the same without you.”