#so we took her to clean it out and give them follow up instructions etc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honoredbastard · 3 years ago

Text

I COME BACK WITH THOUGHTS/THEORIES ON ITADORI AND HIS RELATIONS- I THINK.

anyways, so i'll just point this out: i'm not good at speaking my thoughts in an organized manner. i absolutely suck at it, i speak on how my brain brings up the thoughts so i might ramble, get over my head in a thought, etc. i can't control it so i apologize in advance for the jumpiness of the texts. i will spell a lot of things wrong and not everything will be correct, as i read translations and on a manga site. don't worry it's not illegal, i believe.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

i apologize for my absence! last week or two weeks ago the tower to my computer completely broke and will not turn on. i tried to repair it and follow my fathers instructions but nothing worked. even cleaned off the fan and went through countless nights readjusting things. it's not my cords either so to help me out my father is working extra shifts to get me a new pc. so in the meantime i'll do small posts like these but not full writing/head canons until i have a computer tower lol. a family member was kind enough to allow me to have their phone while we work throughout this issue.

now onto the actual topic:

kenjaku and itadori's relationship. ( family wise ).

for context in the most recent chapter, 160 "colony" kamo shows up in sasaki's home and talks to her about the culling game and a barrier. but that's not the point, the point is as he's guiding her to the barrier inside her "dream" at the end he says "oh right. i almost forgot to tell you. thank you for getting along with my son." and then she is awakened inside the barrier, in her pajamas beside iguchi. when sasaki and iguchi look at the barrier and gather themselves they bring up kamo.

sasaki asked iguchi if he mentioned his son and he says no. this leaves sasaki in a state of confusion when itadori flashes in her mind. she says his name aloud like she finally connected the dots. now. why am i bringing up this whole kenjaku thanking sasaki for being his "son"'s friend. it throws me off because why didn't he thank iguchi?

did he not think iguchi meant their friendship? because sasaki was the one uninjured and still counted itadori as a friend? does iguchi not consider itadori as a friend anymore?

because we haven't seen these two at all since the incident. that raised many questions in me. as well "how can itadori be related to kamo?" and itadori is related to choso.

because kamo's technique is explained ( vaguely. we are aware he can create barriers, take over bodies, and has incredible cursed tools. chapter 134. this is also where choso makes his connection ( i believe. ) to itadori yuji as his brother. but because we saw this with todo many thought itadori just had another unconsious technique that allows the person who is hit create false memories and believe of a completely made up relationship with itadori without his knowledge. but alas, i was wrong. ) and we're given more hints shown than told ( imo ) i tried my best to make sense out of the situation and what he said. i think my conclusions are pretty solid, so continuing on.

we're given very little history on itadori, his past, and family. at the start of the manga we know that itadori's only family he knows is his grandfather and that he is ill in the hospital. at the very very beginning we learn that itadori is your average cute, fluffy, laid back but strong and goofy protagonist. in smaller words: itadori is kirby but even cuter and dumber.

my first impressions of him is a pineapple. if you're confused to this saying: it's calling a person prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. and this is true, itadori's grandfather seems prickly and cold on the outside but he genuinely cares for itadori.

he raised itadori for all we know and did that with his all in assumption. but this ends up backfiring onto itadori, because he cares so much for his grandson - he ends up leaving a " curse " on yuji.

help people. save them.

itadori takes this to heart as his grandfathers speech is his last one. when he looks over to his grandfather the man is dead and now yuji is left alone. then the following events occur.

at this point in time i assumed itadori was an orphan ( he technically is if we're connecting the dots. his parents has not been shown, he doesn't speak of them, they aren't in the picture. we can conclude either they disowned itadori or died before he could make complete memories of them. )

but when we are shown in chapter 143 itadori's parents we see this "woman" jin ( yuji's father ) and his grandfather talking about has the same scar pattern. this scar pattern is either stitching ( assuming that is how kamo keeps the top of the opened skull from coming off. this is also how kamo revealed his cursed technique / body of sorts ( the brain, assuming that is kenjaku in his cursed technique and not the body / puppet he is controlling " getou suguru " ) to gojou. )

this is the only way i find kamo being able to assign itadori as his son. why is that you might be asking this dumbass here.

we do not have the full story, exact date, location, and full context of the memory/dream itadori is having. this cannot be fake either because kamo would than have no reason to call itadori his son. or is there? anyways.

take a leap of faith with me. imagine that before itadori is born ( he seems no more than a few weeks or days old in this memory. hence why i am thinking my conclusion is pretty solid in theory. but yknow gege, there might be something different. ) anywhooo.

TW. D3ATH/IMPLYING ANTI LIFE ATTEMPT

kamo had to have taken over yuji's mothers body after an accident OR after she gave birth to yuji. his grandfather is interrupted by her before he can finish his sentence but it seems to be leading to the conclusion that either kaori ( yuji's mother ) died while giving birth to yuji or kaori could not conceive and tried to take her own life or cause an accident that would take her life. ( i read a fan translation for this part but im pretty sure i also read the official translation today too and it added up to the same. )

i believe in the first idea, but since kamo's cursed technique wasn't explained in detail i don't know the conditions of his body technique. does the original host of the body have to be dead? can he regenerate body limbs ( i highly doubt. getou lost an arm during his fight with yuta. overconfident dick. reminding me of an ex ANTWAYS. i forgive him for being overconfident smooch. he learned. OFF TOPIC but continuing on i promise.

this is being continued from the cut off point. i'm so upset so it'll just be summarized. i can't believe this shit lol i took three hours just to finish it for it to literally cut off the bottom half.

continuing on in a sadge mood. kamo must not have the complete ability to take over a body. after all getou took his only arm he had as he was dying and choked his own body to his full ability. getou was willing to die ( possibly, you never know he could be alive if he killed his own body. moving on. ) just to have the chance to save his friend from being swallowed by a damn box.

so there has to be a chance that kamo cannot fully take over the previous persons complete consious and memory of their body. if getou still had his other arm after losing the fight to yuta, he could've choked kamo with both arms. in theory kamo wouldn't be able to control the right arm and die to the previous host choking him to death.

so why wouldn't the other hosts do it? after all, kamo did say it was his first time experiencing such a thing. assuming kamo has lived throughout many bodies in his 150+ lifespan none of the previous hosts could take control of their body.

i believe getou was completely influenced by gojou and his six eyes. there is no way gojou would even try to speak out to his friend unless he had an inkling or saw getou still in there. helpless and without the ability to save himself from the cage he's in.

being used and puppeteered in his own body by an external force. laughing in the world he could not. putting getou into a constant misery and defeat that he couldn't escape his hell. the one he tried so hard to fight and get out of. even if it was the wrong path.

gojou was the last person to witness getou dying. he had to watch getou bleed out after their conversation because he couldn't bring himself to kill his friend. the one he spent his whole jujutsu student life with. so for gojou to say such a thing to getou despite all that he did had to break getou out of his misery and give him that small sliver of hope that he could do something. of course he failed, but i doubt that's going to be the end of that.

the only way i see kamo being related to yuji is if he took over kaori's body before the pregnancy. assuming that when kamo takes over a body he becomes one with said body and is that person for however long he lives in said body. my only thing is, can he take over a persons body whilst they are alive? i would go more in depth like i did the last time but i am extremely upset about my work being erased so that's the end of this part.

thank you for reading! i have one more thing for you though.

the last time we see sukuna in a manga page after the shibuya incident is where he is on his throne and in his domain. this is after yuji is stabbed by yuta and is presumed "dead" at the time. he seems to be interested in yuta and i can think of 2-3 things. I would love to hear your theories too so don't be afraid to barge into my dms like the koolaid man.

A - sukuna is interested in Yuta because of his ability to use the reverse healing technique ( only a few sorcerers know this. sukuna being the first. shoko being the second one to be told that she has this power and then gojou. ) because of this he sees potential in yuta as well or has added this boy into his plans. after all, there is very few that can make sukuna make an expression that isn't an RBF. aka megumi and possibly gojou. I was looking at the page of him stabbing yuji and noticed we only see the entry point of where the blade enters. it's smaller because some got chunked off so its a possibility yuta used this to his advantage when "killing" yuji and instead hit an artery that could kill him but quickly healed him afterwards. or just his heart. the ideas.

B. Rika, Yuta is able to completely control Rika as shown. Even though he claims he is on the weak side, these two combined seem like an unstoppable force. He may be interested in Rika as she is a curse that has been put on someone that can fully control it. Not many people is shown to be able to control their curse. As we haven't met many.

this was enti and that's the last of my post! thank you for reading and it was a fun one. even though i had to restore this shit. anyways, i'd love you to add or fix up my ideas and tell me your thoughts and opinions! Thanks a bunch!

^ this is for pure humor

29 notes · View notes

yespleasetommyshelby · 4 years ago

Text

Love in the 21st - Jay Halstead Fic - Two

"Alright, Halstead, Dawson, Lindsey, you guys breach first, the rest of us will follow behind." Voight instructed receiving nods from everyone as the first three made there way up the metal staircase of the old motel. Just as they reached the top bullets started flying as three men burst out of the room and ran for it round the back of the building, residents screamed and tried to duck to avoid being hit in the crossfire.

"Everyone move out and find them, Platt, you're with me!" Voight yelled through the coms, everyone holding their guns up as they raced to catch the shooters.

Following Voight's lead we made our way to the room that was our original target, I kept my gun up as Voight slowly pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, me right behind him. The rooms were covered in blood, noticing a trail on the floor I motioned over to Voight who nodded and began to follow. The trail led us to a bathroom where the body of a man was laid over the bath tub that was full of blood, but his head was resting on the sink, he'd been decapitated.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered to myself as the rest of the team came in after losing the suspects.

"That's Rev." Jay spoke as he took a closer look at the lone head sitting and watching.

"Get forensics down here, let's head back to base." Voight instructed walking out of the room. I started to follow until I heard what sounded like a sniffle coming from a closet in the hall.

"Hey, anyone checked in here?" I asked raising my gun as I received shakes of the heads from my team. Keeping my gun raised I slowly opened the door only to find a teenager sat in the back corner, looking scared out of his mind. "Hey, it's okay, what are you doing here?" I asked reaching out and watching as he slowly took my hand pulling himself up.

"They just barged in, I ran and hid in here, I could hear him crying man, he was begging for his life." The boy said as he stared at the ground, almost like he was reliving what just happened.

"What's your name kid?" Voight asked coming up besides me.

"D'Anthony, I'm just a runner, I swear!" He said holding his hands up in defense.

"It's gotta be a cartel, beheadings are their thing." Antonio said as he walked over to the three of us.

"Alright, lets head back to base, you're coming too kid." He instructed patting the boy on his shoulder.

------------

As we arrived back at the district Voight and Al took D'Anthony down to an interrogation room and came back up all of half an hour later with the name of a Columbian cartel hitman, Pulpo. That was an hour ago and since then we've got no closer to finding this guy's real name, let alone where he is.

"I gotta go talk to a CI, keep on digging and find me something on this piece of crap. Everything we do stays in-house, you tell me the truth so that I can lie for you." Voights loud voice carries through the bullpen as he walks away without a second look.

----

"This guy is known as Coop," Voight starts as he slaps another picture up on the board. "My CI says that this guy will know where Pulpo is, lets move out." He says, everyone rushing to the armory to get their gear.

As we approach Coop's place with our guns raised Jay signals that the door has been left open slightly, slowly and quietly making our way inside we clear the house room by room and it's empty, except for the body of man laying in a puddle of his own blood whose head sits on top of the counter lifeless, its own smaller puddle of blood slowly dripping down onto the floor.

"I guess this is Coop." Erin says taking a closer look at the lone head.

"Someone's cleaning house." I thought out loud receiving nods of agreement from my team members.

------------

"Hey Officer Platt, how's it going?" My Aunt's voice makes me jump as I walk past her desk towards the stairs leading to intelligence.

"Hey Sarge, how's it going?" I asked turning and leaning on the front of her desk.

"How's intelligence treating you?" She asked handing a patrolmen a set of keys without looking at them.

"So far so good, well, other than the cartel cutting peoples heads off." I said sarcastically just as the patrolman Kim, that I'd met earlier walked in looking rather pissed.

"Listen, I got a cousin in the morgue downtown, I need you to go and grab me something." Trudy started as she wrote an address down on a slip of paper before siding it over the desk towards Kim. "It's a small gold ring with a diamond, he wears it on his pinky finger of his left hand, get it and bring it to me." She instructed apparently not realising just how weird that sounded.

Kim turned to me looking just as confused as I felt. "I'm sorry Sarge, what?" She asked in disbelief as she looked at the address on the paper.

"The man owes me money, he's not getting out of it just because he died. Now go." She spoke shooing her away, with another odd look between me and Trudy, Kim slowly walked away looking back over her shoulder at me with a raised brow, I shrugged since I didn't have a clue what was going on right now.

"What cousin exactly?" I asked as I looked back at Trudy.

"On my mothers side, you wouldn't have met him, he borrowed four hundred bucks a couple of years ago and I want my money back." She said nonchalantly shrugging and going back to her computer.

"Right." I said slowly nodding. "I'm gunna head back upstairs, we do have a Colombian hitman to catch." I sighed turning and walking up to the hand scanner to buzz myself up to intelligence.

"Be safe!" She called just as I went through the gate.

"You know I will be!" I called back without turning around.

"I pulled Coop's phone records, there's multiple calls to the same number in the last week or so, problem is it's a burner phone and it's gone dead." Jay announced just as I got to my desk.

"Can you find out where the phone came from? There could be security footage of the guy who brought it." I said looking over at Jin, intelligence's resident tech guy, who nodded his head.

"Give me two minutes." He said before disapearring back to his tech cave, as I like to call it, Jay right behind him.

"The phone was brought in a store down on the south side, known territory for the Columbian Cartel." Jay says as he comes back up from the cave.

"Take Platt, go get me a name." Voight nodded before walking back into his office.

"Let's go mini sarge." Jay smiled as he walked past my desk. Narrowing my eyes at him I couldn't hep but laugh slightly, grabbing my coat and following him out.

----

"Ready?" Jay asks as we got out of the car and started walking to the store that sits on the corner of the street.

"You know I am." I grinned cheekily at him before pushing the door open and walking in. "Hey, we need a name of a guy that came in here just over a week ago and purchased a burner phone." I said getting straight to the point shrugging when Jay raised an eyebrow at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The guys said shrugging his shoulders and avoiding eye contact, a lone receipt apparently much more interesting than the two intelligence officers stood in his store.

"Come on man, we know it was brought from this store, so we aren't gunna leave until you give us the name of the guy who brought it." Jay told him motioning between the two of us only receiving a shrug in reply. Alright, we tried talking, let's do it my way.

"Hey Jay, a lot of stores round here get robbed quite often, right?" I asked looking over at him, leaning against the counter casually as the store keeper watched me with caution in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, almost everyday." He nodded going along with me with a slight confused frown.

"And most stores keep a weapon of some sort behind the checkout right?" I asked him again receiving a nod and a confused look in reply. "I'm assuming you've got something behind there, am I right?" I spoke turning to the shopkeeper this time.

"Um, yes I have a bat, but it's totally legal man, it's only for self defense, I've never even used it." He admitted holding his hands up with wide eyes.

"Can I see it please, Sir?" I asked holding my hand out for the bat. With a sigh and a slight nod he reached down under the checkout and pulled out a wooden baseball bat that, like he had said, didn't look like it had been used.

Nodding my head slightly I held it by the handle tightly and suddenly swung, knocking down a display of sweets that was at the front of his store. Ignoring his yells for me to stop I took another swing, knocking bottles of this and that off of the shelves, he's lucky they were plastic or he would've had quite a problem there.

"You got to stop her man, come on." The guy yelled at Jay who was watching with a slight grin on his face, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders at the man.

"Give me a name and I'll stop." I told him shrugging while slightly swinging the bat by my legs.

"I don't have a name." He yelled looking between me and Jay, who just raised an eyebrow at me.

"Alrighty then." I shrugged before I swung the bat into his shelves once more, only aiming to knock things off the shelf, not cause any real damage, but he didn't need to know that.

"Fine! Omar! Omar Rojas!" He yelled just as I raised the bat to swing again. "Just stop! Please!" He pleaded.

Nodding his head Jay patted the owner on the back. "See, wasn't so difficult was it?" He asked sarcastically as he stepped over packets and bottles that were littered over the floor to get to the door.

"You might wanna tidy up in here, its a bit of a mess." I smiled sweetly at the man before throwing his bat on the ground and walking out to be met by Jay.

"Hey, don't get me wrong that was real badass, but not exactly by the books." He laughed as we made our way to the car.

"Yeah well, what is it Voight said? Tell him the truth and he'll lie for me?" I asked with a laugh climbing into the car, him following with a laugh of his own.

Hey guys! So, I don't actually know how to creat links and what not on here (I'm on mobile) so I've tagged the series as 'love in the 21st One/Two/Three etc..

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead imagine #one chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fic #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #jay Halstead fic #love in the 21st #love in the 21st two

56 notes · View notes

taeescript · 4 years ago

Text

II. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 6.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) scenes are graphic. this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> i’m so glad to see people enjoyed the last part! this part is a little shorter but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. will likely be making a masterlist post for this soon as i’m having too much fun writing this and it’s getting long. feedback and comments always appreciated. as always, enjoy! (:

previous part || masterlist || next part

Muscles and bones. The primary architecture of the human body. It allows us to stand and walk; sit and run; jump and spin. But what really keeps us alive? Blood. It carries the nutrients our body needs. It carries the defenders our body requires. So integral to our survival, blood can tell a story of its own. Looking at the direction of travel along with the width and length of the spatter, a single droplet is its own author, spinning a tale of its origin and its birth. A good spatter gives us more information than just a large overlapping pool. “Come again?” Jimin says in disbelief. Taehyung shrugs. He is the unit’s spatter analyst. In one latex covered hand, he holds a cotton swab and the other is pinching his nose. “There are traces of blood everywhere,” he repeats. “Yet I don’t see a single stain of red anywhere,” Jimin rubs his temples, “Are you telling me that the killer had enough time to wipe the whole room clean?” “I’m only telling you what science has told me,” Taehyung says. He carefully dances around another coworker to reach his open kit. It shuts with a loud snap and the younger turns back to look at his commanding officer. “Can I please get back to the lab? This smell is killing me.” Jimin can only wave half-heartedly at him before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. It is eight in the morning. They had received an anonymous call about fifteen minutes ago describing a horrific murder. The station had forwarded the call to him and after hearing the detailed account, he left the station with his team. “Fuck me. What in the world happened here?” a new voice enters the scene. It is too much even for him to handle this early in the morning. Jimin utters a “you tell me”, then excuses himself from the room. He pushes past the crowding officers and curious residents until he reaches the front of the hotel. There, his stomach dislodges everything it can. Even as he wipes his mouth, the black spots do not cease dancing in front of his eyes. Deeper in his vision, the picture is all too clear. She hangs from the ceiling with her arms stretched wide. Her feet are wrapped together in rope and her body is naked. Attached behind are two massive wings. The feathers have been stitched carefully together to create an impressive wingspan and if they were not speared into her back, Jimin may have thought they were beautiful. Yet there they were, dug into her shoulder blades, ripping into her muscle and tissue. That was not the centerpiece of it all. Missing from the body were all its abdominal organs. They had been ripped out, cut out… forensics would tell him how they were taken out, but they were gone. Replaced inside her was a large bouquet of red roses. They glistened in the sunlight and when the team had arrived, there were still dew drops on its velvety petals. The grotesque memory causes his body to expel its contents again. “Boss,” the voice from before returns, “You alright?” Jimin turns to face his partner. Namjoon stands in front of him, a worried expression which contorts his face. Namjoon is one of his only friends at the work force, being the only one similar in age. The other agents were all much older than him so with common interests, the two were naturally drawn to each other. Jimin liked Namjoon well enough. He was smart and quick on his feet. More than once, Jimin had reached out to Namjoon for advice, whether it be for work or personal life. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to see that this early in the morning,” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. He too has dark circles under his eyes and his lips were hardened into a thin, straight line. “Makes you imagine what a sick motherfucker could create this,” he comments. They stand in silence for a quick second until Namjoon speaks again, “What do you think we should do?” Jimin resumes his commanding role. “Take down the body. Have somebody sweep it thoroughly. Send a couple of the lab geeks in to scan the room. I want everything put into evidence, even if it’s a speck of dust. Everybody leaves something behind, and we will find it.” “What about the civilians? We’ve got a growing, curious crowd spreading like cancer.” “You’re Lieutenant. Do something about it,” Jimin light-heartedly teases Namjoon in his new role. Namjoon slightly flinches at the address. Although Namjoon had been promoted to a position higher than Jimin’s, Namjoon only ever treated him in the way they had always been working together: as partners. “Fuck me,” Namjoon curses with his favourite two words. Jimin grins. “Maybe later. I’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to get started back at the station. I’ll see you,” he pats his distracted friend’s shoulder. Taking a last scan of the building, Jimin strides towards his parked car. He is ready to hunt down the person who dared mess around in his town.

...

Jungkook watches the scene before him with mild interest. His ears pick up the voice of an officer that is instructing the crowd that everything is under control; to return to what they are doing without a worry. “What’s going on?” the housewife asks beside him. She is still in you pajamas and had seemed to wander out due to the hubbub. He smiles at her. “Murder.” She regards him with wide eyes. Her feet stumble backwards and she scurries away. The officer had finished his speech and the crowd was now dissipating. Jungkook took it as his cue to exit as well. As he walks out of the hotel, he feels vaguely irritated. At the end, his script is not perfectly carried out. He had needed to modify it slightly although the end result is what he had planned it to be. Even the timing of the police’s arrival after his call had been as he predicted. The world was too easy for him to guess. Now, it is time to return to Krystal. Even without using his vast knowledge of facial cues and body expressions, he knows exactly how she would react. Nostrils dilated, lower lid tensed, brows lowered and lower jaw jutting out. He reads her like a book and its title screamed “anger”. “Where were you all last night?” she questions, hands placed on her hips. He sighs while placing his jacket on the hanger at the entranceway. His feet ache as they pad across the tiles towards the bedroom. “I was out doing research. I told you yesterday,” he says. She bites her lip. When he walked past her, she could smell a faint hint of perfume mixed with a lemony clean scent like soap. Her jaws clench tighter. “Yes. But you had said you would be out late. You never said you’d be gone the entire night!” she follows him closely behind. He does not turn or wait for her. Once inside the bedroom, he throws off his shirt and pants, trudging to the showers. “Don’t you think you could have given me a call at least?” she asks. His figure is a faint silhouette through the shower curtain. She can see him scrubbing his face. She waits for him until the water is shut down and he steps out of the box. Water drips from his hair and his skin is still a flush pink from the heat. The room fills with steam and he brushes past her on the way out. Still, she relentlessly follows him. “Jeon Jungkook!” she calls out, “Say something!” He pulls out a new pair of boxers from the drawer and put them on. Once they snap against his waist, he turns to finally look at her. “I’m tired, and you’re annoying me. We’ll talk when I wake up,” he says. Tears sting her eyes but she cannot allow him to see any type of weakness. She whirls around on her heels and stalk out of the room, leaving him to himself. The door slams shut loudly behind her and makes his ears slightly ring. The sheets are cold and inviting on his body. The wrap around him like a silky cocoon and his eyes are heavy the instance he hits the pillow. There is only one last thing to do before he can allow his body to rest. With delicate fingers, he pries off the paper-thin gloves from his hands. They slide off smoothly and if there was an onlooker in the room at that moment, they would have been reminded of a snake that was shedding its skin. These are special gloves just for his hobbies. They disguise his hands so that they are void of fingertips. They are so lightweight he cannot feel them at all. They blend in with his body so perfectly, only the keenest of eyes would be able to notice the thin line above his wrist where the material ends. They are perfect for him and allow him to do what he does without a worry. He leaves the material out on the top of the drawer. He knows that Krystal would not be back in the room for a while so it is safe sitting there. They are like contact lenses, shriveling and drying up due to the exposure to air. In about fifteen minutes time, they would look like shrunken autumn leaves and be the size of a walnut. The room-keeper would find them if he had still not thrown them out, and discard them thinking they were candy wrappers. He lets his body drift into nothingness, content with the day’s work.

...

Besides having a good eye for detail, a coroner should be able to work under extremely stressful conditions. They could be asked to visit crime scenes, identify human remains or supervise the transportation of corpses. Working often behind the scenes, a coroner is an integral part to this unit. It is sad to say that we are low in numbers and are extremely interested in people joining our team! If you have taken subjects like biology, chemistry and forensics, in addition to law and humanities, we encourage you to apply to our graduate program! We would love to see you working beside us! Jimin’s eyes scan the announcement that has been placed on the door of the coroner’s office. He is scheduled for a meeting with the elder man on what may have been found and as a man of time, he is early for it. “Park! You’re here,” the coroner steps out of his office. He has patches of grey hair and a scruff of facial hair that he now scratches with his fingers. Dressed in his usual white lab coat, his black shoes peek out from beneath his pants and they lead the way towards the morgue. “How’s it going, Fernando?” Jimin greets back, “I see your wife has been feeding you well.” He eyes a popped button on the stomach of his coworker. Fernando laughs. It is loud and bounces off the white walls of the building. It is a laugh that is jolly and hearty; a strange sound to hear in the location they currently are. “Maria always has a full meal whenever I return home. I swear, she’s trying to fatten me up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” he chuckles. He and Maria, a linguistic analyst also working in the police force, had been married for years. They had invited nearly the whole station to their wedding and wanted to celebrate for another week before a case had dragged everyone back to work. The two turn a corner and the black door of the morgue greets their face. Fernando hands Jimin a pair of gloves and a mask before they enter the room. The body has already been laid on the table and labelled after Fernando’s inspection. “I’ve already submitted the full report. You’ll find it on your desk by tomorrow morning,” Fernando speaks with a muffled voice due to the mask. The material itches Jimin’s nose and he wrinkles it. His fingers carefully pick up the sheet that covers the body and he scans the female underneath. “You know I like to see the victims personally for each case. Do you mind giving me an overview?” he asks. The other man shrugs. This is not the first case he’s worked with Jimin. While he was not a hard man to work with, he was extremely meticulous – borderline obsessive – in details to the point that it was tiring and burdensome. “No signs of struggles. She evidently took care of her body and skin; probably went to the gym in the times between work. Besides the large opening on her abdomen, the rest of her is intact.” “What is missing from her?” “Mainly her digestive system and portions of her excretory system. Everything within her ribcage has been preserved and unmoved.” “So nothing out of the ordinary then.” “Aside from the gaping hole? No. My best guess is that she knew her attacker. Or if she didn’t, then she at least didn’t sense any danger from him.” “What makes you say that?” “I found seminal fluid in her body.” This new information made Jimin turn his attention away from the body and back to Fernando. He had finished circling the table while mentally confirming everything Fernando had been saying. “You’re suggesting our killer may have had intercourse with our victim then?” “Jane Doe, technically,” Fernando inserted, “We haven’t made an ID on her quite yet.” Jimin waved the comment away. “Maybe,” Fernando recognized Jimin’s piercing look, “I sent a sample of it to the lab geeks. It could be from the killer or it might be from when she last had sex.” Jimin knew how long these types of analyses could take. He didn’t want to wait several weeks for results so he told Fernando to put a rush on it. Fernando stood wordlessly and watched Jimin as he continued to encircle the body. Every so often, his fingers would reach out and lightly tap a part of the body. With each tick the clock on the wall made, it seemed to drive its sound into Fernando’s skull. When he could not take the silence any longer, he let out a cough. At the sound, Jimin remembers that he is not alone in the room. It happened every time he got absorbed in a case. He would become trapped in his own world and forget everything that was around him. “Sorry, Fernando. I’m going to be here a little longer. You’re free to leave. I’ll read the report tomorrow morning and if I have any more questions, I’ll find you again,” he dismisses him. Fernando bows politely and exits the room. High cheekbones, full lips and a perky nose. She was attractive enough to gain a few extra glances when she had walked down the street. Was that how she got the attention of the killer? That would make sense to why he maintained her facial features and took out her organs. Perhaps it was an interpretation of keeping her beautiful exterior shell. It could also explain why a bouquet of flowers was put inside her. Jimin shook his head. He was thinking too much. Who knew what went on in the mind of a killer? Well, besides the killer themselves. He observes her face a while longer and notices that it is not as perfectly symmetrical as he had initially thought. In fact, her right cheek bulged out in a way similar to after a person had their wisdom teeth pulled out. Bringing the overhanging light towards the mouth of the girl, he shines the light inside. There were a couple of metal tools that were placed on a tray nearby and Jimin used this to pry inside her mouth. He pushes aside the meat of her cheeks and peers at the gums. There was nothing unusual there. Something continues to urge him to look further so he turns his head slightly and checks the inner cheek. Deep at the bottom of the valley where muscle meets gums, he notices markings that stand out from the normal. He is unable to make out what they are and so he pushes away the bright light. Opting for a smaller flashlight, he drops the piercing ray of light to where he had been looking before. Four squiggles. 2-0-something-1. Or was that an I? He rotates his head further. The originally illegible third Jimin becomes an A, and the two looks more like an S at this angle. If these were letters, then the second Jimin could potentially be an “O”. The last symbol was still inconclusive as it could be either a one or “I”. Consumed with his new finding, Jimin nearly forgets to record the new information. It is not until a few seconds later that he then whips out his cellular phone and snaps a picture of it. He cannot decipher whether the symbols could be anything more than letters and numbers so he peels off his mask and throws it with the gloves into the trash bin. As he walks out of the coroner’s building and back to the main station, a feeling continues to burn in his gut. His intuition is telling him that there is something oddly familiar with what he had just saw. It wasn’t the girl or the markings themselves, but rather the position he had found them in. He felt like he had seen something like this before. He scratches his head the entire way back until he sits at his desk. That is when he remembers.

...

The light takes him by surprise from the slight crack of his curtains. Warmth from the afternoon sun hits him directly at the eyes and its rays creates a band that gives him the illusion akin to Cyclops from X-Men. He stretches and feels his muscles straining from last night’s activities. With a roll of his neck, he bounces off the bed and throws his legs onto the floor. The cold from being out of his blankets send a shiver down his spine that makes him curl his toes. Everything is strangely quiet around him. He does not hear the clatter of plates nor the running of water. There are no soft paddings from footsteps. The world is silent. He grabs a shirt from his suitcase and throws it over his head, bringing a small bit of warmth to his body. With each step around their hotel room he sees nothing. Her clothing is gone as with it her toothbrush and shoes. In fact, her entire suitcase has disappeared. With miniscule curiosity he returns back to the bedroom and unplugs his charging phone. There is one unread message and he opens it. “I know you’re tired but I don’t think that’s an excuse for your outburst this morning. Regardless, I will respect your need for personal space. I’m flying back to LA. I’ll see you when you return. – Krystal” Her words are curt and straight-forward. He reads her frustration between the words but doesn’t carry it with him. He knows she is waiting for an apology but he is too engrossed with his newfound freedom. He had not planned for the research on this trip to be completed with such speed and so his return train ride was not scheduled until the day after tomorrow. She will have to wait. He had a whole city to walk and sights to see. She will be waiting regardless. Ever so slightly he forms a smile with his lips. He walks over to the curtains and throws them open, allowing all the sunlight to enter his room. It bounces off the white sheets and covers the rug. Dust particles float around after being stirred from their slumber. With a hand pressed against the window, Jungkook peers down from the height of the hotel. He watches the automobiles that zoom beneath his gaze and traces the pathway of each person that passes by. It is a good day.

...

Fingertips graze her lips with a type of tenderness that sends small vibrations through her entire body. He holds her gaze and she peers shyly into his half-moon eyes. A smile dances on his face while she caresses his face with tremoring hands. He grabs them and holds it in his own. “You’re shaking,” he says with a light teasing tone. She wants to pull away but he holds them only stronger. He traces the lines on her palms to soothe her, but it only makes her shake all the more. “Is this real?” the question brushes your mouth much like the autumn wind rustling through leaves. It falls from your lips and floats gently to reach his ears. “Do you want this be real?” he asks you. His eyes never leave you, starting from the top of you forehead to trace to the tip of your nose and finally landing on your cherry stained lips. You faintly hear the sound of laughter in the background and the pattering of feet running but you are only consumed by the man who sits in front of you. Your nod is but a slight shift of your head. He smiles at you and cups your face in the warmth of his hands. Pressing his lips affectionately on yours, you inhale and take in everything from him. “I love you, Y/N” he confesses with all of his heart. You can feel your heart tugging towards him as he stands and offers a hand. You take it and he lightly pulls you to his feet. A rush overcomes you and suddenly, he seems taller than you remember. You look down and sees him standing a few centimeters off the ground. Your brows furrow and you peer up at him again. He has turned and is now starting to run forward. “C’mon, let’s go!” he calls back towards you. You try to move your feet but they only propel you forward while he runs upward into the vast blue sky. “Hyun!” you cry, reaching out to him. He doesn’t seem to hear you but you see laughter bursting forth from his mouth. “You’ll have to run faster or you won’t catch up!” Pressing your feet firmly on the ground, you push off but gravity brings you back down. “Hyun, I can’t! I can’t get into the sky like you!” He has now risen further than ever, growing smaller in your vision. “C’mon, Y/N! Come fast, before you can’t catch up!” his voice is faint but you hear him calling to you. You run forward faster than ever but you are never able to leave the ground. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes in frustration at the fact that you are behind him. “Hyun, don’t leave me!” you scream between your sobbing, “Baekhyun!” Your dream is shattered at the sound of metal clattering to the floor. You are jolted awake and your heart bolts at the sudden sound. The metal can which held your wet paintbrushes were now spread across the floor after falling from the table. Your friend stands at the door with an embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” she says, bringing a finger from her forehead towards you in apology. You feel the rise in your heart rate. You conceal it by slowly getting up out of you seat and rolling you head to get rid of the kink. Together, both you and Min clean up the mess off the floor from where she had knocked over the art supplies. “Are you okay?” Min asks softly, not quite meeting your eyes as the two of you straighten out the other half completed canvases which balance precariously on the table. You blink in confusion, causing a tear to roll down your cheek. You reach up and brush it with your fingers. They return wet and tinged with green. You let out a small laugh. “I slept on paint again, didn’t I?” you muse. You and Min are standing at the art studio where you had spent all last night in. Your completed painting stands at the corner and Min walks over to it. Min tries to read what you are thinking, but the other has her head turned away. “You stayed here all night to complete this?” Min inspects the painting closer. It depicts a girl standing shyly in front of a boy against a background of red, pink and purple. The boy had his back towards the observer and he stood with his hands behind him holding a bouquet of flowers. The painting showed an innocent love between the two but when Min squinted her eyes, you noticed two circles that were put on the back of the coat the boy was wearing. Min raises an eyebrow and points it out to you. “Are those bullet holes?” You in the meantime had stood hypnotized in front of the painting. A strange feeling is stirring in your heart as you look at what you had painted. It brought forth the memory of Baekhyun standing in front of you with flowers after their first date. It led to the memory of your first shy kiss after. It made you remember the pain you felt from your dream. Another tear perches at the corner of your eye and you turn to brush it angrily away. Min is still standing in front of you, now watching you with concern. She could guess why you are crying and trying so hard to mask it. You had only ever shed tears for one person and this painting brought back the reminder that this person was no longer around you. “I’m not sure what that is,” you laughs nervously, “It was quite late last night. My mind does weird things when I am sleep deprived.” Without further explanation, you grab your bag and head out before any other memory can shake you. “I’m going home to shower,” you say without looking back, “Sorry about the mess of the studio. I’ll be back later to clean it.” Your last words choke and you escape before Min can see the tears that fall consciously down your cheeks this time.

...

3. 2. 1. Boom. Making the entrance of the century, the three horses gallop into the square where the three beings are strapped on. White. The stallion neighs and throws his head back, unsure of where to go next. But a loud snap makes it head to the right and it brings its hooves down on the ground. Its rider’s body has been punctured with holes and the smell that emits from it is horrendous. For the first horsemen is called Pestilence. Red. Its mane has been dipped in the blood of its enemy. It limps as the giant beast follows in step behind the stallion, a battle scar from its recent fight. His rider flails at a sharp right turn, causing the spear attached at the arm to clash with the helmet. For the second horsemen is called War. Black. The man is but naked, showing his skin pulled taut over the ribcage and bones. He carries the pair of scales with his stomach plastered on one end and the other tipped with bread. For the third horsemen is Famine, but this man can no longer fill his hunger seated upon the black horse. There is a final horseman. The fourth’s name is Death. But why does it need to exist, when it is so very much alive in the other three? Excerpt: Written - Three Horsemen Everything from his desk was moved into the presentation room that allowed him more space to work. Papers of the current case overlap with the papers from the older file. They are grouped in a way only the creator can understand and it is Jimin who stands before it. Picking at his lips with a hand, his foot taps rhythmically on the floor as he continues to scan what he has laid out in front of him. He knew something had been bothering him since he returned from the morgue. Now it was clear. He had remembered a case he had taken part of when he had been temporarily stationed in Los Angelos. The case had remained unsolved but the victim was similar to his Jane Doe. In that case, the man had TH3C scratched into the inner part of his cheek. Matching the picture he had taken earlier to the picture in the old file, they were even scratched in the same place. After digging around a little more, he found two other cases that were similar. It could be coincidence but if they were all related, this was not a simple kill any longer. They had a serial killer in their hands. However there is trouble with the cases. Besides the one he is holding, the other three are from Los Angeles. He technically no longer had any jurisdiction over them. Jimin was contemplating on calling up his colleague when his own phone interrupts his thought process. He answers the phone promptly. “Hello?” “Jimin?” your timid voice reaches his ears. His name uttered from you relaxes his tense shoulders. “Hey. What’s up?” He can hear shuffling from your side as you think about what to say. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. You didn’t return home last night.” “I went home for a bit but was called out pretty early for a case this morning. Wait, how did you know I didn’t go home?” “Ah… Well, I’m standing in front of your place right now.” “Why are you doing that?” He can basically hear your body language through the phone. You are gnawing on the inside of you cheek and probably tugging at your shirt, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I forgot my keys again. I thought that you might be home and I could use your shower.” Laughing at how sheepish your voice is, he says to you, “That tells me you slept over at the studio again. And very likely have paint on your face.” “Hey!” you huff, “I don’t wake up with paint on my face every single time!” “But you did this time, didn’t you?” he continues teasing you. You mutter something unintelligible, causing him to laugh at you again. “Unfortunately, I can’t step out of the office but if you don’t mind stopping over, I’ll hand you my keys.” You agree to his proposal and tell him that you’ll be there in twenty. Once their call ends, he chuckles silently to himself. You never seemed to change. When he and Baekhyun were roommates, there were multiple times he’d return home and find you standing outside their flat. You would tell him the same story of how you forgot your keys and of whether you could wash up at their place. And each and every time you would have a blotch of paint on you face where you had fallen asleep at the studio. He had teasingly got you face wash in a paint bottle for your birthday a long time ago as a joke. The last time he went over to your place, he had seen it standing in your room. His mind continues to wander to memories of his college days with Baekhyun and you until he is interrupted by Namjoon. “Whoah. What do you have going on here?” he asks, stepping towards the multitude of papers. Jimin takes this break to grab himself a new cup of coffee as the one sitting to the side had long since turned cold. “I was at the morgue earlier and discovered something strange. It reminded me of an old case,” he told Namjoon. Namjoon flipped through a couple of the pages but he was not as patient as Jimin to read through all the details. He scrunched up his nose and breezed past Jimin again. “I wanted to tell you we have a name for our Jane Doe,” Namjoon said, leaning against the doorframe. He is actually quite impressed at what Jimin has discovered in the span of the short time since they discovered the body this morning. Generally, he was impressed with how fast the department had gathered information. Perhaps as this was their biggest case in a while, the team as a whole was interested in solving it as soon as they can. “Sara Michel,” Namjoon continues on, “Female. 25. From Los Angeles. She’s a fine arts curator. She was in town for a meeting with the local museum about transferring a couple of new sculptures over. It’s been confirmed that the room we found her in this morning is the room her company booked for her while she was town.” “Los Angeles,” Jimin repeats. His eyes dart to the papers. Again, their neighbouring city is mentioned. “Yeah. What of it?” Namjoon picks up on Jimin’s sudden interest. He watches as the other walks over to the piles of paper and brings up a folder. “The old case I was talking about,” Jimin says, “It was from when I worked in LA last summer. A bit unusual that Ms. Michel is from there, don’t you think?” Namjoon scratches his chin. “Well, LA is a big city. And we’re only a train ride away….” Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Something weird is going on here.” Somebody outside the room yells out for Namjoon. He groans and Jimin throws him a sympathetic look. Jimin never told Namjoon, but before Namjoon was offered the promotion as lieutenant, Jimin had been approached by the captain. He had declined the position as he knew all the responsibilities that came with the new role. Besides, he enjoyed working as a detective; it allowed him hands-on access to all cases. “I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find,” Namjoon says as he turns to leave. Jimin replies, “Same here.” “Alright, well see you around. If I don’t get lost amongst all the conferences I have to start pulling…” his voice trails off as he exits with a dejected curve of his back.

...

“Hi,” your voice interrupts his nap. After Namjoon had left, Jimin had sat down at the desk fully planning to do some more research. However, his fatigue got the better of him and he ended up dozing off. He rubs his eyes sleepily and rises to greet you. You urge him to sit back down. You may have spent the night at the studio, but you looked more put together than he was. Dressed in the first pair of jeans he could find and an old tshirt, he was in a contrast to your outfit. You wore a pair of black and white polka-dotted overall shorts that you paired with a slim fit quarter sleeved shirt inside. A necklace hung around your neck, and you had thrown your hair into a messy bun. Tendrils of hair had fallen out, but it framed your face giving you an overall effortless but fresh look. Walking up to him, you sit gently at the edge of the table while he remains seated to your side. He gently reaches up and smudges the shadow of green paint on your face. “What a way to greet me,” you pout. He smiles at you, then yawns and stretches. Remembering why you had arrived, he rummages through his pocket and retrieves the key to his apartment for you. You thanked him for it and then rotate in your spot to take in the entire room. You were similar in this way, where the two of you had an eye for minute details. It intrigues you to see the pictures that had been laid out. It is true that they are morbid but being around Jimin all these years had made you accustomed to seeing images of a crime scene. “Are you going to be coming home tonight?” you ask him. Your back is still turned towards him as you walk up and study a picture up close. He walks up to you and stands behind. You were looking at the picture of the markings on one of the victims. “TH3C,” you whisper. “No,” his voice rumbles from behind you, “This case is pretty big. I’ll most likely be spending the night here.” You spin in your spot to face him again and your noses nearly touch. He stumbles and takes a step back at the close proximity. A frown starts to crease your forehead and you nervously chews on your fingernail. “What is it?” he sighs. It takes him a moment to gather himself while the scent of you lingers around him. “I feel bad that I’m barging into your place again,” you mumble, “What if I bring you dinner tonight?” “There’s no need. I’ll order take out from nearby. Besides, you’re always welcome at my place. It’s not a bother.” “Jimin…” He sighs, defeated. “Sure. I’ll wait for your meal.” You delightedly clap your hands together. “Perfect! I’ll make your favourite dish tonight! How does carbonara sound?” Nodding he feels the usual smile that appears around you on his face. It was strange. Before you came, he had nearly fainted with tiredness but now that you were here, it was like you had transferred you energy to him. “I’ll see you again tonight, then!” you quip animatedly. Taking his keys off the desk and into your pocket, you makes your way towards the door before stopping again. “TH,” you begin, “It makes me think of Three Horsemen.” “What’s that?” he asks you, distracted by the thought of delicious homemade food. “Three Horsemen. Remember the novel I was reading? It was just a random thought. And then maybe the number three for the third one? I don’t know what “C” would mean though. Perhaps it’s the horsemen from set C,” you continue to ramble on. You notice that Jimin is now staring at you with an intense gaze. You wave your hand in front of you, as if the simple action would cause you thoughts to magically disappear as well. “Forget what I said. I’m an artist,” you laugh nervously, “Besides if it was a set C, there would be a set B and A. And that would make… nine total kills. My mind is just overactive with the books I’m reading.” Jimin laughs nervously along with you. But inside, he mentally makes a note to investigate the possibility of what you have said, however miniscule that may be. You thank him once again for his hospitality and wave him good bye. When he is left alone again, he sinks back into his seat. It makes his bottom ache as he had been seated for a while, so he paces the room. Three Horsemen – Third Horsemen – Set C. TH3C. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to draw. It was scary to imagine though. Eight other victims that were not found. His thoughts are interrupted once again when the phone in the room rings. Namjoon is on the other end when Jimin picks up. “We found a witness.”

...

next part

40 notes · View notes

trashgoblin81 · 4 years ago

Text

A Friendly Visit

Summary: Harry and Y/N get it on in there friend’s bathroom

Warnings: Smut, Cussing, etc

It all started when I got a call from one of my closest friends. Ella called me to tell me that she had gotten a new house with her husband, Jake, and she wanted to know if Harry and I would be interested in taking a house tour, of course i agreed.

So when we lost track of time, i grabbed the first thing that i was nice looking to wear. It was a red sundress that stopped right below my knees and made my ass look nice.

“Harry we are going to be even more late if you don’t get your ass down here!” I screamed up the stairs to our little white house with green walls. And when Harry finally got down the stairs he gave me a look, I just brushed it off, I didn’t have time for him to tell me to change. I grabbed the keys to the car, “Lets go.” I said.

When we arrived at this big house, i couldn’t believe my eyes. It had to be a two story mansion. It was brown, with a green tin roof. When i stepped put the car, I saw Ella and Jake standing right in front.

“ I thought you said it was a house?!?” I said surprised.

Ella turned around and gave me a smile. She walked over to Harry, she gave Harry a hug first and then gave me a hug and said “I’m glad you guys could make it”

Jake then walked over and shook Harry’s hand. “ How’s it going mate?” Harry asked as Jake gave me a hug.

“It’s going good, here come with me, let me show you the bar in the back” Jake said while starting around to the back of the house. Harry gave me one last look and then followed him.

I stood right beside Ella. “This is beautiful! And Huge” I said. Ella started to walk into the house.

“It was expensive, but most definitely worth it.”She said opening the door for me. When i walked in I was met with the sight of a big chandler and dark hardwood floors. The walls were painted white and blue.

“Holy Shit” I said, this place was breath taking. To the right there was the kitchen and to the left was the living room. Right in-front of me was the stairs, right against the wall, they lead to the bathrooms and bedrooms.

“right, let me show you the kitchen!” Ella said taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. We walked in and it was pretty, it had marble counters and a huge fridge.

We heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. “It’s very pretty guys, I really like it.” I heard Harry say as i walked around to the back of the counter.

“Thank you-Oh shoot, Jake can you come to the bedroom with me, I think that picture is in there, i want to give it to Harry while it is still on my mind.” Ella said while dragging Jake out of the room.

I started to look at the counter top, it was a really pretty house. I suddenly got the felling that i was being watched, when i looked up i met the green eyes of my boyfriend. He gave me a look that he usually gave me when he was horny.

“Really? Now?” I whispered to him. He came over to me and put his hands on my ass.

“It’s honestly not my fault that this dress makes your ass look fantastic-” He said, then he slapped my ass.

I gasped,”Harry, n-no, what if they hear?” I asked as i started to feel my panties get wet.

“That hasn’t stopped you before, love, remember when we were at my parents house and-”

“Yes i remember, but i was really loud and we almost got caught-oh fuck me” I interrupted him as he put his hand in my panties.

“Yeah, looks like someone wants me. What if i put my hand over your mouth? Made you quiet while i ruin this little pussy?”Harry said. That made my knees weak. He smirked, he knew just how to tease me. I felt him stick two fingers inside me.

“F-fucking shit, Fine, fine!” I whispered, not wanting to be too loud. That is when we heard them coming back. Harry took his hand out of my panties as fast as he could. “Follow my lead.”

“I swear it was up there?” Ella said looking at Jake then Harry.

“That’s fine, i have to use the bathroom.” I said as I looked at Harry hoping that he would catch on.

“Of course, once you walk up the stairs, it will be the first entrance on the left.” Ella said.

I looked at Harry as i walked out the kitchen and made my way over to the stairs. I followed Ella’s instructions and made it to the bathroom. The bathtub was fairly big. There was a walk-in shower right after you walked in, there were two sinks and the toilet was about 2 feet from the tub.

i heard someone knock on the door. “Who is it?” I said then the door opened and Harry walked in and shut the door quickly. “What did you tell them?” I said

“Some lame ass excuse.” Harry said as he lunged at me. Once he got his hands on me he kissed me with a passion and stuck his hands back down my panties and stuck his fingers back inside me. He pushed me up against the bathroom door as i let out a moan.

“Shh, We don’t want them to hear us do we?” I moaned even louder. Harry took his hands out of my panties and i took the opportunity to turn around and pull my panties and bend over the counter.

“Just fuck me already, Styles!” I said. He pulled his pants down and line up with my pussy and pushed into me with a hard and fast rhythm.

He felt so fucking good. “F-fuck me!” I nearly screamed and grabbed the counter to hold me steady. Harry put his hand over my mouth and went faster.

“Shhh, What did I say kitten, Unless you want them to hear us?” I clamped down on his cock, at the thought of them walking in on us. “You naughty little thing. You like the thought of them catching us? You like the thought of them coming in and watching me pound into the tight little pussy of mine?” My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he started pounding into me.

“Oh fuck, Im gonna cum kitten, your gonna make me cum, cum with me baby.” Harry whispered in my ear while using his free hand to rub my clit. I felt my stomach start to tighten.

“That’s it kitten, cum on me, cum for daddy” I lost it, I came so hard my legs started to shake, Harry was right behind me, burying his head in my neck so he wouldn’t make that much noise as i felt his cum paint my walls.

I stood up and made eye contact with him in the mirror. we were both breathing heavily, “we should clean up, they are probably wondering whats going on.” I said.

A/N: here is another Smut that i wrote, please give me feedback if you can

#harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles imagine #quiet #nearly getting caught #hornyhoe

259 notes · View notes

mediocre--writing · 4 years ago

Note

Will sees Billy kind of like a father/ another parental figure (bcoz fuck lonnie). He has Jonathan of course (and Hopper and Steve), but Billy is the one who teaches him how to play basketball, change a tire, throw a punch, etc. a lot of stuff fathers in the 80’s would generally teach their kids

will has a hard time adjusting to changes in his life.

when his father first left, even though he was a piece of shit, it was weird to lose him. he got so used to the occasional affection that he grew to miss that fatherly figure.

jonathan was still a kid, too. he was dealing with their dad leaving as well, and he didn’t need the responsibility of acting like a dad to will.

joyce was amazing, but she’s a helicopter mom. she’s tactical and confident, but in a mom way, and there’s just some things a woman can’t teach her son as well as a man can (the puberty talk was scarring, to say the least)

bob was kind, bob gave will a chance and didn’t look at him any differently, and will thought that maybe, just maybe he could get a father figure out of him, but we all know what happened with that.

then steve came into their small group, but when and dustin had a very close relationship and steve didn’t care to interact with the other kids.

hopper was kind and amazing, but he didn’t have a super close connection with will. he just wasn’t openly warm and fuzzy and they just didn’t connect.

it shouldn’t have been anyone but lonnie’s responsibility to be will’s dad, but he still wanted someone to fill that hole in his heart, left shattered after the first time lonnie called him gay for crying.

and will wasn’t expecting jack shit out of billy. he was loud and obnoxious and crude and selfish and will wanted nothing to do with the californian.

until the day their av club ran late and, as all the boys were picked up, max and will were the only ones left standing on the steps.

billy’s car was sitting in the high school parking lot, among others, who were staying after for basketball practice or other extra curriuculars.

but jonathan’s car wasn’t there and his mom had the late shift and will wasn’t allowed to ride his bike to school anymore, a stern rule from his mom.

max was waiting on the steps of the middle school since billys practice went until 5:00 and there was still a good ten minutes, plus she didn’t want to leave will alone

when billy eventually came strutting out of the school to his car, 10 minutes later than usual, will was still waiting with max.

“do you need a ride? i can force billy to take you home,” max gave a sheepish smile

“do you think he’ll get mad?”

max shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner before starting to walk down the sidewalk to billy

will followed a step behind and overthought this whole situation. he wasn’t all to sure he wanted to be in a car with the guy who almost ran the party over.

but he had to get home somehow.

“billy, will needs a ride home,” max said, as if there was no room for questioning.

“doesn’t your group ride bikes?”

“i got driven to school today,” wills said, almost inaudibly

billy sighed and took a drag of his cigarette before giving max a glare, then getting into his car, meaning max won the argument.

billy was mean but he’s been left at school because of a careless parent one too many times before getting his liscence.

billy asked only twice which way to go, because he’d only ever driven there from the wheelers, not the school (which was in the opposite direction from the wheelers, but just a mile or two farther than the hargrove-mayfield home)

billy flinched at each rock hit the side of his car as he drove down the bumpy dirt road that led to the byers, cursing at the work he would have to do to clean his car later.

will, who was patiently sat in the back, unbuckled before the car fully stopped an max was getting out, leaning the seat foreward, and letting will go into his house.

billy rolled down the window before will walked in, “hey kid!”

will turned to look at billy cautiously, raising his eyebrows in question

“if you ever need another ride home, i’m expecting you to wash my car after!”

will looked at the car, seeing how muddy the wheels and bottom few inches of the car had gotten compared to the pristine condition of the rest of his car

he nodded and billy rolled up his window, waiting until will got inside before driving away.

max snickered from the passenger seat, “you’re such a softie,”

“am not,”

“i doubt will’s ever washed a car in his life,”

“seriously?” billy raised an eyebrow, glancing over to max

she shrugged, “don’t know,”

two or so months later, billy has developed a routine of driving will home every other tuesday, when joyce and jon are too busy to pick him up.

this one particular tuesday, however, max is home sick, so it’s just going to be the two of them

billy doesn’t see it as being so bad. the av club ends about half an hour before basketball practice does, so will and max usually wait by the car, and when billy walks out, will is looking down at one of his tires

as he gets closer, billy sees that his tire was slashed and completely flat by now, he puffed out a breath angrily as he got closer, and will flinched as he heard billy

“i didn’t do it, i swear, billy—“

“yeah, i know you didn’t do it, kid,”

billy takes a moment to push his anger to that little dark spot in his mind before unlocking his trunk, where he kept a spare tire and car jack

“what’s that?” will asked, referring to the car jack

“what? you’ve never changed a tire before?”

will shook his head no.

billy instructed him to put his bag in the car, then showed will how to position the car jack, then get the car up, then remove and replace the tire.

will’s eyes lit up as he helped billy out the new tire on, never having had a person show him classic-guy things like this. jon just would have called a service or something.

it didn’t end there, though. will started to really enjoy billys company.

he was rough and tough around the edges but very patient with will and understood that he didn’t have much experience in normal life things.

billy even offered to teach will how to shoot a basketball one day when practice was running behind.

it’s not until winter falls into spring that billy teaches will another fantastic life skill.

will comes trudging to the car with max one day in march, head bowed and hoodie covering his face.

billy and max have a silent conversation of ‘what’s up with will’ and ‘don’t ask’

billy doesn’t see it until he’s driving down the road to will’s house and looks in his rear view mirror. there’s a big, blue/red/purple mark on his cheek.

it takes every ounce of power in billy’s body to not track down and kill an 8th grader. but he’s better than that.

as wills getting out of the car to go to his house, billy gets out too, tells max to stay in the car.

“what happened?”

will sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn’t hide it forever, “troy, he’s a dick in my grade and just, hit me today, its not a big deal,”

will looked so dejected at the recap of his day that billy almost hugged him. almost. he had a reputation to upkeep, you know.

“so did you hit him back?”

“i probably would have hurt my hand more than his face if i tried,”

“you don’t know how to punch?”

“do you really think my mom would have taught me how?”

“good point,” billy nodded, taking a moment of silence to think, “are you doing anything this sunday?”

will’s face scrunched up, but he shook his head no. billy had a wicked grin growing on his face.

“perfect. i’m going to teach you how to hit that piece of shit back. i’ll pick you up sunday at one, sound good?”

before will could get a word in, billy was turned around and walking back to the car.

the saturday meet-up wasn’t as bad as wills thought it was gonna be.

billy had picked him up, one on the dot, and driven them out to the old junkyard, bringing a pillow and his toolbox out with him.

he held a pillow to his chest and looked at will. “hit me,”

“what?”

“you wont hurt me, but i brought the pillow so now you especially can’t hurt me, so do it. hit me!”

will gave a weak punch and billy corrected him from there. moved his thumb so he wouldn’t hurt himself, changed the approach, and showed him how to get more power into his hits.

will was a pro by the end of the hour.

“so what’s the toolbox for?” will asked as they were sitting on the hood of a rusty, old car, taking a break

“ahh, the fun part of the afternoon, you mean,”

will raised an eyebrow and watched as billy pulled out a crowbar from the box, handing it to will

“what am i doing with this?”

“hit the car,” billy looked way too excited for this.

when will didn’t move, billy’s shoulders sagged.

“look, it’s therapeutic and these are all dump cars anyway, just start hittin’ it!”

will did, he hit a junky, old, red car as hard as he could and was elated by the huge dent that was pushed in as a result.

“there you go! do it again!” billy encouraged

will did. he hit the car over and over and over.

billy was right, it was therapeutic. every time he had an angry thought, be it about his dad or his bullies, he hit the car and a string that kept him all tied up snapped.

will didn’t even realize he was slowing down until his muscles stopped moving and he had his arms hanging to his sides, crowbar still grasped tightly in his hand.

“feel good?” billy asked, walking closer and taking the crowbar, putting it in the toolbox and locking it, then picking up it and the pillow.

“feels good,” will nodded

billy motioned for will to start walking to where he’d parked the car, only a bit away, so they could go home.

“thank you,” will said as they were driving down the road, music quieter than billy usually played it and a peaceful silence between the two

“what for?”

“doing this... like, manly stuff, i guess. i never knew how to punch or change a tire or play sports before, and it’s been cool hanging out with you,”

will has his whole body turned towards billy (who was peaking glances at him while keeping his eyes on the road).

“i’m glad i can help you out kid. i used to get pushed around a lot, believe it or not, and i wish someone had helped me out and i didn’t have to go it alone, ya know?”

will nodded, glancing out the window and seeing that they were pulling onto his street.

“i’m glad i get to help you out, kid.” billy reached the end of the driveway and parked the car, “let me know if you ever... need a ride to the arcade or something, ok? never be afraid to ask.”

will thanked him again and pushed the door open, going into his house, listening to the camaro’s engine rev after he’d shut the door.

he hadn’t ever had a stable father figure, and he knew billy was too young to be his dad in any sense, but doing things like this made the gap in his heart grow smaller and smaller every day.

because who needs a dad when you’ve got billy hargrove?

#stranger things #billy hargrove #will and bill(y)#will and billy #mediocre—writing #will byers #harringrove

60 notes · View notes

whumpbby · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! So this is kind of a random ask, but I know you have beta fish, and I’m considering getting one. I’ve had beta fish in the past, and despite educating myself on how to take care of them they haven’t lived very long, so I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me. For my past beta fish, I keep them in a five gallon tank (for clarification, I never had more than one beta fish at a time. So I didn’t have multiple of them in the tank don’t worry—they just all lived at different times in the same tank) that had a filter with a pretty low flow on it. I never saw any of the fish have problems swimming with it on. I always used a highly rated water purifying product for the tank water (I forgot what it’s actually called) and I never had any sharp plants that would hurt their fins. I fed them a little every two days because I heard that feeding them everyday was bad for them. Do you happen to know what I was doing wrong? It was frustrating for me because I put a lot of effort into keeping them alive and healthy and then I would see people who kept them in small half gallon bowls have their fish outlive mine. It’s been a couple years, and I want to get another, but I don’t want to accident hurt/kill another one. How do you care for your beta fish? Do you have any advice? Sorry about the rant, but I follow you for your Jason content and happened to stumble upon some of you fish posts and need help. Thanks so much for reading this, and if you do end up offering any advice, I want to thank you for that too!

Hi dear, sorry if I took long to answer - tumblr notoriously does not inform me of messages>>

I understand your pain - especially that the situation with bettas is very frustrating. They tend to suffer from quite a few genetic defects (they are prone to tumours, for example) and are a very abused fish in the aquatic industry. Oftentimes by the time they will get to a caring and dedicated owner, they’ve already went through a lot:0 We just don’t know how healthy the fish is before we got it.

I am by no means an expert, I have lost a few babies since I started the hobby a couple years ago and I can only assume what a few of them suffered from:( One thing that seems to work is leaving them and the tank alone for as long as you can once it’s all set up and cycled and running - apart form the regular maintenance. I am a chronic fiddler who needs to change and add plants, filters, etc, so I constantly have to hold myself back form doing things to the tank. My sister has the same betta for a second year now and the only thing she does with her tank is water changes once every couple weeks - and both him and a thousand of cherry shrimp that live there thriveXD

Some things I nowadays pay attention to that may be useful, however, are:

- water temp has to be consistent, on the warmer side. I keep mine at 26-27C (I don’t know how much that is in F, sorry>>). To that effect the tank needs a lid - it will trap the warm air, protecting the betta form inhaling cold air then they come up for a breath. They labyrinth breathing organ is quite sensitive to that.

- I feed my boys twice a day, so I am not a part of the ‘feed them little’ club. I give them a little pinch of the good flake in the morning (Bug Bites is nice) and a 3-4 granules of a King Betta or a pinch of a protein-rich micro pellets in the evening. A betta breeder I talked to a couple times advised that it’s better to feed the boys a couple times a day in small quantities rather than once - keeps their digestive tracts working and they can avoid constipation. Constipation happens often with bettas and is a headache to solve. I leave frozen bloodworms for special occasions and just rotate the dry foods for variety.

- I change water every week - and every other week make sure to vacuum gravel the substrate. In the planted tanks I vacuum only about 2-3cm of the top layer to not disturb planting substrate below and not to suck up any shrimp, so it’s a gentle operation. In the gravel where there is no growing substrate I go deep - the reason being that I want to free any possible air bubbles stuck underneath where bad bacteria may grow.

- Pick a filter and stick to it. I was very bad at that, but I finally managed to hotwire a combo that seems to work so I will stick to it;) If you can stand the noise, I advise a sponge filter - it’s so easy to clean and manageTT If you can’t stand the hum of the air pump and the bubbles, I recommend a matten filter - or hotwiring an internal filter to a sponge filter - like so - instruction in German, but the visuals are very self-explanatory;] I used gel superglue to connect the filterhead to a sponge filter and now all I have to do once a month or rarer is to pull the sponge off and squeeze it few times in the used tank water! And sometimes clean the showerhead from algae;] It saves you so much money on the cartridges (corner sponge filters are a couple £/$ and last years) and provides extra filtration. My shrimps also eat off it;]

- get a snail. Seriously, I have a snail in every tank - a single nerite will do best for a 5gal. They don’t breed in sweet water, don’t grow large and will keep your glass clean for you - I have not cleaned my tanks’ glass since... ever>> Joe I and Joe II do it for meXD They also provide company for the betta and something fun to look at. And he will scarf uneaten food form the gravel.

- I assume you know about the nitrogen cycle, so I will not bore you here about bacteria and such. But a best chance of saving the betta form stress when you get him home is a cycled tank. You can get an ammonia testing set - or, if you find that a bit intimidating (I do for some reason) you can go to an aquarist shop and they will check your water for you. My local store in town does it for free. I am not sure about big box stores, tho. If you see something being wrong with the betta, check water and see if it needs to be changed asap.

- water changes are mandatory and have to be regular. A 5gal is a convenient size - I am using a 5l bottle left over from mineral water as a measuring tool;) This way I know I am always changing roughly 1/4th of the tank’s water. It’s very easy to see how much water I removed and how much I have to put back in - I can control the water temp and add dechlotinator/vitamins etc before it goes into the tank, so I do not shock my critters with too hot or too cold water. The rule I practice is leaving the dechlorinator in the bottle for about 10 mins before pouring it all into the tank.

- you don’t have to be intimidated by planted tanks:) A little bunch of anubias on a stick is often enough to start with and a good look for a tank, in my opinion. It also makes for a more natural space for the betta he will certainly appreciate. The less fancy stuff the better - I got my first natural rocks form the side of the road (ofc I boiled the life out of them before they got even close to the tank) and they are usually quite cheap on amazon. A stick with a plant and a rock and some small-size gravel is often enough to look good. The plants will also help with eating up nitrites and keeping the water healthy.

- goodness, what else. Medicaiton. Ok. I have tried many meds for my boys and once the fish is in a bad way not much will help, form my experience :( My med set consists of Melafix - I add it to water according to instructions whenever I see my betta without appetite or acting off. It’s a mild anti-bacterial mixture that does not affect snails/shrimp. If that does not help, I use eSHa 2000 or eSHa Exit - they are two very comprehensive meds that deal with a variety of problems. I have never used aquarium salt, but some people swear by it - there’s no specific reason I don’t use it, I just never got around to it.

This is all the chaotic advice, but things to remember (I am not trying to be condescending, I just don't know how much you know;]) are: cycled tank, regular water changes&filter maintenance, consistent temperature and quality food. Bettas are hardy little suckers, but sometimes they are also frail in ways we can’t see until it’s too late. I am already seeing a tumour growing on one of my boys and there is nothing I can do about it except giving him the best life I can - he is still going strong, but I know he will probably not last to the end of the year. It’s a hobby that sometimes seems thankless, but if you do everything right, even if they leave early, at least you’ve given them a good and peaceful time before that:)

If I you have any more questions or just want to share woes, feel free to message, I will do my best to answer:)

#bettas #fishkeeping #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 4

Well, here we are. We’ve reached the part of the oof!au where Vader stops playing around. MAJOR warnings for this (and all subsequent) parts of the oof!au. Specific to this one: branding, torture, non-con. Dead dove, do not eat, etc. Please consider the warnings before reading.

(Oof!au general information: Post-Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. One-side Vaderwan.)

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

Things weren’t going the way Vader had planned. He’d imagined, for three years, exactly what would happen once he got Obi-Wan under his control. He’d dreamed about the way his old Master would break, fall apart, realizing the true extent of his failure. He had relished the idea of proving that he had been, all along, the stronger of them.

Obi-Wan, damn him, seemed intent on ignoring the reality of his situation. He would not shut up, wouldn’t even use Vader’s proper title, not even after multiple sessions, before Vader was called away to handle a problem on Ryloth.

Vader was supposed to be getting information from Obi-Wan. About the rebels. About anything. Vader hadn’t managed that yet. He kept getting… distracted.

According to the reports generated by the clones and droids that guarded Obi-Wan in his absence, his old master spent his time meditating and performing different exercises in his little cell. Apparently he tried to speak with them, his minders.

Vader smiled at the thought, beneath his helmet. Obi-Wan had ever prided himself on his silver tongue. Well, nothing he said would improve his situation back on Mustafar. He could plead and cajole and beg as much as he wanted.

It would be like pleading with gravity.

The time spent on Ryloth helped Vader decide on a course going forward, in any case. He considered it after the rebels managed to tear his suit, revealing some of the ruined flesh beneath, gone almost bone pale after so long hidden under leather. He could not bear to look at the rippled scars left behind by the burns, shuddering even as he killed the rebels who had dared--

He had obviously been approaching the situation incorrectly, snagged on the small matter of his name. Obi-Wan could be stubborn about it, if he wanted. He’d learn. Vader would teach him.

And, while he was receiving his instruction, Vader could repay him, in full, for everything he’d done.

The last of the wounds and bruises across Obi-Wan’s skin had faded by the time Vader returned from the campaign. He wondered, walking through his base, if Obi-Wan had realized yet where they were; the temperature controls within the base kept out the volcanic heat, in any case, and cut off from the Force… it was possible he did not. Vader could fix that. Wanted to fix that.

Memories pushed that thought aside as he moved deeper into his fortress. He remembered, so clearly, returning form a campaign, making it back to Coruscant and heading directly to Padmé’s apartments, being greeted with a sweet embrace and sweeter kisses, his beautiful wife who had loved him beyond everything else in the galaxy, until Obi-Wan had turned her against him.

His hands balled into fists, the brief sweetness of the memory turning to ash. Obi-Wan had ruined everything, had ensured there was no Padmé to kiss his brow and soothe his hurts with her soft hands.

Obi-Wan was the only one he had to come back to, now. And there would be no sweetness, between them, no matter what possibilities he’d considered in the past, in a different life.

Obi-Wan had never been willing to return his affections, even then. The man he’d been - Anakin - had deserved care and attention. He would have been good to Obi-Wan, even, gentle with him, kind and giving, but-- But Obi-Wan had never even gazed at him, rejecting him out of hand, turning to another, instead, and--

Well. He no longer had any opportunity to reject anything. Vader had ensured that Obi-Wan had to take what he was given, and the thought eased the raging anger and hurt inside his chest, as he entered his chambers. His orders, delivered before he arrived back on Mustafar, had been followed to the letter, and he smiled at the sight of the stockade erected before his throne.

He inspected it carefully, running a gloved hand over the X that it formed, testing the manacles, pleased with the work put in by 2224. He found he quite liked using 2224 for this work. He’d played a role in taking Obi-Wan away, distracting his focus. Vader couldn’t punish the man 2224 had been; that man was, effectively, dead.

But he enjoyed the knowledge that the man 2224 had been would have rather put a blaster against the side of his head and pulled the trigger than participate in any of Obi-Wan’s just punishments. He could only follow Vader’s orders, now. Only do as he was told, like a good soldier.

Vader turned aside, checking that the rest of his ordered preparations were in order. The furnace made the room hotter than he liked, but it was necessary. He would bear the discomfort. He opened it, more heat rushing out, and gripped the handle of one of the long, metal prods inside, lifting it enough to see the white-hot edges.

He waved a hand towards the far wall of his quarters, using the Force to activate the controls to raise the view shield. He preferred not to look out, not to see the lava fall below, but…

But he wanted Obi-Wan to see, to know exactly where he was. To understand the wrongs he was paying for, at least in part. Vader had so much to pay him back for.

“Bring him,” he said, still staring into the heart of the furnace, remembering fighting across lava, remembering the agony as the heat consumed him, burning him and setting him on fire just from its closeness, remembering that Obi-Wan left him to die, not even granting him a clean end to his suffering, remembering--

“--just try to remember,” Obi-Wan was saying, as the troopers dragged him into the room, falling silent as he took a step in. Vader felt the sudden flux of his emotions, rising and twisting in the Force: horror and regret and, there and gone, anger.

They passed, too quickly. Obi-Wan’s emotions ever did, and it wasn’t fair, the way he could process them, be rid of them so quickly, when they’d always cluttered Vader’s mind. “Anakin,” he said, sparing Vader from trying to find words that had, temporarily, forsaken him, “What is this?”

“Do you like it?” Vader asked, turning aside from the furnace. “I had it designed for you. Secure him,” he added, to the troopers. He required all of his troopers to keep their helmets off, these days. He preferred that Obi-Wan see their faces, as much as possible. He’d found so many from the 212th, after all.

Obi-Wan struggled against them, as they hauled him towards the stockade, enough so that Vader activated the collar. The troopers took Obi-Wan’s weight when he slumped, hauling him up, fitting one wrist and then the other into the shackles, before kneeling, pulling his ankles into place.

Vader stared, looking at the pale expanse of flesh - he’d provided Obi-Wan with no clothing, and did not plan to start - looking at the scars and freckles that littered his back, strung up for him. He could do whatever he wished. He thought, briefly, of Padmé, her soft arms around him, pulling him to their bed after he returned from the war, and he’d never have that again, but…

“What do you think of the view?” he asked, stepping up behind Obi-Wan, pleased by how much he dwarfed his old Master, these days. Obi-Wan had stolen Padmé from him. It was only fair that he… make up for his theft. Vader put a hand on Obi-Wan’s side, leather dark against creamy skin, slid his palm lower, and felt the wave of revulsion that came off of Obi-Wan, through the Force.

It was stunning and immediate and ever-so-clear through the bond that Vader had not managed to break yet, despite all his efforts. He jerked his hand away, without intending to do so, the taste of vomit in his mouth, suddenly.

Obi-Wan’s voice jerked him out of the strange twist of his thoughts. He sounded agonized when he said, “Do you really make yourself stay here, Anakin?”

The words took a moment to register, and then Vader snarled, activating the collar again, growling out, as Obi-Wan jerked, uselessly, in his chains, “Do not feign towards pity for me, Master. I do not require that from you.”

He listened to Obi-Wan gulp at the air, as the pain stopped. Muscles across his shoulders and back jumped and quivered. He mastered himself far too quickly and asked, his voice a rasp, “What is it that you do require from me, then?”

“Have you not realized?” Vader asked, turned aside, back to the furnace. “I require nothing more than I am owed. Justice. Recompense. Payment for everything you took for me.” He opened the furnace, curled his fingers around the handle of one of the brands, and felt his stomach kick over. “You left me to burn,” he said, remembered agony moving through him. “Can you imagine what that felt like?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his own voice blank.

Vader scowled, lifting the white-hot metal, displeased with the answer. He’d hoped for begging. He snapped, fury moving through him that, even now, Obi-Wan would act so cool, so calm, “Well, you won’t have to imagine anymore.”

And he gripped the back of Obi-Wan’s hair, forcing his head forward, holding him tight and bringing the brand to his side, listening to the flesh sizzle, smelling char. Obi-Wan jerked against his hold, trying to get away from the hot metal, but there was nowhere for him to go.

Vader listened to Obi-Wan gasp as he lifted the brand away, the flesh beneath red and ruined. Angry. Obi-Wan had broken out in a sweat, across his back, gooseflesh rising over his spine and shoulders as the pain moved through him, the back of his neck exposed. Vader clenched his fingers tighter in Obi-Wan’s hair, his own breath coming fast and shaky.

He held out the brand and said, “Put it in to heat again. Bring me the next.”

2224 said nothing when he handed over the next brand. “Thank you, Cody,” Vader said, only because he wanted Obi-Wan to know who the instrument of his pain was. He wanted Obi-Wan fully cognizant of what was happening to him, who was hurting him. “Well,” he said, pressing the other brand lower, “is it what you imagined?”

“Very close,” Obi-Wan gritted out, voice not even cracking, damn him, and Vader threw the brand to the side as it cooled, knowing the troopers would retrieve it, enjoying the sound it made clattering across the stone.

“Another!” he snapped, hand out, demanding, and he snarled, “You’re going to pay for everything you did to me, Obi-Wan. Repay everything you took. Everything, do you hear me?”

“I didn’t,” Obi-Wan gasped, straining against Vader’s grip in his hair, just for a moment, “take anything. From you. Anakin.”

And the fact that he’d still lie about it, deny his responsibility for everything that had happened was infuriating. “You took everything from me!” Vader roared, tossing aside the spent brand - most of the right side of Obi-Wan’s back was all raised, weeping burns, Vader’s mark standing on the skin, freckles eradicated, and--

“No,” Obi-Wan ground out, still full of denial, “I--”

“You took Padmé!” Vader cut him off, tired of hearing his lies. “I should be - be back on Coruscant, with her. With our child. But--” He cut off, because Obi-Wan’s emotions did something strange, at that moment, going utterly still and distant, which was--

“You killed them,” Obi-Wan spat, muscles tensing across his shoulders and down his back. Bracing, Vader noticed, but the realization felt far away and unimportant. “You killed your wife and unborn child, Anakin, don’t you remember? It was right down there where you strangled--”

The sound Vader made wasn’t words, it was beyond words, beyond fury and righteous rage at all that had been stolen from him. He wanted Obi-Wan to shut up, to cease the flood of lies, wanted him to pay for what he’d done, to give back what he’d taken, to fully comprehend his situations and--

And Vader had never pawed open the front of his suit, before, tugging at clasps with his robotic fingers. “This is your fault,” he snarled, “all of this is your fault, Obi-Wan. I could have been on Coruscant. With Padmé. Celebrating.”

He gripped at Obi-Wan’s right side, his sensitivity nodes picking up the heat of the burned flesh as he dug his fingers in, hearing the agonized sound it dragged out of Obi-Wan’s throat, and if he thought that hurt--

“To bad,” Obi-Wan gritted out, “that you killed--”

“Shut up! I should be with my wife,” Vader snarled, shoving aside the little voice that pointed out that he’d always wanted this, too. How many times had he thought about visiting Obi-Wan’s quarters on the Negotiator? About pressing him to a wall, hushing his inevitable protests with a kiss, knowing he’d need to convince Obi-Wan, at first, stripping away his clothes and his control--

But that was just because Obi-Wan had made him want it, made him lust after someone that wasn’t Padmé, and then - then denied him. Ignored him, in favor of someone else. That wasn’t Vader’s fault, none of this was his fault. He held onto that knowledge, snarling, “But I suppose you’ll have to do.”

And Obi-Wan’s legs were already spread, ankles already shackled into place. He thrashed, violently, but between the shackles and Vader’s grip, he barely moved. There was just the harsh, panting sound of his voice, and Vader expected begging, weeping, pleading--

But Obi-Wan didn’t do any of that, he said only, “No, Anakin--”

And Vader felt all the speeches he’d prepared for the moment - because he’d known he was building to this, from the moment he captured Obi-Wan, known he was going to take what was his - slipping from his mind, feeling Obi-Wan’s pain like it was his own across their bond and refusing to allow that weakness to stop him.

This was what he deserved. Vader was no longer sure if he meant himself or Obi-Wan as he shoved in, dry, nothing to ease the way until something… tore, in a hot rush, and--and he snarled, “Anakin is dead, you killed him.”

“No--”

Vader tightened his grip in Obi-Wan’s hair, gripped around his throat with the Force, squeezing, not wanting to hear any more of his lies, his twisted versions of the truth, just wanting him to be quiet, to be accommodating, for once in his Force-forsaken life to just do as he was told and--and it was so easy to squeeze, the Force jumping to answer his call.

Obi-Wan’s fingers gripped at the stockade, his knuckles standing white against his skin, and Vader tried to make himself think about Padmé, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t at all, she slipped his thoughts completely, as though somehow she weren’t the reason he was doing this, punishing Obi-Wan like this, taking him as he should have been taken and--

And Vader’s cardiac system was malfunctioning again as he fell over the edge. It had been… years, since he’d achieved physical release. He hadn’t touched anyone else, hadn’t felt skin against his flesh, around his cock, gripping him tight and good-- Not since Padmé, not since Coruscant, not since he was Anakin and...and he pulled away, pulled out, roughly, his head full of noise. There was blood across his skin, the only bits of it exposed, he noted, tucking himself away with rough hands. It wasn’t his.

“Get him out of my sight,” he barked, turning away from the way Obi-Wan had slumped against his bonds, the burns across his skin, the way he was breathing shakily, the blood and fluids smeared down the insides of his thighs. His signature in the Force wavered. The marks around his throat were red and purple - black - already, deep, peeking out around the edges of the collar.

Vader looked back, automatically, at a soft, pained sound that he recognized, and watched the troopers unlatch the shackles, watched Obi-Wan just slump over into 2224, like he was someone else, someone who cared, Obi-Wan’s head resting on his shoulder, completely and foolishly trusting.

It was infuriating, and Obi-Wan made a harsh, gasping sound as Vader’s power curled around him again, tightening before Vader mastered himself. It wouldn’t do to kill Obi-Wan. Not yet. He scowled, releasing his grip, noticing, distantly, that there was something wrong with one of 2224’s eyes.

The sclera had turned completely red. Of course, 2224 would be one of the clones to show major defects. Vader intended to keep him around as long as possible, after seeing Obi-Wan’s reaction to him. But 2224 was tapping a finger on Obi-Wan’s side again, eye red, because nothing could ever be easy.

Vader turned away again, mouth full of bitterness, and said, controlling his tone, “Take him to the healers. I don’t want him to die, yet.” He paused, and added. “Have them look at you, as well.”

#whumptober2020 #no.14 #branding #clone wars #fic #torture #mistreatment of prisoners #non-con #non-explicit #dead dove do not eat #codywan #vaderwan #my writing #oof!au #unreliable narrator

64 notes · View notes

swiss-cheeze · 4 years ago

Text

Fire Breather || Spencer Reid

Gender: none, they/them.

Warnings: uh, none? Fire/use of fire.

A/N: I based ‘you’ (the reader) after Dustfinger from Inkheart. He is a skilled performer who uses fire, also known as fire-eating, and I just really liked this idea.

He can manipulate Fire in his hands which is something you can do which as well is why in some instances it is mentioned that you do not have a lighter. You are obviously the only one of your kind except you do not really come out of a book unless people want a part two for an extra in-depth thing that you talk with Reid etc.

Description: the team goes to the circus (or fair) for some well-deserved time off. One team member in particular finds themselves rather attached to a certain fire-breather.

-------

The travelling circus was in town, coming in at no better time than now; the BAU’s free weekend.

“Garcia you know I don’t wear that stuff!” Spencer exclaimed as Garcia tried to put glitter onto his cheeks.

“Oh, come one Reid! Just this once! I’ll never ask again!” Garcia exclaimed. Everyone had gathered at Garcia’s house a few hours before leaving for the circus with the technical analyst pretty much forcing everyone into glittery makeup or costumes. Garcia held out her pinkie finger to Reid who reluctantly linked his with hers; sometimes Spencer hated the fact that he took pinkie promises so seriously.

“At least make it purple and silver,” Spencer mumbled as Garcia squealed before gathering some of the sticky makeup and applying it to Spencers cheek.

“wooowww, didn’t know Reid had it in him!” J.J. announced as she stood behind Garcia as Spencer gave J.J. a glare as she called in the rest of the team to witness Spencer’s first-time glitter makeover.

“Pretty Boy looking pretty today!” Derek exclaimed with a grin as Garcia lent back and finished her artwork. A nice splotch of purple and grey glitter sat happily on the apple of Spencers cheek and twirled up his temple. Garcia handed Spencer a hand-held mirror for him to look at her masterpiece.

“I like it,” Spencer said happily with a grin, the rest of the team hollered and clapped the man on the back. Each member of the team looked similar; Emily had purple and orange around her face and collarbones, J.J and Rossi both had green splotches around their cheeks, Hotch had blue and yellow (specifically requested by Jack who also wanted photographic evidence), Morgan had blue and purple around his face and collarbones as Garcia was decked out in all colours and a large tutu. Finally, the team was ready and walking out the door.

Now, most, if not all, circuses included a rather large red and white tent that all the mystery was coined inside. But not this one, oh no, most of the activities, stalls and more stood outside in the nice sunshine. As the team entered the circus (which Spencer dubbed more as a ‘fair’ rather than a circus) they all got roped into their own worlds; J.J. and Emily went straight for the milk bottle throw, Derek and Rossi having a contest on who could get the dumbbell weight the highest (surprisingly Rossi won), Hotch tried his best to get Jack some sort of teddy (he got a stuffed dog) as Garcia and Spencer got propositioned by tall people on stilts and clowns with large smiles.

“Hello hello!” a clown called happily bouncing up to the team, “our lovely fire breather is about to start their show!” the clown grabbed Spencer and Rossi by the wrist before dragging the two towards a crowded area; the team following closely behind, laughing at the disgruntled face Spencer pulled when being touched.

“Come one! Come all!” a voice called; the team weaselled their way through the crowd in order to get the best view, “Come and see the dime of the hour!” you twirled as you spoke, “moi” laughs echoed from the crowd as you began the show. You grabbed your ‘batons’ (handheld ropes with large spheres on the end) and blew softly on the spheres causing them to light with fire. The crowd gave an ‘oooo’ as you slowly started to move the ropes at your sides, at first going in slow circles before twisting and turning in front of you and behind you before becoming the expert and throwing the ropes in the air; each time successfully catching them and continuing your act.

“Shit,” Morgan said under his breath, the team watched on enthralled at your acts which consisted on balancing on a beam while swinging the ropes, twirling two lit hoops, putting fire out in your mouth as well as blowing out large spiels of said fire again. Spencer watched on, a dazed look in his eyes as he watched you constantly lighting things on fire as well as using your mouth to breath fire; all without using any sort of liquid or lighter.

“I need a willing volunteer!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily after engulfing flames into your mouth, steam seemed to spill from your lips as you talked giving a rather dragonesque vibe to your already leather-like outfit. You scanned the crowd as you drunk some water before they landed on Spencer, “you, cutie with the vest!” you exclaimed with a grin, Spencer pointed to himself as his team egged him on and soon pushed him into the circle, you pulled out a nearby chair and instructed Spencer to sit down, “do you give permission for fire to be near you as well as myself and my body?” you asked softly, bending down to Spencers slightly lower level than yourself. The man in question gulped but nodded.

“Yes, wholeheartedly,” Spencer said in a hushed tone, you grinned before grabbing the tools you needed. You blew softly on the two hoops you used earlier before moving around Spencer, moving the hoops around his head and down his body, doing the same to yours while also dancing around the poor doctor. The heat Spencer could feel radiated from the hoops you held in your hands as well as his own blushing, you dipped the hoops in a barrel of water to extinguish them before moving onto a more unused tool you had: fire whips. You blew on the end of both the whips before grasping the handles and…well…doing what you would with whips. The noise cracked around Spencer as he flinched ever so slightly and moved away every now and then but the smile on his face told you not to stop, the crowd awed at your work as you dragged the whips around your own body (seemingly not getting burnt which did catch Spencer attention), before dipping them in the water to extinguish the flames and grasping Spencers hands, pulling him up to stand and bowing with him. The crowd cheered and clapped (the loudest being Spencer’s team) before you sent Spencer back to his place and started cleaning your station, Spencer’s team gripped the skinny man by the waist before hoisting him on Hotch and Derek’s shoulders seamlessly as they cheered for the boy (causing on-lookers to laugh).

“Either you get that fire breathers number, or I will!” Emily said happily as Spencer was finally put on the ground again, the genius thought for a moment before turning back around to your station and walking confidently in your direction.

“Um, excuse-excuse me,” Spencer said, gaining your attention, you smile brightened upon realising who it was.

“Hiya darling!” you exclaimed happily, turning your full attention to the man, “what can I do for you handsome?”

“Um, I was just wondering if I…” Spencer paused, “no, its stupid, sorry to bother you.” And before you knew it the poor boy was walking away with his tail between his legs. You frowned at Spencers sudden loss of confidence before calling out to him.

“Oi! Handsome!” he turned around quickly, a finger pointing to himself in question, “nah the guy with the greying hair behind you-YES YOU!” Spencer blushed as the team laughed, “can I get your number or not?” you questioned. Spencer smiled widely as he nodded quickly and walked back over to you.

“Yes-yes please” Spencer said happily as he handed you a card, you grinned looking down at the card before flipping it between your fingers, having it disappear with a blink of the eye, “you know how to manipulate cards?” Spencer asked in disbelief, you grinned.

“Working in the circus does a lot for you,” you said happily, “listen…” you paused, “we travel the world for six to eight months a year and the rest of the time we spend prepping new attractions and our acts. We’re based here but after our shows we travel-“

“I work for the FBI and I travel to different states in the US almost every week,” Spencer quickly cut in from your rambling, “of course I would want to see you daily but I do believe we can make it work,” you smiled as Spencer talked. Not once has someone ever wanted to try and make time for you or work their timetable around yours, it was always yours around theirs. You couldn’t help yourself as you threw your arms around Spencers neck and hugged the boy tightly, Spencer being Spencer didn’t respond for a second but cautiously wrapped his arms around you, it was loose but still comforting.

“I’m sorry I just…” you quickly broke the hug as you talked and stepped backwards, “we go at a pace we both like,” you said happily before a clown came to your side and whispered something inaudible in your ear, “I have a fire breathing class in a few minutes but we can talk later after the circus is packing up? Walk in the park?” you questioned.

“I would really like that,” Spencer said with a nod and a laugh.

“I’ll send you a flame” you joked before packing away the final things in your bag and walking away, sending Spencer a small wave he reciprocated before walking back to his team, each giving a clap on the back.

You could not help the sigh from escaping you as your shoulders sagged, yes someone liked you, yes someone was willing to put in the time for you and only you. But you would have to tell him what you are eventually.

———

Part 2 of a date with Spencer and telling him what you are? Maybe? Not sure up to you!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #jj #penelopie garcia #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #luke alvez #matt simmons #david rossi #spencer reid x reader #fire breather #inkheart #dustfinger #spencer reid x firebreather reader #x reader #reid x reader

85 notes · View notes

wolftraps · 4 years ago

Note

For the reverb inspiration thing honestly I'd kinda like more Ethan stuff? Mostly because it'd be fun to see someone adjusting to the future institute and that sort of flavor of outsider POV intrigues me. Plus I also just... Love Naomi a lot...

As happens with literally everything I write, this ended up longer than intended. So here’s Ethan’s first week at the Blackwood Institute. Poor guy. His boss is a creepy moron. Warning for a brief mention of self-harm and eye trauma right at the start here, but pretty much everything is canon-typical. This is also on AO3.

Being an Assistant Archivist at the Blackwood Institute is… well, it’s nerve-wracking honestly. There’s no formal training, and this seems to be largely because there’s been only one other person to have held the position in… ever, as far as Ethan can tell. And that had been over fifteen years ago and lasted a grand total of nine months before Chloe Halloway, age 29, had a “crisis of faith” and tendered her resignation by pouring bleach directly into her eyes.

“If you’re going to reconsider your position here,” Jon said matter-of-factly, after telling Ethan this, “I highly suggest you do so prior to signing a permanent contract.”

Which was really unnecessarily creepy, sure, but creepy is sort of why Ethan is here in the first place, so not that surprising. The least Miss Halloway could have done, in his opinion, was leave some kind of manual or something behind. A guide. Notes. Ethan would probably be willing to kill a man for a “To-Do list” at this point.

Technically Ethan has his own office, but the room is dusty and cluttered and doesn’t actually have a desk or chair yet, so he set up in the main Archive area, where there are three ancient desks, three slightly less ancient desk chairs, a small table, and inexplicably, a wardrobe and a worn armchair. Finding the least uncomfortable configuration of furniture made him feel a bit like Goldilocks, despite the desks and corresponding chairs being virtually identical. He figured that was what had been meant by “make yourself comfortable.” Jon didn’t say any different.

Between orientation (signing papers, sitting through general training, another tour, getting his picture taken with an actual polaroid camera, etc) and “settling in,” it hadn’t mattered the first day that Jon didn’t give him any direction. And when Ethan got in on the second day, Jon had already been in the middle of taking a statement, so Ethan had busied himself going through the desk he’d taken. And then another desk. And then the other desk.

At the end of that task, he had various office supplies, a good dozen unfiled statements, five tape recorders, sixteen unlabeled tapes, five labeled tapes that didn’t match any of the unfiled statements, a small notebook with a few unfinished poems, a bag of what might have once been gummy worms, a nearly empty bottle of vodka, two very faded polaroids of a younger Jon and Martin with a woman identified on the back as Sasha, and a large, large stack of poorly drawn and seemingly conflicting maps. Also a lingering feeling that he would never be able to fully get the cobwebs off his arms.

He wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.

Well, except for the gummy worms and vodka, which he promptly disposed of.

Most of the rest ended up on top of one of the unused desks. And by the time that was done, it was nearly time to leave. As far as Ethan could tell, Jon hadn’t come out of his office once. Though, apparently the statement-giver had left at some point without Ethan noticing, so he couldn’t actually be sure. He does have a tendency to block everything else out when he’s focused on a task.

When he came in on the third day, the desk he’d placed everything on was clear and Jon wasn’t in his office. In absence of anything else to do, Ethan started looking through the database. From reading (and supposing any of what he heard on The Observer Chronicles was accurate), he thought he understood a couple of the categories. Others seemed a bit too… arbitrary. Most entries appeared to have corresponding files regarding any follow-up done, but very few had actual digital copies of the statements themselves. And only the discredited statements had audio files.

Jon didn’t return until well after lunch time, and when he did he seemed almost surprised to see Ethan there.

“You should take an early day,” Jon told him, before Ethan managed to formulate any of his questions. “Daisy’s brought me a statement. Probably best it doesn’t see you in case we decide to let it go.”

And then he went into his office. Ethan had no idea who Daisy was or how a statement was supposed to see him— or what it would do to him if it did— but it didn’t look like he was going to get any answers now, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to risk it. So he was left with nothing but to do as Jon suggested.

—

“You’re home early,” Naomi says when he walks in to find his mum sitting on the couch.

“So are you,” Ethan replies, and he didn’t even do all that much today, but he feels exhausted none-the-less.

“I had an appointment,” she reminds him. Right. He knew that. He’d just… forgotten. But he knows she hadn’t really expected him to remember. “Nothing to report. So? What has you home already?”

“Jon told me to go home. Someone named Daisy brought him a statement, and he thought it was better I wasn’t there. Why? I have no idea.”

“Well, it’s early yet, and they deal with some pretty dangerous things there,” she reasons. “The Jon I knew tried to look out for people. Can’t say I’m not glad if it’s still the same.”

“Sure, but…” Ethan stands there, fiddling with the strap of his bag, staring at the coffee table as he tries to find the words. Naomi waits, but he’s not sure what to say.

“Why don’t you go put your bag down,” she says eventually. “Think it over a bit, then come sit with me. I’ll get you some tea and wake up Beaker.”

True to her word, when Ethan gets back in more comfortable clothes, there’s a cup of tea waiting on the table, just barely steaming, and a squirming, growling ball of orange fluff in his mum’s lap. The moment he sits and Naomi lets go, the cat is in his lap, squeaking her indignation. Her brush is already set on the couch beside him.

“Thanks,” he says, and his mum just nods.

“So?” she prompts.

Ethan sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Ethan, you’ve only been there three days. Not even three days. Everyone feels lost when they start a new job. It happened literally every time you started a new year in school, if you’ll recall.” He keeps brushing Beaker, but he can see his mum smiling in his peripheral vision and he rolls his eyes.

“No, yeah, I know that. I mean I literally have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. There’s been no training. No instructions. I don’t- I cleaned out desks and I looked through the database and I read some old statements, and I keep waiting for Jon to say something. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. Explain anything.” Beaker squeaks again, nipping at his arm as he absently tugs a bit too hard at a knot of fur. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Naomi says, huffing slightly the same way she does every time the tube runs late, even though she expects it. “That’s far, far more common than you’d think.”

“That makes no sense, though! How are people supposed to do their jobs if no one explains how to do the job?”

“Well… I think a lot of people try to pretend and copy the people around them. It’s usually better to just ask, though. People can get so used to doing something that they honestly forget that other people don’t know how, and Jon’s been doing this for a very long time. What did he say when you asked?”

On the table, Ethan’s tea is going cold. If he leans over to get it, though, Beaker will probably yell at him and run away, and brushing her really is helping him relax. But his mouth feels so dry, and it might be worth it.

“Ethan,” his mum says in that tone. That one she always got right before Caleb tried to lie to her. “You did ask Jon, right?”

There’s another knot in Beaker’s fur, but he takes more care with this one and she just keeps purring. He rocks. His mouth is still so dry.

Naomi sighs, setting her own cup down and passing Ethan his, handle out. It’d be alright today, he thinks, if their hands touched when he took it from her, but she’s always careful anyway. He takes a sip. The tea is good, as always, though he can’t help thinking of his interview with Martin. There’d been a cup waiting for him in Martin’s office. His favorite kind, perfectly made. He’d meant to ask Martin how he knew, but then he just… hadn’t.

“You didn’t. Ethan, you… Okay. Okay. Why not?” his mum asks.

“I don’t know! He’s always… in his office and- and busy or— I don’t know. He makes me a little… nervous or something.”

“Intimidated.”

“Maybe?”

“I can understand that,” she says. “The first time I technically met Jon, I was terrified of him. The first… many times. Even after I actually met him and got to talk to him, I kept having to remind myself that he didn’t want to hurt me. If he’s still like I remember him, and I’m willing to bet he is, then I don’t think leaving you to figure things out yourself or not talking to you is intentional. He’s really a very… very awkward man.” She’s staring at the wall, but doesn’t seem to be looking at anything, and after a moment she laughs a little. “Promise me you’ll at least try to talk to him Monday?”

Ethan promises, of course.

—

Jon doesn’t even seem to understand the words at first, when Ethan asks him what an assistant here does. For a few seconds, there’s no expression, and then Jon’s brow furrows and he looks down at the papers on his desk like he might read the answer there.

“I— Hmm,” he says. “F-file? Organize? I— What did they— I never actually was one, so… It occurs to me that I am very lucky I chose to include Sasha after all. You might ask her? Or- or Martin. They actually did the assisting once upon a time, so…” Jon shrugs, or Ethan thinks he does. There’s a cat draped across his shoulders, so they don’t actually move much. And then Ethan stands there, and Jon sits, and neither of them say anything, and if Ethan’s mum is right, it’s because neither of them is quite sure what to say.

Ethan leaves.

Martin was nice during his interview. Encouraging and friendly and patient when it took some time for Ethan to decide what to say. It was a far, far easier interview than he’d feared. And Martin had said Ethan could come to him if he had any questions. Despite that, Martin makes Ethan even more nervous than Jon. It’s always worse disappointing friendly people.

So instead, Ethan makes his way to the Library, because that’s where Sasha works, if he’s remembering right. Once he’s there, though, he has no idea where to look, and it occurs to him that there may be more than one Sasha. The one he’d seen when he interviewed was young; maybe a couple years older than him. But the one in the pictures he found in the Archives would surely be Jon’s age at least. There’s no one who looks like either of them that he can see.

“Excuse me,” he says to someone who is probably a librarian, since he’s sitting at a desk with a plaque that says the date and ‘You’d have been out of here days ago if you’d just asked for help.’ The man doesn’t look up from his book. “I’m looking for Sasha?”

“Upstairs,” the guy says. The library is only one floor, though. It’s the first time he’s been in it, but Ethan made note of all Mara’s warnings.

“I’d like to speak to Sasha,” he says, firmer. The guy doesn’t look up and doesn’t look up and doesn’t… and then something changes and he stiffens and slowly looks up at Ethan, and he seems almost… nervous.

The man coughs. “O-oh. You’re- you’re from the Archives.”

“Yes,” Ethan agrees. “I need to talk to Sasha?”

“Right. Sure. Um, I’ll get— uh, Kelly- Kelly will help you.” The man nods toward something over Ethan’s shoulder. When he turns there’s someone already there, a bit too close, and Ethan didn’t know teeth could be that white.

“Hi!” They smile and smile. “I’m Michael. You can call me Kelly. I’m here to help. This way please!” Literally turning on their heel, they walk away with a gait more like a bounce than a walk, and Ethan follows. Right up until they hop onto the first step.

“I—” he says. Even before they turn their head, he can somehow see their smile. Human necks almost definitely aren’t supposed to turn that far. He almost forgets what he meant to say.

“Yes?”

“I— I was told the library is only one storey.”

They smile and smile. “That’s right.”

“But… the stairs?” he asks.

“What stairs?” Their head tilts, like a curious dog, still looking over their shoulder. And human necks definitely aren’t supposed to turn like that.

Ethan looks down at the stair Kelly is perched on, and they look down as well. There is no acknowledgement of the stairs.

“Come on!” They smile. “Best to take the first step at a bit of a jump!”

And they keep going up the stairs, so Ethan takes a breath and hops onto the first step.

Except it isn’t a step. It’s… a rug maybe? It doesn’t stop looking like stairs, but the whole thing is level, and he nearly trips more than a couple times expecting his foot to hit the floor before it does. When they reach the end, he looks back. Back and down. Down at the library, one storey below.

At the end of a short hallway, there is a yellow door; one that Ethan is sure he’s seen before, except somewhere else. Kelly bounces up to it and knocks, and looks back at him and smiles and smiles, and then the door creaks open.

The person who emerges is definitely the young woman he saw when he came for his interview, but she’s also almost definitely the woman in the photograph from decades ago.

“Hi, Sasha!” Kelly smiles. “This one wants to talk to you!”

“Oh? Oh!” Sasha also smiles, and there’s a ringing in Ethan’s ear when she talks, but it seems like a fairly normal smile. At least, comparatively. “You’re the new Archival Assistant!”

“Uh, A- Assistant Archivist, actually.” It probably doesn’t matter. People are always telling him things like this don’t matter, and he shouldn’t bother correcting them. For some reason, though, it really feels like this does.

Sasha, at least, looks a bit surprised. “Really? Huh. That’s fascinating.”

Ethan is at least 75% sure she isn’t being sarcastic. “Is it?”

The hallway couldn’t have been more than five meters, but her laugh echoes down it. “It is! Thank you, Kelly. I’ll be sure Ethan makes his way back alright.”

It’s a clear dismissal, but Kelly doesn’t move. They keep looking at Sasha and they smile and smile and smile until eventually Sasha rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Please,” she says. “I couldn’t lose one of Jon’s if I wanted to. He’ll be back in the Archives as soon as we’re done talking.”

Kelly smiles. “Okay!” they say cheerily, as if there’d never been any tension at all. “Nice to meet you, Ethan!” and then they’re gone.

“They’re a good kid,” Sasha says. “Well, then. Please, step into my office.” She closes the yellow door behind her and opens a different one beside it, that Ethan is also sure hadn’t been there a moment before. It’s a normal enough door, though. Looks a lot like Jon’s, actually. Sasha waves him through, and if he didn’t know better, Ethan would be sure he was back in the Archives.

In fact, he’s pretty sure that’s the same couch that’s currently sitting in Jon’s office and the same armchair he’d moved into his own “office” the other day; though both look in significantly better shape here.

“Have a seat,” Sasha says, dropping onto the couch— or draping herself across it rather— and eliciting a grumbling meow from an almost opalescent white cat that flicks its tail when she goes to pet it and jumps into Ethan’s lap the moment he settles into the chair. At first touch its fur feels like marble, but then he pets it and it feels like plush. He can’t hear the purr, but the rumble makes his fingers tingle.

“So, Ethan. What can I help you with?” Sasha asks.

“Well. My job… I hope.”

She sits up and sounds delighted when she says, “Oh, did you find a statement about me already? You’ve only been here a couple weeks, haven’t you?”

“Four… days?” It’s not a question. Ethan knows this is his fourth day. Knows. Yet for some reason he starts second guessing himself. It has only been four days… right? Yes. Yes, four days.

After the “stairs,” he doesn’t bother asking why there would be statements about her.

Sasha thinks for a moment and then waves his comment away. “Close enough. Time is fake. So… which one is it?”

“I didn’t— find a statement. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. Jon told me to ask you because you’ve actually done the job before.”

If she keeps laughing like that, he’s going to end up with a headache. The ringing is terrible.

“I’m sorry,” she laughs. “I wish I could think you were joking, but I know you’re not. I love Jon. He’s such a disaster. You know he knows basically everything?” Ethan does not know that. A lot, definitely. More than anyone logically should or could, sure. But everything?

“That… sounds improbable.” Buried in the cat’s equally improbable fur, Ethan’s fingers start going numb.

“He does. He knows almost everything and then always forgets that he knows anything. It’s hilarious,” Sasha says with a grin. “Alright. We used to do a lot of research, but that was back when we were cleaning up Gertrude’s mess and all the work the actual Research department did somehow got lost on its way down the stairs. The real ones. And Jon only knew most things rather than basically everything…”

She tells him she did research and reorganized possibly the worst archiving system in the world. She tells him she took statement-givers’ information and caught flies to feed the spiders in the corners. She tells him she killed worms and mapped underground tunnels and scanned in old letters and typed up written statements and managed “monster relations” and blew up mannequins and recorded false statements and hacked government networks and provided alibis and stole old books from museums and sang to the recorders so they wouldn’t start eating people’s fingers and updated the database and appeased disgruntled “youtubers” and collected obituaries and plotted her boss’s death.

Ethan is sure some of these things aren’t true, but he just walked up a flight of not-stairs, so he honestly couldn’t begin to guess which. He’s also not sure how many of them are relevant.

“Mostly, though,” Sasha concludes, “you take care of Jon.”

He does try to ask about the categories, and a couple of the titles she gives them make some kind of sense, but she also says category 06 is “me”, 09 is poker, 10 is geese, and 15 is millennials, so he decides to take those with a grain of salt as well.

When they finally leave her office, the door opens into the front lobby.

“There we are! Back safe and sane, just like I promised. I know I said I’d get you back to the Archives, but I’m not actually allowed to open doors down there anymore. And it’s only… Oops.” The lobby is quiet and the windows are dark. It’s definitely well into evening, though Ethan suspects midnight has come and gone. His watch starts buzzing with missed messages. “Well, I’m sure it’s at least the same day or Jon would’ve yelled at me by now. I could give you a shortcut home?”

The yellow door is back, and beyond it is a long hallway.

“I think I’d better take the long way,” he says.

Sasha nods. “That’s fair.”

—

If Ethan could actually figure out how to message HR, he would just message them. Even if it took them a day to get back to him, he’d still be better off than he has been so far. Unfortunately, he can’t find any sort of contact information for them at all. So the morning of his fifth day, he goes to the front desk and meets Priya No-Last-Name-As-Is-Tradition, who handles “reception, admin, and whatever Martin needs.”

He doesn’t ask, but she informs him Martin will be in a meeting all morning anyway. That’s fine. She’s more than happy to walk him up to HR and introduce him to a woman named Hope.

Hope startles when she sees them, and her fingers freeze on her keyboard, but there is definitely some kind of movement in her lap, barely visible over the edge of the desk. Then she smiles and turns to face them and Ethan does not comment on the fact that he can see two long, black limbs trying to shove some sort of yarn project into the drawer of a filing cabinet behind her. Priya nods at a job well done and leaves him there.

“How can I help you?” Hope asks. There’s something not quite right about her smile, but Ethan doesn’t comment on that either.

Instead, he says, “Do you have any sort of job description or scope of duties for the Assistant Archivist position?”

Hope blinks.

“The what?” she asks.

“The Assistant Archivist position.”

She blinks again. Her smile is gone, and he’s honestly glad for it. “Assistant… Archivist.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I would hope so? I was just hired as one, so…”

She blinks again, then shakes her head. “Right. Sorry. Of course. I just… Honestly, I was sort of under the impression no one could work down there but the Archivist.”

Given that apparently only one other person has in longer than Ethan’s been alive, he doesn’t exactly blame her. Still, he’s pretty sure it’s her job to know these things, and he’d really like an answer.

“I understand,” he says, “but I do work down there. So…”

“Right. Yes. Assistant Archivist, you said? Just a moment.” She turns back to her display, taps a few keys, and then starts scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling. All the while singing “Assistant Archivist Archivist Assistant Assist Assist the Archivist” under her breath.

Three minutes later, Ethan is still waiting.

“Are you… sure that’s your position title?” she asks finally, and Ethan turns around and heads back to the Archives.

—

While he hopes he never has to do most of the things Sasha listed as her duties, there are a couple Ethan thinks he can probably manage. He has no idea what, if anything, might need to be done with the statements that already have case numbers, but there’s a shelf of boxes near the Archive entrance labeled “Me Next!” that Jon had said were unprocessed. Maybe he won’t be able to fit them all into the proper categories, but there have to be some that are obviously false, and it seems as good a way as any to get more familiar with the database.

Halfway through the day, he switches to listening to some of the old audio files to figure out the format. It doesn’t seem too complicated. Probably he can record a couple test statements, get a feel for it.

Twenty minutes later, he gives up searching and asks Jon where to find their recording software. Jon frowns and tells him he’s better off finding a free one online, so Ethan reaches out to IT instead.

Ten minutes after that, he gets a message from Cass Walters telling him to check his apps again and that he’ll “know it when [he] see[s] it.” So he does.

Halfway through the list there’s an icon with a stylized cassette tape. It’s labeled “IM TELLING YOU IT FUCKING WORKS JON”, and Ethan figures that’s probably it. Thankfully it’s fairly intuitive, and it might end up being a total waste of his time, but by the end of the day he has three halfway decent recordings and feels like he accomplished something, at least.

On his sixth day, one week after starting, Ethan comes in just in time to hear someone say, “Are you kidding me?!” really quite loudly in Jon’s office.

It doesn’t sound like the sort of conversation he wants to disturb, so he goes to his desk and gets set up as quietly as he can and meets the cat’s judging stare head-on while eavesdropping. She blinks and rubs up against his leg, and he can’t help but think it was some kind of test. Apparently he passed.

“You know everything, Jon,” the same person says, and Ethan is at least 80% sure it’s Martin.

“Not ev—”

“Everything,” Martin repeats. “How can you possibly not know what your own assistant is supposed to be doing?”

“I can’t know things that don’t exist, Martin. Chloe always wanted to figure everything out herself and made things up as she went along. It may as well be a new position. So, I don’t know.” There’s a moment of silence.

“Jon,” Martin says.

“… Yes, Martin.”

“Love,” Martin says.

Jon sighs. “Yes, Martin. I realize—”

“That might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Yes, Martin. I get it.”

“He’s an Assistant Archivist! Tell him what you need assistance archiving!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jon says. If either of them say anything in the few minutes after that, though, it’s too quiet for Ethan to hear.

“Alright,” Martin says, like they’ve come to some kind of agreement despite the silence. “I love you.”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon says, the same tired way he’d said it before, though there’s a slight laugh at the end now. “I know.”

Martin is smiling when he comes out of Jon’s office. Instead of leaving the Archives, he walks up to Ethan’s desk and sets a mug of barely steaming tea down upon it.

“It should be just right now,” Martin says, like he’d known exactly when Ethan was going to arrive— despite him being half an hour early— and purposely made the tea so it would have cooled to the perfect temperature the moment he walked in. It is, of course, made perfectly as well. “I should have warned you a bit more about Jon. He’s a bit of a moron sometimes, but he means well. The next time you ask a question and he says he doesn’t know or tries to send you to someone else, just ask again, a bit slower. Usually the critical thinking capabilities will catch on then. Come see me whenever you’re free on Friday. I’d like to hear how you’re doing, once you actually get into the work.” And then he’s gone before Ethan can say a word.

In the doorway of his office, Jon clears his throat.

“I’ve been— reliably informed that I owe you an apology,” he says, and Ethan really would rather he didn’t. Apologies are almost always terrible, no matter which side you’re on. They’re awkward and often pointless. It’s not like he’s hurt or anything. Jon feeling bad isn’t going to do anything but make Ethan uncomfortable. “I sho—”

“Okay,” Ethan says. “Can we just skip to you training me?”

“… Yes. Yes, we can,” Jon says, possibly as relieved as Ethan to move on. He looks less tense, at least. “We usually wait until the end of probation to explain the fears, but that won’t exactly work here, so we’ll get to that in a moment. You’ve already started recording, so I suppose the first thing to know is that true statements won’t record digitally. The audio always ends up corrupted. I don’t think I’ll have you start recording any real statements quite yet, but once you do, you’ll have to use the— the tape…” He trails off, staring down at the small stack of statements Ethan recorded yesterday.

When Jon shows no sign of continuing, Ethan tentatively prompts, “The— tape recorders?”

“You’ve already started recording,” Jon says again.

“Yes?”

He pulls out the statement at the bottom of the stack and holds it out to Ethan, shaking it slightly. “You recorded this statement.”

“Yes? It was the last one I did before I went home last night.”

“Play it for me.” So Ethan does. Three minutes in, staring at the paper in his hand, Jon tells him to stop. “That’s not… Set up a new recording. I’m going to start reading this, and after two minutes, I want you to take this from me and stop the recording.” So Ethan does that too.

It had felt a bit… odd, when Ethan read the statement yesterday. Like the air got thicker, almost. But he’d also been very tired, and while a lot of things are weird at the Institute, that doesn’t mean everything is. It’s different when Jon starts reading. Not so much the air getting thicker as pressing down on them, and Ethan feels very uncomfortably like someone is making direct eye contact with him. It’s creepy. He almost misses the two minute mark.

The second he pulls the paper from Jon’s hands, the feeling lifts. Somehow, he isn’t surprised that playback of Jon’s reading comes out with a terrible screech and a whole lot of broken, garbled nonsense.

Jon looks between Ethan, the paper, and the display again and again.

“Jon?” Ethan asks.

“That’s not fair,” Jon replies. Then, with a sigh, “I guess I have more work for you than I thought.”

#my tma fic #reverb ficlet #ethan herne #sasha james #naomi herne #my writing #not a sad #the blackwood institute #the reverb in these holy halls #reverb #distortion!sasha #jonathan sims #jon's an idiot and i love him so much #martin blackwood #Anonymous #you asked #autistic character #tma

40 notes · View notes

thebonggirll · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 22 - First Day

Chapter 21

The Aquamarine Agency was a huge building with impressive infrastructure, decorated beautifully with stuffs like seashells, corals, etc. Y/N walked towards the reception, and gave a copy of her internship form to the lady standing behind it. Although it wasn't needed, because all eyes were set on her the moment she entered the building. Ofcourse, they heard about the rumors and almost everyone stared at her nowadays but here, in this building, people were staring at her because of her power and quirk.

"You were impressive there. I was rooting for you, and we are really glad that you chose our agency," the lady behind the desk said with a smile and handed her ID card, "Here's your ID card. You need to wear it for the rest of the days whenever you come here. The lift is to the right. And the students waiting room is on the 3rd floor, room number 405."

"Uh, thank you." Y/N smiled, wearing the ID card immediately. She left the lobby and walked to the waiting room. All the other students were staring at her when she entered the room. Some of them were nice and introduced themselves.

"Hey, all the others are afraid to ask so I will just be straight with my question." A guy with black hair and blue highlights which matched his eyes asked her, "Aren't you the girl who's rumored to be going out with Endeavor's son?"

Y/N chuckled at his straightforward question and answered, "Honestly I'm kind of glad you asked instead of just staring at me. Yeah, it's just a rumor. I fainted and he was just helping me by melting the ice."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Oh, I'm Oikawa by the way," he said.

"And I am-"

"Y/N Y/L/N, we all know that."

After a short while, Y/N saw a lady come over and call all of the students waiting in the room. She took them to the main office where the hero along with the assistants were waiting. Her hair was tied in a pigtail, her hero costume looked mostly like what a diver wears. It wasn't exactly shiny or something catchy but it definitely had multipurposes.

"Oh! You're here! Come in!" the lady said, keeping down her pen and concentrating on the interns. "I'm glad that all of you joined. We definitely didn't expect so many of you here, but oh well! The more, the merrier! Let's start with our introductions. I am the Water Hero of Peace: Baiji. Well, I did come up with the 'peace' later when I heard what people frequently call me on local news. Cool right?!"

"Well, she looks lively." Y/N thought. She noticed the assistants standing beside her, with comforting smiles on their faces.

Baiji clasped her hands and got up. "I hope you're ready for the training you're going to receive. Today we will just focus on cleaning up. We do fight against villains and protect people, but making sure the water body is clean also falls on our part of job."

It turned out that Baiji was actually serious about cleaning. Every intern was assigned with a small part of the bay and assistants of the water hero were there to keep supervision on them. Y/N realized, it might be because some of these interns might slack off. And she was right, but a few also threw a tantrum over how this was not what they were here to learn. She considered herself lucky to be not one of those, since these interns were given double amount of cleaning and an hour of it everyday.

"Yes, you are going to be a hero. But firstly, you've to get off that high horse and be on the same level as the general public. Only then you'll be able to see through their eyes. It often helps in figuring out the kind of villains you'll be dealing with. Being a hero doesn't just mean saving lives, but also inspiring them to be a better human being."

"That's a lot of responsibility," one guy said.

"It's a choice though, and a lot less than what mothers have in general," she replied, with the same smile she had in the morning.

When almost everyone was done with the cleaning, Baiji came to inspect their work.

"It's not clean."

"Maám you didn't give us instructions on whether we are allowed to go in the middle of the waters," Y/N said.

"Europa, was it?" Baiji turned to her asking, to which Y/N nodded her head in answer, "Well, you are not allowed to go there without permission, ofcourse."

"So can we go now? Are we allowed to take a boat?" A guy asked.

"A boat?! Wha- okay, what agency did you join?"

"Aquamarine, ma'am."

"And what are the common features in all of your quirks?"

"Water, ma'am."

"Then don't ask stupid questions boy! Use your quirk!" Baiji said, her ears getting bright red. One of her assistants held her shoulders, in an attempt to calm her down, "What?! They're supposed to be smart by now!"

"Regardless, you're supposed to train and teach them."

"Okay smartass," Baiji pouted.

"Language."

"Ugh, okay get to work heroes. I shouldn't be able to find a single trash in water."

Y/N controlled the water body and made it flow towards herself, collecting the trash and keeping it in a bag beside her. At first she wasn't able to reach the ones too far away, but watching her peers and the techniques they used, she learnt to use it a bit differently and control the waters. About half an hour later, when the interns looked a bit tired, Baiji came forward and called them.

"I'm bored. Let's make it a bit interesting. I'll be exactly in the middle of all of the assigned posts. I'll pull the trash towards me, and it's your responsibility to make sure each and every one of these are out within the next half an hour. I'll create disturbance and make sure you don't achieve it by the way. Good luck!" she jumped into the water, and was in her position in a minute.

"Just swimming couldn't do that," Y/N thought, "she's really good in controlling the water."

"Ready? Start!"

Y/N was ready to pull the water towards herself with all of her strength. But suddenly she heard a whipping sound and looking up, she saw Baiji throwing what looked like broken tin cans. She jumped back, dodging it by an inch. Y/N tried to catch the others thrown at them with the help of her quirk. Within a minute, the water current started going the opposite and she looked at Baiji with a amused smile on her face. She wasn't only throwing tin cans at them, but also using it as an opportunity to take the trash towards herself.

She tried every other way to try and get the trash towards herself, but it didn't work. Y/N sucked at multi-tasking. She knew that she couldn't just wait for her quirk to miraculously become stronger and get all the trash out. The only plan she had in mind was to somehow distract the pro hero. Maybe, if she was able to distract her only for a minute or so, it would be more than enough for the others to get the trash out. And Baiji was someone who loved flaunting about her powers. It took some time, and Y/N didn't know if this was gonna work but in this field of work there would be times that she has to make plans without anyone's help. She needed to test it, and only 7 minutes were left.

"Hey! You'll get just a few minutes to clean up!" Y/N said, and used her quirk to move fast near Baiji, just like she did before fainting in front of Todoroki.

Y/N was about to hit her with one of her water blade technique at first, but Baiji was quick to notice her. And in no time, another tin can was thrown at her. The water was fierce and uncontrollable near the hero, and she had just one chance to do something that would distract Baiji.

And she did, although it was a careless move. Y/N just stopped controlling the water with her quirk. Her body suddenly got dragged under water and with the amount of power that Baiji was using, she would either drown or get thrown far away.

Her move made Baiji panic. She stopped controlling the water and rushed to search for her, when suddenly interns took control and using their quirk, pulled the trash towards themselves. Coughing, Y/N used her quirk to swim fast back to her assigned post. But she was too tired, something she didn't think of. She never thought water could make her feel tired, when it was her own quirk.

Y/N felt arms on her waist. She looked up to see one of Baiji's assistants carrying her towards the land. She was surprised to see her part of water clean along the way.

"Ah, damn that almost drowned me. Didn't worry about that before," Y/N chuckled sitting down on the stairs and resting her body on the concrete wall behind her. The interns walked up to her and sat down on the stairs beside her - all tired after using their quirk for an hour straight nonstop.

"Remember, too much of anything is bad," Baiji said, kneeling down in front of the exhausted interns with a small smile. "One of my assistant will escort all of you to your dorm."

Baiji smiled at Y/N and said, "Well done." She walked away with her sidekick, as the interns broke down into a joyful laugh, finally feeling comfortable to talk among themselves. The assistant called for them and they got up to follow him.

"Baiji complimented you," the assistant said to Y/N as they were walking.

"Yeah well, she's a cheerful lady," Y/N replied.

"No, she might be cheerful but you've no idea how hard she is on the interns. Besides, she's a little petty too. She would never admit that an 'intern' outsmarted her."

"Oh, then...that probably means she'll be extra hard on me?"

"You're right about that."

Y/N sighed, already worried about her training even though it was only the first day.

On the other hand, Baiji's sidekick was observing her mentor closely. "Oh god! Just say it already instead of staring!" Baiji shouted at him.

"They were different from the other times, right?"

"This batch is surely different. None of the interns of the previous years had the guts to do something other than try their best to pull out the trash. Besides...that girl from U.A. Academy..."

"What surprised me is that not even a single one of them talked to each other. How did they plan this? It was also the girl, wasn't it?"

"Yes, and I've no idea whether she's too dumb or too smart but it was just over in a few minutes and she trusted the other interns to actually do it."

"But they did it, didn't they? The people who didn't even talk when they arrived are now actually getting to know each other."

"So she's one of those..." Baiji smiled, taking out her activity sheet and writing down the progress of her interns. For a long time, she didn't write these new qualities, and it felt nice.

Her pen moved and in a beautiful cursive handwriting, she wrote the words -Glue of the team.

Chapter 23

SEASON - II

Ignite

MASTERLIST

45 notes · View notes

marvels-writings · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I had an idea for a Carol x R mini series. R has known Carol for 10+ yrs-Carol came back to Earth briefly after leaving to help the skrulls. R has powers, 1 of which slows her aging. A strong connection when they met but both had other obligations. R misses Carol and decides to write letters to her (including pics): everyday life, the Avengers, changes on Earth, adventures/interests, how much she misses Carol etc. The snap-R dusted, Carol finds R's letters to her/determined to get R back.

Letters to Space (1)

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers Masterlist

A/N: if anyone has a better idea for a title PLEASE drop something in my ask box or sm (and i spent half an hour on the collage, thoughts?)

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

1 month ago

“Promise me you’ll come back to me?” You pleaded softly, touching your forehead to Carol’s outside Maria’s home. You hadn’t known Carol for that long, but something just clicked when the two of you met, it just made you want to be with her all the time.

Everyone had just got done sorting out the problem with the skrulls, Carol was about to go help them, you were a recruit for SHIELD and somehow managed to tag along with Fury and everyone else.

The only reason you were with SHIELD was because of HYDRA’s experiments on you, thanks to them, you could create fire from your hands, had super strength, slowed aging, and a lot more agility than most other humans, it also turned you into a fireball.

“I promise y/n.” Carol answered softly, holding your hands and gently squeezing. You quickly tore your hands away from hers and wrapped them around her neck in a tight hug, Carol’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she wrapped her hands around your waist in return, squeezing tightly before letting go and flying off.

You smiled softly and sighed before heading back into the house, seeing Fury fidget with the pager and talking to him about some protector initiative he was planning to set up, he wanted you to help him, you agreed, it might help use up your time away from being tested on.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

2 weeks ago:

“Who’s there?” You asked sleepily, walking to the door of your apartment in your pajamas while using a towel to dry off your hair. The water dripped onto your sweatshirt, you sighed and quickly tied the string on your grey sweatpants before standing in front of the door.

“It’s me.” A voice called out behind the door, the voice was distinct, it was definitely Carol.

You opened the door with a huge grin on your face, towel still in your hand. Carol looked at you, matching your grin, you pounced at her, hugging her softly then pulling away, a grin still on your face.

“You’re back quickly.” You said excitedly, pulling away but bringing Carol inside by taking her wrist gently. You used your other hand to continue drying your hair.

Carol gulped, even though you were in casual clothing, your wet hair just made you look gorgeous.

“I had orders.” Carol joked, standing slightly uncomfortably on the edge of the counter, you noticed how uncomfortable she was and shrugged, it was a weekend, you didn’t have work.

“The shower is down the hall on the left, there should be some hot water left, I’ll drop off some clean clothes outside.” You instructed, Carol was a bit taken aback by how quickly you welcomed her into your home.

“I’ll make something to eat, any preferences?” You asked, switching on the coffee machine and leaning back against the counter next to it.

“Something sweet, I’m sick of space food.” Carol answered, “Thank you for this by the way.” Carol said, gesturing vaguely to the shower and everything else.

“Yeah of course.” You answered, smiling and putting the wet towel next to the coffee machine. “Now go shower, you’re stinky.” Carol laughed and headed where you had told her.

You went to your room, took out a navy blue crew neck sweatshirt, some black leggings and a few other things before setting them outside the door, yelling to Carol that they were there before heading to your kitchen, switching on some music and you started making chocolate chip pancakes.

Carol stepped outside after taking a shower, wrapped up in one of your spare towels and hair dripping onto it. She tripped over the pile of clothes you’d set out for her before yelling a quick thank you and changing inside, she heard your laugh and then whatever music you were playing.

She smiled to herself while changing, she loved this, the act of just being human, instead of some great hero. With everyone else she had to be a hero, someone who would always do the right thing no matter what. With you, all of that faded and she was human again, she was able to enjoy the day to day pleasures everyone else takes for granted.

Carol grinned at the thought and stepped outside, relaxed music and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes filling her senses. She walked over to the kitchen, spreading her arms and looking at you.

“How do I look?” She asked timidly, you turned your head while pouring the batter onto the pan and gave her a quick glance before turning back to your task.

“Why does everyone look better in my clothes than I do?” You joked, finishing pouring the batter and turning around, hastily wiping the pancake mix off of your face before looking at Carol, she actually did look much better than you in those sweatpants and sweatshirt.

“There’s coffee and a table, make yourself at home.” You offered cheerily, turning around only for the gas to go off. “Dammit not this again.”

The room started smelling of gas, Carol quickly opened a window to let the smell out and turning around just in time to see you use your finger as a lighter for the gas, it flamed up instantly and Carol frowned, she didn’t know you had powers, all she knew was that you were a good fighter.

“You’re a matchstick?” Carol asked curiously, pouring herself a mug of coffee from your fresh coffee pot.

“Very funny,” You mocked, the topic was still a bit sensitive even though it was many years in the past. “It’s a long story but I have fire powers and enough strength to beat Captain America in an arm wrestle.” You explained while carefully flipping a pancake.

“Well we have time, as far as I know.” Carol commented, sitting down on one of your barstools in front of the counter, resting fer faeon her elbow as she observed you make food.

You sighed, putting 3 pancakes on a plate and pouring maple syrup in a small pourer and giving it to Carol, turning back to make some for yourself.

“Well, when I was 7, I moved to California from (place of origin),” You started explaining. “Then when I was 14, I moved to Ireland because of my dad’s job, not the best I’ve had but far from the worst. Then one day, for work experience for my school, I took an internship at some new science facility.”

You inhaled sharply as memories rushed into your head, gently flipping the pancakes still.

“The science facility ended up being HYDRA, they experimented on me, gave me these powers” You lifted your hands, turning around as small red and orange wisps emanated from them, watching Carol’s eyes widen before turning back to the stove.

“Moved me back to California because they had a better HQ, then their facility got taken down by SHIELD. SHIELD found out about my powers and recruited me, now, almost 10 years later, I’m still working for them.” You put the pancakes on a plate, hand shaking as you pour maple syrup onto them.

“Trying to prevent that from happening to anybody else.” You muttered, walking to sit beside Carol, putting on a fake smile to pretend everything was still okay.

“And your family?” She asked, putting some pancake into her mouth.

“Oh, I still visit my parents in Ireland, the rest of my family in (place of origin)” You answered, starting to eat with still shaky hands. “I actually just got back from (place of origin) after visiting my family when all of this outer space shit happened.”

“I’m so sorry.” Carol said softly, resting one hand on your free one, wincing when she saw you flinch at the simple action. You scooped food onto your spoon and ate it, looking into the distance.

“Not your fault,” You answered with your mouth half full, you chewed and swallowed before continuing. “It’s in the past anyway, what about you?” You asked, changing the topic. Carol took her hand from yours before answering.

“I think you already know,” Carol said quietly, you did know, you just needed to change the topic. “I need to tell you something.” Carol stated, you turned to her after putting another bite into your mouth.

“I’m gonna be gone for longer this time, we just found a planet and I need to defend it.” Carol stated weakly, looking down at her feet. Anxiety bubbled in her chest the longer you didn’t answer, she heard a large gulp and looked up.

“Sorry I was chewing.” You said, Carol couldn’t help but chuckle despite the situation. “But hey thanks for flying across galaxies to visit me.” You joked, a bit sad she was going but you knew it was for a good reason.

“You’re not mad?” Carol asked timidly, still surprised you weren’t.

“Two, well, three things,” You stated, lifting up three fingers then gesturing to your index finger with your other hand.

“First, I can’t possible be mad at you for helping an entire alien race find a home,” You gestured to the other finger before continuing. “Second, I’m just happy you came to visit me to eat pancakes and shower.”

“I didn’t just come to eat pancakes and shower.” carol laughed, you were honestly taking this really well.

“Third, I’m not your girlfriend that I’m gonna get mad at you for not spending enough time with me.” You and Carol both froze slightly at that statement, you ignored it and finished your food, putting your plate in the dishwasher.

“True.” Carol admitted, not saying anything else as she followed the actions you made.

“Well, since you’re not gonna be staying long, let’s make the best of what we have, right?” You asked, starting to do the dishes.

“Definitely.” Carol answered, walking over to help you with the dishes, you grinned and flicked soapy water in her face, she laughed and did the same to you.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

You were incredibly bored as you sat in the Avengers compound, you decided to add another letter to your shoebox. The small box was already almost overflowing with letters you had written to Carol. Her visits to Earth had grown more sporadic, the two of you talked once in a week, sometimes even once in a month through holograms.

Carol hadn’t seen you physically in almost a year, it was tearing her apart, she didn’t know about the shoebox, and you’d like to keep it that way. You sighed, you missed her a lot, you had developed feelings for her in Carol’s last few visits, you kept them to yourself, scared to lose your friendship.

You wrote another letter, filled it with some pictures you’d taken with the camera Carol had gifted you on one of her visits.

There were maybe 50 letters in the box, all of them filled with normal things, a coffee bean, one of your favorite pens, some art, some army patches you’d found in Cap’s things. It was filled with everything you’d done while she was gone.

You wished she was here more than ever, after the civil war, you hadn’t talked to cap, wanda, vision and even Nat for a few months. They were the only family you had and now they were gone. You often visited Tony and Pepper, but it wasn’t the same. You wrote another letter to her.

This letter was you wanted her with you, it was simple, exactly like a confession but on a letter. Halfway through, you got a call from your phone, it was from Rhodey, you picked it up to find out everyone was back in the other room of the compound, you shoved the half done letter to finish it later.

Later wouldn’t be for a while now.

Tag list: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal,@xxxtwilightaxelxxx , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: Sorry to leave on a sad note but it will get better, and angstier but generally better too!

| Part 2 |

92 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 5 years ago

Note

Could you please do a reverse idol au where the Reader is an idol and they are her sasaeng fans and they finally get to see & talk to her at a fanmeet (also she calls them cute and accidentally brushes her hand against theirs if that's okay) for Taehyung, Jin and Yoongi please. Thank you

Reaction to Meeting You at a Fansign

Admin: @nomnomsik 🎉

Trigger warnings: unhealthy obsession, yandere-themes, stalking, and unhealthy daydreaming.

A/N: Gender neutral as always. Also, this is just food for thought, but a fansign is what we typically think, the idol goes to sign your album, you talk to them, hold hands, etc, etc. But a fanmeet is different than a fansign. It’s like their Musters, the ones they have in Japan and such. It’s a concert, but more personal and they have their skits. They’re quite different!

Taehyung

Taehyung could not stop moving, waiting in line like all the rest of the fans for his chance to have a one on one conversation with you at your fansign. He remembered how loudly he shouted with joy when his number was drawn, a confirmation sent to him afterward that said he could go to the fansign.

Taehyung had three weeks to prepare before he would meet you, brainstorming questions on what to ask as well as what he would say. He contemplated memorizing a script but pouted instead when he realized how unnatural that would be. The worst thing he could do was to make you think negatively of him.

“Ahhhh,” Taehyung whined. “Why does this have to be so difficult? Why can’t it be love at first sight…” He had sighed, rolling around in his bed as he pouted unhappily.

Now, with your album in his hands, he was two spots away until it was his turn. He was jittery, unable to resist the large smile on his face and the thought of holding hands while he talked to you or the intense eye contact.

“Next person please.” The staffer spoke, ushering Taehyung forward who quickly kneeled down to meet you, almost like an excited puppy to see its owner.

“Hello,” You smiled, accepting his album and signing it near the page he had bookmarked. Taehyung replied back happily, his eyes sparkling as he finally, finally, talked to his idol. As you placed the marker down, you outstretched your hand like you did to all your fans, Taehyung immediately reciprocating and holding onto it.

He played around with your hand, swaying your arm back and forth as he vibrantly chatted away, asking you all sorts of questions about your personal taste with compliments sprinkled in.

“You said your name was Taehyung, right?” You smiled, to which he excitedly nodded up and down. “Well Taehyung, I think you’re very cute. You seem more excited about my job than I am.” You joked, only causing Taehyung to heat up with embarrassment.

Did he annoy you? Oh god, what if you thought he was annoying. You seemed to notice how Taehyung’s smile wavered, suddenly realizing how your comment could have seemed insensitive, especially to a dedicated fan.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” You quickly apologized. “That was supposed to be a compliment. I know I sound really sarcastic no matter what I say, but yeah…”

It was then that the staffer alerted Taehyung his time was up, the man quickly handing his letter over to you and giving your hand a squeeze before leaving. As he exited the building which held your fansign, he was breathless, completely winded.

You thought he was cute? You complimented his appearance? Was this a dream? With his cheeks tinted pink, Taehyung smiled to himself, a grin spreading on his face. He touched his features, whispering to himself.

“She liked how I look… Am I… actually cute…?”

Jin

So many goddamn peasants everywhere.

Being the wonderful and spoiled brat he was, Kim Seokjin, heir of his father’s company got the tickets for the fansign, his family being a sponsor for your agency.

Jin didn’t need preparation for the fansign, he was going to wing it like he did everything in life with his gorgeous looks. A lasting impression on you is ten times more effective than anything that were to come out from his mouth. Why words when he has looks?

So Jin stood impatiently in line, arms crossed as he side-glared everyone that passed him. He gave several eye-rolls to the people that whispered about his bad attitude, completely oblivious to who he was.

Jin was only the second person in line.

When the first person finally finished their little chitchat with you, Jin proudly stepped forward, sleekly dressed and hair styled by his stylist at home. He made sure to spray his favorite and expensive cologne on his suit, knowing how spraying alcohol on his face would only dry his skin and age him faster, his only fear in life.

“Good morning.” You called to him, as he kneeled to meet at eye-level. Jin nodded shyly, handing over his album that he had tightly clutched to his chest. “What’s your name?”

“K-Kim Seokjin…” Jin replied, keeping eye-contact as you nodded and wrote his name as well as signing his album. When you finished and closed his album, you looked up at him, marker still in your hand as you awaited his question. Jin cleared his throat, getting embarrassed as he shamelessly stuck out his hand.

“Oh!” You realized, placing your marker down and locking fingers with his. “Sorry about that.” You gave a sheepish smile to which he only nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve done a fansign. I forgot, oops.” You giggled, swaying your arms back and forth.

Jin could barely get all of his questions in, being a stuttering and flustered mess throughout it. His two minutes were up in a flash as he was kindly instructed to move on and proceed to the exit.

“Jin, try to relax more.” You had teased him. “Although I find you cute when you’re flustered, it’s okay. Relax next time.” You waved to him as he quietly left, until breaking into a fast sprint until he was outside. His cheeks were red as he let out several curses outside, stomping on the concrete.

“I can’t believe…! I’m not cute. I’m handsome. HANDSOME!! Not… whatever.”

Yoongi

“Ahh, where’s my camera? Camera? Oh, oh, oh! Here. Here it is.”

Yoongi scrambled in his room, remembering just as he was about to close the door to his apartment, his camera. Picking up the thousand dollar DSLR, he checked the SD card and picked up his assortment of lenses before sprinting out the door.

He kept a continuous smile on his face as he traveled to the building the fansign was taking place. It was only 6 am, but he waited outside the building, one of the first people in line. In the matter of a few hours, the line went across the block, waiting for doors to open at 8 am.

When Yoongi’s papers were checked and scanned, he was let in, his feet immediately sprinting to the center of the room and setting up his camera.

Being a fansite was a competitive job, but one that he loved doing. Seeing you printed out on clean, glossy paper did wonders to his heart, his fingers over tracing over you. Ah, those banners too.

Yoongi didn’t mind not being first in line. As long as he got video footage, and most importantly, the best shot, that’s all that mattered to him. When you finally walked in and took your seat, all your fans cheered, including Yoongi as he was surrounded by other fansites who were seething with jealously at his view.

It relieved him greatly that security didn’t find him suspicious or familiar. After all, he was the fan that conveniently bumped into you last night and followed, camera in hand. Bless those surgical masks.

As the fansign neared its end, Yoongi began to pack up his things as he saw staff cleaning up in the back and the way you restlessly moved and talked. His heart sped up, the thought of you unable to rest because of him. It was him that made you stay up at night.

As all the fans waved outside as you unloaded the gifts and your belongings into your van, you spotted the small boy waving at you. You squinted, not remembering his face. He had certainly not come up to you today. Odd.

But Yoongi didn’t need to, he already had the plans written on your schedule for the month.

He would be seeing you again tonight. And in a much more personal setting.

#yandere bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts reaction #yandere yoongi #yandere jin #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts taehyung

590 notes · View notes

maidenof-thesea · 5 years ago

Text

Snakes & Butterflies | Part I

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: None

Note: Jungkook may not be my bias but let’s be real. He bhabie. And he knows it! I’m sorry, I know JImin is a main character and I have yet to introduce him but I promise he will appear very soon, all with good time.

“Y/N”

“Y/N!” My mom yelled waking me up from my dream.

“Why did you buy a king sized bed if you’re just gonna sleep on the couch?” My mom said already bustling around in my kitchen. Yuki, who almost looked annoyed, ran to the porch instead to finish her nap in the afternoon sun. “You do realize it’s already thirty minutes past noon?”

“Sorry, mom” I said stretching, exposing my belly. I went to hug her but she lifted up my shirt. “Hey!”

“You’re getting too skinny!” she said pinching my skin. “Why don’t you just move back in with me? I promise your father won’t mention marriage again. And you won’t have to take care of drunk tourists during the summer.”

I pulled my shirt down, feeling my face burn in embarrassment. Choosing to ignore her question, I sauntered over to the kitchen to see a pot of beans cooking and arroz already ready to go. I get a bowl to serve myself only for her to snatch it out of my hands.

“Don’t avoid my question!” she yelled smacking my hand when I went to reach another bowl. When she realized that I was not going to answer her question, she sighed in temporary defeat. “At least brush your teeth first.”

“Okay omma,” I said smiling, while running to the bathroom.

“Did you watch that documentary on Netflix?” she asked, while serving me a bowl.

“Yea,” I said to the best of my ability while brushing my teeth. Once I reached for a fresh wash cloth in the linen closet, I saw my scar and I remembered my dream. Jimin. I know a Jimin, an old childhood friend, but he had moved away so long ago. But nothing more than that...I couldn’t even remember his face, let alone his Soulmate mark. So no way did I dream of a memory, but I must have dreamt of that because of my conversation with Fernando. “Hey mom, do you remember Jimin?”

“Jimin? That Korean boy you used to be friends with?” My mom said nonchalantly. “What was his cousin’s name? Jung-”

“Jungkook.” I answered. “The boy that looked like a-”

“A conejo!” my mom gushed causing me to widen my eyes. “He was so cute! I wonder how he grew up..”

She went on about how adorable he was that he must have grown into a handsome young man and that whomever his Soulmate was, was so lucky. I started to surf through my emails and I had an email from Jennie’s mom, sent this morning.

Hello Y/N, this is Jennie’s mom! I hope this email finds you okay! You probably already know that next week is when we open the cottage as an airbnb for the summer. I’ve attached a list of this season’s guests. They are all coming from South Korea this time! They should be arriving by next week but one did mention that he may arrive early since he is a student. You should expect him around 1 pm

All my love~

“MOM!” I yelled getting up from the table. “A guest is coming in 20 minutes!”

“QUE?! HIJA DE SU PU-”

“MOM! LANGUAGE!”

We started cleaning haphazardly. My mom was tidying up the living room, since she had already previously cleaned the kitchen. I ran up the stairs and got some fresh linens from a closet that I knew where Rosa, the housekeeper I had Jennie hire, kept them. I quickly sniffed them and determined them dusty. I ran back downstairs, almost tripping on the sheets.

“Be careful!” My mom yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Well Rosa doesn’t start till this weekend, so I’m gonna have to set up a room for them now!”

“You don’t have time to wash sheets!” My mom yelled as she stopped me from putting the sheets in the wash. “Just put them in the dryer with some dryer sheets and that should get rid of the dust.”

“You are a genius mom,” I said doing as she instructed. “The fridge-”

“I already cleaned the fridge and threw out old food cartons” My mom said. “I was planning on going grocery shopping for you since you work-”

“That’s fine,” I said making my way up the stairs to one of the spare bedrooms. “I’m off today which is lucky. And thanks, they may want to get groceries for themselves.” I started opening up all the windows, letting the wind in and the sun shine through. When I heard the dryer ding I ran for the sheets and ran back up the stairs and started making the bed.

“Do you think they are running late?” My mom said dusting the furniture. “It’s been 30 minutes.”

“Jennie’s mom mentioned that he or she was a student at the university,” I said, putting the last pillow on the bed. “They may be taking public trans-”

The doorbell rings and my body stiffen in surprise. I ran back down the stairs with my mom hot on my heels. In my hurry I had forgotten that my pajamas consisted of a tank top and shorts, completely leaving my arms exposed. I opened the door and a tall Korean boy stood at the door with a suitcase. I felt my heart drop and my blood run cold--speaking of the devil.

“Noona?” Jungkook said, cocking his head, his long jet black hair falling into his eyes. His front teeth were still the same as all those years ago. His eyes rank over my form and almost immediately, he zeroed in on my arm, the arm where my Soulmate mark should have been. Instead of surprise or even shock for that matter, his eyes were sad. Before I could even open my mouth, my mom grabbed my arm and swung me inside.

“Oh my! It’s my conejito!” My mom gushed with her arms spread open to hug him. I quickly scrambled to the coat closet to grab a jacket. “What a small world! Come on in, come on in!”

Jungkook giggled at her nickname for him and sauntered inside dragging his suitcase. He steps into the living room and Yuki then decides to greet him by rubbing on his ankles. His eyes widened in surprise and I quickly picked her up, my protective instincts kicking in..

“I’m sorry!” I say stepping back. “She isn’t usually this affectionate around strangers. Are you still allergic to cats?”

“No!” Jungkook said stepping closer and actually petting Yuki, to which she purred. “It’s fine! It’s not as bad as it was when we were kids.” He looked at me with a crinkle in his eyes. “I can’t believe you actually remembered that.”

“I’m not entirely sure how I did either…” I muttered as I readjusted the jacket back onto my shoulder. Once again, his gaze fell to my now covered arm. “So you are staying here for the summer?”

“Oh yes, me and my hyungs will be staying.” Jungkook said scratching his head. “They should be coming sometime next week.”

“Oh so does that mean Jimin will be coming?” my mom asked, handing him a cup of lemonade. “We haven’t seen you guys in forever, Y/N was just thinking about you and your cousin this afternoon.”

“Oh really?” He said sitting at the kitchen table. “It has been awhile, I actually just moved back to the States for school.”

“You guys moved back to South Korea?” I asked in surprise. I had always thought they just moved to a different city due to their parents' company. “I didn’t know that…”

“Yea,” Jungkook said sheepishly. “We had a family emergency.”

“Oh no!” my mom said sitting across from him. “I hope everything was okay!”

“Uhh..” Jungkook said nervously and looked at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Mom,” I said interjecting. “Don’t you have to head back home? Dad must be wondering where you are?”

“Oh you’re right!” my Mom said. “It was so nice seeing you Jungkook! Have a good time here, Y/N is such a good host!”

“Jungkook,” I said as my mom was gathering her belongings. “I already set up a room for you upstairs, if you want to settle in.”

“Okay noona,” Jungkook said smiling at me. As I followed my mom out the door, I turned around and Jungkook was looking at my arm, with a sad look in his eyes. So he saw, but his reaction was not what I expected. I closed the front door and my mom whirled on me. She smacks me on the arm.

“You should have been more careful!” She whispered/yelled. “What if he saw?!”

“He didn’t,” I lied. “I’m sorry, I should have been more careful.”

“Well, don’t forget to buy those temporary tattoos from my friend, okay?”

“I will mom.” I replied smiling while waving at her. “Say hi to Dad for me will you?”

She gives me an annoyed face and drives away. I look back at the house and I felt fear creep up my spine. Sweat started to bead at my brow, my fists were clenched and my heart was pounding in my ears. Shit. At this rate, I’ll have an anxiety attack. I took a deep breath and made my mind go blank. The sound of the waves relaxing me. I headed back inside and Jungkook was most likely in his room unpacking. As I headed up the stairs, the most angelic voice was singing, I couldn’t understand Korean but it was beautiful. Jungkook along with Yuki were in his bedroom and I felt hypnotized by his voice.

“Oh!” Jungkook said as he spotted me at the doorway. “Hi noona!”

“Hi Jungkook,” I said sheepishly, picking up Yuki. “I’m sorry about Yuki, she’s rubbing all over your clothes.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook said, folding the last of his clothes. “She’s really pretty, so it’s okay.”

“I hope you’ll be comfortable in this room, I sort of just found out this morning that you were coming,” I said awkwardly. “I wasn’t expecting you guys till next week.”

“I’m sorry about that!” Jungkook said a little awkward himself. “I finished my finals early and the hyungs wanted me to come here early to get groceries and whatnot for them.”

“No it’s okay,” I said shuffling my feet. “If you want, I can give you a ride to the grocery store? I was thinking of going shopping by myself.”

“Really?” Jungkook said with his cheeky smile. “I would be really glad, I was planning on taking an uber!”

“Yea,” I said smiling, his smile was contagious. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be good to go!”

Once we arrived at my favorite grocery store, Jungkook proceeded to place a matter of things into his cart: seven loofahs, seven toothbrushes, seven men’s deodorants, etc. Huh I was gonna have seven guys living with me this summer. Great. Once we both had what we needed for the time being, we headed home. For the most part, Jungkook was acting normal, or at least wasn’t acting weird. Which was even more strange. From what I could remember people always had a reaction to my lack of a Soulmate mark. Growing up, kids were cruel, Jennie was constantly getting into fights with little brats that would call me loveless and all matter of cruel things. She was my only friend and even though she had a beautiful feather Soulmate mark, she never looked at me differently. Even when she had already found her Soulmate Lisa. They were on their honeymoon in Greece.

We had gotten everything situated in the fridge, decided to just use labels on things we weren’t willing to share, but the rest such as milk, eggs and juice we would be okay with sharing as long as we would replace whatever we finished. Next I showed him where the laundry room was, so that he could wash his own clothes, at least till Rosa started working.

“So I typically make meals every now and then,” I stated. “But you guys are welcome to cook for yourselves. We have a visitor policy, no one can spend the night but I’m okay with it as long as you notify me ahead of time.”

“Noona,” Jungkook said, blushing as he interrupted me. “How did you get this job?”

“Um well, my friend’s parents let me stay here under the condition that I manage it as an airbnb during the summer for super cheap.”

“Friend?”

“Yea, her name is Jennie Kim, Remember her?”

“Oh,” He said rubbing his head. A message dinged and my notification sound was BB-8’s alert from Star Wars. “Oh wow, you still like Star Wars?”

“Of course! Kylo Ren is my husband.” I said nonchalant as I read my mom’s text message.

Mom[4:58 pm]: Cassandra said you can go by tonight to get a Henna tattoo since the special stick on tattoos hasn’t come in yet.

“I have to go Jungkook,” I said slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Of course,” he said petting Yuki. “Will you be long?”

“Maybe,” I said glancing at the clock. “I have to drive to San Ysidro.”

“What? Why?” He said worriedly. “I heard that place is dangerous once the sun goes down.”

“I have an appointment with a massage therapist,” I lied, avoiding eye contact and turning around heading out the door. “I’ve been there countless times, I should be fine.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook said following me outside. “I am not comfortable with this.”

“I can take care of myself,” I muttered a bit annoyed. “I am older than you Jung-”

“Is this about your arm?” Jungkook said grabbing said arm. “Because if it is-”

“Jungkook,” I said, taking my arm out of his grasp. “I understand that you may feel obligated to me because we were childhood friends, but please don’t pretend that you know the first thing about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said, taking a step back. “But I just don’t think it’s worth risking your safety.”

“I’m sorry too,” I sighed in defeat. BB-8 chimed again and I’m sure it’s my mom asking me if I was gonna go or not. “We can talk more about this when I get back. I’m pretty sure you have questions, especially with what’s been going on lately.”

“Can I at least go with you?”

“Look,” I swung my bag around, so that I could rummage through to find my taser, to show him “I got my safety covered, plus Miss Cassandra doesn’t trust outsiders.”

“Fine,” Jungkook sighed, pulling his phone out. “At least give me your phone number.”

“Fine,” I agreed, reaching for his phone and typing in my number. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Noona,” Jungkook said. “You want to watch Star Wars later on?”

“Yea,” I said smiling. “Maybe we can watch Iron Man too.” His eyes widened in shock and he nodded quickly with a blinding smile. How has he stayed the same all these years?

Prev / Next

Masterlist

#jimin #bts #jimin x reader #reader insert #soulmate au #soulmate!au #bts soulmate au #my work #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #bts smut #jimin smut #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst

68 notes · View notes

inkedsoldier · 5 years ago

Text

Chew the Bullet - Chapter One

A Modern Warfare series

Casey Vos is a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces. She has been stationed in Afghanistan and Syria, but now works everywhere they need her assistance. Specialized in counterterrorism and intelligence, she is unmistakably a great asset for the upcoming Taskforce 1-4-1, under the command of Captain John Price.

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter one of Chew the Bullet. I’m going to slowly introduce all the characters while (sort of) following the storyline of the gaming series, starting with the most recent campaign of Modern Warfare (2019). English is not my first language, but I’m getting better at it. Please, if you see any errors, let me know so I can fix it. It’s much appreciated. Well, I hope you enjoy! And please leave a note, vote or message with your thoughts! Bravo team out.

Warnings: guns.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

____________

War is not just a three letter word. It is something worse. Something that can obliterate everything. War tears humans apart, even those who were once so close. Victims of war are over and over drowned in waves of guilt, pain and regret. In war no one is safe. Nowhere.

Returning to a place she once called home was just a foolish thought in Casey´s brain. Everybody moved on in her absence. No one to return to for a warm embrace or innocent chatter. Home was a gaping hole and had long since healed and scarred up. She thought that with growing up in a place full of violence, tears and poverty she had seen everything. But nothing could have prepared her for the life as a soldier. She had seen friends, allies and blood brothers die. The moment you enlist, no matter what age, you either die in combat or live with the guilt of what your hands caused.

At twenty-seven years old she had seen it all. Done it all. First Afghanistan, then Syria - and now everywhere they needed her assistance. As a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces she could be in London one day, and in Moscow the next.

It has been twenty-six months since the last time she set foot in the cosy coffee shop in her hometown of Rotterdam. The air is thick with the scent of the dark liquid. Before she makes her way to the table in the corner of the place she orders a cappuccino at the counter. The first thing she does before sitting down is grabbing the laptop out of her backpack. She would never leave without the device. You could never know when another terrorist cell would pop up with the most horrific intentions. The laptop didn’t look as new as a few months back, but it saved a lot of lives in the meantime. Collecting information and analysing data were the main tasks on the computer to provide guidance and direction in modern warfare. Since Casey came back from the special operation in Istanbul there has been a lot of chatter about Al-Qatala. Unfortunately, the rules of engagement kept her from acting on it.

The moment the barista turns up with her drink a notification appears on the screen of the laptop – a new email from Kyle. “Casey- We need to talk.” A short, but clear message. She winced as she took a quick sip from the overly bitter drink. The lack of cream made it just another caffeine shot. Not what she expected, but something she needed. She met Sergeant Kyle Garrick a couple of months back when working on a case at the Metropolitan Police Service. It was then that he crossed paths with allies of Omar Sulaman, also known as the Wolf, for the first time. “Call you in twenty,” was all she replied before sliding the laptop back in her bag and walking over to the barista to pay for the coffee.

Back in the hotel room near central station she immediately sets up a secured connection to contact the British sergeant. Within seconds after calling in, Kyle appeared on the screen in front of her. “Casey, where are you?” Kyle asked. “Hey Gaz, how are you doing? Nice to see you, too” Casey chuckled watching the intense look on Kyle’s face. “Sorry, Case… but we got trouble incoming. Another one of the Wolf’s safe houses got onto our radar,” he explained. Casey couldn’t believe her ears. “Where?” was all she replied. “South London. Near Sutton. How fast can you get here?” From Rotterdam to London by train would take five hours with a stop in Paris. Taking the train of one o’clock would give her one hour to pack everything and check out of the hotel. “I can be at Saint Pancras at five. Can you send me the intel you got so far?” Kyle leaned towards the camera and nodded, “Great. I’ll pick you up at the lower level of the station, near the taxi rank. We don’t have much, but I’ll send you everything through the server. See you soon!” Casey waved her hand, “Copy that”.

During the train ride to London, Casey poured herself into the data she had received from Kyle. He had send her a map of the safe house and all the intel they managed to collect in the last couple of days. The Wolf was back on the grit with a desire to make the west suffer to gain advantage and power. Sulaman is the leader of the terrorist organization responsible for plotting terror attacks, inspiring sleeper cells and lone followers to ban against world power. He was once a freedom fighter, a leader and a hero in the eyes of the west, but he turned. A lack of will made him intolerant. His knowledge of the western strategic limitations moulded him a kingpin of mass destruction. Both the man, and his movement gained mass support in the last years. Casey rested her head in her hands as memories flooded her mind. She had the chance to kill him a few years back, but a bullet… one freaking bullet stopped her from ending it all. The voice over the speakers yanked her out of the trance. The train arrived at its final destination, London Saint Pancras International.

As promised, Kyle was waiting a the taxi rank on the lower level of the huge station. The area was a seething of mass of humanity – people on their way back home from a nine to five office job, tourists on the move to platform nine and three quarters, and teenagers meeting up with friends for a unforgettable night out. “Sergeant,” she said as she walked up to the six foot tall Afro-British SAS soldier. His brown eyes sparkled as he saw the brunette approach him. “Lieutenant,” he replied before embracing her in a tight hug. “Glad to see you, gal.”

The ride to the Yard was filled with chatter between the two, but as soon as they arrived at the headquarters the talk got more serious. “Did you check the intel?” Kyle asked as they stepped into the elevator. “I did. Got some strategies on how to handle the raid and clean house. There are multiple ways to enter the property, and we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. We both know how the Wolf likes to set up his security,” Casey answered. “Good. I got a team waiting for us to go through the plan. We don’t have much time, but it should be enough to get in prepared,” he replied. Upon entering the briefing room she already spotted a few men waiting in front of the screen. “Lads, meet Casey Vos. Lieutenant and liaison officer from the Dutch Special Forces. She is going to assist us at tonight’s clean up,” Kyle kicked off. A member of the team walks towards Casey and holds out his hand, “Welcome, Lieutenant. I’m Brooks and this here are Crowley and Fowler.” It was a simple welcome, but greatly appreciated. Meetings like this weren’t always easy, especially not when you were the only woman operating in a team of dudes. “Thank you. Nice to meet you. I would like to start the briefing in five. Kyle, are we expecting more men?” she smiled while shaking Brooks’ hand. “Yes, we do actually. Let me get them, so you can set everything up.”

8:45 PM Sutton, South London

The twilight quickly faded to blackness in the small alleys in Sutton, a southern borough in London. Thick clouds blotted out the stars and the moon in the still air. In the distance you could hear the cry of dogs. “Okay, guys. Be advised. There may be non-combatants on target. Check your shots. Watch those corners,” Casey instructed making way to the residence. Before entering the courtyard behind the house, they met up with another team. Casey, Kyle, Brooks, Crowley and Fowler would enter the premises from the back. The second team consisting of three officers would enter from the side, and a third team would enter from the front. “Ready? Good. Alpha-One moving in on the rear.”

“Alpha-One, this is Alpha-Two. About to enter the eastern alley,” one of the officers stated on the comms. “Copy that, Alpha-Two.” Entering through the back door was easy and the kitchen area was empty, but two deep voices could be heard from the living area of the house. Kyle slowly opened the door and dropped the two men, who were both armed. “Secure.” Casey moved up to the hallway when Alpha-Three entered through the front door. Footsteps could be heard from the upper level of the townhouse. “Alpha-One moving to the first floor,” Casey said tapping Brooks shoulder. Quietly they moved in formation and cleared the second floor. “Casey, on me” Kyle spoke pointing to the last floor. Frantic movement could be heard from upstairs. The Al-Qatala members definitely knew something was going on below them. “ I hear two. I got your six, Gaz” Casey said after checking her weapon if it was in need of a reload. The two steadily moved up and ceased in front of the wooden door at the end of the small corridor. They looked at each other and nodded before entering the last room. A woman and a little boy where hiding in a corner of the dark space. “Hold your fire,” Kyle said when he saw they were unarmed. The sergeant restraint the mother and her child, and guided them downstairs. “Case, see what you can find!”

The house wasn’t big, but it was a ginormous mess. Papers spread everywhere – on the floor, in cabinets, pinned on the wall. And not to mention the devices that were present that had to be examined. Phones and laptops scattered all over the place. “Alpha-Two for Alpha-One, we need you on the first floor,” she heard in her earpiece. “Copy, Alpha-Two.” Grabbing everything she already found, she made her way to the other team. “What do you got for me?” she asked the officer. “You’re not going to like this,” he said while turning the screen of the black laptop so she had a clear view of the data. Her eyes combed the display from side to side rapidly. She held her breath to concentrate as if her life depended on it. She started to violently beat her fingers against the keyboard in search for more while the glittering beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. All the fragments clogged her mind and she tried to connect them all together. “Shit,” was all she could say after opening one of the encrypted files. “Get Sergeant Garrick. Now!” she spat to the officer. It wasn’t long before Kyle got to Casey. “We’re in deep shit, Kyle. Check this out. Apparently the Wolf has his eyes on chlorine gas from Barkov. A group of mercs are prepping the convoy as we speak. This is really bad. You know what happens when he gets his hands on chemicals like this.” The Brit was stunned by the info he just consumed. His mind was going haywire. “We need to do something,” he affirmed. Casey knew what she had to do. It was her only option to try to prevent any close encounters with chemicals like this.

__________

Masterlist

Want to get tagged in upcoming chapters? Let me know!

27 notes · View notes