#but he will do everything in his power to make sure Flinch gets outta there. he's gonna call in some favors & do a heist

[tachyon-omlette]

WAAAAAAAAAAAGH THEM!!!! /POS

You admire me?

Usually I know what to write here, but for some reason, I can't find the right words.

Oh well, might as well keep this short and simple:

It's a small story featuring @tachyon-omlette's TFA Eda and my TFA Flinch. The setting is during Season Two, when things get rather rough for the main cast and our poor boy Flinch here.

At least he has a good friend who's there for him.

First story about Eda and Flinch I post, despite having othere ones too. But I still have to work on the Armada stories before I post them.

Flinch could still remember the first time he woke up on earth. It was right after the pod his parents put him in crash landed near a military site. Luckily, he got out before anyone human could find him and quickly scanned a nearby Black Bird jet before passing out again.

The next time he woke up, Flinch found himself in the hangar of a museum. Surrounded by other plains that weren’t like him. At least, he was sure they weren’t like him because every time he tried to reach out, there was no answer. And so, the young Cybertronian simply stayed put. Watching the humans walk around the museum, observing how they would interact with each other, and he wanted that too. It was lonely being nothing more than a museum piece. He had no friends, no-one he knows, and his parents were far away.

Flinch was alone, and so, he created a holo-form. Using the references he took of the visiting humans and those he found in the thing called ‘Internet’.

And it worked. He was able to create a real looking human avatar, and at first, he used it only at night when no-one was around. It felt weird, yes, but with more practice, it became like a second body. A body that allowed him to interact with humans during the daytime. He could talk with the personal of the museum, he could talk with the visitors, and he even found a friend in the cafeteria lady who was the first human Flinch ever told who he really was. And instead of alerting the security or even the military, she took him in and showed him what it meant to be human.

Misses Goodwill was a nice woman. Flinch was still unsure how she pulled it off, but after finding out about him and his story, he suddenly had a job at the museum. More specifically, as one of the tour guides walking around the place. She even helped him with figuring out how to do certain things like opening a bank account or doing his taxes. The best thing she helped him with though was getting a citizenship. Although, Flinch isn’t really sure how he should feel about that, because the way she did it was kind of dubious, but who was he to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

Thinking of Misses Goodwill caused Flinch to let out a sad sigh as he watched Mister Powell’s scientist scurry around his frame from his look out. He didn’t like how he had to stay in this stingy warehouse like a caged animal, but what else could he do? Mister Powell, after kicking out poor Sari, took over Mister Sumdac’s company. And that meant that he also had the contract between Mister Sumdac and his museum. Although, Flinch could care less about the contract. It was written when the museum’s boss didn’t know about him being a Cybertronian, so, he could have walked out at any time.

He could have, but Flinch didn’t. Mister Powell, after Flinch voiced his lack of care of the contract, threatened to contact the needed authorities about Sari’s predicament and the Cybertronian knew what that meant.

Of course, it could have been all a bluff. Mister Powell wouldn’t try anything like that, not when Mister Sumdac could still return and Sari had friends among the Autobots, but still. Flinch cared too much for the little girl to put her through even more trouble. So, he simply took whatever Mister Powell, Mister Masterson, and the traitor he called his co-worker put him through. No matter how painful it was or how tired it made him. Feeling like an experiment was better than putting one of his only friends through even more pain. Even if it felt like he was slowly taken apart from the inside out or like his mind was being ripped in two and burned. Knowing Sari was safe from whatever Powell could do made it worth it.

His suffering was worth it, right?

“Eda would probably say ‘No’.” Muttered Flinch quietly as he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to fight the shudder running through not only this avatar, but also his real body staying underneath the roof he was resting on. “They’re only getting bolder… I wonder if they know that they’re tearing open a Cybertronian and not just examining a strange jet.”

“I do not doubt that they know.” Said someone Flinch only knew all too well. And as the young ‘man’ turned his head to face his friend, he couldn’t help the sad chuckle coming from him. “I think you’re right Eda. Powell probably told them who they’re taking apart… or they managed to figure it out themselves. There’s only one light green Black Bird in Detroit.” Said Flinch, before scooting over to give Eda some space to sit down. “How are you doing Eda? I… haven’t seen you since that ‘debacle’ with my war-frame-protocol-thing last week.”

Eda nodded as he sat down on the blanket Flinch had placed down on the roof. There was no need for it, not when these forms of theirs were only avatars, but still. It felt nicer sitting on a blanket than the hard roof. “I am doing well Flinch, how about you?” Asked Eda, eyes fixated on the squirming ‘young man’ next to him.

“I… Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I don’t feel well Eda. Scratch that, I feel like shit.” Flinch clenched his teeth as another shudder ran through his body. “I’m not allowed to leave the warehouse; I’m not allowed to even transform into root-mode since they messed up and caused my war-frame-program to activate. I’m constantly poked, prodded and… and…” There was a pause, before Flinch continued. His voice nothing more than a whisper as he looked over at Eda. Eyes wide in fear and body shaking as if the words alone would doom him to a fate worse than death. “They’re going to put me into stasis, Eda, or something like it. They’re… they’re going to ‘shut down’ my mind. They’re basically going to put me into a coma, while they have full control of my body. They’re… They’re…”

“Eda… what if they use me to do bad things? What if they break something? What if… what if Mister Sumdac comes back and… and he wakes me up and I’m not me anymore?” With each word, Flinch grew more frantic. Looking around the roof as if fearing that someone would come up any moment and drag him back into the warehouse or force him to make his holo-form disappear.

Flinch didn’t want to be forced back. They already took his movement, locked him into his alt-mode and forbit him from using his holo-form to walk around the city. Flinch couldn’t even visit Sari to see how she was doing; he didn’t want to lose the freedom this roof provided. Nor did he want to leave Eda.

No, Eda was the only thing that made him feel safe now. He didn’t want to lose that. And so, Flinch scooted closer to his white-haired friend. Silently asking if it was okay to hug him, and when he got the okay, Flinch was quick to wrap his arms around hims. Hiding his face in Eda’s shoulder, while his body shook like a tree during a storm.

And Eda found himself at a loss. How was he supposed to comfort someone who’s as scared as Flinch? How was he supposed to fix this mess, he had no idea. Was there even something he could do? Well, maybe there was. Eda could try to ‘kidnap’ Flinch. Take him away from this place and hide him somewhere, where he’ll be safe while Team Prime searched for Mister Sumdac. But how was he supposed to do that? Eda would need to come up with a plan, and then, he would need a place big enough to hide Flinch.

He would definitely need help, but for now, all he could do was help Flinch calm down. And so, Eda wrapped one arm around his still shaking friend, while placing the other one on top the light brown tuft of hair. Awkwardly patting it and causing Flinch to let out a soft, although still sad, chuckle.

“You’re really bad at this Eda.”

“At least I am trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Yea… Just one more thing to admire about you.” Flinch said without even thinking, but the silence following it caused him to look up at his friend. Face depicting nothing more than pure confusion, as he tried to figure out why Eda was staring at him as if he just grew a second head. Can holo-forms even have a second head?

“Eda?”

“You… admire me?"

“Y-yea?” Eda’s confusion was confusing Flinch. Did he say something bad? Weird? Why was Eda looking so strangely at him? “I mean, there isn’t anything I can’t admire about you. You’re kind, funny, you’re nice to me when you have no reason to, you came whenever I needed you. Honestly, it’s like you’re my guardian angel, you know? And… you don’t look at me as if I were a… a monster. Team Prime took one look and attacked me.” Flinch couldn’t help the chuckle as he remembered that peculiar memory. “Okay, yea, I kind of did kidnap Sari, but still. I’m sure that they would have attacked either way. Same goes for that chin-for-brains Sentinel, that hammer-brain Magnus, the twins, and Jazz. I don’t know if the Decepticons would have done the same, but I don’t think looking up to them would be good.” Flinch shook his head, no, looking up to them would definitely be bad. Alone for the fact that they have tried to destroy Detroit a few times.

“Yea… Yea! I look up to you Eda, more than you might know, because I want to be just like you when I’m older!” Flinch was beaming brighter than the sun when he finished speaking, and Eda found himself confronted with the undeniable fact that Flinch was speaking the truth.

This young, innocent, Cybertronian was looking up to him. Him who was nothing more than a monster, an engine of destruction meant to destroy every single good thing in this universe. And yet, one of those good things he was meant to destroy saw him as good enough to be admired. To be someone to look up to and aspire to be like. Someone he compared to a guardian angel, a pure force of goodness and protection. And not the destructive arm of the opposite.

And Eda didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand it made him happy to be seen as more than a weapon of mass destruction. To be seen as someone who protects instead of destroying, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the self-doubt slowly creeping into the forefront of his mind to taint the happiness and twist it into sadness.

But when Eda was trying to answer, say that Flinch must be mistaken, that it was wrong to look up to someone like him, all that came out were sobs. Quiet ones at first, but the deeper the realization sank, the louder they became. Until he was wheeping openly in front of Flinch, despite it being weird that he used his disguise to do so. But to Unicron and beyond with weirdness. This day has been nothing more than an emotional roller coaster. Fuck it, his entire existence has been one hell of a roller coaster, Eda deserves to let it all out ever now and then.

And so, he hugged Flinch tighter. Ignored the confused questions coming from him, while letting bottled up and forgotten emotions run freely, and when he was done, he let go. Grabbing Flinch’s face to turn his face to face him. Glowing green eyes meeting confused pale green ones.

“Flinch, I’m going to get you out.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m going to get you out. I don’t know how, but I will.” Eda might not believe Flinch, no, he couldn’t believe Flinch. Not with the things he’s done, the things he’s been through, but there was a part of him that wanted to believe. It was small, but it was there none the less.

“That’s a promise.”

[dbzebra]

For the random writing prompts, 9 with Trunks and Goten (platonic) ❤️

I don’t know how put in a read more on mobile, but this isn’t very long!!

Tbh this random idea came to me outta nowhere, so this was really fun to play with. I doubt I’ll do anything else with it but I’ll keep this in my back pocket lol. This was really fun

9. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.

Nobody saw it coming when East City was destroyed in the blink of an eye. Then South City. Followed by North City. And then, West City too was eradicated without a trace.

Goku and Goten had attempted to save as many people as possible with Instant Transmission, but the carnage had spread too quickly. They weren’t quick enough.

Trunks cursed his own shit luck. He was holding up in a safe house far from civilization, with a bunch of survivors Goten had rescued.

“You moron…”

Goten laid unconscious, his brilliant orange gi tattered and stained with blood. He had jumped in front of a blast meant for Trunks. Even at a fully powered Super Saiyan 3, Son Goten couldn’t intercept the blast in time and got caught in the full force of the explosion.

Trunks felt it was a miracle that he had survived. And even more of a miracle that the damned enemy didn’t bother to check if he had finished the job before moving on with his rampage, going off on some tangent about eliminating all trouble throughout the timelines so their plans could continue unbothered

“Timelines my ass.” Trunks spat.

Twenty years of peace after Majin Buu had been snapped just like that. The unknown force took out anything and everything in its path.

Trunks periodically focused to see if he could still sense the rest of Earth’s Special Forces, if they were still alive. From what he could tell, he could sense a handful of them gathered together. But not sure who’s who.

Some were probably hiding their ki, like he was.

Others…. He looked to Goten. He hoped the others didnt end up like that. Or worse.

Hours went by. Goten hadn’t moved. The supplies weren’t enough to tend to his wounds. And there was no sign of the explosions from outside ending anytime soon.

“For fucks sake, Goten, you need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Nothing. Trunks slammed the ground so hard it caused a small crater. He tried using his energy as a ki defibrillator, but even that only went so far.

“You’re the strongest in the universe! You can’t be beaten by some bitch who attacks by surprise!! Wake. UP.” Trunks shouted to his friends unconscious body. “You have a wife and two little girls at home, right!? Don’t let them down!

Goten stirred at that. “God, you’re loud.”

“Welcome back. Knew Marron and the girls was the only thing keeping you going.”

He sat up, flinching. “Motherfucker got me good. Who the hell was that?”

“Hell if I know. But now it’s time for payback. That thing will wish he never came here.”

“What do you have in mind? I could use my ultimate attack but I dunno if that would’ve been enough.”

“Something even better than that. Our trump card.” Trunks helped Goten slowly stand.

Goten winced in pain and his legs almost gave out on him, but was saved by Trunks.

“Guess we’ll be needing this.” He reached into his gi and pulled out the last Senzu Bean. He split it in half and gave the other half to Trunks.

“You had a senzu this whole time?” Trunks was more annoyed than anything else.”

“You’re the one who didn’t bother to check. But whatever. We haven’t done that pose in a long time. You sure you remember how?”

“Of course I do. While you’ve been slacking off playing with your girls, I’ve been training.”

“Yeah yeah, sure you were. Get ready, we’re making the jump instantly.”

“Right.”

A fully healed Goten and Trunks stood a few paces apart, facing forward. They were mirror images of each other.

“FUUUUSION——HAAAA!”

[hikarimiyanaga]

Request : Hi, I love and enjoy reading what you write thus I want to pose a request that the Dimitrescu Family with a powerful blood magic S/O who can control people's blood (u know, similar to Skarlet from MK)

Blood Magic, it's one of the powers that I want to experiment with, in terms of writing.

Also, the knowledge/information I have about this is because of Avatar (I haven't played Mortal Kombat in a long time, forgive my broke self.)

I also accidentally deleted the request so it's like this.

I'm really sorry. I hope you enjoy it!

Alcina Dimitrescu / Lady Dimitrescu

As a magician, you were pretty powerful, as a Mage of Blood Magik, though, you were undefeatable.

When you came into the village, the weird parasites in almost everyone's body bothered the fuck outta you. Because why the fuck??

It was just sitting there and eating there soul?? You knew the consequences on messing around with Parasites like those so you wanted to leave immediately but you stopped when you saw Alcina.

This very tall lady who towers over you just stopped the world but then you just realized that you were actually the only one who stopped moving. You quickly turned away but felt it. You turn to her again and see the parasite. It was so deep within her.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath but then you feel it. Not connected to blood but the energy and mana itself.

"Fucking hell." You use your magic to peek into the Megamycete and grimace.

"Fucking shit." As if third time's the charm, Alcina hears your cursing and looks at you. You clenched your fist and was just glaring on the ground?? What a weirdo.

"Mother, is something wrong?" Bela asks, as she was the one who accompanied Alcina for her little stroll around the village.

"No. Just that woman." You feel eyes on you so you look up to see Alcina staring at you. You huff then turn away.

Being a magician, you aren't actually a people person, you've always hated it when people knew what you were.

Your foes were the only ones who ever actually knew that you practiced Blood Magik... not that they lived to actually tell anyone else.

You try to leave, you really did but all those people. That giant woman, all of it just-

"Leaves a bad taste in my mouth, nothing else." You turn back, trying to excuse your good nature.

You spend days trying different scrying spells, revelation spells and cure spells to see if any would work on the Megamycete and who the fuck is actually using it.

"That fucking bitch." Not only have you seen Alcina's, the villager's and the other lord's memories but Mother Miranda herself. "She wants a daughter? All this for a fucking hell-spawn?" You never did like children yourself, they were too innocent, too goddamn corruptible and too gullible.

You sigh and make your decision. She wants a daughter? You'll give her a daughter. You put on your mask and get your potions.

You'll cure this village of those fucking parasites and diseases or you'll die trying. Most probably cure them.

It took literally a whole day just to get the goddamn parasites of the villagers and Karl, who was the only one of the four lords who volunteered when he heard what you were doing.

The next was Donna, who cried when you actually gave Angie a body. Then Salvatore was next, when you promised to be his friend.

Alcina was the hardest. She thought that if she accepted then her daughters would die and disappear. But you assured her and even showed her that you wouldn't let that happen. She was amazed by the other lords. Donna isn't sporting her scar and Angie is actually alive and in a real body. Karl doesn't have his powers anymore but his intellect is still intact and Salvatore was just beaming.

"How did you-?" You chuckle.

"Blood Magik. It's something that only some practice and even fewer get the hang of. And me?" You ask as the air suddenly gets heavier and everything quiets down as you let out your mana. "I'm the Master of it." Everyone looks at you when just as fast as it came, the tension was gone. You hold out your hand to Alcina. "So would you trust me?" She accepts and cries in relief when she hugs Bela, Cassandra and Daniela in their normal bodies.

Meanwhile, you grimace in silence as your organs will take some time recovering their usual functions... what? Blood Magik needs sacrifices and you would rather do it yourself than exploit other people.

And then lastly, Mother Miranda. You were actually afraid that she would try to fight you and you, with your organs all fucked up and your only weapons are basically your potions, were nervous. But she accepted and as you hand over Eva safely to Mother Miranda, you pass out and everyone panics.

Karl was absolutely fucking scared shitless and befuddled by your physical condition?? How in hell are you even alive?

You wake up three days later and Karl just gave up on trying.

You laugh at him and wheeze.

"I"m basically kind of an immortal too." He just sighs.

The next few weeks were spent inside the Dimitrescu Castle because that was the most comfortable house. The Beneviento House would be good too but Karl just felt that you would like it more in the Dimitrescu Castle. You agree.

As you spend more time with Alcina, you both just slowly but surely fall for each other.

Bela Dimitrescu

Hunting made easier. Brought to her by you and your Blood Magik.

With just one goddamn snap of your fingers and bam, a barrel is full.

This makes spending time with each other, a lot easier and longer.

She would listen to you tell your stories and you love it when she gets excited about books and such.

One day, you finally learn how to create a human body. There was a lot of things to do and spells to practice but you were determined.

And you finally achieved it. It took long enough but then you sensed it.

Mother Miranda stole a baby from a caravan??

"What in hell is happening?" You mumble as you gaze at the village. Then there it was, and it hurt the fuck out of your mana when the people turned into monsters.

"What the fuck!? Shit!" You curse as you feel the megamycete mutate. "Oh hell no!" You shout and use your magik to locate the shit.

"Die, asswipe!" You completely destroy it without batting an eye and you can hear Mother Miranda's shouts of agony.

You pant as you can finally feel the mana in the air be lighter. You go to the castle and as expected, everyone is in a bad shape.

It took months but you got them all back to normal, even most of the villagers.

Bela kept crying as you hug her, finally together with her.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You met Cassandra while you were surrounded by Karl's werewolves. Dead werewolves. You were slightly out of breath and then your eyes met.

Ethan was about to chase her but you stopped him because she was the same as them.

"Why'd you stop me then?" You shrug at your brother who glares at you.

"We should just get Rose back and not kill anyone anymore." Ethan raises an eyebrow at you.

"What? You literally just killed like a hundred of these werewolves." You use your magik to get the blood off yourself.

"They attacked. I only countered." Ethan sighs as you just walk away. He follows you and as you get to the castle. You can instantly feel their energy.

"What the fuck? They're made of it?" You mumble to yourself. And just as Bela was about to push you and Ethan down, you counter her and made sure to not let her flies disperse.

'Shit. This is hard.' You think to yourself as you dodge both Cassandra and Daniela attacking you.

"Y/N?"

"Rose is in that direction. Just wait for me there." Ethan nods and quickly goes the way you pointed. You use your magik and they all freeze. "You guys are so troublesome." You sigh. "But then again, I suppose all good things are." You use your magik again and locate Alcina.

You made a deal with the Dimitrescu Head. In exchange for normal bodies, she'll have to let you, Ethan and Rose's part go. Ethan's outburst when he realized what they did to his daughter didn't help but you used that.

"You know I'm powerful, right? Trust me, you don't want to test my brother."

You leave the Castle with Ethan, unharmed but with a deal made.

It was the same with the other three houses and before you knew it, your niece was restored and you had to make eight people back to normal... It was hard but when you wake up, feeling groggy and disoriented with all of those people and your family, you think to yourself that it was all worth it.

You rebuild the village with all of them and actually get closer with Cassandra. She admires your magik and you admire her art.

Before you even knew it, you had fallen for her and even though she hasn't realized it yet, she has fallen for you too.

Daniela Dimitrescu

Being a powerful magician meant most of the world are after you.

That was how you found the village. It was isolated and so it was perfect for you.

As you were strolling along the village, late into the night, when everyone is asleep, you feel a somewhat murderous intent and you smile to yourself. Either you were too careless or someone was really good at hiding their intent.

When something was about to hit you, you quickly activated your magik but flinched when it didn't affect them, so you quickly turned and jumped back.

The person who attacked you was surprised as well that you could react like that.

"What? You dodged??" You sigh.

"I dodged because you were trying to kill me! Who are you?" Daniela smiles at you.

"Daniela Dimitrescu, I live in that castle. And you?" Why did this woman?? can you even call her that suddenly- You sigh.

"I'm Y/N... and something is really wrong with this village of yours."

"What?"

Before you and Daniela even knew it, you were both knee-deep in everything, you even saw the Megamycete together.

And call Daniela, good-natured because by then, she wanted to stop Mother Miranda and help everyone. So help you did.

You just couldn't say no to her, could you?

By the time, everything was over, you were already half-dead and Daniela finally realized she was in love with you.

It was a good thing that you have potions.

A/N:

I'm sorry that I have been gone for weeks now. College started then something happened that made me not want to write at all.

But I'm back, although I may be a bit slow.

I'm so sorry. I also closed off my requests since I'll be focusing on college and completing the Loving You sequel which is 70% done by now.

Comments and thoughts are always welcome!

Thank you for reading!

If you can, please buy me a coffee.

[skylarmoon71]

Reverse Flash x Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

Dealing with this yellow suit wearing maniac was not how you thought you’d spend the night. As an ex citizen from Central city, you knew just about every villain that came out of the tragedy of the explosion. Every day a new one seems to arise, and since you liked having all your body parts as they were, you stayed caught up with the news.

That’s why you’d left the place for some much needed peace. 

Rockstone was quiet, and still pretty populated. It wasn’t that far away from Central City either, so you could still visit your family every now and then.

“You seem awfully calm for someone being threatened."

The dark haired male raised his vibrating hand, hoping to urge at least some kind of reaction. After being brought back and wiped from existence so many times, this time around he’d just been looking to have a little fun. Chasing Barry around was starting to get redundant. And then he supposed the hero had his own problems to deal with right about now.

He planned to stay as low key as possible until he could figure out what his next move was. So kidnapping an unsuspecting victim and forcing them to provide him shelter seemed like the best way to go.

“Not gonna lie, scared the shit outta me when you appeared out of that little portal. Really thought I dodged a bullet leaving CC. Just my luck.” you grumble. Sipping at your coffee, you adjusted your bag strap. “Sorry old man, got a job to get to so if you’ll excuse me.” you walk around him. It was already dark, and since you had a night shift at the university today, you really weren’t in the mood for this.

Your hair is taken with the whip of the wind, and it feels like a blink. Drink discarded on the ground, you stare in shock. He has you pinned to the wall, snare on his face, blue eyes emitting so much raw agitation. “I’d advise against mocking me.”

He’s started to vibrate, the red light overtaking his eyes.

“It’s not wise to test me.”

The echoing of his voice would bring any person to their knees in fear. The look in your eyes shifts from shock to annoyance. Your free hand is hanging at the side of your waist. You raise your palm, and he looks down just as a blue light shoots out. He’s gone once again, obviously not anticipating this. No longer forced up on the wall, you shrug your shoulders, straightening your shirt that was ruffled.

Eobard is now standing at a distance, intrigued. He halts his speed for a second to observe you. He’s positive he has no recollection of you. Being the evil genius that he is, he’s pretty much recorded all the villain metas in Central City. All those years travelling through time also played a big part in it. So why does he have no profile on you?

“Who are you?” He narrows his eyes, and all you provide is a smirk.

“I think you mean what.” You open both your palms, and your eyes are now emitting the same glow as your hands.

“Great.”

What in the world did he get himself into. He really had a knack for picking bad situations.

~Three Months Later~

“I could have just. “ He makes a hand motion, and you don't need to even guess what he means. This guy. You'd just been telling him about your experience yesterday with one of your peers.

“Now now, don’t make me put you to sleep again Bardy-poo. “ You could tell from his facial expression that the name was anything but desired.

“How long do you intend to keep me hostage?” you scoffed at his statement.

“Hostage, I’d like to think of it as a gracious service to society. “

Eobard was still glaring in your direction.

Running into you that night was such terrible luck on his part. He really thought he’d be lucky this time around, but he was dead wrong. You were unlike anything or one he’d ever met. Certainly not a meta. Since you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your origin, there wasn’t much to go on. What he did know is that every time he attempted to do something even remotely evil, you knew about it.

His powers also had very little effect on you. Trying on many occasions to drill a hand through your chest with no luck. You had him mentally and physically subdued. What’s even worse is he was trying to avoid time travelling, cause that would catch Barry’s attention, and the prospect of the male finding him was even less appealing. With nowhere to go, and you keeping him on a tight watch, his only option was to stick around.

It wasn’t like he was completely stranded. He had means to get by for moments like this. With his abilities he could take whatever he wanted without so much as a flinch. You apparently didn’t care much for his little adventures as long as no one got dead. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man, minus the unnamed being keeping him on a leash.

“I can feel you plotting from all the way over here. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Will you remove the bind?” He asked. You click your tongue.

“You know I can’t do that. Evil villain and all. I wouldn't sleep very well if I knew you were out there impaling civilians. “

His eyes were still marking you, and you shifted, brows knitting.

“Well...I’m gonna go because that look is a bit off putting.”

Moving to pick up your cup of coffee and head for the door, you’re once again trapped between the speedster and the wall. You’re about to give him another snarky retort, but you become a little distracted by how deliciously rosy his lips are.

You divert your eyes quickly before your mind can stray any further. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and for a second you almost think he’s trapped in the same haze you are. He’d obviously prepared something diabolical to say, but like some of your most recent interactions, his usual malicious intent is missing.

“So, you're gonna say something or are you trying to relive some Korean drama scene."

He blinks, then takes notice of the position. You’re a bit confused at the lost look on his face. If you didn’t know any better you would have said he didn’t intend to do that. Taking a step back, the coldness returns to his eyes, and just like that he takes off. You release a breath.

“It’s getting harder.”

This little ploy was becoming difficult to keep up. If he ever figured it out you’re not sure what his reaction will be. Your reason for doing this has greatly changed from the beginning.

~~~~~~

The little mental battle has been going on all day.

You could barely focus on anything even when you were teaching your criminology class. That night walking to your door, you felt heavy. Not just from the secret you were keeping from Eobard, but also the feelings you’d lectured yourself not to grow.

The dark haired male is not a good man. You keep telling yourself that. But you’d hope that these months being around you would change that. He hadn’t hurt anyone since his arrival. You honestly thought that you could change him for the better. Opening the door, you step in. The area is silent, and it sort of makes you a tad bit suspicious.

“Eo-”

“Good evening.” You jump, glaring in his direction as you push the door close. He’s sitting on the couch casually like he didn’t just scare the shit out of you.

“Geez don’t do that!!”

He’s once again strutting that stupid smirk.

“It’s uncomfortable isn’t it, when things happen that we have no control over. Surprises.” you squint.

“Why do I feel like that has some alternate meaning."

He’s dressed in dark clothing, glasses perched on his nose. Everything about his body language tells you something is up. With his attention now fixed on you, the bag in your hand is placed on the counter. You’re preparing for anything. As you’ve realized Eobard is very unpredictable.

“I’m done playing your game, release me at once. “

Trying not to pay much mind to his request, you walk past him.

“Come on, we've been at this for months. I can’t let you go on a rampage. Innocent lives and all. If you really wanna blame someone then blame yourself. What are the odds that out of all of the people here you decided to grab me right?” you laugh, but you don’t receive any in return.

“You’re under the impression that this is a game.”

Eobard knows there’s no harm he can inflict on your body, doesn’t mean his actions don’t make you nervous. He approaches slowly, but with purpose. With your back now to the fridge, you try to move to an area where you won’t feel as trapped. Eobard in no way allows this. His hands press into the cool surface of the fridge.

“Y-You know this fetish you seem to have with pushing me against stuff is getting kind of old.” Who were you kidding, shit was driving you mad.

“You can’t keep me here.”

There was no humor in his voice. Just flat out hostility. Yet he wasn’t emitting the anger you knew he had inside. Just because he couldn’t kill you didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. You’re positive he’s realized that by now. The prospect of him leaving, somehow it caused an ache in your heart. Eyes connected, it was impossible for you not to look so vulnerable.

“I-If you really want to leave then just go.” you willed your body not to shake, but it was becoming difficult to even keep your tears at bay. “Are you toying with me?” He clenched his fist.

You shook your head, lowering your eyes. Why did you have to feel guilty for keeping the truth from him. The guy wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. “I’m not. You can leave Eobard. “

His eyes grew a little wide at the information. 

“I’m not a witch, or a metahuman. I’m just a mutant.” you state. 

“It’s how I’m able to produce barriers like the one I placed on you. It can only be sustained for a maximum of three weeks. It’s taken me years to get to that point of control. You just assumed I always had the barrier up after a month, and I never corrected you because I was trying to keep people safe.”

That wasn’t your only reason.

This entire time he’d been trying to solve your mystery when the answer was right in front of him. It still made no sense. Why didn’t he leave?

“The only reason you’re still here is because you want to be.” Eobard took a step back.

“That can’t be right, why would I want to be stuck in this wretched town.”

All you offer is a smile. At the back of your mind you hope it’s because he’s grown closer to you than he wants to admit.

“I’ve been wondering the same for weeks now. “

You aren’t sure what else can be said. Thankfully you haven’t started breaking down. You sort of want him to leave so you can have the privacy to do so. You take a breath, forcing a confident smile on your face. “Well the cat’s out of the bag so I guess this is goodbye. Just because I can’t hold you doesn’t mean I won’t know when you’re causing mayhem. Better not fall back to your old ways.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, so you have no idea what kind of expression he’s wearing.

Eobard steps forward and grabs your arm.

“Wha-” your swept right off your feet, and you grunt when your back suddenly comes in contact with the softness of your mattress. Eobard is hovering over your body, and you realize he’s just taken you into the bedroom without so much as an explanation. Not just that, but the hunger behind those dark rimmed glasses is enough to turn you into putty.

“W-What are you doing!!”

“Testing a theory.”

“The fu-” His lips collide with yours and your eyebrows shoot up. If you had expected something, it wasn’t this. His entire body is now pressed into you. You’ve held your breath, whimpering.

This is bad, wrong even. His hands are pressed into the mattress, as he shows no signs of moving, or slowing down. His lips are moving eagerly against yours, and at some point your body has started to respond. You reach up, grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, forcing him closer. Your kisses are desperate now, and raw. One of his hands lands on your thigh, trailing up your leg. Because you’re wearing a dress, you can feel his palm against your skin. You moan, and he takes full advantage, slipping his tongue in.

“So good..”

He tastes amazing. His kisses are even more incredible. If you never came up for air that would be too soon. Eobard parts for the breath you are both in need of. Sapphire orbs have changed to navy, and it elects another needy moan from you. His hand is still on your thigh, caressing the skin teasingly. He’s so close to where you need him the most. Eobard takes pleasure in your soft cries. Now it all makes sense. The reason behind your need to keep him there, his apparent unconscious reluctance to leave you.

“Delicious.”

He licks his lips, pulling off his glasses and tossing them overhead.

“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. “ You gulp.

Did you?

His lips hover over yours and the logical part of your brain has vanished. You lean up to connect, but he’s keeping you at a distance with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face."

”It appears I’m the one who has you bind now. “

What an unusual turn of events.

Not that you’re complaining.

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (07a)

word count; 8511

summary; a chemical fire brings chaos, and the card system is initiated as multiple firehouse come together to try an save the staff trapped within the building.

notes; I split this one up again, just because the sum total of the part was over 15,000 words, and it had a convenient divide point, so it just made sense to do so.

warnings; chemical fires, reference to injury, reference to death, gore, burns, vomiting, reference to panic attacks.

As soon as you were stepping out of the ambulance, the stench of chemicals on the air was making your eyes water, the heat from the plant that was over a hundred metres away could be felt all the way from here, and there was a barricade being set up around you to hold the crowds back. As you stood before the building, you lifted your arm, staring up at the blazing inferno and resting your face into the crook of your elbow, breathing through the material as your throat already began to sting. 

There was the unsettling sound of emergency alarms ringing out from within the bullying loudly, glass shattering and the sound of splintering wood and foundations from inside, and the trucks of fire engines who had arrived before you were already unrolling their hoses. Looking around for your own team, you found them, Gally immediately unhooking the hoses and handing them out, and you watched as both Chuck and Winston hauled the reel up and over their shoulders, darting away towards the closest hydrants they could find. 

The blond head of your Chief came into sight, hopping down from the SUV he drove as the lights on top went out, sloppily parked as he rushed to the scene, and as he moves, he was pulling back strands of longer hair into a bun, and pacing away towards the crews. Your feet were moving underneath you before you could control them, falling into step beside Newt as he let out a rough sigh, scratching at the stubble growing along his jaw that he hadn't been able to shave before the alarm went off, a look on his face that was a mixture between irritation and worry. 

It wasn’t often that Vince came out to calls too, your Chief often spent his times at the station, making calls from within, keeping everything under control and making sure that every piece of executive work that needed to be done was completed. He only ever came to calls that required every member of personnel available, when there would be multiple different firehouses to answer a call, much like this one, where decisions would be made by the Chiefs rather than the Lieutenants, and as he paced away to meet the other high-ranking men, you arrived with your group. 

Flicking your gaze over both Gally and Thomas, you tried to assess how they were feeling. Something within you told you that neither of them was all that fond of giving up the control in a situation, and while Gally would often listen to what Thomas had to say when it came to a call, it still made it tough. Thomas wasn’t looking at the crew; he was staring out at the chief, watching Vince walk away to meet with the other’s and his eyes narrowed a little, unable to decipher what any of them were saying. 

The shaking of your arm caught your attention, a larger hand with spindly fingers hooked onto your bicep, and you followed it up, finding Newt’s gaze, and raising a brow at him. 

“I think we’re going to be put on a card system, I’ve only done one of them before, but I hate doing it.”

“I’ve never used the cards before. I don’t even know where we keep them.” You mumbled, and Newt shrugged, his eyes flicking back over to the white van that the two of you had arrived in. 

“They’re in the second-cabinet over the bed, top shelf, in a storage box.” He frowned a little as he sighed, shoulders slumping a little, and your own mood was dwindling. “I like to keep them hidden away, I don’t like to see them.”

You could only nod, remembering yourself years ago as you’d been doing your emergency field training, reaching your crisis events stage, and this definitely qualified for that. An explosion within a chemical plant, fumes going up into the air as the fires continued to burn, and the population inside were unable to get out at the current moment. The card system was something that always brought a sour taste to your mouth when you thought about those lessons, the pictures and examples you’d been given, the other paramedics who had come in on those days to discuss their own experiences, it was all extremely saddening.

Four colours of cards; red, yellow, green or black. Too many patients to possibly get into ambulances and get to the hospital, and so you were tasked with the excruciatingly difficult task of making the calls yourself, of taking every life into your own hands and risking making a decision on their health, how strong you thought their chances of survival were, and when you would be forced to give up on them. 

Green for patients you came across that would be fine, the ones who could wait for treatment, may not even have to go to the hospital at all, or could be taken by the surrounding public. Yellow cards meant more in need of care, not to be ignored, but certainly capable of waiting if it came to it, and red, those who were in a critical condition and needed urgent care. 

Then, there were the black cards. The sombre shade on a string for those who were injured beyond relief, who wouldn't make it to the hospital, or the extent of their injuries would mean surgery was deemed impossible anyway. Those who simply had to be made comfortable, because there was nothing else that could be done for them. 

You hated the card system. 

Vince was making his way back over, and the team behind you was already beginning to suit up, the rows of chemical hazmat-style suits that lay in neatly stacked rows within the chambers of the fire trucks, stacked up for use that barely ever came, kicking off their boots to try and tug the protective plastic covering up and over their suits, making sure they were sealed at their ankles, before redressing themselves once again. You perked up a little as the Chief arrived, looking a little frazzled already, but it was evident that was the mood of the day, and the other trucks began to fire up the water to spray at the flames that could be reached. 

“Alright, ‘21, listen up.” His hands rubbed together, silence falling over the group as mumbled whispers hushed, ready for commands. “Firehouse ‘17 and ‘22 have already started on the outer works, they have hoses set up and are working on the rubble and gaining us entrance. We will be going inside, along with ‘24 who are already beginning to sweep the lower floors.” Thomas only nodded, turning to confirm with his team, and Gally began to instruct the truck crew on their positions, the sounds of zippers and helmets, slamming of doors and the hiss of the engines as the fire trucks were powered down. 

“And us?”

Vince turned to look at you, glancing over his shoulder at the scene, looking around, before his eyes were fixing onto a patch of grass, shaded by a few trees, the general public lurking on it as news broadcasters began to arrive and begin to set up. “I’m going to clear you some space, pull up your ambulance, the other three are going to join you. The two of you will stay here, you’re making the most calls, the paramedics from ‘17, ‘22 and ‘25 are going to be doing hospital runs. I want cards, quick and fast, there are over three hundred people trapped in that building right now.”

The confirmation was all you needed, before Newt was jingling the van keys in his hand, a promise that he would get the truck and take it over to park, if you accompanied Vince to begin clearing civilians and broadcasters from the space. You would need to start blocking it off from the public eye and the cameras as best you could with the vehicles, knocking that it would be distracting to your work and distressing to the victims if they were constantly being watched, and you nibbled a little on your lower lips as you looked over the scene. 

Vince was already pacing away from you, Newt too, leaving you standing in the middle as your eyes flickered over it, and the only van that would be permanent there would be your’s, every other ambulance being used to make hospital journeys, as you hoped that someone had managed to call up the local hospitals, because they were all going to be preparing for an influx of new patients soon. 

The sudden slamming of a door to your side made you flinch, turning to look at the brought red vehicle as you were shocked from your thoughts, and your eyes flicked over to the scene once again. 

Thomas was only a few feet in front of you, his foot lifted onto the edge of the van as he redid his laces, the plastic material of the chemical-proof covering sitting undone around his waist, and you made your way over to his side, clearing your throat a little, and he finished doing his laces, turning to look at you silently with a questioning gaze as he stood to his full height. Pushing an arm through one sleeve, he waited for you to speak. 

“Is there any chance you could move your trucks over to the edge of the grass for me?”

He turned to look, his gaze sweeping across it, along the sides of the road, before he was looking back to the burning building, seemingly doing the equations silently in his head as he thought it all over, of what equipment they might need, of access that might be impeded, all while adjusting the suit he wore and lifting his helmet onto his head. “I guess so, why?”

“I don’t want the crowds and the media to start gathering around when the wounded start coming out, it’ll give us a little more privacy, make it easier to work, and make the people coming outta’ there feel a little less like tonight's headline news, and more just a person who needs help.” You shrugged a little, hand pushing into the pockets of your jacket as you stared up at him, his lips flicking up at the corners as he stared right back, licking over them to wet them as he nodded. 

“I can do that, for you. Give me five minutes, and I’ll get both trucks to move, just tell Minho and Fry where you want ‘em positioned.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” A breath of relief left you, Newt sounding the sirens once as he passed you by in the ambulance, as you gave him a brief nod, stepping away from Thomas as you made to follow the slowly moving vehicle and begin to prepare for the survivors who’d be delivered to you. Spinning on your heel as you went, you found Thomas already watching you go, and your lips pursed, considering your words for only a second, before releasing them; “Be careful in there, okay?”

He seemed surprised for only a moment, swallowing thickly and ducking his head, before he was giving you the same nod you’d given him, and trying to give you the best reassuring look he could in this stressful situation. “I will be.”

He offered you a cheeky smile to follow up, one eye dropping in a wink, before he was twisting on his heel to face away, and picking up a job as he set off to do his job, saving the lives of those who were trapped inside. He paused only for a moment to instruct both of the drovers on their current diversion from tasks, the three glancing over to you for just a second, and Minho offered you a thumbs-up as he did. The truck beside you hissed as it came into action, the tyres slowly inching along the concrete as they were beginning to be repositioned. 

Taking up a quick walk as you arrived at the pavement, a space left on either side of the ambulance as Newt already began unloading the belongings from inside that would be needed. There were other paramedics beginning to arrive, the pair from house ‘24 was beginning to lay out neat rows of plastic linings along the grass, pinned down as best they could be to makeshift spots for patients to be placed within, a system that would keep it as organised as it possibly could be, channels moving vertically and horizontally that were wide enough for stretchers to be wheeled through. 

Parking one truck on each side of the ambulance, the other vans sat along the opposite curb, not nearly parked as tightly as your house’s vehicles were, all ready for their departing as they were loaded up with victims to be taken to the hospital. The radio inside of your ambulance was crackling as you clambered inside to help, the firetrucks engines powering down before the men were dropping down from the cabins and bolting away after the rest of the team, towards the inferno of flames that had once been a building and business.

There was chatter on the other end of the device, the nurses desk at one of the hospitals, left running as an open line was held in preparations for the emergency barrage that would be arriving soon enough, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. A hand knocked on the metal casing the inside of the door, and you glanced over at Newt, before you were opening up the locker with your med bag in, and lifting it onto your shoulder as he raised his brows at you. 

“You ready to go?”

“Is anyone ever really ready to start carding people?” You sighed, hopping down from the vehicle and letting Newt hand you a stack of the cards, a collection of strings to hang over their necks that were at least a hundred thick, an equal divide of every coloured card, and you could only hope that the only issue you’d have today was running out of green cards for the people you’d be helping.

There was a twisting feeling in your gut, something making you feel like there was a bad cloud hanging over an already terrible event, a crawling and scratching kind of nausea that made you want to itch at every inch of your skin and squirm where you studio because something felt wrong, and it wasn’t just the smell of chemicals on the air that you’d already grown used to, or the sting of your eyes from the copious amounts of greasy smoke curling up into the air and clouding out the sun in patches of the sky. 

Newt’s gaze was still fixed on you, and he offered his hand, tugging you forwards a little and holding onto you as you hopped down from the van, before an arm was wrapping around your shoulders, and you were behind tugged a little closer to his side as he tucked you close to him.

“Fry added a few little extras to the food delivery this week, we can have hot chocolate when we get back.” You huffed a laugh at his words, the two of you turning to face the building as the few minutes of silence that formed the quiet before the storm dragged on into what felt like hours of anxious waiting. “C’mon, everyone loves hot chocolate. It’s a feel-good drink.”

“I never said it wasn’t!”

“The tone of your scoff said it all. There was attitude in your exhale.” He teased, squeezing you a little closer, before letting you go, and moving to talk to the other pairs that were lingered about. As you and Newt were the team assigned to stay at the scene, presumably because your team was the only squad team, and would therefore be here the longest, you were left in charge. Your mind was already spinning, and you were grateful to have Newt, the man already on his toes and beginning os et out a system for how each other house team would begin to take patients to the hospital, to make sure that everyone got there in their due course, and that nobody in need of emergency attention was left behind. 

Just as you were waiting, pausing the nibbling of a lower lip that was growing sore for just a second, a pulse of energy washed over you, a second later, glass shattering and stonework cracking as chunks splintered away, and the flames went up louder as your ears rung at the explosion that had taken place. Something unstable seemed to have ruptured within, because sirens grew a little louder, the chatter of the crowds that were being held back, crying mother's and screaming children to accompany the wails of the building, and it was overwhelming every one of your senses.

The silence that followed it lasted only for a minute, everybody in the area going silent for a split second, before more chaos than before was bursting up. Crying relatives and concerned civilians became hysterical as news teams began to gather, the vans pulling up and cameras begging assembled as teams prepared to start covering the disaster. 

The logo on the front of the building was almost hidden, charred and disguised by roaring flames, but it had been a well-known company, something in cleaning and industrial usage, and you were sure that it was going to be a big lawsuit that would make lots of lawyers happy within the next few days. 

You didn’t recognise the first firefighters to emerge, belonging to another team, but as soon as they began to come out, the first wave of people who had been trapped inside was following. They didn’t seem too the worse for wear, a lot of surface skin wounds and first degree burns, smoke inhalation and dizziness as you sat them down, but the worst it ever got was a few yellow bands for wounds that may want to be checked at the hospital, and a gash across a woman’s head from where she’d fallen in shock, a concussion threatening her, and so you’d dismissed them all. 

The first ambulance had left soon after, while you had been kneeling in the grass beside a man who was shaking violently, unable to string words together in his shock as the bottom half of his tie was burned off, still smoking a little, with a burn across the side of his face that you tried to attend to. You forced yourself to let out a sigh of relief, the temperature in the air cool just a little as the jets of water blasted from the colony of firetrucks managed to tame the flames leaving the windows, but there was an ominous orange glow from inside, the huge building nowhere near being under control yet. 

Settling onto your knees beside him, you cupped a hand on the other side of his face, nervous eyes finding yours as his jittering died down just a little, before they were welling up with tears instead. 

“I’m just going to clean up your injury a little, alright?” He took a minute, nodding his head, and trying to swallow down thickly, before he was tearing himself away, a wrack of painful sounding coughs leaving him, and he gasped for breath between bursts, the smoke inhalation making his throat raw and swollen, struggling to breathe. 

You rubbed at his back gently, easing him through it, wishing that there was more that you could do for him, and thinking about everything you needed that you didn’t have on hand. You knew the burn of smoke in your throat, the painful stinging it caused, scratchy, like standing too close to the steam coming from a pan, and burning the inside of your mouth all the way to your lungs. When he finally managed to compose himself, it was with a whispered apology under his breath, and you brushed it off, a sweet smile offered to him as you did, before you were flicking the catch on your med kit once again, and letting it fall open as you prepared to tend to him. 

“It’s a surface burn, not too bad. I know it stings right now, but it’ll only take a few weeks to heal, and there shouldn't be any scarring, as long as you don’t mess with it, alright?”

“Is it going to get a scab?”

“I shouldn't think so. It’s going to swell up a little and get itchy, just like a bee sting, but don’t scratch it, alright?” You dabbed carefully along the spot with a cooling wipe, the skin under your fingertips searching hot as it was deep shades of red, even towards the edges, before meeting his natural tan skin tone, and you could feel the trapped heat just from the touch, even through your gloves. “It may develop a blister, but if you take care of it, that shouldn't happen either.”

Swapping out the wipe and tucking it into the main compartment of your bag, empty but beginning to grow with a collection of used materials to be disposed of, you undid the cap, an ample amount of white paste onto two of your fingers, and you used your thumb to smear it across the tips and make it a little more malleable. 

“If it gets too itchy, you can take off some of the inflammation by holding something chilled, not iced, up against it. Try running a cloth under the cold tap, wringing it out and putting it in the fridge for a while. Don’t sleep on this side until the skin has healed over, though, that’ll irritate it and make it worse. Any drugstore burn cream should work pretty well for it, okay?” He ran the words back to you, slowly and surely as he tried to commit the advice to memory, and you nodded your head as he got it. “You got someone you can call to come and get you, I don’t want you driving anywhere yourself, but I don’t think this is a hospital case.”

“I can call my neighbour. She works from home.”

“That’s great, there’s phones being passed around for use if you don’t have yours.” Grabbing your bag and sealing up the med box, you didn’t bother closing your bag, just swinging it over your shoulder as it accumulated rubbish, and standing up to your full height, stretching your knees a little as they began to ache, and yet, you knew that by the end of it all, you wouldn't even be able to feel them. You probably wouldn't get out of bed at all tomorrow, though, you’d be so sore after it all. 

“Excuse me, sir, do you have time for a few questions?”

You jumped a little at the sudden voice behind you, turning to find a smartly dressed woman, pencil skirt and a blazer, with freshly highlighted hair and manicured nails wrapped around a microphone, and her cameraman only a few feet behind her, fiddling with the switched on the device as he waited for confirmation, half of his face hidden from you as he peered into the lens. 

The man on the floor fumbled a little, the plastic sheet underneath him crinkling as he moved, and you watched him gape slightly, the woman balancing on her heels on the grass raising her brows a little, a ridiculously fake smile plastered on her lips to be polite, and she didn’t acknowledge your presence at all, even when you cleared your throat in a points manner. 

“We aren’t taking any interviews.”

“I just need a segment for my channel, that’s all.” She hummed, glancing at you over her shoulder, her eyes dragging up and down your body in a way that would’ve made you insecure had it not been for the fact that the bulky uniform and professional hair you wore wasn’t for screen views and attention, but for practicality and saving lives, and that was enough for you.

“Yeah? Well, you’re going to have to find them somewhere else. This is for victims of the fore, not your next interview. Get off my grass.” 

She turned to stare at you, straightening up to her full height and standing a few inches taller than you, her eyes narrowed as she tried to seem intimidating enough o get her way, and had it not been for the adrenaline of the situation surging through every cell in your body, you probably would’ve caved under their harsh stare. 

“In fact-” Your voice raised a little, enough that Newt and the other patients, paramedics, and news broadcasters that were walking the faintly marked pathways to find their next interrogation victim could hear. “All the news channels can step the fuck off the grass and get behind the vans with the other civilians. We’re treating trauma victims here, you can wait and get your interviews if any steps forward to speak, on the other side of that barrier.”

You raised an arm, pointing at the trucks that Thomas had arranged his men to purposefully park for you, but never taking your eyes off of her, raising a single and challenging brow, and she held your gaze for only a second longer, before she was huffing out, stomping away and back to where you’d commanded her to go. The other pairs of cameramen and hosts followed suit, all of whom were glaring, peering around like vultures and offering interviews out to everyone they passed, trying to tempt the wounded to cross the threshold and set themselves up on-camera. 

The next person up was someone who was hunched over a little, a hand clutched around their stomach as they supported themselves on the sheet, another victim retrieved from within the flames was sitting beside them, the two huddled together, one older and one younger, and as you knelt down beside them, their attention flickered to you. 

From your initial assessment, you hooked a green card over each of their necks, leaving the handful of coloured plastic necklace slips to the side in order to ensure that they were there, in case more serious problems began to arise. Newt was working along the aisle beside you, his eyes catching yours for only a second, a swift nod, before he was taking place beside a man who’s family seemed to have already found him, a young girl kneeling beside him as another crawled into his lap, and your heart warmed at the sight. 

The waves of patients came and went, your focus on the women in front of you being your primary concern, but it didn’t stop the white noise around you from making itself known every so often. There wasn’t a second of break, the second you cleared one plastic sheet, whether it be sending the patient to the hospital or straight home with medical advice, it seemed to be being refilled. Glimpses of your team hidden amongst the similarly clad strangers of other houses kept a soft smile flickering on your face occasionally as you scanned them over, diagnosing one with smoke inhalation resulting in dizziness and nausea, and the other with minor burns and a possible concussion, both being sent to the hospital with a family member who was called to come and collect them, and to give their coloured tag back to a member of staff before leaving. 

There were still news reporters buzzing around the edges flashes of cameras and heavy video set-ups lance don shoulders as smartly dressed presenters wandered with perfect hair and microphones to stick into the faces of anyone who would stop to give information for even a second, your blood boiling at the idea of it all. It made you nervous, to know that these people had already been through so much, that you and your team were under so much pressure, and you were being projected live with your actions under scrutiny as it was all making tonight's headlines, ready to be printed on tomorrow’s papers and on the evening’s Twitter trends.

Just as you were searching for your next location, eyes flickering over the patients at who you’d already seen, who Newt had visited, searching over chests and necks for strings that led to coloured cards, before a hand landed on your shoulder, making your jump. Heavy and large, and you sighed a little with irritation as a voice came to follow; “S’cuse me, ma’am, do you have a second to answer a few questions?”

You scowled, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to contain yourself. The anger was already too much, the stress within your body left you bubbling over on an overly emotional high that could topple in, either way, these kinds of big events always made panic rise up within you, and you’d be emotionally destroyed by the end of it all, frazzled and drained, with nothing to help but some peace and quiet, and comforting yourself with the company of your favourite movie or your bed. “I already told you all, no fucking interviews unless the patients come to you themselves, so unless you’re one of the injured workers from inside, get off my damn grass.”

Spinning on your heel to face the man, your eyes widened, someone much taller than you were was all but towering over you, an expression on his face that was somewhere between amused, confused, and concerned, and he looked around the scene, the uniform shirt on his chest shifting with a rustle of material as he tucked his thumbs into his belt, brows raising a little. 

“Officer. Right, sorry, my bad. I’m just a little..” You waved an arm out around yourself, the low groans and cries of pain, a chaotic clamouring of voices, the wails of sirens on trucks and ambulances, the sounds of fire and shouts of teams as their radios crackled, it was enough to give anyone a headache, and there was already a throbbing behind your eyes that was only going to get worse.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Understatement.” You mumbled, and he chuckled a little, your head rolling from side to side, a collection of pops and clicks sounding as you eased yourself out a little. “What can I do for you?”

“More like what can I do for you, actually.” He shrugged a little, looking around over the crowds, and you twitched a little at a particularly sharp cry, knowing that people were needing your help. “Looks like you and the other paramedics have things under control, as far as the chief’s over there say, you and that chap over there-” His head nodded towards where Newt was standing, a sullen look on his face as he hooked a red card over the neck of a young woman who couldn’t be any older than mid-twenties. “-are organising everything here. So, just tell me what you need.”

“What we need?”

“What we can do to help, we just want to offer what we can. It’s a freak accident, and that building is still on fire, so we can’t exactly start investigating anything yet,” You nodded, nibbling on your lower lip as you began to catch on. “So, just tell me what I can do to make things a little easier for you.”

“Okay, well, where to start.” You had no idea, trying to clear your thoughts as to what they would be able to do that would benefit everyone here. “Let’s start with a real barrier, there’s a lot of people beginning to gather, and it’s loud. It makes it hard to work, there are news channel vultures everywhere, and it’s distressing to the injured being brought out, makes them feel like zoo animals or something in a circus. Push ‘em back.”

“You got it, we’ll set up some boundaries. What else?”

“On the topic of the crowds, though, you could start sifting through for family. A lot of them are calling for family members and friends to take them home or to hospital, to take the pressure off of the ambos’.” He nodded as you spoke, and you twisted to look away from him, hands on your hips as you tried to think clearly, a list of necessities beginning to form. “If you can, start going around and getting anyone capable to fill out forms so we can get the right families over, we don’t need more people wandering around and making it too busy to see what’s happening, we need to get exact families there accurately.”

He only nodded, letting you speak on, before you were letting out a sigh of relief as you finally got some support in place.

“Collecting up the cards when people leave, so we don’t run out. We’re on a coloured band system, so if you bring them back to us, we can redistribute them.” His eyes flickered down to the pile of plastic cards in your hands, observing them for a second, and nodding his head. “Lastly, I need some water bottles. A lot of them, these people have smoke inhalation, and they need to be taking slow and steady sips of water, and we don’t have any to give out.”

“I can definitely take care of all that.” He beamed, chest puffing up a little, and he lifted the radio on his shoulder to begin speaking to the rest of the officers that you could see wandering around. “If you think of anything else, come and find one of us.”

“I will. Thanks, Officer, uh..”

“Officer Paris.” You dipped your head, giving him your name in return, and he repeated it to memorise it, before the radio was crackling with a response, and he set off to complete the tasks you’d given to him. 

What you would term as the second wave of patients was worse. Despite the constant trickle of what were mostly skin wounds and minor injuries, with the occasional severity coming through, the more serious issues were beginning to arise now. Deeper from within the bowels of the building, those with serious injuries, dripping blood and flesh so raw it looked agonising, and wounds that would make anyone with a faint stomach pass out. The ones who’d been closer to the danger, trapped longer, wounded more severely, and the pressure was beginning to grow overwhelming with a whole new wave of crowds, not enough space for them all as your rush became even worse.

Minho was leading a group out with Brenda and Winston at the rear, and these seemed to be a crowd from deeper within the blaze. Suddenly the once empty and quiet grasses were filled, writhing bodies, spills of blood and raw flesh, dazed patients who could barely remember their own names and tear-stained cheeks. The green cards were a distant memory, yellow running out as you were moving through your stacks of red, and every time you turned, there was another person calling out for your help, another paramedic ready to make a run to the hospital, another family member searching for an employee with concern and stress written into their features. 

 “Ma’am, I just need you to hold still for me, alright?” It was as though she didn’t processed your words at all, going in one ear and out of the other as she twitched relentlessly, jerking away from you a little more each time as you tried to tend to the injury on her forehead, watching as she whipped around, frantic eyes searching the scene as the trauma she’d witnessed and been a part of. 

“Sorry, it just stings, is all.” She let out a sigh, attempting to hold herself still as you worked carefully at the grazes and burns along her skin. It was a simple gash, easy to fix and not much of a concern, the blood no longer beading along her hairline where the cut lay. Her skin was flushed with a pink tinge around the edges as you wiped it clean, pushing back her hair as you tried to judge whether or not to put paper stitches on it and pull the skin back together. She jerked again, hissing under her breath, and you mumbled an apology under your breath, but she only frowned. “I don’t have any right to be in pain, it’s just a stupid cut, there are people hurt worse than I am.”

As if on cue, you watched as a stretcher moved past only a few aisles over, the rustle of plastic and the pained groans of someone who had a red card dangling from their fingertips was rushed past, jostling over the dips and bumps in the grass as they tried to hold it as steadily as possible. “You have every right to be in pain! Just because you aren’t as hurt as them, doesn’t make your pain any less valid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, settling on leaving it as it was but rubbing a dollop of healing gel into the wound carefully as the second tube of the day was already moving towards its end, and you were utterly exhausted. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, or how many people you’d seen. It could have been minutes or hours, tens or hundreds, but your head was spinning, no time to focus on anything except for the wounded before you. “These cuts can sting like a bitch, I hate them myself, they’re in a sensitive place.”

“Thanks for helping me.” Her voice cracked, tears beginning to build in her eyes, and you let her hair fall back down into place. She couldn't be much older than you were, a charred and torn blouse on her shoulders with a pencil skirt that was tattered, and you hated that she wouldn't be able to look at a smart skirt or a pair of heels here without having traumatic memories of this day again. “I don’t know what happened. One moment I was trying to find a new packet of staples in the storage cupboard, and the next moment, the floor was crumbling in on top of me.”

“I know, these things just come on very suddenly. It can be terrifying.”

She sniffled a little, a breathless and empty laugh on her lips before she was wiping at the edges of her eyes gently. “I couldn't breathe. There was so much dust, and I was trapped, it was dark, and then it wasn’t. Suddenly there were flames overhead, and my ears were ringing, silencing becoming loud silence and screams and-” She hiccuped, and you pressed a water bottle into her hands, encouraging her to take several deep gulps of the cool liquid as the tears now flowing from her face cut tracks in the grey littering of dust on her cheeks. “Oh, God, the screams. It was awful, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget them.”

“It gets easier, don’t worry.” Her eyes found yours, searching you for honesty, and there was no lie to be held. You’d been in many of those situations yourself, and eventually, it got easier to live with, to know you may have survived when someone else didn’t, or simply to know that you did the best you could but it wasn’t enough. “You can’t control everything, and it isn’t your fault. Once you accept that, the guilt leaves you, and it’s easier to live with, because you know you were just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Is that how you cope?”

“Well, yes. That and having people around me who make it easier. You need people like that.” As you swung your bag up onto your shoulder, you stood from where you were crouching, her eyes darting across the crowds as she presumably waited for her next of kin. “You got someone coming to get you?”

“My girlfriend is on her way.”

“Good. Clean that cut once a day, no hairspray of makeup in it until it’s totally healed over, and keep an eye on it for infections. You’ll be all good.” She repeated the words, memorising them, before offering her thanks once again, and just with that, you snapped out of your bubble with her, the noise that had been tuned out to become faded and muffle background noise was suddenly overwhelming again, and you couldn't focus on any one thing. 

As you’d tended to her, it was like everything else fell away, each case being given your sole attention, and yet as you slipped between victims to find the next person in need of help, you were dizzy with the commotion once again. 

It all became a flurry of movement, time slipping away around you as you tended to one person after another, the green cards you’d been growing familiar with and running out of were now in abundance, each one returned to you was like a kick in the gut, a sea of yellows and reds to represent injuries as victims from deeper within the catastrophe came through. You weren’t sure how long it had been, or how many people had passed you by. 

There was mud stained onto your knees and legs from where you leant by the side of patients in the dirt, and there was blood staining your gloves and sleeves, no longer clean as loose hairs fell free from your up-do as you tried to keep it out of your face. There was grime and blood crusted into your hair, smears on your skin and you were feeling the extent of the forming headache beginning to take its toll on you. Your head felt like it was being squeezed tightly, the stress of it all making your hands shake each time you tried to steady them to give stitches, or to hold yourself still to be able to run an exam. 

Every person you came to had a different story, and the day was tickling by in a blur, the firemen finally beginning to make a move on the fire itself and the containment over just finding survivors within the walls, your heart thumping with relief and concern each time you saw a member of your team flash by, far too quickly to even exchange polite nods, but at least it just confirmed to you that they were all okay. 

As you locked up the backdoors of one ambulance, the pained groan of an older woman who had just handed you back her red card could still be heard from within, and you banged your hand on the vehicle to signal them to leave, the rumbling engine carrying them away from you, sirens flicking not long after they left the curb. You were only given a moment’s reprieve, before footsteps were coming toward you, thudding against the ground behind you, and your eyes slipped close for a second in your exhaustion. With a hand on your arm and a force that pulled you around a little to face them, you tried to focus your eyes on the person before you, doing an initial sweep over them. 

You recognised the uniform, matching to your own, identical in everything except for the house number stitched onto the fabric, and you let out a little sigh, at least a little relieved that it was just another paramedic, which would give you a second to gather yourself.

“Who's next?” Their brows raised, a little blood smeared on her shoulder in the vague shape of fingerprints and the strands from her hair was beginning to fall out from her braid, messy and undone, clearly pulled back up in a rush and you could only imagine how the sights at the hospitals must be. There were plenty of people who’d be injured externally from the fire and explosion too, civilians and those who had been passing by at the time, as well as anyone who had removed themselves from the building before a firefighter found them. “I need you to tell me who to take next.”

You blinked a little, unsure of when you’d gotten stuck in your thoughts, and cleared your throat, trying to offer a nod as you processed a catalogue of everybody you’d seen so far. “Uh, yeah. Right.” You looked around, your eyes locking on the person you were looking for, and nodding your head towards them. “There’s a man over there, red card, head split open from the rubble, losing blood fast. I put him in a neck brace and managed to close his wound but it’s going to need stitches and surgery. Definite haemorrhaging.”

She offered you a nod, the House ‘17 paramedic dashing away from you quickly, calling out the name of her partner and you wished you could remember it but it felt as though it had gone within one ear and out of the other, never once stopping to process it or memorise it. 

Running a hand over your face, you took a split second, the racing of your heart in your chest was beginning to ache, and your throat was raw, and you forced yourself to take at least one slow breath, holding it before letting go, and feeling your heart calm from it’s rapid thudding, even if just for a moment. 

You were caught up taking a moment to yourself that you missed the distressed call the first time, the sound of it rattling around in your brain for a second, and your brows furrowed, eyes cracking open to look over the scene before you as you tried to discover if it had been real. Nobody was looking at you, nobody was calling again, and so you are certain that the familiar and panicked calling had been imagined. 

However, when it came again, your entire body stiffened. It was clearer, far more easily recognisable and a lot closer. His voice trembled, deep and rasping and distorted only by the mask that would be on his face, and your head whipped over the scene, before spinning on your heel to search further. “(Y/N)?”

Then you saw him, emerging around the side of an ambulance, head twisting frantically as he searched, a body slung across his arms, burned and bloody and flopping almost lifelessly within his hold, and the water bottle in your hands shook a little as it fell away, half-empty and rolling away from you across the grass with your shock. “Thomas!”

He turned, shoulders relaxing a little as his gaze set on you, and he took rapid steps towards you. Searching for the closest empty plastic-lined bay to him, finding one with the sheet flapping a little in the wind, and pointing it out to him. He paused, your feet already moving underneath of you as you went to meet him, and he twisted to a new angle, meeting you at the bay as he sunk down to lay the body delicately into the grass.

Whoever it was writhed as soon as they were placed down, curling in on themselves and groaning, arms wrapping up, and something between a pained yell and a sob left them, your heart cracking at the youthful sound of their voice. Dropping to your knees, a painful shock ran over numbed nerves, sparking you up in pain from where you thought you’d lost all feeling whatsoever, but that wasn’t where your mind was at. 

Setting down your bag, Thomas dropped to his knees on the opposite side of you, and you stripped off your gloves, swapping them out for a fresh pair as you looked at the extensive injuries this boy held, looking to be even younger than Chuck was, barely even eighteen, possibly even younger, perhaps just an intern, as you rolled him over onto his back slowly. Stripping off his helmet, it clattered and rolled in the grass, the mask following, and then you were catching sight of panic-stricken and worried eyes, flecked with golden speckles that seemed dulled in his fear, and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

“I-I dug him out of burning rubble. You can help him, right?”

He swallowed thickly, and you ran your gaze over him, pursing your lips, and taking a deep and steadying breath as you prepared to speak. “I’m gonna’ do everything I possibly can.”

“I should have done more. I should have found him sooner, I should have checked sooner.” His voice rose a little higher with each criticism he gave himself, and his eyes were fixed on the boy, you weren’t sure if he even knew if he was speaking aloud or whether those were thoughts he’d been intending to keep secreted to himself, attacking himself within his own mind, accidentally exposed. 

The boy wretched, a heaving cough that was dry but splattered blood across the ground, beside him as he twisted to turn over, and you brushed back the hair out of his head, picking up a simple and cleansing wipe of aloe vera to begin wiping at blood and soot-stained skin, to be able to see what you were doing. The boy was in and out of consciousness, and Thomas lifted an unstable hand, gaze flicking to you for permission for only a second, before he was placing a hand on the boys shoulder softly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, kid.”

“Thomas..” He shook his head, unwilling to meet your eye, as though he knew the pitying look that would rest there. He needed help, he needed comfort, the same way that you had done not so long ago after your own traumatic incident. His hands were covered by thick gloves, the ones that he could scarcely feel anything through anyway, and he was covered almost head to toe by protective equipment, save for the helmet and mask he’d removed, the only skin that was visible to you. 

Resting a hand on his jaw, your thumb swept over his cheek softly, feeling the tick of the muscles underneath as you slowly guided his face back up, sad eyes meeting yours, and his head tipped into your hand as his chin trembled. “I should have found him sooner.”

“It’s not your fault. I can take care of him from here, I promise. You found him, you saved him from that building.” He sniffed, nodding his head a little, and he brought up a gloved hand to sit over yours on his jaw, rubbing his thumb over the back of your palm as your fingers ran gently over his skin, scratching lightly enough to be soothing. “Go save more lives, and let me save his.”

He paused, before he was picking up his equipment again, and nodding his head. “Thank you.” His lips flicked up at the sides, no real joy in them but it was a token of his gratitude, and you returned the empty gesture, everything inside of you feeling empty, and you choked back the emotions within you as he left, and you didn’t dare to move until you’d seen him fade into the cross to returned to duty. 

[fandomsnstuff]

Angus figures everything out and fucks up Lucretia’s whole Thing AU

Lucretia hires angus, innoculates him, and is like this is the deal with those missing people cases you were investigating

Angus says oh okay! This totally and completely satiases my curiosity :)

Internally angus says this is sus as hell

So he does what he does best, he snoops

So angus is snooping and somehow, cause he's a little crime boy who can sneak around real good, he finds the starblaster

He's like what the fuck is this

He gets in, and it's.....odd. he doesnt linger in any one room too long, he just kind of pokes his head into the bedrooms and moves on (he figures he shouldnt stay here too long, lest he get caught)

But the most peculiar thing is how lived in this place looks. There's mismatched furniture with throw pillows and blankets in the common area, a chore chart on the fridge, the bedrooms are all cluttered with knick knacks and clothes, beds unmade, theres a lab with papers scattered around tables and taped to the wall

But one room catches his attention

It's... fairly simple, and emptier than the others. Bookshelf with some books missing, a bare desk, but what catches his attention is the pile of red on the bed

He goes to investigate and finds robes and jackets, all with an odd patch and names embroidered on them

He finds, in this order:

A robe with "lucretia" embroidered on it

A jacket and robe, together as if someone had been wearing them at the same time, with "lup" and "taako"

A jacket with "davenport"

A robe with "merle"

A jacket with "magnus"

(there’s no barry robe cause he fell off the ship with it, these are the robes/jackets lucretia took off of the crew members as she sent them off to their new lives)

Now. This is after crystal kingdom and angus was at the candlenights party. He knows the director's name is lucretia

He knows who Davenport is

He knows who taako, magnus, and merle are

This is pre-LUP incident, so he doesnt know who lup is

Angus, appropriately freaked out, puts them all back and BOLTS

Angus vacates the premises

Runs back to his room

He tries to figure out what this all means, but his thoughts dodge around the obvious conclusion that's right in front of him

Hes too nervous to go back, it's not until the L U P incident that he decides okay. I have to go back

So he goes back. He goes into the room labeled Captain's Quarters (although "captain" has been scratched out and changed to "cap'nport". Angus doesnt think too hard about what that means)

In the desk he finds some folders with the same weird logo as the robes and jackets. He doesnt look in them. Not yet. He can do that back in his room. He cant spend too much time here.

Then he goes to the lab. He doesnt know what hes looking for, but he grabs ones that seem important. A notebook or two. Some papers clipped together. He just grabs and shoves them into his bag and he fuckin bolts again

he looks at what he grabbed and some of it he can read, some of it he can't

They lived in that ship. They were going on a mission for something. They made the grand relics to stop something. Theres a lot of notes on the planes.

Angus recognizes the way some stuff is redacted, and he kind of figures out that there must be another voidfish. And if the directors name was on one of those robes, maybe she has it.

Refuge mission comes and goes

Angus, cause he's so fucking good, is able to sneak back into lucretias personal quarters and finds junior. He fills a water bottle with the ichor and gets the fuck outta there

He gets back to his room, innoculates himself and is like AAAAAAAAAA

Cause he can finally put it all together properly

And he basically pieces together the whole hunger situation himself with the notes he grabbed

The stuff he grabbed from davenports room was the crew's like profiles or whatever from when they got hired on to the mission so angus now knows who lup is

So angus is like oh i GOTTA fix this

So he heads down to the reclaimers dorm with his bottle of ichor

Angus: i need you to drink this Merle: what is it? Angus: voidfish ichor Taako: *laughs* hate to break it to you kid, we already drank the voidfish juice. Angus: just- please? Magnus: yeah alright

So magnus drinks it. His breath catches and he kinda goes weak and he's shaking and he drops to his knees. After a minute or two (or more) he looks up at angus. "Holy shit," he says. He grabs the bottle from where he dropped it and holds it out to taako and merle. "Drink it." He says.

"Yeah alright," merle says. Same deal as with magnus.

Once merle collects himself, they both turn to taako.

"Yeah, alright. Sure. Let's get taako in on this weird party," he says, taking the bottle and drinking

This time, magnus is ready and he catches taako when his knees give out

"Im gonna fucking kill her," taako mumbles into magnus' shoulder, his knuckles white as he grips his shirt.

"You're not gonna kill her."

"Im gonna fucking hit her so HARD, i swear to god."

Taako keeps his face in magnus' shoulder, but magnus and merle watch as angus crosses the room to where taako had left the umbrastaff, and he walks back over to magnus and taako on the floor

"Sir?" Taako looks up at angus. Angus holds the umbrella out, "i think i know where your sister is."

(Lup, meanwhile, in the staff: HEEEEELLLLL YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH)

It takes taako a second, but he realizes what angus is saying and scrambles out of magnus' hold and to his feet. He takes the umbrella and lifts it, about to snap it when angus says, "wait!"

Taako glares at him. "Ive waited ten years, kid. Make it snappy." "Madame director had a holy symbol in her office. I think it would ward against your sister, if shes a lich." "Uuugggggghhhhhhhhh LUCRETIAAAAAA"

The four of them go down planetside under the guise of a magic lesson and not wanting to burn any more "cryptic messages" into the walls

Taako snaps that fuckin umbrella as soon as his feet hit solid ground

Lup's back!

Lup does some magic shit to summon barry, so barold shows up, happy reunion, and then a Discussion on what to do re: davenport not being innoculated and re: lucretia

Their plan boils down to this: thb and angus will go back to the moon and act as if this never happened. As far as lucretia knows, thb are still under junior's influence

As soon as they can get davenport alone without rousing any suspicion, they bring him to their room and innoculate him. Once he's got his memories back, he'll be powerful enough to a) get his bracer off/disable the tracking spell in it and b) get off the base undetected

Davenport will definitely not want to go back to playing butler, so he'll sneak off the base and hang out with lup and barry until lucretia sends the boys to wonderland

When the boys get sent to wonderland, theyll meet up, get the bell all together, and THEN confront lucretia, cause at that point theyll have the whole light, and they'll have Options

So they do just that. They go back and innoculate davenport a few days later, a week at most

A panic ensues once everyone realizes davenport is missing

AND the tracking in his bracer is turning up nothing

Lucretia's blood pressure has never been higher

But everything goes as business per usual

Lucretia, oddly enough, suspects nothing re: the boys ‘cause surely they wouldve confronted her if they remembered

The boys get sent down to wonderland. They meet up with blupjeans and dav at the entrance. With the six of them with all their memories and full access to their skills they take edward and lydia down in like 30 minutes. Tops.

So edward and lydia get their asses thoroughly handed to them by the six of them

(Davenport has the time of his LIFE)

They head back to the lich cave, barry gets in his new body and gets innoculated (the boys brought some ichor with them for him)

Lup possesses barry, then barry-with-lup and dav get in the pocket spa and back up to the moon they go

Lucretia is in her office when avi comes knocking "Uh... director? The boys are coming back." "Already?" "Yeah." "Are you sure it's them?" "Yep."

Lucretia is.... stunned. It's been... an hour and a half. Two, maybe. She has full faith in the boys but they took down wonderland in two hours?????

Not even two hours

She goes to meet them, highly suspicious

But they arrive and, sure enough, it's them. No magic. No tricks. It's them, for sure.

taako has the bell and hes just holding it casually from the top as if it isnt one of the most powerful magic items in existence. And she can tell he isnt thralled, that's just how hes decided to transport it.

Lucretia: ive got to admit, you boys took care of that...much faster than i expected Magnus: ah, it was no big Merle: piece of cake! Taako: yeah, luce, shit was easy. Dunno what you were talkin' about earlier.

And lucretia just freezes. Luce. Thats what taako called her. It’s what they all called her, really, but it’s the nickname Taako took 4 whole cycles to give to her, officially cracking the door of friendship open to her. And she looks him in the eyes and she knows that he knows. And she looks at merle and magnus and she can tell they know, too.

And taako gives her a venomous smile, all teeth, and says, "why dont we go have a little chat, madame director" and she flinches at the way he spits out her title

She doesnt know what to do but nod and turn to leave. As she turns, there's angus, looking up at her with a determined set to his brow, and she knows he knows too

They head back to her office, and taako pulls the pocket spa out, and before lucretia can ask him what hes doing, out walks barry and davenport. And barrys eyes have got that red glow about them, so she knows lup's here too.

"Take down the lich ward, lucretia," barry says.

She does, and now there's a firey, red robed lich among them.

Now this is where things get a little iffy for how they work out but here's what i got

They have a similar confrontation as canon where theyre bickering about staying or going, shield or no shield, and im thinking this is where taako has his "there's a third option" realization

And, because they did extreme wonderland speedrun, and they didnt take a whole extra day to travel to the lich cave and just used fuckin magic to get there, theyre a whole day ahead of where they were in canon

The hunger is close enough at this point tho that they can enact the plan like. Now.

But magnus insists on returning Fisher's baby to them first

As magnus takes junior, lucretia works on getting the base secured and getting the bureau members ready for if the hunger touches down before they can cut it off

Magnus goes down to fisher with the baby, he takes his axe and swings, breaking the tank open

Johann, still alive and now soaking wet, is like dude wtf

Magnus returns the baby and out goes the story and song

Now johann is REALLY like DUDE WTF

Magnus is like im off to save the universe. Peace.

So since theyre a whole day ahead of the hunger, all seven of them go up in the ship

And then they fight and they win and they cut the hunger off and it's rad

The end

[sunflower1experiment]

Danganronpa x Identity V

(I’ve wanted to do this for awhile) (TW// flinching, death)

Toko

The ultimate gardener and her quiet girlfriend Toko, you lived up to the name somewhat: you gardened of course but you also knew how to tinker with a few things and fix them up.

Toko didn’t care for you and saw you as some know and all when it came to plants and tinkers but you pointed out that her stories inspired you a bit to explore relationships. You saw them as a distraction but she changed that: it meant a lot to her, until you confessed that you only said that on account to your parents deaths and…your sweet Angel. “Emily Dyer…oh my sweet darling. She rescued me, but when she vanished I couldn’t find her so- love and romance became void to me.”

Toko: somewhat determined for once did everything in her power to explain to you that love isn’t some unhealthy obsession, it even taught her some things as well. While you both were working on this you also grew closer than ever from friends to girlfriends, though it was more of an emotional relationship. Considering that you’re both Ace, but it helped you feel more comfortable around Toko.

“Hey Toko look.” You show her one of your produces from the soil. “Wow…That’s a beautiful strawberry vine.” “I’m gonna make some boba tea with these, want some?” She nods, “Th-That would be nice.”

Mikan

“Hurry up Mikan, we can’t let Monokuma catch us. I can’t believe he’d bring that sick game back to us like that.” Monokuma was a hunter, for this motive. And everyone was a survivor. So far no one was caught but that was because you didn’t waste any time saving them.

As the ultimate tech working with the mechanic you and Kazuichi made a plan to avoid that robotic bear like the plague. Mikan soon stopped to go heal Hiyoko whilst you waited, suddenly a bomb was thrown your way and you dive in and hold Mikan. Shielding her from the hit.

Running away once more you had your robot heal Hiyoko and held Milan’s hand so she wouldn’t fall or trip. “Okay be careful…let’s decipher this one.” You both decipher this machine carefully, once it was done you both head to the door further away so Monokuma would get confused.

As you open the gate you call for everyone. Mikan smiled as you held her hand then walked forward, “We escaped, come on. Let’s get outta here.” She happily hugged you. “I’m so glad we escaped together!” Now the girl was crying, but you hugged her back while she sobbed happily.

Nekomaru

“Eh- Ah!” You stumble back whilst backing away from the Hunter. He chuckles and slashed your body, slowly falling back you stare up at the sky the world faded…until you felt yourself in giant arms…

“Hey you alright?” You open your eyes then gasp and fell down. Backing away, “She’s not from here…” you look around. “I’ve never seen her before.” The male that caught you spoke. “Alright everyone! Don’t crowd her.” You stare at him whilst he offers a hand and slowly gave it to him.

You barely spoke, only when spoken to, but you did have a knack for dancing. Maybe even playing with the other students but one thing was for sure, you weren’t used to the sun and you practically basked and praised the sun like it was some goddess. “Have you ever been out before?” You shake your head, “I’ve been trapped in a manor for seventeen years.”

After being told that Nekomaru did everything in his power to let you have fun. You went to the beach with him, the kitchen, you even went swimming. Which you seemed to have done because the way you swam was so quick…almost as if you were swimming away from someone.

“Now LETS RUN.” He suddenly ran off and you followed after him. Not losing a single breath, at the end however you started panting. “I dislike running…” he chuckles and raised his hand causing you to flinch. “Oh- I’m sorry.” you breathed softly, “I’m fine…I just- have a bit of trauma from…the manor.”

You’ve told your stories a few times to Nekomaru and he still can’t help but just admire at how strong you are. “You went through all of that for so long…I’m sorry.” You chuckle. “I think I should be thanking you.” He hums, “I’m free from that awful place and I’m here with you.” Placing a kiss on Nekomaru’s cheek you blush lightly. “I don’t need to be a nurse anymore…I’m the ultimate Survivor.”

Gundham

You held your hands together then with a swift swipe you land gracefully on the ground before. A bunch of students. “So that’s what this? Heirloom was doing! Magnificent! The dark devas and I-“ “You’re to the man who called me.” You walk to him and lean in close, “You’re more of a safe- what are you doing calling a priestess?”

Ever since you both met you’d nag him about the arts of priesthood. Sometimes you’d mention your best friend who was an enchantress, “We both use different arts but I use this sacred art to teleport.” He admired your relic then gave you a begging stare. “Of course, we can teleport through the walls.” You place it against the wall and he walks through it. The male then walks back in and just well had a moment of astonishment.

“Why is it that you despise the dark?” “Eh…it reminds me of the manor I was trapped in.” He nods, “I too was trapped once, but I’ll never be able to comprehend what madness went through your hosts head to force you to play a game for…so many years.” You hug Gundham close. “You’re such a sweetheart. Thank you Gundham.”

Rantaro

You held her hand the whole run, she followed weakly until the Hunter was before you both. Without hesitating she shoved you to the gate and took the fall. “Melly!!” Suddenly the knife cuts you and you fell back.

Waking up you gasp, “Kirumi? Where’s Melly?” Rantaro held your arm and shook his head. You cover your mouth, “No no- she’s fine- I can go back-“ Kokichi gripped his arm trying to ignore the tears pouring from his face, Kaede sobbed as she avoided everyone’s gaze…Shuichi, Kaito held their heads down. Maki held you back, but you shove her away: “She’s alive!” Kirumi shook her head as she tried to calm her tears down.

You stop as you eyes go wide then the water works escapes as you let out a chocked sob and screamed for Melly. You sobbed and cried the whole time until Rantaro hugged you close, “She did this for us…She knew we couldn’t escape unless one of us stayed…” Gonta sniffles as he wipes his face sadly. “Gonta sorry for (Y/N).” Rantaro sighed, “I’m sure she knows.”

You didn’t leave your room, ever since you all escaped you made sure to go home and at least acknowledge everyone a few times but that was it….home, didn’t feel like home because she wasn’t taking care of the bees…Gonta was. Rantaro came to visit and you’d cry in your boyfriend’s chest pathetically, he stayed until you finally calmed then hugged him again.

“Don’t leave me.” You sniffle, he nods again. “I won’t, I promise.”

Kaito

“I’m Kaito Momota! Luminary of the stars- what are you doing?” You hum as you check his face out then you close your eyes as a magical essence flowed through your veins and onto him. “….You have my blessings.”

Giving him the blessing was a terrible mistake…to Kokichi anyway. But you enjoyed Kaito’s company even though he’d mess with your paint or he’s asking to many questions, or even better he’ll try to train with you. “I don’t comprehend this training…do we meditate?” Kaito chuckles, “Nah we do push-ups.” You soon join Maki and Shuichi and start performing these handstand push-ups. They watched as you do a scorpion pose and push up..

Now Kaito things you’re not human, can’t blame him. You did just do a scorpion pose and a pretzel pose, but it was just from practice. One time you offered to dance with him he didn’t mind at first until you started swaying your hips loosely. “Uhhh-….Men don’t have good hip strength.” You giggle then kiss his cheek. “You gotta lead with me.” So he does, hand on your waist whilst you danced. Then he dipped you, “Aren’t you a charmer.”

The man couldn’t stop blushing that day, but he managed to make the guy lay on your lap a lot, apparently he has a thing for big thighs.

Teruteru

You’d glide through the skies aimlessly enjoying the breeze until you’d land gracefully on a window then sneak by. Setting a nice toy beside Hanamura’s bed, it was a cute stuffed honeyjar.

He’d go up to you later on and just take you back to his room. Yea and you never leave because his face is buried in your boobs: you weren’t escaping him when you decided to date him come on now.

The pudgy chef admires the way you craft and keep toys in a box. He used one of the crafts but found out it made him invisible, “Ah this must be the magicians. Sorry I forgot about that.”

Whenever you’re getting dressed up for a date you never dress to flashy. You just like to set up the table and craft while he cooked, after the tasty brinner he makes you’d let him lay near you and cuddle up to your warm or cold body until he’s asleep grime exhaustion.

Hanamura however has seen you glide before and got nervous, but then saw you landing on stuff gracefully or using a literal catapult to get to different places. Or just go back to him, for some daily kisses.

“(Y/N)…What are you going to do about all of that?” You blink and look at your plushie collection. “…Nothin.” He sighs. Yep, you and him have a plush collection and the guy wants to sell them. You guys have to negotiate every time when you make a surplus of toys.

Finally his flirts: you can’t help blush at them, you’d then giggle while he’d place his hand on your waist and press a loving kiss on your cheek. Then you’d smother him with loving smooches on the head before holding Hanamura close while he blushed madly with a small bloody nose.

Ryoma

The ultimate Perfumer: what an odd ultimate the way you smelled perfume and admired the smell, everyone had their own scent and you’d use it on them.

Walking with your older sister, Mary towards….him. Your friend the one you loved so dearly….suddenly your vision is clouded with blood, a knife cuts your shoulder. “Goodbye (Y/N).” You gasp then yell as you fell down to what seemed like death…..

But when you woke up you gasped and held your eye in agony: “Woah woah, hey…don’t move to much.” You turn then reach out and try to grab your fragrance bottle. Until tiny hands held you back, “Kid…it’s best you relax.”

His name was Ryoma, or the shell of him anyway. But he took care of you for awhile until Kirumi had to help out: you didn’t talk to anyone for awhile until Ryoma asked for you to talk. When you did you let out a soft gasp.. tears start rolling down. “She must be in eternal shock.” Kirumi hands you some water.

When you did speak it was soft and so somber. You never ceased the tears, you always seemed to cry and of course that led to you getting picked on a few times but it couldn’t be helped to others points of views. Ryoma however spoke with you about it.

“Why do you always cry?” You take a second to answer but then you grip your veil and take it down. Showing your eye patch to him, “B-Before I-I c-came here I was going to see my friend…I think we both died: but I don’t remember. Everything hurts and feels so scary like I’m being chased again…And it’s worse when you stare at me because you remind me so much of him.”

He held your hands. “How much so?” You sniffle, “You’re brave, serious and cold..I don’t mind it just hurts because I got him killed and I died next-“ Ryoma out of nowhere hugged you close. “It’s okay…I understand completely…You don’t have to be alone.” The male was trying to ignore his own tears at the moment. “Sometimes you remind me of my girlfriend but- I don’t see anything else but you. So don’t try to look for anything like him on me okay?” You nod and the two of you press your heads together. “Thank you.”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 7 - Mistakes are Made

Oh jeez, I mean to post this days ago but I totally forgot! Whoops.

As you might have noticed, updates are coming pretty slow at the moment. This fic is getting hard to write, due to personal circumstances and shifting hyperfixations, but I will continue it once I’m able to get invested again. Until then, updates will probably be slow. Rest assured, this fic will be completed!

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

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After a few more necessary hours of sleep, which for Ford were deep and dreamless, the construction itself began in two different corners of the lab. On one side Fiddleford dove into making a working prototype of the gun, while on the other side Ford began cooking up ammunition.

Few things could kill a dream demon. Protective unicorn magic could halt one, and the right concoction of ingredients could harm one, but working together they might just be able to kill one. Therein lay the rub – how could the two be combined into a single shot? Luckily, Ford didn’t have his three PHDs for nothing, and he was nothing if not persistent.

:readmore:

By mid-morning he had worked out the necessary ratio of ingredients for the most effective attack power. By afternoon he had created the first prototype, and by late afternoon he had a dish full of them.

The final bullet design had a pill-like appearance, spherical in shape and filled to the brim with cloudy, iridescent magic. They made a glass-like tinkering noise as they dropped into their dish. Ford took a pair of tweezers and lifted one to the light, admiring its shine.

“That looks cool.” Stan said hesitantly from behind him – how long had Stan been being him? Ford yelped and fumbled, nearly dropping the capsule. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sneak up on me when I’m working!” Ford snapped. He hurriedly placed the ammunition back on its tray before it could get broken and turned to frown at his brother. Stan, for his part, looked suitably ashamed. “What are you doing down here anyway? I told you, you’re not allowed in the lab.”

“I know, I know!” Stan’s shoulders were around his ears and creeping steadily higher with each second that passed. “Just – I thought you and Fidds would be hungry? You’ve been doing your science thing for ages and I made food, so…”

“Oh.” For the first time, Ford comprehended the tray in his brother’s hands. ���Well, thank you. You’re still not supposed to be down here though.”

Stan stood on his tiptoes to lift the tray onto Ford’s workbench. The normally exuberant boy seemed unusually down, stepping back and rubbing his arm after placing down his load, and a twinge of guilt went through Ford. Okay, maybe a little more than a twinge. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Look – Stanley. I need to apologize for my behaviour earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten short with you.”

Stan shrugged and did not meet his eyes. Ford crouched to be at his brother’s level.

“I. Um, those dreams you told me about. Did you have any more last night?”

Stan stared at his feet and mumbled, “No.”

Ford took a deep breath, but before he could speak Fiddleford called out from across the lab.

“Stanford, I could use a hand over here!”

Ford straightened and hurried over to where his partner was soldering parts together. The gun was beginning to take shape on his workbench – maybe the size of a small hunting rifle but thicker, runes scratched into every inch of shiny metal and shimmering with Bill-proof magic. Fiddleford lifted his soldering mask to wipe his damp forehead.

“I already added yer magic wards and the last of that shiny hair stuff, an’ I gotta finish the magazine. Hold the thing steady for me, will ya? It’s delicate and we’re all outta unicorn hair to make another one, so for god’s sake be careful.”

“Of course.” Ford slipped on a pair of heat-proof gloves and steadied the rifle while Fiddleford lined up the parts. He made sure to avert his eyes from the glow of white-hot metal as his friend worked.

“Watcha doing?” Stanley called from across the lab.

“Attachin’ the last piece.” Fiddleford called back, not taking his eyes off the rifle. “Don’t get to close, or ya might get burned.”

“What bit is that?”

“It’s where the ammunition is stored.” Fiddleford explained.

“Oh! Like the shiny things Ford made?”

“Exactly.”

Once the soldering was complete Fiddleford lifted his mask to inspect the job, squinting through his glasses. He nodded to himself.

“Could use a bit a’ fine-tuning, but I’d call that almost done.”

Footsteps sounded as Stanley approached cautiously. Fiddleford grinned at the child, who stretched onto his tiptoes to see the project. “Whaddya think?”

Stan’s eyes lit up. “That looks so cool! This Bill guy isn’t gonna know what hit ‘im!” He looked between Ford and Fiddleford. “Whaddya do with it now?”

“We gotta make sure everythin’ runs smoothly before anything.” Fiddleford pulled off his soldering mask and wiped his sweaty brow. “Ford, would ya get the ammunition? Once this thing cools down I wanna make sure the dimensions are right.” He began pulling off his thick gloves.

“I can do that!” Stan scurried over to Ford’s workbench, ignoring Ford’s cry. He grabbed the dish of capsules and trotted back with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever playing fetch. Ford let out a hiss.

“Be careful with those!” He snatched them from his brother’s hands, heart racing. The ammunition seemed unharmed, but you could never be too careful, especially when there was a child around. Especially when there was Stanley around. He acted so thoughtlessly sometimes, that was the reason Ford hadn’t allowed him down here in the first place!

Stan looked sufficiently ashamed. “Sorry, Ford.”

Ford placed the bullets down very carefully next to the cooling rifle. “Why don’t you go upstairs? This is delicate work.”

“But you guys seem really busy. I can help!”

“No, Stan. This is very important work and you might break something.”

“No, but I’m good at stuff!” Stan protested. “I can carry stuff, and punch people, and get unicorn hair! I can be useful. You wanna move this to a bigger table? I can do it, see?” And to Ford’s horror he grabbed the gun off the table. Ford snatched for it, but Stan had already yelped as his bare hands came into contact with scorching metal and the rifle slipped from his grip.

Fiddleford dove to catch it. He crashed chest-first into the ground and only barely managed to snag it before it was dashed against the floor as well. The ammunition was not so lucky – the dish overturned in the scuffle and pellets skittered every which way, disappearing under surfaces and around shoes. Stan fumbled to try and collect them, but he was only making it worse, knocking them away in his panic.

“Sorry, sorry sorry sorry-”

“I said no!” Ford roughly grabbed his brother’s arm and yanked him away from the workspace, ignoring Stan’s yelp. “Every time, every time I think we’re past this you just have to go and mess everything up again! Are you not capable of doing what I say for once in your life and just leaving well enough alone? I told you not to touch anything! You could well have destroyed our one chance at getting rid of Cipher once and for all!”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” Stan whined and tried to pull away – dodging responsibility once again, just like always. Ford growled and held him in place.

“Now, Stanley, you– quit squirming! – you will sit down and be quiet and not touch anything else, is that understood?”

“Ford, leggo!” Stan squeaked.

“You are to stay away from Fiddleford and I while we work. I will not have you sabotaging me again, not like you did at the science fair-”

Stan punched him in the face.

It was a weak blow from a tiny fist – it barely hurt – but the shock at having his brother strike him made Ford freeze. Stan ripped from his grip and stumbled back with a whimper that sounded dangerously like a sob.

…oh.

Ford didn’t even have to look at his brother’s pale, tearstained face to realize that he had, perhaps, gone a little overboard.

“Stanley-” Ford couldn’t think of anything to say. What was there to say? Stan looked terrified, and Ford supposed he cut a rather intimidating figure to such a small person. He reached out but Stan jerked away violently from his hand.

Why wasn’t Stan getting mad at him in return? The Stan Ford knew would have yelled right back. Ford could handle anger, but he had no idea how to handle fear.

“Stan, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

He reached out again, helplessly. The instant his fingertips touched Stan’s shoulder the child recoiled, throwing his hands up as if to defend himself. But surely he knew Ford would never hurt him?

“No! No no no don’t touch me leave me alone! Go away! I hate you and I don’t ever wanna see you again go away!”

Ford flinched, and Stan took the opportunity to spin on his heel and bolt for the stairs. Ford froze, torn between chasing after him and staying to clean up the mess.

“Ford, a little help!” Fiddleford yelped, and Ford made up his mind. He whipped around and hurried to help his friend lift the rifle back onto his workbench. As he took the weight of the rifle Fiddleford snatched his hands back, wincing at the bright red burns that seared across his palms. “Ouch.”

Ford was careful to keep away from the hot section of metal as he lifted the gun back onto the table. When it was secure he was finally able to take a breath and turn to his friend.

“Fiddleford, are you alright?”

“Ah’m fine, just gotta get these in some water. Where’d Stanley go?”

“I – I don’t know.”

Fiddleford’s eyes widened. “If he goes outside the barrier-”

There were more words, but Ford had stopped processing them. He bolted for the stairs.

 Stan was such an idiot.

He hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes before running into the woods, and he already couldn’t feel his toes from the stinging cold. Well, who cared anyway? He just had to get away.

Stan’s numb foot caught on a root and sent him hurtling to the ground, grating his face and hands on frigid, snowy dirt. He let out a squeaking wheeze as the air left his squashed lungs, letting out little hitching coughs and sobs as he struggled to regain his breath.

Shut up shut up shut up, stop being such a wimp. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and sniffled, rubbing at his nose with a pathetic whimper.

Okay. So, everything was crashing down around him. That was fine. Everything was just fine. He still had – um.

What did he have?

There was something in his fist. Stan sniffed and uncurled his fingers to reveal a tiny shimmering pearl resting in his palm. He stared at it, blinking tears from his eyes.

“What the heck are you?”

Oh, wait. It was one of Ford’s bullet things. Stan’s grip tightened around it, that stupid little ball that was so important to his brother.

He placed it on the ground, climbed to his feet, and lifted a foot to stomp down on it.

And hesitated.

Because it was stupid, but Ford seemed to think these were so important, and Stan just couldn’t crush something that meant that much to his brother. He hiccupped and growled to himself.

He couldn’t do it.

Stan shoved it in his pocket and headed further into the woods.

 Stan wasn’t in the house.

A quick, desperate search revealed Ford’s home empty. Luckily a fresh layer of snow lay on the ground outside – a trail of footprints disappeared into the woods and he bolted after them, snatching his coat on his way out. Of all the places to go! The forest wasn’t safe, Ford had to get his brother back inside the barrier where Bill couldn’t reach them-

His foot slipped on wet snow.

Ford barely had time to flail before his legs slipped from under him and his head hit a tree trunk with a decisive clunk.

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 6 (DabixReader)

Thank you all so so so so much for you continued support and appreciation. I don’t have words to express how much it encourages me to keep writing. I love each and every one of your comments and likes and just slfjkdfkjasdlfjksfj You’re all perfect. No arguments.

Part 4: X

Part 5: X

Part 7: X

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Tag List: @velvet-kissesss @marydragneell @littleblackpheonix @holytacocactuscollector

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TW: Blood, Swearing.

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 Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do not think about the kiss. Do. Not. Think. About. The. Kiss.

 Too late. You fail to catch your gaze as it slips to Dabi’s lips- one smooth and one burnt but the memory of both against your own surfaces with the rising blush. It shouldn’t matter. You’d only done it to save him.

 “I haven’t been entirely… Honest with you.” you frown and force your gaze back down to your plate. “Something like this has happened before.”

 “Oh?” he barely sounds interested.

 “When I was younger my quirk showed up later than it normally does for others.” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your courage. “I guess. Or I never really noticed it until my blood accidentally got ingested. But that’s not the point.”

 You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Remembering her lifeless face- Aysu’s face- is a memory that sends tendrils of fear into your heart. Seeds of doubt, of worry and guilt to ravage your mind. Tear apart your soul.

 “She was boosted with her quirk and kept growing,” you continued, “I freaked out, she freaked out. I tried to pull it back when the thread appeared but when I did it just took… everything. Everything. Her blood, her air, her… life. I watched her turn into an empty husk.”

 Tears blink their way down your face but you can’t feel the sting. Numbness washes over you as you remember trying to stop taking from Aysu. Trying to stop her growing panic and her literal growing as she grew and grew in size. The defenseless way she shrunk into the fetal position, crumbling before your very eyes as the thread spooled back into your body. Like it had done its job. Like the bastardly thing was satisfied.

 “It was covered up.” you whisper. “Her parents were paid off and mine moved me here. I got one session of quirk counseling before they thought it was best I hid it from the world. To forget.. About her. About my so called fucking ‘gift’. I pushed it down for so long that… I actually ended up forgetting. But I was so, so angry at you. I could feel my quirk awaken like some giant beast opening its eyes for the first time in a long, long time. I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to suffer. My quirk awoke and it was as if nothing had ever changed. It told me to tug the thread back to me. To rip it away.  To take it back.”

 Dabi doesn’t speak as you shudder. He’s silent as sin as you anxiously wring your hands. You can feel his gaze on you like wildfire, untamed blue fire devouring your body inch by inch. Laying your sins bare for him to ignite. For him to see.

 To understand.

 “I don’t think I can stop it when it starts.” you whimper, “I’m not that s-strong. I can’t fight it. But I can give again. I can pour it ba-ack. Return what it took.”

 More tears drop from your eyes, rivers ebbing their way onto your cheeks. It’s hardly recognizable when you can’t feel anything but guilt and the heat from your body turning up higher and higher.

 “I’m sorry.” you strain to speak, your voice a ghost of what it normally is. “I didn’t mean to drain you.”

 “Your quirk is dangerous left unchecked.” Dabi sighs and you flinch from the empty, uncaring words.

 Your eyes turn to his face as your vision blurs. Dabi doesn’t owe you anything after all you’ve done to him, let alone kind words. In fact, after draining him from the very fabric of existence, you owe him. But your sorrow disappears as you glance up to find the heat you felt rising wasn’t your body at all.

 It was his.

 Blue flame flickers in his eyes. Echoing his burning soul deep within as the flames dance on his skin. Between his fingers like a shooting star shimmering through the stratosphere. A comet hitting the orbit of his body as it bursts to life among his flesh.

 A breath you never knew you were holding releases as waves his hands through the air, spinning the flames into different shapes. They grow brighter and brighter until you see the tips of white start to overtake the blue. It’s almost unbearably hot before he douses the flames, the top of your ceiling only slightly scorched from the display.

 “I’d say we’re even, dollface.” Dabi says nonchalantly and you blink up at the scorch marks in disbelief.

 “When did…?” you ask and turn your wide eyes back to him.

 He chuckles softly and examines his hand thoughtfully.

 “When you brought me back.”

 The essence of his life fed back into him returned his quirk? Is that honestly how it was supposed to work?

 “Oh.” you say softly, your chest growing tight.

 This means he leaves, right? He no longer needs to be around you. He has his quirk back, like he demanded.

 There’s no reason for him to stay.

 “It’s a different power level than I’m used to.” Dabi says offhandedly. “It’ll take adjusting to but damn is it a rush.”

 His low whistle cuts through your numbness. Heart thumping unpleasantly fast in your chest while you can barely hold a breath, you shovel more food into your mouth. You don’t taste it. It’s as if you were eating air for all that you can taste. All you can feel is the growing strain in your heart as it flutters like a bird in a cage. What was this weird feeling? Why is it here now, of all the times to show?

 “Any threads?” Dabi asks and you swallow your mouthful of food before you check.

 It takes a bit but sure enough when you summon your quirk- even just a hair- the thread thrums to life. You can feel your own rapid heartbeat meet a steadier one, the thumping feeling in your body echoing in your skull. In your fingers and toes, your bones humming with delight at the sensation. Eyes widening, you look up at Dabi who raises a brow and squints at the empty space between the two of you.

 “Can you… can you see it?” you gasp as you realize what it is he’s staring at.

 “No.” he shakes his head and shrugs as his fingers glide across the table and sweep up some stray pieces of rice. “I see you’re a messy eater, though.”

 Your blood rises to your face in a flash of heat at getting carried away and your mess. Trying to cover your own embarrassment you clear your throat and stare back at your food.

 “Oh. I thought you might have- I don’t know? Seen it? Felt it?”

 “Doesn’t that only work on your end?” he rests his head on a fist and watches you.

 “N-normally.” you nod. “I just thought-.. Nevermind. It’s probably just over excitement.” you sigh and stand from your chair.

 “Thank you for letting me eat that.” you mumble and carry your empty plate to the sink.

 You’ll do the dishes tomorrow. For now you need to be alone. Locked in your room and away from Dabi.

 Away from the world.

 “Goodnight.” you call from over your shoulder as you walk down the hall.

 The scrape of a chair across the wooden floor and his footsteps to follow you let you know your conversation isn’t over.

 “Nice try,” Dabi says and slides into the chair left by your bedside. “but we’re not done yet.”

 You cross your legs, leaning your back against the wall as you sit across from him. It should have been obvious he had more to say from the lack of commentary he had for your story. Even if you’re squirming with uncomfortable emotions he won’t let you go that easily. Despite the thoughts running through your mind like a cacophony of chaos. Too rapid, too disorganized.

 “What’s left to talk about?” you say quietly.

 You need him to direct the conversation. Need him to lead it away from your grasp, less you pilot it directly into the ground like a paraglider on fire.

 Dabi watches you, his unreadable turquoise eyes half lidded. You wish he would just tell you what he was thinking instead of you having to guess.

 “Look, Princess, there’s not much I’m gonna be able to do to keep the league away from you.”

 Him calling you a princess makes your heart stutter in your chest. Especially the way it rolls off his lips like silk. His silver tongue sickeningly sweet honeysuckle to your ears. It’s thick and warming, the desperate vibrating through your senses begging for more.

 His voice is a dangerous weapon. You’ve tasted him, sipped the wine of his lips and tongue. Taken part in the divine essence he oozes almost thoughtlessly. It’s seductive and beguiling, an enchantment of his soul on his skin to beckon you into his embrace. The combination of rough and soft, quiet and strong- it’s almost too much as you remember the feel of his hands. Pulling you closer to him as if he could drink you down to the last drop. A yearning that never fades but burns just as bright as his eyes do. You’re nauseous as you meet his eyes.

 But it’s not that he made you sick. Just his words.

 “It’s better for everyone if you stay as far away from them as possible.”

 “What?” you mumble and frown. “But you told them-”

 “I know what I said.” he interjects before you can finish and sighs. “I’ll tell them you lost your quirk or something. I’ll get them outta your hair but you’ll need to move.”

     Move?

 You blink once. Twice.

 He isn’t joking.

 “Why?”

 “They know where you live.” he shrugs and crosses his arms on the top of the back of the chair and rests his chin atop them. “Once I’m gone they’ll have no reason to track where you move to.”

 The sharp pain in your chest at the mention of him leaving washes away all of the good feelings he brought on earlier. Even if he’s saying it in that dreamy voice of his it still hurts like a burning knife in your gut. Twisting your organs until they’re shredding on the blade.

 Of course he’s going to leave. He has to. Isn’t that what you wanted? For him to leave and be out of your life for good?

 You debate on asking when he’s leaving but you can’t bring the words to your mouth. You can barely even think them without vomiting up your entire stomach. All that food you just ate will not be in vain. Shoving down any and all thoughts of barfing, you take a deep breath.

 As much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. You’ll need to move to remain hidden. That’s what you told him you wanted.

 It is what you want. You have to keep focused on your goals. Getting him out of your life is just step one.

 “Right.” you swallow and stare down at your hands.

 You can’t cry in front of him. Not again. Earlier you’d been sobbing in his arms and he’d held you. Hell, he kissed you. You haven’t forgotten that part. If you even could, that is. The memory is a phantom on your skin, a ghost along your ears as you can hear the hungry noise from the base of his throat. Of course, he’d only been starving for the energy you were giving him. Feeding him back what you took through your body and soul. With blood and spit and sweat you raised him back to where he had been before he’d even met you.

 It probably meant nothing to him. Just like it shouldn’t mean anything to you. But the fear of losing him, of having drained him down to nothing- that wasn’t a normal reaction. Sure if it were a stranger you’d still feel awful but something about him is wholly different. Is it because you’re attracted to him? Is it because the connection between you two is beyond what you’ve ever experienced?

 The thread is still there, humming with life between the two of you- although you know he can’t see or feel it. It would be nice if he could. Maybe he might understand why these emotions were surfacing for someone you barely even know. He might even feel them himself.

 But no. You know better than to dream of useless, silly things like that. They don’t exist outside of your mind. They can’t. It’s just not how it works. And at the end of the day reality is the only constant that remains true. It’s harsh and it’s unforgiving but you’ll be damned if it wasn’t one hundred percent truth.

 You dread his next words.

 “I’m leaving tomorrow. Our deal is done.” his words are too quiet. Or maybe you’ve stopped hearing him. They’re muddled and murky. Drowning in something that's stopping you from understanding.

 You don’t have to understand. You don’t need to. It just is.

 “So it is.” you whisper back and glance toward your door. “I need to sleep. Goodnight.”

 Dabi lets out a small sigh and stands from the chair, twirling it back toward your desk as he ambles toward your door. He stops in the doorway, his broad shoulders tensing for a moment as he glances over his shoulder.

 “Goodnight, angel.” he says softly and his lips quirk up to a smile as your face burns.

 The wink that follows doesn’t make it any better. His soft, almost inaudible, chuckle that he breathes out gives you goosebumps. Of course he knows how attractive he is. Why wouldn’t he? It’s a perfect opportunity to tease the ever living life out of you when you react to it.

 You sigh and slump down on your bed, staring up at the doorway as if you could make him reappear with just a thought.

 Tomorrow, then. At least you’d get to say goodbye.

 ++

 Dreams and nightmares evade you in slumber. Even though you can feel your body regenerate what it needs to, you don’t feel well rested when you wake. You’re groggy and sluggish. Worn out and aching to the bone.

 It’s gloomy outside your window, rain swelling in the large gray clouds above. It’s a brief misting that falls from the sky, though. No large drops of rain. No downpour. Only a mist that’s annoying enough to be an inconvenience.

 You yawn and make your way to the kitchen to cook something up. But as you reach the mouth of the hallway that lets into the kitchen and living area, you feel even worse.

 Dabi’s gone.

 He wasn’t in the bathroom when you passed by it. You recheck just to be sure.

 The living area with the couch and television is empty. No large body sprawled across it. No jacket hanging off the back of it. No boots laying by the front door.

 There isn’t even a note.

 Why would you let yourself believe he’d even leave one? He doesn’t care about you or these stupid feelings that are getting the best of you. Why should he? You killed him! Literally drained him right there on your living room floor. Like some kind of vicious and feral vampire.

 The tears at your eyes don’t feel right. Even as your heart is thudding sharply in your chest, painfully flopping like a depressed child. You should have known better than to get your hopes up with him. You weren’t even anything to him. You knew that.

 You know that.

 So why does it hurt so badly?

 The leftover dishes in the sink wait, their silence speaking legions of words of judgement as you pass by them and to the front door. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. A message? A note? For him to just be waiting outside it with that stupid cocky grin?

 But no. There’s nothing but misty rain aggravating your senses. The world is a shade of sickly brownish green. The discoloration of displeasure. Of rot and decay. Anger swells up in your nerves and you slam the door shut with more force than you should have.

 Of course he didn’t leave a goddamn note. You mean nothing to him. Nothing, nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. You were just means to an end. You brought him back and you housed him until he got what he wanted from you.

 The lack of company only makes the silence that much worse as you sit and eat cereal. The clock is ticking on the wall across from you, mist on the glass of your windows sputtering pathetically. It can’t even rain right on a day as awful as this one.

 You glance over at the couch where Dabi would have been had he not left without a single word. Are you imagining it as empty or has it always been that… lonely? Aloof and lacking?

 Has it always been just like you?

 How nice was the feeling of someone sprawled over every inch of your life that it made you feel so depressed without it? It hadn’t felt that great when he was here but with him now gone it only feels cold and sharp. Painful reminders that you’re a helpless, useless no one that nobody would miss. Even if he had killed you like he threatened when he was trying to intimidate you- he had a point. No one would find you for days because your silence in their lives is already so common. They wouldn’t think twice about it.

 Whatever. You don’t need people anyways. What do they do but cause pain and make more drama than you need in your life? Like Dabi. He was a threat to your nice, quiet lifestyle. Everything could have been ruined because of him and his stupidly beautiful eyes. And that annoyingly gorgeous cocky smirk he gives when he’s teasing you.

 The heat you feel is not from your anger but you only get angier from it. Feeling it in your body as it betrays the emotions you want to run freely. You don’t need Dabi. You don’t want Dabi.

 You’re better off without Dabi.

 Right?

 ++

 Work passes without anything interesting. Lively tries to talk about this new teacher she’s been seeing. Some kind of prohero that worked for UA, ‘Eraserhead’ or something dumb like that. You wish you could summon even an ounce of personality to engage in her one sided conversation but you can’t. You don’t have the energy to. It doesn’t matter how much you sleep. How much you eat. How much water you consume. Nothing is enough to take away the waves of exhaustion that push and pull through your soul and body.

 It’s starting to affect your work. As your boss temporarily suspends your schedule so you can ‘get yourself together’- as she put it- you find that you don’t even want to go home.

 There’s a battle a couple of blocks from your apartment. You don’t even think about going to help and heal. What’s the point? To make up for the wrongs you’ve done with Aysu and Dabi? Aysu’s dead. There’s nothing you can do to help her.

 Dabi said your deal was over with. You both got what you wanted. So that was more than made up for.

 Helping beyond what you already have is only asking for more trouble. You should know better than to use your quirk anymore. Look at what had happened when you lost your temper. Exposing anyone else to such a horror is a terribly selfish thing to do. It’s not that you even really helped to begin with, either. You played both sides in the hopes of seeming like you were an unbiased person.

 But you were really only doing it for you. To soothe your guilty conscience. You didn’t help out of any kindness. It isn’t a dream of yours. It was only ever to make yourself feel better about your existence.

 A bar sounds great right about now. You need a drink. Or four. Maybe not even alcohol.

 You tell yourself you’re getting drunk but you don’t. You just sit at the bar and sip on one drink. People buzz in and around you. That’s really why you’re here. Because you can’t stand to be alone. You can’t fathom the emptiness that opens the void in your soul at the silence of your house.

 This is the only way you know how to be around people without seeming absolutely pathetic. Like the real selfish, useless person you are. Here you can fake that you’re waiting for someone or whatever. That you’re not as sad and lonely as you really, really are.

 “Why the long face?” a voice drawls and you turn toward your left.

 Coming face to face with a man with a tattoo that covers his entire face. His skin is a sickly green but the tattoo only enhances this with lime lines swirling into the center. It’s a stranger pattern that makes you furrow your brows and he chuckles.

 “Let me guess,” he grins, “My face?” he motions towards his cheek and runs the back of his hand down it.

 “I don’t mean to stare.” you say plainly. “Sorry.”

 “No that’s why it’s there.” he chortles. “I wanted others to keep watching me. And looking at you with those magnificent eyes one me? Priceless. I’d do it all over again.”

 Oh god is he flirting with you? The cringe that seeps into your face is only slight as you scoot further away from the man, angling your body in the other direction as he leans forward.

 “You can call me Charlie.” he grins and extends a hand. “And you are…?”

 ‘Not interested?’ you think but sigh.

 “[Name].” you mutter and glance away from him.

 “A beautiful name!” he exclaims and places his hand over his heart. “May I buy you your next drink? See if I can brighten that sorrowful look of yours?”

 No. Nope. This man is too over the top and you’re done with it. Maybe you weren’t looking for any company. Just a specific someone's company. Not that you’re going to allow yourself to think of his name.

 Before you can deny the man he’s already signaled your refill. His grin is plastered across his face like a snake waiting in the grass. Poised, waiting. Striking is eventual and it’s only a matter of when.

 And if you can get out of the way in time.

 Ah well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, hm?

[schnoogles]

trapped (but not really)

written for

@jonsadungeonsanddrabbles

autumn drabble event!

Also posted on

Ao3

 She just finished counting down the till. October was always the busiest time of the year, even on Samhain. Although there are few in Wintertown who still participated in the religious practices of the holiday, everyone still celebrated. Sansa got her things and prepared to leave when it happened. A flash of bright white light filled up the room. The surprise of the light and the shadows it created scared her so badly she flinched back, hitting one of the coffee tables and dropping her things -that included coffee- to the floor.

“Shit,” she muttered, “What the hell was that?” Bonfires shouldn’t be starting for at least another hour. Even then, bonfires don’t have flashes like that, not even when some daring soul pours oil in it to watch the flames jump high. So that means it must’ve been mischievous children pulling pranks. Or maybe it was Arya and Rickon. She wouldn’t put it past them to somehow get their hands on halogen construction lights to flash her shop. They loved scaring her. Unfortunately, she heard a rumble. On no. It wasn’t a Samhain prank, it’s a storm.

Sansa quickly cleaned the spilt coffee and told herself she’ll mop it properly in the morning. She hated thunderstorms and wanted to get home. Another lightning bolt struck. This one alarmingly close and almost blue in color. Another loud bang followed. Shaking, she searched for her keys in her handbag, so she didn’t hear the crackling noises. Before she was able to open the front door, another loud crash. But this one wasn’t from the thunderstorm. No, this crash came in tandem with the large weirwood tree that now lied horizontally in front of the door. In front of her outward swinging door. Face to face with not just any weirwood, but a heart tree no less, Sansa let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Knowing the front door could no longer open, she rushed to the back. Robb still had her backdoor key so she wouldn’t be able to lock up properly, but fuck no was she going to stay here. She slammed open the back door. Or, she tried to. It barely made two inches open before something blocked it. No no no no. Peeking out the crack of the opened door, she saw what was blocking it: a giant dumpster bin, the one that doesn’t get emptied until tomorrow, so it’s completely full and nearly impossible for anyone without a garbage truck to move it. Nearly.

Retreating to the breakroom -because yes, in her floorplan designs she included a breakroom, but not doors that swing in instead of out- she took out her phone to call Robb, her mother, somebody.  

Dead phone.

“What the fuck?” What kind of shit luck did she have? She was sure she had her phone charging. Arya said it was- Sansa swore, “Arya!” Grabbing the landline, she began dialing before she remembered her parents cancelled their landline because no one used it, and she hadn’t bothered memorizing anyone else’s number because they changed so often. Then she remembered. Jon hasn’t changed his number for as long as I’ve known him. Quickly she dialed. __

“Where’s Sansa?” Robb looked over to him.

Jon shrugged, “I dunno, probably already at Torrhen’s Square for the festival? Everything got moved to the mansion when the rain started and Arya said she was meeting us there.”

“Alright, well I’m gonna pick up Talisa. Sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m sure. Now get outta here, your lady awaits,” Jon joked. He still had some work to do before joining everyone for the night’s festivities.

A few minutes after Robb left, Jon got a call.

“Hello?”

“Jon! Thank the gods you answered. Please come to my shop! The thunderstorms- it- they- then everything went dark. Power’s out and a weirwood fell over and the dumpster is blocking the other one and-” he could hear Sansa crying over her babbling. She sounded utterly terrified.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold on Sansa, slow down. What happened?”

“I’m trapped in my coffee shop, please come get me,” she begged.

Jon swore, “Alright hang tight. I’ll be there in less than ten.”

Grabbing his coat and keys, Jon rushed out. __

With Jon on the way, Sansa calmed down enough to make herself another pot coffee. She needed something to do. Sitting by the empty fireplace with a warm drink in hand, she waited.

“Sansa?” Jon climbed over the tree and jumped down to the door.

“Jon! I’m in here!” Sansa stood up and waved towards Jon through the glass door.

With all the strength he could muster, Jon moved a particularly heavy branch of the tree out of the way, opened the door, and slipped in. Opening his mouth to speak, he was cut short when Sansa flung herself at him. Not sure if it was adrenalin or the pot of coffee she just drank, but her heart was racing as she clung harder to Jon.

“Hey hey hey, calm down love, you’re safe, I’m here.” Rubbing her back in soothing circles, Sansa’s breathing evened.  He kissed her forehead and pulled back, “There, all better.” Smiling softly at her, he pushed her hair back and wiped her tears. “How ‘bout we get you outta here?”

Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Maybe it was the way he was always the one coming to her rescue. Maybe it was just them standing in the dark in such close proximity. Whatever the reason, she cupped his face and kissed him. Hard. Breathing heavily, Sansa pulled back and looked into Jon’s -now darkened- eyes. Before either one could say anything, they heard a crack. Another part of the weirwood snapped off and completely blocked off the door and covered the windows.

They both swore. “Shit.”

[franklyshipping]

Defining Androids (Sequel to “The Self-Proclaimed Unflusterables (Part 4) - Defining Humanity”) ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

WOOOOOO IT’S SEQUEL TIME BABYYYY FROM A WONDERFUL ANON WHO HAS PROMPTED IT, LETS GET SOME ROMANCE ON WOOOOHOOOO LET’S DO IT!

TAGGING: @goog-ler-iplier @bingylee and @bingy-switch

Google Blue huffed. He enjoyed working with technology, for there was always more to learn and adapt to and develop and create, but sometimes it could also be so mundane and tedious. Like the security cameras inside the Ego Manor for instance. No matter how many upgrades Blue would make to them, they would still always be in the habit of breaking down, and on this occasion the fix was requiring so much more effort. Blue was having to go into the wire-strewn mainframe that controlled everything in the manor so that he could isolate the specific electrical fault and fix it, meaning he was lying on his back, on the floor under a desk, arms and head deep in wiring as he tried to find the cause of the irritating issue. Such a task is made even more irritating when you have someone hovering near you being an annoyance rather than helpful.

‘Have you found the fault yet?’

‘No. Just like when I answered you 72 seconds ago Bing.’

Blue replied curtly, gritting his teeth as he tried to refocus on the nest of wires he was investigating….of course though, Bing was still incredibly interested in what Blue was doing. He was sat beside Blue’s legs and was trying to peer in, his burnt orange eyes looking curiously as he spoke again.

‘D’ya reckon it’s just one wire that’s gone funky?’

Blue sighed. A long, long sigh.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what the problem is yet, because I have not found it. Once I find it, I assure you that you will be the first person to know.’

For the next twenty minutes or so, Blue kept on searching for the problem at hand. And despite all of Bing’s constant questions and aimless distracting conversation, eventually Blue managed to find it. It was annoyingly simple too, just a wire that had somehow unplugged itself. It took Blue a second to plug it in before running some remote diagnostics to see that all was well, and he sighed gratefully when he saw that the problem was fixed. He cleared his throat and called out.

‘Bing please make sure you are a little way away so that I can get myself out.’

‘No probs dude, you got plenty room!’

Bing replied as he shuffled back on his butt, and Blue grunted as he started to wriggle out, and soon his torso was completely out from under the desk….but then….Blue was forced to stop. Bing furrowed his eyes brows as he heard Google curse and mutter under his breath.

‘Uh, you good man?’

Blue had his teeth gritted in annoyance, because good is not how he would describe his current situation. His forearms and biceps were stuck above his head, entangled in thick wiring that was keeping the android trapped under the desk as a result. His arms and head were still beneath the desk, and Blue huffed as he replied.

‘I’m perfectly fine, just a bit tangled, I’ll be just fine.’

He tried wiggling and carefully bending his elbows, but as minute after minute passed the tangled wiring just did not want to co-operate and untangle itself! Meanwhile Bing was lying on his stomach and trying to look under the desk, cocking his head as he asked.

‘Dude you’re lookin’ real stuck under there-oh!’

Bing jumped to his feet suddenly, smiling and exclaiming with what was a completely spontaneous idea.

‘I’ll get Wilford to help! Remember that time when he just magicked himself outta ropes with the detective? He’ll know how to get ya out!’

‘Wait-Bing no wait!’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can!’

‘BING!’

Blue called out, but he heard Bing’s footsteps hurry from the room, and immediately Blue felt embarrassed warmth coming to his face. Of all people. Of ALL people why did Bing have to go with Wilford?! Why not the Host with his reality bending narrations, that would have been far more logical! Blue knew Wilford was good at escapism….but the thought of Wilford seeing him trapped and vulnerable was so embarrassing, particularly given how Blue felt about Wilford. Okay….now Blue was actually glad that his face was hidden right now, especially when he then heard two sets of footsteps enter the room.

‘My, my, what do were have here?’

Blue felt himself smile unwittingly at the sound of Wilford’s warbling voice, and the android cleared his throat as he replied.

‘Good afternoon Wilford, I assume Bing has ah….briefed you on the situation?’

Wilford softly chuckled. The moustached man paced over, his eyes flicking over the armless, headless body laid out on the floor. Wilford nibbled his lip lightly, since he thought Blue looked rather adorable all trapped like this.

‘He has indeedy, but fear not! I’m not going to let my favourite android stay stuck, no offense Bingy.’

Wilford added, which made Bing snort and reply with a grin.

‘Noho probs man, Bluey really likes your company too.’

Blue’s eyes widened. As soon as he was out of here, he was definitely going to kill Bing. Wilford gasped brightly at Bing’s words, and put his hand to his chest as he exclaimed.

‘Oh really? Oh Blue you’re too sweet!’

Blue felt more warmth come to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat embarrassedly.

‘Yes, well, ahem…..if you wouldn’t mind Wilford, I don’t quite enjoy being stuck like this-‘

‘Oh! Yes of course, my apologies, I’ll sort ya out!’

Wilford exclaimed, clapping his hands together as he got on the floor next to Blue’s body. Bing smiled at the scene. Seeing Wilford smiling and looking at Blue so affectionately, and so Bing decided now was the time to leave the pair of them to themselves.

‘Right ah, I’ll go make some double checks on all the cameras, see you guys later.’

With that, Bing left, and Blue was left tense. Especially when he felt Wilford softly pat his stomach, which he was unable to even see a sliver of.

‘So uh, have ya wiggled as much as ya can wiggle under there?’

Blue flinched and cleared his throat, shivering at the feeling of Wilford touching him. Not just because it was Wilford, but also because….well….he was a particularly sensitive android.

‘A-Aha….yes I d-do think so….’

Wilford furrowed his brows at the sound of Blue’s stammers, flicking his eyes down to where he had his hand resting on Blue’s torso. Blue’s vulnerable, and rather…..attractively enticing torso. Wilford’s lips spread into a smile, and his trailed his fingertips over Blue’s stomach as he teased playfully.

‘Oh well now…..I think you might be able to wriggle just a little bit more….’

Blue’s eyes widened, and he started squirming and spluttering as he realised what Wilford was going to do. His face was the brightest turquoise imaginable.

‘N-Now Wilford th-thihis is completely u-uhunecessary! J-Just h-help mehe!’

‘But I am helping you! Nothing like a good tickle to help loosen everything up!’

Blue was squirming and giggling breathily, and then ended up gulping as he felt Wilford’s fingertips absently trail down to his hips. The threat near one of his tickle spots made him jolt and exclaim out of instinct.

‘W-Wihilford plehease!’

Wilford was grinning, he just found Blue so damn endearing and adorable right now, and at seeing Blue’s jolt, he decided he’d built the anticipation enough.

‘Please what? Please hurry and get me un-stuck? But of course!’

Blue then let out a rather un-Blue squeal as Wilford started scratching at both his hips, making him descend into giggles and buck haphazardly as he replied frantically.

‘N-Nohohoho W-Wihihilfohord Wihihilford nohohot thihihis!’

‘Trust me, this is tried and tested methodology! You’ll get free….eventually.’

Wilford chortled as he pinched Blue’s hips, making the android squeeze his eyes shut with embarrassment. His sensors were frantic. His programmed defensive instincts were just yelling at him to yank his arms free, and yet the rest of him was going wild with joy at the fact that he was being tickled and teased by the man he had romantic feelings for! That part of his system was having too much fun to fight back, meaning Blue was going absolutely haywire with….well, everything.

‘Thihihihis ihihis cruhuhuel!’

Wilford chuckled, still pinching the android’s hipbones as he replied.

‘Jeheez Bluey, and people say I’m dramatic!’

Blue snorted through his giggles, and ended up retorting with an attitude that he was perhaps going to regret. You couldn’t blame him though, the poor guy couldn’t form a coherent thought right now.

‘Ahahahall yohou knohow ihihis drahamatism!’

Though it was a retort, in Blue’s view this was a secret compliment. One of the things he loved about Wilford was how intensely his felt and expressed things. Wilford was the most emotional human that Blue had ever known, and he loved it. Of course, Wilford felt it was a compliment too, since he always loved being the most dramatic and open person he could possibly be. However, he was also looking for any excuse to tickle his-….ahem, the sensitive android beneath him even more….and this was the perfect excuse.

‘Now that isn’t a very nice thing to say to someone giving ya a helping hand! Two in fact!’

Wilford exclaimed in mock offense, before suddenly starting to squeeze Blue’s fleshy sides. The android squawked and jerked about as he burst into deep, rumbly laughter. And since he couldn’t bring himself to actually fight Wilford off, all he could do was retort as best he could.

‘AHAHA Y-YOHOHOUR HAHANDS AHARE H-H-HIHINDRANCES!’

Wilford raised an eyebrow as he replied with a grin.

‘Hindrances huh? And to think I thought you’d appreciate my help!’

Wilford continued squeezing Blue’s sides, keeping him encased in laughter as his arms weakly twisted this way and that. His love of the tickling made his struggles weak, but also Blue had the background thought of not wanting to accidentally cause a manor-wide power-cut by yanking out a million wires.

‘TIHIHICKLIHING IHISNT HEHEHELPIHING!’

Blue exclaimed, still determined to maintain the façade of his displeasure at the situation. However, people should really give more credit to Wilford….because he could be incredibly observant. Wilford hummed in thought, before he started to smile. He’d always wanted to tease Blue. He was so intrigued by the android, and in fact….Wilford had to admit that he was rather attracted to him, so to be this close and playful with him was something Wilford absolutely adored. And even better…not only did Wilford intend to tease him….but he intended to tease him with the adorable truth that he had just now realised.

‘Hmm, maybe it’s not helping because you don’t want it to….maybe you like being trapped like this….’

Wilford relented on Blue’s sides as he trailed off, his fingertips now moving to scarcely tap at Blue’s ribs. As Wilford’s words swirled in his hard drive mind, Blue froze, and started stuttering in flustered incredulity.

‘I-I-Ihi….th-….th-thahat’s p-p-prepohosterous…..’

‘Oh is it now? See, now I think about it….you’re one of the strongest people I know, frankly I’d bet you’re the strongest. You could get outta this yourself easily. And though it’d give ya more wirin’ to fix later….if ya really wanted to get outta here, you could rip your arms free without breakin’ a sweat.’

Blue was a mess of shivers from Wilford’s truthful teasing, and the fact that Wilford had managed to deduce this all from Blue only flustered him even more. Wilford in general made Blue flustered, but his intelligence and cleverness made those feelings really peak inside the android. Blue knew he couldn’t convince Wilford otherwise, he was at a flustered, vulnerable loss. All he could do, as Wilford’s teasing fingertips curled against his ribs, was meekly fib. And it was the most endearing thing Wilford had ever heard in his life.

‘I-I d-dohon’t know whahat you’re tahalking about….’

Wilford was so ecstatic! Blue was actually enjoying this, but he was too embarrassed to admit it! Wilford chuckled, and his brown eyes gleamed with affection at Blue’s ticklish flinching as he kept curling and uncurling his fingers playfully.

‘You’re really not gonna admit it huh? Ya sure you wanna go down this road?’

Blue gulped….but ultimately, yes, he absolutely wanted to go down this road.

‘….thehere is….nothing toho admit….’

Blue gasped out, which made Wilford smirk, and purr with complete glee.

‘Oh we’ll see about that.’

Thus without any more warning than that, Wilford scratched and vibrated his fingers against Blue’s ribs, making Blue shriek and burst into howls of wide-eyed laughter.

‘AHHHHH!! NAHAHAHA WIHIHILFAHAHAHA!!’

‘Coochie coochie cooo! Who’s a cute tickle-lovin’ android? I think it’s yooou Bluey-boo!’

Blues eyes were getting watery as he trembled and thrashed, Wilford’s taunting really getting to him now. His tangled, restrained arms were twitching and shaking, his instinct to fight back getting stronger now by the second.

‘NAHAHAHAHA SHUHUHUHAHAHAAAASSHH!!’

Blue’s howls of laughter were mixed in with flustered whines, which made Wilford snicker affectionately, loving how Blue was such a mirthful mess.

‘Ya ready to come out from under there yet, or d’ya want some more?’

Blue squealed as Wilford’s fingers then drilled into his upper-most ribs, and this was what ended up breaking the android.

‘NAHAHAAAAAA!!!’

Amidst Blue’s shriek, Wilford’s eyes widened as he also heard crackling and popping sounds coming from underneath the desk….and then all of a sudden, everything just went black. Then, before Wilford could even fathom what had happened, he found himself being pinned to the ground of all things! His arms were pinned above his head, but as he looked up to see a panting Blue, whose azure eyes were now the only light source in the room, Wilford understood. The moustached man grinned playfully, purring teasingly.

‘So…..upper ribs are a good spot huh?’

‘Shuhut…up….’

Wilford giggled as Blue continued to pant, but he felt a warm jitter in his chest when he squinted and managed to see the smile on the android’s face. He raised a playful eyebrow up at him.

‘How many wires d’ya reckon ya yanked out there?’

Blue pursed his lips embarrassedly, and muttered.

‘Ihi do not know, I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘I noticed, enjoying yourself that much huh?’

Blue felt like his face was going to combust, and averted his gaze as he muttered bashfully.

‘Shush….’

Wilford grinned affectionately, before cocking his head up at the android as his curiosity reared its head now.

‘Though, what I don’t get is how ya managed to fight back those fighty instincts of yours for so long. I mean, I love being tickled as much as the next ego, but I couldn’t have lasted that long! Was it because ya didn’t wanna cause a power cut? Is it a special android thing?’

At Wilford’s questions, Blue nibbled his lip. He looked down at Wilford, seeing his interest and how much he….cared….and Blue was struck by a desire. A desire to tell the truth. So, in the softest voice imaginable….he did just that.

‘…it was you….’

Wilford froze, gazing up at Blue with wonder, and bashfulness as he started to realise things. Wilford felt his heart beating faster when Blue locked eyes with him and whispered.

‘I-….I-I only liked it that much….because it was you doing it….’

Wilford’s heart was truly pounding, and he started to smile. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. In a whisper of his own, he replied, because he wanted to be sure.

‘Why…..Blue, tell me why….’

Blue felt like he was about to light up with sparks at how nervous and jittery he was…but he didn’t want to hide any of this anymore.

‘Because….I like you Wilford. I like you in a different way than I like other humans….people-….anyone, in fact.’

Wilford had never grinned so fast in his life.

‘Well, I like you….more than I like other humans too.’

Blue smiled bashfully at that, and then felt an instinct rise in his system, so he simply followed it. He kissed Wilford….and Wilford kissed back. Blue released Wilford’s arms as they kissed each other, and amidst it they ended up sitting up and wrapping their arms around each other. When they finally parted they were both softly panting, before Wilford cleared his throat and looked around a tad.

‘The uh….the power-‘

‘My brothers are more than capable of fixing everything.’

Wilford grinned at Blue’s oh so prompt reply, and chuckled playfully.

‘Well, in that case….’

Blue spluttered and laughed when Wilford suddenly stood up and picked him up in a bridal style hold, but instead of Blue feeling humiliated, he felt undeniable happiness. It came about in a rather unusual manner, certainly, but it came about anyway, which is the most important thing. And sometimes, all you need is a friend around who’ll act more oblivious than he actually and maybe unplug a camera wire to set a scene. Perhaps….behind every great couple, there’s a mischievous, loving friend.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS SEQUEL LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 16: Trip - The Green Sun Project Chap.9: Zone Bound Like A Ghostly Basset Hound

Danny needs to get a little more connected with his Zone.

The next thing Danny does is look around. Actually going into the Zone wasn’t really something people did. Considering the very air and literally all surfaces were pure ectoplasm, it wasn’t exactly safe for human travel.

Glancing around, not surprised at all the green just everywhere. ‘Huh, very green’, patting his chest, ‘thanks a shit ton for that save by the way. We should, uh, not stay in one place though. And this place is super not human safe, so if my body starts doing not fun stuff, you need to get me outta here’.

Getting a loud whine, ‘deadly?’ and soft accepting hum in response.

Danny nods his head and starts looking around for a landmass. Keeping the invisibility up and floating slowly once he spots one. ‘For a normal human, yeah. But if my idea that you can make me able to handle ectoplasm is right, then I should be totally fine. The Zone, here, is pure ectoplasm. Not as strong as what’s in ghosts or what you’re made outta, but still’. Swallowing and whispering, “normally any humans who come here wear full-body anti-ecto hazmat suits. Like what my parents’ wear all the time”, lifting up and glancing at a bare-skinned hand, “I should really be in a ton of pain right now. Like what I got from your green tendrils. Well, little less immediate than that”. His Core giving a worried whine; Danny just pats his chest comfortingly.

It doesn’t take long to make it to the little island, Danny poking the ground cautiously with his shoe before shrugging and landing on it. ‘If my folks ever find out about this, they’re gonna make me burn my clothing. What with how insanely contaminated they are by now’. Earning some bubbling from his Core.

It also doesn’t take much wandering to figure out that the island is not only small but most likely uninhabited. Meaning probably safe to crash on for a bit. Also noticing in this time, that his body feels kinda good, which is weird. It was kinda like he was getting a very faint full body massage with nice oils or something. Feeling it even on and in his bones, muscles, and Core. Though he’s not surprised by the constant slight tingle of sensing all the ectoplasmic energy around. Vaguely noting how it was stronger near things that logically had more ectoplasm.

Sighing and sitting to lean against a tree, decidedly one that felt lower in ectoplasm, grumbling a little, “Sam and Tuck are probably worried by now”, and flipping out his phone. Groaning at it, “no bars or internet, figures”. ‘Any clue what’s up with my body feeling nice? Is it just cause this place is technically part of you?’.

‘Only change absorbing ectoplasm’

‘Heh, must be on a pretty massive level then. Still weird’. Leaning his head back against the bark and closing his eyes. Guess he shouldn’t be surprised that his body liked absorbing ectoplasm, probably feeding his Core in a way. Yawning a little. ‘Hey, I think I’m gonna sleep for a bit. Make sure to wake me and feel free to yank me around if a ghost approaches us, okay?’. Grinning to himself over the soft hum.  

-

Danny’s not even slightly surprised to get awoken very suddenly. He somehow doubts those ghosts would just give up. Would make his life easier though.

‘COMING. Eye child’

‘Alright. Okay. Not good’. Turning to fly off he’s also not surprised to nearly crash right into the scythe-wielding ghost that just appeared out of nowhere; who also looks to have a stick now, with something that looks like a ‘CW’ and a tiny clock on it. Not even getting a chance to back off as his body just freezes in the air.

“I’m afraid the Observants believe you a threat to the Realms, Daniel. And the future seen hardly disagrees”. A mirror shaped something forming next to the ghost and flashing through scenes of destruction.

‘I- what?- that won’t?’. His Core just making some strange warbling static thing that he can’t make sense of. The ghost doesn’t hesitate or explain further before ramming the scythe through his back, it feels like all his veins are immediately on fire and he can both see and feel green electricity arching over his skin. Watching his Core get physically shoved out of his chest, blue and white tendrils tense and clearly trying to hold on to him before fizzing and snapping off.

A verifiable horde of Observants appears, one moving to slide the Core off the top on the scythe and cup it, while Danny collapses onto the small island; wheezing and a pool of blood forming around his chest from the hole speared through it. ‘Ah shit... this is so.. not how I saw this coming’. Sure he never expected to live very long but graduating would have been nice. Though he can appreciate the comedic value of being offed by a scythe of all things. Wielded by a ghost. That’s got to count for some kind of jokester prestige. Right? And hey, he will probably be the first human to actually die here. Oh he’s so totally going to wind up a ghost.  

Man, Sam and Tuck are going to be pissed.

-

The scythe-wielding ghost quirks an eyebrow and gives an almost inaudible pleased hum while the Observants back off as the Zone Core immediately starts vibrating wildly, making horribly unpleasant static and growling sounds; as if an entire pack of hellhounds were nipping at their heels over the backdrop of a static tv screen turned well past a-hundred. All of them covering their ears and hunching over, the Observants pupils widening when the Zone Core discharges massive amounts of green electricity in every direction.

“WHAT!”, none getting to say more than that as they all start getting speared and shocked, causing massive amounts of damage. The scythe-wielding ghost the only one successfully avoiding it, though the ectoplasmic air everywhere is becoming charged itself and is something utterly unavoidable.

“Well, this changes things”. They poof and appear looming over Danny, who’s still alive enough to glance at them, “it seems you are quite the unusual one. You’ve taken a path with less than one percent possibility of happening. The Observants, they believe only they, beings inherently incapable of biases, can control the Core without becoming a danger to the Realms. Without becoming power-hungry. The logical would find that quite a narrow-minded view to hold. Would it not be preferred to have one who cares? One who protects, guides, and teaches. Over ones who only watch?”, the ghost grins as some rocks get blown apart by a zap of lightning, “I think we may be of use to each other. To answer some of your questions, I, am ClockWork”, and poofs away, reappearing by the Zone Core; while Danny’s barely consciously widens his eyes. ‘A myth...’. Then passes out, his chest falling and not rising back up.

Many of the Observants glance at each other as the fabric of the Zone begins to shake. Glancing and seeming to squint at ClockWork’s sudden movement. One speaking up, “what are you doing. You’ve fulfilled your duties, now leave”, their voice sounding full of power and command.

“I’m afraid that is not what this one wants”, and raises their scythe over their head, the blade pointed away from the Zone Core.

“ClockWork!-”, the Observants get cut off by loud static drowning everything out and ClockWork slamming the side of the scythe on the Zone Core, sending It shooting down back towards Danny. It immediately ceasing the lightning and static, exploding with tendrils that squirm over the entire island trilling loudly all the while. ClockWork floating to be between them and the horde of Observants, a slight smirk across their face.

The Observants look from the Zone Core to ClockWork, one holding up a finger, “this is your fault now. What happens, you are responsible for it. And you will take the fall for it”.

“Yes. And you will merely observe. Nothing more. As you were meant to. Pariah is gone, and you are hardly replacements”.

“You plan to-”, the Observant not getting to finish as chunks of the island seemingly get pelted at them. Effectively forcing them to flee; unable to tolerate any more damage. As while they were something of a force to be reckoned with as a group, individually they were far less durable than ones like ClockWork.

-

Danny hacks and coughs, jerking to curl up in on himself and feeling like his ribs were being squeezed by a very aggressive anaconda. Groaning over the other feeling like lead was attempting to move through his veins. There’s no way he could even lift up his arm right now and he’s got no clue what the vaguely squirming blanket thing over him is. Blinking, he can barely even attempt at actually thinking words. Mostly it was just ‘ow’ and ‘ah’ and ‘fuck’.

Sucking in a breath as that almost gnawing emptiness in his chest gets practically slammed with weight and fullness and energy and power. It’s so much that he almost passes out again from it.

“You need to calm down, you’re overwhelming the poor boy”. Danny blinks over the vaguely familiar voice, though he can’t even begin to place it at the moment. But the squirming does slow down a little and the pressure in him feels less all-consuming. Wheezing a bit and actually managing to push himself up with his one arm after a bit, blinking at the purple cloaked smirking ghost before cringing and glancing to his chest. ‘Right. Core. Little...Star?’.

Flinching a little at the very loud, ‘HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME’ that’s so intense it’s almost gibberish to him.

The cloaked ghost hums, “the Zone Core has never been exposed properly to the Zone. As such It seems quite inexperienced in how to manage so much raw energy without the body of a mortal to filter it. And It expelled a very large amount of Its latent energy attacking us”, the ghost grins, “now I could take you two somewhere to expel the raw It doesn’t yet know to handle and gather ecto-energy that is more... suitable for your living body”.

Danny wheezes a little, muscles spasming, and feeling the vibration of invisibility coming and going; pretty sure neither him nor his Core is really in control of that. “So... you’re, not going, to off, me?”. The ghost -ClockWork, right? And wasn’t that a mind fuck they were supposed to be some kind of ghost god myth- nods before changing to look like a toddler and floating close to his face, “far be it for me to deny the Zone Core Its cores desires. To see It doing as It was, It would have depleted Itself for the one It cares for. Risk everything for the one It calls home. And I find it unlikely that you would do any differently. So, do you not deserve a chance?”.

Danny just blinks, this was probably the most positive interaction with a ghost he could imagine. A bunch of ghosts just had a spat over him. Oddly, he wonders what his parents would say. How they would try to explain this. Regardless he nods gently, fighting against the stiff tautness in his neck. The now adult ghost picking him up and practically cradling him. ‘No one is ever going to believe this. Ever. Ever. Literally the only ghost I could run into more extreme than this is freaking Pariah or a ViralHelm. But... I’d be super super dead’.

‘No. Never. STAY’

‘Little guy, I have zero intention of being around either of them. Or dying honestly. Ow’.

ClockWork chuckles very faintly, Danny decides against asking. The fact that every inch of him still feels like hot garbage only encourages that. Though he can’t help but whisper in awe, “woah”, when he sees where they’re going. A massive flowering plain covered in flowers of all different kinds and shapes, with glows that somehow shimmered, a red aroma wafting off the place and smelling like sweet succulent heaven. Him sniffing and leaning forward out of ClockWork’s arms, though wincing a bit at his Core vibrating and seemingly trying to pull him forward. Everything around It felt so raw. It honestly probably was raw. ‘Please stop pulling. You’re hurting me’

‘Want. HUNGRY’

‘I know. But I feel, like you’re gonna pull, yourself out of me’. That seemed to be enough to get the little guy to calm down some. Probably really heavily against the idea of being separated at the moment. Though to be fair, he was too. He still leans forward a bit more though, pointedly ignoring the tendrils hanging out over his skin; at least it didn’t hurt. He’s just going to assume they weren’t sinking in because of the full of raw ecto thing. Did his Core just not know how to process the Zones energy yet? Or was it because of him?

He mentally cuts himself off as ClockWork sets him down on the ground, kneeling and hands moving practically not of their own accord and jerky to cup one of the little flowers. ClockWork speaking as he shoves the flower in his mouth, it exploding like a fruit gusher and making him outright moan from the sweet thick white chocolate flavour and texture. “This is the Defted Plains. The epicentre of the Zone, if any place is the true point of origin for the Zone Core it is here, and the ectoplasm here is ultimately what the purified Zone core ectoplasm was pulled from to make the Zone Core”. Danny’s barely paying any attention as he rips up more of the flowers, stuffing them into his mouth more than a little eagerly. Though noting the tendrils around him are lifted off him a bit and stabbing into the ground; more flowers growing, uncurling, and popping open around them. And the pulsing going on in his chest is more than a little weird.

Side-eyeing ClockWork as they shift to a child and move to sit on his shoulder, obviously uncaring about him practically tearing up the ground and flowers like a starved animal, “while this may be replenishing the Zone Core, it is doing little for your own healing. The Zone Core will have to do that for you Itself. And I’m afraid there are certain complications that Maddie and Jack failed to grasp”, Danny can feel the back of that scythe pressing up against his back, “that a Core needs to be connected to provide support”, then pushing him at the ground; him immediately slipping through the ground like it was butter.

Danny can’t see anything other than himself and he appears to be glowing, and the tendrils, he can’t so much as twitch a finger but watching the tendrils shoot off him and seem to connect to something somewhere and becoming taut sticking out of him from his chest. ‘Alright. Okay, somethings going on here and I have no idea what. But... are you okay?’, feeling like all of his insides are squishing themselves or something, ‘oh Zone I’m hungry’, he’d really like to be able to swallow or anything right now, ‘this is your hunger I’m feeling right?’.

‘Some much-everything-is. Home fine. Here happy-mine’. Danny’s skin twitching violently is the closest he can get to shuddering from the harsh vibrations and nuzzling; hearing deep humming bordering on a purr that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere.

Danny doesn’t even get a chance to try responding to that, he’s pretty sure his Core is having a fair few issues ‘thinking’, as he feels like a video game cartridge that just got clicked into place and eyes mentally widening at the blackness being overtaken by being able to just see everything seemingly expanding out from him. He can see the edges of the Zone like he’s there but also not? It makes zero sense, but whatever that’s just his life, existence, whatever, now.

Then nearly vomiting from everything just seemingly snapping back inside him and rolling over on the little flowering plain area. The Defted Plains ClockWork called it? Grinning slightly more than a little aware of the thick heavy wetness in his limbs again. He’d gotten used to it but still, blinking at still being able to see, like, everything but it was like colourful static spiky wavy energy and was really in the background to what he’s actually seeing around him. ‘Mind trip holy shit. A druggie would be jealous of this, damn. At least I can tell what’s actually in front of me’ closing his eyes, he could still see the static energy stuff behind his eyelids, ‘fuck. This is a lot’. Sighing a little at the soft apologetic sounding whine. ‘It’s fine it’s fine. Just gotta give me a bit to deal’, swallowing, ‘so this is you huh? All of you? The Zone?’

‘Mine. Yes. Part of. Home more mine. Part home too’.

‘Alright cool. Guess the Zone’s part of me more than just having its Core. I can just feel the existential crisis coming’. That gets him some bubbling laughter, which makes him smile even if he still feels tired and so doesn’t want to get up.

Danny twitches a jerk at the sound of ClockWork’s voice startling him, “I would encourage you to head home. Before any curious ghosts come to check you out. You, or more so the Zone Core, is quite a big deal after all”.

Danny sighs and slowly pushes himself up, that action alone making him feel exhausted, “ghosts coming after me is going to be common bullshit for me now, isn’t it? And do I seriously seem like I’ve got the energy to be going anywhere?”, oh he can feel the sarcasm dripping off that.

ClockWork smirks, “that would be telling, wouldn’t it”, floating closer and jabbing his chest with their staff, “you may find yourself tired but the Zone Core hardly is, Daniel. Or should I call you Phantom?”, grinning, “no I think I won’t”.

Danny actually chuckles over that, he thinks he kinda likes this ghost. Looking down to his chest, “well? Feel like doing the portal shit again? You’re gonna have to puppet me around though, ‘cause my muscles feel like rubber”. He thinks ClockWork grins a little at that but when he looks they’re gone. His Core does bubble and crackle a little though, even if there’s a slight whine. Obviously little guy felt bad for all this, which yeah, he fucking died for a while there he’s pretty sure. Regardless he doesn’t fall over when his arms jerk out and the taut threads stabbing his bones feeling starts up, a portal swirling open; his body seemingly flinging itself through it. Landing on the sidewalk in front of his house, just outside of the shield around FentonWorks. Which he absolutely groans over. It’s also dark out. Which, fuck him, everyone was probably freaking out about his sudden MIA status.

Hence why he’s totally unsurprised when his parents and friends all run out to him. ‘Ah they probably thought my parents did some experiment thing on me or that I maybe got abducted by the G.I.W.. Nice to know they’d come running to my defence without hesitation’. His Core softly humming a happy agreement.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

can you please do prompt #24? i also wanna say that i love all of your work and you’re an amazing writer !

Thanks very much to both of you for two great prompts, which, as @spiderman-homecomeme pointed out to me, make so much sense to combine!!

12. We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

24. You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

our love is a bagel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word count: 6395

Summary:

Thanks to a (mortifying) freak accident, Peter Parker comes back into Michelle's life, nine years after their high-school breakup. And this encounter isn't a one-time thing; it looks like she'll be seeing more of him. He's already seen way too much of her.

The windows are painted shut. Even if MJ wanted to open them, the semi-historic status of her walk-up forbids it. She might’ve given them a testing press when she moved in two years ago, but she hasn’t fucked with them since and assumes they’re basically immovable.

She discovers they aren’t when Sadie thrusts into her so hard that the damn thing swings open with a pop! to leave MJ dangling over the sill, four floors above street level.

Naturally, she screams.

So she’s screaming and naked and falling out a window and because the situation’s so dire, Sadie’s trying to hug her closer to pull her back in. Of course, she’s still wearing the damn strap-on, meaning MJ’s screams are alternating in tone a little as the other woman’s hips slam into hers. They’re both slick with sweat and the only rational thought that manages to enter MJ’s mind is that she never should’ve given in to Sadie’s slight kink for exhibitionism and braced her hands against that fucking windowpane.

Her heart’s pounding and everything’s slanting from embarrassing to urgent and, of course, in this city, that’s when Spider-Man usually shows up. Which he does. But he doesn’t come swinging across the skyline or climbing up the wall on his fingertips. The window next door bangs open and he scrambles out, darts sideways, maybe hesitates a split-second in shock (she’s too panicked to be sure), then catches MJ around the waist. The only fortunate thing is that, in the moment of rescue where he tussles against gravity, Sadie’s dildo slips out of her, meaning there’s less to be mortified about. There’s just her total nudity, the visible slipperiness on her thighs, and, of course, her fuck-buddy standing there with a sex toy coated in MJ’s arousal. Besides those things, it’s a completely comfortable situation in which to run into an ex-boyfriend after nine years of silence.

Only she can’t acknowledge that she knows him. Not as Peter Parker. She and Sadie hook up in a way that’s casual but also somewhat regular―enough that Sadie knows to bring the dildo with the circular grooves and MJ preps by filling both of her ice cube trays, but not nearly enough to ever warrant giving away Peter’s secret. She wouldn’t. She lacks the motivation. Things didn’t end badly so much as abruptly when they realized they’d be attending colleges in two different states and that neither of them was really mature enough to commit to long distance at the start of such a monumentally new stage of their lives. So Peter’s just the neighbourhood hero (when did he move back?) and Sadie’s the blonde in the grey cotton bra (they haven’t gotten to the part where MJ runs ice cubes over her nipples yet) and the gooey strap-on. Two strangers. And MJ standing between them trying to think of a way to play this off as not strange at all.

Luckily, Peter’s still more awkward than she’ll ever be; he goes, “Oh, um, ok. Ma’am,” salutes, and climbs hastily back out her window. MJ sees him go up, towards the roof, and feels the familiar gratitude that he’s taking just enough care of himself to recognize that he shouldn’t return next door while Sadie’s a witness. Then her legs become broken stilts beneath her and she wobbles to the floor.

“What the fuck!” Sadie erupts.

She unfastens and hurls the strap-on aside (right onto MJ’s clean sheets―she’s asked Sadie not to do that), then rushes to the window, trying to make it close the way it did before. It shuts, at least. MJ plans to do whatever it takes to fake that the historic painted-shut window was never disturbed. Double-sided tape maybe. Or that cheese sauce she makes by hand. That always turns out pretty gluey. Her worry over both the window and her bedding fades when Sadie crouches in front of her and smooths the hair back from her face. She does like Sadie after all. Sadie’s Sadie, but she’s also Sadie: undeniably and reassuringly present as well as freakishly aware of MJ’s moods. MJ can feel her own dazed expression.

“That was nuts. Are you alright?”

“As long as I am actually alive and not lying naked on the sidewalk with my head cracked open,” MJ says, her sarcasm quiet but present.

“I’m sure there’s not a scratch on you. That masked bastard is pretty quick.”

This is a compliment.

“Yeah, he… must’ve been close by,” she agrees carefully.

“Must’ve.”

Ok, so Sadie can’t have seen Peter spring out of the neighbour’s window like a jack-in-the-box. Either the angle was wrong or she was a little caught up in her own attempts to haul MJ to safety. Whichever it was, MJ’s relieved.

“Can I get you a drink of water?” Sadie asks, touching MJ’s cheek in a way that’s more practiced than tender. She’s an ultrasound technician. “I’m gonna get you a drink of water.”

On her way out of the bedroom, she picks up her underwear and sweatpants, lines them up, and steps into both layers at the same time, like a firefighter. Well. That confirms the suspicion she created with the way she felt MJ’s face―they won’t be getting to the ice. Their current rendezvous is over. Something about near-death or the intrusion of a strange man has blown Sadie’s lust away like a cloud past the sun. Which sucks because MJ was super horny when she texted her faithful booty call and was anticipating good results from the pressure and speed of Sadie’s thrusts before historic New York vibe-checked MJ in the present.

The water is presented and Sadie has the good grace (or just tactful bedside manner) to pull MJ up to sit on the mattress before she reminds her that she’s about to take off by throwing on her t-shirt. Sadie shrugs as MJ gulps (wow, she is thirsty―hanging out an open window will really take it outta you), then MJ shrugs as she wipes her mouth. It’s not a big deal. The mood’s past and they aren’t and have never been a couple. Sadie won’t ask to stick around so they can make dinner together and MJ won’t invite her to. Still, she’s not going yet, which must mean MJ looks pretty scared. How to tell her it wasn’t the window but the guy who came through it? This is not the kind of conversation they have. Sadie reaches across the bed to grab the strap-on and pulls the sheet over in the same motion, trying to put it around MJ’s shoulders, but it’s twisted and stiff from being lately washed and doesn’t want to go higher than her waist.

“I’m not in shock,” MJ promises. Sadie gives her a look. “I’m not.”

“Well, you look… not like yourself.”

“How do I normally look?”

“After this?” she asks, waving the sex toy. “Sweaty and radiant.”

“So then it’s your fault for stopping just because of a minor issue with the window.”

Sadie snorts at this nonsense.

“You still sound like yourself anyway. Snarky and demanding.”

“Only in bed.”

“I only know you in bed,” Sadie jokes back in a more intimate tone. It’s only mostly true. She cares. They’ve been doing this a while.

A minute goes by as MJ tucks the sheet around herself and Sadie watches her like she might pass out.

“I didn’t mean demanding,” Sadie belatedly corrects. “Confident. Powerful. A good feminist who knows what she wan―”

“Shut up. It always makes me uncomfortable when you start being nice to me. With your mouth,” MJ corrects when her hook-up raises an eyebrow. “With your mouth when you’re speaking complimentary words,” she says, mock-irritated after Sadie lifts the other eyebrow too.

“Will you be alright?”

“I’m already fine. Shitty windows and Spider-Man are just part of the NYC experience,” she says to Sadie, an out-of-towner. MJ can’t remember where she’s from originally and they don’t do much small talk these days.

“I actually didn’t think he was anymore. Hasn’t he, like, not been around here for a while?”

“Hasn’t he?” MJ stares at the wall and tries to sound disinterested.

“It’s cool that he’s back, but if I see him again, I hope it’s under different circumstances.”

“Because you don’t want me to have an untimely death, right?”

“Oh, is that what you thought I meant? No, I was just wishing I’d been dressed.” But Sadie kisses MJ’s forehead to counteract her harsh reply. It’s different from the way she usually says goodbye―with a quick swat on the ass. She stands, finds her shoes and phone, and turns to go.

“Put that thing in a plastic bag or something,” MJ instructs, rubbing her forehead at the way Sadie just lets the unwashed strap-on swing at her side.

“‘That thing,’” Sadie echoes, offended, as she grabs a grocery bag from the back of MJ’s door. “As if Huge Jackman’s never done anything for you.”

“Stop calling it that.”

“Huge Jackman.”

“You’re fucked up,” MJ informs her lightly.

“Maybe so.” Sadie salutes in the style of Spider-Man. (MJ flinches on the inside from the deeper feelings trying to surface while outwardly rolling her eyes.) “Take ‘er easy.”

“Get home safe.”

With a wave exchanged, Sadie leaves the room. MJ hears her close the main door of the apartment behind her. She wriggles into an enormous crewneck sweatshirt and makes herself get up to lock it. Then, she rattles around in her bedside drawer for her vibrator and goes back to bed, determined to drive Peter Parker out of her head and back into her past.

―

It doesn’t take long to determine that her ex-boyfriend didn’t just happen to be next door when Sadie’s hips launched her through a window, nor was he visiting a friend. He lives there. The wall that encloses MJ’s bedroom on one side encloses one of the rooms of his apartment on the other. As for details on what’s brought him back to the city after his years in Denver (as she heard through Ned a few times before they drifted without having their closeness to Peter in common anymore), she’s both burningly curious and dedicated to appearing like she couldn’t care less.

It gives her mixed feelings that she and Peter run into each other a lot. The first time, they meet on the stairs in their building and he’s carrying a cardboard box. They don’t speak beyond an awkward greeting and Peter blurting out the obvious: “I just moved in!” He could probably stand there holding the box all day without his arms getting tired―MJ can’t help that her eye is drawn to the way his biceps stuffed into his sleeves look like cats do in pictures where they’ve wriggled into the sleeves of their owners’ sweaters―but they don’t prolong the encounter. The second time, MJ’s coming home when she sees Peter step out his door and hastily fishes her phone from her purse, pretending to be on a call. They nod to each other and he looks like he might try to say something to her, phone call or not, but he never does. Once she’s in her apartment, she wonders if she threw him off by addressing her fake call to the first name that popped into her head: May. Which, of course, is the name of Peter’s beloved aunt. MJ’s really excelling at convincing Peter that his proximity has no effect on her. If he’s wondering.

She would be, in his position, she thinks. Were she the one who’d been gone such a long time and suddenly presented with a former acquaintance as a next-door neighbour, she would wonder what the other person thought of her moving in. It should be a gift, in a city this size. Their particular history shouldn’t matter more than the value of having a neighbour you can trust to turn down their music to a respectful decibel, or keep their place clean so they don’t attract roaches to your shared part of the building, or not snitch to the landlord when you pop a historic window like bubble wrap. For fuck’s sake, they’ve been strangers to the events of each other’s daily lives longer than they were ever friends! Way longer than they were dating. What would make the most sense would be to slip back into an easy friendship now, make an effort before too many weeks go by and the habit of avoiding his eye when they pass each other in the hall or on the stairs becomes irreversible. So what if he saw her totally naked? Being Spider-Man has to be sorta like being a doctor―you see so much shit, including naked people, that it barely even registers. Just part of the job. It’s not as though her front door was unlocked and he walked in as Peter Parker to see Sadie screwing her. Anything he sees as Spider-Man shouldn’t count.

He never saw her naked as Peter. The fact that they didn’t get to anything beyond over-the-clothes touching was something she was glad of when they broke up. In her mind, it made them less connected. It was supposed to make him easier to forget. That worked pretty well for a lot of years, all that time MJ spent keeping distance between them, assuming it was what they would both want, because distance was enough to split them up. As long as she maintained the distance, it proved that breaking up was the right thing. They wanted to be separate and not together, so that’s how they would be. But now he’s living next door.

She doesn’t know if there’s a way to be distant and sharing a wall. The friends thing seems like the best plan. She’ll start them on the right path. Now. Tonight. Putting her hair down, then up again, then back down with only her uneasy reflection for guidance, she finally makes herself walk out of her apartment.

Peter’s at his door, just coming home by the looks of it. Perfect. He has his back to her and it’s a fairly broad back these days, broad enough to hide the petite woman MJ sees when she’s close. Peter has one hand on the key he’s turning in the lock and the other in the woman’s back pocket, presumably squeezing her ass. MJ doesn’t look long enough to know. Her eyes catch Peter’s when she passes and he glances up at the sound of footsteps. It’s likely that her expression of determination has writhed into panic. Of course, she can’t speak to him now, in front of his girlfriend or whatever this woman is to him, so MJ continues straight down the hall like she never intended to stop at his door. Ask how he’s doing. His aunt. Ned. Laugh about the circumstances of him rescuing her. About old times. Old feelings.

Old? Those feelings are ancient. MJ works harder to convince herself with every minute she spends standing alone in the stairwell, waiting to creep back to her apartment.

―

MJ texts Sadie to hook up more frequently, then not at all when she worries about being needy, which just makes Sadie tell her that there’s spontaneous and then there’s erratic, and Sadie does not need erratic in her life right now. Sobered by this assertion, MJ steadies herself and they go back to fucking once every week or two. While Sadie’s eating her out, MJ remembers Peter’s hand in that woman’s pocket and squeezes her eyes shut tightly.

She continues to see him. More than she sees any of their other neighbours. Lucky them, having such compatible schedules. It’s officially been long enough that she’s weird now―weirder than fake calls and hiding in stairwells―and he’s weird too. She doesn’t get it. Her stumbling across him bringing a guest back to his apartment is not on par with him finding her and her guest right in the middle of the act. How to make friends with Peter the neighbour when the silent crush she nurtured in high school miraculously bloomed into four months of dating, when she blushed as he linked his fingers with hers, and when, now, he brings five different women to his apartment in a span of three weeks? She learns that the room on the other side of the wall is Peter’s bedroom. Not knowing was preferable to the thumps, the high-pitched sounds. He’s either a talented lay or goes to bed with a lot of liars.

The next time Sadie comes over, MJ yanks the door open to meet her and folds around her, right there in the hallway, as they make out. Sadie rolls with it. That only makes MJ feel guiltier; the longer they’re in the hall, the greater the chance that Peter will see them. He’ll bear witness to her not being alone either. Her motives are shameful and she does secret penance, using up her ice, concentrating hard when she fingers Sadie and feels her uncomplicated panting on her neck.

But MJ’s never ahead of it, this weird feeling of lagging as she tries to reposition herself, Peter, the distance that belongs to them. One morning, she gets up at five to buy fresh bread from a farmer’s market instead of a grocery store and returns to their building, their floor, to find Peter receiving early-morning neck kisses in his open doorway from a short, black-haired man (a departing one-night stand, by the intimacy, by the fact of Peter’s pajamas) who mumbles in quiet, passionate Italian against MJ’s neighbour’s skin while she tries to get into her apartment as quickly as possible. She bites into a loaf without cutting it, then tears a messy chuck away to slather the still-warm interior with butter. Bread is possibly her only true friend on this earth.

Is she funny or is she just sad? Her brain seems faster, practicing how quickly it can distract itself whenever she sees Peter. She’s never not thought about him so much. Not sleeping together in high school begins to feel like a mistake. There’s a pain in her foot that she goes to her doctor about, only to be more or less told that she’s imagining it, that stress is manifesting as this random bastard foot pain. It could be true. She could need a new doctor. The compromise is to quit wearing this particular pair of flats she hates anyway and only owns for work. MJ next leaves her apartment in old high-tops, feeling tired and distrustful and therefore sure to make someone laugh today with some quip. Peter laughs before she says a word.

“Sorry, they just gave me such a flashback,” he tells her, slowing his steps to climb the stairs, putting his head level with her face instead of her shoes. “They look like the ones you used to wear.”

“Same ones.”

“Really?”

“I like how they’re broken in.”

“Where’s the line between ‘broken in’ and ‘worn out’?” Peter wonders with a smile.

My forehead, probably, MJ thinks. She shrugs. How strange that he’s here, standing on the same step she is. She’s gotten so used to not interacting that he started to seem like a ghost. The kind where they tolerate each other in their space, an understanding between realms. The kind that only really forces acknowledgement certain nights. A banging comes through the wall.

“You wanna grab a bagel or something? What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” she tells him, though she’s the one heading out and he’s the one heading home. “Let’s get a bagel.”

What’s amazing is how flat Peter’s been in her head―dimensionless enough to slip between a pair of receipts she kept for tax purposes and then forgot to throw away. The roundness of him over bagels is startling. He’s a rotating bookshelf, revolving and packed with stories she’s never heard. While he’s talking about mountains, a poppyseed stuck between his front teeth, MJ understands that she’s going to text Sadie after this and end things. She plants her elbows on the table, feeling as much on home turf as though she grew up in this little breakfast dive. The elbow’s in something sticky; MJ tips coffee onto a paper napkin and cleans herself with that, always watching Peter. He’s a new person with the original guy still inside. He’s sweet. Maybe their distance is like the center of this bagel she’s finishing slowly: not a gulf, just a hole in the middle of a circle. They don’t need to bridge two parts, just quit being numb to their connection. But all those women. That man, with his Romance language. When it’s over and she walks out ahead of him, she feels like he’s leaving for Colorado all over again, even as he’s right at her back, catching the door so it doesn’t bang into him because she let go too soon. It was heavy.

Sadie’s Sadie. MJ calls instead of texting and finds that she’s crying on a park bench, thankful for the hot sun on the back of her neck and the silence of her plentiful tears. Sadie will miss her, no more or less. Only at the end is MJ realizing that this will be a loss. Feelings aren’t simple. Someone has cared about her and been happy to see her name appear on their phone. Her vagina is the sole part of her that didn’t struggle with the ‘casual’ half of ‘casual sex,’ but her vagina is also not interested in taking the call. She rides the bus home and a man wheels a suitcase over her foot.

That night, MJ cooks to jazz, shrimp sticking in the pan, noodles soft. The smoke alarm sings back at her for her attempts to make garlic bread in the toaster oven. There’s a rapid knock at her door. She eyes the smoke detector, then leaves it. It’s Peter at the door.

“I heard the alarm. Do you need help?”

“I…”

The collar of his t-shirt is oddly limp, like it’s been stretched aside. There’s a smear of lipstick low on his neck. MJ angles out of her doorway and looks sideways. Huh. There’s a woman poking her head out of Peter’s doorway too.

“Sensitive smoke detector,” she tells him with a tight, apologetic smile. “Not exactly a disaster.”

“Oh, did you burn something? Do you wanna come over and eat with… us?”

He seems to remember about the woman then and looks uncomfortable. MJ lets him feel that for a minute. She allows him to look at her while that uncomfortable feeling surges inside him like a rising tide. Why should he be uncomfortable?

“No,” MJ says bluntly. “I don’t.”

Peter nods and backs away.

―

Over the next two weeks, he still has guests in his apartment. She doesn’t always see the moment of arrival or departure, but she’ll hear him put music on―something, as a teenager, he only ever did to be attentive to other people―or have to plug her ears to the thudding against the wall. What changes is the shifty way he looks at her when they see each other. He looks like he expects to get in trouble. Does he think she’s angry at him? She isn’t, honestly, just a keen observer.

MJ’s been bringing herself under the lens, witnessing her own reactions. Her relationship with love is better than she thought. Specifically, when she stayed and Peter left, she thought love was something she didn’t need. She was younger and now she’s older and ready to accept some silly things she scorned at eighteen. That love isn’t one shot, but sometimes many, many chances. That the same love can come around again like a merry-go-round horse. That you can fall in love young and never really forget it, even if you didn’t say it out loud, at the time or ever. Though love is closeness, love is also absence. Distance. Yes, love can live in distance, with a little air and a little sun. What’s time to truth? What’s geography?

Waiting for Peter makes MJ feel sure of herself. There’s nothing to be angry about.

On a Sunday morning, she’s putting actual effort into trying to get the window to close properly when she hears a familiar pop. Gingerly, she presses her window open and looks over to see Peter resting his forearms on the sill of his formerly-sealed window. He’s drinking a coffee. Fully aware of her presence, he turns to look at her and smiles, raising his mug in greeting. She puts down the wood glue and leaves the window wide open. Traffic sounds follow her to the kitchen, where she grabs a slice of banana bread before returning, pulling up a chair so she can have breakfast at her window too. The two of them could be a couple stools apart at a diner. They don’t speak. MJ feels so close to him she could cry. The crumbs from her food have four stories to fall, where they’ll eventually be found by pigeons.

“You wanna come over later?” he asks her eventually.

They’re unlocking the doors to their respective apartments after bumping into each other on the sidewalk, approaching the same building from opposite directions. They spoke on the way inside, all the way up the stairs. They walked slower down the hallway to say more words and swap more smiles. But they said goodbye already, before Peter’s question. MJ looks at him. Her heart swells up big in her chest, bigger than it feels like there’s room for. There’s been nobody over there with him in a long while. She studies his face, which looks more than friendly, like any answer but the one he wants to hear would wound him. That’s something she’s never wanted to do.

“Ten minutes?” MJ asks.

“Five,” he challenges.

“I can do five.”

It’s her first time knocking at his door. She changed her jeans, her bra, took off her earrings, brushed her teeth, soaked her neck in perfume that smells richly of late-summer flowers. The odour of his body―the wondering about it―has her tense as she waits to be let in. The wait is short.

His hands grab her, hold her tight, but his lips tremble with their first experimental kiss. MJ presses the door shut without looking back. Lets her keys fall. She pushes her hips against his and he’s already turned on, so hard it must be killing him. The second time their mouths brush, she fears this may actually be bad. His mouth is too slack, his jaw too clenched. Fortunately, Peter shows her that he’s just holding back severely because when he stops holding back… well. He’s added an island on locking wheels to his kitchen, with a low shelf underneath for storage space. They stagger into it, legs knocking the protruding handles of pots and pans to send them all clanging to the floor. When she lifts a foot high to step over a metal colander, Peter’s hand darts out and grabs her thigh; suddenly, her ass is pressed to the island and he’s rolling his hips hard into hers, palm hot through her jeans. MJ squeezes her hands between their bodies to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants; she palms the head of his dick through his boxers. It’s not enough, not close enough.

They make a breakaway from the clutter and she laughs―as bright and bursting as a torn-open orange―when Peter hauls her into his arms, impatient with her cautious tread around his spill of cookware. He practically tosses her onto his modest kitchen table and she grabs his face in both hands, kissing him deeply with tongue, as she wiggles her ass to the edge, thighs wide to accommodate his. The force of his return kisses makes her tilt backward. His fingers are on the button of her jeans, the fly, stroking the soft material of her underwear with his thumb. MJ plants a hand and lifts herself up quickly and they pry her jeans out from under her. Her shoes go too. The table legs bang loudly off the floor with this shifting of her weight, making Peter grin. He looks young and delirious after whipping his t-shirt off. He looks happy. Her hands clutch greedily at his bare skin.

She chokes on a wet breath when he hooks a finger around the crotch of her underwear to tug them off, knuckle pushing fleetingly against her, dipped in her wetness like an apple in candy coating. It’s lucky that Peter thinks about getting a condom because MJ flushes to find it hasn’t crossed her mind. He sprints away and comes back before she has her cropped cardigan fully unbuttoned. Does it happen too fast? No, it seems like it’s right on time when Peter whips his jeans and boxers down his legs and tucks his chin to watch himself roll the condom down his dick, MJ’s gaze going from his hands to his expression of harried concentration like flipping pages of a magazine. Ready, he bends his knees. She angles her hips.

They’re seventeen, turning eighteen soon, and she’s on top of the world the first time he holds her hand.

The stretch of him inside her would be killer if she weren’t this wet for him. The table scrapes the floor and Peter breathes heavily into her hair, sounding like he needs a moment to cool off. She doesn’t want a moment. MJ lays flat on her back and he follows her down with the lightest touch to the back of his neck. There’s barely enough room for her, the top of her head skimming the wall if she really straightens her spine, but she braces her hands on either side of her head and stares Peter in the eye to let him know she’s serious. It can be fast. The night is young and they’re not too old for miracles like second chances and short refractory periods. He groans because they’ve scarcely begun and already the thought of another round has her reactively seizing around his cock.

“My bad,” she says with a smirk.

“You’re good,” he counters, diving for a kiss. “You’re so fucking good.”

His hands wrap around her from underneath, gripping the back of her sweater, grasping her shoulders from behind. All the time, he bucks, jubilantly, honestly, like he’s not afraid of hurting her. This is what she wants. When he caresses up her bent arms to learn the shape of her wrists with his fingertips, then place his palms over the back of her hands, MJ’s eyes roll back and closed. Her back bows slightly as she tilts to make sure he drags across her clit when he thrusts. What will they do if his table collapses under her full weight and most of his, with him bent over her body? Continue on the floor, probably.

Peter’s mouth leaves hers and she moans loudly without interference―mmming and uhhhing and Jesus, fuck, Peter, right thereing. He acquaints himself with her neck in quick, sharp nips before dipping further to burrow his nose against her sternum, inhaling and exhaling hard as he hunches over her like a question mark and pounds his hips forward like he’s dying and her cunt’ll give him five more minutes of life. If he’s still running on that power and responsibility mantra, the motherfucker’s responsibility must be through the roof because his power is immense. He noses her partially undone cardigan aside to suck her nipple through the scant peekaboo lace of her bra. MJ’s legs urge his hips to slow, her arms almost worn out from stopping her head bumping the wall. Grinding her clit hard into his pubic bone, she comes with a shaky sob, eyes open to a ceiling identical to hers in the next apartment over. How many months late can you welcome somebody to the building?

He’s noisy in the buildup to his release, both from his mouth and in the sloppy sounds of his dick navigating her flooded, spasming channel post-climax, but quiet when he finally lets go inside her. Peter turns his face up to MJ. It’s kind of beautiful, the dishevelled hair, the ascending look in his eyes. She grips him reassuringly with her thighs and hangs on even when tough-guy’s knees almost give out, though she’d never be able to keep him on his feet if he dropped. How she feels is as if she could walk through fire carrying him on her back.

The fear, when they break apart, seems to be mutual. But for the way she throbs for what he removed, it could have simply not happened. Peter runs a hand over his face. MJ stays put, breathing hard. He throws out the condom that is more evidence; the sensation between her legs will fade, but latex has gotta last a lifetime in a landfill. Sweetly, he collects her jeans and underwear from the floor and sets them on a chair at the table before standing there like the uncertain teenage boy she knew.

“You’re good,” she notes, catching him off guard. He laughs, pleased, self-conscious, back to pleased, and turns freshly pink. “I can see what all your guests have been screaming about.”

The contentment leaves his expression.

“Oh, M, I―”

“It couldn’t bother me less,” MJ tells him truthfully. She sits up and wonders if her legs will refuse to stand when she tries. Better hold off another minute. “You had to get that good with somebody. And I’m glad I won’t be lowering my expectations after Sadie showed me how much I deserve in bed.”

“Sadie? The blonde woman with the…” Peter motions between his legs at the homegrown organic penis that hangs in place of the purple facsimile Sadie was sporting when the two of them met.

“Yep.”

She gets off the table and has to stop him from shadowing her into the bathroom with a hand to his tautly muscled chest. Down, boy. Let her pee in peace.

They lie in bed together after that, on clean sheets that are pretty poorly secured. So that’s how Peter spent his five minutes before she came over. In appreciation and the comfort she already feels around him, she finishes unbuttoning her cardigan and takes it off. The bra follows―after he swiftly but lightly grabs her arm to take a good long look at her wearing it. There’s a twitch from his lap as she wriggles fully naked under the sheet with him.

They talk school for a while, friends, dates that went nowhere, student loans. Then he asks, “Did you eat?” and the question compels MJ onto her knees with a sly smile. She bypasses the hopeful tent he’s pitching down south to ease her weight onto his chest, tucking her legs around his arms. The look she gives him says, I just know you’re good at oral. Don’t make me wait any longer. Maintaining eye contact, Peter rubs her lower back, then guides her forward. Again, she has her palm slapped to one of his goddamn walls when orgasm hits, riding the hot, mutable surface of his tongue. The other hand reached behind her a few minutes ago to pump what she could of his cock, giving him his while she got hers. Soon after calling her neighbour’s name at the wall he shares with her empty apartment, she shuffles backwards to line him up and take him deep. The visual of jerking him off by hand appeals to her, but the craving to mount him is too strong to ignore.

They argue passionately about who’s madder when he has to make her get off so he can put a condom on again.

Quick and hot in the kitchen was good; slow and smoldering in his bed is better. MJ’s sure Peter would flip her and chase bliss at a single nod of her head, but he seems to be enjoying her on top too much to suggest a return to that fucking-where-he-eats-breakfast haste. She rocks to her own rhythm―it’s self-serving and irregular, but the friction is heating her nicely. Her g-spot could be a lottery scratch ticket. The head of his cock, a lucky coin. While she swirls her hips, fingers in her own hair, his hands move worshipfully over her ass and thighs. She traces a pinky down the center of his chest and leans forward to kiss him. The smells of her and him are in her nose when she has to inhale a harsh breath because he won’t break the kiss. His hands knead the back of her thighs and MJ grips his hair, slamming her hips back. Peter releases a high gasp into her mouth. She sucks at his lower lip, his tongue, teasing him with shallowness now, working the head of his cock until he’s squirming and moaning and taking actions that say to hell with you and softer things besides, keeping her legs still and driving up into her. She catches his lip in her teeth when she grins.

So he doesn’t think he has all the control, MJ pushes up and sits tall astride him, legs straining to sustain the sudden speed of her bounce. He frames her breast with his index finger and thumb. Only when Peter has his other hand between her legs, scrubbing at her clit, does he close his grip and pinch down on her nipple. Her third orgasm is the least special, because it feels like they’ve been doing this for years. Wait, then maybe it’s the most special. MJ folds and rolls compliantly after her body quits singing and settles into a well-tuned hum; Peter hikes her leg, somehow getting his shoulder into the moist crook of her knee, and finishes with a half-dozen deep thrusts, grinding her name out through his teeth. His scent is sweat and cherries, wet and sweet. Behind her closed eyelids, she pictures a wave crashing on a breakwater.

They’re above the sheets now, cotton in mobile wrinkles as they breathe and sigh. His fingers delicately map her bones through the back of her hand. He tries to hold her like he could press her right through his skin, but, body lax, MJ tells him to leave space. She won’t erase their distance. She just can’t bear it.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[heychangbin]

Change o’ Plans ║ Part One

Summary: You sit beside Vito in the cemetery chapel, going through the motions, praying to saints you don’t believe in to help you make it to the end of the service and for things to run smoothly. 

Warnings: Blood, swearing, mentions of murder

Wordcount: 3232

A/N: y’all bitches fucking thought.

You hated this, hated sitting at the first pew, a modest black dress hanging off your shoulders with Vito at your side, his hand holding yours as you both watched friends and relatives walk up to stand beside of the casket, say their piece to the body laying inside, and walk back to their seat.

You bowed your head and prayed to every saint you heard of growing up that they grant you the strength to see this through. You were halfway through reciting a fifth rosary when you felt Vito's hand tighten in yours, making you lift your head and eye him unquestioningly out of the corner of your eye. His eyes were trained ahead, lips pressed into a harsh line and his shoulders were tense. You followed his line of sight and your own hand tightened, your back going rigid at the sight of Georgie, bent over the side of the casket, his large hand gripping one of the bodies shoulders as he murmured things you couldn't hear. 

You felt yourself go livid at the audacity of the man, but then again, you never knew Georgie to have any shame which is how you weren't surprised at all when he stopped in front of you and Vito instead of heading back to his own pew, his large hand coming to tap and grip Vito's shoulder,

"'Ey Vee,sorry 'bout your brother"

Vito gave him a curt nod with a clipped "thanks Georgie," 

"He looks good, all things considered, guys in the back did him good."

You could feel how your nails dug into Vito's skin but the man beside you didn't flinch, he continued to hold on tight to your hand, if it was to keep you or himself from standing and completely throttling George you couldn't be sure, but you were grateful to have him there as an anchor. 

"Listen, if either of yous need anything, you come to me, Nicky was my best friend, he was family, and that means you are too."

For a brief moment you entertained the idea of telling George he could take that sentiment and shove it where the sun don't shine, after what he did to Nick he was lucky that he was still standing and that Vito was the only family you had but before the words could leave your lips you heard Vito say from beside you, 

"Thanks George, we'll keep that in mind."

George took a step and knelt in front of you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, thumb stroking the outside dip as his eyes bore into yours and emphasized his words, 

"I mean it, anythin' at all, I'm your guy."

The weight of his meaty hand on you had you suppressing a shiver, it took everything in you to not shove him away and force out a "thanks" that almost choked you to say and disguised your struggle by bowing your head, covering your mouth and leaning into Vito's shoulder. 

It seemed to do the trick, george gave your knee what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze but felt anything but, pushed himself up off the floor and made his way back down the aisle between the pews. 

It was another hour until the service was brought to a close but not before you walked up to the casket, your low heels clicking against the linoleum floor and echoing off the walls of the chapel. You stared at the face that looked so much like the man you loved, his face was peaceful, forehead relaxed, his long lashes fanning across the top the apple of his cheeks, his hair was combed back in the way it usually was, shiny from the product he ran through his dark tresses to keep them in place, his beard immaculately styled, dressed in a lead gray suit, arms resting at his sides, the tip of his neck tattoo peeking over the neck of his charcoal button down. If it weren't for the color of his skin that was off by a couple of shades, you'd think he was sleeping. 

The sob that wracked your body had you stumbling back and into the arms of Vito, who held you close, hand stroking your back whispering words of encouragement as you felt chest caving in on itself and murmurs rose from behind him,

"I can't—I can't do this Vee, I gotta get outta here."

"Just a bit more, then this'll all be over."

You gripped the lapels of his jacket so hard you swore you heard and felt the material tear between your fingers before loosening your hold on the material and nodding. 

"Please, don't make me go back up there Vee, I can't," you struggled to say between broke sobs

"Yeah, c'mon," he murmured, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and guiding you back to the pew.

It wasn't long after that that the minister called the viewing to a close and give directions to the plot where the casket would be lowered. 

The last rays of sunlight were lingering in the sky when Vito dropped you off with a promise to stop by the next day.

You hugged him and thanked him for being there with you before you climbed out of his car and made your way up the short walkway to your front door, giving him a final wave as you walked through your door and locking it behind you. 

You leaned against the door for a moment and just breathed, the hardest part was done.

You dropped your keys into the bowl that sat atop the table beside the door and stepped out of your heels, promising yourself to pick them up and put them away tomorrow morning. 

You took a step in the direction of the small kitchen 

"How was it?" Despite the voice being familiar and exactly what you needed to erase the image of the man in the casket from your mind, it still made you jump and kicked your heart into overdrive as it frantically beat against the middle of your chest. 

"God damn it Nick!" You hissed to the dark room at large, "you almost gave me a goddamn heart attack," you continued as you peered at the empty living room, forcing your eyes to adjust until you were able to make out his silhouette. Once you did you launched yourself at him, giving himself barely enough time to open his arms and catch you. His arms wrapping around your waist as yours went around his neck.

*******

The house was dark for the exception of the kitchen light, where you were sitting at your kitchen table, the clock on the stove indicating it was 2am in neon green numbers.

He should've been back by now….unless, you drummed your fingernails on the shiny wooden surface as you fought thoughts of the alternative from your mind.

He's gonna be back….any minute now, he's gonna walk through the front door with a bag of taco bell...

You reached for your phone, bringing the screen to life to see the clock on the screen 2:03. You pressed the power button, making the screen go dark as you pushed yourself off your chair and walked the length of your small kitchen a few times before you walked over to the counter, pulling one of the drawers open, reaching in and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and lighter Nick kept there. You taped the pack against the heel of your palm before pulling one out, placing it between your lips and lighting it. Taking a drag and filling your lungs with the smoke, holding it for a beat before exhaling the smoke in a plume of white. The nicotine did very little to settle your nerves but that didn't stop you from bringing it back to your lips and taking another long drag, flicking the edge and letting the ash fall into the sink. 

You turned to the clock on the stove again, the numbers on it reading 2:14.

Where are you Nick, you shouldve been back by now,

You flicked the ash off your cigarette again, and reached for your phone, bringing it to life, 2:18, tapping out your passcode and flicking the screen to your contacts, your thumb hovering over Vito's contact entry when the backdoor was thrown open, making you jump. You reached for the closest thing to use as a weapon, a frying pan that had been drying on the dish rack, holding it over your head ready to bring it down on your intruder when you recognized Vito. Your hold on the handle went slack when you saw Nick hanging off his brother's shoulder, his face clammy and looking too pale for comfort.

"Get the first aid kit," Vito gritted through his teeth as he struggled to maneuver himself and Nick through the threshold and crashing into the open door, the sound and Nick's groan of pain jolting you into action, tossing her phone on the counter and the half gone cigarette into the sink to worry about later, pulls one of the cabinet doors open, reaching for the small plastic box, throwing the lid open and quickly picked up a few packets of sterile gauze, ripping them open while Vito lifted the bloody end of Nick's shirt over his stomach. 

What you saw made your knees buckle, a long deep gash ran along his side, the edges dark and crusty and the surrounding skin an alarming shade of dark pink with streaks and swirls of red. 

"He just grazed me, bleedin’ already stopped,” Nick grits out in an attempt to reassure you as you crouch down beside him and carefully dab away the blood that is slowly trickling down the jagged edges, the obvious strain in his voice does nothing to reassure you that Nick is not gonna bite the dust in your kitchen chair, "just hurts like a bitch, is all."

You cover and apply pressure to the wound before looking over at Vito, the request for warm water and a couple of clean towels dying on the tip of your tongue when your eyes land on the patches of blood on his side too, tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision, No, I can’t lose both of them.

“I gotta get you guys to a hospital,” you force out through choked sobs as your eyes jump between them. 

Nick groans out a garbled “No.” at the same time Vito looks over at you from where he’s leaning against the counter, confusion clear on his face before looking down at himself,

“Shit, no, I’m fine,” he rushes out, lifting the edge of his shirt to show you that there were no wounds on him, “some’ve Nick’s blood must’ve gotten on me.” he explained, twisting from side to side before dropping his shirt back down.

You swallow the lump that’d been lodged in your throat in relief and ask him to hand you some warm water and clean towels. 

Vito turns to the sink and twists the knobs a few times, letting the hot water run as he looks through the cabinets for a large bowl to fill, meanwhile you keep a steady pressure on the wound and talk to Nick to keep him conscious. 

“We really should take you to the hospital Nick,”

“No hospital,” he groans out, his voice already sounding stronger now that he’s had a moment to rest.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches Nick,” you argue, exasperation bleeding into your voice at his stubbornness.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, the only sound in the small kitchen is the running water from the sink, you look up at him and see his eyes focused on Vito, who shakes his head at what he reads in his brother's eyes. 

You shoot your own questioning gaze at the younger man, unable to understand how Vito could suggest Nick not go to the hospital with a bleeding gash on his side, you open your mouth to say such but Nicky beats you to the punch saying, 

“I killed Sal.”

Your head snaps back to look at Nick so fast you wonder how you don't give yourself whiplash. 

“....what?”

“Sal took a shot at me when I went to talk to him, fix things with him, he had a gun under the table but his aim was off, the bullet grazed my side….before he could try again….” he paused and turned to look at you, his hand coming to rest on top of yours and gripping it tight, “I had to come back to you, is all I knew, I put one in his chest….’nd two in his head.”

You look back at Vito, “Did you—”

Before you could finish your question Nick and Vito answered with a chorused “No.”

“I had no idea what he was going to do,” Vito explained

“He followed me after I told him not to,” Nick continued, “I didn’t know he was there until….after.’

You looked at where your hands were joined, he could’ve….you shook your head as if it would help banish the dreadful thought. 

“We--I gotta lay low for a while, I’m sure Sal wasn’t the only one that thought I’d try and talk to him, when they find them, they’ll know it was me.’

Them? You looked back up at Nick, 

“Rocco, Sal’s bodyguard, he saw me go in.” he explained, brows furrowed and eyes hard as he looked at Vito.

You looked between them and caught the twitch in Vito’s cheek, the same one that told you he was bluffing when you sat down and played poker with him. 

“Vee?” Vito broke Nick’s gaze and looked at you and you saw it in his eyes, saw the truth Nick was trying to hide or spare you from, “oh Vee.”

“I had to, Rocco, he woulda—”

“You didn’t do shit, you hear me,” Nick yells over Vito, hands on his knees as if to push himself up off the chair and hissing when he shifts, muttering a fuck as he let's himself drop back down and lean against the high back. 

His hand comes up to punch at the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh and in a more relaxed tone says, 

“We talked 'bout this Vee, you weren’t there. Period. I went there alone, left alone, and you haven’t seen me since." He turns to look at you, dark eyes intense as they bore into yours, "Either of you.”

"Whaddya talkin' 'bout Nicky?"

Nick's eyes move from yours to look behind you at Vito, giving his head a slight nod to the side. 

"Imma give you guys a minute."

You heard Vito shift behind you, the sound of drawers opening and closing, then a quiet clink as he placed one of the larger ceramic bowls from your cabinets, an off blue you used for plating for special occasions and holidays, beside you and dropped a few folded towels in various shades and prints on Nick's leg.

The quiet between the two you stretch long after the muted thud of Vito’s shoes on the carpeted floor disappeared as he made his way through the livingroom and to one of the bedrooms.

When he still didn’t say anything, you shifted your weight, resting your knees on the cool linoleum and reached for the bowl of water, dipping your fingertip from your free hand in to check the temperature. Satisfied  that it was warm enough to not further irritate the skin around the wound, you reached for the towels and dropped a couple of them in the bowl, letting them soak as you carefully removed the gauze from his side. You wring the excess water from one of the towels and carefully dab at the stains, wiping away the red and revealing the pink and tanned skin underneath. You’re half way through clearing away the dried bloods when Nick breaks the silence. 

"After tonight, we—I can't sta—”

“Niccolo Emilio Tortano,” you interrupted, eyes meeting his as your hands stillied their work, “if you think I’m gonna stay in this god forsaken town without you, you got another thing comin’”

The corners of his lips turn up in a barely there smile, “Vito said you��d say somethin’ like that.”

“Vee’s a smart kid,” you nodded, dipping the soiled towel in the water, wringing it and going back to wipe away at the blood.

“He is, smarter than I was when I was his age.”

You’re selling yourself short Nicky, when you were his age, you were…. 

“I gotta plan to get us outta town,” he went on, telling you enough of what his plan was but keeping the grittier details you knew would be involved, especially of when he spoke about George, to himself. You were long finished cleaning his wound, adding some ointment and a taping gauze to his side by the time he finished explaining his plan. 

“You think it’s gonna work?” you asked, balling up the trash and pushing yourself up off your knees and walking over to throw it away in the bin under the sink. You turn to go pick up the owl of water, and catch Nick as he’s pushing himself up off the chair, bowl of pink water in one hand and the soiled towels in the other. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back against the edge of the counter while he dumps the water down the drain, turned the faucet on and let the towels soak, dumping a generous amount of dish soap and scrubbing at the stains. 

“It’s gotta.”

******

“Almost everyone you said showed up,” you said once you had moved back to your bedroom, hands reaching at the zipper at your back. 

“Almost?” Nick said stepping up behind you and lowering the zipper.

“Yeah, couple of guys came up to Vee, saying that Lorenzo and Orazio couldn’t make it but that they send their condolences, that you had promise, that it was unfortunate how things…unfolded.”

He gave a humorless huff as you pulled and shifted your dress off your shoulders, stepping out of it and draping it at the end of the bed. 

“George showed up,” you mentioned as you pulled out a pair of pyjama shorts and an old tshirt from the dresser, and stepping into the bottoms, Nick muttering a curse and asking what he’d wanted. 

“Told Vee and I that he was there for us, whatever we needed, to come to ‘im, that you were family to him ‘nd--”

Another curse interrupted you, “sonuvabitch has some balls.”

You tried but you couldn’t help that burst of laughter that came out of you, “Vee said the exact same thing on the drive back.”

That got a chuckle from Nick “It’s a Tortano trait,” he said as he came to stand in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I know that you did today wasn’t easy, I’m so--”

You pushed yourself up on the balls of your feet, pressing your lips to his, silencing his for a moment, pulling back and saying,

“I love you Nicky, without you here, there’s nothing for me to stick around for.”

Nick leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his hold on your tightening slightly. 

“Just a few more days, then, this’ll all be over.”

************************

@juguitos @something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @suchatinyinfinity​ @bts-smolarmy @elanor-of-imladris @pheedraws @obscurilicious 

[riseofarmy]

04 | STOP WITH THE FINGER CLICKING PLEASE

i can do this all day 04 | stop with the finger clicking please

author : @riseofarmy

pairing : kim seokjin x original character

words : 2995

i can do this all day masterlist

previous chapter

DARLING

"You need me to what?" The genie's irritatingly perfect eyebrows fly up, and it takes all of my willpower to not smack Seokjin in the face.

I nearly started crying this morning when I woke up to find him floating over my bed and playing with something - I had convinced myself that perhaps he was something I imagined, but seeing him right there making random noises while he concentrated on whatever he was doing... it reminded me that the plan I had been working on for more than seven years totally won't work!

He was alright yesterday, bearable at the very least, minus the whole showing-up-outta-nowhere and messing up my plan. Today, though, he's really getting on my nerves - I thought he was supposed to grant wishes, but all he seems to do is ask questions incessantly.

"I'll say this one last time. I need you to make the prince fall in love with me, stat. I am a woman on a mission and the longer you make me wait, the more grouchy I'm gonna get, 'kay?" When the genie does nothing but blink at me, I roll my eyes and rub a hand over my head with a sigh. "I said, okay?"

Seokjin stares me down for a second more. "I can't actually make anyone fall in love with anyone."

"You. What." That can't be right. This isn't how it was supposed to go. If I only have four wishes and can't even make the prince fall in love with me, then... "Then what the hell can you do?" My voice comes out sharper than intended, but I don't bother apologizing to the purple-haired genie.

I think he flinches, but he smoothes his expression so fast I'm not sure. "What can I do? I can make you rich beyond measure, the most powerful creature on Earth, get rid of all your enemies with a click of my fingers, the list is almost endless. Anything but more wishes, bringing someone back from the dead or messing with love, I can do it all."

I can't hide the bitter disappointment that puts a tremble in my voice. "That's not what I need though..."

"What?"

"Huh? Ah, nothing, just... Sorry for snapping at you." I take a peek at him out of the side of my eye to find him squinting at me. There's a furrow between his eyebrows, which he wills away when he notices me looking at him.

"It's alright, I'm used to it." Maybe that was supposed to make me feel better, but instead, I feel like the biggest piece of shit.

"That's even worse, Seokjin. You're just trying to help, it's not fair for me to be so rude. Seriously, I'm sorry for snapping at you."

Seokjin scratches his neck, looking at the ground. "Oh. Uh. Apology accepted. But... what now?"

What now indeed?

The crowd had thickened around us as we got closer to Mansae, but all of a sudden, I couldn't figure why I was still going. I thought I had everything figured out, that I had a way to make my plan work, but instead, I get another blow to deal with.

I don't even know what I'm supposed to do now.

"Okay, you know what? It is waayyy too crowded and smelly in here for me to concentrate, lemme just—" Seokjin grabs my hand and clicks his fingers, and suddenly we're—

"Seokjin what the goddamn hell is wrong with you?! Where are we?" I bombard him with questions and Yoongi matches my confusion by yowling at Seokjin from his place on my shoulders. Even as I ask, though, a part of my brain recognises the trees we trekked through just an hour ago. "Why are we here again?"

Seokjin stares at me blankly without blinking. It's a little creepy.

"Hmmm, I wonder why. Oh, that's right, it might be because you want to marry the fucking prince? Did you not just spend the last four hours complaining to me about him and his dumb dad? So why? The hell? Do you want to marry him?"

"Uh. It's complicated."

"Uh, it's complicated," Seokjin repeats in a high-pitched voice that I think was supposed to mock me. "I have time."

"Oh. Right. Well." He looks unimpressed, rolling his eyes so hard I thought they would disappear into his head.

"Couch session part two, I guess." He clicks his fingers and the same seats from our first meeting show up, one of which he pushes me onto. He clicks again, and a strange-looking cup appears in his hand, clear with a shockingly bright pink drink sloshing around inside. "Start talking, Darling. Why do you want to marry the Asshole Prince?"

"I..." Judging by his face, there's no way he'll let me get away with not telling him.

"Alright, I need Jungkook to choose to marry me so I can get close to him and the king. The prince and the king hurt... someone I care about, and used his position to silence everyone who knew about it. And it's not just that, there have been so many other people who tried to stand up for themselves, but he can get away with whatever he wants because he's the king.

"The only thing keeping him where he is and giving him his power is his crown and... I want to take that away from him. I have to show him how the rest of the world has to suffer when we don't have the money or title to ignore the consequences of our actions."

I know the way I talk about the king is treasonous, that this whole plan could end with my body spiked on the palace walls. I know that no one else will be able to have my back since everyone would be trying to self-preserve, but still. I have to try and do something, or spend the rest of my life wishing I had stood up for everyone who was hurt by someone who thought he was above basic human decency.

Seokjin's mouth had dropped open little by little as I spoke, and he stares at me now with his bright pink drink paused in front of his lips.

"Darling. Lemme get this straight. You want to take down the king because he's a tyrannous autocrat who doesn't value the rights of his subjects? That's... kinda hot of you."

I splutter loudly and I can feel my face heat up as I look anywhere but at him. Does he ever think before he speaks? "It's not hot, it's just what I think. But I don't even know how I'm going to do it now."

"What do you mean?" Seokjin tilts his head to one side.

"My dad's the one who told me about the lamp, but I don't think he knew there was a djinn inside, or that you can only have four wishes." I finger the purple gem at my throat as the agitation I had been pushing down all this time starts to bubble up again. "I had planned to just make whatever wishes I needed for Jungkook to choose me, but if I only have four, then I have to do it right."

Seokjin's tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as his furrowed gaze drifts above my head. I can almost feel his thoughts turning in his head. "Hmm. And since you only have four, your first wish shouldn't be that Jungkook chooses you."

"What? But-"

"Hear me out, Darling. Jungkook being a prince and choosing you won't mean shit if you aren't royalty, the king'll just Megan Markle your ass and this whole thing would be a waste of your time." He looks at me pointedly, but I just stare at him for a second, gobsmacked.

"What does that even mean?" I don't think he even realises that all I heard was a stream of made-up words.

"Oh damn, this ain't 2021. I mean, even if Jungkook chooses you, the king can refuse you because you aren't nobility, and wishing you were royalty after the king refuses you won't help you. On the other hand, if you were a princess, then there's a chance Jungkook could choose you even without you wishing for it. You're gonna have to be royalty to make this work anyway, but if you do it in the right order and manage to seduce Jungkook, you can save a wish."

It takes me a second to understand what he's saying, but when I do — "Oh. Oh." — I can basically feel a weight being lifted off my shoulders. For the last day, I'd been trying to put together a plan but kept running into walls.

If I hadn't talked to Seokjin about what I wanted to do, I would still be bumbling around and trying to figure it out, but now thanks to him, I finally have a plan. To think I had been refusing his help all this time...

"What do you think?" He's focussed on my face, lips pursed just the tiniest bit in anticipation.

I grin stupidly at him in response, and he almost melts as the tension eases away from him, shoulders flopping back into his seat. "I think... I think we can do this, Seokjin."

"Okay. Okay! Well, now that I understand what you're trying to do, just say you wish you were a princess and I'll take care of everything else."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that, Darling."

"Uh. Okay. I wish I was a princess."

Seokjin smirks slyly and clicks his fingers. For a dizzying moment, the world is awash in every shade of purple that could ever exist - violets and lavenders and the-children-of-wine-and-periwinkle press against my vision, hard and soft - and then everything returns to the way it was.

Just like that.

Except not really, because I was currently in... Well, this time I actually don't know where. It takes a second to get myself breathing again, shocked yet again by all of the materialising and vanishing that happens around Seokjin, but when I do, I look around.

We're in a tiny room, I think. The ceiling is held up by wooden posts, but the 'walls' are made of gauzy curtains that flutter gently. There is only one plush seat and a bit of legroom in front of us, so Seokjin lounges beside me.

Yoongi yowls at Seokjin while batting at his shin, and Seokjin returns the sentiment by hissing at my cat.

Ha. He thinks he can get away with threatening Yoon like that?

I turn to hit Seokjin's shoulder, but I hadn't realised that the room was moving. Losing my balance, I throw down my hands, but the only place from them to land are his thighs. Did I ever mention that he 'covers' his chest with an open vest? Because I was currently face-to-face with that chest.

I whip my hands off him, face burning as he laughs and steadies me with an annoyingly smug smile on his face.

"Careful, Darling, we're in a palanquin. You think I would let my princess walk?"

"I am not your princess!" I raise my eyebrows at him, daring him to say the retort I just know is on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he just grins wider.

"That's where you're wrong, because you literally are a princess now. Take a look outside." He nudges the curtains on one side apart, flooding the already bright room with noon sunlight that takes a second for my eyes to adjust to.

Outside, the palace which we had only seen from the edge of the city is suddenly looming in front of us. Dark red and blue banners waving from tower tops crowned the carved white marble walls of the palace, which was surrounded by gardened courtyards and penned in by sentried, iron-wrought gates.

Although we were in the thick of the press of people, there was room left around our palanquin. It takes me a moment to realise why, but I understand when I see the awed faces of those closest to the palanquin - they think there is royalty inside, and of course they do.

It's what I wished for, isn't it?

I stick my head out a little further to find that our palanquin is being held and moved by people, rods from the palanquin hooked onto their shoulders, as well as two gold carriages in front of us and two behind. The ones directly in front and behind seemed to hold people as well, but the other two looked like they held other things.

You are absolutely right, Darling, Seokjin said. Except his voice sounded strange. Ah, that would be because I'm talking in your head.

I snap around to find Seokjin smirking. "You can read my thoughts now? Is this a new development because of the wish or having you been invading my thoughts this whole time?"

Immediately the smirk falls, worry creeping into his eyes. "It's a new thing, and even if it wasn't I would never do it without your permission. I just wanted to let you know now so you didn't get surprised by it later. You can talk to me through your thoughts too, if you need to. Is that... okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just don't go around digging in my head without me knowing." I nudge his knee lightly to let him know we're good, and he returns it with a grin on his face again.

"Sure thing, Darling. Oh, and those carriages. The one in front and behind hold your maids and guards, and the other two have presents for the kings. You can't come empty-handed, of course."

"Right. But uh... what about the people holding the palanquin. Does it hurt them?"

For some reason, his eyes soften at my question. "No, don't you worry about that. I've made sure they're fine."

"Okay. Thank you."

We sit in silence for a while, and I only notice my clothes then.

I am no longer in my dirty jacket and boots, but instead, a deep blue lehenga embroidered with a lotus pattern. I'm basically dripping in gold, heavy necklaces next to the lamp, bangles all up my arm, a stud in my nose and a piece laying through my hair part and against my forehead.

My hair part! I reach behind my head to find not my shorn head, but waves and waves of thick black hair. I had almost forgotten what it was like - shiny and heavy, slinking through my fingers.

I looked like an extravagant version of what I would see worn by the richer women in Paratham. My mother only had one outfit this lovely, and that was for her wedding; my dad had chosen to wear Daehan-Minguk's wedding hanbok.

Not particularly feeling like crying right now, I stick my head out between the curtains again, showing Yoongi the view too. I give up when he starts hissing at everyone, letting him play with the toy mouse Seokjin magics up.

We're in there for an hour, but eventually the palanquin sways to a stop and is set down. A voice calls from outside, but Seokjin shakes his head at me when I try to find out what's happening.

"I think you're going to have to get used to having other people do everything for you now that you're a princess. I'll take care of it, as your advisor and guard. And part-timer translater. And food-taster. And—"

"Alright, alright, I get it. Just go."

Seokjin does exactly that, and Yoongi follows with his tail in the air. Traitor.

It's frustrating to not know what is going on - I can make out Seokjin's low voice talking with a guard, but I can't hear what they're saying. There's a lull in their conversation before it picks up again.

A few minutes later, Seokjin sticks his head in and starts talking, words spilling so fast I can barely understand him.

"We're going to meet the king very soon. I'm gonna start my first task as your advisor: presenting the gifts we brought, then you, blah blah blah. Talk you up as the best person for Jungkook to marry, all that jazz."

I fiddle with the embroidered edge of my lehenga. "It feels like I'm being sold."

"As much as I hate to say it, Darling, the king is going to want the marriage that best benefits him. That's why everyone's bringing presents: to say 'Hey! Look at all these riches we have! You could have these too!'. The king will probably push Jungkook to choose the princess of the richest country."

He says it flippantly, but there's a tightness in his jaw that tells me he doesn't approve of this. It makes me feel like he's part of the plan because he wants to be, not just because he's my djinn.

"Oh."

I can feel Seokjin's gaze on the side of my face, but he doesn't say anything more. Instead, he half steps through the curtain so he can reach to adjust my necklace, then behind my neck to pull the lehenga's blue veil over my head. His hand lingers at my shoulder for a moment before he pulls away.

"I'll let you know when to come out and what to do, okay?"

"Okay."

And with my confirmation, he leaves again.

Just like that.

Yoongi stays with me this time, sensing my nervousness - the fury seething under my skin which he calms by curling on my lap with a soft purr. For just that tiny stretch of time, peace falls over me. Yoongi warm and heavy on my lap, sunlight seeping through the gauzy curtains, and the gentle sway of the palanquin begin picked up again...

So much is going on, but right now feels like it'll be the last piece of serenity I'll have for a while, so I savour it.

I can only hope that this all works out.

i can do this all day masterlist

[hot-wiings]

Comment If You'd Like To Be Added To The Taglist.

Edited: 5-5-20

Kai had his hand on your back as you walked together to the room where he would once again be meeting with the league of villains, however this time he wouldn't be meeting with their leader.

This time he wouldn't be meeting with the leader but rather some of the men that Shigaraki temporarily traded to Kai over whatever business they had excluded you from when they went to talk in private.

Kai led you back to the same couch with the same glass table. Not wanting to work Kai up, you quickly took your seat and kept your head hung low.

You were sure you looked as pathetic as you felt. All scared and polite. You were hugging yourself and made yourself look as small as possible. You were simply playing the game to survive.

You weren't sure why Kai even brought you to another business meeting, especially after he excluded you from parts of the last one. You were nearly positive that Kai was letting you out of the bedroom as a reward for the way he forced himself on you the previous night.

But no amount of rewards would make up for it. No amount of rewards could make up for the way he made you feel.

It wouldn't make up for the way you flinched when someone touched you. It wouldn't make up for the way you couldn't look people in the eyes.

It wouldn't make up for the way you felt so lonely, and naked under the gaze of everybody you passed. It wouldn't make up for the nagging voice in the back of your head that said you deserved it, that it would've been avoided if you loved him better.

You truly didn't know if you wanted to hate Kai for doing it, or if you wanted to hate yourself for not fighting him better.

Kai sat down next to you and you slightly flinched. You tried not to pull away from him, but you did. You raised your head and saw him look over at you, and the look in his eyes said it all. You shouldn't have flinched, you shouldn't have pulled away. You knew once the meeting was over you would be in trouble.

You lowered your head again and bit on your lip as the group of villains came into the room. They stood across from you and you stared at their shoes, too intimidated to meet their eyes.

The first pair of shoes were brown. They stopped above the ankle and the wearer had grey knee-high socks. The second person had ash-white shoes, they looked like they were leather or latex, you weren't sure. The last pair of shoes were a pair of combat boots.

You were sure the combat boots belonged to Dabi, the villain you met at the last meeting. Your lips slowly quipped into a smile. Kai could take everything. You freedom, your dignity, but he wouldn't have this.

Kai had yet to figure out how you destroyed the ties of your dress. He would never know that it was Dabi, a random man showing you an act of kindness. This was one thing you would always have, a secret Kai would never know. Despite the naked, violated feeling Kai gave you, you could find solace in the stapled mans smile. 

"My name's Toga and I was told to come here. Hiya."

"Long time no see, birdman. Be warned, I'll never forgive you. So happy to be on the team!"

"Dabi." 

Despite the second man's half peppy sentence, you could tell the group of villains weren't happy about being here. You wondered what it was Kai must have done to them to cause such anger, but it wasn't hard to guess.

"Wonderful. Sorry about the whole Magna thing. It's unfortunate, I didn't wanna kill him."

"You mean her."

"Don't make that mistake again."

You could tell Kai wasn't really remorseful, he was just playing nice with his new lackeys. If anything, he was remorseful because he had to get his hands dirty. 

"Anyway, this is no time to be making grudges, we're on the same team now. I want your help with my plan."

"Bastard, you tried to play it cool the first time we met too, like you don't care about anything. So what are our orders?"

"Just follow what I tell everyone else in the organization. But first things first. I want the details of your quirks. It'll be easier for us to work together if I can fully understand what you do."

You couldn't help but let your eyes linger on Dabi's face. You knew you shouldn't stare, especially with your boyfriend next to you, but you couldn't find the will to care. The more you thought of Kai or anyone associated with him, you thought of the way he held you down. But when you looked at Dabi, you thought of the way he smited the ties off your dress. You thought of the way he helped you. 

"I think I'll tell you about my powers when you need to know about them, and just so we're clear, I don't like you people."

"I agree with Toga, we'll tell you when we feel like it. Won't get anything outta me. No way. My lips are sealed."

"What is your quirk?"

Memento, using his quirk, forced the ash-colored villain to talk.

"I can make doubles of anything. I can make two doubles at a time. Huh, what just happened. It's like the words just tumbled out of my mouth."

"So much for my lips are sealed."

"What is your quirk."

"If I drink someone's blood I can turn into them. If I drink lots of blood I can turn into multiple people."

The girl, Toga, looked shocked that the information was pulled out of her. Memento turned his eyes to Dabi, ready to force him to pipe up with his own quit. However Dabi spits the information out willingly, he must have realized Memento had a quirk which could force his words.

"Cremation. I can create blue flames from my hands."

"One more thing. Did Shigaraki say anything about betraying me." 

The three villains each say different variations of no in unison. You wondered if they were lying based on their body stance, but Dabi seemed calm. Although, you suspected you could kill someone in front of him and he would be calm. Something about the teal eyed villain gave you vibes that he was a chill guy.   

"Alright then, I'll accept you as members of the Shie Hassaikai. You'll be part of my temp squad, except for you. Your staples are too attention-grabbing. I want you to stay inside the facility and watch her. Follow her around wherever she wants, just don't let her leave or see Eri."

Kai leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

"See, good girls get rewards." 

It wasn't a reward but a punishment. Punishment in the form of a reward. A punishment for flinching away from his touch. He knew this would kill you. The ability to roam around the base but not being allowed to see her, not even being allowed to break his rules because his dirty little worker would be watching you. It was going to kill you. 

Kai got up from the couch and beckoned for Toga and Twice to follow him, leaving you and Dabi alone. Dabi sat down pulled his shoes up on the couch and you had to smile, Kai would so strongly disapprove of it. But as quickly as the smile came, it disappeared.  

You hadn't noticed it at the time but Dabi was observing your expressions, just as he had been observing them when he first met you.

Dabi couldn't help but notice how you smiled at him, but this was a different kind of smile. This with the type of smile he remembered from his childhood. The kind of smile he remembered his mother showing people. He only hoped that the circumstances of your expression were different.

"Who's Eri?"

"Eri is my little sister." 

"How come Kai said your not allowed to see her?"

"His whole operation revolves around her, and I don't really condone or support his actions."

Dabi gets off the couch he was sitting on and walks over to the one your on. He peered down at you and held his hand out for you to grab. 

"I told your little boyfriend Shigaraki wasn't planning to betray him. That didn't include me betraying him. Let's go find your sister." 

"Really?"

Your lips quipped up into a huge smile and Dabi looked away as his cheeks heated up. Your smile was so wide and bubbly, it was ethereal. There were only three people who smiled like that because of Dabi, but they were long gone from life. He liked the feeling he got when he made you smile, it reminded him of his childhood. 

"Yeah. It'll be a secret between us."