#if i had been able to get that victim plushie i would be throwing it against the wall. daily. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system. Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

#thomas #the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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ultyso · 3 years ago

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(Censoring words solely because I’m not sure the word itself can be used on tumblr.)

T/W Mentions of p*dos

T/W Mentions of gr**ming

Tldr: As a CSA Survivor, voicing concerns of things I have heard people talk about on these topics in online spaces that does more damage than good to victims, survivors, and minors. I am only one voice, so please listen to all csa survivors, victims, and minors about this topic.

I don’t speak for everyone who is a CSA Survivor. We all have different experiences and feelings, some things may be less triggering or concerning for some more than others. Other CSA Survivors feel free to talk about your own feelings, experiences, and things you wished others knew as well since every CSA Survivor’s voice should be heard, not just my own.

These are my thoughts and some of the grievances I’ve had, the invalidation of my trauma, the things that have triggered back the trauma I thought I was able to heal so long ago, and I’m tired of it.

P*dophilia is not a term where you can just throw it around at anyone and everything. Be mindful where and how you use it. Do not let the severity of this word go down. It is not a joke. It is not some fun trendy buzzword. It is not a topic just for fictional media. It is a serious issue that harms so many children in the world.

Do not invalidate the trauma of victims by focusing on just fictional characters. Reporting fictional content as CP is not as helpful as you think. Investigators are on the look out to help save real children. Putting thousands of fanart/fanfics of fictional characters at the top of their feed lets p*dos hide easier and thus causes real children to still be trapped in their situation. If the fanart/fanfics is of real minors though, action should be taken.

You need to be a protector for real children. Learn the warning signs. Learn the prevention. Learn how to act if a real child has been harmed so you can help them. If you just treat it as a joke and use the word willy nilly on things that it does not actually pertain to it is immensely performative, makes it harder for investigators to find true perpetrators, and thus only hurts more kids than helps.

Clothing ≠ p*dophilia

Jfashion such as lolita and fairy kei is not p*dophilic or p*do-baiting. I don’t know why this has become the trend to call it that.

When you say this it sounds like victim blaming. “Well it’s what they wore.” Which is terrible. If you think wearing “childish” clothing is inherently sexual YOU are very much the problem.

Clothing is not what grabs p*dos attention. Clothing doesn’t do anything. It is a self expression for the wearer and that is it. For p*dos, it is the child themself they’re grossly invested in, not the clothes.

If you look at the origin of jfashion styles such as lolita, one part of the meaning is the resistance of sexualizing a person’s body. It also has nothing to do with the book so, stop equating them as the same.

Watching kid tv shows or movies, playing kid friendly video games, owning plushies or other kid toys ≠ p*dophilia

If you see an adult who is into movies/shows, toys, games made for kids chances are it could possibly be a CSA Survivor and this is their coping mechanism as a way to heal. To reclaim what was taken from them. Giving back to that inner child that never got the chance to live it. Even if they are not a CSA survivor, it could be an adult finally getting that doll they’ve wanted since they were little but could never get. Giving back to their inner child in that way. For me personally, KH is part of this for me. It has been my coping mechanism/safe haven since I was little. It is something I know I can always go back to that doesn’t bring harm to me. It’s an escapism from trauma and anxiety.

Height differences ≠ p*dophilia

An adult who is shorter than their significant other who is also an adult is not p*dophilia. A short adult is not “minor-coded.” They are just a short adult. A taller adult liking a shorter adult does NOT mean they like children. Joke or not this is inappropriate. Some adults just are not able to grow taller then others, so it feels like you are infantilizing a whole group of adult short people just because of their height. Not only that, but for survivors this can make them second guess their appropriate and safe relationships they have even more, which for some CSA Survivors it is already so hard to trust to begin with, this then can make them further associate even more things and people with their trauma that never needed to be and can cause further ptsd reactions.

A minor dating a minor one month/year younger/year older than them ≠ p*dophilia

This undermines the severity of what p*dophilia is. P*dophilia is an adult person who sexually fantasizes about, exhibits inappropriate and sexual behavior towards, has urges towards, and/or arousal towards minors. They are a sex offender/m*lestor as well if they act on those urges on a child. Thus becoming CSA.

This part is ONLY talking about minor + minor relationship: As cited from DSM-5 (wiki that has excerpt) “A person must be at least 16 years and at least 5 years older than the prepubescent child, for the attraction to be diagnosed as p*dophilia.” A 15 year old dating a 16 year old is not p*dophilia. If a 15 year old did inappropriate and non-consensual things to another minor the same age as, slightly younger than themself, or older than themself, that 15 year old would be more towards being called a juvenile/adolescent sex offender. Don’t use these terms willy nilly either, they are severe words too. Do not use them lightly for fun internet jargon.

In regards to fandom spaces. Just because someone on the internet labels themselves as something specific, does not mean this person can’t be a p*dophile based off of whatever the label is. You must always be careful with whom you interact with. They very well could be under the guise of feigning innocence and pointing fingers away from themself. Some may pretend to be one or the other and self-proclaim themself as the “good” adult. And HEAVILY emphasize this all the time. Which for me often raises a warning flag. Especially if they are in heavy contact with minors on a daily basis. Be always careful with anyone you interact with online no matter what they label themself as. You do not know who is behind the screen, so exercise extreme caution with the information you give to anyone, even if an account labels themselves as the same age as you. It could be someone pretending to be the same. Having a father who is a p*dophile, I can say, these gross people want to blend in. They’re going to feign innocence. They want to be in your line of trust. They may say things like “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not that group of people” or “don’t trust them, trust me.” Be aware of the signs of gr**ming. This is a first tell tale sign that someone could be harmful. Some examples of warnings signs an be found here.

LGBTQIA+ ≠ p*dophilia

While there may be people who happen to be LGBTQIA+ that are a p*do, that does NOT mean everyone who is LGBTQIA+ is one. The community makes it explicitly clear that MAPS/p*dophiles are NEVER welcome in the community. It is harmful to associate them with the community too.

P*dophiles can be anywhere. In my my own experience, mine was my own father. They are in the most obvious spot and invisible to other’s eyes. They will if not often, be someone who has gained yours and other’s trust and preys heavily off of it. Such as a family member, a teacher, a doctor, a family friend, etc… They hide under this guise because what is the first thing anyone says? “Oh it couldn’t possibly be them. I know them. They’re good.”

I get wanting to know all the facts before putting a label such as p*dophile on someone. I get that some people do fake saying they were abused. I get it. When there’s a huge amount of evidence of someone being nefarious with children though, you can’t keep hiding from that truth and you need to stop supporting that person. Continuing to support those perpetrators just tells other scummy P*dos that as long as they’re well-liked enough, they too can get away with it. This only harms more children then helps.

Please put “T/W”s if you mention p*dophilia. CSA Survivors have different triggers and seeing the topic brought up willy nilly in spaces without it can be very harmful and may cause ptsd. Please be respectful to us all. Do not make a joke out of all of our suffering.

I’ve made a linktree of information on warnings signs, what to do, hotlines for victims, and more. Take action to protect real kids not just the fictional ones. That is all I ask: https://linktr.ee/CSA_Prevention_and_Help

#csa survivor #csa vent #trigger warning #p*do mention #tw p*dophilia mention #tw gr**ming mention

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forthechubbies · 4 years ago

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Mrs. Jeon Vol 3

Synopsis• One nightstand gone Marriage!? The past catches up with Yn when her head over heels husband finds his lost bride and will keep her by any means necessary.

Category's•Violent Thoughts, Hostel Behavior, Nsfw (Later), and Bratty Jungkook.

Duos• Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Vol 1, 2, 3, 4,

What’s going on down there? It sounds restlessly calm. You could hear muffled voices but nothing more; you aren't too keen on testing your luck and sneak into the corridor to eavesdrop on their conversation. Pretty sure the door is locked anyway.

Instead, You took note of the confined walls surrounding you. A typical master bedroom accessorized an earthy decor, cute mini-plants placed in various room areas, two tiny pet turtles in a tank constructed into a giant wooden bookshelf.

Speaking of books, talk about books galore. The shelved books had little to no wiggle room aside from the one empty slot belonging to the open novel on the nightstand. The owner won’t mind you partaking in one quick gander-

“Ah!” You gasp, fixing your eyes on your newly treated ankle. For a minute, you just about forgot this crazy abducted situation your in. The bedsprings dip as you flop back into the spot where Jimin left you. Jimin was the man you fell on during your first attempt at freedom; he was even generous enough to bandage with utmost care.

A kind gesture a particular bunny wasn’t too thrilled on seeing, Jungkook's face soured while watching Jimin’s filthy little womanizing hands caressing the delicate soft plushy skin of his carrot’s legs.

Son of a bitch trying to cop a feel on his wife, Jimin’s flirtatious persona, led him out to be a well-known heartthrob but often seen as a gigolo through certain people's point of view and, frankly, Jungkook's wife won't be a victim of the Jimin Effect.

Crash!

The smash of a glass object-making contact with the hard marble kitchen floor snatched Jimin’s and your attention giving it to the irritable bunny who’s psychotically enthusiastic about testing his progress in strength by snapping his hyung’s neck-

Oh, no, his carrot looks frightened-He shouldn't do such a brutal act of love with his wife nearby; her poor innocent heart might shatter. No violence...At least for the time being.

Next thing you know, Jungkook's face lightened up, and even when Jimin bit his head off for breaking one of Jin’s fancy dinnerware, his facial expression persisted undaunted. Jungkook kept a serene masquerade, but through closer observation, he clenched his jaw at Jimin’s hand on cradling the small of his wife’s back, guiding her into hiding in the upper part of the house for a reason unknown.

Jungkook let Jimin take you no-fuss included, Hence, Your encaged situation. For all, you know, The men were downstairs plotting a far-flung strategy to murder you making it look like a battle of defense.

Though, You were more occupied by another Crack for the floor down below. ” Ahh!” You cried out, falling back on the bed once again.

Meanwhile, Downstairs.

”Stop! Breaking Hyung’s plates, or we're both as good as dead!” Jimin growled. ”Quit avoiding the question! Who the hell is that woman!? Did you hurt her!? Why-!” Jimin asked Jungkook until his cheeks burned a reddish hue, and his neck veins were dominant.

In one swift breath, Jungkook responded. “ She’s Mrs.Jeon. My wife.”

Jimin knew his maknae had a few loose screws in his head, but this is getting out of hand.

”Wife?! Do you know how old you are!? Kook, You just turn twenty-three-”

”So What.” Jungkook interrupted. ”You want me to wait until I’m an ancient fart like Hyung to get married.”

”Pffft.” Jimin pressed his lips into a thin line suppressing his need to laugh. ”Ahem, respect your elders-You little brat.”

Amidst the brothers at each other's throats, another member of the maknae line awakened from his mid-morning nap; drowsy eyed Kim Taehyung waddled upstairs to check up on his Hyung living in the room above him.

He could have sworn a faint scream is what he heard-Well; there's no harm in checking.

You jumped at the squeaky hinges of the door opening. Wait, it was unlocked!? Expecting the uninvited visitor to be Jungkook, You raised a pillow over your head, ready to be hurled-to your amazement; it was a completely different man.

A long-haired male with long chocolate locks kept at bay by a beige headband; his attire was disarray. His tank top hung off his shoulder, slightly creased in his pajama pant’s waistband.

Adorable, to say the least, the poor thing’s eyes weren’t even fully open yet, the pretty pink pout of his lips nearly forced an” Aw” from yours.

”Who are you?” He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Sweet mother of deep, He stood a few feet away, but the raspiness and depth of his voice caused your insides to start quivering.

”I’m-I’m the sand fairy.” You choked out, fluttering the tips of your fingers as if spreading magic dust. ” I'm here to ensure all your dreams are sweet. ”

You nibbled your lip nervously, hoping he takes the bait. He yawned in response dragging his exhausted body across the room to you; he halts. You gulped, staring up at him; you felt like a mouse about to pounce on by a tiger.

”H-H-I!” You yelped.

The man took no real investment in your fib; instead, he decided to reap the benefits of how soft and plushy you are by laying his head on your bare thighs. He wiggled in place to reach maximum comfort.

”Ah.” He moaned, falling back to sleep.

Oh, dear.

………

The sound of the hyung’s arrival made the two maknae gulp.

First in the door was Hoseok, hands full grocery bags ” Come help! Quick, save the ice cream if it isn't soup by now.”

Namjoon followed behind. ” I told Jin not to get the ice cream first-He knows how he gets with his coupons.”

”The worst part is he got upset when we told him that's enough food then told to stay in the car.” Yoongi stretched out the pins and needles feeling in his limbs.

”You may say that's enough now, but when that brat comes, he's going to eat us out of house and home!” Jin scolded, unconsciously fetching the rest of the bags.

Jin froze, staring at Jungkook, helping put the food in the correct places. He didn't hesitate to smother his baby boy in a hug, but right after, he jabbed Jungkook's gut.

”Oof!” Jungkook doubled over, gripping his chest. ” I missed you too,” He coughed.

Jin stood tall. ” And there's plenty more where that came from once Hoseok gets his hands on you.”

Anyone but Hoseok.

” I heard Jk!” Hoseok rushed Jungkook a bear hug. ” Thank goodness you're alright!” He jabbed in his Jungkook's gut. ” Where the hell have you been?!”

Jungkook groaned. ” Ou-Ouch..I won't be able to tell you if I keep getting hit.” He cleared his throat. ”America.”

”America!” The hyungs blared out.

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. ” What possessed you to go there on your own? Have you forgotten what you are?”

Jungkook sighed. “ I know, I know, but I just envy normal people around my age having the freedom to go wherever they want.”

“ But you’re not," Yoongi brutally minced Jungkook’s sob story. He’s not particularly fond of beating around the bush, especially when dealing with his brothers earlier this afternoon. “ Unlike ‘normal’ twenty-year-olds, you are adored by army who would be upset if anything happened to you.”

Jungkook bowed his head in shame; the thought of army never really crossed his mind.

“And-“ Yoongi continued. “ There are crazies in every country, so what made you think heading off on your own would be alright!?”

“Why America?” Namjoon’s brow jumped as the gears in his head began to turn. “ Out of all the beautiful places we visited-You chose the U.S? What was there that you had to leave without an explanation?”

Namjoon stared at Jungkook’s eyes not in a malicious sense, just a habit when trying to figure out a solution or, in this case, a missing clue to the reason his little brother hopped up and left.

“Twinkats (Twinkies),” Jimin laughed nervously. “ I bet his suitcase is full of them.”

Sadly, Jimin’s fairy charm wouldn’t work this time. Jungkook is drowning in deep waters, and there’s no salvage coming for miles; at this rate, Jungkook had two options: tell the truth, orrrr, run away with his loving wife in his arms.

Not gonna lie; Jungkook leaned towards the second option, but the fates had another plan.

”Hyung! Hyung! Namjoon-Hyungie!!” Taehyung screamed bloody murder, sprinting downstairs minus jumping the last five steps. ” Her ankle is purple!”

Taehyung paused, breathing heavily in front of the kitchen where the interrogation is being held, accompanied by a woman injured cradled in his arms, more worried about him dropping than her throbbing ankle.

Taehyung had the room’s undivided attention, and Jungkook’s enviousness scowl; his wife was clinging on to another man like a baby koala to its mother but had it been him, she would scratch his eyes out.

Let's not mention the fact! It seems like she's only wearing a shirt, and guess who the owner is, not him!

” Who-”

”What-”

”Why”

” How!?”

Before getting into details about the hyung's reaction to their new houseguest, let's first take a detour to Prince Taehyung mini rescue adventure.

A good hour in, Taehyung woke up from the best nap of his life to beautiful damsel sniffles and tears. The sweetheart asked what was wrong and nodded as the damsel explained, coming to realize she was in distress. Prince Taehyung aided the beauty with new clothes and tied a red ribbon into her hair….beacause he thought it would look pretty (Shrugs).

However, her ankle injury required a different source of help, so who else to ask but his favorite Hyung? But he couldn't find Yoongi in his room, so he decided to ask Namjoon instead.

Back to the original story

Taehyung explains the truth unconsciously, throwing his little brother under the bus.

Jin’s eye twitched as he peered at Jungkook, who was attempting to slip out of the kitchen. ” You little sh-!”

Let's just say Jin didn't nearly beat Jungkook almost half to death with a rice paddle while shouting numerous insults to bruise a thousand men’s pride in a second.

It went silent after Jin banished Jungkook to the beach house a few feet from the house until he wanted to see his face again. Namjoon took it upon himself to introduce the gang.

You politely shared a warm hello but wished nothing more to go home.

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagination #bts smut #bts #bts army #bts imagine #bts namjoon #bts run #jungkook yandere #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere jeon jungkook #jjk fanfic #jeon jungkookie #bts jeongkook #jeon jungguk

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klvbxlove · 4 years ago

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home (iida x gn! reader)

a/n: after months, i have finally came out with another iida x reader! i’ve actually been trying to write one for the past month, but every time i tried to write, my ideas just didn’t work and i’d end up deleting it. today, i wanted to try to do something a little different and write some angst! this is my first time doing it. feel free to give me some constructive criticism of how i can improve. i’m sorry if this is a bit shorter than my other 2 writings. oh, and by the way, i’m considering publishing all my iida x reader drabbles on wattpad! in case you’re interested. my username is the same as my tumblr username. anyways, hope you enjoy reading!

reader-type: gender-neutral

genre(s): angst

trigger warning(s): mentions of death, slight mention of suicide

summary: all iida wants is for you to come back home, even though he know you won’t.

word count: 1k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(f/a/c) = favorite anime character (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

It was only a few months ago Iida enjoyed coming home from work or anywhere else. Now he hated it.

Well, hate is a bit of an understatement. Iida loathed it.

With the keys jingling as he opened the front door to his apartment, the only thing that would greet him was silence as he stepped inside. He had to dwell in the sadness and sorrow as he proceeded to do his routine. Change out of his hero costume, shower, eat dinner, brush his teeth, and then read a book before going to bed.

Iida couldn’t even bear sleeping in his bedroom. Hell, he couldn’t even look inside it! It was only a reminder that no matter what, Iida will always be the only person sleeping in it. Even if he could hold your (F/A/C) plushie or the pillow you used as he slept, why would he want to? Did he even want to try to hurt himself emotionally more? No! There was no need for it!

The most Iida could do was stand outside of his bedroom door and stare off into the distance. Now that he was not at the workplace or a public place, he could finally let his waterworks run. All the sobs and cries bubbling inside him exploded. But this time, there was no one there to soothe his sorrows away.

Why?

Oh, that was simple.

You were no longer there with him.

Sure, people say that you can still feel the souls of a person who died. But to Iida, that wasn’t the case. He felt absolutely nothing. Well, if you counted emptiness. Then yes, he felt emptiness. It had gotten to the point where Iida felt like the only way to get out of his misery was to join you in whatever place you ended up, so you would be reunited.

Despite his close friend group and family members attempting to comfort him throughout this time, it didn’t work. Nothing made Iida crack at least one tiny smile. There was no longer a reason for smiling without having you by his side.

But if anything, Iida felt like it was his fault for your passing. He was supposed to be a pro hero. And what do they do? Protect people from danger and prevent crimes from happening! Yet, he could still remember that day the infamous villain attack occurred. You and your friends just so happened to be at the location.

The chaos that happened, the terrified screams of civilians, so much as happening. Iida gave it all he could to stop the villains from causing more harm. If anything, it seemed as though he was winning! With the help of the other pro heroes, they would be able to arrest the villains and bring them to justice!

Well, that would’ve actually happened until one of the villains decided to pick you as his next victim.

Suddenly, Iida found himself unable to move. It was as if someone decided to freeze his entire body. In his ears, there was nothing but the sound of your petrified screams, begging him or someone to help you. ‘Move Iida Tenya!’ he had screamed internally, ‘For the love of All Might and other pro heroes, MOVE! MOVE YOUR LEGS!’

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he had to watch with his blue eyes widened, and his mouth hung agape as the villain proceeded to use his quirk to end your life. And unfortunately, it was quick. The only thing Iida could do now was to wait for paramedics to arrive as he held your dead body in his arms. He felt his own body shaking as he called your name out multiple times and begging you to wake up. It was evident that you were long gone, but he refused to believe it. You just had to wake up!

When paramedics arrived, there was nothing they could do to bring you back. And it gave Iida the realization that everything was his fault. If he had not been in complete shock, he would have been able to save you. He failed you, not only as a pro hero but as your boyfriend.

He was so pathetic, wasn’t he?

If someone like Bakugo were there to tell him how much of a complete dumbass he was, he wouldn’t even scold them for insulting him. He knew he deserved it.

Bringing himself back to reality, Iida found his hand gripping onto the handle of the bedroom door and opening it wide open. Flicking on the lights, he looked across the room. Everything stayed the same as it did before. Nothing moved, nothing removed, and nothing added.

And on one of the walls was a small collage of polaroids. Hanging above your desk, you and Iida have taken almost all of them through your relationship.

Iida walked over to the bed and sat down on it, staring at that one wall with his eyes, which was already devoid of its blue color. He looked at the many small items he had bought for you that still stood on your desk. One of which was a miniature (F/A/C) statue Iida bought for you on your birthday. Another was a set of cards with images of your favorite artists (he thanked one of his former classmates, Jiro, for giving him the idea of a Christmas present).

All of these were the only things that Iida could keep in your remembrance, and he wouldn’t dare himself to give or throw them away.

Taking off his glasses and putting them next to him, Iida buried his face into his hands. “(Y/N),” his voice barely came as a whisper. “I...I’m so sorry, my love. It’s only been months since you died, but I know you would still be here with me had I not let that villain kill you. What kind of a hero am I for letting that happen? I’ve let you down, I know. And I’m sorry.

“It hurts me deeply to know that you’re not going to return. As much as I want that to happen, it won’t. But (Y/N)...” Iida felt his body starting to shake, and his eyes were beginning to produce tears. It was a process he’d been struggling with for these past few months, and he had no idea when he’d be able to stop.

“Please, I’m begging you. Oh goodness, please...”

Once the river of tears started to trickle down his cheeks, Iida didn’t stop to wipe them. He looked down at the floor through his blurry vision.

“...Come back home.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #iida tenya #bnha iida #iida x y/n #bnha x y/n #fanfiction #oneshot #bnha imagines #bnha iida imagines #iida x reader #mha x reader #mha reader insert #mha x y/n #kristin's writings

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achilleasfury · 4 years ago

Note

Sally headcanons?

of course :D

- prefers being the physical age of 8 to 10 but is actually like 50-70 - she can change her physical appearance but prefers to be a child, like a coping mechanism, as she never could grow up nor have a great childhood - Sally acts all innocent and baby, because thats how she can get further, but if needed she’ll turn into a sassy queen - doesnt kill, only did it once with her uncle as the victim - prefers to stay with the female pastas, especially Jane and Clockwork - only really gets along with BEN, EJ and Slenderman (from the male pastas) - Sally is aware that the others are killing, she just doesnt address and simply ignores it - if you get an invitation to one of her parties, you better attend or you’ll get shit on from everyone in the mansion (excluding Lj and Jason) - she is some kind of Poltergeist (I think its canon but anyways) - which means, she mostly just floats and can move around small objects like a bear plushie - her power grows with her emotions; if she gets angry, she grows and can fly high, while being able to move huge objects like whole beds - Sally cant read really good, as she was just pulled out of her life without really school and such - Slenderman tried to teach her once, but she got really frustrated and now Jane tries to help her, but there is no real success - also she is stuck between a royal and a pirate phase - so she mostly just dresses likes a princess with a fancy sword - yes, she did manage to put BEN in a knight costume with a pirate bandana instead of a helmet - if you would ask Sally who she sees at family, she would answer, the closest to a brother is BEN, due to the similar body age - also she got into a fist fight with Jeff once, because he insulted knight!BEN - Jeff had some fancy bruises - know knew an 8 year old could throw the dinner table at him?

i’ve been thinking so much about this, and I still cant get more. Im so fuckihg sorry. But whoo, at least one ask. out of like. ten thousands in my inbox. oop-

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 4 years ago

Text

Complete Butterfly Outline

Howdy friends. The following is the complete chapter by chapter outline for Butterfly. Now that the fic is finished and some people want to see it, I figured there was no harm in sharing. Maybe this will help some of you better your own outline process. Note that not everything that appears here made it into the fic, and some things that did don’t appear in this outline. Some events are also in different order due to me changing my mind during the actual writing. Feel free to ask me questions about those discrepancies or anything else. Please enjoy!

Butterfly

The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp is supposed to be a break from anxiety. But between concerns of history repeating itself, a major research project, and a bleak introduction to chaos theory, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air. But those worries are a light breeze compared to the thunderstorm that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town. Or rather, what finds him.

1. Chaos Theory -thankful -comic book assignments -sound of thunder -butterfly effect -field trip

2. Yakku -bus ride -small town hero work -interject about butterfly -Cheat-A demonstration -talk with all might

3. Small time -community engagement -reports of stolen food -first day tour and fun, photos with fans -heat lightning -second day early morning patrols -groups: Sero, Toruu, Deku with hero -different route than normal -bullies, can’t threaten with quirk, but has his body -investigate diner -dead bodies

4. Let’s Talk About Anything Else -deku falls back on a table -kitchen covered in blood and black feathers -body: slash across stomach and eyes, other exposed shoulder blades -three form a perimeter while hero investigates -backup arrives, kids dismissed -hug -might have gotten there sooner had they taken a different road -statements and debriefs -return to hotel, can’t eat -hang out in room, read to pass time -talk about comic projects -nightfall’s, others return -Momo makes plushies -animal jokes -can’t sleep

5. The First Rung of the Spiral -third day, more patrols -stolen food in the night -seminar “That was... definitely higher than in practice.” “Oh good, it wasn’t just me.” -feels like a warm hug, full body feeling of when all might ruffles his hair -“this is mine. This is me.” -izuku gets through but get sick afterwards from anxiety -secret lake, something in the distance, canceled -watahashi - cross bridge -hibiki - echo -takuya - open also -dead deer -sleep on bus by All might, anxiety subsides

6. Nothing is Okay -week passes -Tsuyu dreams of drowning, talks to Deku -anxiety returns with a vengeance -occasional intense back pain -counseling with hound dog, recommends something from home -pissed that they didn’t receive immediate grief counseling -speak with recovery girl about pain, nothing physically wrong -prescribes a sleep aid, anxiety meds left open -return to dorm to find his leftovers missing

7. Part of the Job -training: escort -dread and erased quirk -deku’s team loses fake civilian -takes it hard -stays later to talk to Aizawa -more complaints about missing food -Mineta brings thank you gift, gourmet popcorn -pain hasn’t stopped -return for movie night: Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths -brief talk with iida -if we were to meet ourselves, we wouldn’t recognize ourselves -“saying the same thing over and over isn’t exactly helping either.” -deku can’t sleep, returns to his own bed

8. Yakku’s Finest -small town investigation inconclusive, murderer remains at large but reports of stolen food have stopped -diner money left untouched but larder picked clean -blood set, attacked in the night -quirk discussion, vague, strained relationship, -teleported in from somewhere, teleported away -DNA testing to be done on feathers “Did you ever go to investigate the houses with stolen food? When was the last instance reported?” “Four days after the murder.” “How far back can your quirk see?” “One day.” “How many days has it been?”

9. Dread -awake from pain -reading news updates -school forum rumors about stolen food

10. The Mind Killer -earthquake rescue training -keep notes on others to make up credit -dread not as bad -still has brace, sleepy and sick from concussion -pretends to be better -argument after almost throwing up -getting late -all might was never able to find his all star Superman trade reading online -picnic table with mirio, suneater, and eri -babysitters -talk about projects, mirio did shadow cat and suneater did animal man -brings up Superman’s suneater -all might approaches, chastises him for staring at a screen while he has a concussion, offers Superman trade instead -discuss the fall -what’s one more scar? -“why didn’t you tell me?” -“I don’t know” -“you could have been killed.” -dread tells him he only cares for one for all -phone call -mom going out of town -izuku lies -banging down the hall -getting closer -deku hides behind door -thing hesitates in his room, goes to door -wing claw and eye reveal -calls for help, thing vanishes -no evidence -“I felt it breathe on me.” -most don’t believe him

11. Ache -hospital -nothing wrong -can’t enjoy getting the brace off -another little scar -recoverygirl argues with nurse -all might arrives with stuff -tells izuku to call his mom -confesses to illness -schedule specialist appointment -nothing on cameras -explain Midoriyas condition -compare notes with Jakku -all might calls Gran Torino about izuku’s symptoms -aoyama thinks about Midoriya during earthquake simulation -others ask about the seizure but he doesn’t have answers -put together a card and nice dinner to welcome him back -try to make food himself -update from Aizawa : Midoriya coming back, tired, don’t bother him -izuku breezes past everyone, uraraka follows -has an attack on the stairs -never happened before -retreats to room, leaving uraraka behind

12. From the Outside -bakugo dreams of the sludge villain -sees deku in the crowd, yelling sorry -wakes up, goes to bathroom -finds a black feather, thinks it’s a prank -realizes he would have done the same thing back in middle school -destroys it (invisibitch) -thinks he’s being merciful -izuku keeps thinking he sees the creature out of the corner of his eyes -pain comes randomly -can’t sleep -anticipation of pain keeps him awake -rubbing against ribs -move up appointment -talk with midnight -fanmail activity -“I am the American father waiting on the porch with a shotgun for whatever pathetic excuse for a date is gonna try and take my little angels to the prom.” -wants to hug him, he hates hugs -“I can only do so much” “so much is better than nothing” -rumors of people suddenly unable to use their quirks -might be an illness or one for all hurting him -gives in to anxiety medication -needs to get in contact with a specialist for nerve damage -takes up hound dogs suggestion of something from home

13. Nostalgia For The Future -deku goes home for a plushie, brings todoroki -mom isn’t home -todoroki likes his house, feels small but full -nothing about his dad -“would being his son make his obsession more or less weird?” -declares intent to become a hoarder -confesses to dream about losing his quirk and father hurting him for it -Despite recent trauma, deku hasn’t dreamt at all -swaps a book from all might for one of mom’s -nerve specialist, dendrite -rash -“as a fan I was impressed, but the doctor in me couldn’t help but cringe”. “See? He gets it.” -neurotoxin as anesthetic (but why) -all might watches procedure -“the scene brings to mind ritual sacrifices from old movies” -maybe attacked during procedure, mess with vitals and life support -chemical evidence that izuku’s brain is firing off pain response -common fixation in young empaths, recreate perceived trauma in themselves -“was there?” “...I could see bones poking out...” -basic testing comes up negative -“When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras”. Here we have a zebra -someone is using an empathy quirk on him -someone ate his leftovers -old all might plushie pats bunny -he was so done. So done, that as he laid down to make a futile effort at sleep, it crossed his mind that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to never wake up. -izuku did wake up; to see Mini-him standing on the ground with a hole in his chest and a slash across his eyes. -wake up to bunny plushy with tears that mirror original victims

14. The Rolling Thing With Wings -Aoyama saw it this time -“Midoriya’s villain is real”, -something is for sure on campus -Aizawa and other teachers immediately go out and search -cold rain -lights catch black feathered mass that rolls away -Aizawa can’t get a good look -thing tries to flee but keeps getting cut off -uses dread quirk, flattens teachers -finally sees it, it cancels his quirk before he can -vanishes -hound dog smells izuku -back to dorm, all might and students comforting izuku -plushie remains the same but camera footage shows nothing -Aizawa and izuku compare dread effects -realizes it may go after his mom

15. Bittersweet Release -Inko arrives at mustafu train station early in the morning -phone call from Aizawa telling her not to go home -wait to be escorted by heroes -calls izuku, he confesses to what’s been going on -doesn’t want to risk putting her in the line of fire -kids spend the nights in the dorm shelter -“The villain was able to hover right over Midoriya’s bed while he slept. Any one of those nights he could have killed him. And since we didn’t have any evidence, we assumed he was having nightmares like everyone else. Do you understand the gravity of what your inaction could have brought on?” -discussion of feelings with hound dog -apologies for doubt -rejoin students -news, villain warning issued -connections to missing food -anyone paying attention could figure out victim is izuku -harsh criticism of UA -izuku elects to take responsibility -hound dog leaves for meeting

16. Table Scraps -hound dog comes in late, cloth tied around mouth in place of muzzle -villain smelled like Midoriya, that close -teachers check security, limited evidence, suggest a quirk that can reverse/move outside of time -connection to missing food -Noumu theory is proposed due to multiple quirks and black appearance -all for one still in prison, twice? -similar to Yakku, get in contact -pathfinder shows map of trails -only found perimeter -entered town to chase the bus -villain seemed to stop existing -one missing quirk: night vision -meanwhile, pro heroes patrolling near apartment -“oh please. All mights had a kid at UA since my parents were in school.” -spot a figure go up the stairs and enter with a key/silhouette in the window -nobody from the family is supposed to be nearby -go inside and confront the middle school-aged boy, mass under shirt -find him wandering the house, ignoring them -introduce themselves -he goes to sit on the main bed, eating, heroes angry -“waiting” “for who?” “My family” -“my house” -“NO”

17. Voight-Kompff -stitches out -out running for the first time in weeks -one for all makes him feel whole, pictures the previous users welcoming him back into their embrace -breath deeper -“this is mine. This is me.” -“izuku wasn’t a spiteful person. Not at all. He got angry at villains for hurting people, yes, but he couldn’t recall at time where it felt personal. So it came as a bit of a shock when he found himself pondering if the villain’s wings were hollow, like in birds. They would break easier that way.” -“hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. But knowing his luck, he’d treat it like an inevitable.” -full cowl practice interrupted -“once it’s gone I can be with mom.” -medical exam with officers present -increase in students asking for sleep aids -izuku called back again, this time with teachers -karma for complaining about uraraka -gives back minihim -2 heroes murdered in his apartment the previous evening -it isn’t the artificial dread, it’s real -Like before: no security footage, food stolen, wiped search history, this time it seems clothes and personals were also stolen -“quirkless virus” show similar symptoms as victims of all for one -some have different quirks than before, usually minor -most are regular civilians, no hero, cop, or medical staff until murders -murder of diner owners still unclear -pattern, no pain on nights food is stolen -stealth quirks, likely to make another attack -DNA of feathers came back -same as izuku

18. Powder Keg -toga told to investigate league contact -warehouse trashed, dead everywhere -“Oh, yeah, no, they’re dead. And whoever did it was super sloppy.” “Hang on, Dabs, I’m getting another call.” -answers dead guy’s phone -“how did I ever survive without the preserve jars?” -rumors of someone who broke into UA by themselves, after Izuku -elects to investigate -Superman presentation -outside heroes on campus -Outfield, izuku debates talking to him -unsure if they know the dna connection -calls mom, asks about family -we didn’t want you to feel like you were being replaced -class exercise, warned not to push it -izuku does something during exercise that spooks outfield -sleep in shelter past three nights -villain warning issued -other students don’t know about Izuku’s DNA -sleep in shifts -all might stays close -tries to text mom good night, signal can’t get through the concrete -eri is there, tries to cheer him up “Zawa said there’s a bad guy after you.” “She’s your biggest fan.” “She might have to fight Kota for that.” -tells her she should go somewhere else since the bad guy is targeting him -she’s having none of it -later, eri and all might asleep on either side of him -keeps an eye on the door -hears sato’s phone buzz, he waves him off to signal his shift is over -lays back, tries to relax -sudden tightness in chest, opens eyes to see the other one standing on the ceiling directly above him

19. Fish in a Barrel -Aizawa realizes its a set up -the other one tries to stab him with the wing spike, eyes glowing red to erase his quick -rolls to cover eri and calls to the others -hits him in the head, disabling quirk -takes out lights -everyone tries to go for him, easily thrown back -slashed across multiple chests -the other tries to go for the door, todoroki freezes it -the other burns and breaks it down, vanishes -chase with bakugo, find toga -“my dad could breath fire” -teacher question how it could have gotten in with so many standing guard -it must have come in with them -mislead the heroes -comfort eri -wounds tended to -Tooru seriously hurt, crying, outlined by blood -idea floated to move izuku somewhere else -toga found wounded at the edge of campus

20. Walk Without Rhythm -“you’re sending me away?” -talk about moving izuku to protect the others -say goodbye outside, the want to lure it -switch trains last minute -dread fades -Aizawa says goodbye -appearance change -tooru wake up in hospital with parents -They met all might, other kids here and awake -tiger comes in with brace, izuku broke his shoulder -all might went back to help -discuss, don’t think the nomu was intentionally hurting them -tell that to midoriya -what are they doing with him -encounters old bullies who act like fans -Aizawa back with the others, discuss -public place. Hundreds of people. Broad. Fucking. Daylight. -pathfinder there, nomu was inside for hours, quirk that displaces itself -nomu is intelligent, understands aizawa -only superfans and former students know him -izuku mentioned his father was as much of a fan -toga unresponsive -maybe move him to another safe house, evidence that the other is locating quirks through police records, he’s gotten through most defenses -victims have minor records -mom moved around too, discouraged from contacting her -better to hide, all might’s house -end of the day, tired and sweaty -brush appearance change out of his hair, hug -it’s the first time all day he’s felt like a person -“I’m sorry I left you behind”

21. All in All -izuku stays up late to call his dad -argue about timing -“sorry I didn’t call. I wasn’t sure of your schedule in this mess and I didn’t want to bug you. “Sure” -mostly unaware of what’s happening, mom told them to talk -changes the subject to the Jakku seminar, tries to relate to quirk hurting him -thinks his dad only likes him for his quirk -“you can’t keep crying like this every time you’re stressed. Youre sixteen, way to old to be crying like this. You’re a hero. Villains aren’t going to wait for you to get yourself together.” -“look, if you’re not gonna be invested in the conversation, maybe you should hang up, and we can talk later, ‘Kay?” -Skype call with Toga -managed to talk to it briefly, voice changer -the villain didn’t like her, in denial -said he would fix it -crusty and gross, waste of a healing factor -deku-kun is here, isn’t he? -tells jokes to distract from Dad -all might’s in specialty housing for tall quirks, modestly decorated with comic merch and newspapers -device to hide his life signs -fanart from Young Izuku on the fridge, bought the magnets just to put it up -old classmates posting about him online, he’s a cool hero -forum trolls, could probably take them -“I thought you were supposed to be discouraging me from picking fights with villain’s every other month.” “Oh hey look at that, you made a quip” -talk about feelings ⁃ is my rambling annoying, endearing -“it’s okay to still be upset, you know. You don’t have to move on right away.” -year newspaper -butterfly returns to U.A., breaks window, noises, squeezes through naked -students pretend to sleep, half in costume -it passes over them

22. Idle Imprisonment -day 2, report comes in, three critically wounded policemen not far from u.a. -izuku does class work ⁃ all Might pins points on a map, far off -day 3, more reports of missing and mismatched quirks: tracking and radar -day four: 4 civilians and 1 hero murdered, several others injured -feathers through the eyes -mt lady back in action -izuku can’t take it, wants to go out and confront butterfly -massive argument with all might, hides in room again -“cabin fever!?” -all might figures he’ll try to sneak out, overhears him struggle, his windows don’t open

23. It Matters -later that night, all might offers dinner, goes to watch tv -izuku slinks out and eats with him on the couch -“think I don’t know how it feels? To be stuck inside safe while the thing that hurt you is running free to do more harm?” -“I miss it sometimes, but I get to spend more time with you” “I’m not worth it.” -“if it hadn’t hurt me, I might not have met you. Either my time limit didn’t force me to hear you out or I might not have come back to mustafu at all.” -back and forth about izuku’s worth, “are you trying to convince me to be happy or regretful” -“ok, lets try this: what do you hate about me?” -“I hate that you don’t trust me.” “And you constantly treat me like a little kid! Hate that too!” “You are a kid!” -“I want you to tell me one thing you don’t like about me. As a person.” “Why?” “If I have to be honest about how I feel so do you. You only ever say nice things. You act like there’s nothing wrong with me but there is. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to keep guessing.” “... back in the shelter, after the villain attack... that was the only time I’ve ever heard you truly laugh.” “... that’s it?” -“I, I’m not a fan of how you talk about that video of my debut.” “But, But It was a great rescue-“ “It was awful,” he snapped. Midoriya recoiled. Good. “It was so awful. Hundreds of people died. Most of the people I pulled to safety didn’t pull through. I hear them screaming still in my dreams. I hated every second of that night. And I hate that you love it.” -“That shot one shot, the one people plaster everywhere, of me coming over the ridge carrying a dozen people? Half of them were already dead.” -“How did you even see that anyway?” “Mom said the news was running a special for the twenty-five year anniversary... I watched it with my dad...” “and you would have been what? Two, three?” -talk about debut -tells him about Nana and his childhood -hid from villain’s like this “I loved her like my mother.” “Did she love you as a son.” -“it doesn’t matter.” It does. -talks about how izuku is great -never initiated a hug before, what else could he do besides pull him closer? -“I hate yelling at you. You’ve had too much of that in your life. I just want you to be happy.” -“and I’m going to keep you here until you realize how much you matter” -caught between child and adult, wonder what he’d be like had he never influenced him -will the scars on his arm grow with him? -he wanted to just keep holding him, to make up for all the times he should have but didn’t. -carries him to bed -“I can walk.” “I want to carry you.” -he’s going to be okay. He’ll grow up. Conquer the world with his smile. Be the unshakable pillar the world needs, all Might had no doubt. But not tonight. Someday, but not tonight. Tonight, he is a small terrified child, separated from his family, and on the run from an unknown horror. Tonight, he deserves a moment to be scared and sad, and be comforted. -life sign hider gone -prays he stays just this small forever -he’s like a son to him -he stays for a while after he falls asleep, just to be sure

24. The Other One -all might dreams of his death at the hands of all for one/wolfram -wakes up to alarm, needs to eat -izuku inspired him to keep living, gets up to check on him -remembers the dream theory, goes to check his fridge -closes it, butterfly is right there -smells him before he sees him -running down a list of ways to get a hit in, major blood vessel in the temple -“Hello” silence, “are you all might?” Ask about fighting the ‘same’ villain Beat him with the help of his student Butterfly gets angry, the other one -“he’s almost shocked to here a human voice come out of it... a young voice.” Other what -comes into the light, more scar than skin -talks him down, reaches out to touch him -doesnt believe -same shoes, faded and frayed and falling apart, but the same -never one to talk down hostage/suicide -says his name -butterfly stunned, cries at the kind touch -hug -same eyes -he’s izuku again

Reveal post - https://lckhr.tumblr.com/post/175255988293/okay-villaindeku-is-so-popular-right-now-but

I want to add to this real quick because I just dug up my original notes I wrote at 2 am last summer when I first thought of this fic and it reminded me of some stuff. The world of My Hero Academia is set up in such a way that whatever bullshit power you can think of will probably fit. A lot of superhero universes have that, but something about MHA makes it so much more pronounced. Combine that with the idea of All for One, a quirk that lets the user wield an unknown number of powers, and there is some serious potential to absolutely abuse the setting. The idea was to create a lone villain that could perfectly counter everything thrown at it, to the point where it feels like a supernatural monster. Security? Quirk that prevents cameras and sensors from recording its image. Evidence? Quirk that rewinds time on displaced objects. Witnesses? Quirk that prevents people who are already asleep from waking up.

25. Butterfly: Origin -“as hard as he tried throughout his life, Toshinori knew he could never be Superman.” -“He wants to hurt your boy/ but he is my boy” -all might feeds him, too thin, still heavy -talks him into taking a bath while he makes him a warm meal -Texts his izuku to be silent and contact Naomasa -stolen possessions with his clothes, folding quirk, , flattening, sticker quirk -cries at the red shoes -butterfly comes back out, reveals wings -all might makes him a cutout shirt and sling for vestigial wings -its a cold night,hairdryer, hopefully izuku sees the opportunity -“he’s so gentle. The boys arms are thinner than his. It’s wrong. He feels like any pressure greater than a brush will shatter bones. He could break his fingers with a pinch. But maybe he should. This is a villain. It tried to kill my boy. But he is my boy.” -“did you ever fly?” “Once” -“it’s okay, you didn’t know.” -getting scolded for hurting himself is universal -so is being a chatterbox -considers Christmas present in the closet -tells him to lay down on the couch and watch tv -butterfly asks about one for all, consent -admits to killing Mirio -all might asks about all for one, vague backstory -noticed something was wrong after usj -“he said there was a time where there wasn’t a single child in Japan born without his permission.” “It was a mercy killing at that point.” -more time in a day, imprisoned for seemingly twice as long -drawn to yakku by picture of lodge that looks like apartments -“I heard someone say my name” -lie, offered to trade quirk, got in a drunken fight -has both parents quirks, implied to have killed Dad -wanted to scare his izuku into going home, no one was there, took it out -has mom’s quirk, “someone else lives there now.” -tried to find mom, “once he’s gone, I can be with mom.” -“I’m only hurting me. I’m not worth it -inter-dimensional quirk, -Inching closer to all might -you didn’t say that, the other you did -all might confronts him on his crimes, defense is that they started it -“you’re not right” -puts head in all might’s lap and moves his hand to his head -found izuku, jealous of his life, not sure what to do -realizes that izuku has one for all -“WHY” -describes the sludge villain incident -compare outcomes -butterfly gets upset, prepares to strike -all might says sorry

26. Bizarro -izuku listening in the whole time -attacks butterfly as he’s about to strike -wounds all might in the chest -butterfly screams accusations -brutal fight, bitten ear -izuku stands up to dread -ripped vestigial wings clean off -fight, flees at approach of heroes -wind and rain enter through broken window, mess up all mights hero shrine -izuku still feels like he has grime on his hands from the wing -its me -hospital, all might severely injured but stable -sneaks into room -stabbed where his lung used to be -“Did I ever apologize for saying you couldn’t be a hero?” -apologizes through tears for saying izuku can’t be a hero -sad hugs -tells nurse that he’s his son

27. Same -thinks butterfly is holding him -Aizawa says nurses told him all might was with his son, calls it inappropriate -hesitant to leave all might -please don’t take him from me -all might holds onto him for as long as he can -Aizawa wants to call them over dramatic, but this feels warranted -it’s me, i know -news from kids perspective -Sero -escorted everywhere, never alone -no way to tell what’s going on -wake up, check the news -need to confront butterfly -meeting in a moving vehicle -Pathfinder there, special sunglasses -how many were killed, lie -Butterfly’s notes, crinkled and overfilled, izuku can read them -addresses, quirks? -safe places, food, Trying to find home -plan A, swan dive -he was trying to get me to kill myself -plan b, kidnap to other dimension and kill, pose as the same one having been tortured -what’s plan c? -more missing quirks and murders, offensive capabilities -pathfinder attacked, quirk stolen -team of heroes go over what they know about him -analysis of wing he ripped off -rapid nerve death, theorize that his healing quirk is killing him -why hasn’t it? Quirk preventing organ failure -once the body runs out of fat, it goes for muscle -after muscle, it goes for cardiac muscles -that’s what the dread is, empathy -perpetually on the brink of a heart attack -means they might be able to go all out against him -uses inter dimensional quirk to conceal movement -ask izuku what he could mean by the right quirk -memory alteration, body swap -all might Skyped in “You’ve been trying to clean up the mess the other you made, let me do the same.” -you didn’t fail, the other you did -how to restrict movement, only ever does it outside -shelters never built in his world -set a trap, need a place that doesn’t exist in butterfly’s world

28. The Net -go through the tunnels to the main shelter under the school -can’t discuss the plan Bakugou tries to ignore him and unpack his stuff Izuku flinches from contact -says goodbye to classmates I love you all, thanks for being my friend... you have no idea what it’s meant to me -don’t talk like that, it makes it sound like you’re not coming back! -hugs -midnight cries -talk with Bakugou -shapeshifter butterfly -it’s a forced smile. “Forced” is the only way to describe it yet if feels like it isn’t enough. -new bunker at UA -limited air conditioning -pathfinder walks him through messing with his quirk -i got your letter -did you know them? They were good people -didn’t mean to be so harsh, people get hurt when you aren’t good enough -step outside briefly, the world is so much more vibrant without his quirk in the way -“it’s a tomb” “yeah. Let’s make sure it’s not yours” -obvious trap, he won’t be enough -need bait -all might about to be discharged -agrees to stay as the casualties of the trap will be sent to the same location -inko enters, told to wait for her son there -got stolen stuff back -izukus first all might toy -talk with all might, maybe izuku’s Dad, left around the time he was quirkless -I want to push him forward, but also want to shield him from the world -welcome to parenthood -asked for blood drawn

29. You Shoot It -dream of deer in the woods, all turn to look at him together, one missing a face -toga disguised as izuku’s mom, distract him long enough to ceil the doors -no sign of butterfly -concern -butterfly enters by bending the door, an army of bugs -Izuku watches from another room, he’s a last resort -toga tries to convince him to stop fighting, can’t -something off -tries to stab him, nothing -turn around -cut to Aizawa -Bakugou seizing, that’s not Deku -“suit up” -strangled -fight -Cementoss seals the door -upgraded -pain sharing, metal feathers, ribbon skin, black bone, fero blood, wing spears, teeth bombs, throw feathers, telekinesis, fire breath -attacks do nothing -it’s an illusion -turn around, butterfly strikes while looking at him reveals partially healed form, antlers Flee out the room, fighters overrun by cockroaches Erasure is his most powerful quirk Izuku flanks him and kicks him in the skull, blocked by antlers -antlers become bendy and grab him Butterfly tries to go for izuku’s eyes using mom’s quirk -other heroes quickly tossed aside -chase down izuku through the maze -fold hole in the wall -punch in the jaw, teeth explode -izuku nearly overpowered -held down completely -strangled

-Aizawa and the class rush to the entrance, blocked off -must be a fail safe, butterfly was meant to break in -break down the doors -what if butterfly manages to escape -mina’s acid, strong punching, laser, explosions Aoyama asks for braces or someone to hold him while he blasts the ground -anger he doesn’t have the right quirk -knows his is the only one that can disable butterfly -they have to take the risk

-held down completely, erasure flickers -Pathfinder hits him with a baton and tries to choke him, distracting him -only one eye -izuku breaks free with 100% -smashes Butterfly’s eyesocket with his knuckle -blood splashes in his face as he flees -scream behind him -arm strained, can’t tell if it’s broken -pathfinder’s fate unknown -brief visions, body swap quirk Realize butterfly has been holding back because he wants a healthy body Test how much

-aizawa run through the maze -find pathfinder -hear screaming

-leap though illusion and snap off one of butterfly’s wings -tear membrane with own feather, cut between broken bones -it tries to crawl back to him -illusion breaks, revealing deer skull -flee, openly crying, bleeding tears -lock hands, izuku breaks others fingers, -wings burst from his back, heroes hold back wings -powers through pain and dread Leaps up and smashes the floor to pieces -butterfly screaming at him Jump at each other -Spears izuku in the back Break through the ceiling -Aizawa erases his quirks -restored appearance fades, more decayed than ever -izuku kicks and breaks his neck

30. YU SHOOT ITT -izuku was fading -a round face, a thin face, green eyes both -something shiny bobbing in and out of sight -butterfly stream of conscious -reuse lines from before -senses izuku in the other room -force shared pain and empathy as he’s dying -izuku screams in agony -felt his stomach split again. A candle to a forest fire. Pathetic. “This is mine. This is me.” -shared perspective -why do you deserve to be happy and i don’t -you kill people, tired to get me to kill myself -but before, i didn’t do anything wrong -why did it all go so bad? -gets up, floats with his quirk -barely copies normal movement -Floats to the door -Aizawa stops him -hard to breath -feels his mom and all might comforting him -that’s really mom -force the connection harder -stop screaming i wanna hear what mom’s saying Aizawa cuts him off again, he cries Feels his bones sink -“do you think if I die in this world, I can still be with my mom?” -goes down struggling -“it’s not fair”

31. At Rest, At Last -izuku flatlines but is revived -undo the latches on his costume Taken back for surgery Sit in the hall and cry for hours -a defibrillator is for a different kind of heart attack -so that’s what it was? A heart attack? Doctor rushes by with an ice box Explain to aizawa that izuku flatlined -butterfly is dead, new despair -took his stomach for izuku -inko and all might go to see butterfly -inko wants to see him, takes a moment to recognize him -that’s her baby -screams -hugs and apologies -all might would have gone to stay with him -they both despair but are thankful for their son -“he was barely five years old, and he was ready to accept that his family didn’t want him.” -goes back to izuku -his hand is bigger than hers, when did that happen?

-final casualty count, pathfinder dead (?) along with several police officers -doctor recounts the autopsy -butterfly was dead on his feet, practically killed him -barely enough muscle to hold his own head up, let alone stand -“in my unprofessional opinion, this was a mercy killing.” -Aizawa looks at the body, that’s midoriya -Aizawa wants to try and bring him back with eri, Might not work, Might traumatize her -argue, all Might says he was too far gone, they wouldn’t be able to shield him from criminal charges, record like his would net him the death penalty anyway, stuck in a cage again, all that hate and fear in his heart left to fester in a padded cell for the rest of his life -thinks he would come after izuku again, what do you think that screaming was? He was trying to take him down with him. -not hurting anyone else, not hurting himself -“He said he wanted, more than anything, to rest/stop fighting/for the pain to stop, and now, he has.” -“Aizawa-kun. .. Please let him rest.” -Aizawa leaves before he can break down

-toshi looks over butterfly -“an innocent butterfly, drowned in mud and crushed under the boot of the world.” -not innocent, but he felt someone should be there to see him off -Apologizes -runs hand through his hair, shushes him even though he’ll be silent for quite a while -hesitant to leave him -that’s my boy... That could have been my boy -bodyswap lingers in his mind -kisses his hairline, touch of cold lingers -goes to wash his hands and face before returning to izuku -wakes up later -“he’s dead” “I know.”

32. All Those Moments -

-aizawa drives back to ua with midnight -she tries to joke with aoyama about makeup, he’s not having it -won’t go into details about butterfly -mic greats them at the gate, hug -comes back to dorms to welcome party “Midoriya’s villain is dead.” -they cheer -Bakugou pulls him aside to try and get answers -people who’s job it is to save lives should never celebrate the death of another human being, be relieved, be thankful, but do not celebrate -don’t cheer for death -cries while holding eri -mic and midnight ask him what’s wrong -he was just a Kid

-do you want to be buried or cremated, inko can’t stop thinking about that phrase -3 services in three days -mass wake for officers -izuku makes rounds, “your child/spouse/parent” saved my life -inko almost couldn’t get out of the car -izuku said he had to come -pathfinder funeral, mention the teens and neji -he saved my life, i want to be worthy -crematorium, limited service in his home town -service in jakku -speak briefly to stripes -ask to speak at the wake, doesn’t have the best luck with speeches -mom asks why, he didn’t really know him -Jakku heroes offer him a job, we’ll save you a spot says he never wants to come back here -pass a boarded up diner -I’m his mother, i should be here -never spoke with butterfly, never in the same room when he was alive -cold gripping horror at burying her own son -service ends in slow motion -no words exchanged -silent for the whole long drive home -dotes on izuku at home -not home, couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping where someone died -all might rented a place/or all might’s apartment -he carries around his all might and blankie -makes him food, watches tv -cuddle in her bed like when he was small -her sweet baby boy grew up to face unfathomable horror -wants to promise no one will hurt him again, they both know she can’t

-villain graveyard -“Izuku Midoriya, 16 years old, at rest at last tailored clothes around his wings, buried is his shoes -izuku goes to butterfly, stares His bones wouldn’t burn He suffered 16 years old, seventeen in a few months, he’ll grow. Live. Make sure he keeps living ⁃ Took midoriya to view the body before it was buried. Stared, said nothing -all might dusts of the grave, leaves a few flowers and food -still conflicted, butterfly was worse case scenario, uses it as motivation to protect his boy -he longs for some sign. Waits for some great vision that the boy is well in the end. A butterfly wing broken wings that still flies. One on the tombstone. It’s the dead of winter. Him coming to him in a dream, face full and bright and back bare of those fowl wings that shackled him to the earth, and promising him that he’s not in pain anymore. But it never comes. Butterfly died in agony, after years of torture, alone. -“Toshinori wasn’t a religious man, but he still hoped that, if something did become of young butterfly in the en`d, that he at least got to rest.” -he might be moving into the same new building as the Midoriyas -picks up Izuku from first therapy session, not much to say -you’re my boy aren’t you? -don’t want to say anything that makes him spiral further Do you remember what happened before this all started? -we talked about Superman, you said your name was inspired by all Star Superman -and... -rumors about being his son, “I don’t mind” -cry, hug and a kiss on top of his head -sixteen years old, he’s my son -return home -izuku stares out the window Take him to the tokoyaki stand Sit on the beach wall -cuddle like they did the night before butterfly attacked -izuku crawls up his sleeve and presses his forehead -yeah. Yeah you’re mine.

⁃ When Butterfly was around, he never had nightmares. Now that he’s dead, Izuku has nothing but. -izuku can’t sleep, -home doesn’t feel like home anymore -people died here, in this world, and the other one -has nightmares when he’s awake too, they’re memories -likes All Might’s thin arms, likes to be carried, better than those too big that held him like a pet while the bones in his back pulled away from the rest of his body. -checking himself in the mirror, scars on his chest fading fast, no evidence if he covers it up -asked the doctors to remove his scars when he went back to get his stitches out, just the ones from Butterfly, back to what he was before -regrets it -looked butterfly in the face, up close, in the eyes, and though: that’s not me. It can’t be -looks at himself now, his own face in the mirror, and thinks: that’s not me. It can’t be -too thick, skin to smooth, hand in his hair to search for antlers -I’m me, aren’t I? -text from friends, excited to have him back -compulsion to go outside, he does -it’s cold out without a shirt, starting to snow -I could just go -wants to run, from what? -doesn’t want to face the others How can he just go back to normal? -if i don’t say something now, i never will -wake up mom, I’m ready to talk about it now -sees all might in the kitchen again, mom too -visions of the other ones life

-Bakugou s body, swollen and broken -desperation to find a school that will take him -walk past the gates -sell blood -luxury apartment -All for one, first quirk are the cherub wings, small, but his -not the only one, testing multiple quirks, isn’t sure when he becomes the favorite -wings are painful coming in, all for one holds him -gave in eventually -can’t see all of the wings in the mirror, shine green in the light -lakies make fun of his failure, requests quirk to stop crying -creates copy of all for one -usj, something wrong, gets erasure -flees out the window, can’t get home, returns willingly -tested on with mutation quirks as punishment, cries when he discovers minor telekinesis -isn’t there for Kamino allegory, acts desperate to save Sensei, erases immortality quirk -tries to go home again, authorities mistake him for villain, programmed to attack -he finds Dad. Dad, who hadn’t so much as touched him in a decade, picks him up and holds him like its nothing. He kisses his head and calls him baby and tells him everything is going to be alright because he’s here now. And it was for a while. He fed him and bathed him. He sleeps tucked close to his chest like when he was little, even if the wings took up a lot of space. He has to comfort his father when he cries for mom, since he can’t cry anymore. He and takes him to the doctor. They don’t know how to help him. He says he wants everything but moms quirk to go. Dad doesn’t understand why he has it. He doesn’t listen. He never does. At least you aren’t quirkless anymore Steals dad’s quirk to teach him a lesson about being quirkless Dad only came back for mom. He said so. He was missing for over a year and only came back after mom went missing. He blames him. He burns off the tips of his wings. -they think he’s a villain -Kills mirio -trades quirks for money, later just food -chase anything related to mom -wanders to Jakku, ua goes there around this time of year and he saw an ad for a lodge that looked kind of like home -hears his own name -demands the bridge quirk guy trade him, had enough -kills. Jumps. Sees himself, up on a stage in a hero costume from his dreams, smiling among deafening cheers. And he shares his dread. -sees both of himself, locking eyes in the ambulance, round face, thin face, green eyes both, watching and feeling each other die

-run back inside -wake up mom and all might -i don’t think I’m me anymore -stuck with all this anger and hatred and fear -can’t tell the difference -all might says he feels guiltily instead of angry -but i am angry -writes as he talks -it’s like one glass of water being poured into another glass of water -hard to tell where the first ends and the second begins and you can’t separate them -did he take something from you -don’t know -“after all that, do you still think you made the right choice?” “Never came into question.” -has his whole life ahead of him -going to die eventually -takes out notebook -“Butterfly” crosses it out, rights his own name -lies between the two people who love him most -all might’s hand on his chest, holding him -other arm curling mini him to his chest -mom has his blankie -izuku has his all might plushie -tomorrow, he goes back to all his friends at the best hero school in the country -people like him, he has fans -almost too good to be true -this is all butterfly wanted -all i ever wanted -more than i could have ever asked for No one stalking me, no one chasing me -I’m home -do i deserve it though? -have to make decisions, could spiral -have to go back out into the world and keep living -for now, he let himself feel happy -the two sides agree to feel happy -“this is mine. This is me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” -and for now, I’ll let it make me happy -this is mine, this is me -deep under guilty happiness, lies dread he knew could only come from himself. -this dread could only be his own. Maybe it was always. -it’s mine. It’s me. -whoever i am, I’m alive -no matter what i do, whoever i am, I’m me. I’m me.

#butterfly #long post #writing #behold the process #and yes #all of my outlines are like this

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fullsunalicia · 5 years ago

Note

hiii! i just found your account and i’m so in love with everything you’ve written!!! can i request a johnny demigod au?

piece by piece — SYH

johnny would rather die than admit he’s not able to fix something. no matter what it is, he’s absolutely certain he can find a way to make it right. correct the clock’s tick. make the light bulb shine again. puzzle the pieces of your heart together. who else would, if not him?

son of hephaestus!johnny x daughter of dionysus!reader

of course you can! thank you for request love, i hope you enjoy! <3

Some people are born with a silver-spoon in their mouth. Johnny entered the world with mechanical tools and screwdrivers in his little hands. At least that’s what he keeps on telling others when they watch him build something.

He’s always had a knack for stuff like that. During experiments, it was always Johnny who got the thing up and working. He loves to create. There’s no better feeling than getting something to work again, like a broken clock, or a flickering light.

There’s only one exception. Johnny’s never tried to fix a heart before, but he’s willing to try.

A loud yelp escapes you as Johnny takes away the wine bottle you were clinging to. Is this your second or third one? Honestly, he doesn’t remember. He hasn’t been paying attention. The only thing that matters right now is getting you away from all the alcohol, and into a bed to sleep your rush off. Your eyes are stained red, rivalling those of a stoner. Your fix is free; it’s called ‘tears’. Truth be told, you’re an emotional mess, and everything spills over the second alcohol enters your bloodstream and chases away the deep-rooted pain inside your chest.

“You give that back right now, Seo.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he deadpans. The frat house is way too loud, overcrowded with people he’s never seen before, but you’re gonna have to deal with that if you’re going to sleep over tonight. Strong arms slide beneath your back and into the hollows of your knees, lifting you up as if you‘re the pound of feathers and not the pound of iron you feel like. It’s a familiar feeling, because Johnny always carries you to bed. It’s a tradition that’s slipped into your drunk habits aswell, since you tend to pass out in your intoxicated bliss instead of helping yourself to an appropiate sleeping place.

Johnny sets you down on a soft mattress, one you recognize too easily. His blankets are freshly washed, and you ignore the laughter falling from Johnny’s lips as you snuggle into them. You look like a toddler. “Aren’t you going to change, (y/n)?” he mumbles, fingertips brushing over your cheekbones. You’re like a sculpture - flawless marble, the perfect depiction of a Greek beauty. Venus de Milo is literally sprawled over his bed. Not many guys can say that. “That croptop must be kinda tight. Here, let me help you.”

“You think you’re funny?” you drawl out. Alcohol makes your tongue heavy, speaking is an effort. He’d never admit it out loud, but you’re rather adorable whenever you’ve had a sip too much. Johnny tucks you in, the soft, plushy blankets covering your entire body. Your eyes are already screwed shut. You’ve got a sharp tongue, but everybody knows how much you trust Johnny. More than anyone else in your life. He’s the one who looks past the drunk facade and sees the sorrow beneath it, the very same your father must have felt when Ariadne left him for eternity. Like an illness, your heart is rotting from an invisible wound, inflicted by someone who didn’t know how to treat you right.

Johnny would. He knows you deserve to be treated like a princess, not some prize. That’s why he broke that guy’s jaw with pure pleasure. The busted knuckles after that were beyond worth it, and the kiss you had left on them was just the cherry on top.

There’s nothing Johnny wouldn’t do for you. His head is filled with thoughts about you and you only, his entire existence revolves around protecting his tiny best friend. You’re his world, and Johnny’s the moon circling it. You just don’t know it yet. Maybe you don’t want him, reject him like Aphrodite did to his father. It doesn’t sound so bad when it means he can still baby you like this, fingers carding through your hair, listening to the appreciative hums you let out at that. When he lowers his head to sneak a kiss on your cheek, cheeky and daring, you don’t fulfill your threats to snap his neck. Drowsily, since you’re already slipping into slumber, you catch Johnny around the neck and pull him down to leave your own peck on his temple.

Whoever in Olymp is responsible for your behavior, whatever Fate had meddled with your creation - he’d sincerely like to thank them from the bottom of his heart for making you a clingy drunk.

Since the first day of college, Johnny has been taking care of you. He had helped you renovate your dorms since you are literally helpless when it comes to building cupboards and setting up some baseboards. Whenever you miss a lecture, you copy off his carefully written notes. And you can bet your sweet ass you’re the first one to take a sip of Johnny’s freshly brewed coffee. It’s not like he has it in himself to stop you - he’s the one who offers you the mug and scolds you for not taking care of yourself. He’s the one who wants to ease off some stress from your shoulders by helping you with your living quarters. He wants to make sure you get the correct notes so you don’t fail during an exam.

It’s only right he’s the one to solve the jigsaw puzzle that represents your heart.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Raise your hand if you think (y/n)’s an alcoholic.”

“Nakamoto, if you don’t shut up, I’ll seriously consider stuffing your mouth with a croissant.” Over the breakfast table, you throw an not-so-evil glare Yuta’s way, but the man only laughs and starts eating his cereal. You don’t really look threatening in your blanket cocoon; you had refused to part from them when Johnny had woken you up and dragged you out of his room. “Seo, put that hand down right now.”

“Lying is a sin, (y/n).” He catches the hand that tried to hit his chest, and you yelp loudly when he tugs you out of your safe space inside the blankets so you can sit on his lap. His frat brothers are staring, all of them aware about the feelings blossoming in Johnny’s chest for the alcoholic he managed to befriend. He doesn’t care, though. He’s too busy adoring the embarrassed blush on your cheeks, so distracted by the sight that he forgets you’re in attack mode. The flick to his forehead actually hurts. “Don’t make me throw you across the table, (y/n). You know I can do it.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you shoot back. Stubborn as always.

Johnny’s arm around your waist doesn’t seem to bother you. You actually continue your breakfast while he rests his head on your shoulder, lost in your natural fragrance. Of course you smell like grapes. The stench of alcohol. But he also picks up roses, the underlying notes of the perfume you had put on last night. According to you, he smells like burnt wood and oil. That doesn’t sound as pleasant as you do, but he’ll take what he can.

The gears are already set in motion. Without you knowing, Johnny plans to cure your broken heart. So when you set down the knife you used to cut open your croissant, Johnny asks you: “(y/n), wanna go on a date?”

You freeze on his lap. Your heartbeat thunders below his touch, like a clock ticking away. Hearts are nothing but clockwork, racing towards your death. The last hour of your life. Until your battery finally runs out. Johnny has a lot of mechanic jokes. “Excuse me? Are you still drunk?”

“You of all people are not allowed to ask me if I’m drunk.”

“Fair,” you mumble, almost offended. But the shock still lingers in your veins, painted on his friend’s face aswell. You turn in his hold to look Johnny in the eyes, the disbelief in yours driving a knife through his heart. “Is this a joke, Seo Youngho? I don’t particularly like to joke about this and you know that better than anyone else.”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking.” Johnny’s fingers tug at your shirt, desperate to feel what’s below. Is your skin as soft as it looks like? If he touches you here and there, what can he coax out of you? His thoughts run wild about you always; sometimes innocently, sometimes anything but. “I’m sick of watching you drink your problems away, (y/n). We all know you’ve gotten over him, you’re just afraid of facing the consequences of what he’s done to you. Let me help you. I can fix this.”

Your eyes are hypnotizing. Maybe this is what it looks like when maenads possess their victims, luring them in with the promise of a good time and better alcohol. You don’t offer him intoxication - you offer Johnny the entire galaxy, every solar system locked into your gaze, a kaleidoscope of human memories, desire, love. One look would make any man lightheaded.

Children of Hephaestus are fireproof. They’re supposed to be blacksmiths, working at any temperature. Only you manage to leave scorch markings where your fingertips meet his face, uncomfortably hot, and still irresistible. Second degree burns don’t sound so bad when you’re the one inflicting them.

“You can’t fix everything, Johnny,” you tell him. The sadness clinging to your voice is centuries old, older than time itself, the common tale of a heart broken that’s never going to be whole again. “No matter how hard you try.”

Johnny clings to you like a drowning man would to his life ring. “You wouldn’t know. You never let me try.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny doesn’t know where you start and he ends. Your relationship is blurred lines, interwoven red strings. There are pieces you’ve been given by him to make you complete, and parts you’ve given away to fulfill him. You give and give and give, never once thinking if it’s going to break you.

That’s why it’s so easy to love Johnny. A very long time ago, you’d already promised him your heart, long before it had been darkened by strangers who never learnt how to treat it. It’s his, in every sense of the word. Over the years, it has been fed with happy things. Johnny’s smile. The pride you feel whenever he wins an award for his experiments and ideas. The giddy feeling he sets off inside you when he lifts you off the ground to twirl you around like a princess. The many nights you used to stay up to listen to him and count the stars, naming them after you while you fell asleep to the sound of Johnny’s pulse. How could your heart belong to someone else, when it’s never known anyone besides him?

As long as there’s a beat inside your heart, there will be love, too. In the many thousand shards that pierce through your lungs and are barely hidden beneath your skin, affection will always pool beneath the blood they draw. You were so suspicious of Johnny’s attempts, yet it comes so easy.

He takes you out to see the city, even though you know every corner of it. Johnny forces you to see it with new eyes, to chase away the bad experiences you connect them with. The park where you had been broken up with turns into the place where Johnny teaches you to skate, arms tight around your waist, the promise of no harm ever coming to you if he can prevent it luring you to try. The many restaurants you had started to avoid because of the couples dining there had turned into date nights where Johnny orders for you and you in turn for him, laughing at the grimace the other pulls when it doesn’t taste as expected. He takes your memories and flips them, good side up.

Your lungs had been poisoned with toxins for a very long time. Johnny was the clean air that helped you breathe. What had once been pain turned into newfound happiness, the flutter of butterflies inside your stomach. The exploding fireworks Johnny sets off when his lips meet your skin.

Where alcohol had once mended was now pure fire. Johnny’s fire, burning you from the inside out, setting you free like a phoenix out of his ashes.

You should’ve known better than to trust this good feeling. A year’s worth of pain is not erased so easily. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Doubt eats away at your heart, casting long shadows of the healing pieces.

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny hates the theoretical part of his studies. His hands itch to work, to forge, to create. They can’t sit still, and that’s why it takes him hours to finish his assignments. If there’s not the impending doom of an exam lingering inside his mind, there’s no reason for him to sit unmoving on a chair for several hours to concentrate on the task at hand.

But time is running out, and he has to finish this now. He had already slept for the entire day, having eaten breakfast at 3pm since another frat party had kept him awake yesterday. Yeah, he should’ve laid off the alcohol, but you go ahead and try to tell Sicheng no when he begs you to come play beer pong.

That’s physically impossible. There’s not a single soul on this planet that’s able to resist Sicheng’s puppy dog eyes, and he knows. Monster.

That’s why Johnny sits here now. He has to force his short attention span to cling to the paper he’s supposed to be writing on, since he knows damn well he’d grasp at any chance to procrastinate. His thoughts wander to you, like always. His sweet (y/n). The raging alcoholic.

Or, how he likes to call you, his princess.

The petname colors your cheeks red and makes you lower your pretty eyes. His imagination is too vivid - Johnny groans loudly as you conquer his mind again, determined to stay there forever. Daydreams are always conjured by the wish of seeing you. Johnny is so unbelievably whipped.

He’s already decided. The next time he sees you, he’s going to ask you to be his girlfriend. To be his for as long as he exists, and in turn being yours forever. In a room full of people, Johnny’s eyes would still search for you. Who else would he love for the rest of his life if not you?

Maybe he’ll never get to.

The door to his room is thrown open rather loudly. Yuta tumbles in, yawn leaving his lips, before the man freezes in his movements and stares at Johnny. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“This is my room, you know.”

“I know this is your room, you giant idiot,” Yuta hisses. Johnny furrows his eyebrows; had he done something wrong...? What’s gotten the man so worked up? “I’m asking you why you’re here instead of the date you promised your almost-girlfriend who you’ve been in love with your entire life!”

Johnny’s heart drops. It falls and falls into that pit of dread inside his stomach, just like pencil and ruler as he throws it onto the table and grabs his jacket. He almost tumbles down the stairs and breaks his neck, but that’d be worth it if it meant reaching you faster. Taeil yells at him to be more careful, though his words only meet deaf ears. Johnny’s already long gone, bursting through the door as he starts running and prays it’s enough to reach you in time.

You’re not there.

He wonders how he can call himself a son of Hephaestus when he cannot even stop his own heart from shattering at the realization that he may have lost you forever. It would’ve been your anniversary with your ex boyfriend today, and Johnny realizes only now.

If only his father could see him like this. He’d cast him off Olympus, a perfect mimic of what Hera had done thousands of years ago. It’s what Johnny would have deserved.

❀ ❀ ❀

The many messages he leaves on your voicemail remain unanswered. He knocks at your dorm often, but you never open, not a rustle is heard inside. Like a graveyard, there’s only the sound of the wind breezing through your apartment, no sign of life. Your phone doesn’t ring when he calls you from outside the dorm, as if you’re not there. Not home.

Nowhere near him.

Back to square one, Johnny loves you from a distance. His tears soak the blankets you used to lull yourself in, and he spends hours locked inside his room listening to the playlist you created.

In a morbid sense of longing, he even bought that type of vodka you like so much. The one that tastes like peppermint and makes him want to retch, even though you’re able to swallow it up like water. He’s always known you were an alcoholic. For once, Johnny wishes you were here, getting drunk alongside him.

No matter how much the liquor numbs his senses, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about you. Like a broken record, Johnny always ends up wondering how you are. If you feel a little better, even though Johnny stood you up.

Every night, he asks the stars for you. They never respond.

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny doesn’t know what he’s doing here. There’s no sense to knocking at your door - you’d die before opening it willingly. After all, you had opened your heart to him, and look where that had gotten you.

He almost passes out in relief when your face appears in the doorway, tear tracks staining your face. “Have you come to torture me more?” you whisper, too afraid of your voice breaking. If you can’t even stop your heart from doing it, you’d like to atleast beware your voice. “Go ahead. Let’s see what kills me first, my broken heart or alcohol.”

“(y/n),” he breathes out, and the pain in his voice makes you flinch. It matches the one sitting in your chest, an exact replica. Distance wounded you both. “(y/n), I am the stupidest man alive and I am so sorry I left you standing in the rain back then. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“I’d like to know that, too,” you mumble. Your voice is bitter, but your hands reach to hold his. Is he imagining things, or are you actually tugging him inside right now? Is it wishful thinking? Is that it?

Your apartment looks like a mess, as always. A perfect mirror to your mind. Johnny used to tease you about it. Now, it just makes him feel worse, because he did that to you. “I need to say it,” he suddenly says. “I need you to know.”

“To know what?”

“I love you.”

The three magic words. Instant remedy to any kind of wound, no matter how old, no matter how deadly. You confuse Johnny by laughing, fresh tears running over the old traces on your cheeks.

“I know.” You tug at his shirt and force him down; your scent floods Johnny’s senses when you press your face against the column of his neck. Now you’re home. Right where you’re supposed to be. “Who the else would be patient enough to fix me? I’m a big, fat mess. I should’ve waited for you that day...”

“You should have beat my fucking ass,” Johnny curses, and then he finally kisses you. Like fire, his kiss devours, rampant heat frying your senses and jumpstarting your tired heart. The kiss is way too messy, teeth knocking against each other in a frenzy. This is what you needed - the undying, pure love Johnny provides you with. It’s what you’ve been longing for since the first time you set eyes on him, the very first time his puzzle pieces clicked into place inside you.

Johnny’s never tried to fix a heart before, but he’s also the one who knows yours inside out. It’s only right that he’s the one who puts it together piece by piece.

#idk if i like this #but here it is’#seo youngho #seo johnny #johnny suh #nct 127 #seo youngho x reader #seo johnny x reader #johnny suh x reader #nct 127 x reader #seo youngho fluff #seo johnny fluff #johnny suh fluff #nct 127 fluff #seo youngho scenarios #seo johnny scenarios #johnny suh scenarios

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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[Night had already fallen by the time Charlie and Carewyn returned to school. Charlie led Carewyn upstairs, down the third floor hallway of the East Tower to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at the far end.

Sure enough, when the two “Fireballs” entered, standing at the head of the classroom was Bill Weasley. He was dressed in a second-hand but well-cared-for slate gray suit and a black collared shirt, and his hair, as ginger red as Charlie’s, had grown an inch or so since his graduation.

Bill’s brown eyes lit up at the sight of Charlie and Carewyn. Carewyn skipped across the room -- Bill met her half-way, opening his arms and bending down slightly so she could wrap her arms around his neck in a hug. With a soft, almost mischievous laugh, Bill straightened up, making Carewyn give a strangled yelp when he lifted her right up off the ground. Then she burst into giggles, and Bill chuckled too as he gave her a big squeeze.]

Bill: “Aw, Carey, it’s so good to see you.”

“(through a big grin) Are you growing your hair out?”

Bill: “(lightly) A bit, yeah. Wonder if I should try to go for a ponytail like yours or Charlie’s -- maybe get a piercing or two.”

“How dashing.”

[She giggled again as Bill lowered her back down to the ground and the two finally released each other. Charlie came up and gave Bill a big hug too -- both boys clapped each other on the back before breaking apart.]

Bill: “It’s great to see you both. Letters are nice and all, but being here in person’s just that that bit better, right?”

“I know. Though it was great, reading about your Cursebreaking work -- your assignment in Slovakia, at the old Bathory Castle? Amazing!”

Bill: “(grinning) Gotta thank you for the cursebreaking books you bought me -- I wouldn’t have even tried examining that knife without reading up on cursed gems beforehand.”

[His eyes softened upon Carewyn’s face.]

Bill: “Cursebreaking’s been brilliant...but I’ve really missed you. Missed Hogwarts...”

[He then frowned slightly.]

Bill: “Gotta say, though, Carey -- you don’t seem very surprised to see me.”

“Charlie told me you were coming to visit tonight.”

[Bill whirled on his brother.]

Bill: “(groaning) I tried to act surprised!”

Charlie: “‘Act’ is a strong word.”

[Carewyn burst into giggles at the two brothers’ bickering, covering her mouth with her hand to try to contain her amusement.]

“Bill, don’t worry about it. I’m glad Charlie told me.”

After how awful a day I’ve had...I needed some good news.

[Charlie smiled, his gaze shifting from Carewyn to Bill and back.]

Charlie: “At least I didn’t tell Carey why you’re here -- mostly because I don’t know either, but still...”

[Carewyn looked up as she heard the class room open.

In came Penny, Rowan, and Barnaby. A moment later, another clump of people -- Tonks, Tulip, Diego, and Andre -- sidled in.

Bill grinned broadly.]

Bill: “Don’t worry -- you’re about to find out.”

~*~

[Once all of the sixth year students had arrived, they stood together in a group in front of the rows of desks, facing Bill at the head of the class.]

Ben: “I don’t waste time wondering anymore -- I just take action.”

You could do with some wondering. And other types of thinking too, quite frankly.

[Rather than say this aloud, Carewyn merely pursed her lips sourly.]

Tonks: “(taken aback) Blimey, Ben! When did you get so interesting?”

Penny: “(disapproving) ‘Interesting’ isn’t how I’d put it...”

[Bill cleared his throat in a business-like way to regain everyone’s attention.]

Bill: “As I was saying -- Charlie told me your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is....particularly useless this year...”

[Ismelda gave a snort.]

Ismelda: “That’s putting it mildly.”

[For once, Carewyn agreed with her.

This year the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had been filled by a hot-shot, up-and-coming “Defense expert” named Huxley Meyers. Although many Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in previous years had merely been old and dull, rather akin to Professor Binns, Professor Meyers clearly was much more interested in puffing himself up than actually teaching his class anything. In his first two classes, he’d had the students pair off and duel each other with no set guidelines or instruction and then strolled around the room, picking apart their technique and vaguely going on and on about what he would’ve done better.

“‘Flipendo,’” he’d scoff. “Is that what you all have been learning? Come on. Shoot out something more dangerous sometime, Copper. You’re going to let a ginger runt like that overpower you, Lee? Pummel ‘im!”

There was also a clear difference in how he spoke to the boys in the class versus the girls. With the boys, he’d often try to goad them into attacking their opponents more aggressively -- with the girls, he’d throw out random snide remarks and then played them off as being just “jokes” if anyone took offense to them.

“Spread your feet, Miss Murk, they’re much too close together -- rather like your eyes,” he’d say with a cheeky smile. “Miss Karasu, what’s with that wand grip? More gently now -- don’t reckon your folks would much like to hear about bad marks, eh? Hahaha...oh, don’t worry -- you lot know I wouldn’t write to them about something like that, lighten up...”

Carewyn herself had strangely found herself victim to both behaviors. In both classes, Meyers had paired Carewyn with several of her male classmates in an attempt to get her to really go at it, but when she’d refused to inflict any lasting damage on her friends, he’d ended up tearing into her for it, mockingly calling her “the little princess.” The condescension wasn’t unlike how Snape spoke to his classes, but at least Snape actually taught them useful material -- Meyers, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in tearing down his class than actually giving them tools to hone their skills.]

Even if Rakepick was a lying snake, at least she taught us stuff. This guy is just a joke.

[Bill glanced at Ismelda out the side of his eye, his mouth twitching with disapproval, but it was clear he was much more cross about what he’d heard about Meyers than Ismelda having interrupted him.]

Bill: “Mm-hmm. Well, given the circumstances...and how important it is that you lot be able to defend yourselves, given everything that happened last year...I decided to volunteer my services. I can’t replace your teacher -- “

[For a second he severely looked like he wanted to add “however much I’d like to,” but thought better of it.]

Bill: “ -- but when I have downtime between my Gringotts cursebreaking missions, I’ll be visiting Hogwarts to teach you new defensive spells.”

[His face then grew a bit more solemn.]

Bill: “This tutoring will be informal and optional -- you can opt out if you want. But if and when Rakepick or any of her lot return...I want to make sure you all are as prepared as you can be -- and since your current professor seems to be no help in that, I figure I at least can be. If you decide to stay, of course.”

[He waited for anyone to leave -- but as Carewyn had predicted, nobody moved.

Bill caught Carewyn’s eye and she beamed proudly at him. Bill’s face broke out into a grin.]

((OOC: BILL, MY DEAR, MY CURSEBREAKING BOY! How I love thee! *huggles Bill plushie*

Huxley Meyers is completely original to me, being inspired by both my absolute worst teacher from grade school and a rather unpleasant ex-roommate. I personally see him having friendly connections to Carewyn’s maternal family, the Cromwells, and maybe R as well, depending on what else we learn about them -- either way, yeah, he’s a creep. Still trying to pin down a fancast for the bugger so I can draw him properly. I knew I had to create at least one DADA teacher OC for this game, though -- I’m sorry, but the books always had such interestingly diverse candidates for the position, and after Rakepick, it’s good to explore the downgrade. >>

Whew, I need to get caught up on roleplaying posts for this Weasley brothers chapter so I can start working on posts for THIS --

Squeeeeeeeeee~!!!!! X3333))

#carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #hphm #hogwarts mystery #gameplay #roleplaying #my art #bill weasley #charlie weasley #ismelda murk #ben copper #nymphadora tonks #penny haywood #huxley meyers

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bleepblopbloop56 · 5 years ago

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The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 6: Blood and Tears

Warnings:abusive deceit, murder mention, throwing up, some stalker-like things

Specail thanks to @pathos-logical this fic is litterally our baby im not even kidding, weve both poured alot into this.

Also on ao3

"Logan? Logan, slow down- what are you saying?" Emile had just put Patton to bed after a long day of playing in the park, eating more ice cream than Logan probably would've allowed, and binging cartoons. As long as you kept Patton nearly constantly busy, he wouldn't cry for his dada too often, and overall it seemed like he was having fun. He knew Logan took being separated from Patton about as well as Patton did, so he hadn’t been surprised from the call that came almost as soon as Patton had gone to sleep. He’d expected for Logan to immediately ask about how Patton was doing when he picked up, but instead he'd been greeted with nearly incoherent panic from his brother.

"Logan- Logan, you're scaring me," he cut in, knowing it would get Logan to stop speaking. "Deep breaths, and when you can talk, start again,” he said firmly, not giving him a chance to try to continue. He heard an audible gulp of air over the line. Emile could instinctively tell Logan was still panicking, but there was barely a pause as Logan started to talk again.

"Virgil," Logan choked out "He- he's been murdered, I… I need you to keep Patton for a while longer." He forcefully kept his breathing as steadily as he could, hands shaking. He was standing in the hallway to his apartment, trying to rationalize what he’d seen there.

At first he’d almost thought it was some sick prank, simply because Virgil didn't look like the others did. The first two victims had been stabbed repeatedly in the chest, the crime scenes left a blood-splattered, sickening sight. But Virgil would seem to be merely asleep if it weren’t for the blood trickling from his throat onto Logan's pillow. It wasn't until he had checked for Virgil’s pulse for the fourth time and found nothing there he’d believed he was gone. Touching a body before pictures were taken and a medical examiner was in sight was a big no-no, but he didn't care about any of that.

"Murdered?" Picani gasped, stepping into his own room away from Patton resting on the couch. "Logan, are you okay?”

Logan rarely took deaths this hard- he had become desensitized after seeing so much of it in his profession. And yet these three murders had stripped away his usual professional sense of detachment from him. Like they hit too close to home to keep a straight face.

Logan sunk to the ground, voice shuddering. "Emile, what would've happened if you didn't take Patton away? What if he was in the house, or if I picked him up from daycare before I came home?" He was rambling now, clutching the phone with both hands to keep it steady. A police officer walked by, and Logan kept his eyes on the ground.

"That didn't happen, Logan. He's safe, he's here with me," Emile said softly. He had known Virgil well, but now wasn't the time to break down in front of his little brother.

"Will you check?" Logan whispered. It was irrational, he knew that Emile would never lie to him and that his kid was safe and sound, but…

Emile paused for a second before softening. "Of course I will, Logan," he whispered, strolling into the living room and looking at the sleeping child snuggling a Tweety Bird plushie nearly as big as he was on Logan’s spare crib. "He's safe, Logan. Everything's going to be fine."

Logan wanted to say "no it's not," he wanted to say "I haven't heard from Roman in two days and I don't know if he's safe," he wanted to say his life was rapidly dissolving into a bloodbath of innocent lives who had nothing to do with any of the pain and suffering this murderer was causing. But he just stayed silent, sniffling and trying to keep his breathing even.

"I know," he said finally, nodding despite knowing Emile couldn't see him. Remy stuck his head out into the hallway, motioning for him to come in the room before popping back through the doorway. "Emile, I need to go… Tell Patton I love him when he gets up, okay?"

It wasn't that Roman didn't want to return any of Logan's calls, it was that he couldn't. Successively losing his friend and then his brother, so quickly and in such a gruesome way to boot, had left him practically incapable of leaving bed. He had rented a room in some shitty hotel to avoid having to move in with anyone again, although with his luck whoever the murderer was would just burn down the entire fucking hotel after locking all the doors.

Roman couldn't stop feeling like it was all his fault, and he guessed it was in a way. Someone was after him. He only wished that they'd just kill him and be done with it, not grossly terrorize his friends and family.

He wished Logan was here. He knew he'd come if he was asked, but he didn't want to make him a target… Roman wished things were back like they used to be. The days when he was the only person who could get Logan to dance around the bedroom in boxers and a t-shirt, music from his phone blaring some slow song Logan didn't recognize. The days he'd sleep over at Logan's and laugh off the glares from his roommate about their lack of shirts. He missed the times like snowball fights outside the apartment and how the snow would get stuck in Logan’s hair and complement the flush on his face.

Roman missed the days before the young man with a scar on his face had tempted him away with the promise of money and love and the perfect life, before Ethan had convinced Roman to leave Logan for him. He'd phrased it like forbidden love, Romeo and Juliet, when really all it was was the biggest mistake of his life.

He'd tried, he really had, to make it work with Dee. He'd accepted his early proposal. He'd done everything he once did with Logan with Dee and ignored the ache in his heart. Ignored the blackmailing and threats Dee would spit any time he so much as thought about Logan. Ignored how Dee had told Roman to quit his job, to stop talking his to friends, to focus on him and him alone…

His phone buzzed again. It was probably another message from Logan asking where he was.

He pulled himself up by the headboard and grabbed the half-empty water bottle on the nightstand, chugging it all and tossing it on the floor. He glanced over at his phone just in time to see 3 new messages flashing before fading into darkness.

Logan: Where are you? How are you feeling after all of this? I know this must be hard on you.

Logan: Roman? I would appreciate a response soon. Now is not the time to be "playing hard to get," as Remy says.

Logan: Roman, although a text might not be the best way to figuratively "break the news," it seems my roomate Virgil has become the next victim… Please call me when you are able.

Roman felt his bottom lip begin to tremble. Even locking himself away from everyone wouldn't keep them safe. He felt like his entire chest was caving in on himself, that awful feeling of being so anxious and scared he needed to puke rising in his stomach and chest.

He dropped his phone and ran to the bathroom, nearly bruising his knees as he collapsed in front of the toilet. But the nausea would only come back stronger when Roman saw the next messages he'd just received.

Dee😘😘: *sent a photo*

Dee😘😘: uh oh! :(

When Roman clicked the notifications with trembling fingers, a photo of Roman and Logan kissing against Logan's car would light up his screen, the bad angle and quality unable to hide how Logan's hands were under Roman's shirt and how Roman was pulling Logan's face into his…

And Roman's stomach would sink, all the pieces slotting together into one, horrible, picture.

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality @nonbeenary-enbee @imbasicallyshakespear @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @incoherentfangirl @oofmood @nonbianary-pineapple @royalnerd829 @unicornlogansanders

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #the murder in the dressing room #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #emile picani #muder #deceit sanders #ts deceit #villain deceit #abusive deceit #logince

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averagemarvelbitch · 6 years ago

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The One With The Red Sweater - Part 2

The one where Steve and Tony are celebrating their one year anniversary, Bucky has a big mouth (and regrets it) and everything goes wrong.

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

Chapters: 2/2

AO3

Tagging because I thought you guys might like to read the second part! @barnesbuchananjamie @instantlyshadowen @stonyverse @iron-captain

Tony stayed the next three days at home. Fooling Jarvis was rather easy. He only had to tell the butler he felt really sick and with his red eyes and runny nose (from all the crying) it was an easy sell. Jarvis did look a bit suspicious, but said nothing, and let Tony stay at home for as long as he needed.

Tony knew he had to go to school sometime. He couldn’t avoid Steve, and everyone else, forever. But he was so embarrassed. God, why did he have to tell his friends all those things about not ever being chosen? Now they knew how he felt AND they knew Steve had never really liked Tony, he was just being polite, like always. And oh god, the dates. They dated for a year. They kissed, they cuddled. Had Steve been uncomfortable in all this situations? Had Tony forced himself on Steve without knowing he wasn’t welcome? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, he thought groaning loudly and hiding his head under the pillow once more.

His cell phone didn’t stop ringing for one minute. Some calls from Pepper, some from Rhodey and Nat and Sharon, and about a million calls from Steve. Tony ignored all of them. At one point, he sent a simple text to all his friends (except Steve because he was still mad at him) saying he didn’t want to talk about it and turned off his phone. After that, Steve started calling his home. He called almost every hour and every time Jarvis or Ana would pick it up. They would come to Tony’s room and every time the brunette would shake his head and turn around, leaving the butler and his wife to make some excuses.

When Steve finally realized the phone calls wouldn’t work, he started sending other things. On Friday, he sent flowers with a note. I’m sorry, please, let me explain. I love you. All they did was remind Tony of the fact that Steve wanted Sharon, not him. He threw both of them away.

On Saturday, Steve sent a small robot plushie with another note. You mean everything to me. Please, forgive me. I love you. Tony threw away the note and gave the plushie to DUM-E, who happily took it to his charging station and kept it there.

On Sunday, nothing came. No phone call, no gift, no note, nothing. Maybe Steve had finally given up, realized Tony wasn’t worth the hassle and it was better to just take this opportunity to get out of the relationship he never even wanted in the first place. Tony was fine with that. He was fine.

On Monday morning, he got dressed and turned on his cell phone. He sent Rhodey a text, asking for a ride. His best friend promptly answered on my way. Tony took a deep breath, trying to get himself ready to face the day, and walked down the stairs, straight to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

Jarvis and Ana watched, in silence, as he ate some toast and drank some coffee. He could tell they wanted to say something, but were holding themselves back.

“Just say it. Come on”, he huffed, putting his coffee down.

“He told us what happened, dear. I’m very sorry”.

“Indeed we are, master Anthony. But… Perhaps we could give you something to think about?”

Tony nodded, nibbling at his toast.

“You see, master Anthony. Some people are able to choose exactly who they are going to love. Like your mother. She saw your father at a benefit and decided that was the man she was going to marry”.

“Yeah. Bad choice”.

Jarvis wrinkled his nose, as if trying to stop himself from agreeing. “Maybe so, master Anthony, but she made her choice. Other people, like Mrs. Jarvis and myself, are victims of fate”.

“What do you mean?”

“Objectively speaking, there was no reason why Mrs. Jarvis and I should meet. A war was raging outside and I was merely a soldier, unable to afford even a drink at the hotel she worked. But fate intervened”.

“That’s right. The general, who never ate anything other than meat and potatoes, that very night decided to try some local cuisine. He spent the night throwing up and called Mr. Jarvis for help. I was tasked with cleaning up the room. And that’s how we met. Fate”.

“And then you stole a letter of transit and was almost court martialed for her”, Tony replied, grinning.

Jarvis cleared his throat and took Tony’s plate. “Well, some people are worth committing a crime for, master Anthony”, he said, earning himself a kiss on the cheek from his wife.

“So, what you’re saying is Steve and I were meant to be?”

“All I’m saying, master Anthony, is that Mrs. Jarvis and I believe that some people are destined to meet. And sometimes, when people are being stubborn, or clueless, or when the world decides to make it difficult, fate intervenes and puts those people on each other’s paths. What happens after that, well, it is up to them, isn’t it?”

“But… He didn’t want me, Jarvis. He wanted Sharon”.

“Perhaps, in the beginning, master Rogers had a different idea of what love could be. Maybe, before you showed up, love had the face and shape of Miss Carter. And perhaps, when fate put you in his path, he realized love was much different from what he believed it to be”.

“Yeah, but he still didn’t choose me”.

“My dear boy”, Jarvis said with a smile, “He chose you every time he came over to watch, yet again, those silly space movies you love so much. He chose you every time he comforted you after a fight with your father. He chose you when he introduced you to his mother, his only family in this world, as his boyfriend. He chose you when he gave up a scholarship at another school only because he could not bear to be parted from you”.

“How do you know about that?”

“We’re the help, dear. The help knows everything”, Ana said, laughing softly.

“He may not have chosen you at first, Anthony. But he chose you again and again and again for a year. And he kept on choosing you every time he called this house, heartbroken and desperate, and every time he sent a gift with what I can only assume were very remorseful notes. You made each other happy, Anthony. Perhaps you ought to give the young man a chance to prove his love to you”.

Tony didn’t have time to answer. The Imperial March started playing, a sign that Rhodey was waiting for him outside. He smiled at Jarvis and Ana, his way of saying thank you for the talk, thank you for being so good to me, thank you for always looking out for me, and left.

The car ride wasn’t exactly fun. Sharon had spent half of it apologizing to Tony and assuring him she had no interest in Steve (which was fairly obvious since she was dating Pepper). Tony, then, put her mind to rest, saying he didn’t blame her at all and that she had nothing to worry about. They’d been friends since they were in diapers and nothing would change that. That’s when Sharon started sniffing and touching the corner of her eyes, trying to hide the tears.

“Are you crying?”

“No, I have allergies, your cologne is gross”.

The moment they arrived at school, Tony knew something was wrong. He walked in with his friends right behind him and noticed how everybody kept glancing at him. Great, everybody knows what a huge loser I am, he thought, frowning. And that’s when he saw it. A huge piece of paper on the message board that almost took half of it.

I fell in love with you when you came to my games to cheer me on even though you hate football ― yes, Tony, I know you hate football.

Right under the saying was a drawing of a football field with many players. On the side, there was a small brunette cheering and, beside him, a robot (who looked very much like DUM-E) holding a sign that said “Go Team”. Tony smiled.

“Uh, Tones? There’s more of that”.

Tony turned and looked to where Rhodey was pointing. Indeed, the corridor was full of posters with phrases and little drawings. He started walking, slowly, stopping at every single one.

I fell in love with you when we watched Star Wars and I looked at you and you were so excited and so happy it made my heart burst.

A drawing of two figures, a blond and a brunette, pointing at the many spaceships that flew around the paper.

I fell in love with you when you spent five days with me in the ER because my ma was sick ― and you stayed even though they have terrible coffee.

This time, a drawing of a small brunette figure making a face at a cup of coffee while holding hands with the blond little man.

I feel in love with you every time you smiled, every time you laughed.

This one had a very realistic drawing of Tony smiling. It was beautiful. Is that how Steve sees me?, he thought with tears in his eyes.

The posters covered all of the corridor.

… when you introduced me to DUM-E…

… from the first time you called me sweetheart…

… when I was sick and you made me soup ― even thought you burned it…

… every time you called me to tell me about your day…

Tony read every single one of them with a small smile on his face, completely ignoring everyone else who just stood there, watching him. He finally got to the last one.

I fell in love with you the day you kissed me under the bleachers. I was just too stupid to actually notice.

Suddenly, Steve was there, holding flowers and looking very nervous.

“Hi”.

“Hi”, Tony replied, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you. It’s just that… After you kissed me and you told me we should grab a burger, I thought, okay, I’ll tell him the truth at the diner and… I didn’t. Because that day I had the best time of my life. You were funny, and smart, and gorgeous, and damn it, Tony, I was terrified that if I told you, you wouldn’t want to see me ever again. So I didn’t. And I should have. I’m sorry”.

Tony smiled and nodded, taking the flowers. But Steve continued.

“I know you think I didn’t choose you. But, you know, ma used to tell me that sometimes we’re too blinded by the world to actually see what’s right in front of us. So sometimes fate helps. And I think it really was fate who made you cold enough to steal Sharon’s sweater. Because, honestly? I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. And I thank fate everyday for knowing better than I did. I may not have chosen you that day, Tony, but I swear I’m gonna choose you every day for the rest of my life. Because I love you. I really do. Can you please give me another chance?”

Tony smiled and, instead of using words, just pulled Steve down for a kiss, holding him tight and letting himself be held by him. The people near them started laughing, and cat whistling and clapping. But suddenly, all the noise stopped and the couple heard someone clearing the throats forcefully. They interrupted the kiss, looking for the source.

Vice-Principle Coulson had what seemed to be the ghost of a smile on his lips. “No kissing in the corridors”.

“Oh, come on, you heard the speech”, Bucky complained from the other side of the crowd.

Coulson huffed, shaking his head. “One more kiss only in the corridor, Stark, Rogers. And keep it PG-13. This is not some teen movie High School. This isn’t Hannah Montana”.

“Wait, Coulson watches Hannah Montana?” Steve whispered and Tony tried to swallow a laugh.

But Coulson had, apparently, heard him. “She is a normal teenager by day and an internationally famous singer by night. She’s Batman. What’s not to like?”

While everyone laughed, Coulson shooed the others. Steve smiled down at Tony.

“I’m really happy you forgive me, Tony”.

Tony smiled. “I had no other choice”, he said, and when Steve shot him a confused look, he replied, “Who am I to go against fate, right?”

#part two #stevetony #stony #fanfic #high school au #no powers au #send me an ask or leave a comment if you liked it :D

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mingmingexpress · 7 years ago

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Kang Daniel | Haunted House

Rating: PG-13 (for slightly vulgar language and disturbing imagery)

Word Count: 2,104

A/N: @deepdickdaniel suggested to me a while ago that I should try writing my own fanfics, and as you can clearly see, I’ve decided to take her up on her offer. I initially said this was specifically something for her to enjoy, but the more I typed, the more I realized this was actually for my self-indulgence. Either way, I hope you guys enjoy!

You hated haunted houses. Preying on your fear of the unknown. Terrors hiding in every corner. You just couldn’t understand how people could be so willing to subject themselves to such things. Masochists, you called them.

Yet here you were, visiting your local carnival with a group of friends, the very last stop being the haunted house attraction that’s opened up for the month of October. Why exactly did you agree to this?

Oh, that’s right. Your stupid pride. A couple weeks earlier, you and a “friend”—you doubt you can really call them that, considering they made you do this—made a bet to sit through what the Internet called “the most horrifying fright fest in the state”. If you won, they’d be your personal servant for a day; if they won… well, they’d simply be content with the knowledge that you weren’t as tough as you made yourself look.

Honestly, the bet was too good to pass up anyway. Forget having your timidity lorded over for eternity, that’s beside the point. Your best friend, in a stroke of luck, had won tickets to a concert for a group you’ve been dying to see in person, and while they’ve begged to take you along (and not their insanely embarrassing mother), you’ve remained hesitant since you were tasked of babysitting your younger sibling on the same night.

Maybe this was a sign, you told yourself. It was meant to be! Regardless, you were getting increasingly tired with these unfounded claims you were, as they so charmingly worded, “a chicken.”

So back to the present. You’d started the afternoon off with some booths: shooting water into moving targets, throwing rings onto glass bottles. Heck, your skills managed to snag you a gigantic plushie of a dog—the person manning the place insisted it was a Samoyed. You then proceeded to race your friends on a go-kart track, barely managing to finish third. Wonderful. Everything seemed to be going well.

“Is something wrong?” Suddenly, you’re snapped back into reality. You look around, quickly realizing the voice belongs to Daniel. “You haven’t had a bite since we sat down.” You look back down at your food. He wasn’t joking. Your burger, along with a side of fries, remains untouched, your hands balled tightly on your lap. You barely even register it’s already lunchtime.

Daniel rests his head on his palm, looking at you concernedly. “Are you still worked up about this bet?” he asks, moving his other hand to your shoulder. Being the worrywart you are, you’d gushed to him over the phone a few nights prior about how much you were secretly dreading going to a haunted house. That entire conversation, he stayed silent, only making the occasional noise to assure you he was listening.

“I can come with you if you want,” he said after your rant was over.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do something like that,” you protested. “Besides, they’d make it look like I brought you along because I was scared.”

“Don’t be silly. A plus one you were allowed, so a plus one you shall bring. Besides”—he paused, as if to find the right words—“whatever troubles you may have, I want to be with you 100%.”

Suffice it to say, your heart melted that night. And so, you brought him along, praying that his presence would help tide you over.

“I’d be faring a lot worse if you weren’t around,” you admit. “Maybe it’s because of my baby sibling, I don’t know, but I always try to be brave wherever I go.” You let out a long sigh as you loosely play with one of your fries. “I’m being really stupid, but—”

“Stop that,” Daniel barks, quickly taking your hands in his. “You aren’t being stupid. Putting on this tough face, it just shows how much you want to be able to protect others.” You look into his eyes. They shine with so much sincerity. “If that’s not inspiring, then I don’t know what is. And hey, if you ever feel vulnerable”—laying your hands back down, he gently caresses your cheek—“just remember you have me.” God, you are so lucky to have this man. If you weren’t out with him in public, you probably would’ve squealed your head off.

With your fears moderately assuaged, you and Daniel spend the next several minutes feeding each other your food. You can faintly hear your friends pretending to throw up behind you, but you’re simply too happy to care.

“Alright, everyone!” someone eventually exclaims as you and your friends finish up. “We’re all filled up, the sun’s setting, what better way to end the day than with some scares.”

You gulp. This is it. If there was ever a need to be brave, it’s now. You look at Daniel. He looks back, that soft smile of his ever present on his face. Honestly, as long as he stays at your side, you feel everything’s going to be okay. Taking his hand and squeezing it tightly, you cautiously walk with the rest of the group to the haunted house.

It’s just as horrifying as you thought it was. Split into two sections, the haunted house is actually both a winding hedge maze and a decrepit, old building. Fog emanates from within the intricately designed set, colored either a deep red or a sickly green with the help of stage lights. Every now and then, a bloodcurdling scream is let out, followed by a maniacal laugh. Jesus Christ, they must’ve spent a whole lot of money on this. No wonder it’s so popular.

“How spooky,” that friend says to you, wiggling their fingers for dramatic effect. “If you’re too scared, it’s not too late to back out now.”

“You wish,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “This is gonna be a piece of cake, right, Da—” You stop short when you turn to look at your boyfriend. You thought he was being unusually quiet, but now you see why. He’s giving what looks like the thousand-yard stare, his face as pale as a sheet. You then notice he’s holding onto you exceptionally tight. Like, really tight. If he put any more force, in fact, it’d probably start to hurt. And are his lips… trembling?

“Daniel?” your friend calls out, waving their hand in front of his face. “I feel like I should ask if you’ll be okay.”

“What?” Daniel finally snaps out of his haze, immediately putting on a grin. “Oh, yeah, this is nothing.” His eyes meet yours, and you can see they’re full of fear.

“If you say so,” your friend mumbles, walking off to join the others. When they’re out of earshot, you clasp Daniel by the shoulders.

“Daniel, now it’s my turn to ask you. Are you sure about this?” you ask waveringly. “Listen, none of it means anything to me, and I don’t wanna make—”

Daniel puts a finger to your lips. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” He looks to the haunted house again, and his face drops. “Just don’t let go of me, okay?” He wraps his arm around you, trying to remain confident. “We’re gonna win that bet.”

You’re still feeling a little apprehensive, but it barely matters anymore as the two of you make your way toward the haunted house. As agreed, you would be the first group to enter, a safeguard to make sure you didn’t “cheat.” The man guarding the entrance is wearing a tattered hooded robe, its right sleeve blowing freely in the wind to imply a missing arm. Despite his foreboding appearance, his uncharacteristically bright and sunny temperance before letting you in is almost a refreshing reminder that this whole setup should be nothing more than a fun carnival attraction. Well, emphasis on the “should.”

With bated breath, you and Daniel take your first steps into the hedge maze. You were told the path should be fairly straightforward, but you still have trouble walking through the thick fog, even with all the stage lights. You’ve once again noticed Daniel has reestablished his grip on you, clutching your arm like an anxious child does on his first day of school.

You start off decently enough, and you almost begin to believe you can survive this nightmare unscathed, when suddenly clawed black hands shoot through the hedges in an effort to grab you. Your eyes instinctively widen in terror, and you’re about to let out a scream, but Daniel beats you to it, swiftly ducking his head down into your side. You try to calm him down, but you’re barely able to maintain composure yourself, your head darting left and right in trepidation.

Continuing further down, grotesque creatures try to scare you at every corner, and what you can only assume are the remains of their previous victims are scattered across the bloodstained grass. Daniel can barely see anything with his face buried into your shirt, but his cries for help only continue to grow louder.

“Lord, have mercy,” he repeats, hugging your waist like it’s a lifesaver. “I don’t wanna die tonight.”

All this time, you thought you’d be the one who would need protecting, the typical damsel-in-distress finding safety in her knight in shining armor. Yet, the scene currently playing before you paints the opposite picture: Daniel has quite clearly become that damsel. But despite your initial fear and confusion, you feel something else welling up inside you.

Determination. A determination to face the horror head-on. A determination to get your boyfriend out of this hell. A determination… to be brave.

So with your chest puffed out and Daniel securely in tow, you quickly proceed through the hedge maze and into the building portion of the haunted house. Apparently home to a satanic cult, you’re greeted by maniacal followers, mutilated sacrifices, and vengeful spirits. On any other day, you would probably be screeching your head off, and let’s be real, you can’t help but let out the occasional shout, but Daniel’s helplessness has inspired within you a strength you didn’t know existed.

Before you know it, you’ve finally made it to the exit. Letting out a breath you feel you’ve been holding in since the very beginning, you look down at Daniel, still bent over whimpering. Honestly, he’s kind of adorable like this.

“Daniel, we’re out,” you say. His grip loosens, and he slides down onto his knees. “Are you okay, babe?” His body is shaking, but as he lifts his head, you realize it’s because he can’t stop laughing. Dear Lord, it looks like you’ve broken him.

“There you two are,” a voice calls out from behind you. Your other friends have also managed to escape, most of them now talking amongst themselves. “Damn, I should have never doubted you. You really are a badass.” They motion to Daniel. “I could barely even hear you with this guy begging for his life.”

“What can I say?” you brag. “I scoff at the face of danger.”

“Well, looks like you win,” they reply, bowing dramatically. “So what is it that requires your services, Your Highness?”

A grin forms on your face. “Wow, I think you should do that more often.” They groan. “But I’ll tell you what I want tomorrow. I mean”—you slowly pull your boyfriend up from the ground—“Daniel and I have had quite the evening.”

“As you wish. Far be it from me to interfere with the lovey-dovey couple.” They make a finger gun and shoot you a sly wink. “Come on, guys, let’s leave these two alone. Talk to you tomorrow!”

Once everyone has disappeared from view, you hold Daniel’s hands together in yours. He gives you a comforting smile, but all you feel is this overwhelming rush of guilt. “I am so sorry,” you stutter. “You must’ve been mortified. I should’ve never—”

Daniel suddenly pulls you into his embrace, his warmth encompassing your body. “I told you I’d be fine.” He kisses you on the lips. “And it was worth it.” After what seems like a blissful eternity, the two of you break apart, and you let out a small chuckle. “Now why are you laughing?”

“Because I felt your heartbeat just then, idiot. It’s pounding like crazy.”

Daniel blushes, scratching his head in embarrassment. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m still a little shaken up.”

“Well, how about this?” You slowly brush your hand up his arm. “We get pizza, go home, and watch Interstellar on Netflix. I’ll let you cuddle with that plushie I got earlier.”

“That sounds great, but… I think I’d rather cuddle with you.”

“Deal.”

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kang daniel #kang daniel scenarios #kang daniel imagines

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scribomaniac · 7 years ago

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The House of Sorcery, Chapter 5: The Spectrum of Magic

Read from the beginning here!

The ride back to the house was tense and silent. Adrenaline from her fight left Reyna's body a jittery, fidgeting mess. Her leg wouldn't stop bouncing the entirety of the car ride and her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip relentlessly. Normally such behavior would earn her a glare or two from Dunstan, but he was still mulling over the failed coup, and wasn’t paying his Apprentice a lick of attention. By the time Dunstan pulled into his driveway, Reyna worried that the muscle in his jaw would beat its way out of his skin.

Dunstan must've been angrier than Reyna originally thought, because as soon as they stepped through the door, he headed straight for the China cabinet and began methodically cleaning all the silver and porcelain. She hoped this cleaning spree would just be limited to the cutlery and not extend all the way through the house. She shivered, remembering the last time he'd decided to scrub everything from wood floors to the ceiling vents. It'd taken her a week to get her room to stop smelling like bleach.

Wanting to get away from her Master and his cleaning ire as quickly as she could, Reyna ran up the stairs and hid in her room. Once safe behind her closed door, she opened a window so Poe could fly in and out as he pleased and then texted Marcus and Jorge. They texted back immediately. Dunstan had been right, Johnson had called an end to today's session and had let everyone leave once an ambulance had taken the traitors away. Jorge told her the three men would live, that they just needed some blood to replenish what they'd lost. Marcus told her that Keeper Johnson had sent a team of Sorcerers to follow the ambulance and bind their magic once the doctors had seen to them. Reyna winced, binding a Mage's magic was the ultimate punishment. And even though she knew Sorcerers Woodhall and Murphy deserved it with every fiber of her being, the idea still made her a bit queasy. She’d heard it was a painful process, too, and that the more you fought against the binding, the more it hurt. Reyna recalled the last time a Mage had their magic bound. It was three years ago. A woman had been charged with selling love potions. She sold it like it was candy, like it was something fun and harmless. But love potions weren't harmless, they clouded the victim's thoughts and took away their consent. They were the magical equivalent of a GHB drug and had been outlawed in the U.S since 1989. She'd pleaded innocent to the House, but had been found guilty and sentenced to ten years without magic. She didn't take it well. Instead of accepting her sentence, she'd fought back against the two Sorcerers charged with binding her, and in the end it had taken five Sorcerers to get the job done. Reyna could still hear her screams.

Shaking her head and dispelling the past, Reyna knew nothing that dramatic would happen this time around. The Woodhall brothers and Murphy would still most likely be unconscious when the binding took place. It’d be a small mercy.

Reyna did wonder what they'd use to bind their magic to. The magic had to go somewhere, after all. With the love potion Mage, they'd placed her magic into a vase which was still locked up tight in a secret location known only by the Keeper. Soon it'd be joined by three new objects. At least. Perhaps more, depending on if the House decided to press charges against the three Apprentices.

A few hours later, Reyna heard Andrew arrive back at the house and could vaguely hear his muffled voice talking to Dunstan's. Whatever they talked about, it was short and sweet and followed by the rhythmic thump of Andrew’s feet hitting each stair as he retreated to his room.

It was silent then, at least for a few more hours, and Reyna had been able to read through a few chapters of a book she’d been meaning to read, until her stomach let loose a roar of never ending hunger. Blinking, Reyna frowned and leaned back against some plushy throw pillows, thinking back to the last time she ate. Realizing she hadn’t eaten since breakfast earlier that day, almost ten hours ago now, she grimaced and put down her book. Given today's events, it was unlikely that Dunstan was planning on hosting any guests tonight. Not even Lokesh or Donny. That meant they’d need to order some take out.

Getting up, Reyna quietly trekked down the hall to Andrew's room, careful not to make too much noise. She wasn't sure if Dunstan was still going through his cleaning phase, but if he was, she didn't want him remembering she—and her room—existed.

"Hey, Andrew," she called, knocking twice against his door. "Do you want pizza or Chinese tonight?" Andrew opened the door, a sleepy haze over his eyes telling Reyna he'd just woken up from a nap. He was about to tell her which option he preferred when the front door downstairs slammed open. "What the—?" Reyna shushed him and tiptoed to the stairs, peeking over the wooden bannister in an attempt to glimpse the intruder. "Dunstan!" Keeper Johnson roared, standing square in the foyer. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her stance was wide. She looked ready for a fight, making Reyna wonder if she planned on starting one. "Dunstan, get in here!" Johnson's magic, as cold as frostbite, breezed through the house and made Reyna teeth chatter. "Keeper," Dunstan drawled from the direction of the kitchen. Reyna couldn't see him from where she was crouched, but she could picture him in her mind, clear as day. He'd be leaning against the archway, arms also crossed over his chest, but with a much more casual stance. One knee bent, most likely. And he'd be staring Johnson down with a look that screamed 'unimpressed'. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "You know damn well why I'm here." She all but snarled in response. Reyna winced and looked up just in time to see Andrew flinch. "What the hell was that stunt you pulled at the House?"

“Are you referring to my opinion about the budget or the incident with the traitors?" Oh, there was definitely a smug grin on his face now. Reyna was sure of it. Dunstan was goading her.

Squaring her shoulders, Johnson grounded out through her teeth, "Don't play dumb, James. It's not an attractive quality." There was a beat of silence. Maybe Dunstan shrugged, maybe he sneered, but whatever he did, it didn't deter Johnson. "You almost killed three men. In my House!"

Dunstan stepped closer to the gray haired Mage and into Reyna's line of sight. "Tell me, Karen, what makes you angrier? The fact that I almost killed three men, or the fact that I did it right in front of you and there was nothing you could do to stop it?"

Johnson winced and tried to cover it up with a scoff, "Don't try to weasel out of this," she hissed, "they deserved a trial!"

"A trial?" Dunstan laughed, harsh and in her face. Andrew shifted uncomfortably next to her. He'd never seen this side of Dunstan before. But Reyna had, and she knew he was only getting started. "Karen, they were attacking us! Attacking you! Hell, they wanted to kill you! A trial would've been too good for scum like them. I did you a favor today."

"A favor?" Johnson all but screeched and Reyna idly wondered if there was an echo in the house, for all their repetition.

"Yes, a favor!" Dunstan cut her off before she could go off, "You think any of them would have given you a trial? Or a fair Duel? No, they wouldn't have! And it's reasons like this, Karen, why the House has started to question your leadership! Why a coup was able to form in the first place!"

"I am the Keeper of the House, dammit!" Johnson roared, her voice booming throughout the Victorian, making the crystal chandelier above them rattle. "You're trying to breed chaos and discord and I will not have it! I will have order, James!"

Not one to back down or be cowed by a bit of foundational trembling, Dunstan roared back, "This isn't playing house, Karen, it's the House of Sorcery! It was born amidst chaos and discord! It thrives in that environment! If it didn't," his voice calmed to barely a whisper, his words fully enunciated as he continued, "we wouldn't be standing here today."

"Don't give me that crap," Johnson took a step away and began to pace the foyer like a caged animal. "Just because that was the case then, that doesn't mean the House has to continue on in that way. The Witch Trials are over. The time of the Mancers has ended." She stopped her frenetic movement to collect herself. Breathing in slowly through her nose, Johnson held the breath for a moment before releasing it through her mouth. "The House needs to move forward."

"Don't you mean backwards?"

Johnson bristled, but pretended she didn't understand. Turning towards a decorative mirror in the foyer, she delicately rearranged a few strands of hair, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Dunstan moved to stand behind her, looking into the mirror too, "I mean that you've been condemning me for acting like a Mancer, but you want everyone to return to the days of Wicca. When everything was peaceful, and no one so much as thought of raising a finger to fight."

"And what's so wrong with that?" Johnson turned her steely gaze on him through the glass. "Tell me, James, what's so bad about peace?"

Dunstan scoffed, his contempt for the question as plain as the spittle now caught in his beard, and stepped away from Johnson and the mirror, "the Wiccans died out for a reason. Or, more accurately, were slaughtered for a reason. They refused to fight back! Even when they were being burned at the stake, even when their children were being burned!" His voice was growing louder with every word. He placed his hands on Johnson's shoulders and turned her so they were face to face. "And I refuse to let that happen again! I will not sit idly by and watch our children die at the hands of ignorant fools! Not for you, and definitely not for your goddamn ideals!"

Slapping his arms away, Johnson, whose face had turned sheet white, bared her teeth. In a deathly whisper, she asked,“But you'll let them be tortured?" Dunstan's face shuttered closed, all emotion wiped clean from its surface. Reyna grimaced. She had wondered if her stunt with the Apprentices would result in anything. Andrew's eyes darted between Dunstan and Reyna, silently questioning what was happening.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? People saw her, James! Reyna wasn't exactly inconspicuous." Placing her hands on her hips, the Keeper looked like a tired parent, about to scold her unruly child for the hundredth time. "This is why she has a reputation, you know. Why half the House of afraid of her. You need to stop teaching her dark magic and start teaching her some self restraint."

Reyna sneered, her hands cooking around the stair railing’s wooden beams and squeezing tight. She'd rather they were curled around Johnson's heart instead.

"Restraint?" Dunstan barked out a laugh. "She showed plenty of restraint—they're alive, after all, aren't they? Alive and in your custody, I might add. And if she had shown restraint, you wouldn't be standing here right now!

"As for those afraid of her, I can't say I'm surprised. It is only natural for the prey to fear the predator, and Reyna," he pointed up in the general direction of where Andrew and Reyna were hidden, "is at the top of the food chain. She's an apex predator—a wyvern in a house of cattle."

Johnson's lips disappeared into a thin line and a vein alongside her temple pulsed against the skin. "She shouldn't have to be a wyvern, goddammit! She's fifteen years old, James. Fifteen! She shouldn't have this dangerous reputation, she shouldn't be an apex predator, and she shouldn't be using magic to coerce a confession! There's no reason for it—"

"No reason for it?" Dunstan interrupted, his voice barely a whisper. "King is a reason for it. Today's coup is a reason for it!"

"Again with King?" Johnson shook her head, looking like she wanted to throttle the politician’s name out of Dunstan’s head. "He's a thorn in our side, yes, but he's not dangerous." She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, "And in beginning to think your obsession with him has more to do with the fact that he's from Chicago than whatever threat he poses to the House."

“And I think you're underestimating him!"

"No, Dunstan, you're underestimating me." Johnson took a deep breath and tucked some loose strands of her gray hair behind her ears. "But that," she said slowly as she regained control of her anger, "is neither here nor there. There are other issues that will be needing our attention this week—"

Dunstan snorted, "Like your budget?"

Johnson continued as though he hadn't spoken, "And the House cannot afford any more distractions. I am the Keeper, James, and regardless of our difference in ideals, I expect you to respect my authority. The House needs order, now more than ever." Her lips puckered as she thought about how to continue, "And while I do appreciate you coming to my defense, I'd appreciate it more if you told me of any treasonous plots before exposing it to the entire House."

A muscle in Dunstan's jaw twitched, beating along with his pulse. He was barely keeping his anger in check, but with Johnson acting so poised and controlled, if he were to continue biting her head off then it wouldn't look well on him. Even if technically no one else was there to see it.

Reyna hated this part of the game. She hated the subtlety and passive aggressive moves everyone made against each other. She'd much rather settle things in a Duel. Blinking, Reyna wondered if Johnson was right, maybe she was too aggressive. But then again, if she weren't then she'd never have discovered the coup. Wyvern in a house of cattle, indeed.

Lips whiter than fresh snow, Dunstan smiled, "Of course, Keeper Johnson. I'll keep that in mind . . . for next time." Even a fool could comprehend the unspoken threat. Johnson squared her shoulders, and the vein in her temple began to beat against the skin again, but she did nothing. She merely smiled back, her mouth tight and thin and snakelike, and left.

Knowing they couldn't stick around much longer without getting caught, Reyna pulled on the sleeve of Andrew's shirt and dragged him back to his room. She'd deal with her Master later. Hopefully Johnson’s visit wouldn't send him back into a cleaning frenzy.

"What was that all about?" Andrew asked as soon as his door shut behind them. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. He looked like a little kid who'd just caught his parents swearing for the first time.

Reyna crossed the room and took a seat by the window. She shrugged, not really knowing what to say, "A fight. A difference of opinion." she shrugged again, "I don't know, you saw as much as me."

"But you understood more," he pointed an accusatory finger at her and Reyna felt herself shrug once more. Groaning, Andrew fell back onto his bed. The force of his fall made two throw pillows fall off and the sheets ripple. "What were they even talking about?"

Leaning her head back against the cool glass of the window, Reyna asked, "Can you be more specific? They talked about a lot of things."

Not moving from his spot, Andrew looked up at the ceiling as he elaborated, "All of it, basically. Do you think there'll be another coup? Do you think Johnson's right about Dunstan and King? And what's up with all the Wicca stuff?"

Reyna sighed, wondering which part to tackle first, "I think..." she started slowly, "that there are others in the House that feel the same way the Woodhalls and Murphy felt. I think they're afraid to really do anything about it, but they're also afraid of King, so...I don't know," she sighed again, "there could be another plot to overthrow Johnson, but I doubt it."

"You don't think so?" Andrew sat up and cocked his head at her, "Why?"

"Because people prefer the devil they know to the one they don't. Sorcerers might be losing faith in Johnson, but they have no guarantee that whoever replaces her will be any better."

Andrew nodded his head, his eyes glazed as he mulled over her words. "Makes sense," he eventually agreed. "She's got to be worried though, now with threats both inside and out of the House."

Reyna hummed, twisting her lips in thought, "The House is always...unruly...threats to her position aren't really anything new. And King is...scary, but the House has faced worse threats...like the Witch Trials." She pushed some hair behind her ear and shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time, "If we survived that, we'll survive him."

"Right...," Andrew rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace pulling at his lips. "The Witch Trials..."

Reyna blinked at him and he only stared back. After a moment, Reyna beat through the bush, "Please tell me you know about the Witch Trials."

He blushed and began to stutter, "Of course know about the Witch Trials! I mean, who doesn't know about them?" His leg began to bounce and everything around him suddenly became a thousand times more interesting than Reyna.

Scrutinizing him, she hounded, "Okay, what do you know?"

"Hmm?" He began picking at his shoelace, "What?"

"The Witch Trials," Reyna crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward. "What, exactly, do you know about them?"

"I know they happened in Salem!" His nose twitched as he thought, "Seventeenth century. And I—I know that a lot of Mages died, obviously..."

"Okay, so you know what's on Wikipedia." Reyna smirked and rolled her eyes. Andrew glared at her, his cheeks on fire, but that only made Reyna smile wider. "Here's the basics," she flicked out her thumb, "before the Trials, Mages were called Wiccans. They were real in tune with nature and were pacifists. Kinda boring, but whatever.

"Then," she stuck out her pointer finger, "in 1691 the colonists of Massachusetts began getting a little grumpy. They didn't like Wiccans anymore—thought they were an affront to God or something equally stupid." She ticked off another finger, "So in 1692, when two little girls went missing one day, the grumpsters took that opportunity to blame it on the Wiccans. They claimed they'd stolen the girls away and sacrificed them to the devil in exchange for their magic," she pretended to gag and rolled her eyes so hard they rattled her brain.

"And so they started a mob and began to Witch Trials, and since the Wiccans were such pacifists, they refused to do anything but help light their pyres." A fourth finger had joined in, "And enter the Mancers, saviors of magic in the new world...kinda." She shook her head, now wasn't the time to get side tracked with small details. "They were a faction of the Wiccans who decided, 'No. This whole thing? Not gonna happen.' And they fought back.”

Sticking out her pinky finger, Reyna wiggled all five fingers before continuing, "They stopped the Trials in 1693 and unofficially founded the House of Sorcery," she hummed and revised, "well, more like House of Sorcery: Massachusetts edition. But whatever," she shook her head and relaxed her hand. Staring Andrew down with her sharp, green eyes, she asked, "Any questions?"

Andrews dark brows furrowed and he took a deep breath before asking, "Yeah, if the Mancers saved magic...and stopped the Witch Trials...then why did Johnson act like—like they were evil or something?" A bright light flashed behind his eyes as he followed with, "Why are we Mages? Why aren't we still—?"

Reyna grinned, all teeth and bite, "Because the Mancers stopped the Trials. Not the fighting." Pulling her hair over to one side of her shoulder, she carded her fingers through the dark locks and continued, "No one really talks about it today, but the colonists and Mancers were basically at war for, like, five years. And let's just say the colonists were losing...badly. Massachusetts had basically become a breeding ground for Mancers and Salem was their capital. If the Wiccans were considered too...passive, then the Mancers were on the complete other end of the spectrum. They were bloodthirsty and paranoid and anyone they considered their enemy was in danger."

Taking a deep breath and realizing idly that she could use a glass of water right about now, Reyna swallowed dryly and continued, "It wasn't until around 1765 that the Mancers calmed down with all their kill or be killed mentality. It was like they rebranded themselves...again. And that's when the term Mage was coined pretty much."

Andrew rubbed his chin and hummed, another question bubbling to the surface, "What happened in 1765?"

"The American Revolution," she shrugged. Andrews dark eyes bulged, but Reyna hurried on to answer his unspoken question. Shrugging again, she said, "The colonists wanted to win, and at the time the British navy didn't allow anyone practicing magic to join up, so the Mancers and the colonists made a deal: in exchange for their help, the Mancers would be welcomed back into society. They'd be citizens of the new nation, forever protected by its constitution." Reyna rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh, "Funny what people will do to win."

Andrew frowned, not yet appeased by Reyna's story, "Okay...I get why the colonists wanted the Mancers help, but why did the Mancers agree? I mean, citizenship sounds nice and all, but the Mancers don't sound like a forgiving type."

"I don't know," Reyna really wished she had a water bottle right about now. She wondered if it was safe to go downstairs yet or if Dunstan was still wreaking havoc on the cleaning supplies. "Maybe after over fifty years of fighting to survive they actually wanted a chance to live. Start a family, settle down, stop looking over their shoulders for an angry colonist or fellow Mancer." Brushing some her bangs out of her eyes, she added, "Apparently there had been some infighting, a few assassinations...I guess they decided becoming citizens would make those things a bit harder to pull off."

Her mind flashed back to George's smirking lips, so thin and slightly chapped as the words, "Accidents happen," passed through them. Puckering her lips, she amended, "Or, well, they tried at least."

She rolled her eyes. Duels were still allowed thanks to a small loophole in the U.S constitution. The founding fathers hadn’t wanted to disturb their new truce, so infantile and fragile, with the Mancers and so they left all dealings of magic--Duels, Bindings, and the like--to the Mancers and their own form of government. A few years ago, some congressman had tried to ban Dueling throughout the country, but Congress never passed it. It was still perfectly legal, and if you anything happened during a Duel it was considered your own fault. Even death.

Andrew chuffed out a laugh and laid back on his bed, "What have I walked into?"

"Politics," she sighed. "Any more questions about our long and bloody history?"

Andrew shook his head, "Not right now," he groaned. "I don't think my brain can handle anymore right now."

"Good," Reyna stood up and headed for the door, "'Cause I'm dying of thirst right now." She paused, her hand on the door handle, "You want something to drink while I'm up?"

Andrew shook his head. He looked half catatonic, his eyes gazing blankly at the ceiling above him. Half worried she somehow broke Dunstan's new project, she asked, "How about dinner? Any thoughts on that?"

Blinking, Andrew turned his head towards her, "Gumbo?" His eyes lit up and he looked much younger than his age in that moment.

Wincing, she said, "I don't think Salem has any restaurants that sell that."

Sighing dejectedly, he went back to staring at his ceiling, "Pizza is fine then."

Nodding, Reyna left his room and headed for the stairs. Quickly filling a glass of water and downing it contents, Reyna leaned against the kitchen counter and refilled her glass. Pulling out her phone, she found the contact for her favorite local pizzeria. Just as she was about to press the call button, the muffled sound of glass clinking caught her ear. Putting her phone in her back pocket, Reyna cautiously walked towards the noise.

She found the source in the Parlor Room. Dunstan sat across the room in one of the arm chairs close to the windows, a glass half full of amber scotch in his hand. His dark eyes stared blankly out the window on his left. Reyna paused, her right foot hovering a centimeter off the floor as she took in the scene. Dunstan looked calm, his chin was resting atop his fist, and he slouched ever so slightly into his chair. Looks could be deceiving, though, and if that were the case then Reyna did not want to be the fool who broke the illusion.

“You can come in, Reyna,” Dunstan sighed, shifting his gaze to his Apprentice, “I won’t bite.” He smiled, purposefully showing off his pearly whites.

Reyna pursued her lips. A person could bite with more than just their teeth. Still, she entered the room, eyeing the half empty decanter of Macallan on the liquor cart three feet away. His argument with Johnson must’ve shaken him up more than she’d initially thought if he was breaking out the good scotch.

“So,” he cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, “how much of that argument did you hear?”

“All of it,” she said honestly. She saw no point in lying since neither he nor Johnson had tried to keep it secret. A beat, and then, “Are you okay?”

Dunstan chuffed out a laugh before throwing back the rest of his scotch, “Be a dear and hand me the decanter.”

Figuring that was as close to an answer as she would get, Reyna did as he asked. Dunstan poured himself another drink and took a sip. Silently, he handed the ornately carved glass back to his Apprentice and Reyna placed it back on the cart.

“Johnson’s a fool,” Dunstan said in between drinks. His eyes, as dark as jet and just as sharp, glared out across the room at nothing. “This road she’s on only leads to death,” he snorted and took another drink, “and she expects us to just hold her hand and follow her down.”

Reyna blinked and noticed Dunstan was once again about to run out of his liquor. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the decanter again and refilled his glass. Her Master hummed appreciatively, and Reyna kept the bottle close while she took a seat across from him. “You think there’ll be another coup?”

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, Dunstan slowly answered, “No.” Reyna cocked a brow. “Not for a while, at least. The Woodhall brothers made a spectacle of themselves today. No one will be following that act up anytime soon, not unless they have a death wish.”

“Was their magic bound for life?” Dunstan grunted. Good, Reyna thought, they deserved it. “And their Apprentices?” She asked, wondering idly how long it took for anyone to even find them. It couldn’t have been too hard though. Her fire had probably acted as a beacon.

“Bound,” Dunstan nodded, “but only until they’re eighteen.”

Frowning, Reyna said, “Seems lenient.”

“Johnson’s soft on kids, always has been.” He took another drink and then smirked, “Tell me, little wyvern, what would you have done?”

Reyna shrugged, “I don’t know, not let them off with a slap of the wrist.”

“Binding their magic is hardly a slap on the wrist.” Dunstan rolled his eyes good naturedly, “From what I hear, it’s like losing a limb.”

“Whatever. They knew what they were getting into. Mara felt guilty. That doesn’t happen unless you’re doing something wrong.”

“Is that so?” Dunstan laughed, soft and deeply, as if he heard a very clever joke. Reyna glared and crosses her arms over her chest. She felt like it was a joke at her expense.

Wanting to change the subject, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “What do you want on your pizza?” Dunstan raised an amused brow. Slumping down a bit in her chair, just enough to get a frown from her Master, she elaborated, “We gotta eat, don’t we? And since there’s no gumbo place in Salem, Andrew and I decided on pizza.”

“Gumbo?” Dunstan chuckled softly, not fully understanding the comment but still finding it amusing. “Where is Andrew, anyway? I assume he also heard the argument.”

Reyna nodded, “Yeah, he’s up in his room right now.” She bit back a grimace, “I might’ve broken his brain.”

“Oh?” Dunstan took another sip of his drink, his brows raising in surprise, “How so?”

Shrugging, she told him about the abridged history lesson, “I can’t believe he didn’t know about the Witch Trials,” she said as she glared at a painting behind Dunstan’s head; her confusion making her angry. “It’s weird, right? Like, he’s a Sorcerer and he doesn’t even know his own history.”

“Lots of Sorcerers don’t know their history, Reyna. It’s not like that’s a prerequisite so holding a seat in the House.”

Wrinkling her nose, Reyna scoffed, “It should be.”

Dark eyes scrutinizing, Dunstan asked, “And if you were Keeper, would you make it mandatory? Make every Apprentice take some sort of test before taking the title of Sorcerer?”

Bristling, Reyna sat up straight, “Yeah, I would,” she jutted her chin out defiantly. “It’d ensure the Sorcerers were all qualified.”

Tapping a finger against his glass, Dunstan leaned forward, cocking his head to the side as he pursued his line of questioning, “Is that what makes someone qualified? Knowing their history? Their facts and dates?” He sneered at her, then, “How very one percent of you, Reyna.”

“One percent?” She repeated, her brows furrowing. “How is that me being one percent?”

“Do you think the Woodhall’s know about our history?” He asked, his question making her blink.

“Probably,” She answered slowly.

“Definitely,” Dunstan nodded assuredly. “And do you think they were qualified?”

Lips twisting to the side, she shook her head, “Not really.”

“Then why were they in the House? Because they knew the day the Witch Trials ended?”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “They were in the House because they were legacies. They kept choosing family members as their Apprentices.”

Dunstan hummed, “But they would’ve passed your history test.”

“That doesn’t make them qualified.” She snapped as Dunstan took a final drink of his whiskey and placed the glass on the coffee table between them. “They were pathetic—”

“But you yourself just said that anyone who didn’t know their history weren’t qualified either.” Dunstan interrupted, stroking his beard. His fingers gently straightened out any wayward hairs they came upon, “So what’s more important? Strength or knowledge?”

Cheeks burning with the intensity of heavenly fire, Reyna felt herself being backed into a corner, “That’s not—I just meant—“ she stopped and took a deep breath, trying to sort out her thoughts. “I just meant that our history is important. Mages should know it.”

Dunstan laughed, it was a short, strangled thing. “Not everyone is as lucky as you, Reyna. Not everyone has a Master who cares about their Apprentice’s education.” His dark eyes found her green ones and locked on, “Not everyone is lucky enough to have any sort of education at all,” his nostrils flared, “especially not in magic.”

He was getting angry, Reyna knew he was getting angry—they were teetering too close to the edge of personal, after all—but still, she couldn’t help herself, “There’s schools, and—“

“And what?” Dunstan cut her off sharply, the light glinting off his bare teeth as he grimaced. “Did you know that most people experimenting with magic don’t identify as a Mage? And therefore never pursue further education?

“Or if they do declare themselves a Mage, and want to pursue magic formally, that most magic schools charge one thousand dollars a year, at least, in tuition money? So, unless you come from a family like the Woodhall’s or sell a kidney, you’ll most likely never even start a formal education? And do you know why that is, Reyna?

“It’s because schools cost money, something many people in this country—around ninety nine percent of them—don’t have. Schools require teachers—competent ones, and the more competent, they higher their price. And don’t forget the facilities, another thing that costs—wanna take a guess, little wyvern?—money!

Blood drained from Reyna’s face faster than water down a drain. Little wyvern, he’d said. He always called her that. A wyvern, in a house of cattle. Well if she was a wyvern then Dunstan was a dragon; raining fire and hail down upon her.

“So, no, Reyna.” Dunstan finally paused to take a breath. His skin shined with the beginnings of sweat and his cheeks had turned a hot pink. “There aren’t schools. Not really. Education comes at a price most people can’t pay. And until that changes, incompetent fools like the Woodhall’s will remain in power and people like...like Andrew will hardly ever have an opportunity to learn.”

The two Mages stared at each other for a long beat of silence. Reyna hated when he got like this, like he was some kind of preacher. She especially hated it because he was always right. The truth behind his words rang out in her head, and Reyna’s lips pursed as she tried to come up with a counter argument.

Coming up blank, she surrendered, “Fine. Screw the stupid history test, then.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up the number for the pizzeria again, ready for this whole interaction to be over. Thumb hovering over the call button, she huffed, unable to let it go, “I still think our history is important.”

Dunstan stood and walked over to the liquor cart, decanter in one hand and empty glass in the other, he said, “So do I. Education is the most important aspect to any society. It can make or break one.” He played with the decanter’s crystal stopper, his back to his Apprentice. “But first it needs to be made more accessible.”

“So why don’t we just make it more accessible?” She thought about today’s session, before the coup. It seemed like days ago, not hours. “Johnson wants to review the budget,” her words came out fast, and the end of one blended into the beginning of another in her excitement to get them out, “why don’t we get more funding for the schools or maybe start an outreach program or something?”

Dunstan chuckled. This one wasn’t cruel or sharp, it didn’t make Reyna flinch at the sound, but it didn’t sound right, either. It sounded almost...tired. “Maybe if it were up to only Johnson, or only me, or you,” he turned around and crossed his arms, “but it’s not. It’s up to four hundred and thirty five Sorcerers, all of whom have their own agenda, their own schemes. Even if Johnson did want to move funds around, maybe even increase the education budget, she’d have to get the House majority to agree with her, and that,” he sighed and shook his head, “will never happen. She’s a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Dunstan walked towards the room’s exit, rolling his neck this way and that in an attempt to relieve some of the tension there. “That’s why the rest of this week will be such a waste,” he said, turning around to face Reyna again, though he wasn’t looking at her. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his dark eyes looking right past her, “Johnson will waste too much time on the budget and other things she can’t change, and not enough time on the things she can; on the real problems at hand.” He laughed, another quiet, tired one, “How’s that saying go again? Those who never learn from their past?”

He shook his head again and started walking away. He paused halfway down the hallway and looked turned, “Oh yeah,” he tucked his hands into his pockets, “order me a sausage and anchovy pizza, will you? Thanks.”

He turned back around and Reyna stared after him until he disappeared around a corner. Blinking rapidly, she tried to reorient herself. So much had happened today. So much had happened and it wasn’t even dinner yet. Stomach grumbling at the reminder, Reyna shook her head, focused, and finally pressed the call button.

Idk why the spacing here between paragraphs is all wonky but i am waaaay too tired to actually care. And no one really reads these anyway so whatevvvvs

#fantasy #magic #supernatural #modern magic #house of sorcery #original work

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soybeantree · 7 years ago

Text

squirtle wang and kim ryan

pairing: namjoon/reader genre/rating: fluff word count: 3.2k+ a/n: jealousy can be as cute as plush toys at times

"What is that?" A voice drags you from your haze of half sleep. You blink as your eyes adjust to the dim cabin light. Namjoon hovers above you, his eyes fixed to the squirtle plushie clutched protectively in your arms. "A squirtle." You blink a couple more times. He pauses realizing the stupidity of his question. "Right, why are you sleeping with it?"

"It's comfy." He runs a hand over his face and sighs. "Why do you sleep with a squirtle?" "It was a gift, and it helps me sleep better." "From who?" You squint up at him not certain what he’s getting at, but you answer. “Jackson.” “Jackson Wang?”

You nod your head. "I was an intern at JYP when he was a trainee. We became friends."

"And he gave you a squirtle?" You shrug. "I told him one time that I needed to get a travel pillow and the next thing I know he's giving me Squirtle Wang." "Squirtle Wang?" "Well his dad is Jackson Wang. It only makes sense for his name to be Squirtle Wang."

"Sir, please don't block the aisle." The stewardess appears on Namjoon's left smiling at him politely. He apologies profusely and nearly trips as he moves down towards the bathroom. You let loose a chuckle at his misfortune and the strange conversation before burrowing down in your seat and snuggling up with Squirtle Wang.

The next couple days are crazy as they always are when there's a concert. The boys may get a day off before the concert to enjoy the city, but you're going none stop, making sure everything is ready. The concert comes and goes in a whirlwind, and it's again time to pack up and move on. Shoving your last bits of clothes in your suitcase, you look around for Squirtle Wang. The plush toy is always your last thing to pack as he usually has to be tied to your backpack since there's no room for him inside. He's not on your bed which you verify by throwing all your blankets on the floor. You pull open drawers and doors, looking everywhere for the little guy. Panic sets in as you re-check everywhere. Your mind races through the past couple days trying to remember the last time you had him. If he'd been with you while you slept, you had no memory of it. You'd been so tired that you'd passed out the minute your head hit the pillow. You for sure had him on the plane and after wards on the way to the hotel which meant he would have been on the bus. Rushing out of your room, you make a beeline for the parking garage. The buses are already being loaded, so you're able to quickly look through them crawling on the floor and checking under the seats. No luck though, and it's nearing time to leave. You wrack your brain on the way back to your room, but you come up empty. As you reach your door, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you find Namjoon standing behind you his brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay?" "I can't find Squirtle Wang." It comes out as a sob without you meaning it to. His face falls. "I... um..." You shake your head and force your features to calm. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. It's just a toy." You choke on the last word. Taking a deep breath, you try again to be calm. "You should get going. The buses are leaving soon. I have to get my bags." You give him a smile before turning back to your door. As you start to open it, you hear a bag unzipping. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Namjoon crouched on the floor rummaging through his backpack. He pulls out a Ryan Plushie and holds it up to you. "I know it's not the same, but maybe he can keep you company until you find Squirtle Wang." You eye the stuffed animal before tentatively reaching out and grabbing it. He's right it's not the same, but it's a sweet gesture and you don't want to be rude. You hold the toy to your chest, bringing a dimpled smile to Namjoon's face. The sight stops your breath. Clearing your throat, you say, "You really should get going. I won't be far behind." He nods, still smiling, before heading down the hallway. You shake your head to clear the strange feeling his smile caused. The Squirtle Wang debacle has made you too sensitive, you decide. The tour continues, and you continue to work relentlessly, though you don't give up your search for the plush toy. You check every piece of equipment and question all of the other staff members, but there seems to be no trace. While Namjoon's Ryan has kept you company at night, you can't help but miss your original buddy. You can't fathom telling Jackson you lost him. You know you'll have to though. Once you get back home, he'll find out soon enough. Every time he visits your place he ends up cuddling with him as you two swap tales of your adventures. The longer he's missing the more you realize what a fixture the little guy has been in your life during the past years. After yet another exhausting day of setting up, you head back to the hotel ready to crash. As you head towards the elevator, you hear your name being called. Turning around you see one of the managers waving you down. With a heavy sigh, you force a smile and walk towards the man. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?" "I'm glad I caught you. I promised the boys I'd pick them up some snacks, but there's a bit of an emergency. If I give you some money, can you pick up snacks and take them to them?" Playing gopher was not on your list of things to do tonight, but you can't say no. You agree with a smile and march right back out of the hotel. You're not certain what to get them, so you end up getting them a little bit of everything. You lug the snacks back to the hotel and up to Namjoon's room where the manager said the boys were gathered. Using your foot to knock, you wait patiently while the plastic bags dig into your hands. Tae opens the door, and you nearly throw the bag of snacks at him. He chuckles grabbing the food and inviting you in. Yet again, you find yourself unable to say no. As you walk into the room, your greeted with the unmistakable racket of six boys. They greet you when they see you, but soon enough their attention is glued to the food. You stand well away from the feeding frenzy, taking in the large suite. Your room is nice, but it's not a suite. As your eyes roam, you catch sight of a familiar swatch of green peeking out of Namjoon's suitcase. The boys are still busy dividing the snacks, and your curiosity is piqued. You walk to the suitcase, squatting beside it before pulling on the slip of fabric. Squirtle Wang slides out of the suitcase, and you let out a small squeak of surprise. You turn the stuffed animal left and right, taking in the tiny rip under his arm and the black coffee stain on his leg. It really is Squirtle Wang. You clutch the toy to your chest, squeezing the stuffing out of it. In the midst of your joy, realization dawns on you. Standing up, you turn to face the boys who still have their backs to you. "Kim Namjoon." The room stills from the ice in your voice. The idol in question straightens and swivels on his heel to face you. All the blood drains from his face when he sees what's in your arms. "Why was Squirtle Wang in your suitcase?" "I... um... I... f-f-found it." He stutters out. "And you didn't think to tell me. Even though you know I've been looking everywhere for him." "I think he took him." Yoongi pipes in. "Hyung." Namjoon screeches. "Did you take him?" "What? No. I-" "He definitely did." "Yoongi!" Namjoon glares at the fellow rapper before glancing back at you. "I did find him." "When?" Tae joins the conversation, a smile on his face. "Because I've seen that stuffed animal in your suitcase for the past week." "WHAT?" You scream. Namjoon is pure white. You step towards him, and he cowers back. "I think you should kill him." "Yoongi!" Jin reprimands. "I don't know what's going on or what is so special about that Squirtle, but I think we all need to calm down." You take another step towards Namjoon and he steps back bumping into the table and knocking half the snacks on the floor. You give him a satisfied smirk before marching out of the room. Later that night, you sit on your balcony, explaining everything to Jackson. Now that Squirtle Wang is safe and you know he was never lost but the victim of a kidnapping, you feel comfortable telling Jackson everything. "I just don't understand why you would keep something you know is precious to someone from them, especially when you know they're freaking out about it being lost." Jackson has silently listened to your entire tirade, but as soon as you finish and pause for a breather, he bursts out laughing. "Why are you laughing? Stop it." He continues. "If you don't stop, I will hang up." You can hear his laughter faltering. Though you doubt it has anything to do with your threat. He probably ran out of breath. After a few more seconds, the laughter dies out completely, and you can hear Jackson breathing deeply. "Are you quite finished?" "Yes." You can hear his smile. "Thanks for that by the way. I needed a good laugh." "You're welcome." You growl. "Now, will you tell my what was so funny?" "I always knew Joon was a jealous type, but I never realized how petty he could be." He chuckles again, but you barely hear it. Your thoughts are frozen on the word jealous. "What do you mean jealous? What is he jealous of?" "And I thought you were the smart one." "Jackson!" "Joon likes you, and he doesn't like that you sleep with a plush toy I gave you, so he took it and gave you one instead." "That's ridiculous." You say matter-of-factly despite the fact that your brain is a scrambled mess as it tries to refute Jackson's observation. There's no way that Namjoon likes you. "It's the truth." He pauses, and you can hear voices in the background. "Hey, I have to go. You're back home next week right?" You answer in the affirmative. This is the last stop on the tour, and you're more than ready to be back home. "We'll meet up next week then to talk more okay?" You nod your head and mutter an acknowledgment before the line goes dead. Your phone slowly slides from your ear as you stare out at the city scape. "Jackson's just being ridiculous." You whisper. But you can't get the idea out of your head. The thought brings heat to your cheeks. "Ahhhhh!" You growl, shaking your head. "This is ridiculous." Standing up, You enter your hotel room and head to your bed. You're too tired to deal with this. However, your bed only compounds the problem. Squirtle Wang is sitting against a pillow with Kim Ryan to his left. You grab both plush toys and shove them in the dresser, slamming the drawer shut. Your roommate grumbles something, and you stare at her sheepishly, waiting for her to fall back asleep. With great skill, you manage to avoid Namjoon for the remainder of your stay in the current city. You don't have the time or energy to deal with the possibility that what Jackson said might be true and the awkwardness that will result from it. Packing up your bag, you glare at the dresser where your stuffed animals have remained. With a sigh, you open the drawer and stare at them. Trashing them both would be cathartic, but you'd regret it later. Instead you attach both of them to your backpack and walk out of the room with your suitcase in tow. Everyone is waiting at the buses when you arrive, and you swerve to avoid the boys' bus. Just as you think you've been successful once again, you hear your name. Namjoon stands a few feet from you, looking at his feet. You'd like to avoid this at all costs, but you suppose you should be an adult. Walking up to him, you smile. Not that he notices. He's still fascinated by his shoes. "Look, I was mad when I found out you'd kidnapped Squirtle Wang, but I get over things quickly. I've already forgiven you." "Then why are you avoiding me." His eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches. Your mind has Jackson's voice on repeat. "Joon likes you." "I haven't been avoiding you." You squeak out. Closing your eyes, You berate yourself for how unconvincing that was. Opening them, You start again. "Okay, maybe I have. But I have my reasons." He looks at you expectantly, but your brain flounders for a plausible lie. "Okay, I have one reason, but I can't tell you. And oh my gosh, would you look at the time." You glance at the non-existant watch on your wrist. "It's time to go." You spin and dart for your bus.

Adjusting to life back home is always difficult after a tour. You can't even remember your old routines, and everyone wants to meet up so establishing new routines is impossible. You're left floundering about in the midst of chaos. However, there are always brief moments of calm in the chaos. This evening is one of them. Jackson is coming over to catch up like he promised, and he's bringing food which means there's one less thing for you to worry about. When he arrives, you spread the food out on your table and commence with the feasting. Between mouthfuls, you tell him about the tour and all the cities you visited, and he tells you about all the things he's been doing. "Do you ever sleep?" You ask, and he laughs. "I'm serious. I don't think you know the meaning of the word rest." "There's just so much too do." He shrugs. You shake your head. It's a worn out argument, and Jackson will never change. As you two are about to start a movie, your door bell rings. Jackson raises an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. I don't know who it is. I wouldn't make plans with someone on our friendship night." He continues to stare at you. Chuckling you toss Kim Ryan at him before standing up. He cradles the plush toy in his right arm across from Squirtle Wang who's in his left arm. You shake your head at his antics and head for the door. Kim Namjoon stands in your doorway a take-out bag in his hand. You stare at him, and he stares at you. His eyes slip behind you. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company. I should have called before coming over." "It's okay, Joon. I was just leaving." Jackson says from behind. You whip around to glare at him. "No, you weren't." "Yes, I was." He smiles at you as he walks towards the door. He stands next to you and greets Namjoon. "You two have fun. Joon, we should catch up when you're free." The fellow idol nods but doesn't say anything. His eyes keep swiveling from you to Jackson to the plush toys in Jackson's arms. "I'll see you later, (y/n)." He passes you the stuffed animals and slips past Namjoon. "Come in." You say gesturing with Squirtle Wang, and he does. He takes in the food containers still sprawled on the table and glances at his bag. "If you don't think, I can eat all of what I just ate plus what you've brought, then you don't know me." Shifting the toys to one arm, you take the bag from him. Your fingers brush against his sending a spark up your arm. From the look in Namjoon's eyes, you weren't the only one who felt it. Clearing your throat, you step away from him and set the bag on the table. You throw the toys on the couch before sitting in front of the table. "You kept him." Namjoon says as you pull the food out of the bag. "Kim Ryan?" You glance back at the plush toy. "Of course. He was there to comfort me in Squirtle Wang's absence. I couldn't just brush him to the side." "Kim Ryan?" He quirks a brow. "I like to name inanimate objects. Is that weird?" "No." He chuckles revealing his dimples, and you wish he wouldn't. "It's not a very original name." He continues, taking a seat next to you. You pass him a container and a pair of chopstick. "So?" You say around a mouthful of food. He's quiet for a minute then "I'm surprised you kept him." The words are a whisper. You glance at him to find him slouched over picking at the food. You swallow your mouthful. "I can't hold him responsible for his dad's actions." You try to joke, but the words come out too serious. Namjoon's eyes meet yours, and you look away, clearing your throat. "Do you want to watch a movie?" You glance back at him to find his face inches from yours. Your lungs freeze while your heart starts racing. This close you can see the individual colors that give his eyes their warmth. Those eyes are fixed on your lips. "I'm going to kiss you." His eyes flicker up to yours. You manage a nod before his lips brush against yours. It's soft and sweet and sends a fire racing through you, unfreezing your lungs. He pulls back and you're panting from the brief contact. He sits back, leaning against the couch. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." He confesses with a dimpled smile. You continue to stare at him trying to get your breathing under control. "Did you really steal Squirtle Wang because you were jealous?" He stares at you, and you stare back. It was a stupid question, but it's the only thing you can think to say. "I did find him! He fell off your backpack while you were going through the airport. I just... didn't give him back." He coughs and looks away from you. "Jackson is just a friend, but I do have sentimental attachment to Squirtle Wang. In future, I would prefer if your jealousy didn't endanger my stuffed animals." You give him a pointed look. "We have a future?" His dimpled grin leaves you breathless and forces you to look away. "We'll see." The squeak in your voice ruins your attempt at aloofness. Namjoon laughs while your cheeks redden.

#hmw #bts drabble #namjoon drabble #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #namjoon #namboob #so confession time #this drabble was definitely inspired by my squirtle wang which i crotched for myself because I am a loser #however he is adorable so whatever

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