#but whatever!! consider the ice broken! scary part is over!!

[luridparty]

twirlinggggggg aiuggughhhh....... grins reaaaaaally wide. ouheheheheheeeeeeee YES.

[implexedactions]

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear.  Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes. 

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things. 

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks. 

 Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

 That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

 To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

 You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

[mxrcayong]

part of @nct-writers​’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere. 

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers. 

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.   

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?” 

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.     

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?” 

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.” 

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop. 

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat. 

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time. 

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.” 

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!” 

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.  

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.” 

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.” 

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N. 

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall. 

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners. 

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?” 

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry. 

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?” 

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours. 

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee. 

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall. 

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better. 

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves. 

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.” 

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks. 

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.” 

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list. 

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.  

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations. 

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme. 

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens. 

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right. 

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.” 

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry. 

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold)  at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding. 

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.” 

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off. 

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say. 

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly. 

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened. 

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’. 

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.  

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share. 

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall: 

Dear residents of the second floor, 

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!” 

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part two.   here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone.  tw:  war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝  god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death.  ❞

❝  that’s what yom kippur means:  the day of atonement.  ❞

❝  that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff.  ❞

❝  normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady.  ❞

❝  thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in.  ❞

❝  suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year.  ❞

❝  the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library.  ❞

❝  why does time only run forward?  why does cause need to precede effect?  ❞

❝  no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not.  ❞

❝  i didn’t say i was interested.  ❞

❝  [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day.  ❞

❝  coffee. i was making coffee.  ❞

❝  i didn't mean to get stuck out here.  ❞

❝  that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things:  take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were.  ❞

❝  she was good at that:  making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her.  ❞

❝  i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment.  ❞

❝  maybe there was someone in the stairs.  ❞

❝  i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today.  ❞

❝  i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one.  ❞

❝  i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition.  ❞

❝  whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it—  ❞

❝  when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better.  ❞

❝  honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head.  ❞

❝  snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it.  ❞

❝  i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there…  ❞

❝  would you say you… considered her a friend?  ❞

❝  would you mind saying your name again?  for the recording?  ❞

❝  if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab.  ❞

❝  most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too.  ❞

❝  i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with…  ❞

❝  if i could sleep, then trust me, i would.  ❞

❝  i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is.  ❞

❝  my schooling was expensive and unremarkable.  ❞

❝  a lot of them died afraid and alone, too:  ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience.  ❞

❝  look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind…  ❞

❝  basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong.  ❞

❝  now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama..  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t get you sacked.  ❞

❝  i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell.  ❞

❝  i think it may have been a thank you.  ❞

❝  i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on.  ❞

❝  i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early.  ❞

❝  everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper.  ❞

❝  i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall.  ❞

❝  it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void.  ❞

❝  if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker.  ❞

❝  better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927.  ❞

❝  i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here.  ❞

❝  goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food.  ❞

❝  i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood?  ❞

❝  no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a.  ❞

❝  what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning?  ❞

❝  you ever wonder where the line is?  you know, between human and not?  ❞

❝  the funny thing i’ve noticed about war:  no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ❞

❝  a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary.  ❞

❝  i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it.  ❞

❝  the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights.  ❞

❝  it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping.  ❞

❝  perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another.  ❞

❝  most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade.  ❞

❝  i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open!  ❞

❝  i don’t know why she needed my help:  i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers.  ❞

❝  we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye.  ❞

❝  i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried.  ❞

❝  it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front.  ❞

❝  i offered to buy him a cup of coffee.  ❞

❝  newspapers praised them at the time:  saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage.  ❞

❝  i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there.  ❞

❝  i did the only thing that came to mind:  i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it.  ❞

❝  i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully.  ❞

❝  given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse.  ❞

❝  i really can’t see anything from inside the van.  ❞

❝  i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them.  ❞

❝  it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man.  ❞

❝  i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away.  ❞

❝  scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost.  ❞

❝  please… it burns my skin… please…  ❞

❝  i forgot how fast storms blow in up here.  ❞

❝  it’s not like i felt out of control:  it felt more natural than breathing.  ❞

❝  i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next.  ❞

❝  it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years.  ❞

❝  god, these things are creepy as hell.  ❞

❝  if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course.  ❞

❝  it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again.  ❞

❝  it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there.  ❞

❝  i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep.  ❞

❝  i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school.  ❞

❝  they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon.  ❞

❝  i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t…  ❞

❝  my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call.  ❞

❝  i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t.  ❞

❝  i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient.  ❞

❝  god, if that’s really how i sound…  ❞

❝  people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it.  ❞

❝  i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.  ❞

❝  i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how.  ❞

❝  well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes.  ❞

❝  i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over.  ❞

❝  maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here…  ❞

❝  no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems.  ❞

❝  i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading.  ❞

❝  i have to say, i like your jane doe.  ❞

❝  she was a scientist herself.  maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities.  ❞

❝  seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity?  hang a  ‘ do not disturb ’  sign on the door?  change all my locks?  ❞

❝  maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’  ❞

❝  jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday.  ❞

❝  maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea.  ❞

❝  more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then.  ❞

❝  now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here.  ❞

❝  the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon.  ❞

❝  i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed.  ❞

❝  it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of.  ❞

❝  huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before.  ❞

❝  apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave.  ❞

❝  maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them.  ❞

❝  i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice.  ❞

❝  sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old…  ❞

❝  okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright?  can’t exactly retire on this salary.  ❞

❝  but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared.  ❞

❝  i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened.  ❞

❝  i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more.  ❞

❝  whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous.  ❞

❝  are you familiar with temporal asymmetry?  ❞

❝  i just want to make that abundantly clear:  this /wasn’t/ the plan.  ❞

❝  right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record.  ❞

❝  though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.  ❞

❝  a cracker of a book, young lady.  ❞

❝  no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares.  ❞

❝  i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around?  ❞

❝  i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there.  ❞

❝  having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time.  ❞

❝  we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason:  no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen.  ❞

❝  i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real.  ❞

❝  when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead.  ❞

[hannie-dul-set]

wc: 3.9k | warnings: swearing, some violence, cheating mentions

it was past noon when you and seolhee parted ways after eating lunch at an admittedly over-priced restaurant. you two decided to go out because she was leaving the school in two days. the whole jeno incident led almost the entirety of the student body to deem her not too fondly, so even if you wanted her to continue her education here, it would only be hard for her to cope with.

seolhee said that she did not expect jeno to apologize for the things that he did, but you still had your hopes up. which was why the conversation you two had over lunch made you feel a lot lighter inside.

("he said sorry! oh my god, i'm still thinking that it was a dream."

you let out a laugh at your friend's upbeat demeanor, reaching out to a napkin to wipe your lips. seolhee accidentally hit the table from her excitement, but luckily none of your drinks toppled down. "well, he could do more than apologize," you started. "maybe make it up to you by clearing up the situation that happened at the cafeteria so that you wouldn't have to transfer."

a slight frown tugged down the corners of her mouth. "an apology is enough for me, really. that much already means a lot considering his personality. and even if he does clear it up, i've already enrolled at eastwood so there's no undoing it anymore."

you placed down your fork, looking at the hazy expression on your friend's face, and then you opened your mouth to speak.

"do you still like him?"

seolhee choked on her drink.

"no!" she hastily wiped away the stray droplets that made their way onto her chin, staring at you as if you've just accused her of a crime. "of course not! oh my god, y/n—" there was a red hue that washed over her face, and you couldn't hold in your laughter. "i—i was just happy that jeno has the capacity to change. he actually seemed genuine, you know? it was the first time i've seen him like that."

seolhee droned on about how the confrontation went. you didn't get to listen even though you were on the line with seolhee— after hearing jeno's intentions of asking her to meet, you ended the call to respect their privacy.

"he told me that i could punch him if i wanted."

"did you?"

"i would've ended up with a broken hand."

giggles erupted and the clacking of utensils followed after. you finished your meal before her, taking a sip from the remaining liquid in your glass with the straw. it was still quite early, so you figured that you still had an ample amount of time to talk.

"i'm glad that everything turned out well for you, seolhee," you started, placing down your glass on the table. "but remember not to sell yourself short. you shouldn't be satisfied with the bare minimum."

"i know…" she sighed. "that's the most we could get out of him at the moment, and i'm satisfied with that. actually, i don't think he would have even done anything if you didn't reach out to him. so thank you, y/n."

seolhee held gratitude in her eyes as she looked at you, and you pressed your lips together into a thin smile.)

you stared at your phone as you sent your last message to seolhee, walking down the sidewalk on the way to the bakery that chenle and jisung always went to. they were close with the owners, apparently, but you've never gone there until now. the smell of freshly baked goods sent you the signal that you were nearby, and you confirmed upon seeing the lines of pastries displayed from behind the glass windows of a cream painted building.

it was a quick purchase, your hands now full thanks to the three boxes of assorted pastries. you were sure that they'd fight over it if you only got them one— so getting one for each of them would be much better. the other one was for you to bring home to your parents later.

"thank you so much, taeyong! i'll be sure to stop by often," you shot the handsome man behind the counter a smile before turning towards the exit.

"bring the kids with you too! they haven't gone here in a long time and i'm starting to think they've forgotten about me," you laughed at his words, nodding, before finally facing the glass doors that led outside. taeyong was nice, and you were already planning your next visit here. there was brightness in your face as you reached for the door handle, though with great difficulty considering the stack of boxes that you were trying to balance with your other hand.

you were about to push the door open, but you froze, brows furrowed, and the brightness of your face dimmed down. there was a scene going on from across the street— four people ushering themselves into an alleyway. normally you wouldn't be as affected, but you knew these people, and an ominous feeling buried itself in your gut.

"taeyong?" you turned around once more, eliciting a curious expression from the older male. "can i leave these here for a while? i'll be back, there's just something i need to do."

he was evidently confused by your sudden request, but he relented without any questions. you thanked him one last time before finally exiting the bakery, making your way across the street.

"had fun fucking my girlfriend last night, lee?"

it was difficult for donghyuck to maintain his carefree composure when he was shoved against the brick wall with his ribs and jaw throbbing in pain. sweat trickled down his forehead and his hearbeat rang in his ears. he wondered how the fuck was he supposed to get himself out of this situation. 

"look, hyunsung. i get that you're pissed, but let's tone down the violence, yeah?" donghyuck let out a wave of nervous laughter, raising his hands in front of him in surrender. "i didn't know she had a boyfriend! so can you really blame me?"

that was a lie. donghyuck knew well that cheonhee (or whatever her name is) was, in fact, taken. someone from the party last night told him so but he didn't exactly give much of a fuck. he thought it would be fine because they were from different schools, anyway— but it looked like he was being too careless.

hyunsung still had him trapped against the wall by the collar, the bigger male's glare drilling holes into his skin. donghyuck knew he wouldn't make it out alive if he made a run for it. he wasn't that strong or fast, and the damned neanderthal still had two other friends to back him up. all donghyuck could rely on was to somehow fool him into letting him go.

but even that didn't seem easy.

"you think i'm gonna believe that, you little bitch?"

donghyuck's blood ran cold and the grin on his face twitched. he felt his lungs squeezing in suffocation when he was pushed harder into the concrete walls, even if what he was saying was true, hyunsung was seeing too much red to believe him. a fist was raised, and he prepared himself for the impact of the third punch.

"kim hyunsung, jung hayoon, and kang jiho."

a gentle voice somehow stopped hyunsung from moving. a mixture of confusion and relief washed over donghyuck, but that was quickly overturned by unease. he froze. he knew that voice, and he internally cursed.

oh my fucking god, were you stupid? at that point, donghyuck decided that being punched would have been the much better option. why the hell were you here? and another question— how did you know these people? worry was writhing inside his gut and he bit down his lip as he watched you walk closer to the scene.

"i didn't expect to see you again, y/n," hyunsung's attention was momentarily diverted to you, but he was still helpless pinned on the wall. jesus fuck, this guy was strong. your gaze quietly moved over to donghyuck, and he hoped that you got the message that he was mouthing. hyunsung leered at him, which brought donghyuck to quickly shut his mouth.

your lips tugged down into a frown. "and i expected that all those corrective sessions with the dean would've at least made a dent into that personality of yours."

hyunsung scoffed. "righteous as always. you know this fucker?"

"he's a friend," you calmly stated, and donghyuck narrowed his eyes. what were you planning? "and i suggest that you let him go."

there was a phone in your hands and the screen was open. he couldn't see what was on it, but then you flashed it over for him and the other three boys to see. "i believe you were already at your final warning before i transferred from daeil academy."

donghyuck could see hyunsung's jaw clench as the guy glared at your phone, and it caught his intrigue. on your tiny phone screen was what seemed to be an open conversation with someone, and on the message box were a series of similar pictures waiting to be sent. donghyuck couldn't see the pictures clearly, nor did he know who were you planning on sending it to, but he got the gist of situation.

"hayoon and jiho might not get any major punishments," your eyes flickered over to the two boys, and they froze upon your stare. hyunsung's grip tightened. "but you're already on your last thread, hyunsung. you'd be expelled once the dean sees this."

at that point, donghyuck concluded that you were very very scary. but you were also very stupid for getting yourself involved in his own problems. no matter how much leverage you had over hyunsung at the moment, a guy like him would still find a way to get back at you.

"you've already done a number on the guy. don't you think that's enough?" you reasoned. "this isn't my business in the first place, so i won't send this if you let him go."

hyunsung's glare was as cold as ice.

"delete it."

but you didn't seem to be shaken at all.

"of course."

you sighed, explicitly showing to him that you permanently deleted the evidence from your phone. hyunsung finally let go of donghyuck, and he released a long breath, hid hands gently nursing the bruise on his face. the pain on his jaw and chest was momentarily dulled by his fear that you'd also get pummeled, but it once again resurfaced and donghyuck flinched at the throbbing feeling.

"you're still the same, y/n," hyunsung let out a bitter chuckle, signalling the two other boys to start moving, and you sent him a nod and a smile.

the three eventually left, but donghyuck still hadn't moved from his spot. he stared at you who seemed to be frozen in thought, that is until you released a sharp huff of breath and your knees nearly gave in to the floor.

"oh dear god, i thought i was going to die," you exhaled, sauntering over to donghyuck who was ready to catch you in case you actually did fall over, but you shot him a glare to stop him. "don't move— you're hurt."

donghyuck gulped and firmly nodded in obedience. you found yourself before him, but you didn't say anything further yet. you didn't scold him or ask him if he was sleight. instead you had your yes locked on your phone, fingers tapping down before shutting it off and shoving it down into your pocket. you finally looked up to him, and your brow raised upon seeing his puzzled expression.

"what were you doing?"

"sent a message to the dean."

his eyes widened. jesus, you were seriously scary. before donghyuck could press on any further, you quickly snatched his hand, staring over to the only opening that led out of the alley. "c'mon, let's go."

you already started walking before he could even retort, dragging the flabbergasted male behind you. "w-wait, where are you taking me?"

there was no answer from you, instead you just kept on walking and donghyuck was left with no choice but to follow.

“will you two be okay?”

“mhm! thank you so much, taeyong!”

the both of you were hidden in the furthermost area of the bakery, donghyuck sitting on the available chairs with a pack of ice firmly pressed against his bruised jaw. taeyong had been generous enough to let you two stay here for a while (the ice was from his, as well), and you promised to buy another box of pastries to thank him, to which he firmly refused with the shaking of his head.

“just make sure you get the guy home safe, okay?” he told you before going back to man the store. you concluded that taeyong was perhaps the nicest person you’ve ever met, and you were suddenly worried by the idea that chenle and jisung might have extorted this man’s kindness somehow (the former, mostly).

“y/n.”

donghyuck’s voice— lacking the confidence and cockiness that it usually held— called out to you amidst your thoughts. your ears perked as you sat before him, leaning forward in your seat and your eyelashes fluttered as you waited for him to continue. he wasn’t looking at you though, eyes in a faraway daze as he looked at the bakery’s sleek wallpaper.

“thanks for saving my ass earlier.”

he muttered, a slight pout on his lips as he did. donghyuck couldn’t bear to look at you at the moment due to his stained pride, but he isn’t that prideful to miss out on actually thanking you. It was genuine, though the embarrassment of you seeing him so helpless was still present. he was suddenly afraid because you weren’t saying anything, but then the sound of your chair screeching as you closed in on him happened, and all he felt now was confusion.

“what are—” donghyuck was about to look at what the hell were you doing, but when your hand gently made contact with the non-injured side of his face, turning his head to look at your worry eyes, the words he was about to say fizzled into air in his throat, leaving his mouth agape in fluster.

“it’s fine, hyuck. does it still hurt?” the rapid pace of his pulse when you brushed away the ice pack in his other hand to examine the dark bruise somehow made him even sensitive to the pain when you mentioned it. he flinched, unable to say anything. “ah, this is gonna last a while. you should drink some painkillers in the meantime, okay?”

donghyuck gulped. oh my god, why were you so close. your soft voice flooded not only his ears, but his entire being and it felt like he was drowning in your presence. the pain that was screaming under his skin was blocked away, numbed into nothingness because all he could feel was how his heart was running to follow you even though you were already so, so close.

he wondered what the fuck was going on with him.

all of a sudden, he felt like an absolute idiot. how would people react upon seeing the rumored fuckboy, lee donghyuck, flaring up at something as innocent as this?

he needed to pull himself together.

“ah!" donghyuck made a hissing sound when your fingers brushed over the area again, instinctively jumping away from your hold, and your brows furrowed in worry. he pouted at you, pressing the half melted ice pack to soothe his jaw once more. "i don't think ice and painkillers would be enough to get rid of the pain, y/n."

instantly, your eyes widened in panic. "oh no, does it really hurt that bad? should i take you to the hospital? oh my gosh, what if it's broken? donghyuck, how much does it—"

"maybe you should kiss it better."

there was silence.

your voice stopped midway, mouth hanging open and you deliberately put it to a close. a cheeky grin was painted on donghyuck's face, one that made it look like he wasn't feeling any pain at all. he noticed the worry on your face being slowly washed away, replaced by your lack of emotion, and you stood up. once more you decided to move closer, walking up to him and barely hovering over and— wait a minute, were you actually gonna do it?

he didn't think about it this far, oh my god.

"wait. y/n, i was just— jesus fucking christ—"

"you deserved to get punched."

donghyuck let out a yelp of pain, hunched over as he hugged his torso. he forgot that he was also attacked on the ribs and was only reminded when you mercilessly jabbed your finger to his chest. he looked at you as you went back to your seat, letting out another groan. “did you just hope that i was also injured here or did you actually know and deliberately subjected me to pain?”

“the latter,” you hummed, crossing your legs. “i was watching from the beginning.”

“so you just let that bitch hyunsung attack me?”

“like i said— you deserved it.”

there wasn’t a hint of jest in your voice and features, meaning you really waited until the last moment before you decided to swoop in. donghyuck bit down his lip, unable to meet your eyes. you were there from the beginning meaning you knew why hyunsung was about to beat the living daylights out of him. suddenly he felt like he didn’t deserve to be saved by you.

"but why did you still help me?"

he was genuinely wondering why you did that. you let him get beat up for a while before deciding to finally get between, but why? it really didn’t make sense to donghyuck, and his heart hammered against his pained ribs while he waited for a response.

“did you really think i was just gonna leave you like that? hyuck, you’re my friend and i care about you.”

what was supposed to be an answer only raised more questions.

“but— but didn’t you say i deserve it?”

“i thought that two hits was enough.”

donghyuck was flustered by your responses and he didn’t even know why. people either sided with him or were against him yet you were situated at both boundaries at the same time. it was a kind of combination that brought him to a place in his head that he’d never been before. you probably noticed the flurry of emotions swirling in his face, so you decided to speak up.

“donghyuck, are you alright?”

“o-oh, yeah,” he shot up under your worried gaze, and he pressed his lips together before speaking. “thanks again for helping me.”

he felt like he wasn’t worthy of your kind smile. “a-also, can i ask a question?”

“go on.”

“don’t you think that i’m like… a shitty person?”

donghyuck was afraid of your response. he was afraid of hearing that you’d agree even though he knew that he was really a terrible person. more than anything, he was afraid of what you thought about him, actually.

“i don’t think so,” you said. “but maybe you’ve done a lot of things before that would be considered ‘shitty’.”

he was genuinely surprised by your answer.

“it’s never too late, hyuck.”

it was quiet for a moment, but it was welcome. donghyuck took this time to think for a moment, to actually get in touch with the mess that had been long ignored in his head. he looked at you as you silently busied yourself with your phone, lips pursed in a manner that had his chest tightening. as if you noticed him staring, you shut off your phone and faced him.

“i think we’ve been loitering here for too long,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. “should we go?”

donghyuck nodded before scrambling to get up. he went over to pick up the boxes neatly placed on the table beside you, but you quickly smacked his hands away. “what?”

“do you think i’m gonna let you bring all of this while you’re injured?”

“y/n, my hands are fine. didn’t you watch as my face and chest got brutally assaulted?”

“you’re still hurt, hyuck,” you protested. “also i’m not letting you go home by yourself. what if hyunsung decides to come after you? do you have anyone to come pick you up?”

donghyuck bit down his lip at your question. he wasn’t planning on going home and he somehow knew that you weren’t going to let him off easily if he told you that. there were many options that flooded his head on what he should tell you— maybe he could say that he’ll head to his dad’s company so that you wouldn’t have to worry, or maybe he can call renjun or jeno pretending that it was his mom.

but for some reason he didn’t want to lie to you.

“um,” his eyes were trained behind you when he spoke. “i don’t really want to tell either of my parents to know what happened... and i don’t want to stay at home, either.”

surprisingly, you didn’t press any further.

“okay,” you assured, and he sighed. he didn’t think that one simple okay could make him feel lighter. “still, i don’t like the idea of letting you off on your own. why don’t we call one of your friends?”

wait a second—

“should we ask jeno? wait, maybe we shouldn’t bother him for now.”

donghyuck’s face paled.

“what about renjun? ah, he might be busy today.”

god, please no—

“oh, let’s ask nana! maybe he’d let you stay over at his to rest for the time being.”

he wanted to stop you, but you were already calling him, and his blood ran cold. there wasn’t a problem with him staying over at jaemin’s— he was actually planning on doing that, anyway. the problem laid on the fact that jaemin would probably kill him once he found out that you were with him. donghyuck was too dumbstruck by the situation to even realize that wait— how did you know jeno and renjun? you even had their numbers? what the fuck?

“thank you so much, nana! i’ll text you the address,” there was a smile on your face when you were talking to him, and donghyuck didn’t want to get rid of it by telling you that the person on the end of the line was probably scowling at your request right now. that would also mean that he’d have to tell you that jaemin had been trying to pursue you, and he didn’t want to get in the middle of that.

so all he could do was smile and nod as he waited for his friend’s wrath.

but much to his surprise and relief, it never came. because the moment jaemin arrived to drag his ass to his house, he seemed to be too distracted by you to even look at him. he noticed something different from his friend; the bright gleam on his face when he looked at you was something he had never seen before, and it welcomed a feeling that he had never felt before.

“thanks again, nana! i’ll see you two tomorrow,” when you finally parted ways, donghyuck expected to finally be berated by his friend for, once again, not listening when he told him to stay away from you, but all that happened was the dimming down of his previous elated demeanor.

“let’s go?”

jaemin uttered without a trace of anger or malice or anything— and donghyuck was more unnerved by this. he nodded in response, wordlessly trailing behind his friend as he went over to crash at his place for the umpteenth time that week.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE // A HEART FOR A HEART

as they say, what goes around comes around. so when you break a hundred hearts out of the selfishness of your actions— be prepared to get your own heart broken a hundred times, as well.

24 // kiss it better

a/n: it’s 12:30am as i’m typing this and i’m just about to shut down oh my god ayways i hope you enjoyed this part!! some hyuck action hehehehe i’d say more shit but i’m really so tired rn so good byE

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[not-wholly-unheroic]

Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

[giggles-and-freckles]

16. “I’ve got you.” and 82. “Just breathe, okay?” for Ahsoka and Anakin?

from this angst/fluff prompt list

[I clearly went with the angst side of things...]

“Ahsoka.” He squeezed her shoulders, urging her to wake up and get out of whatever nightmare she was living.

Her eyes remained shut tight against reality as her head tossed violently against her pillow. Beneath the covers, her legs kicked out against invisible enemies.

“Snips, come on.” Once again, Anakin grabbed her shoulders, tightening his grip to both still her and bring her to full-consciousness. 

With a gasp, she shot awake, her eyes flying open and a small scream tearing from her body.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Anakin assured her, encompassing his padawan in a hug that would have likely been too tight for any girl of her stature that wasn’t Ahsoka Tano.

She was tough, his Ahsoka, and he didn’t like seeing her look like she was undergoing torture.

Her body stayed stiff in his arms for longer than it should, so he gripped her tighter.

“Ahsoka,” he whispered into her shoulder. “Talk to me, Snips.”

She didn’t stop shaking, but her arms came up to weakly grip at his robe.

“I heard you screaming and I thought–” He stopped short, swallowing deeply. It was unrealistic for someone to have broken into the Temple, but that hadn’t stopped him from jumping out of bed and rushing to her room to check. It was scary for him to think about how quickly this Togruta had taken over such a huge part of his life. “I thought something had happened.”

“They won’t stop chasing me.”

“Who?”

A sob ripped from her in response and she collapsed into his chest, her arms falling back to the bed behind him. He wasn’t hugging her anymore–he was holding her.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, you’re safe.”

Anakin watched the wall behind her, wondering what he was supposed to do. Obi-Wan hadn’t prepared him for this; no one had. Ahsoka had been...off...for some time now, but he hadn’t even considered a nightmare as the source of the bloodcurdling scream and ice-cold warning through the Force.

She gasped into his chest, her breathing uneven and shallow.

“Snips,” he loosened his grip on her, dropping his hands to her arms. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

For all her struggles to follow orders, she chose that moment to at least try, her breaths coming ragged as she tried to sync her inhales with his.

“I’m–” a trembling breath, “I’m sorry, M–master.”

Anakin frowned. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“I didn’t mean to...to scream.”

“Well, obviously,” he said, his frown deepening. “It was a nightmare, Snips.”

Ahsoka’s breathing evened out after several silent minutes, her quivering puffs the only sound filling her dark quarters. It was in these moments that Anakin most wished for both of his hands. The metal of his cybernetic could only do so much to calm and console his padawan and he felt inadequate as he lightly clasped her arms.

“I want this war to be over,” she murmured into the space between them.

“Me, too.”

[thevioletjones]

34 for prompt list thing! 💖

Thanks! 💜

Prompt 4: “I might never get another chance to say this.”

Now to War

Ian understood why Mickey was still in the closet. That was never really the issue. He was aware of the deeply scary, tyrannical nature of Mickey’s father, and how his horrible ways had left a lasting impression that was hard for him to shake. However, Ian had eventually started to feel a burden that he was frankly sick of bearing.

He’d never asked or expected Mickey to openly date him in front of his own family, but he would've appreciated some kind of quiet commitment where maybe they could at least let Ian’s family in on the secret (Lip already knew, but Mickey didn’t know he knew). Ian’s family had always been supportive when it came to Ian’s orientation. He knew they’d be supportive of Mickey too, even if they didn’t fully understand him, or even like him. They just wanted Ian to be happy.

But Mickey couldn’t even give him that much. He still fucked women to please his dad; still worked as his right-hand man doing illegal shit, instead of forging his own path; still stayed under that disgusting, oppressive thumb with no plans to ever get out from under it. Mickey still just didn’t believe that he could do or be anything different; had resigned himself to this depressing fate of constantly repressing himself for the rest of his life.

Ian just couldn’t stomach it anymore. Part of that was selfish, because yeah, he wanted to have a real relationship that wasn’t full of darkness and drama all the time. But the bigger part of it was about how deeply he cared for Mickey. He hated witnessing what he considered Mickey’s slow demise over a long period of time. If Ian couldn’t convince him that he deserved better, then what exactly was he doing sticking by Mickey’s side? He couldn’t just let himself be a doormat and get treated like shit just because he was in lo—no, he had to stop thinking of it that way.

What was done was done, ancient history style. The last time shit had fallen apart and Mickey had kowtowed to his dad, tossing Ian’s heart in a blender in the process, Ian had ended things. For good. Probably. He was as terrible at staying away from Mickey as Mickey was at staying away from him. He couldn’t even count how many times they’d renounced each other at this point, but he was doing what he could to make it stick.

That’s why Ian had to go and force things to be different now. He couldn’t risk just falling back into the same old toxic pattern with his wayward ex. There were so many good qualities in Mickey that no one else really got to see, but at the end of the day, they couldn’t outweigh the bad enough to strike a fair balance when it came to Ian.

So after much consideration of options, Ian had finally done what he’d always intended, professionally speaking, and signed up for the army.

It had been nearly 8 months now. Basic and AIT had gone well, considering all his years of ROTC, and now he was back home for a brief visit before being deployed for the first time. He was excited to finally be fulfilling his lifelong dream of being active military, but if he said he wasn’t nervous as shit too, he’d be lying. There was a definite fear there in the background of his mind, but he’d always kind of lived for danger in a way. He liked conquering it.

He supposed every soldier went off to war thinking they wouldn’t be one of the ones to die or get severely wounded, and maybe he was an idiot for believing it, but despite that inevitable fear, Ian truly knew he’d be okay. He trusted his instincts and reactions to volatile situations (thanks, Gallagher family trauma), so he had to trust himself. Maybe if he believed in the idea of coming out the other side of combat unscathed enough, he would manifest it.

Still, no matter his sixth sense, there was that feeling of wanting to make sure that he left everything in his life back home in a nice, neat place, just in case he was terribly wrong and never set foot back on American soil again. He needed all of his important relationships to be appropriately cemented. It was easy with his family (well, the siblings portion of it, at least), but Mickey was a whole different story.

Despite having broken it off months ago, the idea of leaving that whole thread hanging felt terrifying. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel closure with Mickey, but he had to try. There was a good chance he’d either get mocked, or socked in the face for making overtures, but he had to try anyway.

He felt resolute as he walked toward the Milkovich house, but once it came into view, his insides were consumed with nerves until his gut twisted with the weight of his apprehension.

What if Mickey wasn’t there? What if Terry and a bunch of Mickey’s idiot brothers were laying about? What if Mickey had done the unthinkable and married some random whore so he could pretend he was straight to please his dad? Ian would hope that either Lip or Mandy would’ve informed him of such a development, but since Ian liked to bury things and not talk about them, maybe they’d just decided not to bring it up?

He took a deep breath, muttered, “Fuck it,” to himself, and made his way to the front door. All he could do was try. If Mickey was gone, or had forgotten him, or didn’t care anymore, then he’d just have to accept it and move on.

He gulped thickly as he knocked, hoping that at least Mickey would be the one to answer, and that the ability to form words based on coherent thoughts would manifest as needed.

He steeled himself for whatever might happen, standing with his back straight as an arrow as the door wrenched open.

The moment those ice-blue eyes met his, every single thought flew out of Ian’s head, feeling breathless as blood rushed to his head. Without a doubt, he’d never seen Mickey so surprised before. His ex wasn’t the type to be at a loss for words, but his mouth hung open, and the full irises of his eyes were exposed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there studying each other in silence before Ian gained the courage to speak.

“Hi, Mick.”

“Gallagher.” Clear uncertainty permeated his tone.

“Hope it’s not a bad time. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute?”

Mickey crossed his arms and widened his stance, walls going back up. “Been a long fuckin’ time. What, you find out you got an STD or some shit? Come to do the whole benevolent legal disclosure thing?”

One corner of Ian’s mouth lifted in a sad attempt at amusement. “Nah, nothing like that. Can I come in? Or if someone’s home, we can sit out here I guess.”

Mickey scanned him from head to toe, so Ian took advantage and did the same. “Never known you to come over for a conversation before.”

Ian nodded. “Look, I won’t stay long. I really just have something I need to say. Then, if you never wanna see me again, you won’t. I’d just rather not do it awkwardly standing in the doorway if possible.”

Mickey shrugged and walked into the house, leaving Ian to follow. “Whatever, man. No one else is here right now. Terry’s in the slammer, so he won’t barge in or anything.”

“Cool,” said Ian, closing the door behind him.

Mickey sat down on the couch, but Ian had no idea whether to follow or not. Didn’t know how close to get. He hated feeling so weird around Mickey. In spite of everything, he’d always felt a strange sense of comfort and belonging when they were together. Like he could just be himself. Well, a somewhat ‘withholding of affection’ version of himself, but the rest felt natural.

“You gonna sit the fuck down and spit it out or what?” Mickey demanded.

“Right…” Ian took a seat on the sofa, leaving the entire middle cushion between them. “Uh… I don’t really know where to start now that I’m here.” He chuckled nervously.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you fuckin’ dying or somethin’?”

Ian grimaced, unable to tame that tiny pessimistic molecule inside himself. “No. Well, I hope not. Uh, I enlisted.” He looked up from his lap to gauge Mickey’s reaction, pleased to find his expression slipping into something more serious and less put-upon. “I’ve been away training. Shippin’ out tomorrow. Last night home and all that.”

Mickey exhaled raggedly. “Fuck, Ian. The fuck’d you do that for?”

“You know I’ve always wanted to, Mick. Childhood dream and all that. Finally found a reason to bite the bullet, so to speak.”

Mickey ran a shaky hand over his face, snickering derisively. “Wow. So you came here to tell me you’re runnin’ off to get shot, and that it’s pretty much my fault too? That’s real swell of you, Firecrotch. Real nice.”

Ian shook his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s not a guilt-trip. I just needed you to know, in case…”

“In case what? You don't come back? You fuckin’ die?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Mickey shot to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his black hair, and worrying his pink lip. “So what? Now I'm s'posed to lay awake worryin’ about your stupid, army-go-lucky ass every night? That’s not a fuckin’ guilt-trip?”

“No, Mick, it’s not. It’s not really about you, but I couldn’t just leave without seein’ you again. I miss you, okay? I stand by what I did, leaving… still feels like I had to do it… but that doesn’t just turn the feelings off. I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

“Christ, Ian, what are you talkin’ about? Just stop.”

Ian stood up and walked toward Mickey, forcing him to meet his eye without laying a hand on him. “I won’t. Not this time. I might never get another chance to say this, and it would be great if you could just shut the fuck up for once in your life and listen. I don’t care if you have nothing to say to me in return, okay?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, looking very uncomfortable.

“There's a lotta reasons I left,” Ian continued, “but that doesn’t mean that I wanted to, as much as I needed to. You just never let me tell you what I was feeling. Which is fine. I always knew what you were about, and I know why you’re not out. I didn’t want to punish you, I just had to do it for me. Cuz I can’t live like that—”

“Why are you sayin’ all this shit to me now? It’s in the past.”

“I’m just trying to get to the point, fuck. Maybe I’m rambling. I just mean… I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I have to say it just once, and then I’ll go…” Ian took a deep breath, steadying himself for this ridiculous, sincere proclamation. “Mickey Milkovich, I love you. More than anything. And I’ll be thinkin’ about you while I’m over there. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll fade from your mind soon enough, anyway. But I'll remember you. The good stuff, you know? And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but now you know.”

Ian smiled dimly and put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, giving it a short squeeze. “Maybe this was selfish of me,” he added. “It feels good to get it off my chest, though. I hope you get to live your life the way you should one day, Mick. Just, you know… bein’ yourself. Not pretending. Happy; or something close to it. You deserve it.”

Mickey was as still and silent as a statue, probably completely unequipped to deal with all the shit Ian just threw at him, so Ian patted him on the cheek, moving to walk past. Which was fine. He hadn’t expected much more. The point was that Ian had said what he thought and felt, and now he could take that knowledge with him. Hopefully one day, Mickey would get it. Maybe take Ian’s words to heart. Maybe break away and live his truth in some way. And Ian would find his own path too. He was doing what he could to search for it.

He only made it a couple steps, though, before he felt Mickey’s hand slide around his wrist, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he heard Mickey say softly.

“Don’t what?”

“Just… don’t.”

And then Mickey’s lips were on his for the first time in months, and he couldn’t believe it was happening. His sense memory activated, and he put everything he had into the kiss, in case it was all he got.

It wasn’t all he got, though, because Mickey’s passion matched his own in that moment, and their mutual understanding of each other’s bodies took over. The clothes were coming off before they even made it to the bedroom.

Ian hadn’t expected goodbye sex on his last night in town, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy to receive it… or give it, as it were. What he expected even less than that was Mickey suddenly becoming verbal again.

He was letting him stay the night, and they were practically sharing a pillow, just staring at each other. Not something that had usually been on the menu when they were together.

“Why’d you have to come say all this shit now?” asked Mickey. “When you’re just gonna leave again, maybe for good this time?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you’re good at the army bullshit, alright? I’ve seen you shoot. Seen your nerd-ass training. But no one can control bullets and bombs in a war zone, Gallagher. Plus, even if all goes well, you might still settle down somewhere else, right? Go full army life and live full-time on a base somewhere.”

“Are you saying that if I were here you’d want things to be different?”

Mickey sighed, running a thumb over Ian’s cheek in a way that was almost gentle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Mick—”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do. But…”

“But what?”

“Since we’re talkin’ fuckin’ life and death and all that heavy shit… I should say… that I feel it too.”

“Feel what too?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and smacked Ian’s cheek. “You know what.”

“I really don’t,” said Ian, biting his lip with a mixture of anxiety and glee.

Mickey sighed very loudly, huffing and puffing like saying the actual words would kill him. “I…”

“You?”

“God, I hate you. But I love you. I love your stupid, freckly, gingery ass. And I don’t fuckin’ want you to go off to war, okay?”

Ian’s grin stretched across his entire face. “You mean it?”

“No, I'm fuckin’ lyin’, cuz admitting warm and fuzzies is my favorite sarcastic pastime, asshole.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey tenderly once more. “Will you wait for me?”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face now, dipshit.”

“Will you?”

“Fuck no!”

“Yeah you will.”

“I really won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

“I think we can squeeze a few more in.”

“You got the shittiest timing of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ian shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Gallagher curse.”

“You stupid motherfucker. Better not die.”

When Ian got on the bus the next afternoon, he felt so much lighter. And the future was something that he looked forward to. Whatever came.

[arofili]

Reunions and/or Take Me Instead with Maedhros, Fingon and Gil-Galad/other adoptees?

(I was going to go the angstiest possible route with this but the only context I could think of would’ve taken a thousand words just in setup so I scrapped it and did this instead, lol. Have some probably-unrealistic tooth-rottingly-fluffy Russingon kidfic!)

55. Reunions || 64. Take Me Instead

“Atya!” Gil-galad cried, his little face lighting up as he saw his father striding down the hall. Heedless of proper princely etiquette, he rushed forward and barrelled into Maedhros, grabbing tight at his legs and beaming up at his (very, very) tall father.

Maedhros’ face split into a grin. His son barely reached his waist (they joked he got his height from Fingon’s side of the family, when in reality he got everything from Fingon’s aunt, his birth mother) but he’d grown a few inches since Maedhros had seen him last. Back then he was level with his thighs; now he could reach up to tickle Maedhros’ stomach as his other father was so fond of doing to him.

“Stop that,” Maedhros scolded gently, swatting Gil’s hands away. It wasn’t as if he could feel it beneath his armor, but Gil thought it was hilarious when he pretended to be overcome with fits of giggles. There was no one else, not even Fingon, who could make Maedhros laugh like that.

“Where’s your adar?” he asked, scooping Gil up into his arms.

“Dunno!” Gil shrugged. “Atya, put me on your shoulders?”

Maedhros couldn’t say no, though he worried Gil’s head would brush the ceiling if he did so. “Don’t you think you’re tall enough?” he asked even as he lifted Gil up and settled him on his shoulders.

Gil immediately clapped his hands over Maedhros’ eyes. “Nope!” he exclaimed. “When I’m as tall as you, then I’ll be tall enough!”

“I don’t know,” Maedhros said thoughtfully, squinting through the little gaps between Gil’s fingers and carefully making his way forward. “Your adar is awfully short...what if you only get to his height?”

“But you’re tall, and you’re my Atya,” Gil pointed out. Maedhros sighed: Gil was still too young to really understand the truth of his heritage, even should they explain it to him.

“I suppose,” he said instead of something damning. “And your Uncle Turukáno, your adar’s brother is nearly as tall as I am.”

Gil snorted, moving his hands so they wrapped around Maedhros’ neck. His chin rested on Maedhros’ head, and he felt Gil’s jaw move as he protested, “No way!”

“It’s true,” Maedhros said solemnly, glancing up to see his son staring down at him. “You’ve never met him, but he’s almost as scary as I am.”

Gil scoffed. In the early days, when he’d grown comfortable with Fingon but had just barely met Maedhros, he’d been terrified of him. It broke Maedhros’ heart to see this little child so afraid, flinching back like he was a monster (and you are, some treacherous part of himself whispered, the part that was easier to ignore when Finno and Gil were around), especially when Fingon clearly adored him so and wanted Maedhros to love him too...

Maedhros’ love wasn’t the problem, but his scarred and broken face. In time Gil had come to love him, too—his exuberant welcome and his ease atop Maedhros’ shoulders was proof enough of that—but he still remembered how scary Maedhros had been. Gil probably still thought he was hideous, but good for scaring away real monsters. At least, that’s what Maedhros hoped.

“Who’s scarier than you are?” Fingon asked, rounding the corner. His eyes shone with a joyous light to behold his husband and his son smiling together, and the tenderness in his smile made Maedhros’ chest warm.

“Turno,” Maedhros said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hmmm...” Fingon made a show of considering, even as Gil-galad wriggled and demanded to get down. Maedhros crouched so Fingon could lift him off his shoulders.

At last Fingon tapped Gil’s nose. “You know what, I think your atya’s right,” he pronounced. “My brother is scarier—if only because he’s so scarily boring!”

“Atya isn’t boring!” Gil agreed. “Atya fights dragons all day and builds castles out of ice and breathes fire into Stinky Man’s face!”

Maedhros winced: “Stinky Man” was Fingon’s playful name for Þauron in Gil’s bedtime stories, where he was a much more comic villain prone to tripping and falling off mountains or wearing false mustaches that get ripped off by a brave Adanic warrior, exposing him as a spy. It took the sting out of the worst of Maedhros’ memories of his torment, which was half the point, but he couldn’t help but wish he was half as valiant as the fiery hero in Gil’s stories.

“And I’m nearly as boring as Uncle Turno,” Fingon sighed. “What do I do but send you off to your nursemaids and write letters to people who hate me?”

“You tell him stories,” Maedhros offered. “You’re always there to tuck him into bed while I’m far away in the east. You give him kisses—”

“Ewww,” Gil groaned, only for both his fathers to descend upon him and kiss him until he squirmed out of Fingon’s hold and ran away.

Before Fingon could chase after him, Maedhros stopped him and took the opportunity to kiss his husband thoroughly on the lips. Fingon gasped and leaned into him, but pulled away all too quickly.

“Not now, love,” he murmured, but the way his eyes shone and the gold in his hair gleamed in the torchlight was all Maedhros could ever ask for.

“Gross,” Gil-galad shouted, then darted around the corner.

“Gil, come back!” Fingon laughed. “We’re going to have dinner as a family, with Haru too, and then I’ll give you a bath—”

“No baths! I hate taking baths!” Gil whined, even as Maedhros strode ahead, catching up quickly thanks to his long legs, and grabbed him firmly by the hand.

“I’ll take you to the baths no matter what, you dirty little elfling!” Fingon scolded. “I know you visited the stables earlier today; I can smell the horse on you!”

“Take me instead, if Gil doesn’t want to,” Maedhros offered, winking at his husband. “I’ve been riding for days, I’m sure I stink worse than Gil does.”

“Not as bad as Stinky Man,” Fingon quipped, but a fire smoldered in his eyes as he brushed Maedhros’ shoulder. I plan on taking you more than just to the baths, he whispered across their bond. It’s been far too long.

Maedhros shivered with anticipation. I look forward to it, he replied.

“How about we talk Haru into bathing you instead?” Maedhros proposed.

Gil considered this. “Only if it’s his bath,” he decided. “It’s huge, like a swimming pool!”

“You have the best ideas, Russo!” Fingon exclaimed. How long do you think we could convince my father to handle him?

Long enough for whatever you’re planning, Maedhros replied, and knew that while he certainly was not the luckiest elf in Beleriand, he was the most blessed when it came to this, his perfect little family.

[plus-size-reader]

Breaking Out

Peter Quill x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1797 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Reader is the only other Terrain that Peter has ever met as an adult. They bond in prison and when the others escape, he takes her with him.

——————————————————————————————————

The universe was vast and wide, with planets and worlds unknown to even the most well-versed within it.

It was for that reason alone that Peter had never come across another terrain in all of his travels. After all, abductions didn’t really take place often on earth. 

However, there was no denying that you were, in fact, human. 

As soon as Peter saw you across the common room of the Kyln, he knew it. There would be no way to confuse it, but that didn’t make it any easier to understand. 

He had no idea how you’d gotten here or what business you had here. There was only one thing that he knew for sure, and that was that he had to meet you. 

There was no way he could pass up the chance to meet the only other terrain he’d ever seen here. 

You were, by no means, welcoming when he approached where you were sitting. You were surrounded by inmates, on any side but that wasn’t the thing that really got to him. 

More than anything, it was the look in your eyes when you finally saw him. 

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen and he actually had to stop himself from audibly gulping. You were both amazingly scary, and amazingly beautiful…

A dangerous combination for a man like Quill. 

As soon as he made it to the table, all conversation stopped, with each and every organism there waiting for some sort of development. 

“Um, hi” he started, giving you a small wave that could have only been taken as some sort of odd attempt at bonding with you. It didn’t do too good of a job though, because you said nothing. 

“They call me Starlord, what’s your name?” he tried this time, shrugging off the hesitation and awkwardness. That was one of the best things about him, that nothing could deter him from getting what he wanted. 

Even the way you were looking at him right now. 

“Y/N” you allowed, waiting for him to get to the point. At this moment, you had no idea what he was even doing here, especially considering the fact that most of the inmates here could snap him in half. 

Still, you had to admire his determination. 

“Nice, what are you in for? Murder? Theft?” Peter hummed, taking a guess, assuming that you’d pick from the list if he kept going. 

...But you didn’t even motion to stop him. 

It was much more fun to just watch him try to guess. 

“I’m gonna stop you right there. Can I help you with something? You wondered, hoping to circumvent whatever long, drawn out conversation he was about to involve you in. 

Whatever it was that he wanted, you just wanted to get it out of the way before you had to stab him. You didn’t want to spend another night in solitary. 

“Oh no, I just thought I’d introduce myself. I’ve never met another terrain before-at least, not off of earth” he explained, inevitably starting another tangent that you’d get caught up in. 

It was fair, especially because when you stopped to think about it, you realized that you hadn’t either. Though, this wasn’t some book club where you were all just going to be friends. 

...This was an interstellar prison. 

“Well, I’ll see you around, Starlord” you allowed, standing from where you had been seated to head back to your cell. You’d had enough small talk for now. 

Anyone else would have taken that interaction as a hint that you weren’t in the mood to be bothered, but not Peter. In fact, as you walked away, all he could think about was talking to you again. 

“Making friends there, Quill?” Rocket teased, watching you walk alongside him. 

They all knew that you were going to kill him, it was only a matter of time. 

...Not that Peter seemed to mind. 

~

The opportunity to talk to you didn’t come until much later, in the midst of their escape plan. 

The alarms were blaring all over the prison, and you, like most of the other inmates, had left your cell to see what the commotion was. 

However, before you could gather much information at all about what was going on, Starlord came racing around the corner with a prosthetic leg in hand. 

It made no sense at all, but you knew better than to ask. Knowing what you did about the stranger, it would just buy you way too much information. 

“Oh hey Y/N, what’s up?” he greeted, doing his best to be casual, like he wasn’t in the middle of something absolutely ridiculous. 

Though to be fair, you were pretty sure that only he could. 

“What did you do?” You asked, cocking your hip out to the side, that look on your face that he was already painfully familiar with. You were always so critical, even when you didn’t have to be. 

...Not that he minded. 

“We’re breaking out of here, you wanna come?” he offered, a grin finding its way onto his face as he held his hand out to you. It was a hell of an offer, and you weren’t going to pass it up. 

He may have been an absolute fool and you would certainly regret what you were about to do but you weren’t going to stay here if you didn’t have to. 

Besides, you knew that if you didn’t leave now, you would probably be stuck here for the rest of your life. So, even though you knew it was the worst decision you would probably ever make, you took his hand. 

Racing down the halls alongside him was the biggest rush you’d ever had, and by the time you were safely locked within the pod, you had no regrets about your decision. 

Just in time to realize that it wasn’t just the two of you escaping. 

In fact, there were quite a few bodies in the cramped space. Bodies that you realized you recognized after taking in each of their faces. 

“You all got brought in from Xandar, right?” You clarified, pretty sure this was the entire crew he’d been transferred in with. Were they friends? You had never seen a group of criminals react that way. 

Gangs were common within members of the same species and those from the same planet but not like this. These people were almost acting as if they cared about each other’s well being and it was strange. 

Though, not altogether unwelcome. 

You had never been a part of anything like this and it provided an interesting opportunity. If nothing else, you knew that they could easily be cut loose if you got into a jam and that was always nice to know in companions.

“Yeah, that’s Drax, Gamora, Rocket, and the tree in the corner is Groot” he shrugged, as if that was all the explanation you would need...and really, it was. 

You had come across a number of interesting creatures in your travels and Groot was the more tame of the bunch. The far corners of the galaxy offered some really heinous looking creatures. 

Though, you had to imagine that none among them had ever seen them. 

“Alright, well I guess we’re gonna be spending a little bit of time together-I’m Y/N” you nodded, sitting down at the pilots helm without a shred of hesitation next to Rocket. 

You had sort of just assumed that you would be in control of this situation, but everyone else in the crowded ship simply stared at you, making it clear that wasn’t implied. One thing was for sure…

This was going to be a long ride.

Bonus:

You had been sitting on the ship for a few hours, at this point, in silence, when Peter decided that this was as good a time as any to break the ice. 

“That was kinda crazy, right?” he laughed, sitting down beside you on the floor without a second thought. You wished he would have asked for permission to join you so that you could remain alone a little longer, but he didn’t. 

Peter clearly wasn’t the kind of guy to ever know when he was uninvited. 

“You’ve never broken out of prison before?” you commented, shocked if that was the case. Peter seemed like the kind of man that had been running from the law all his life, but he was also sort of clumsy and goofy. 

It seemed like he would have gotten caught before now, though he shook his head, telling you that he hadn’t. 

Interesting.

“They’re not gonna bother tracking us down, as long as we keep a low profile” you allowed, knowing exactly how it would go. The guards didn’t have to care about where a few lowlifes went as long as you didn’t make it easy to find you again. 

Which meant no petty crime for a little while. 

“How are you though? Doing alright?” he wondered, doing his best to move on to a different topic. Peter was trying to get to know you better and he wasn’t going to do that with some casual prison talk.

He wanted to know about who you were as a person.

...But you weren’t sure how to respond. 

You hadn’t been expecting Peter to ask you something so personal but the most shocking thing about it was that you actually wanted to answer. There was just something about him that you couldn’t ignore, something that made you want to open up to him. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that very few people asked you how you were feeling as a general rule, but Peter just wouldn’t stop. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he reminded you of home. 

He reminded you of a life before you had been whisked away to space. 

“I’m alright, it’s been a while since I’ve been out” you shrugged, figuring there was no harm to letting him in a little bit. After all, he had proved to you that he cared enough to ask you about your feelings, so giving him a little bit wouldn’t kill anybody. 

...It was true that it wasn’t much. 

However, it was a little bit of leeway that Peter could use to get to know you better than he would have been able to before this. After all, he couldn’t just let the only other terrain he’d ever met slip on by without trying to understand you. 

If he did, he would never forgive himself. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t ever have to go back again. Just stick with me” he hummed, grinning at you with that cheesy smile he always wore. The craziest part though, was that when he said it, you believed him. 

[mischievoushearty]

Shouto-kun

summary: It takes Shouto five times to realize why Midoriya calling him by his hero name is special. By the time he first reads his name on that letter, it's too late.

word count: 2548

tags: Tododeku, angst, open ending/no happy ending, one-shot, introspection, Todoroki realizes his feelings

warning: HEAVY SPOILERS UP TO CHAPTER 307/308

also on ao3 and ff.net

---

"Shouto-kun!"

The first time it happens, he's too stunned to say anything back. Shouto pauses, he stares at the teen he considers his first ever friend, now his best friend. Midoriya doesn't seem to realise as he babbles on about the quirk of the villain they just encountered, furiously scribbling into his notebook as he does so. His costume looks dirty, it's torn in multiple places. Not that Shouto’s looks any better. Midoriya looks a bit tired but is in high spirits, the smaller teen genuinely loves going on patrol.

"Shouto-kun?"

It's again the name that startles Shouto and brings back to reality. He lifts his chin. Midoriya looks at him questioningly.

"Shouto-kun, are you coming?"

Of course he calls him that. It's Shouto’s hero name after all, and they’re on patrol during the internship. Shaking his head, the dual quirk wielder catches up to his friend, a grumpy looking Bakugou and deeply focussed Endeavour.

"It's nothing," he quickly shrugs off Midoriya’s frown.

Only that he wished his friend would call him by that name more often, and not just because it's his hero name.

Shouto is confused.

---

"..doroki-kun? Todoroki-kun?"

He frowns at his soba noodles, not hearing his friend's calls.

"Shouto-kun."

It's lower than before, almost as if he's scared speaking the words, and yet Shouto almost jumps at hearing his first name out of Midoriya's mouth. The freckled teen eyes him with worry, a few wrinkles appearing between his brows.

"Todoroki-kun," he begins anew, as if not daring to use the other name once more, and it somehow disappoints Shouto, "are you okay? I mean, I'm sure there's a lot on your mind, we know Endeavour is stable and he'll be able to continue, whatever that means for your family’s future, but you didn't seem entirely comfortable with the others talking about it, which is understandable, of course! But if you don't like it, just tell-"

"Midoriya," he interrupts, "it's fine. It really is." He adds the last part after seeing the wrinkles grow deeper on Midoriya's face. The freckled boy studies him for another few seconds, then finally replaces the frown with a soft expression. A small smile that pierces Shouto’s chest like a knife. He doesn't understand, he doesn't know what it is, but he only dares to clutch his shirt once Midoriya has turned back to his lunch. Shouto stares at his soba, the cold one, his favourite, but he can't eat. All he sees is that warm smile.

---

The third time Midoriya uses his first name he replies, and it's a mistake. He's tired, it's been a long day. He lost - it was a draw, but it still counts as losing to him - the match against class B. His whole team did. They tried everything, but it wasn’t enough. They didn’t have a genius tactician like Yaoyorozu or Midoriya on their team, they had some heavy hitters like Iida and himself, but it still wasn’t enough. Once again Shouto realizes the value of teamwork and a good backup plan. Things they failed to apply correctly today.

"Shouto-kun!" Midoriya calls out to him. Shouto doesn't even see his friend blush and stammering an apology, he doesn't realize it was by accident, he is trapped in his own mind, the match playing on loop in his head. Some moments later his brain seems to catch up and his mouth moves on its own as the name rolls over his lips, "Izuku."

He doesn't realize his mistake at first. Casually withdrawing from his musings Shouto shifts into a better position, his back is starting to hurt, and looks over the backrest of the couch to the other teen.

Midoriya stares at him with wide eyes. There's just a tiny gap between his lips, like he wants to say something, but is too perplexed by whatever just occurred.

Shouto finally notices. His own eyes widen, and he feels his cheeks heat up, it's a miracle he doesn't accidentally set something on fire. "Sorry- I didn't," he starts.

Midoriya blinks a few times, seems to recover, and frantically starts waving his arms in front of his face. The freckles almost disappear in the redness of his blush.

Cute, it strikes Shouto. A word he's never used before, not unless being challenged to do so. He blinks.

"Oh, no, no, it's fine, Todoroki-kun! I called you first! Sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable, I didn't mean to, I just slipped!"

"It doesn't make me feel uncomfortable," Shouto informs him as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world. Midoriya's arms drop.

"Oh, okay. I'm still sorry." He averts his eyes. Shouto can't help but feel like he's done something wrong. After a quick consultation with himself, he decides, "It's fine, I don't mind. Use whatever you're more comfortable with."

Midoriya looks at him with a blank expression that's so unlike himself. Did Shouto overstep? Is there a boundary he isn’t aware of? He's still learning this whole friendship thing, and although he's gotten better, he can't catch up with ten years of experience in just a few months.

Whatever his friend wanted to say back, he doesn't get to say it. Uraraka appears and drags him away laughing, Iida closely on her heels. The class president waves his arms around, but Shouto pays no mind to his words. He turns around to stare at the muted TV, not really caring about whatever cartoon is playing. His mind is preoccupied with other things.

He doesn't see Ashido throw intrigued glances at him from the other couch.

---

The fourth time he doesn't know whether it's an accident, whether Midoriya intended to use his hero name or not. It's an unlucky incident during another heroes versus villains exercise. He and Midoriya are up against Aoyama and Yaoyorozu - he doesn't know how Aoyama will play into this, but the raven-haired girl is a force to be reckoned with. It won't be an easy win, but they do stand a good chance. Midoriya came up with no less than two backup plans, aware Yaoyorozu knows him well enough to prepare counter measurements. They head out, separate, first up is a deceptive manoeuvre. Everything goes according to plan, then the other team counters, it's time for plan B. Shouto takes a deep breath, uses his fire to distract while secretly sending ice across the floor.

Then he hears the yelp. He yanks his head to the left, just in time to see Midoriya to fall off a broken pipe. His teammate tries to latch onto something with the black ribbon-tentacle-tendril-thing he calls black whip, but it's one badly timed attack from Aoyama that reflects off a shiny surface and blinds the falling boy. Shouto hears an unhealthy cracking sound as Midoriya hits another pipe before crashing down.

Shouto blasts himself there in an instant, somehow he makes it in time to catch his friend before he hits the concrete. They still crash, but Shouto protectively holds the other boy in his arms.

Midoriya's head is bleeding. It must hurt judging by the way the green haired teen can barely keep his eyes open. They look a bit dull and unfocussed, it takes a moment for him to even realize it's Shouto who's holding him.

"Sho-Shouto-kun…"

The heterochromatic teen ignores the way his heart misses a beat. He turns around to look at the drone broadcasting the fight, a silent question lingering in his expression.

Aizawa stops the match (Shouto ignores the thought that All Might wouldn't have). It's nothing unusual for students to get injured, the boy in his arms has broken enough bones to prove that, but head injuries have to be taken seriously. Midoriya's fall looked especially terrible.

"Beautiful…"

At first, he thinks it's his imagination. Shouto looks back down at his injured friend who bestows him with a gaze he's never seen from the boy before. His eyes are almost closed and yet they seem full of wonder and… Admiration?

.

Shouto stares at his own reflection. The flaming red, distorted scar tissue covers a big part of his face. Sometimes he wonders why he can still see, or why he still has an eyebrow. (The thought that it's probably a frost burn and not from the hot water itself is too painful to accept, even after all these years.)

It's unsightly.

Beautiful

Shouto frowns. There is nothing beautiful in that. He doesn't understand why Ashido keeps calling him a snack or where the heart covered letters he sometimes finds in his locker come from. It's hideous. He must have misheard. There is no way Midoriya called him beautiful.

.

His mother laughs. It's still small and she hides it beneath her hand, but it's music to his ears. So foreign, so new, so nice. She takes his hand and squeezes it, reassures him that he is quite handsome, and she doesn't say that because she's his mother - who believes those words coming out of one's own mother's mouth - and that his scar doesn't change anything about that. If anything, it makes him more special.

Then she tells him to ask Midoriya if he truly meant it, since it's bothering Shouto that much.

His face flushes. Shouto didn't say anything about Midoriya.

---

The fifth and last time, it's during the war. Shigaraki is a monster, and they can't do anything against him, Gigantomachia is breaking free, Dabi - Touya - appears-

The blasts of the blows send Shouto flying like a dry leaf in the wind. His eyes can't keep up. Midoriya is… Midoriya is…

He doesn't seem human anymore. That strength is like nothing Shouto has ever seen before, and he has no doubt that one day his friend will genuinely surpass All Might…

But it's also scary. Terrifying, really. Midoriya keeps breaking his own body, again and again, more and more, he doesn't hear Shouto’s screams. Bakugou gets stabbed, Shouto barely catches his leg while blasting himself around with half his body, his father is already dangling from his other hand, then Midoriya falls and he can't catch him, but he flies in anyway, at least breaking his fall so the damage won't be too bad.

He applies first aid. But Midoriya is so broken, he doesn't know how to fix it. Bakugou is bleeding out. His father isn't moving, and the fight is far from over.

His memory gets blurry. He's suddenly fighting Touya, the brother he believed to be dead for most of his life. Touya is a villain now. He has killed people, and is proud of admitting so, he openly declares that he wants to kill Shouto just to hurt their father-

That's when Midoriya called him by his name again. No honorifics.

"SHOUTO!" His voice breaks, and yet Midoriya continues trying to defend Shouto and Endeavour. He wants to get back up and join the fight no matter how many times Shouto silently pleads him to stay down, he can't see him get any more hurt...

---

Shouto doesn't visit Midoriya. He can't bring himself to. It's something he will later regret more than he can put into words.

First of all, his family is in shambles, even after his mom arrives and they talk, he knows nothing is going to be like before.

Secondly, he feels useless. He couldn't do anything against Shigaraki. He saw his friends get torn apart, receiving life threatening injuries, while he himself only suffered a few burns and will be unable to talk for a while. He couldn't even do anything against Touya - Dabi - whoever the villain is now.

And he swears to himself that he won't be that useless in the future. He will do better, he has to. He has to be the one to stop Dabi. His father is too broken to do so. He can’t look Midoriya in the eyes until his voice is back and he can tell that directly to his best friend.

When suddenly everyone in class receives a personal letter from Midoriya, explaining his situation, Shouto thinks it's just a bad dream. A nightmare. There is no way his friend is stupid enough to leave on his own, even - especially - now that All for One is after him, personally, Midoriya had to know that he can't win on his own…

Shouto stares at the crumpled letter in his fingers. He has read it so many times he's scared it could fall apart the next time he touches it, but he can't keep himself from doing so.

Dear Shouto-kun

Midoriya is gone.

No, he's not gone gone, he's still alive, somewhere out there. Just a few days ago Shouto watched his best friend, the person closest to him, wipe the floor with Muscular as if the high-grade villain was some petty mugger on live TV. All the way back in summer camp, when the days were still warm and his heart was full, Midoriya once again broke every bone in his arms to keep that same villain from hurting a little boy. Two days ago he two-shotted this big villain with the same ease he'd pull out weed.

Shouto lets go of a shaky sigh. He ignores the burning of his eyes.

Please be okay, he thinks, he begs, he prays and he doesn't believe in any gods. Not since his father started beating his mother. But for Midoriya, he will pray.

… it's a power that was passed on to me by All Might…

Shouto doesn't care where it's from. Because Midoriya's power is his own, just like Shouto's fire isn't his father's. And that power, those quirks, it's not what makes Midoriya strong, what makes him a hero. No, Midoriya's strength lies in his character. His selflessness. His caring and soft nature, his kindness, the fierceness he protects those who can't fend for themselves. His bright smile that makes Shouto's heart flutter, his big eyes he can't help but get lost in, his rough hands that help him up whenever Shouto finds himself on the ground.

Shouto finally knows what he saw in Midoriya's eyes that day. It's the same look he's been giving the other teen for a while. The same fond expression he keeps hidden from his classmates whenever he watches the freckled teen do something amazing again.

It's not admiration, it's adoration.

Shouto's skin heats up and a tiny flame flickers on the back of his left hand.

Maybe he should have told him that. Maybe he should have told Midoriya how much he meant to Shouto, how his presence alone made the taller teen's heart speed up, how his mumbling brought a smile to Shouto's lips. Maybe he should have told Midoriya that he wasn't alone, that he didn't care where he got his quirk from, that even if he didn't have one, he would still be the most important person in Shouto's life.

But now it's too late. And deep inside, Shouto knows it won't change anything. Midoriya would have left anyway. He may have left even earlier knowing how much Shouto would give up to help him, how Shouto would sacrifice anything for the other boy.

But it's too late to say that now.

A single, hot tear drops onto his lap.

Shouto hasn't cried since he was five years old.

---

A/N: Thank you so much for reeding! This may get a second part once we're further into the arc, maybe even from Izuku's POV.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Drive-In”: A Domesticated Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 2,542

Genre: Married AU; Prequel

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N isn’t the greatest when it comes to relationships which is why she intends to make her first year with Chan something to remember.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

I was startled by the sudden presence of the shop worker, glancing away from the cake display with full alertness. “I was just looking.”

“Are you celebrating?” she asked. “We can do customization work.”

“Really? It’s for an anniversary.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she cooed, clapping her hands together like she was the one who had hitched herself to a medical student. 

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. In reality, I wasn’t used to this kind of thing considering the fact that my relationships usually never lasted more than a few months. “We’ve been together for a year.”

“Well, that’s a long time,” the worker informed me. “No wonder you’re trying to make it special.”

“That’s the plan,” I joked, even if I was feeling completely out of my comfort zone. Special occasions were often reserved for Chan because he was the romantic one in our relationship. He was the one who was counting, making a big deal out of every little milestone: “Happy two months, Y/N!” or “It’s been six months now, Y/N.” 

I did my best to reciprocate his enthusiasm, going along with whatever plans he happened to be making. For our two month anniversary, I gave him a blow job in the restroom of the movie theatre. And after we got home from dinner to celebrate six months, Chan and I had sex for the very first time in his apartment, throwing Jisung out because Chan’s roommate was incredibly nosy and I was half-way convinced that he got off to the sounds of our fucking. 

“The cakes are baked fresh every day!” the shop worker continued, doing her best to convince me to spend 20 dollars on a fine mixture of sugar, flour, and icing. 

“Give me your biggest one.”

“Sweetie, you didn’t have to,” Chan insisted after I offered him the expensive pastry.

“Happy anniversary or whatever,” I said in return, resisting the urge to show him the receipt from the cake shop because I was half-convinced that they had overcharged me. 

Chan pulled me in closer by my hips, hands enveloping my waist as he kissed me softly. “I have something special for you tonight.”

“A fancy bottle of wine and my face in the mattress?”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded me gently. “We’re going out.”

I was still unconvinced, reaching down to palm his cock over the jeans he was wearing. “Are you sure, Channie? I’ll even ride you if you want.”

“We have plans,” Chan insisted while reaching for my wandering hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Is Jisung here with his latest plaything or something?” I snickered. “You’re awfully persistent.”

“Because I have a surprise,” Chan said, pointing in the direction of his bedroom. “You better hurry, sweetie, we’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Well, then you better appreciate a half-assed attempt to look nice,” I told him. “I’m talking Aerospostale instead of Armani.”

“You’ll probably look sexy regardless.”

“Channie, you always know how to stroke my ego.”

Chan must have gotten dating advice from his parents. That’s the only suitable explanation for the nearly vacant drive-in movie Chan was currently paying an entire week’s worth of tips for two tickets. “Chan,” I said, glancing around nervously. “Is this the part where you tell me that you’re a serial killer?”

Chan pulled up to the front of the lot, parking next to one of the rusty speakers twisted into the ground. “Isn’t it great?”

“I guess,” I said, craning my neck to take in the giant screen. “This is revenge for Minho’s frat party, right?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Chan said. “You want anything from the concession stand? My treat, of course, sweetie.”

“You go knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll just stay here with my phone in case I need to urgently dial the emergency number. How fast do you think the police can get here?”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Chan said, wrenching open the door to his faded Mustang. “I’ll be right back.”

I shivered, crossing my arms as I slowly counted the number of cars surrounding us: a grand total of four. There were only four other cars here in a run-down gravel lot in the middle of the woods. This was something out of a horror film, a new nightmare directed by Wes Craven. At any moment, I totally expected Jason Vorhees to run out of those trees waving around his machete and, no matter how big Chan had gotten over the summer, I doubted he could take down an immortal monster. “Keep it together, Y/N,” I murmured. “This isn’t the dumbest thing he’s ever done.”

I was pretty sure nothing could ever top our impromptu beach trip for spring break when Chan somehow booked us a room in the basement of someone’s beach house. Concrete floors and walls, exposed pipes and insulation, Chan and I shared a tiny twin bed with eyes wide open as we listened to the scariest noises emanating from the giant furnace. Needless to say, Chan found us another room at the Motel 6, ditching the creepy couple who told us that they couldn’t give a refund.

“Popcorn!” 

I nearly screamed at the sound of Chan’s returning voice, rolling my eyes when he shoved the box at me from across the console. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you so worried about, Y/N?” Chan asked as he shut the door. “The movie starts soon.”

“Great,” I said. “Would it be entirely rude to ask what the hell you paid for us to see?”

Chan shrugged while taking a giant bite of his pretzel. “It’s an older movie, but I hear it’s one of their most popular.”

“Well, if it gives me a couple of strokes, then your ass can drive us to the hospital.”

“It’s not scary,” Chan argued, leaning his seat back to accommodate his view. “I think you’ll like it if you give it a chance.”

“But the very first time I see a fucking ghost or something...”

“There aren’t any ghosts,” Chan said. “Unless we’re talking about the movie with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.”

“You cry like a little bitch every time.”

“They deserved to be together!”

“Shhh,” I silenced him quietly, moving up in my seat. “Your fifties flick is about to play! Maybe I’ll get lucky and see a nice ass or something.”

“How crude,” Chan remarked, grumpily wiping his greasy hands against his jeans.

“It’s starting!” I cheered, propping my elbow against the console. “Are you excited?”

Chan glared at me as the credits rolled across the screen. “See if I do anything nice for you again, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to appreciate this gesture of love,” I said, pointing at the two characters on screen. “Do you think they’ve ever been to a drive-in movie?”

“Are you gonna talk the entire time?”

“You don’t like my commentary?”

“Unless it’s the director's cut, then no.”

“Channie,” I feigned hurt. “You’ve broken my delicate sensibilities. Wherever will I regain my confidence?”

“You have plenty of that, Y/N,” Chan said.

I looked away from the movie screen, admiring the sharp profile of his jawline. “Have you ever noticed how remarkably gorgeous you are these days?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s a shame because I was hoping to get inside your pants.”

“Watch the movie!”

I grew silent, moving back to my side of the car while sneaking my phone from my side pocket, scrolling through my messages with the screen brightness on low. There were several messages from Minho which I temporarily ignored in favor of the unexpected appearance of Han Jisung’s name. He only ever reached out to me when he was either in desperate need of help or because he heard an inappropriate joke and thought I should know about it as well.

From Jisung

Where does Chan keep his condoms?

I rolled my eyes, deleting the message before tapping on Minho’s contact name.

From Minho

Was Chan’s surprise everything you hoped and dreamed for?

To Minho

He took me to a drive-in theatre

From Minho

If I see your name in the obituary, I’ll let the police see this message.

To Minho

You’re becoming less supportive with each passing day

From Minho

That’s because you just interrupted my hook-up! She fled the moment she saw your name.

To Minho

Then she wasn’t good enough for you. I probably just saved you from months of clingy girlfriend syndrome.

I waited for Minho’s response before an exaggerated moan from on-screen abruptly captured my attention. I looked back at the screen, mouth dropping open as I realized the two main protagonists had progressed considerably in their relationship. “Channie, you didn’t tell me there was porn in this,” I gasped, smirking at the sight of my flustered boyfriend. “Aw, your ears are red.”

“Shut it,” Chan growled. 

“Was this not what you expected?” I asked him, reaching out to trace the outer shell of his ear.

“They did say it had an R rating,” Chan admitted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

I drew my hand away from his ear, running my fingers down his arm and waist until I found the front of his jeans. “We could have watched porn at home.”

“W-what are you doing?” Chan asked, eyes frantic as they surveyed our surroundings.

“Nobody’s watching,” I said as I tightened my hand around his cock, enjoying his accompanying moan. “Have you ever had sex in the car before?”

“In my Mustang?” Chan gasped, eyes now shut tightly together as he tossed his head back against the headrest. “These are leather seats.”

“And?”

“I don’t want semen on my leather seats,” Chan complained.

“Relax, Channie,” I reassured him, working my way across the console to sit directly on his lap. “I’ll let you cum inside so it stays in me instead.”

Chan’s mouth fell open at my promise. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Well, good thing I do,” I smirked, reaching into my pocket. “I’m on birth control anyway.”

“Since when?”

“I can’t tell you that,” I said, waving the silver packet in his face. “You’ll get all jealous.”

Chan frowned, eyes narrowed. “Changbin?”

I nodded once. “I thought it was better to play it safe.”

“How fortunate for him,” Chan glowered. 

“I told you not to assume anything,” I said, reaching down to unbutton his jeans. “Now you’re all worked up.”

“Yeah? Talking about your ex-boyfriend does that to me,” Chan said, hissing between clenched teeth when I held his cock in my hand. 

“You don’t see me drooling over his dick, do you?” I asked him, stroking once, twice before ripping open the condom. “Do me a favor, Chan, and be a good boy while I fuck you.”

“What about the movie?” Chan asked breathlessly, watching through half-lidded eyes as I worked the condom down his erection. 

“You mean the porno?” I snickered. “I’ll give you a live sex show instead, how does that sound?”

Chan answer came in the form of a heavy groan as I took him deep inside, shoving my panties to the side to accommodate our coupling. I twisted my skirt up higher around my hips to make sure it was out of the way, allowing us both an intimate view of where his cock disappeared. “Shit, Y/N,” Chan panted. “Are you a voyeur now?”

“Like those couples aren’t doing the same thing,” I said, grabbing tightly to his shoulders for balance. “Now, just relax while your girlfriend makes you feel good, hmmm?”

“Okay,” Chan managed breathlessly while his hands shot out to grab my waist. “Make it fast though.”

“Like anyone will stop us,” I said, sighing happily as I pressed a gentle kiss to his pulse point, tongue tasting the skin of his throat. “But, if you’re interested in testing me, I could probably make you cum in five minutes. Remember the first time you let me touch your cock?”

Chan winced at my words, probably recalling to mind the unfortunate way he had been unable to hold himself together, cumming from just a simple handjob on his bed. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

“Don’t worry, you last a lot longer now,” I said, grinning triumphantly when his moans started to grow louder, circling my hips to grind against his pulsing cock. “I think I’ve thoroughly corrupted you.”

“Yeah?” Chan sighed, leaning forward to kiss me with bated breath, hands now groping the front of my chest while his tongue smoothed against mine. 

I pulled away to relieve my aching lungs, allowing Chan open access to my neck while my head was tilted back against the steering wheel. “You wanted it just as much as I did,” I commented, tangling my hands in his messy curls to hold him in place. My thighs were now straining from my movements, the burn aching pleasantly like the time Chan had tried to teach me how to swim in the campus pool, keeping one hand under my stomach while he encouraged me to kick out my legs.

“You were going to get fucked one way or another,” Chan said, letting out a deep rumble as he occasionally rutted up when my hips would fall against his, skin bruising with every seductive sound. 

“But at least I got your cock instead of my fingers,” I said, rolling my hips faster as I started to chase my own orgasm. “You wouldn’t believe the difference.”

“I might,” he said. “It works both ways.”

I fought every urge to just stop my movements and let Chan fuck me however he wanted, reaching for one of his hands to guide his long fingers down between us. “Please, Channie,” I whined loudly, an unfortunate result of my increasing desperation with every deep fill of his cock against my tight walls.

His thumb pressed down on my throbbing organ, kisses growing messier as we both started to chase our highs, teetering precariously on the precipice between pleasure and rationality because fucking in the car was certainly not high on my list of most responsible moments. “Are you close?” he asked. “Because I might die if I don’t cum soon.”

“Don’t die,” I whispered, scratching my nails down his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “Just a little longer.”

Chan grunted, forehead slipping against mine now that we were both covered with sweat. I opened my eyes just enough to realize that we had successfully fogged up all the windows like that giant innuendo of a scene in Titanic. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan groaned, kissing me again with too many teeth.

“Chan,” I swallowed around a moan, legs trembling with a cloying mixture of exertion and the anticipation of a satisfying orgasm. Chan wasn’t far behind, grabbing my thighs with clenched fingers as he jerked his hips up to fill the condom with a thunderous groan.

I held onto him, his face buried against my chest as we both struggled to regain our breath. “I’ll fuck you better when we get back,” Chan promised, and I had never heard anything sexier in my entire life.

“Happy anniversary.”

“I love you, Y/N,” Chan murmured against my skin.

“Yeah? Well, I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Brooklyn 99 AU? If you haven’t seen that, just think like an Office or Parks and Rec-esque work sitcom

“Make Terry do it,” Santiago whispered.  “He’s good at babysitting.”

“Make Terry do what?”  Jeffords looked up from his yogurt, expression concerned.

The informal conference in the precinct break room exchanged a glance.

“We may have arrested a few underage tourists from out of town,” Peralta said.  “They may or may not have been drunk, but, uh...”

Peralta glanced at Boyle.  “But we left them unsupervised in the back of the police van for, like, two minutes,” Boyle explained quickly.  “So by the time we got the breathalyzer working, they were all sober.”

“They all puked?” Scully asked, appalled.

Santiago shook her head sadly.  “They all morphed.”

“Wait.  You mean...”  Jeffords craned his neck to look out across the main room.  He caught a glimpse of the group of kids currently sitting in the Nine-Nine’s holding cell, and his expression went slack in horror.  “No.  No.  No, Terry has not had nearly enough low-fat peach-mango yogurt to deal with this today.”

“They’re famous!”  Peralta made jazz hands at the rest of the squad.  “That’s kind of cool, right?  That Marco kid’s a movie star, Tobias definitely counts as a cryptid, and... the others... do stuff...”

“Yeah.”  Santiago crossed her arms.  “They kill people.”

“There was a war on!” Peralta protested.  “Aliens invaded, Boyle’s mom got possessed by a scary slug thing and tried to kill me —”

“She said she was sorry for mistaking the Sharing for a ferret-themed lomage fanclub,” Boyle said.

“Yeah, no, anyone could make that mistake.”  Peralta pivoted back to Santiago.  “The point is, they killed people as part of a war.  And that, like, doesn’t count or something.”

“What’d they do?” Jeffords asked.

"It was only a few murders,” Boyle said.

“Today!”  Jeffords gestured to the front room, where the delinquents in question were clearly sitting in their holding cell.  “Why’d we arrest them?”

Santiago pulled out her phone, calling up the relevant statement.  “They’re claiming they were provoked when, quote, ‘Some guy wolf-whistled Cassie, and then that guy’s biker gang objected to Rachel’s attempts to rip his arms off and feed them to him, and really it was their fault all along.’”  She looked up.  “Signed Jake Berenson.  Which begs the question: did we get ID from any of them?”

“They all morphed,” Boyle pointed out.  “Who else could it possibly be?”

“So that explains the entire cell’s worth of muscular guys with mild-to-moderate grizzly bear wounds downstairs,” Scully said, staring upward in wonder.

“That’s it, we’re all babysitting them,” Jeffords declared.  “And by that, I mean that we’re getting them out of our hair as fast as we legally can, whether or not we charge them with anything in the process.”

“Agreed,” Santiago said, shoving open the door to the main room.

The scene in the holding cell was... not pandemonium.  Jake and Cassie were sitting on the bench at the back of the cell, Cassie’s head leaning on Jake’s shoulder.  Rachel leaned against the bars, picking at her nails.  Tobias sat on the crossbar next to her, preening.  All in all, the kids seemed to be cooperating, which was a mercy.  It wasn’t like the Nine-Nine had the budget for even one-tenth of the equipment necessary to actually contain an Animorph, after all.

Still, it was probably for the best that some wise soul had moved all the other prisoners downstairs.

“...and you can conceal up to 15 knives in the interior pockets alone,” Diaz was telling Marco.  He watched with rapt fascination, leaning over her desk, as she unfolded a butterfly knife one-handed and then swung it closed again.

“Rosa, did you let him out of the cell?” Santiago asked, exasperated.

“Nope.”  Diaz shrugged.  “Must’ve broken out on his own.”

“He didn’t break anything,” Jake called from inside the cell.  “Marco has not damaged or defaced any government property, nor have any of the rest of us.”

“And yet somehow, there are not one but two delinquents meandering unrestrained around my precinct.”  Holt had emerged from his office, and was now looking slowly from Marco to Ax.

“Yeeeaaah, he’s not technically under arrest.”  Peralta jerked his chin at Ax.  “Seeing as he’s not from Earth, we probably can’t arrest him?  And even if we can, it definitely wouldn’t be worth the headache of trying to charge him with anything in intergalactic courts.”

“If you’re not under arrest, you may leave,” Holt told Ax sternly.

Ax straightened up from where he had been eating... something... off the floor of the microwave.  “I am not going anywhere without my friends!”

“That’s so beautiful.”  Boyle swooned against the door frame.  “It’s like you share a six-way love whose unmatched intensity pours out of you...”

“Not in front of the kids, Charles,” Peralta said.

“What?  I was just—”

“If you’re allowed to leave, could you at least go get us some hot dogs or something?” Rachel asked Ax, ignoring the cops.

“Nah, hot dogs are a Chicago thing,” Jake pointed out.  “Go for knishes, or pizza, or... what else is in New York?”

“Those little paper packets of honey-roasted peanuts,” Cassie suggested.

Everyone glanced over when there was a loud thud from across the room, and then back to the conversation when they realized it was just Marco trying, and failing, to get one of Diaz’s knives to stick in the surface of her desk.

«Tacos.»  Tobias looked unerringly at Scully.  «There has to be a taco truck around here somewhere, right?»

“Don’t you worry.”  Scully pulled his partner to his feet, gasping at the effort of unsticking Hitchcock from his comfortable chair.  “Me and Hitchcock’ll show him all the best food trucks in Brooklyn.”

“How many — any — are there?” Ax asked eagerly.

“Two hundred seven, if you don’t count pushcarts or ice cream vendors,” Hitchcock said immediately.

“We shall return with a bounty as great as three sets of human arms can bear,” Ax promised Rachel.

She flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Hot wings!” Cassie called.  “That’s a New York thing, right?  Hot wings?”

“Have we got a sauce for you,” Scully promised, a hand on Ax’s shoulder.

Jeffords ran to intercept them at the door.  “You can’t just wander in and out of the precinct with suspects, Scully!”

«If you don’t like Ax coming and going, you could always just arrest him,» Tobias said acidly.

There was a long silence.  During this silence, Ax slipped out the door with Hitchcock and Scully behind him.

“Kids these days and their attitudes,” Jeffords complained, spinning around too late to intercept Ax and then turning back to give Tobias his sternest stare.  “I should speak to your parents or guardians, young man.”

Tobias laughed.  «Joke’s on you, since I don’t have any parents or guardians.»

“What?”  Jeffords ran forward to press himself against the bars, appalled.  “Do you want to come home with me?  Cagney and Lacey keep telling me they want an older brother, and Sharon makes excellent chicken cacciatore — you don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

“He’s ours and you can’t have him,” Rachel snapped, standing up to get in Jeffords’s face.  She didn’t seem to care much that she had to tilt her head back at a 45-degree angle to make eye contact, and somehow succeeded in conveying that she was looking down at him.

“Duuuuuuude!” Marco exclaimed loudly from across the room.  “You really mean it?”

“Sure.”  Diaz rested a hand on the hatchet that lay across her desk.  “I teach people how to throw ‘em all the time.”

“Marco!”  Rachel turned away to whack on the bars.  “Quit fraternizing with the enemy.”

Peralta gasped loudly.  “We’re the enemy?” he asked in delight.  “Are we your nemeses?  Does this mean that we’re as scary as the Yeerk Empire?”

“Why?”  Jake stood up, making eye contact through the bars.  “Do you want to be?  Are you saying that you’re controllers?”  He took a step forward, not breaking his stare.  “Or was that just an expression of sympathy for their cause?”

“Uh.”  Peralta laughed nervously.  He’d taken several steps back in the last few seconds.  “You know what, never mind.  We’re cool, right?  Alllllll cool.  Super cool.  The coolest.”

“That’s easy to say for someone currently holding us against our will.”  Jake still sounded unamused.  “We have complied fully with your demands up until now, and will continue to do so unless you give us a reason not to.”

“Are you threatening my detective?” Holt asked, very mildly.

“Are you charging me with additional crimes?”  Jake’s voice wasn’t mild at all.

“Have I mentioned that I’m a big fan of you guys’s work?” Peralta asked, making a grand gesture to include all of the Animorphs.  “Because I’m thinking maybe that didn’t come through.  Huge fan.  Love the way you squash those yeerks.  It’s a delight having you here.”

“Of course we’ll go along with whatever you think is best, Officers.”  Jake sat back down.  He had yet to look away from Peralta.

“Amy I think I changed my mind about having kids,” Perlata said all in one breath, smiling and nodding as he continued to back away from the cell.

“No, chicks dig hatchets,” Diaz was explaining to Marco.  “Guys tend to get all weird about it if you start flinging weaponry around.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”  He was still hanging on her every word.

“The trick with guys is to pull out a little bit of that feelings shit.”  Seeing the expression on his face, she shook her head.  “You don’t have to go full-hog and reveal your real name on the first date or anything.”

Marco laughed.  “Oh good.  Because I am not looking for that kind of commitment.  I usually don’t want any commitment to anyone, ever.”

“Good policy.”  Diaz clapped him on the arm.  “Nah, with dudes it only takes a little bit of sappy stuff.  I’m talking a moderate-tier confession, like...”  She considered for a second.  “I keep one of my knives hidden in my boot, and it doesn’t set off metal detectors when I gotta work government buildings.”

“Uh-huh.”  Marco bent over the sheet of paper on his lap, scribbling frantically.

“Are you taking notes?” Rachel called, disgusted.

“More importantly, is he taking notes on the back of his own arrest form?”  Santiago rushed across the room to rescue the rest of the paperwork from Marco’s defacing.

“Nah, it’s cool.”  Diaz held up the back side of Marco’s paper.  “It’s just the arrest sheet where Peralta made four attempts to spell ‘Aximili’ before declaring that we probably couldn’t arrest an alien anyway.”

“Those two events were entirely unrelated!” Peralta said loudly.

“Of course, we all believe you.”  Santiago leaned over to pat him on the arm.

“If they can’t arrest Ax, can they arrest you?” Cassie asked Tobias.

He shrugged, or at least it looked like that’s what he did.  «They still haven’t processed me, so I suspect not.»

“We are going to process you,” Boyle said, “just as soon as we figure out how to scan your fingerprints.”

«But I’m not under arrest yet, am I?»

“Aren’t you guys legally required to release him, then?”  Cassie turned back to the room at large.

“We can hang on to all of you for twenty-four hours,” Santiago called back.

“The question is,” Peralta muttered, “do we want to?”

“I’m gonna keep this one around to bring me iced coffees and gas up my motorcycle.”  Diaz was watching Marco polish one of her axes.  “For a kid, he’s pretty dope.”

Marco gasped, a hand over his heart.  “You don’t mean it!”

She held up a finger.  “Too sappy.”

“I have a hatchet?”  He held it up in offering.

“Better.”

“Speaking of our legal rights,” Rachel said, “can I call my mom?  She’s a lawyer, after all.”

“Yeah, well my mom’s a teacher,” Peralta said immediately.  “And you don’t hear me bragging about it.”

“That’s not the point.”  Santiago sighed loudly.

“The point is,” Holt interjected, “she asked for a lawyer, and we need to provide her with one.”

«Can your mom be my lawyer too?» Tobias asked.

Rachel shrugged.  “Sure.  I think.  Jake already took his phone call, and Cassie wasted hers on checking in at the hospital—”

“I just wanted to be sure that we didn’t permanently injure that man,” Cassie said mildly.  “Only showed him the error of his ways.”

“You did that, all right,” Diaz said.  “I like your style, for what it’s worth.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I like your style,” Marco breathed, staring up at Diaz.  “Teach me everything.”

“You want to be a cop?” Cassie asked him.

“What?  No!”  Marco turned quickly to Diaz.  “No offense, it’s nothing personal, they don’t mean it, but also...”

“Nah, it’s cool.  You’re a smart kid,” Diaz said.  “Cops are losers.”

“Excuse you,” Santiago said, “Could a loser win both the ‘Most Organized Seminar’ and ‘Highly Relevant Community Announcements’ awards from the same commissioner in one year?”  She gestured pointedly to a matching set of plaques on her desk.  “Checkmate.”

“I have brought a bounty of wings!” Ax declared.  At least, it was presumably Ax speaking from behind the teetering stack of take-out boxes that went clear over his head and somehow didn’t include the four additional plastic bags of Chinese food hanging off his arms.

«Ax-Man, you are a god among insects,» Tobias said.

“Not on top of the binders!”  Santiago lunged to shield them with a drawer before Ax’s tower of food boxes could topple onto the front desk.

“Can I have some?” Peralta asked wistfully, watching as Ax slotted an entire pizza box through the bars to where Jake and Cassie could pry it open.

“Here Jakey, we got you a tub of Wing Slut sauce.”  Scully set it reverently on Peralta’s desk.

“Really, you shouldn’t have.”  Peralta scooted his chair back several inches, eyeing the tub with suspicion.

As the better part of the Nine-Nine watched in horrified fascination, Tobias tossed his head back and swallowed a Buffalo wing whole.  After a second he made a hacking sound and spit up the bone, now completely cleaned of all meat.

“You eat wings?” Boyle asked, leaning in to peer through the bars.  “Is that cannibalism?”

“It’s an open question,” Cassie said.  She folded a paper plate taco-style to protect the lo mein inside, sliding it out to Ax.  “Can you make sure Marco eats something with lots of carbs before he goes hatchet throwing?”

Ax took the plate, saluting her with his free hand.  “The sauce is most excellent, sell-lent, when consumed through a straw,” he told Peralta in a conspiratorial whisper as he went by.

Peralta pushed to his feet.  “Yep, I am never having kids, and I am never eating food ever again.”

“Human bodies do not continue living if you do not consume sufficient nutrients.”  Ax pointedly set the lo mein in front of Marco.

“Ha!” Peralta said.  “That’s what everyone said about drinking water, and yet!”

Marco grabbed a handful of noodles straight off the plate and dropped them in his mouth.  “The bagels might be better here, but you can’t beat California’s Chinese takeout,” he concluded after chewing for several seconds.  “Sorry,” he added, glancing up at Diaz.

“If you suck up any harder, you’re going to injure something,” Rachel snarked.

“Why, are you jealous?”  Marco batted his eyelashes at her.

“No, she just remembers that we’re all under arrest right now,” Jake said loudly.  “And that we’re under no obligation to say or do anything without a lawyer.”

“Which is why I’m here.  To ensure you do not talk yourself into any more trouble than you already have.”

Everyone turned to look at the newcomer.

“Hi Aunt Naomi,” Jake said, voice small.

Rachel rounded on him.  “You used your phone call to contact my mom?”

Jake held up both hands.  “I didn’t say anything about the alcohol!”

“Alleged alcohol,” Naomi said loudly.  “Which these minors have not admitted to purchasing or consuming, because they have not made any statement admissible in a court of law, because you have been holding them all here illegally without an advocate.”

“Ma’am, I think you’ll find that we made every effort to secure advocacy and legal representation for these children with all due haste.”  Holt moved smoothly across the room to shake her hand, and then ushered her into a chair.  “Detective Peralta deemed it necessary to hold them here for their own safety until such time as we could obtain statements from everyone involved.”

“Has anyone pressed charges yet?”  Naomi sat in the folding chair like a queen on a throne, and glared at Holt until he — with a wincing glance at the dust on the seat — sat across from her.

“No, ma’am.  The only person likely to do so is still at the hospital,” Holt explained.

“Oh yeah, he said he wasn’t going to,” Cassie called over.

“What,” Peralta said, laughing.  “You just called him on the phone and talked him out of it?  Just like that?”

Cassie shrugged.  “I asked nicely.”

“It’s Cassie,” Marco told Diaz in a stage-whisper.  “She does stuff like that.”

“Hardcore.”  Diaz looked Cassie over.

“But I’m still more hardcore than her, right?”

“Too desperate.”

“I have four knives?”

“Better.  Only four?”

“Where else am I gonna put them?  I can’t morph and wear a leather coat at the same time.”

“Point.”

“If they’re not being charged with anything,” Naomi said overtop all of this, “and they’ve already given their statements, then you need to release them from custody.”

“I’m not comfortable doing that if we’re not releasing them into the hands of a parent or legal guardian,” Holt said.  “I’m given to understand from their earlier statements that Jake is your nephew and Rachel is your daughter?”

Naomi nodded.

“Then I can only release those two to you.”  Holt seemed genuinely regretful that this was the case.  Then again, it was Holt, so it was hard to tell for sure.

«Look, if Jake can go with his aunt, I can go with my uncle, right?» Tobias said.

“Yes, that would be acceptable,” Holt said.

“Thank you, human captain.”  Ax gave a small bow to Holt.  “I accept this responsibility.”

“Wait, wait.”  Santiago looked Ax over.  “No, we’re not going to just... How old are you, anyway?”

“I am eight-six years old,” Ax announced.

“Eighty-six,” she repeated.

Ax stared back at her, implacable.

Holt sighed.  “Obviously, he is referencing the fact that andalite years are approximately point-two-four-one-zero-nine times the length of human years.  However, since the law does not specify whose years one must count in order to determine whether an individual is over the age of eighteen, I believe I take his point.”

“Does this mean I’m eighty-six too?” Marco asked quickly.

“Were you born on Earth?”  Santiago raised her eyebrows at him.

“Uh.”  He glanced at Diaz.  “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

Diaz gave him a subtle fist-bump.

“My son is not an adult, nor does he mean to indicate that he wishes to be charged as an adult,” Naomi said quickly.

“‘Son’?” Marco squeaked.

“‘Son’?” Holt asked, frowning.

“Yes?”  Peralta stuck his head up, took stock of the scene, and quickly sat back down.

“Son.”  Naomi stared straight at Holt.  “In fact, I will be taking all four of my children, both adoptive and biological, when I leave here today.”

“You adopted me?” Marco demanded.  “Do I get a say in this?”

“Do you have proof to back up your assertion that you are these children’s mother?”  Holt hadn’t broken Naomi’s stare either.

“The way I see it, you have two choices.”  Naomi reached into her purse, pulling out one of her own business cards and setting it on the desk between them.  “Either you allow us to walk out of here, in which case I promise you’ll never see any of us again... Or you continue to hold these minors without formal charges and without counsel, in which case I promise to pursue legal action against whatever stray bricks of this precinct are left standing after my daughter and her friends exercise their legal right to exit the building with as much force as they deem necessary.  Which option would you prefer?”

“See?” Jake whispered loudly to Rachel.  “I knew I made the right call by calling your mom.”

“I take your point,” Holt said, after a moment of consideration.  “Very well, you and your children may leave.  Do keep them out of trouble in the future, won’t you?”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Holt.”  Naomi shook his hand.

Boyle was quickly fumbling for the lock on the cell door.  “Can I have your autograph?” he asked Rachel as she went by.

Rachel looked him up and down, and then kept going without a word.

“Here, I’ll do it.”  Cassie took the paper and sharpie from him.

“Can you make it out to ‘Nikolaj’?” Boyle asked, eyes wide.

“Maybe.”  She uncapped the pen.  “Can you spell that?”

“N-I-K-O-L-A-J, oh and can you add something about always listening to his dreams, and also the music of Diana Ross?”

Slowly, Cassie looked up at Boyle.  She capped the pen — she’d settled for “to Nikolaj, from Cassie” — and handed everything back to him.

“Marco, dude, we’re going,” Jake said.  He currently had both arms around Marco’s waist and was pulling him backward from Diaz’s desk.

“But... but...”  Marco looked up at Diaz.  “Call me?”  Immediately he shook his head and said, “too desperate?”

She smirked.  “Nah, you’re cool.”

He let out a lovelorn sigh and went limp, which was all the excuse Jake needed to haul him over one shoulder and head out of the building.  Cassie and Ax followed, Tobias fluttering up to land on Rachel’s shoulder as she headed out too.  Naomi brought up the rear, casting a pointed look around the room as she went.

“Man,” Jeffords sighed, “I should’ve gotten an autograph for my kids too.”  And then he rounded on Peralta, midway through sneaking the Wing Sluts sauce tub into the trash can.  “What did we learn today, Peralta?”

He considered.  “Lawyers suck?”

“No!” Jeffords said.  “Well, they do, but... Santiago?”

She looked up from where she’d been making an incident report to this exact effect.  “Next time we’re thinking about arresting a whole batch of superpowered child soldiers on questionable misdemeanor charges... don’t?”

Holt nodded gravely.  “Well said, Santiago.”

[storyofmychoices]

Plan B: Once a thief...

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage Series]

Characters: Mal Volari, Daenarya (F!MC, human), Rayden (OC), Lydo (OC), Vayne (OC); Threep, Loola

Warnings: brief allusion to child endangerment; some violence (adult/adult)

Setting: Mal tried to rescue Lydo through negotiation; Vayne, the leader of the Thieves Guild said no. This is Plan B.

This follows Welcome Home

(This is the fifth part of Rayden & Lydo’s story.)

Synopsis: After failing to rescue Lydo, Mal regroups and comes up with a new plan. With the help of Daenarya, Threep, and Loola, can he succeed?

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆   

“Wait!” Threep scoffed, holding his paw over his chest, feigning offense. “You invited me as… a distraction… As if I were bait?”

Mal pretended to consider it a moment longer, his fingers stroking his beard. “Yup! You’re really only here because we need your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Threep puffed out his chest. “And, I’ll have you know I—”

Mal cut him off. “Your girlfriend has ice magic, Daenarya has light magic, and I’m a legendary outlaw and hero who knows that complex better than anyone else. Remind me again what you do beside deliver mail.” He chuckled to himself, “drink milk?”

“Why you!” Threep hissed, the fur on his back standing up, his claws extending, ready to pounce. 

“KITTY!” Rayden popped in the room, rushing toward the nesper. 

Threep tried to move away from the child, but Rayden scooped him up, pulling him closer. “Hey, watch it!”

The light glistened off of Rayden’s widened eyes as his mouth fell open. “You can talk?”

“Of course! I’m a nesper, an ancient being of noble ancestry that should be worshiped and—oh, that feels quite nice. Oh!” 

Rayden scratched between Threep’s ears as the nesper’s eyes closed stretching into the child’s warm embrace. “Cute magic kitty!”

“I am quite adorable!” Threep nestled further against Rayden enjoying his pets, blocking out the Rogue’s deep guffaw.

“Can we keep him?” The boy turned to Daenarya hugging Threep snuggly. 

She knelt beside him. “He’s not a pet, sweetheart. He is a special creature who deserves to be free.”

Rayden’s lip quivered slightly as he looked down at his new friend. “But I love him.” 

“I know.” She caressed his cheek. “I’m sure Threep will come to visit some times, won’t you?”

The nesper purred contentedly, “It would be my honor.” 

“Oh, great! You mean we have to see more of the mangy cat?” Mal scoffed. 

Daenarya shot him a look, before turning her attention back to the child. “Rayden, we need Threep to go rescue your brother. So, I’m going to need you to put him down.”

“Aww,” the boy and the nesper whined almost simultaneously. 

“Oh, Threep. Have a little respect for yourself,” Loola rubbed her paw over her eyes. 

“Let him stay,” Mal shrugged. “We can do without him. Besides, babysitting sounds far more his speed.”

“Threep, what do you want to do?” Daenarya questioned.

“I’ll go where I’m appreciated. Since that is not with you lot, I’ll stay with the boy!” Threep shifted under Rayden’s touch. “A little to the left. Right there. Ahhh.”  

“Be careful! And, don’t let him leave the house,” Daenarya instructed.

“I think we will manage just fine,” Threep purred, looking up to Rayden. “Got any cream cakes?”

“Loads!” Rayden nodded, carrying his new favorite friend off to the kitchen.

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆   

The dim light they carried flickered against the rough, stone walls of the underground tunnel. The path turned and curled deeper into darkness, the cold of the earth prickling at their skin. Daenarya shuddered, her heart beating faster with each step they took. It wasn’t as though this was their first adventure, but they had been so focused on fixing up the orphanage, that adventuring sort of fell away. Her stomach tightened, hoping this plan would be enough, she couldn’t bear the thought of going home without Lydo, Rayden would never understand. He had already set aside some of his things for his brother. A smile crept across her face, hidden by the shadows. She hadn’t known Rayden long, but she loved him dearly. 

“Okay, this is it.” Mal held up his hand.

Loola fluttered softly landing on his shoulder. 

“Remember the plan. You find Lydo and bring him back here. Loola and I will buy you as much time as we can. You got this, Kit,” he reassured her, before turning out their only source of light. “Meet back here in 10 minutes!”

“Mal?” Daenarya questioned, stopping him for a moment. Despite the darkness, her lips found his softly, her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. “Please, be careful.”

“Always,” he brushed a kiss on her forehead before turning away. The old latch on the door creaked and clanked, the noise echoing through the abandoned tunnel behind them. “Good luck!” 

The door opened into a small room, stuffed with what could only be described as junk. They had to shove it, pushing away a pile of broken furniture, to even make enough space for them to slip in.

As they reached the next door, Mal motioned Daenarya to the left, as he and Loola turned right. 

Daenarya took calculated steps, careful as she turned corners, staying close to the wall in the unfamiliar space. She had memorized the directions Mal had given her, now she just had to hope the kids still stayed in the same room they did ten years ago.

“Vayne! I know you’re here.” Mal called, as he made his way through the building. He opened any door he passed by giving him multiple escape routes for his retreat, or at least, letting them think he could be in any one of them. It would buy him a little time. There was actually only one room he needed to make a quick detour to.

His voice grew louder and more urgent. “VAYNE! Come out and fight, old man.”

Loola fluttered safely above the Rogue, near the high ceilings, keeping watch and ready for his signal.  

The heavy footsteps of guards from all over the compound headed in their direction, exactly where he wanted them. 

“Come and get me.” Mal challenged, his fingers already flirting with the hilt of his daggers, ready for whatever awaited him. 

Daenarya drew in a sharp breath ducking into an alcove as a guard rushed by. She counted to three, steadying herself. She was starting to wish she hadn’t agreed to let Threep stay behind. She wasn’t used to not having back up. 

Swiftly, she swept through the long corridor peering in each open room, to make sure it was safe before proceeding. She found the place she was looking for near the end. 

The large room revealed more than a dozen children sitting or lying around the room on scattered piles of dingy blankets and pillows. All of the children darkened with dirt, faces worn and tired, desperately needing more than they were getting. They quickly averted their gaze from the stranger, moving closer together for safety.

“Lydo. Lydo?”

A boy with the same shaggy dark hair as his brother caught her attention. From Rayden’s description, she expected the boy to be closer to twelve or thirteen, this child was less than ten, possibly only a year or two older than his brother. She knelt beside him. “Are you Lydo?”

He quivered, shifting away from her. “Yes.”

She held out her hand to him. “I’m here to get you out of here.” 

“I can’t,” he cried, his eyes welling up in fear. “They have my brother. They said if I left, they’d kill him.”

“Rayden? He’s safe. Come with me and I’ll take you to him.”

“They said you’d say that. They said they’d kill him,” he whimpered. “He’s all I have. I won’t let them hurt him.” 

Daenarya could easily grab the child and carry him out, but that would risk causing a scene. Her fingers tapped nervously at her side as she thought of a way to convince Lydo of the truth. “When it rains and there’s thunder, you sing a song to make it less scary for Rayden.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.” Daenarya held out her hand again. “I promise, if you come with me right now, I will take you to him.”

“Is he okay?” His face lightened, as he breathed fully probably for the first time since being taken all those weeks ago.

“Yeah.” She took his hand. “He just misses his brother.” 

“What about the rest of them?” Lydo questioned, his gaze shifting to the other children, who still turned away from them, knowing the punishment for trying to escape. 

A tear fell from her eye, knowing that the hard choice was the right choice. For now, they were safer there. It wasn’t a good life, but Mal had always said it was better than living and dying alone on the streets. “We’ll come back for them. I promise. We don’t have enough time or resources right now.”

She took his hand and guided him through the compound heading back to their meeting spot.

“Now then.” Mal quirked an eye and twirled his daggers, eyes trained on the two guards closest to him. 

With a flick of his wrist, the smaller one sailed through the air behind him, landing with a thwack in the guard’s leg, causing him to fall on the spot. He lashed out quickly in front of him, the larger dagger clutched tightly in his fist, pierced the guard’s side between his armor; Mal immediately kicked his weapon away. As more guards headed his way, he let a few further blades shoot through the air, each one easily finding its target.

“LISTEN TO ME!” He whistled loudly to get their attention. “You and I are no different. I was where you are once. I served Vayne every day as you do. And what do you get for it? Huh? Nothing. He promises you a better life, but he takes everything you have. Look around. Is this what you want? I am proof that you can leave this place. There is a world out there waiting for you. Why serve a self-appointed king. Take a stand today, and be a pawn no longer. What do you say?”

The men looked at each other, their weapons holding steady toward him, but none advancing.

A slow clap echoed behind the guards as Vayne moved closer. “Nice try, Volari, these men will not accept your lies. Unlike you, they have loyalties. Now, I believe I made you a promise?”

“A promise to return the gold you took the other day?” He countered, reaching behind him to grab a bag of coins from his belt. “Because, I already helped myself to your treasury. You really think you’d change the location after the last time.” 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” The old man sneered. “Kill him.” 

“Wait! Just one moment.” Mal held up his finger. “It looks like this bag of gold does not belong to me. I guess you’ll be wanting it back. He threw the bag into the air above the guards’ heads, gold coins showering around them. Each thinking the same thing. “NOW!”

As the guards clamored around the fallen coins, Loola’s eyes brightened, flashing white as the floor beneath the guards turned to ice.

“He’s getting away!” Vanye yelled. “After him.” 

As Mal and Loola made their escape, they heard the cacophony of armor clashing against armor as the men slipped and fell over the ice. Loola left a few other patches of ice along the way, just in case any guards happened to make it off her skating rink. 

“I can’t believe you got rid of the gold,” Loola marveled.

“As if I only took one bag,” Mal smirked. 

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆   

Lydo barely got in the door before Rayden ran, jumping into his brother’s arms, almost knocking the frail boy over. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Rayden cried. His little arms wrapped tightly around his brother, refusing to let him go. “I was so scared.” 

Lydo held his brother equally as close, his eyes swelling with tears. “I’m sorry, Rayden. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Rayden sniffled into his brother’s shirt. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Lydo breathed, burying his head in his brother’s hair. “I love you, Rayden. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, too, Lydo!” Rayden smiled, happier than they had ever seen him.

Mal wrapped his arm around Daenarya as she held back tears of her own. She knew better than most the love of having a brother, and what being separated from them feels like. Luckily for both of them, they were reunited with their brothers.

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆  

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[catradoramma]

Do you think Catra’s tail is sensitive? If so, what would she do if Adora were touch it?

5 Times Catra’s Tail Was Touched +1 Time it Wasn’t

(rated M)

Catra’s tail is sensitive. Here are 5 times someone touched Catra’s tail and one time no one did.

A/N: I’m so sorry anon. This shit gets sad, and it may have some triggering content. See bottom A/N for details.

| ao3 | twitter | kofi |

1.

The first time Adora touched Catra’s tail, they were barely 4 years old. They were laying in Adora’s bed because Adora’s bed always felt safer and warmer. It was after curfew and they really should have been sleeping but sometimes it was hard and Adora was really good at keeping Catra company. Catra can’t remember much about what lead up to it, or why Adora touched her tail in the first place. Maybe Adora was just rubbing Catra’s back or maybe she got curious, but as soon as the other girl’s fingers touched her tail, it felt like every single muscle in her body had instantly relaxed.

It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling. And it wasn’t entirely unwelcome…but it was weird. Catra has been trying to sleep and she was having trouble relaxing. So in that way, she thought it was really nice. And a secret part of her liked that only Adora knew about Catra’s secret relax button.

“You okay, Catra?” Adora whispered over Catra’s shoulder. She sounded mildly alarmed which makes sense in retrospect. Catra had essentially gone limp under Adora’s hands unexpectedly, Adora deserved a little panic.

It took Catra a few moments, but eventually she managed a soft hum before she started purring.

Coincidentally, this was also the first time Catra purred.

And it was for Adora.

Just. Maybe something to think about.

—

2.

After that, the tail touching became a pretty regular thing for the best friends. Whenever Catra was having a particularly hard time sleeping, or she was too worked up about something, Adora would rub her back, then carefully massage the base of Catra’s tail and things would be better. Things would feel a million times better. Catra would start purring and the gentle noise would sooth both of them to sleep.

It was a win-win situation.

And it always felt a little like salvation whenever Adora pressed it. When Catra was half dead from a particularly gruelling training session with Shadow Weaver, and her body felt more like an over-stretched rubber band than anything. When Catra was boiling over with anger, her hair standing on end and her claws as sharp as razor blades. When Catra felt small, and too big, and too clumsy. When Catra wasn’t enough, and too much, and thrown away. A single touch from Adora was all it took to calm her down, to bring her back, to put her back together.

Adora always knew exactly when Catra needed her touch. Wordlessly, Adora always knew. It was just something she was good at.

Or maybe Catra broadcasted her emotions.

Either way, it was such an amazing feeling, being known like that. It felt good to be known and to know that whatever Adora found out, she wouldn’t abuse.

She wouldn’t tell.

It would just be theirs. A healing power that Adora possessed.

—

3.

It wasn’t until they were maybe 13 that Catra realized that the tail-touches didn’t feel the same anymore. They were still nice, but they weren’t…relaxing anymore. They were almost…electrifying.

Now don’t get Catra wrong, the touches still made her go completely boneless—melting her like ice in lava. But recently, instead of putting her to sleep, the innocent touches brought her for life. They made her yearn for something Catra had never really considered before. Something Catra wasn’t really able to recognize.

It left her warm and tingling in ways she’d never felt before, and while learning about this new facet about herself—a facet that could only be unlocked by Adora—was exhilarating, it was also terrifying. It felt a little like she wasn’t even in control of her body anymore.

It was scary and thrilling and Catra had no idea what to do about it.

—

4.

It happened completely by accident. Catra will swear up and down until the day she dies that it was an accident. It had to be an accident. There’s no other way to explain it.

They were running from Shadow Weaver, hand-in-hand and giggling breathlessly at some random prank Catra had pulled. Her heart was racing at the excitement of running, of being with Adora, of getting away.

Catra pulled her into a supply closet, the door shutting seamlessly behind them as Shadow Weaver dashes past. Adora was leaning against Catra’s back, as Catra caught her breath against the cool metal of the door. Adora let out a breathy chuckle that sent a shiver down Catra’s spine, all the way down to the top of her tail.

Her tail twitched, aching to wrap around Adora’s leg and pull her closer. That exciting feeling Catra got around Adora had been named, and the longer it stuck around, the firmer it seemed to set itself into her chest. And after a few too many less than completely innocent drama Catra had about Adora, Catra was convinced it wasn’t going away.

Adora turned her head a little and her warm breath tickled the fur just behind Catra’s ear. Catra felt a low purr build in her chest. She turned around so her back way against the door.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off!” Adora breathed, her voice a little high picked and excited.

“Come on,” Catra scoffed, equally breathless and excited. “Of course we pulled that off. We used my plan.”

Adora let out her own breathless scoff and rolled her head as he rolled her eyes. Catra was extremely charmed by the action, even if it was at her own expense.

Catra bravely settled her hands on Adora’s hips.

“You are pretty amazing,” Adora said sarcastically greatly pained, and the words caught Catra somewhere deep in her chest. “I—I mean—“ Adora’s cheeks turned an adorable pink as her grey eyes widened. “I liked your plan. I mean—I also think you’re amazing, but I just m—“

Catra cut her off with a kiss, unable to take it anymore; the way her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered around Adora. How every gesture lit a fire under her skin.

Adora was unresponsive at first, and Catra’s heart was practically beating out of her chest until the longest two seconds passed and Adora surged forward. Their teeth clacked together a little bit, but after a little bit of quick figuring, they managed to line their lips up.

Catra smoothed her hands up Adora’s sides, pulling her closer as she nibbles on Adora’s bottom lip. She let out a perfect and adorable little moan, the sound causing Catra to growl and shift them around, pinning Adora against the wall instead.

Catra moved her hands up Adora’s front, desperate to feel up those perfect abs before swooping around to pull her closer by the small of her back. Adora gasped at that, her hands flying down to Catra’s hips. Catra purred lowly at that, surging forward to deepen the kiss as Adora’s hands moved around to Catra’s ass.

Catra was so occupied with feeling up Adora’s equally as perfect back muscles that she hadn’t even realized Adora’s hands had twitched around to the base of Catra’s tail. The second Adora’s fingers touched the base, Catra shivered. The second Adora started massaging the area, Catra completely melted against Adora’s front. Catra didn’t know what kind of noise she let out, but she did know what the hot jolt of pleasure that travelled up and down her spine all the way to her toes felt like. It felt so fucking good, Catra thought her brain melted right along with the rest of herself.

This is probably when Catra should have realized.

This is also when Adora should have realized.

This is exactly what made her later betrayal so much worse.

—

5.

Catra knee what she was doing was wrong. She knew what she was doing was cruel and abusive.

She knew.

And yes, she felt bad about it. Of course she did.

But she felt so dark and twisted inside. Her heart like a broken and blackened thing rotting in her chest, taking any shred of sympathy, any sort of empathy, and sort of anything.

Catra knee what she was doing was wrong.

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from crowding Scorpia up against a wall. To pull her in by her jaw, and kiss the daylights out of her. She couldn’t stop herself from pulling away, looking Scorpia in the eyes as Catra mumbled hotly in her ear, “We gonna do this or what?”

She could see it on Scorpia’s face. Could see it in her eyes. The hope. The hope and the fear.

And Catra ignored it.

“Y-yeah,” Scorpia breathed, her elated disbelief evident in her voice. God, she was so heartbreakingly into Catra and her voice just then was almost enough for her to pull away. But she stood firm and surged back into kissing Scorpia.

Catra doesn’t remember most of what happened—did that on purpose so she wouldn’t have to feel too guilty about it. So Catra’s not 100% sure how it happened, but Scorpia’s large, beautiful, fantastic claws rubbed against the base of Catra’s tail and Catra’s whole body seized up.

A horribly confusing mix of pleasure and despair rushed through her. She trembled with the force of it, tears springing to her eyes as she arched against Scorpia’s face.

The grief hiding in Catra’s chest overcame her. Catra dropped down to her elbows and sobbed. She let it out, her heart breaking for Scorpia, and herself, and Adora.

Catra vowed to never love again.

—

+ 1.

They were much older when they met civilly enough to speak for longer than two seconds. The years and the war a wide crevasse between them.

“It’s good to see you,” Adora hedged, her voice still lighting up an old, long dormant part of Catra.

Catra cleared her throat, nodded, and would have lashed her tail if it had still been there. It was a loss Catra was still adjusting to.

“I heard you retired your sword,” Catra said, unable to look at Adora, opting instead to gaze out at the crowd of other Princesses gathered in the lower ballroom at New Bright Moon.

Catra saw Adora nod out of the corner of her eyes. “Eternia is safe now. We’re stable and it doesn’t feel right to use the power anymore,” Adora shrugged and Catra’s heart ached. Adora was just so good.

“I hope the next She-Ra feels the same,” Catra said, mature enough to admit at least some of her feelings, but mostly jaded enough to know no one was quite like Adora.

“I have to believe they will be,” Adora says firmly. “Or else what was the point of all this?”

Catra couldn’t stand the way Adora’s voice cracked so she reached over and placed her hand over top of Adora’s. “We’ll finally get to rest,” Catra said, finally looking at Adora. “And at least for a while, so will they,” Catra added, looking back over the ballroom.

Adora let out a little sigh. “I guess you’re right.” She turned her hand in Catra’s and linked their fingers properly.

Catra looked over at Adora, and caught the small smile she was sending her way. Catra’s heart pounded for the first time in a long time, and her body relaxed in a way she hadn’t been able to relax since she’d lost her tail.

It felt like a first step.

And a little like a confession.

Like the feelings weren’t just from her tail.

A/N: possible triggering content: Catra uses Scorpia to fill the void in her heart left by Adora’s betrayal. She also takes advantage of Scorpia’s feelings :(

[unholyhelbig]

Jasie, ok ah Jade comforts Josie after the dark Josie mayhem

Read on Ao3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts! *** 

Title: Second Chances 

Ship: Josie Saltzman/ Jade 

***[A/N: Someone asked me what kind of prompts I’m looking for, and fair warning, my main two ships are Lizzie/Hope, Josie/Jade. But I’m not opposed to anything! I am terrible at writing heterosexual ships though] 

Josie Saltzman fell through the ice when she was six years old. It had been a warmer winter day and the sun was shining against freshly fallen snow- white and blank like a sheet of clean paper. She remembers the way her breath puffed in front of her, and how she was wrapped in more than one layer of clothing to quell off the stormy winds.

She had just gotten a new pair of ice skates for Christmas and the small pond behind their house had hardened over before melting, then reforming with the dastardly cold. With permission from her parents- of course, Josie dared to test out the surface.

The edges were fine, white and misty and thick enough so she couldn’t see the muddy bottom for the fish that were brave enough to swim just below the surface. But beyond that, right in the middle- it hadn’t been strong enough.

Josie remembers the loud crack of the ice and the way that the cold water seeped into her socks. Beyond that, it was nothing but numbness. Her skin prickled as if all blood had crystallized in her veins and she could taste the mud and gunk and maybe even her own fear.

Lizzie was screaming too, trying her best to run through the snowbanks and up the back porch of the house. And Josie looked up, not quite sure if her arms were moving or if they had hardened to clear ice and broken off entirely, floating to the bottom of the pond.

The sky, she remembers, was clear and cloudless and the most impossible shade of blue. So deep that Josie would be content with staring up at it forever- becoming something of nature, something that wouldn’t’ thaw out until summer when the frogs burrowed out of the banks and the crickets began their seasonal song.

No one would let that happen, and within moments her father had pulled her from the small broken hole in the ice and into his arms. He was warm, and his heart was pounding. Josie couldn’t’ tell if he was angry, and if he was, he didn’t show it. Instead, he hurried her inside and got her out of her wet clothes before Lizzie siphoned enough magic to do a basic warming spell.

Gaining feeling back in her extremities hurt more than losing it in the first place.

Josie felt that same frostbite now; not quite numb but not fully there either. She gazed up at her ceiling, and though it wasn’t quite like the sky on a crisp winter day, it was enough. She had stared at the wooden rafters and the freshly painted white that covered an off eggshell that her mother decided wasn’t “vibing” well.

She slowly lifted her hand, staring at her fingers as she flexed them. Josie Saltzman felt weak for the first time in the past month and considered it a great sensation. Storing the entirety of her magic in a small little piggy bank was as good as a distance as she could conjure.

Isolation was the best place for her right now. As her sore body came down from the high of being used by the multitude of black magic; from the exhaustion of finally fighting it off. Lizzie knew to leave her alone- and Josie knew that it was easier for the blonde to curl up inside of a hidden bookcase with the one person who was there for her when the world was collapsing.

There was a small knock at the door and Josie fought off a groan, she weakly said. “Go away, Dad.”

She turned so she wasn’t on her back anymore, instead facing the wall and a set of windows that lead to a balcony. She held her breath as the door clicked open and then shut again. Josie clenched her eyes shut and didn’t bother moving as the opposite corner of her bed dipped down.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I figured you might not want to be alone right now.”

Josie tensed at the voice and the suddenly overwhelming scent of vanilla and blood. She remembers it- from the prison world, and even more from the old mill in the woods. Something she couldn’t decipher entirely, because she wasn’t positive if it was a dream or not. Her lips had tingled like it was anything but, and her fingers ached to reach out.

Jade had stilled her breath, she moved to stand up. “Or I totally misread the situation and that’s exactly what you want.”  

“No, stay.”

Josie’s voice was so slight that only someone with advanced hearing could decode it. Luckily Jade heard her loud and clear and lowered herself back to the bed. There was a bit of an awkward silence that filled the air before she spoke.

“I can remember all of it,” Josie said, swallowing the dry taste in her mouth. “You’d think with something so dark and… and evil taking you over like that that you’d be forgotten altogether. Pushed into some deep part of your own mind. But I could see all of it, feel all of it.”

She turned onto her back again and stared directly at the ceiling. Jade had her eyes trained on the young witch, fingers twitching against the duvet like she wanted to reach out and comfort her but she never did.

“You know the scary part is,” Josie frowned, not quite sure how to explain it. “The power was intoxicating and all-consuming, and part of me thought… part of me knew that I enjoyed it.”

Jade carefully lowered herself down to the mattress and stared up at the same spot that Josie was, possibly searching for what could be so interesting. The bubbles in the paint or the little faces in the wood. Josie felt her own nerves simmer down.

“Sometimes it feels good to do bad things,” Jade whispered, playing with the little cross necklace that hung against her shirt. “That doesn’t’ make you a bad person.”

“I killed someone. Snapped a neck like it was nothing and-“ Josie stopped herself, snapping her jaw shut. Because Jade had too and the pain had been enough for her to shut away her emotions entirely, the prison world had primed her into a cold-blooded hunter, and Josie felt all of that too- as soon as she entered the vampire’s mind to flip the lights back on.

Jade laughed and her smile was brighter than anything else in the room. She turned on her side, breath comforting and hot against Josie’s cheek. “Oh it’s alright, Jo- you can say it. I’m not going to be offended.”

Josie had a ghost of a smile on her own lips, and she adjusted her position until they were both facing the middle of the bed, knees barely touching as they stared into each other’s broken gazes.

“We’re both really screwed up, huh?”

“We’re the worst,” Jade's eyes crinkled when she beamed.

Josie chuckled for the first time in a while before the room settled again and left them in more comfortable silence. She closed her eyes for a long moment “Do you ever think we’ll feel like people again?”

“One day, I think everyone starts to feel a little more human. A little less like the thoughts in the back of your head could resurface and-“Jade reached forward easily and tucked a piece of hair behind Josie’s ear, moving her touch against the girl's cheek with gentle precision. “until then, we can be screwed up together.”

Josie sighed into the touch, entirely too warm for someone who technically didn’t even have a heartbeat to settle. Almost like her gesture was enough to thaw her out of the ice, just a little bit. She leaned forward, letting Jade pull her into a tight embrace. Something Josie didn’t want to let go of anytime soon.

Her nose pressed against the inside of Jade’s neck, and then she breathed deep on whatever perfume she was wearing. She felt thick comfort around her and wicked her fingers around the fabric of Jade’s shirt.

“Thank you,” Jade whispered.

“For what?”

“For giving both of us another chance."