#this has been lying around in a folder to long and i like how it came and so here take it

[seeminglydark]

Always take a quick breather to check on your anxiety mans status✨

Caro and John are from my webcomic Mil-Liminal

[darkbluekies]

Intruder 2024 ver

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Summary: finding a mystical USB in your bag leads to more danger you ever could have anticipated. It leads you straight into the arms of a well respected mob boss.

Warnings: gore, kidnapping, breaking in, chains, crime, yandere

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I thought it could be fun to remake my first one-shot almost 2 years later to see how I have improved! I hope you like the new version♡

Your hands tear through the bag, impatiently looking for the lip balm that is somewhere in the mess of papers, water bottles, wallets and receipts. Your head is pounding, your back is sore and your fucking lips are dry and you can’t think of anything else. You grab the backpack and turn it upside down, shaking it violently until every little thing has fallen out. Receipts dingle down like snowflakes. The lip balm falls out on the wooden floor and when you bend down to take it, you notice that it’s lying beside something that you can swear that you have never seen before. A white USB. Confused, you turn it around, looking for some kind of indication to remind you of what it contains. No tape, no pen, nothing. You sigh and stand up. Before walking over to your computer to figure out what contains on the USB, you smother your lips in lip balm. It gets in your mouth, tasting buttery and putting a greasy layer on your front teeth.

You sit down in front of your computer, boot it up and press the USB into the right port. If you see what is on it, maybe you’ll remember what you have used it for. It takes a few moments before a file pops up at the bottom of your screen. You press on it and are met by multiple folders, all having cryptic titles.

When have I ever done this?

Is this a Friday night drunk act? It would be an answer to why you don’t remember anything about it. You decide to press on one of the folders. Pictures and videos. Hundreds of them. You click on the first picture. What meets your eyes puzzle you. For a few seconds you can’t even process what you are looking at. A mushy red sponge-looking … something. When it hits you that what you are looking at is a dead, mangled body you gasp and shoot your chair away from your desk. A wave of mixed fear, disgust and disbelief washes over you as millions of questions bash into your head. Panicked worries about where the USB came from, who was in the picture, how many more there are like this, why you have the USB and if you would get in trouble and. If you give the USB to the police, would they find you suspicious? Would they think that you had anything to do with this? And will the ones who owns this USB kill you for it?

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your room as your heart beats in your ears. What are you going to do? You have to get rid of it. Quickly.

You turn back to the computer and pull the USB out as quickly as if it was on fire. The grotesque picture disappears. You drop the white stick into your pocket, as if it was really in flames. Just holding it made you feel dirty. You wipe your hands on your shirt, expecting it to smear blood. Nauseous, you run to the bathroom. Despite washing your hands in water and soap until your heads become gnarly and sore, you feel as if you have murdered that poor girl yourself and nothing will clear you of what you have witnessed.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom, how long you’ve tried to wash yourself of sin and guilt. Suddenly, the front door’s lock seems to click. You freeze, listen closely. Perhaps it isn’t your door? You quickly find that it is, indeed, your front door creaking open. Quickly, you get into the bathtub and hide behind the curtain. Your entire body trembled.

“Little thing”, a deep voice sing-songs in what can only be interpreted as amusement. “I see that you have something that belongs to me.”

The voice is unfamiliar, which is only for the best. You’re able to locate him in your bedroom.

The click of a gun snapping in place makes you flinch against the ceramic tub. If he finds you, you will die.

“Don’t try to hide from me.” You can hear the evident smile in his voice. “I know that you are here somewhere. I saw you on that low resonate web cam of yours just ten minutes ago! I don’t have time to play hide and seek with you. The longer I have to look for you, the less fun it’ll be for you when I find you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that all of this is a horrible nightmare. Your chest is burning with fear. All you want is to scream and cry, plead and beg for your pitiful little life.

“Little thing, I know that you saw some gruesome stuff on that USB”, he says, his voice now drenched in false pity. “Don’t you want to get rid of that horrible filth, hm? I can take it off your hands. Just come out and give it to me and I will spare your life. What do you say?”

A silence follows. An excruciating silence that makes you want to claw out of your own skin. You prepare yourself to see him ripping the curtain away and putting a bullet through your skull.

“Oh, would you look at that?” His voice appears again, back to the amusement. “A call from your mother? Let’s answer, shall we?”

Panic goes through your entire body as you realize that he has your phone — and, indirectly, your mother, in his hands. You can’t let your family be involved in this! The more people who know, the more people will be in danger and the harder it will be to get out of this mess.

You hurry out of the bathtub, out of the bathroom. You make your way down the corridor and storm into your bedroom. The man is tall with hair as dark as night and when he looks over his shoulder you can tell that his eyes, as well, are as dark as his ruthless soul. He’s standing in front of the same computer you watched the picture on — the same computer he claims he saw you through. He smiles at you, a triumphed ‘i told you so’ smile.

“Please don’t”, you beg. “Don’t answer the call. Please.”

He clicks away the phone call before throwing the phone on the bed. He turns to you. He’s wearing a black suit.

“There you are”, he smirks and tilts his head. “You look much better in person.”

With trembling fingers you fish the USB out of your pocket and throw it at his feet. He looks at it for a few seconds, appearing clueless.

“Take it!” you shriek. “Take it and leave me alone!”

The man scoffs out a surprised laugh and lifts his eyebrows before slowly bending down and picking it up. He looks at it for a few seconds and then at you, meeting your eyes. They’re surprisingly calm.

“Please, just take it and go.” Your voice is barely audible.

The man stays silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth again. “I don’t think I can.”

“W-What? I haven’t done anything, I don’t know how it ended up in my bag, I didn’t steal it. I don’t even know when or how I got it.”

The man seems amused by your rambling. As if he’s hearing a little kid try to reassure their innocence in a sandbox fight.

“I know that you haven’t done anything”, the man calmly answers. “My man’s incompetence of carrying an USB is not your fault. But you have seen what’s on it. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“No”, you lie and shake your head.

He scoffs. “I saw you on your webcam. I know that you understood what was on it. Do you think I can just let you off the hook and walk straight to the police? Now that you’ve seen me too?”

You are going to die. Holy shit.

“I-I won’t tell anyone!” you stutter and start to back away from him. “I will pretend that I have never seen anything. No one will know. Please.”

Before you have time to run, he grabs your arm and pulls you back to him. You scream and try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. He slams his hand over your mouth, forces your back against his chest. You sob and shake your head, your pleas getting muffled by his hand.

“Don’t cry, pretty thing”, he says. “It doesn't suit you.”

With that said, he pulls you out of the apartment. You can feel the gun in his pocket poking your back. You have never been this scared before, and have no idea what your body will do when it is this panicked. To your surprise, it decides to black out.

For a few seconds you're sure that you have dreamt the worst nightmare in your life, until you open your eyes and find that you aren't in your bed. You aren't even in your apartment. Quick eyes search around. A bunker or a basement. Those are your best guesses. Blood, both dried and fresh, covers the cement walls. You hurry to look around your body to make sure that none of the blood belongs to you. For the moment you seem to be unharmed. But for how long? You have chains around your wrists, ankles and throat to keep you in place. Like a dog. You repeat your name, your background and family in your head, just to not go completely insane. Will you ever see them again?

You damn that little piece of plastic and metal, wish that it would self-destruct and ruin that man's life. Such a little thing got you in such big trouble.

A door creaks open above you and your man starts to walk down the stairs to the basement. He's wearing a black buttoned shirt. He has something in his hands.

“Awake now?” he says.

You don't answer. He strolls over to where you're sitting and crouches down. He reaches out for you, removing some hair from your forehead. You will bite his fingers off if he doesn't keep them to himself.

You glare at him. You wish that your eyes could penetrate his skin and pierce his ice cold heart.

“What's your name?” he asks.

“Why do you want to know?” you ask carefully.

“It might be so that you'll have to stay here with me for a while. Telling me your name will make it easier for me to talk to you.”

“What's your name, then?” you ask.

He smiles, and the smile is almost soft. He seems amused by your counter question.

“Silas”, he says. “Achilleos.”

The name rings a bell in your brain. You've heard his name before. On the news. He's a mob boss. Your eyes widen. You really have screwed yourself beyond belief.

“My name won't hurt you”, he smiles.

“It's not the name I'm scared of”, you mutter.

“And your name?”

You hesitate. You know better than to give your name to a literal mob boss, but you also know better than to lie to one.

“Y/N”, you whisper, hoping that he won't hear and that you won't have to repeat yourself.

Silas makes himself more comfortable on the cold, hard floor. He leans on his arm.

“I have to say that I am genuinely sorry for this”, he says. “I don't like pulling innocent people into something they don't have anything to do with. Especially this kind of shit. I have more important things to do. My man stupidly dropped the USB into your bag and now that you have seen what's on it and know who I am, I can't let you go.”

Maybe you shouldn't have asked for his name.

“Normally, I would have killed you”, he says. “But I think that I'm going to keep you for a little while. You interest me.”

You lift your heavy, chained hands and cover your face. Sobbing. Silas removes your hands and lifts your chin up with his index finger.

“Let's make a deal, shall we?” he asks. “I will not hurt you … if you do as I say.”

“So I can't go home again?”

“No, because the second you put that USB in your computer, and I got the notification that someone had opened it, you’ve belonged to me.”

Beyond screwed isn't even enough to describe what you are.

“So?” Silas says. “Do we have a deal?”

What choice do you even have? You nod shortly.

“Good”, Silas says.

He reveals what he had in his hands when walking down the stairs. A small yogurt packet and a spoon. The text on the packet isn't in English.

“I used to eat this when I was a kid”, he says and opens the lid, giving it to you. “I guess that you're hungry.”

You shovel it into your mouth. It tastes like strawberry and is smooth in texture. It's first after eating it all that you remember who gave it to you and perhaps that you shouldn't have eaten it.

“No, I haven't poisoned it”, Silas scoffs. “Didn't I just tell you that I have planned to keep you alive?”

“You could have lied”, you whisper.

He scoffs again as he starts to remove the chains. The weight drops off of you like angel light. Silas pulls you up on your feet, buy your knees buckle the second you try to put pressure on them. Silas catches you and lifts you up in his arms. He carries you up the stairs, to a hall, and then up another flight of stairs. Your body aches.

Silas walks into a bedroom, dressed in modern interior design. You're placed down on a king sized bed, tucked in under heavy blankets. The crinkle of chains makes you flinch. Silas lifts an identical cuff to the ones you wore five minutes ago.

“This is just to keep you here”, he explains and places it around your wrist. “Sleep now.”

With that said, he walks out and leaves you alone. The door closes. You tug at the chain, but it's obvious that you'll stay there. Too tired to cry, you sink down on the mattress. Too alert to fall asleep you stare up at the ceiling. A thought crosses your mind, quick and easy, buy loud enough for your heart to ache. You have to get out of here before it's too late.

[escelia]

Congrats! Its A Boy!

Here's the second chapter of New Sibling Just Dropped! The inspiration train is still on track, and I've been having a lot of fun writing this. So far, my goal has been to post one chapter after I've written the one after it. I hope my motivation sticks around long enough for me to get all my thoughts typed out! Enjoy!

@flamingpudding here is your best friend mandated update tag! Love ya~

“For interrogation,” his children had said as they diligently separated their hostage and Robin from being near each other. His youngest was absolutely seething, and rightfully so. He’d been cloned several times by his mother, each one of them out for Damian’s head. His children had been right about this one though, he was different in a very strange way. He hadn’t put up much of a fight at all, and in fact had been quite obedient thus far. He seemed very confused and lost in thought. It was suspicious. He couldn’t let his guard down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce had been suspicious when Nightwing and Red Robin dragged a blindfolded child on board. He’d been blindfolded and maneuvered into a seat, but hadn’t struggled at all.

When they entered the cave they immediately restrained the child in their little interrogation room. It wasn’t ideal that he was there at all, but they’d get way faster results from the DNA they’d swiped from him on their way there on the Batcomputer than anywhere else. And if he was a clone of Damian, they didn’t want anyone seeing his face. He had Tim get to work running the sample while he grabbed the folder with everything he knew about the League’s clones so far. He could have taken a tablet in with all the digital files, but it was never quite as intimidating as slamming a folder around.

When Bruce entered he zeroed in on the kid’s body language. He was tense and restless, but not in any way that indicated he was likely to attempt an attack. His gaze wandered and frequently settled back on Bruce. He certainly didn’t act like a trained assassin. He started by asking a few questions like his age and name. When he answered his age it wasn’t with any certainty, and he’d either picked a new name for himself or was really good at lying. It was also possible, of course, that he’d been a failed clone experiment. It would explain why the League was so willing to throw him into the fight and then lose track of him afterward.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” he asked bluntly, watching the child’s reaction. He didn’t falter at all when he responded that he wasn’t a clone. Bruce slammed the folder shut and watched the boy startle and tense like he would have to defend himself before leaving the room. The results should be in by now.

“Red Robin, what have we got on the DNA results?”

Tim stared at the screen with wide eyes as he typed something in. He looked to Bruce then back to the screen.

“Uh, I’m going to run the test again just to be sure, but you should sit down B.”

Bruce ignored him. He needed answers now, and while the Batcomputer worked fast, he didn’t want to wait for the test to run again. He had a family to protect. He peered at the screen over Tim’s shoulder and had to grab his shoulder to steady himself. He could see now why Tim insisted on running the test again.

“B? You okay?”

The others started to gather around him to see what was going on. Cass had brought up a hand to cover her mouth in a show of shock. Dick gripped Bruce’s shoulder in comfort and to steady himself. Tim was still gaping, looking back and forth between the screen and his family. Steph bit back a laugh, though whether it was from shock or just because of how absurd it was, no one could tell. And Damian, for the first time, looked genuinely stunned speechless by the words on the screen.

Familial Match Found

Damian Wayne- 99.7%

Relationship: Twin

Bruce Wayne- 48.3%

Relationship: Father

Run again? Y/N

“Damian, you have a twin?” Tim asked incredulously, turning his stare to the youngest.

“I… mother only ever implied– she never said it directly and didn’t bring it up often…”

“Damian, you knew you had a twin?” Bruce asked, his voice shaking with the unmistakable quiver of pain.

“No! I only had the vague impression that there had been another child. It always sounded as though they died. Mother never even mentioned a name!” the boy seethed.

“Run it again,” Bruce demanded.

Tim didn’t need to be asked twice. He was going to run it again anyway. It was just too scary to imagine. Another Damian running around terrorizing the public? One was more than enough! And not to mention the pain that had to put Bruce in; knowing that Talia had hid not one, but two children from him and those kids didn’t even know each other. Would Damian get even more stabby now that he thought he had competition for Robin? Would he get violent over not being the only blood son anymore? Tim didn’t know how they would manage if the two started fighting.

Bruce swept back into the room where Danny was waiting. His chest was tight, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he whipped his cowl off to take deep breaths and look over Danny properly, like a person instead of a threat. If he hadn’t been reeling, he was sure he never would have revealed his face, there was still so much they didn’t know about him.

He really did look so much like Damian that you could mistake him for a clone. Except, now that he was really looking, Danny was a bit paler than Damian. His complexion was a little closer to his own than that of Damian and Talia. Their face structures were the same, as well as their build and stature. But where Damian’s eyes were green like Talia’s, Danny’s were a bright, baby blue, like his. How had he missed that? They didn’t even have the same eye color! How could they have mistaken him for a clone? Had Tim noticed? Was that why they brought him back with them?

“Hey, are you okay?” Danny asked him. He looked genuinely concerned over someone who had essentially kidnapped him. He obviously hadn’t been raised the same way Damian had. If he and his brother hadn’t grown up together, then where had Danny been this whole time? And why did he suddenly show up in the League of Assassins’ base?

“I have so many questions,” Bruce found himself saying out loud.

“Dude, same,” Danny replied, “like why did you think I was a clone? Did you get those DNA results you were talking about? What did they say?” And why had he taken his mask off? If they were heroes like he suspected, then the man definitely knew the number one rule of ‘don’t reveal your identity to strangers.’

“My apologies– Danny, right?” Danny nodded. The man finally moved his feet to take the seat across from the kid again. The door cracked open again and the kid Danny recognized as Robin shuffled in to stand next to Batman. His fists were clenched and his posture stiff, but he was much better at concealing his emotions than the older man was. He stayed silent for now, just hovering beside the unmasked man.

“Do you know who we are, Danny?” he was asked calmly.

“I heard someone call you Batman, and,” Danny pointed at the one next to him, “you’re Robin, right?”

“Stop playing dumb!” Robin snapped at him, clicking his tongue in displeasure.

“Whoa! There’s no playing involved, I’m just dumb. From the moment I woke up to right now, I haven’t had a single clue what’s going on!” Robin looked at him suspiciously like he didn’t believe him.

“What happened when you ‘woke up,’ please explain.”

“I opened my eyes for the first time in this dimension and suddenly some guy was shoving a knife into my hand and throwing me at the tall one in blue. Nightwing, I think his name was? I literally woke up just standing there and then almost got my head bashed in!”

“Your results suggest that you’re not a clone, but there are holes in your story. Do you not have any memory of what you were doing before you encountered Nightwing?” Batman asked seriously. He seemed to finally be under control of his emotions, and if he hadn’t taken his cowl off, he might have been a bit more intimidating. Robin, on the other hand, looked to be getting more frustrated, like he was expecting Danny to say something else and was angry when he didn’t hear what he had anticipated. Danny clicked his tongue in annoyance, noticing that it sounded almost exactly like when Robin had done it, and glared suspiciously at them. They were trying to get at something but refused to say it.

“What did those test results say?”

Damian finally ripped his mask off his face to scowl at Danny properly. Their faces were practically identical to each other. Danny finally understood at least one thing, and that was why their little clan thought he was a clone.

“Oh, wow, okay,” the halfa muttered under his breath.

“Those test results seem to imply that we are identical twins! Mother made it sound like you were dead. Where was she hiding you all this time? What is your goal in coming here?” Seeing a sneer like that on a face that looked just like his own was a weird experience for Danny. The other boy looked poised for a fight and the halfa was glad that, if he was attacked again, at least he would see it coming this time.

“Cool, cool, cool. Always wanted a stabby sibling.” Dani had been a stabby sibling when he’d met her and she’d ended up being pretty cool. Of course, she’d moved on to do her own thing eventually and he never really saw her after that. She was her own person, it made sense that she didn’t stay glued to him.

Robin snapped and snarled at him, pulling out a knife from somewhere on his person (seriously, that was pretty impressive for a human) and throwing himself across the table. Danny was able to phase out of his restraints and float to the side of the chair since he’d seen the lunge coming. He’d planned on telling them about that anyway, but he was seriously starting to get tired of not being able to explain himself.

“If you guys would just chill for a moment,” he froze Robin’s feet to the floor and Batman’s cape to the chair he was on, “I’d be more than happy to explain myself! I really don’t want to fight anyone if I don’t have to. Please?”

“Guys, he made an ice pun and it was beautiful,” Nightwing whispered in awe. It seemed the door had been swung open and the others that he’d heard milling around before had come in to either stop or join the fight that had been brewing.

Robin looked as though he had no intention of letting it go that easily, but Bruce, whether it was because he was curious or because he couldn’t stop thinking of the floating child as his son, hummed and nodded his head to hear him out. The rest of his brigade followed suit.

“Finally!” he was still in his human form, so it felt a bit weird to tuck his legs up underneath him, crisscrossing in midair. All kinds of thoughts raced through everyone's heads from Lazarus Pit demons to genetically modified test tube baby.

“My name is Danny and I’m something called a halfa. I am NOT a clone, I do NOT have nefarious plans, and I DO NOT know why or where I woke up when you guys nabbed me. Yes, I was sent here from another dimension. No, I don’t know why my DNA results came back as being Robin’s twin.”

“Do you know why you were sent here?” Bruce asked while he processed the information the child had given them freely. He would never in a million years admit it out loud, but he felt bad for the way this had gone down. Danny clearly didn’t seem hostile and had no interest in fighting any of them or refusing to answer their questions. He’d just gotten so worked up over all the clones that had been sent to kill Damian that when they stormed the League of Assassins to deal with them and they found what they thought was a clone acting strangely, his immediate instinct had been to be suspicious and protective.

Danny thought for a moment about how to answer the question. He’d already decided to hold off telling them about the whole Ghost King thing, and he wasn’t really sure how to go about explaining the Lazarus Pit thing without bringing that up. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was there. His cheeks burned at the thought of explaining it out loud, but he’d made his mind up.

“I… do know. But promise not to laugh, okay?” They nodded their heads seriously at him.

“It’s to… it’s so I can try being a kid again.” Danny frowned when Robin scoffed at him. “In the dimension I’m originally from, I had a sister and we pretty much raised ourselves. And when I turned fourteen, I was in a lab accident that biologically changed me and I spent a few years after that dealing with the fallout of an interdimensional portal as my city’s only hero. It was hard. And I was tired from doing everything by myself. By the time everything finally settled down, my sister had already left for college, my parents forgot I was there, and my best friends were graduating high school without me.”

He took a deep breath to keep himself from crying in front of these people he barely knew. He didn’t like crying in general, but at least with Clockwork he knew the ghost understood why he was crying and wouldn’t judge him for it. Nightwing looked to be tearing up on his behalf, though.

“I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything I wanted to do in that world. I hadn’t had the time to go to school or develop other skills outside of my hero work. So my mentor from the Infinite Realms offered to drop me into another dimension with the opportunity to try childhood again. And you can tell I’m still a child because I didn’t ask him any questions,” he rolled his eyes, “like what family he was placing me with, where I would wake up, or how old I was going to be.” Danny began laughing at himself, filling the silence while waiting for someone to say something to him.

“So this mentor of yours just dropped you into this world with no one to take care of you? Then why does your DNA flag as this gremlin's twin?” Red Robin asked incredulously.

“Like I said, I don’t know. However, I think I have a theory, but…” he grimaced as he glanced over at the maskless Robin. Knowing Clockwork for so long now gave him an advantage when it came to stuff like this. He had a few theories actually. It was possible that Robin really did have a twin and something happened to him that had allowed Danny to take his place when he was sent here. It was also possible, though way more unlikely in his opinion, that the role of being his twin was created upon his arrival, and the world had retroactively rearranged itself to fit him into it. Something about being an Ancient, Clockwork had said, but Danny was still young for an Ancient so he didn't think it was likely.

“Did you maybe already have a twin? I could be an alternate version of a twin you already had, which would mean…” he trailed off, letting the implication that they were supposed to be the family that took him in hang in the air.

Robin tried to jerk his legs out of the ice, probably not wanting to accept another sibling, let alone one that was supposed to be his twin! But Danny started to speak again.

“But if that doesn’t work for you or you don’t want me around, I can just figure something else out like I always do!”

“Absolutely not!” Batman countered. “You’re twelve and we don’t know anything about your powerset, you are not wandering off on your own!”

“Are you sure? I could just go, like, haunt a park or something,” he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. But it seemed like everyone other than Batman and Robin were vibrating with excitement as they started to shed their masks. And holy crap they all looked alike, their whole group really was a family unit! Nightwing was grinning wide and Red Robin was fiddling with something on his phone. Danny couldn’t have known, but Tim was already drafting up paperwork to make him a legal person in Gotham. There were two whose names he hadn’t caught yet next to them. One of them, a blonde, was holding up her phone to take his picture. He hoped her photo turned out okay with him in it. (Steph was uploading his photo into their group chat with the caption, ‘New brother just dropped,’ for everyone that wasn’t there that night.) The one next to her had dark hair and was quietly chanting, “new brother.”

“You may not originally be from this dimension, but biologically, you’re my son here. I’m not going to make you live at the park.” He moved to get up but was stopped by Danny’s ice. He bashfully muttered an apology before dispersing the ice on both him and Robin.

“You said you were a hero before, so I'm sure I don't have to remind you not to tell anyone our civilian identities, right?”

“Absolutely! My lips are sealed, don’t worry!” Danny confirmed saluting the man before he finally let his feet touch the ground again. He didn't actually know anyone's names yet either, so there was that too. Everyone started to file out of the tiny room; it had felt so cramped in there with all those people blocking the door. A dignified, older gentleman was waiting outside for them with an expectant eyebrow lifted at them. If he thought it was weird that Danny was there, or that he looked almost exactly like one of the others, he was really good at hiding it.

“I’m sure proper introductions can be made after everyone is out of costume and upstairs for the night? I’ve even taken the liberty of preparing cookies and hot chocolate.”

It was like watching a flock of birds scatter with how fast everyone started moving. Some of them even tripped over each other trying to be the first one up for what Danny could only imagine were god tier cookies and hot chocolate, going by their reactions.

“You may call me Alfred,” the man gently greeted him. “What would you like me to call you?”

“You can just call me Danny.”

“Very well, Master Danny. Allow me to fetch you a change of clothes. I’m sure Master Damian has something suitable for you to wear for now.” Alfred motioned for him to follow. Danny assumed that Damian could only be Robin, since he was the only one the same size as him as far as he could tell. He absently wondered if he should prepare himself to eventually get stabbed by his new and unwilling twin brother.

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[alicerosejensen]

Together forever pt.3

Warning: Yandere!leon; kidnapping, forced cohabitation, stalkering, fem/reader, age difference, pet names.

A/N: I wrote this earlier, but I will repeat it again so that there are no complaints: I do not approve of this in real life. What is written here is simply fiction, if you have any psychological trauma associated with this or do not like such content then DO NOT READ!

Part 1

Part 2

He really didn’t want to resort to force, but you simply left him no choice...

Flashback to weeks earlier, when you weren't yet under his protection, Leon was analyzing everything about his sweet angel. Well, ultimately, carrying your once again unconscious body back to bed, of course, the last thing he wanted was for you to get injured, but you never know what stupid thoughts could come to your mind after waking up again, so putting you into bed, he pulled out the handcuffs and chained your hand to the headboard of the bed. Not very comfortable but you can sleep.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to keep you on a leash like a dog at all, but Leon has noticed for a long time that you are in constant danger. Back in that dusty archive, when you reached for another folder, the laces on your worn sneakers were untied. Darling, you don't know how to tie your shoelaces at all! He immediately thought that you could have fallen and broken your neck or any other bone, you could even have died by your own negligence! It's good that Agent Kennedy was around, right?

Looking at how you sleep and your eyelids twitch in your sleep, Leon threw the blanket back over you. He knows that your sleep is restless, in fact, he almost knows about nightmares, but you didn't need to be afraid anymore. Nevertheless, Leon was well aware that a sudden change of situation and getting used to the new rules that he created to protect you would be stressful for some time. However, it was still better than wandering through dark unsafe alleys alone on the way home, drinking drinks in cheap bars with your friends who didn't even bother to call you a taxi. Leon doesn't know who to thank for the fact that you're still alive and haven't been raped by some asshole who would break your whole life. Despite the fact that the DSO pays its people well, this rather applies to agents and various informants who risk their lives, but small archivists like you do not interest them at all. Therefore, his angel could not afford a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood without bastards and drug dealers who would gladly get you hooked on some trash. The door of your apartment was indecently easy to open Leon would have done it without a lock pick without any problems, but he didn't want to scare you, however…

It is now his house completely at your disposal. The refrigerator is filled with high-quality products and not cheap instant noodles whose packages were lying in your trash. Money was really tight, wasn't it? A mug with a touch of tea or coffee that for some reason you didn't want to wash well, an unmade bed with your smell that he liked to inhale so much. The moment he plopped down on your bed, the desire to hold you in his arms just took root in him.

He wanted your scent to sink deep into him, to penetrate into every cell of his body. He just needed to possess you. That's why Leon couldn't wait, especially since you never let him become anything closer than just a colleague with whom you chatted during lunch. At some point, knowing where you live, he even came up with the idea that you were really offended, but there was nothing about it from your correspondence or medical records. Like you just liked being alone.

He was watching you to keep you safe. He walked you home ready to become a savior at any moment, it's not the first time he's saved a lady in trouble, despite the fact that you weren't actually that lady. Not according to Leon. Sometimes he came to your apartment and leafed through your books that he didn't like, but he didn't judge. He was taught to be quiet and inconspicuous, so it was extremely difficult to understand about someone else's presence. The only thing that really started to bother you is that things sometimes rearrange themselves and the old traces of coffee on your favorite mug magically disappeared. Robberies were not uncommon in this troubled area, but the only valuable things in your apartment were a laptop and a game console. Actually, it was important for Leon to know about all your preferences!

Now it was all in the past. You're safe here with him, away from all the shit that can hurt you. And in fact, you no longer need to worry about bills and how to live until the next paycheck. Leon doesn't consider himself a psycho when he lies down next to you, inhaling the scent of your body, pulling you to him, kissing your temple. After all, if you want, he will become the hero of those stupid books for you.

"I will definitely take care of you," he whispers, making you shudder in your sleep after hearing this insinuating voice that leaves no chance of salvation.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Your resistance is really annoying. You are still sitting handcuffed to the bed and there are already bloody marks on your wrist from the skin erased into blood after a steady twitching of your hand.

"I just need to dress you up," Leon says in a calm voice, while his patience still allows him to hold in his hands cute clothes for his angel.

Skirt, tights, and a warm sweater. Of course it's warm at home, but he wants to be sure that you have everything you need. That's just you kicking, yelling at him and crying incessantly ignoring the pain in your wrist.

"Baby, don't make me use force. Enough of this moaning!"

"Let me go!" you shout on the verge of pulling the hated handcuffs even without looking at him. Over the past two days, hysteria has been covering you with your head constantly not allowing you to think clearly.

Leon sighs. In any case, he doesn't want to stuff you with drugs anymore, and then what he was trained as an agent comes into play. He needs to break the will of the enemy or rather his beloved. He didn't want to take emergency measures, but you just forced him. He comes up to you squatting down and takes your face by the chin, forcing you to look into his cold eyes. The prepared clothes fly to a chair that is too far from the bed to reach it, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"To be honest, I didn't think that you would calmly react to the move," you were outraged when you heard his words

"Moving in with you?!" you cry out. Tears are spurting from eyes. "Since when is kidnapping suddenly called moving?! I'm not a stray animal for you to just pick me up and stab me in the neck with various rubbish!"

"I could have been slower, but you just left me no choice. Seriously, I could no longer watch you live in that anthill and spend 10 hours in a dusty room earning yourself asthma. Although considering your problems with shoelaces, I would bet that you would have killed yourself earlier by falling off a stepladder or would have been crushed by one of those huge boxes with folders."

“what?.." a guess flashes through your head.

Of course, he could probably somehow get a dossier on you and find out the address of your residence, but… rearranged things, a mug… Did he break into your apartment? You've heard that Leon was one of the best. Patrick even once mentioned that the president himself constantly praised Leon and his services to the country could not be called insignificant. There are many successfully completed missions behind him, but you have never really cared about it. At least until you yourself become one of these successful missions.

"Your poor stomach won't thank you for stuffing it with these disgusting noodles and chocolate. You need to eat right, honey," his words make you angry "You need a proper daily routine, good sleep, fresh air and balanced nutrition. I can provide you with all this, but you only need to be my good girl."

Leon's hands grab you by the face and his forehead presses against yours when he closes his eyes, stroking your cheeks wet with tears with his thumb, then briefly and gently kissing your lips, which is why you try to turn away from him.

"Heal your head!" another shout and insult. "As an agent, you're probably supposed to have some fancy psychiatrist or psychologist!"

"It's true," he easily agrees, biting his lip and getting back on his feet. It still didn't work out in a good way to solve the issue "One way or another, you will obey me. I just wanted us to come to this without unnecessary conflict and tantrums, but if you like it more, then fine. Sit alone for a couple of days without food and water. And I'll come back later and you'll tell me about your decision."

"Wait!" You called out to him almost at the door when he had already turned the handle. Leon turned in anticipation of your words and probably there was still a glimmer of hope in him that you would accept his love right now without radical decisions. "You can't keep me here! My family and at work will be looking for me. No one will believe that I just disappeared!"

Leon only grinned briefly.

"Oh, sweetheart. People disappear every day and believe me, many don't care about them, and as for your family, they could take better care of you, but if they didn't, then this care falls on my shoulders"

The hope that it was just a way of intimidation for further submission glowed deep in your chest. No matter how much the soul did not want it, the brain still suggested that Leon was never the one for whom he could be mistaken. The sound of his footsteps quickly subsided and occasionally you could catch some rustling and knocking on the ground floor. Didn't want to know what Kennedy was doing there, but fear kept throwing up ideas about some sadistic torture room and the fact that he wanted you to forcibly become his girlfriend made you suspect of possible sexual abuse after which it would be impossible to become the same.

And yet the wounded deer jumps higher, fights more desperately. You tried to somehow take off your handcuffs, and to be honest with yourself, your hand was really hurting mercilessly that you wanted to howl. It will be quite difficult without an analgesic. The search for some kind of paper clip, an accidentally lying nail under the bed or something with which you could unlock the lock was not successful. However, you didn't have the hacking skill either, and the handcuffs definitely weren't from some sex shop. Steel bites into the skin until it bleeds, and it would be worth listening to Leon though in this: no need to make sudden movements. Moreover, there are already enough bloodstains on the bed linen, but you were so absorbed in despair that the brain simply ignored part of the pain, but very soon it will be very hard.

Add to that the fact that Leon decided to starve you.

At first, everything was even tolerable. The stomach began to cramp from hunger only in the evening add to this the fact that you are being kept locked up handcuffed to the bed makes your body exhausted. You cried for several hours, but Leon's mercy did not descend to you. It really wasn't a prank and he kidnapped you for his own purposes, which you didn't want to know anything about.

"Leon?.." is quieter than you wanted, you called him again.

It all seemed like a nightmare. Time dragged on so slowly that it was unbearable and scary from the unknown. You were hoping that Leon had made a mistake somewhere and the police would find you very soon, the main thing at this moment is to stay alive and not dead because you definitely won't be able to win by force against a government agent who has undergone professional training and completed many successful missions. When your nerves calmed down a little, you started thinking about how to deceive him. It may not be possible to escape, but send an SMS or make a call to the rescue service. You've heard these stories when a girl called under some pretext and was rescued, but will Leon trust you with the phone?

Later you heard footsteps. Probably Leon was listening to the sounds that you could make, but you were silent, looking at the door with the eyes of a frightened doe. However, nothing happened.

He's probably gone.

The throat was dry. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut trying to calm your breathing and come up with a plan of action. If hunger helped at first, then as time went on, the thought of food and water constantly stirred your thoughts.

there was one maddening silence around. Your wrist began to itch and throb painfully, the blood clotted, but at the slightest movement it began to bleed. It got dark outside again and it started to get cold. You carefully crawled under the blanket, covering your frozen feet with it, trying not to think about the desired water, especially since you had of blood loss. How long can you live without water? 3 days? 4 maybe 5 days?

"Please?" you whispered softly, starting to cry again and giving in to panic. "Leon?"

You needed painkillers. It was a bad idea to actively pull with your hand, but people often do what is not necessary when they panic and you had enough reasons to worry, but in the end there was no point in protesting. Not when you are on someone else's territory under the power of a physically strong person. And yet, most of you wanted to scream and scream, beat him and fight, and not invent plans to escape and naively rely on his mercy, which probably does not exist.

"Leon!" you called again louder in a plaintive voice, licking your dry lips. "Please… at least give me some water."

Drugs and stress perfectly lead to dehydration. Especially the first one considering that you were sick earlier. But Leon was still deaf to the pleas, it was generally quiet downstairs. Maybe he was already asleep?

By nightfall, the condition only worsened. You wrist was swollen and even the slightest movement caused hellish pain, throat was dry and your stomach hurt wildly that it began to seem that he began to digest himself. Maybe agents can safely endure such trials with dignity, but again, you have never been interested in this. You didn't even have the strength to cry.

Actually, it didn't take him two days because his heart was just bursting with pity for you.

Leon looked at you with such a puppy-dog look when you were sitting on the bed with your head bowed and trembling. Well, one day would be enough for his princess, and he sincerely hoped that this punishment would be more than enough.

Click.

You shuddered from another flash of pain and when you opened your eyes, you shuddered with fright when you came face to face with him again.

However, the handcuffs were removed.

"poor girl, I really didn't want anything," he threw the handcuffs on the bedside table, "But sometimes we have to do things that we don't like, right? if you hadn't screamed, things wouldn't be so bad right now and your arm wouldn't be swollen."

He stretched out his arms to lift you up, but noticed another resistance when your tired body moved away from him, which made Leon look at you with a threatening look again.

"Do you want to sit like this for another day?"

You nodded your head negatively and out of fear allowed him to lift you up to lower you to the first floor.

"Give me some water, please…" by God, this was the only thought in head

"Be patient angel" Leon's lips touched your temple when he put you on the sofa.

The glass of water handed to you turned out to be so desirable that it seemed you were a traveler lost in the desert who found an oasis. And yet Leon didn't limit you to one glass, allowing you to drink as much as you need, BUT in small sips. Given the thirst, you ignored his words and eventually choked, starting to cough while covering your face with your hand. Of course he didn't like it.

"Sure it's my fault, but you have to listen to me!" An irritated male voice made you shrink and look at him with those cute eyes that Leon loves and hates so much because you are afraid of him.

He put the first aid kit next to the table and took your wrist carefully, first examining the deep abrasion. You screamed loudly when Leon treated her with a disinfectant solution and then wrapped her in a bandage. having previously smeared some ointment, but it did not hurt less from this. And then he kissed you on the forehead like a brave child for whom it was a feat to endure such a thing.

"What do you want from me anyway?" you asked, afraid of the answer anyway, because your presence here did not bode well. "I didn't do anything wrong to you"

"I didn't say you did anything to me. I just want to take care and keep the one I love safe. In this case, it's you."

"Me?"

"Exactly," he smiled, sitting closer, "I wanted everything to be like everyone else, but you didn't give me a chance. Good for Patrick, too. And yet, to see how you walk everywhere where there is a potential danger… I just couldn't, Princess. I just couldn't take it anymore. But now I promise that I will take care of you and I know you better than you know yourself! Just leave all the tantrums of the fight. No more bumps or bites. I'm serious!"

Yes, there was a good mark of your teeth on his hand.

Although you didn't smile and were actually horrified by the human diversity, one thing was clear for sure even through fear - he wasn't going to kill you or…rape. The latter is not accurate, but the soul hoped for it.

"Just let's do it in order." You reluctantly nodded knowing that you have no choice "First we will put you in order, I will make you a bath and you wash, then you will eat and we will have a good rest and in the morning I will tell you about the rules with a fresh head. I will give you everything you want: books, clothes, cosmetics, whatever you want, but in return, no resistance, okay?!" Leon's hand stroked your tangled hair and at the same time pulled you closer to him against your will, but even despite a little resistance, he pressed you to his chest. "I won't be in a hurry. We will go slowly, there is no need to be afraid for me, the main thing is your safety, and there will be time for the rest"

And hear the joyful beating of his heart, you hoped only that you would have enough time to find help or escape, but for now… you may have to be not an obedient but a cunning girl, otherwise the consequences can be fatal.

For now, you need to wait for the moment and find its weaknesses.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Caught

Angst (major life event, caught lying, depression)

Chapter 9

 2,430 Words 

(The unexpected happened. Now, Miyeon has to deal with the consequences of her actions that might impact everyone around her.)

“Come on, just one kiss.”

“I don't know, oppa. I don't want to get in trouble.”

Don't worry, no one is going to see us.”

“Okay, just one kiss.”

“See, it wasn't too bad. When do you think I can see you?”

“I don't know. The company is pretty strict, and my teammates and I are busy. I basically had to lie for them to let me out.”

“I really want to see you again.”

“Same, I miss spending time with you.”

“Click. Click.”

Unbeknownst to the couple, their little randevu will have long-lasting effects on both of them, especially Miyeon.

“Seems like someone is going to have a bad day tomorrow,” as the person across the street watches from the shop nearby.

The next day, Irene walks to her office after a long day of practice the day before. As she opens the door, she sees an envelope, picks it up, and places it on the table.

Seated, she tried to find an address but found nothing that would reveal who the sender was. She opens it and pulls out a card with a note saying, “Seems like the company doesn't know how to manage their trainees and stop them from dating.”

Irene opens the folded sheet of paper and sees a clear picture of Cho Miyeon, one of the trainees she personally manages, kissing a boy. Many things go through her mind and the last thing she needs is a scandal of the CEO’s upcoming girl group before their debut. Luckily, they haven't been confirmed, and he says, “I need to take care of this before it gets any worse.”

Meanwhile, Miyeon is running on the treadmill when she receives a message. She sees the name of Irene, her recruiter and the one in charge of her group. She thinks it's an update of her group's schedules and opens it, only to get a vague message, “Would like to meet with you in my office at 10 AM today.” Curious, she finishes her run and heads to her dorm to shower before her appointment.

“Knock, Knock. It's Miyeon.”

“Come in. Take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you adjusting to your group? Are you getting along with your members?”

“Yes, the girls and II are getting along well. We are so excited to debut.”

“Hmm, how are things going personally? Are you feeling stressed or worried?”

“Just a bit tired, but nothing more than the usual?”

“That's good. Do you have feedback or anything you want to share?”

No, the company has been great so far. I really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hmm, I think so.”

Irene tries to hide her irritated expression but can't comprehend why the person in front of her is lying straight to her face. “Then what about this?” as she takes over a folder and places the picture on the table.

“I don't know what this is.”

“Lies, this is you breaking one of the rules of your contract with us.”

Miyeon tries to think of what to say but can't think of any excuse and bursts into tears. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hide it. I'll break it off; I promise not to do it again.”

“That's not going to work. You broke an important rule. I don't think this is going to work between us moving forward.”

“Wait, you don't mean...”

“I'm going to ask you to get your belongings and meet me back tomorrow for off-boarding.”

“Please, don't do this, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I'll make it up; I'll work harder, just give me one chance. We're so close to debuting,” says Miyeon as she cries and pleads. 

“You shouldn't hide the fact that you were dating; maybe if you told me, I could have been more lenient. Don't make this any harder, I don't want to blacklist you.”

“But... “

“Leave, I'm very disappointed in you.”

With her hands covering her face, she exits Irene's office and runs to the elevator. She puts her hood up and covers her face as she tries to exit the building and make it to her apartment. 

“Hey Miyeon! Are you done for the day?”

“Sorry, I can't talk now,” says Miyeon as she tries not to let one of her trainee friends see her crying. She speed walks all the way to her room and lays on the bed crying until she falls asleep. 

“Hey, Miyeon, wake up. You missed practice.” Slowly, she wakes up from her exhausting nap and sees Rose touching her shoulder. 

“Hey, Rosie.”

“What happened?”

“They kicked me out,” as she begins to bawl again. 

“Why? Who kicked you out? From the group?”

“No, from the company.”

“Wait, let me get the rest of the girls. Maybe we can figure something out, but don't cry.”

“Hmm, okay.”

Rose steps out and heads to the other room where Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa are hanging out. “Miyeon is crying, she said that they kicked her out of the company!”

The members rush into the other and see Miyeon lying down, crying her eyes out. “What happened, Miyeon?” asks Lisa. 

“Irene unnie called me into her office and they were kicking me out.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, someone took a picture of me with the boy I began dating before joining.”

“Why, Miyeon? I told you to break it off. Why didn't you listen to me?” said Jisoo.

“I didn't think they would find out. I haven't seen him since joining. Yesterday was the first time seeing him.”

“What's going to happen now?” asks Rose.

“I begged Irene to give me another chance, but all she told me was that I would collect my things by tomorrow.”

“I didn't think they would risk separating us before our debut,” said Lisa.

“What do you think is going to happen with us?” asks Jisoo.

Rose, trying to change the mood, says, “Maybe we can talk to the CEO about it and explain the situation. We can say that she won't do it again and will break up with him. We need to debut.”

“I'll contact Oppa and see if he can get us in touch with the CEO,” says Jennie.

The rest of the girls nod as Jennie heads to her room and calls you. 

The phone rings, and you see that it's from your newest toy. You let the phone ring until you get multiple messages, “Oppa, please answer; it's urgent.”

“Alright, what does this girl want?” as you get your phone to call her back. 

“Oppa, you finally answer!”

“What's the urgency?”

“Miyeon got kicked out of the group by Irene!”

”What do you mean kicked out?”

”Can I meet with you?”

”I get back in an hour.”

”Okay, I'll see you at your apartment.”

You get off the phone with Jennie and immediately call for Irene to come to your office. “Irene, come to my office immediately!”

”Yes, sir!” 

It only takes a minute for you to hear Irene knock at your door before coming inside. “You need something, sir?”

”Can you explain why you kicked Miyeon off the group?”

Irene hesitates to answer, trying to figure out what to say, “I wanted to take care of things before letting you know, but since you are already aware, I’ll explain the situation. 

“Go on.”

”Well, I received proof of Mieyon breaking one of the company’s rules. She hid the fact that she was dating someone and was caught.” Irene pulls out her phone and shows you the picture of Miyeon kissing and holding hands with someone.

”Fuck….”

”I called her to my office and came to the conclusion that it would be best for her and the company to part ways, thus kicking her out of the group as well.”

”I thought you did a thorough background check with all the trainees, especially with them.”

”I thought I did, sir. If I knew, I would have done something about it beforehand.”

”What are we going to do now? The group is scheduled to debut this year, and now they have one member down.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault, I take full responsibility.”

”You should. Maybe I should disband your group as well.”

”No, sir. Anything but that. My members have practiced so hard, you can’t do that to them.”

”These girls were going to be my first girl group, so now look at them.”

“So what would you like to do?”

”Not sure. I’ll come up with something.”

---------

Jennie receives a text message and opens it, “Don’t come to my apartment. I know the whole situation. Can’t talk about it now, but some more information will soon come to you.”

Jennie is disappointed that she couldn’t do anything and tries to comfort Miyeon when all their phones go off. Then, they grab their phones and read the following message: “All members are required to attend the emergency meeting at the conference room at 9 AM tomorrow.” They all look at each other, worried and thinking the worst. 

“Are we disbanding?”

----------

The girls arrive early to the meeting and wait for the news of their disbandment as a group. They look at the clock hung up on the wall as it approaches 9 o’clock sharp. 

They see Irene walk and open the door of the conference room, “Thank you for meeting with me today. I’ll be hosting the meeting today. Miyeon, if you could head to the CEO’s office, he would like to speak with you.

The members look at Miyeon as she stands up and exits the door to meet the CEO for the first time.

”Alright, let's start the meeting. I’m sure you all are aware of why you are here. I won’t waste anyone’s time and just let you all know that moving forward, this group will only consist of you four…”

”What? What about Miyeon?” asks Jennie.

”She will no longer be part of your group. I can’t go over more details of her situation but she’ll need to move from your apartment immediately.”

“But…”

”Let me finish.”

”Okay.”

”You five were scheduled to debut at the end of the year, but now that there are only four members, things will be a bit different. Your positions will change, and your debut date will be pushed back.”

”Wait! We were supposed to be the company’s first girl group to debut. This isn’t fair!” shouts Rose. 

“It was this or scrap the team as a whole and start over. Would you like that instead?”

“No, “ says Rose as she quiets down.

”This was something that the CEO thought was best and had minimal impact on the group.”

Irene goes on to explain more about the changes that will occur with the group. 

----------

On the other hand, Miyeon stands in front of the CEO’s office and knocks at the door. She hears a response, opens the door, and is surprised to see you sitting behind a large desk. 

“Oppa?”

”Sit down, Miyeon.”

”Okay.”

”You may know me as one of the staff members, but my true position in the company is CEO. I’m here to discuss your position in our company. You already know the details of the reason why you are here, and I won’t argue with you about it since Irene has already talked to you about it, right?”

”Yes, she did.”

”So here is what we decided to do with you. You will leave the group you are currently in and the apartment you are sharing with them. I went over your file and saw that you have a promise as an idol, so I decided not to kick you out of the company itself. Instead, I'm offering you a position as a junior assistant to Irene; of course, it would be that or leave the company itself, your choice.”

“But doesn't Irene hate me?”

“That doesn't matter. Sometimes, you need to work with people you don't like or don't like you. So what's it going to be?”

“I'll do it. Is there still a chance for me to be an idol?”

“That is up to you.”

-----------

“I know this will be a change for you all, but I hope you make the best of it. It's up to you four if you debut as a group or not. Do you understand?”

“Yes, we understand.”

“Okay, you can all leave.”

The members exited and texted Miyeon but got no reply. They head back to their apartment, and when they open the door, they see Miyeon’s things missing. 

“Let's check the room.”

They see the door slightly open, push it, and see Miyeon's side completely emptied out.

“She's gone.”

Jisoo notices a folded sheet of paper and opens it, “Look, she left something.”

“Read it it, unnie.”

“I'm sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but if I did, I don't think I would have been able to let you girls go. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused and hope you can debut without any problems. I'll cherish all the memories we've made and will cheer for you four. 

Thank you so much,

Cho Miyeon”

--------

It’s been a few days since Miyeon left the group. The members have tried messaging her but to no avail. They continue their practice, but this time, as a four-member group, they try their best not to listen to any of the rumors that the other trainees in the company spread behind their backs. 

Miyeon wakes up early in the morning and prepares for her first day as junior assistant to Irene. She wears a semi-business casual outfit and makes her way to the office. 

“Good morning, Irene.”

”Miyeon.”

”What would you like me to do?”

”Read this,” as Irene tossed a manual onto the desk. “Make sure to get yourself familiarized. We don’t want another incident, right?”

”No, ma’am.”

”Good, because I will make sure there are no second chances. Now, get to reading.”

Miyeon spends more of the day reviewing the material for her new position within the company. The concept of having time for friends or even a boyfriend is now a faraway dream. Her goal now is to do her best with the second change you gave her. 

Miyeon looks outside the office window and sees her former members walking together; all she can do now is cherish the beautiful memories she made with them, her sisters. 

[cyberchronics]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

so unhinged about him ♥︎

satoru gojo + missing you

★ no real power dynamic, pathetic needy gojo, masturbation, teasing, phone sex ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

satoru knows you can't go on every mission with him. in fact, he wants you to stay safe and sound at home while he makes your problems go away

so why does he miss you so damn much?

he's lying in a cold hotel bed missing your warmth, scrolling through his phone to try and distract himself– before one of your various posts shows up on his feed. everything has to remind him of you, even god damn social media. what a life to live.

satoru is stressed, even more than usual, so he takes a deep breath and falls back on ol' reliable. peeling back blankets and slipping his sweatpants down is the easy part. he barely needs any masturbation material as thoughts of you swim through his mind, but he unlocks his hidden folder anyway and picks a random recording of the two of you.

he's glad you let him have this dirty habit for times like this. he wishes you were here.... he craves your touch, but his hand will have to suffice for tonight. a voice in his head knows he'll never be able to satisfy himself as well as you do.

...satoru misses you :(

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Satoru is halfway through his ridiculously long home video, listening to your sweet mewls as you take his cock, but he's nowhere near close. It's frustrating, seeing himself orgasm for the second time in twenty minutes as he gives you another sloppy kiss. He's been jealous plenty of times, but never of himself. You bring out a weird side of him.

His pace falters as he closes out of the folder, considering just rolling over and admitting defeat. It's what he deserves for setting himself up like this: going to bed desperate and hard. Maybe he'll get better results if he tries again in the morning. Just as he's about to throw his phone on the charger and call it a night, your contact pops up the distinct ringtone filling the room. Perfect timing.

The video call flickers on instantly as he answers, his feed turned off for the time being. You're laid in bed all pretty, blankets down just enough to reveal your choice in pajamas. You're lying on his side of the bed and wearing his shirt. Are you trying to kill him? "Hey, baby. Was 'bout to go to bed, but I wanted to talk to you first." You missed him too? A warmth blooms in his chest and he smiles like an idiot. "Can you turn your camera on? I wanna see you."

Your voice is soft and gentle, scratching every inch of his pathetic brain. He bites his lip to stifle a desperate whine, thinking of a decent excuse to give you. Satoru never minded begging for attention before, but something in him doesn't want to give you the burden of putting on a show for him. He'd rather just listen to your raspy tone and watch the pretty lips that should be giving him hickeys say sweet words.

"I don't want you to see me like this, babe." His voice comes through the phone between heavy pants, still fisting his cock in a rhythm pace. "Face is all bloody and bandaged up, and– fuck..." Satoru cuts himself off with a curse under his breath, hips bucking up at a particularly good stroke. "Yeah, uh... it's just a mess. Real gorey, y'know?"

That gorgeous laugh floods his ears, sending shivers down his spine instantly. How can someone be so damn perfect? "Satoru... are you jerking off?" Satoru promptly chokes on his drool. Was he being too loud? He knows he's never been subtle, but you can't even see his face! "W-what? Nah, babe. I'm just layin' down. Why would you think somethin' crazy like that?" The words come out clumsy, and he trips over them as they come out. You know him too damn well.

"You're not? That's too bad..." Satoru watches in amazement as you turn the camera around, yanking down the heavy comforter and revealing your busy fingers. They thrust in and out of the lube-slicked entrance, making loud squelching noises now that there was nothing to muffle the sound. He's already drooling and it's been less than a second. Why does he keep underestimating you?

"I was hoping we could cum together." Those familiar whimpers come through the line as you fuck yourself on your fingers, a small thump coming from you throwing your head back against the wooden headboard. "Fuck, baby. Feels so good... 'm g'nna cum." Before he can even rush to catch up with you and turn on his video, you fulfill that promise and make a mess of your high-quality sheets. It's a sight to behold, but Satoru doesn't get to enjoy it long.

The camera pans back to your sweat-covered face as you flash him a tired smile. "Love you, Satoru... come back soon, okay?" You blow him a kiss through the camera, hanging up before any protests can be made. Fucking tease. It's a good thing he always screen records your calls. Satoru's never painted his hand white with his thick cum quicker. You always know just what he needs.

He can't wait until he can return the favor.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: sorry that mahito fic pt 2 is late 😭😭 im struggling so much with writing it idk why. also yuuta!!! wanna start writing something for him immediately :3

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Do you think König would watch corn/look at or think about other women if together? Maybe if he was deployed for a long time? 😪

I just meant to answer this ask with a few sentences on how König gives up porn after meeting you but... things got out of hand (again)

CW: Um. Toxic König being shameless with pictures of you. Reader leaves a paused porn stream lying around to teach König a lesson (and suffers the consequences.) Dirty talk & fluffy smut.

Our toxic King has watched porn, yes. He actually had a crippling porn addiction during his late teenage years. He was a bit of a loner due to bullying, found the internet, and the rest is history (this giant’s hormones were through the roof.)

And you know how it is when there’s a lot of spare time in the army... Even now when he’s older and working for KorTac, there are moments of dullness and boredom at the base, moments when nothing else helps to relieve the tension and anxiety.

But... after he met you, König started to get this odd feeling everytime he opened the stream. He feels a bit dirty, almost like he’s…. cheating on you. He can’t quite bring himself to watch it, let alone enjoy it, and so he closes the tab and has a frustrated fap with no other stimulation but his thoughts.

He thinks about the last time you two met and especially the blowjob you gave him. It's actually even better, remembering how you kneeled in front of him, watching up with compliance and slight terror in your big, wet, shy eyes. You always have that look when you take him in... It's enough to make his cock wet even know.

He especially replays the moment when he came in your mouth and how demurely you swallowed every last drop, how bashful and happy you looked when he praised you about it right after. Of course he wants to make sure you do such things to him again, even if it is a bit cruel of him to have his lady on her knees. It sends a distant sting to his heart to remember how you took both the king-sized cock and the generous load in your warm little mouth... And it also sends him to another thigh-ripping, heart-pounding orgasm just to recall your helpless little whimpers and eager tries to please him.

At some point, he starts to use pictures of you as fapping material, whether it be pics you’ve sent him, pics he’s taken of you, pics on your social media… And you would think it’s your bikini pics this guy is after, but no. Mostly, it’s the decent pictures, the ones where you're smiling and looking at the camera with innocent, bright eyes, the ones where you're clearly having fun with a friend or smiling on the brink of happy tears while petting a kitten. Your old thirst trap selfies from a birthday party are his favourite porn from now on. He's been a fool, not realizing you had tons of pictures online... He could've treated himself to them before he even picked you flowers.

You of course have no idea that he’s doing dirty things like that. Neither do you know König has stopped watching porn because pictures of you being cute get him off just as well or even better than pornography.

But things get interesting when you find some old files on his computer. And who cares if you’re snooping around a little bit: König is always snooping around your stuff, the little – big – gremlin. To your shock, you find hours and hours of material, neatly organized into folders labeled in German. They’re from a time before streaming services were a thing, but still, you’re feeling so very hurt.

Annoyed, you want to give him a lesson and deliberately leave a tab open on your own laptop one day, knowing he will come home soon. It’s just to make him realize how it makes you feel that he watches porn (well, he hasn’t watched those videos since he was a young pup, but you don’t know that).

When König comes home, you act like you’re busy in the kitchen. The paused video of a cute girl getting some attention from two muscular men is waiting for him, still on the screen of your laptop left purposely sitting on the table, as if forgotten.

König is quite loud when he comes in, almost barges in, takes off his shoes as quickly as he can, gives you a pitched yell that he’s home… Your heart is hammering in your chest, the heavy footsteps announce that König is eager to see you, but they end in an abrupt silence when he's stopped by the sight of what’s on your screen.

One, two, three…

You count the seconds in your head before König storms in the kitchen.

To your anxious thrill, the uproar is even worse than you thought. He marches to you, visibly shocked, demanding to know what it is on your screen.

You’ve been watching two naked men while he's been away?

Why...? Why would you even want to watch something like that?? The material is nasty, this sweet girl looks like she's being bullied by two rather big men! He didn’t even know you watched… watched porn.

The argument is quite brief in the end. You throw the accusations right back at him, and he just blinks. It turns out König hasn’t watched porn since he met you (other than those few times during which he got oddly uncomfortable), and he hasn’t watched those old videos in over ten years.

He never answers your questions on why does he want to watch all those "sweet girls" being bullied by "dirty men". He simply marches to his computer and deletes everything while you watch and bite your lip in silence.

Then he goes to your laptop and sets all kinds of sites on block. Huffing and puffing as he does that, you can see how frustrated he is that you’ve watched other men and their cocks.

The rest of the evening König looks at you like he doesn’t even know you anymore, both intrigued and suspicious. You know you’ve insulted his tender masculine sensibilities. But come evening, he teases you about it in bed, asking if one big man is not enough for you. That he didn’t even know his girl was so naughty and needy.

Don't you know that his cock alone could break you? A sweet girl like you could never handle two men... let alone two big cocks.

König has never talked so dirty, and you’re left hot and sweaty and embarrassed, thinking how stupid it is that porn is ruining your already red flagged relationship while also giving you the hottest sex yet. How stupid it is, considering neither of you have even watched those videos in reality.

And it’s not enough for König to ban websites and ensure his "naughty girl" doesn't come across any disturbing material.

You now have to repay him by sending some cute pictures of you wearing nothing but your underwear. Actually, he would prefer it that you wore nothing but your smile.

You will send the pictures to him at certain times of the day when he’s away, no exceptions. He will give you further insturctions on the dates. And you better be smiling on those pictures – one of those smiles you have when you see a cute stray cat or when it's your birthday.

Oh, and by the way: you really should change your social media accounts to private. Any pervert could be going through your photos at any given time.

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader I| Chapter: 06 ୨୧

Prev || 06 Lies || Next

— After hyping herself up in the bathroom mirror for half an hour this morning, [Name] concluded she was capable enough to pull off her plan and manage to get demoted to E-class.

[Name] worried she might get herself expelled but looking back on Karmas situation put her at ease. They practically bring equal academic value to the school and Karma was able to get away with a lot because of it. They'd let him off the hook for fights, pranks and persistently cutting class. If anything this might not be enough to demote her.

A few days prior Gakushuu informed her that his father had a meeting to attend later today. The Chairman is constantly praised for his input during board gatherings, which is why [Name] decided she would sneak into his office and replace his notes for some fake ones written with Karmas assistance. She'd make her switch careless enough he could trace it back to her.

Karma also suggested switching Gakuhō's papers for some questionable magazines would be an easier, more impactful trick, he could get Okajima to give him a few, he probably wouldn't be super-compliant about giving them up but when was anyone ever compliant to anything Karma plotted? He got them but he didn't tell her how he convinced his friend to let him have them.

[Name] had never done anything that could get her into trouble at school, what if it went on her record?

"[Name]? You're here earlier than usual."

She jolted back in surprise and nervously held her hands behind her back, "Yeah, I thought I'd have a change of pace today." She was anxiously swaying back and fourth.

"You? Change? That's rich."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Last time I called you at 7 AM you blocked my number for a month."

Gakuhō came up behind Asano and rested his hand on his son's shoulder,"Gakushuu fix your posture."

Asano straightened up, The chairman looks over at [Name], "It's nice to see you again [Name], how have you been?"

"Im doing good, and you?"

"That's great to hear, I would like to talk more but I need to speak with my son for a moment, if you don't mind."

"I’ll leave you to it then, see you around Shuu!"

Perfect opportunity had risen, he was down here, that means his office would be empty this early in the morning.

[Name] opened his drawers and found many, many folders filled to the brim with papers. She wasn't sure how she was going to find the one she was meant to trade out.

She drew out her own papers along with the magazines, she couldn't help but question what kind of perverted friend Karma had that just has these lying around.

She was digging through them when she knocked into one of the opened sliding shelves a file titled "Confidential" fell out from a compartment hidden underneath the cabinet. She got the feeling she really wasn't supposed to open, the forbidden feel to it only enticed her more.

[Name] wasn't sure what she expected to find but it definitely wasn't government files about the moons explosion. They never disclosed this to the public, why would Gakuhō have this? Her eyes rushed through the pages, there was a picture of the culprit, a price on his head, and way too many details to take in. The documents alleged that End class students of Kunugigaoka High would be the main individuals with the responsibility of assassinating the out law. Failure to assassinate him by the end of the year will result in the extinction of the human race.

There was so much to process, she was going to die? In any other situation she’d doubt the authenticity of these papers but everything lined up with the moon explosion. She couldn't even humor the idea anyone could kill that thing based on description of his abilities alone. The files mentioned the creature being 3 meters tall, and a very long list of his documented capabilities such regeneration, super human speed and strength. It would be stupid to believe some high schoolers could assassinate a monster with the power to destroy the earth in seconds. Her future was essentially gone, and Karma, he knew about this all along.

'Did he expect me to go on living, knowing there's a good chance I'll die before I even graduate?’

How could he? He never mentioned this. This whole time he'd let her believe everything was fine. That he liked his class? The stupid bounty on the monsters life was giving him false hope.

She has good grades, sure, but that's pretty much all [Name] has going for herself. Now that she was thinking about how her future was over this all made her realize she never really had much of a future. Nothing made her stand out from the rest of her peers.

The members of the student council are everything she is and more. Not only are their grades outstanding they each have individual talents that set them apart from the rest. That set them apart from [Name]. The students definitely saw it that way, people often talked badly about how she didn’t deserve her spot with the rest of the student council.

In contrast Karma definitely has a lot going for himself. He isn't just smart, he's great at anything he touches. He has a good reason to live. Maybe that’s why he kept it a secret? He didn’t think it mattered in her case?

She felt herself tearing up, not knowing what to do with herself she kept flipping through the documents. Karma let her continue living so ignorantly, for what? So she could die soon without warning?

"[Name]. What are you doing here?"

Just like that she was taken out of her entranced state, "Nothing! I was waiting to speak to you, sir." She hid the file behind her back, ironically all she did was make herself more suspicious. Kaho did always tell her she was a horrible liar.

Gakuhō wasn't supposed to return to his office this quickly, then again she isn't supposed to be poking around where she's not welcome.

"There are serious repercussions for sneaking into my office and going through student files, you know that right? We place value in the privacy of our pupil."

"Principal Asano, It's not student files I'm interested in. I'd like to be transferred to End class."

“End class... What makes you suggest such a thing?"

“I know the truth.”

"You'll have to get more specific [Name], what truth?" He walked over to his desk, looking straight at her, she hands him back the classified file.

[Name] is taken aback when the chairman laughs.

He was being so casual about it still, for some reason, she felt like there was a knife against her throat.

"[Name] you're a good kid, I'd think about this twice if I were you. You'll have to renounce your position in the student council if I go through with your transfer. We really can't afford to have word get out either. You'll either forget everything you just read or you'll have to deal with the consequences."

His eyes scared her, she was in over her head.

His eyes shift to the messy table top, thanks to [Names] disorganized snooping. The duplicate papers and magazines were front and center of the clutter.

"What are these strange magazines doing here?"

"Those are, uh- not mine! I'll dispose of them regardless!"

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep-Chapter 29

DPxMHA crossover Fic

Chapter 29: Pt 2: What They’re Planning

Summary: UA has a much needed meeting about Phantom

TW: smoking and addiction

Word Count: 6399

Equal parts dread and relief washed over Shouta at having been kicked off the case. Now he was no longer excepted to hunt the boy like an animal, but at the same time it meant he no longer had access to information that could hurt him. He had no idea what the Commission was capable of and Phantom would be the victim.  

Shouta stood on the steps of the Commission, lost. He had failed him for the second time that day. Shouta licked his gums, his body craving nicotine. Instead he pulled out a slice of cinnamon gum and began grinding it in between his teeth rather than chewing it. He could really use some coffee right about now…

He couldn’t go back to the coffee shop. Not only was it closed but Phantom’s words rang in his ear. ‘I just need some time.’ Shouta felt strange for thinking this, but the boy looked so pathetic and small in that moment. He didn’t know anyone could look so much like a child while covered in somebody else’s blood. 

Shouta had only seen some of the fight. He was wandering the area in case Phantom decided to go back. There was a weird air in the alley that could not so easily be forgotten. It felt a lot like Phantom. Endeavor beat him to it. Shouta was only a block away when he got the distress signal and was the first on the scene. At first, he could do nothing but stare at the creature on top of Endeavor before he realized it was Phantom. He had never seen him like this and didn’t even know it was possible. Phantom’s voice whispered in his ear, ‘You don’t know me.’

He was right. Shouta didn’t know him, and maybe he never will, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to. It was an easy decision stepping in, even knowing he’ll probably be hurt. Even if Phantom doesn’t forgive him, the kid needs to know that someone was willing to try and not everyone will hurt him. It was worth the black eyes. 

Shouta breathed deeply in, his ribs protesting slightly. He kept it in until he felt his lungs burn and his heart start racing. He exhaled slowly, drawing it out till there was nothing left in him. It felt nice. 

He sent a quick text to principal Nezu explaining he was kicked. Nezu sent another one back immediately asking him to return to the school for a meeting, as if Shouta hadn’t been to enough of those recently. 

Shouta felt a presence behind him and turned around to see Sir Nighteye. The man wasn’t looking at him, pretending to be lost in the night sky. Shouta looked up too, spotting a northern star that was as bright as when Phantom was the center of a storm. ‘How did he feel about the stars,’ he wondered. 

“Evening, Sir Nighteye,” Shouta finally acknowledged. 

“Evening,” he greeted in turn. 

The man was long in all senses of the word. He towered over Shouta by 5in and his arms looked like a broken manakin’s being held together by the sleeve. Phantom had a similar frame, although not as tall. Perhaps he hasn’t stopped growing yet and would still gain those few inches. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of Phantom. He hadn’t seemed that injured from the fight, but he could have internal injuries. Honestly, Shouta didn’t know how he was able to stand let alone actually win against Endeavor. He wasn’t known for going easy on whatever stood in his way, even if they were children. Shouta had hoped that by giving Phantom the folder he could see how big of a threat he was and only use the information for when he can’t run. Oh how wrong he was. 

Shouta should’ve expected it. You tell kids not to fight someone and then they go hunt that person down. Shouta should do the opposite, maybe then his kids would listen to him. 

Sir Nighteye pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his inner suit pocket. The lighter was yellow with All Might’s smiling face on it. Shouta didn’t know that the hero even allowed anything that promoted unsafe habits to use his face in Japan, but knowing Sir Nighteye, he probably got it from the states. Sir Nighteye lit the cigarette without fanfare and deeply inhaled, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He exhaled and the smoke blew in Shouta’s face, his lungs feeling the slight burn. 

Shouta’s thumb and index finger twitched. Sir Nighteye looked down at him and offered him a cigarette, which Shouta took. Habit took over and he placed it in between his teeth. Sir Nighteye held up the lighter and Shouta leaned into it until it lit up the stick. He inhaled deeply, the taste combining with the gum making it even more pungent. It was like burning a foul incense. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” it was said as casually as the weather. 

“I did,” Shouta took another drag. It had been a while and Shouta resisted the urge to cough. “Hizashi doesn’t like it. He said it’s like kissing a fireplace.”

Sir Nighteye laughed but it was empty and had a bitter tinge in it. He had no one who did the same for him. His sidekicks of course protested, but there was only so much they could do. He had no one to come home to or support him to stop.

“You should consider the same. Those things will kill you.”

“Not before a villain will,” He took another drag and looked up at the sky, his eyes lost in memory. 

“Did you see it?” Shouta put the cigarette down and looked at Sir Nighteye. 

He didn’t say anything but the answer was clear. A somber silence went between them. They both understood the danger of being a hero. That was why Shouta started teaching in the first place. He had to prepare the next generation for when that happened, because it will. Shouta knew at some point either his kids would be burying him or he would have to bury one of them. Not many heroes made it to retirement, and those who did were the type Stain was hunting. Smoking was a way to take the edge off, but it also saved you a spot in the grave. 

“You’re going to UA after this, right?” Sir Nighteye asked. 

Shouta side-eyed him. It was possible he had used his quirk on him without his notice. 

“I am.” He answered flatly. 

“I expected as much,” Sir Nighteye watched for his reaction, “I bet you have a lot of school work to do,” he exhaled smoke in his face. 

Shouta nodded. He was speaking in code. It wasn’t safe to talk about Phantom in public, especially on the steps of the commission no less. 

“Allow me to join you,” He walked ahead of Shouta and pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket. He hit the button and a yellow car beeped not too far away, “I was headed there already.”

Shouta rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. He smashed his cigarette into the concrete railing that led to the Commission and discarded the rest into a nearby garbage bin. Sir Nighteye did the same, then opened the passenger door for Shouta. They both got in and the silence continued. 

Shouta had only had brief interactions with the fellow hero, but never alone. They had always been a part of some type of task force, not entirely dissimilar to the one with Phantom. They were civil and even worked well together, but only in a professional capacity. On the inside, Shouta had doubts about Sir Nighteyes motives. He had information that no one else was able to access. It was indispensable while working towards the same goal, but Shouta dreaded what would happen if they were on opposite sides. 

Now they were alone together, probably thinking the same thing about the other. 

Sir Nighteye turned on the radio and Shouta heard his husband's voice ringing out, announcing the next song. It was Saturday, so it was very likely that was his actual voice and not a recording. Being a hero and a teacher didn’t leave a lot of time for radio, so Hizashi would do pre-recordings a few times a week and leave the rest to his sidekicks. Shouta was honestly very proud of him. Shouta had struggled with juggling teaching, hero work and sleep. He didn’t know how Hizashi had time for all that plus his show. That’s what passion got you. 

Hizashi made a stupid joke, and while Shouta smiled, he was surprised to see the other hero’s mouth twitch. 

“Careful, he’s taken,” Shouta teased, but it sounded more like a threat. 

“I’m well aware,” Sir Nighteye affirmed, “I just enjoy his comedy, is all. I think it’s important to laugh or find joy when you can.”

“If you like comedy so much, you should find company with Ms. Joke. You could distract her from flirting with me. She thinks it’s funny considering my status,” Shouta rolled his eyes. 

The hero let out a small ‘hmm,’ sound, “I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting her a few times, but she was entertaining. Perhaps I’ll take you up on that. If anything she’d be a good ally.”

Shouta wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but either way it wasn’t his business. The rest of the car ride was in silence, the only voice being Hizashi’s every so often. That just left Shouta’s mind to wander. He was skeptical of Sir Nighteye’s intentions at UA. While he was All Might’s sidekick, the two hadn’t spoken to the other in years. It seemed unlikely the hero was solely hoping to reconnect. 

He was probably after information regarding Phantom. Shouta would do the same in his shoes. To Sir Nighteye, or anyone else for that matter, Phantom was only a threat. None of them saw him as the child he actually was. Shouta may not know the kid as deeply as he would like, but he knew a scared child when he saw one. Now he can only hope people will see the same.

They arrived to UA not long after. The school was quiet, which was to be expected since most of the kids were off at internships until Monday, and the teachers that lingered in the halls were busy preparing for the midterms. Shouta had neglected his own class’ midterms, being too busy chasing Phantom. That along with the recent League attacks, principal Nezu had taken over planning for the practical. 

The feeling of being watched stabbed into Shouta every step of the way. Sir Nighteye had not stopped following him since entering the school. Shouta watched him out of the corner of his eye before he decided to confront him.

“What business do you have at UA?”

“The same as you, I imagine,” Sir Nighteye responded. 

“I’m positive you don’t have homework to grade,” Shouta responded coyly. 

“I have as much as you,” Sir Nighteye gave him a look. It was clear he knew why Shouta was really here.

Shouta decided to ignore him, letting what happens, happen. He trusted principal Nezu enough to decide what to do with the hero. They finally made it to principal Nezu’s office, Shouta eyeing the hero once more before opening the door. 

Principal Nezu wasn’t the only one inside. Around the large table, sat other teachers. It was only a handful, consisting of Recovery girl, Snipe, Ectoplasm, All Might and Nemuri. The former two weren’t in their hero costumes and looked the most stressed out of all of them. Nemuri, who was usually picture perfect, had her hair in a messy bun and bags under her eyes, probably having been pulled from grading papers. All Might looked like a wet dog, so the same as normal. Shouta thinks it’s impossible for All Might not to look stressed. 

The hero beside him inhaled deeply at spotting his former mentor in such a state and a similar reaction went through All Might. The older hero stood up and approached them. He looked awkward and stiff, like a child whose mother sent him to order their food for the first time. Sir Nighteye looked similar, but had broken into a cold sweat at the heroes approaching. When he finally caught up, the two just stared at each other, their mouths open with words they were too afraid to say. It was a little awkward so Shouta moved away, not wanting to invade their privacy. 

“Principal Nezu, what is the meaning of this?” Shouta had the impression meetings discussing Phantom would be secret. 

“Ah, Mr. Aizawa,” principal Nezu greeted, “and it seems you brought a guest?” Principal Nezu looked over at Sir Nighteye before his gaze drifted back to Shouta. Shouta didn’t get the chance to respond before principal Nezu cut him off, “No matter. The more the merrier!” He laughed. 

Everyone at the table looked uncomfortable. It was bad enough to be discussing such a delicate topic, but to have an outsider's eyes on them made it more violating.  

“Now we’re only waiting for one more person…” 

Shouta looked around the room wondering who could be missing. The door opened behind him and he saw the flushed face of his husband. He had clearly run from the studio and he still had a pair of headphones on. Shouta smiled at seeing him before he realized how he had looked himself.

Hizashi’s eyes widened at seeing Shouta, more specifically the brace around his nose and black eyes. He had told him that he had a small altercation but not that he was hurt or by who. He was going to, but he was under observation by the Commission. Shouta tried to look away, to hide his face, but Hizashi rushed over to him and held him. He gently placed his hands on Shouta’s face, careful not to touch any of the bandages. Shouta looked up at him, an uneasy almost shameful feeling welling up inside him. He didn’t regret stepping in, but seeing his husband’s scared face made him want to go back. 

“You can’t keep doing this Sho…” Hizashi whispered breathlessly, placing his forehead to his. 

Shouta took his hands and led them further away from the heroes. The other heroes were purposely ignoring them except Nemuri, who watched with a smile that rivaled a cat’s. 

“I’m fine, Hizashi.” Shouta tried to soothe. He had put his husband through so much the last few weeks with both the USJ attack and now this. Before, it was rare for Shouta to get hurt, his enemies not even being able to see him coming. “It’s nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix.”

“That’s not the point,” Hizashi looked down at their hands, “How long are you gonna keep doing this? This isn’t just about Phantom, but you. You can’t keep burning both ends. That’s how you make mistakes and a random villain can get the jump on you like this.” He sighed and raised Shouta’s hand to hold his face. He had such big puppy dog eyes, it was hard not to feel bad. 

“You’ve been hunting this Phantom kid nonstop for the last two weeks. You haven’t been this obsessed over in a case in a while. I don’t want to see you like that again.”

“I haven’t been hunting him down,” Shouta defended, “I just need to help him before the Commission gets him.” There was a difference. 

Hizashi looked sad again, and kissed Shouta’s hand. Shouta had put him through so much. It had been days since they’ve even talked to each other for more than a few minutes. He was just so focused on Phantom that he had neglected everything else in his life. 

“We should talk about this later,” Shouta pulled away and Hizashi looked more hurt. “I’m taking a break from finding Phantom, so you don’t have to worry so much anymore.”

Hizashi gave him a small smile but it was clearly forced. Deep down he knew it wasn’t for him, but because something else must have happened. He leaned closer to Shouta and gently kissed him. When Hizashi loved something, he loved something passionately and deeply, people were no different. They became a part of him as much as he did them. Sometimes, Shouta didn’t think he deserved it.

Hizashi pulled away from Shouta slowly, his eyes still sad, “Have you been smoking, again?” 

A look of disappointment graced his face but it was clear concern was the dominant emotion. Shouta looked away again as an admission of guilt. Hizashi breathed in deeply. 

“It’s okay,” he moved Shouta’s face to his again, “we’ll talk later. I’ll have you for the rest of the weekend.” He winked flirtatiously, but it was a mask to hide what he truly felt. They still had a meeting to get through. 

They walked back to the table with the rest of the heroes and sat next to each other, holding hands under the table. Sir Nighteye and All Might were also sitting close and seemed to be whispering something, or more of Sir Nighteye was whispering while All Might quietly listened. He was probably getting lectured about his health. 

“And with that, we can proceed,” principal Nezu announced. 

The heroes all sat up straighter and looked to Nezu. Despite having a chair that made him the same height as the others, he stood on the table like a centerpiece. 

“As some of you may know, Mr. Aizawa has been tasked with investigating Phantom since the Stain incident.”

All the heroes looked at him. Hizashi and All Might were already aware, so their faces betrayed nothing. Sir Nighteye on the other hand looked enraged. 

“This whole time!” He stood up. He looked surprised at his own outburst for a second before sitting back down. “Excuse me,” he fixed his glasses, “That should’ve been expected. It is a public secret of the rivalry between UA and the Commission.”

“Of course,” principal Nezu took over the meeting again, “We don’t believe that the Commission would be well suited for someone as special as Phantom. Besides that, we can’t let a child that clearly wants to be a hero go un-mentored, now can we?” 

“You cannot be serious…” Sir Nighteye sighed, “and I thought the Commission was delusional.”

“Not at all. We believe he would be a valuable addition to UA. Mr. Aizawa,” He looked towards the hero again, “Would you mind sharing what you’ve found?”

Shouta stood up and swallowed a lump in his throat, “Yes. As principal Nezu said, I have been investigating Phantom since his first sighting. Thanks in large part to the students being at internships, I have been able to dedicate all my time to this task. As I’m sure principal Nezu made you all aware, Phantom is not a vigilante group but rather one person with multiple quirks. The reason behind this remains unconfirmed,” Shouta looked over at principal Nezu before continuing, “The process has been slow since Phantom has been able to move much more quickly, thanks to one of his quirks, to get any solid leads other than witness statements. However, I’ve noticed he has stayed around the same area since he came to Musutafu.”

“The Hero Commission was able to confirm as much,” Sir Nighteye interrupted. 

“If you allow Mr. Aizawa to speak, I’m sure he would have gotten to that.” Principal Nezu chastised with a smile. Sir Nighteye frowned but didn’t say anything. 

“Yes, I was getting to that. A few nights ago, Phantom had an… altercation with the heroes Mt. Lady, Kamui Woods, and Death Arms. The latter is in critical condition with both his arms broken and burned by Phantom.” Gasps were spread throughout the room. They all had heard rumors through the Hero network, but hearing it made it more real.  

“I arrived on scene after Phantom had already left, but was able to collect a few samples and even got a report from an informant. It detailed his quirk and general appearance.”

“Did you get any results from the samples?” Sir Nighteye asked.

“I believe I can answer this one,” principal Nezu said in a sing-song tone. He pulled a remote out of his pocket and a holo-projection lit up in the middle of a table. “Rattus norvegicus, better known as a common brown rat.”

“A rat?” Hizashi spoke for the first time this meeting. 

“Yes, a rat.” Principal Nezu confirmed. No one commented on the elephant in the room. 

“So did he kill this rat?” Sir Nighteye asked. 

“Why would Phantom kill a rat?” Nemuri asked next. 

“It was already dead when Phantom melted it.” Principal Nezu clarified. 

“Wait, he melted it?!” Nemuri shouted, surprised. Even Shouta was surprised by that. 

“I think I need to establish a few things,” Shouta spoke up, “The sample I pulled was from a crater in the ground separate from the fight. In the report it said that he was looking at something on the ground before the heroes attacked him.”

“Ah, you figured that whatever it was had to be important to Phantom in some way.” Sir Nighteye connected. 

“Indeed. Turns out it was just a rat.” Shouta shrugged. 

“Not so fast,” principal Nezu interrupted again, “If it was indeed just a rat, why would Phantom melt it? There would be no reason to. I believe that the rat had some kind of emotional effect on Phantom, and that was why.”

“What kind of emotional effect could a dead rat have?” Shouta questioned. 

“Maybe he saw himself in the rat?” Hizashi commented. No one said anything. 

“Regardless,” principal Nezu continued, “we were also able to collect a sample from the rat that was similar to Ectoplasm’s plasm, as it were. I was hoping you would be able to give us some insight into this, along with some of Phantom’s other quirks.”

Principal Nezu switched slides again to one with a complete list of Phantom’s suspected quirks. Most of them were from the Stain and hero report along with Shouta’s own investigation. There were about 8 total and only had a few lines detailing their uses or perceived limits: ice/cold manipulation, flight, limited invisibility & intangibility, and limited electricity. There was an entire paragraph about Phantom’s body itself and how they believe it to be made of ectoplasm, similar to Ectoplasm’s clones or a villain All Might had fought last year. It hid the fact he was able to manipulate his appearance. The list wasn’t perfect and there was always the chance some was missing. The slides neglected any information about All For One, as some of the people in the room weren’t aware of his existence. The list still was definitely concerning. Most of the Nomu’s they’d encountered till now only had 4 before they started to break down and turn unstable. 

Hizashi whistled and the other heroes had more visual reactions at reading the list. Nemuri had almost spit out her tea and other heroes' eyes looked like they would pop out of her head. 

“Hmm,” Ectoplasm thought for a minute, “I can understand why you decided to show me this. While most on the list are feats my clones are not able to do, they do share qualities. Like ice and electricity for example. Ectoplasm naturally has a low temperature, and on a good day, I’ve measured mine to be around 0C°. It is also a fairly good conductor as well. These traits are nowhere near powerful enough to be labeled as separate quirks, but I can see how his body might have adapted to handle those two quirks.” 

So All For One didn’t choose these quirks randomly, but rather because he knew about the properties of ectoplasm already. Shouta believed that Ectoplasm’s quirk was unique, or at least very rare. How could All For One know that much about it in the first place? There were also the warehouses and underground bunkers to consider. The Nomu’s were floating in a green liquid that now under new context seems to have been ectoplasm. Principal Nezu hadn’t given him the results of the tests and for some reason seemed to be hiding it. There were so many questions that buzzed in Shouta’s mind. First being how much did principal Nezu truly know about Phantom and All For One, and second, how did All For One get so much ectoplasm?

“Anything to comment, Mr. Aizawa?” Principal Nezu asked from across the table.

“No,” Shouta shot down, “Only thinking.”

“As for melting a rat,” Ectoplasm paused to think, “Ectoplasm is a very acidic material. When I first started out, I had to go through a multitude of costumes until I found one that didn’t break down after a few uses. The one I currently use is made up of my cells, the same as Mirio Togata’s costume. It’s not hard to imagine it being able to break down a rat or other organic material.” 

“Ah! Thank you for the insight, Ectoplasm,” principal Nezu praised, “Now let's hear more from Mr. Aizawa.”

“Right,” Shouta thought for a moment to remember where he left off, “After the hero altercation, I was called into the Commission to join a task force against Phantom along with Sir Nighteye,” he nodded at the hero, “their representative informed us that we would be tracking Phantom using a device that they developed. Apparently, they were able to track down a type of radiation specific to him. The method isn’t perfect since the same radiation spikes around large clusters of mutant holders or in places where quirks are used a lot. They even listed UA as an example.”

“That just means we can hide him here better,” principal Nezu countered. 

“That’s what I thought of when I heard it, too.” Shouta agreed. “My only worry is the effect of the radiation. It can cause increased appetite, emotional dysregulation and a short burst of quirk power.”

“So puberty, basically?” Hizashi joked. 

“I’m sure it will be no issue since they said UA had similar readings as Phantom. If it does turn out to be a problem, we can look into containing it somehow.” Principal Nezu reasoned. 

“My god,” Sir Nighteye whispered sharply, “You really are delusional! This isn’t a class pet that you put newspaper down for. This is an unpredictable, possibly unstable overpowered teenager that has a history of attacking heroes. Just look at what he did to Eraserhead!” He gestured at the hero across from him. 

The room went silent once more. Hizashi squeezed his hand but looked at him in hurt betrayal.

“Sho,” he said softly, “what does he mean by that?”

Shouta breathed in deeply to prepare himself, “A few hours ago, Phantom attacked Endeavor.” He let the words sink into the air. 

“PRINCIPAL NEZU, IS THIS TRUE?!” All Might briefly transformed then reverted back in an instant, blood coming out of his mouth. He looked like he would fall over. Sir Nighteye helped steady him and they both sat back down. 

“I was vaguely aware of the situation but was not able to get a full report on it yet.” He confirmed. 

A somber mood settled into the room. Something uneasy wafted in from those words at the implications. The other heroes realized what they were up against. Shouta wanted to stand up and defend Phantom. They had no idea what actually happened or what Phantom was like, but he was in a difficult position. 

“I was able to break up the fight between him and Phantom, but in doing so got caught in the crossfire,” Shouta explained. He tried to sound as matter of fact as he could.

“I was there, too,” Snipe stood up. He took off his hat as if he were paying respects at a funeral. “I got there after he had already struck Eraserhead. The boy didn’t make any other moves, but I did have to fire a few warning shots.”

“You scared him off is what you did!” Shouta couldn’t help himself. He had failed that boy over and over again, he couldn’t fail him again. 

“Sho,” Hizashi tried to soothe him but Shouta didn’t listen. 

“None of you saw him. He was clearly disoriented and wasn’t acting like himself,”

“And you know him so well?” Sir Nighteye asked, suspicion laced his voice like poison. 

Shouta bit his lip, thinking what to say, “Before I was recruited into the task force I had… 

brief run-ins with him and had gotten to know his character.”

“You what?!” Sir Nighteye exploded. He slammed both his hands on the table shaking everyone’s drinks, “Why didn’t you tell the Commission? We could’ve avoided this whole ordeal in the first place and be done with him!”

“And let the Commission do god knows what to an innocent kid?” Shouta returned the same energy. Hizashi grabbed his arm to get him to sit back down but Shouta didn’t back down. 

“He is not innocent!” Sir Nighteye rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Need I remind you how many heroes he attacked? You are a part of that number now, I cannot understand why you’re trying to protect him!” 

“He was just scared!” Shouta bit back, “We have been hunting him since Hosu. He doesn’t know who we are or what our intentions are. He was defending himself!”

“And that gives him the right to just beat up whoever he wants? What if he does the same to another hero who can’t handle it! Or god forbid a civilian!”

“Phantom wouldn’t do that! In all his vigilante reports, he never used excessive force against the Villains! Just enough to knock them out.”

“Just like Endeavor?!”

“Endeavors was probably hitting just as hard. You wouldn’t be saying the same thing about him if Phantom was the one on the ground.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” he had a frantic look on his face, “Because Endeavor is a hero and Phantom is a villain. Endeavor has the right to do whatever it takes to take him down. Simple as that.” Sir Nighteye said it with finality. 

“He doesn’t,” Shouta seethed, “Phantom is just a scared confused kid with too much power. He needs someone to help him, someone to show him that not everyone will hurt him! Not some hero on a power trip with no restraint!” Shouta barked out.

“And that’s what we are trying to do at UA,” principal Nezu interrupted, seeing no end to the argument. Both heroes slowly sat back down, but were glaring daggers at each other. 

“Principal Nezu,” Sir Nighteye spoke up again, “I cannot in good conscience help you with whatever you are planning, but if you do manage to succeed,” he sighed, “Give me a call. I will lend you use of my quirk and see the ramifications of such a decision.” He looked tired. 

“Consider it done,” principal Nezu laughed. “Anyone have any questions?”

All Might raised his hand and stood up, “What if we are able to capture Phantom?”

“Then we will treat him like any other student,” Principal Nezu answered.

“Yes, but what about,” All Might’s voice went quiet, “The League?”

He was referring to All For One, but nobody could know that. How would the villain react if he found out that UA had his supposed son? What lengths would he go through to make sure he gets him back?

“I am planning on implementing a dorm system at the school to make sure our staff and students are safe from all outside threats. It will be designed specifically to keep them out and ensure the safety of our students.”

“Will that be enough?” Nemuri asked. 

“It will have to.”

“I have just one more question,” All Might stood up, “Why are we doing this? Why go through all this trouble for a kid who might be the end of us?

“Because that is the best outcome for Phantom, and for us. Would you rather the Commission hold him? The League? We have no idea what their plans are for that boy, but it’s obvious neither should be trusted. Here, we can at least provide him support and guide him to a better tomorrow. It’s clear the boy needs help and some sort of counseling. He is just another victim in this like any of our other students. Principal Nezu smiled, “you said it yourself, All Might, ‘because saving someone is the always the right thing to do.’”

All Might sat back down, defeated by his own words. 

“If that’s all?” Principal Nezu looked around the room but no other hero moved to ask anything. “Now that you know the stakes, we can discuss how to proceed. If Endeavor taught us anything it’s that we have to be more careful in how we approach Phantom. If you see him, act friendly but not overwhelmingly so. He cannot see you or UA as a threat, so no more ‘warning shots,’ hmm?” he looked to Snipe, “Phantom is not someone who you can force into doing something he doesn’t want to. Right now, Mr. Aizawa has the best chance at recruiting Phantom, so it’s best to keep your distance and support him if you can.” 

With that, the meeting was over, but it didn’t feel like they accomplished anything. Sir Nighteye was the first to exit the room, not even looking back at All Might. Nemuri went along with the other teachers when it was clear nothing more was to be said. They all still had preparations to make. 

Recovery Girl walked over to Shouta and Hizashi, who still clung to him like a lifeline. Shouta really didn’t deserve him. He owed him a long talk and explanations. Right now though, he would just take pleasure in his company.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Recovery Girl asked. She had a look of concern on her that said it went beyond his physical injuries. 

“I’m alright,” Shouta said, “just tired and sore.”

“Your injuries probably aren’t helping, huh?” she cocked her head, “Well I can help with the soreness but I’m afraid I’ll only make you more tired.”

“Thank you, Recovery Girl,” Shouta bowed and leaned down so she could kiss his forehead. 

A rush of air filled his lungs and Shouta was able to breathe clearly again through his nose. Not only that, but some of the muscle and leg pain from the last few days went away. She was truly the gem of the school. 

She smiled, happy to be able to help him if only a little, “You better get some rest now,” she warned.

“Trust me,” Hizashi stared him down, “He will. He has a few weeks to make up for.”

Recovery Girl laughed at the threat and waddled away. Shouta and Hizashi both stood up, ready to make the short journey back home and just rest together. Shouta needed to buy Hizashi CDs and whatever takeout he wanted for the next month for putting up with him. 

His mind idly went back to Phantom. Shouta still worried about him but he would make due on his promise to give the boy time. Phantom had his number and address after all. He will come to him when he’s ready and not because he’s forced to. This would be alright.

~🥇~

Only principal Nezu and Toshinori were left in the room. So much has happened in the last hour that Toshinori was still trying to screw his head back on. Not only had he been reunited with his former sidekick (an event he’d thought he’d never live to see), but he had learned so much about Phantom than he had ever hoped before.

Guilt weld up inside him when he thought of the young boy. He was another one of All For One’s victims but at the same time it was hard to look past the family resemblance. Toshinori had to remember that the first user was All For One’s own brother and was just as much a victim as the boy. Still, it was hard to separate the two of them. Phantom attacking Endeavor just complicated matters. 

Before, he could almost imagine the boy as a little kid in the corner of a cell, scared of every outside noise and face. But now? Now Toshinori knew that wasn’t the case. Everytime he thinks of Phantom he sees the cell’s bars pulled and blasted apart like a violent criminal escaping. Adding in his unstable nature, he was a bomb about to explode. 

Toshinori was worried for Aizawa as well. While they weren’t overly friendly, they were still colleagues (he even tried to get closer to the hero but with little success). The hero had gotten too attached over someone who could so easily hurt him. Phantom had already hurt him, but he was still so intent on saving him. It went beyond what a normal teacher would do for a child, let alone a child who wasn’t even his student. Aizawa wasn’t a normal teacher though. When he saw a kid, he accepted that kid as his responsibility and would do anything it took to save them, even at the cost of his life. It was such an obvious cry for help and projection of his own failures. 

Toshinori had heard Aizawa lost a friend when he was barely older than young Midoriya. That’s why Aizawa had to try so hard for his students, even at the cost of everything. 

“What are you really planning with Phantom?” Toshinori asked principal Nezu. He was almost scared to say it. 

He couldn’t help but question the principal’s motives. He kept too many secrets hidden, even with people who were concerned or who needed to know. Perhaps it came from the paranoia and fear that he’ll end up on the dissection table again. 

Nezu had his back to him and was organizing papers on his desk. He turned around and still held onto that smile that had only ever dropped a few times, but his eyes were completely blank and had a manic edge to them. Toshinori had seen that look many times and it never failed to unnerve him. 

“What am I planning?” Principal Nezu said in a sing-song voice, “I’m going to have him take down the Commission, of course!”

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Auror

The Case The Defendant The Witness

Summary: How did your end of course trial get to tangled up with the people you knew through school? And why the hell was Harry Potter the one it depended on?

A/n: Okay, so you guys have a choice bc I have the next chapter ready... do you want it now or in a couple days? It's more Draco and a little more angst... Love you guys and let me know that you think!

I walked into the Auror’s office of the Ministry and talked briefly with the secretary at the front desk before being told two office numbers. One of Nymphadora Tonks, one of Harry Potter. 

I knocked on her door and heard a fumbling before I met a smiling face and wild pink hair. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here kid?” Tonks asked. “It’s good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you too!” I smiled brightly. “I’m here on a case. I need the ballistics for Draco Malfoy’s wand. And the wand if you still have it just to confirm anything.” 

“Oh, you’re the one that got the Malfoy case,” Tonks said. 

“If I had a galleon for every time I heard that,” I joked. 

“Oh I’m sure. The case has been a total mystery. Glad they finally found someone to take it. Come on in kid, I’ve got the file around here somewhere.”

“Thanks,” I shut the door behind me.

Her office was both neat and a mess. Tonks had trinkets everywhere and scattered maps and memories lying about but her desk was completely orderly. She was rifling through an old filing cabinet, her arm reaching down into a space that physically wasn’t there, but with magic, existed. 

“So Malfoy huh?” She asked. “He’s a looker isn’t he?” She grinned. 

“Tonks,” I laughed. “Absolutely not. This is a job that’s all.” 

“It can be both.” She mused. 

“I’m not going to fancy a potential murder,” I clarified. 

“So you think he did it?” Her face became serious. 

“I don’t know. It’s why I need the balliectis. Something just isn’t adding up and it’s driving me crazy.” 

“Yeah, I never did hear why the case was never closed. I thought the wand results spoke for themselves.” She finally pulled out a folder and a long slim box. “Here we are.” She opened the folder, setting the box on her desk. “Here we have it. This wand did not cast any Unforgivable Curses. Not now, not ever.” Tonks handed me the file. 

“You’re sure?” I glanced between her and the paper, trying to make sense of all the numbers and words of jargon that I didn’t quite understand. 

“Clear as day darlin’,” She nodded. “This wand did not kill Dumbledore.” 

I stared at the hawthorn wand, held captive but areas of grey, missing it’s wielder. It begged me for freedom. 

“Actually, I think it says it there somewhere, but Draco was disarmed by Potter some years ago and hasn’t had the wand ever since.” Tonks stole the papers from my hands. “Yeah here. 1998 at the Manor… looks like Easter of that year,” 

“Easter? At the Manor?” I frowned. 

“Yeah, is that important?” She asked. 

“It keeps coming up,” I mused. “So Draco hasn’t had this wand since?” 

“As far as I know, he hasn’t had any wand since,” Tonks said handing the file back. “You keep this. Does more good for you than it does me, sitting here collecting dust.” 

“What about the wand?” I asked. 

“I can’t sign that off until the case is closed.” She said. “Sorry kid,” 

“No, this is… this is more than enough,” Hope fluttered in my chest. “Thank you Tonks,” 

“Any time kid,” She grinned. “And hey, don’t be a stranger,” 

“I won’t,” I promised. “But I do have another meeting to get to,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here,” Tonks laughed. “And say hi to your folks for me,” She called as I went down the hall. 

“I will!” I waved, rounding the corner. 

I followed the halls for a bit, searching for the office number that had the person this entire case was hinging on. 

“Auror Potter.” I held my hand out and Harry shook it. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Of course. I heard that you’re on the Malfoy case.” He led me into his office and we sat surrounded by strewn papers and growing piles of books and various magical items that’s looked semi dangerous. 

“I am.” I said, moving a few files off the spare seat in the room. I set them precariously on another stack of papers that threatened to tumble. 

“So, he’s guilty then, yeah?” Harry said, hopeful. 

“Um.” I said. “Never mind that. Tell me, what do you have invested in this case. I didn’t see a witness statement or any official documentation. But Dr. Dresden said you were the reason this case wasn’t closed.”

“I am.” Harry said confidently. “Because Malfoy killed Dumbledore.” He said it so confidently, like a lion strutting about. 

“Okay,” I pulled out my notebook and quill. “Did you see him kill Dumbledore?”

“No.” Harry didn’t seem less confident despite the fact. “But I was there.”

“How could you have been there and not seen Draco kill Dumbledore?” I asked. 

“I was just below. We were in the astronomy tower you see, and Malfoy was there. I heard him and Dumbledore talking. Malfoy said ‘I’m going to kill you.’ Then Bellatrix and a few other death eaters rushed in and they insisted that it was only Draco who could kill Dumbledore and those were the orders from the Dark Lord himself. Then Snape was there and Dumbledore was dead.” 

“Okay so there was intent.” I mused. “But that doesn’t mean Draco actually did it.”

“How could it not have been him?” Harry said getting heated pushing back from his desk standing. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“No,” I said calmly. “Please, sit.” Harry simmered down, his eyes narrowed in skepticism. “Did you hear Draco cast the killing curse?”

“Malfoy killed Dumbledore.”

“That’s not what I asked.” I said firmly. “Did you hear Draco cast the killing curse?"

“Are you daft!? Malfoy killed Dumbledore! I was there!” Harry stood abruptly, causing a cascade of clutter. I stood as well, seething. 

“Auror Potter if you cannot conduct yourself in a proper manner we are done here and all of your words will be stricken from the record and you will not be relevant to this case.” I said coldly. “Now would you like to answer my questions or are we done here?” 

Harry fumed with rage, locking his jaw. He looked downright dangerous but I wasn’t afraid. I had a job to do. 

“No.” Harry bit out. 

“No what?” I asked. 

“No. I didn’t heard Malfoy cast the killing curse.” He spat the words like acid at my feet. 

“Thank you.” Was all I could say. 

“If you acquit Malfoy—“ He began to threaten. 

“I’ll be freeing an innocent man.” I vowed. “Otherwise he is guilty.” My eyes narrowed. “And I intend to find out which.” There was nothing else I wanted from him. “Thank you for your time.” As I went to leave I heard his voice. 

“He’s a killer Y/n. Don’t let him fool you.” 

I turned back, pensive. There was something in his eyes. A heavy fury. A cold weight. 

The man in front of me was a killer. He had destroyed Voldemort. 

“I can see quite clearly.” I said, storming from his office. By the time I had calmed myself down, time snuck up on me. It was a quarter past noon. 

I had told Draco I’d be there at noon. 

“Shit.” I took breath and drew my wand, aperating to the Manor. I flew up the front steps and knocked on the door. Draco was there waiting for me. 

.

The Confession

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masterlist

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@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz@crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco  @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms   @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston  @jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog  @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel  @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @dudeimnotgonnakms @auriuswolve @carolineesnell

[forwhump]

a/n; I’m sorry I keep posting 😭😭😭 remember when I hated it more than anything ?? now I can’t stop

I actually have a list of requests now (!!!!! 🥹 !!!!!!) & I swear I cross my heart I pinky promise if you asked me for something I WILL post for you !!! if you were kind enough to request smth from me I’ll actually write & post anything you want forever just not chronologically in any form at all, that’s all LOL

I found this first when I was perusing the wren folder so that’s why this one is up but NEXT TIME, next time it will be softer & there will be caretaking I promise

just a little bit of wren’s first night in the district first, that’s all <3 (spoilers : it’s horrible) @ doughnut this one’s for you 😚

tw/cw: kidnapping, captivity, rape, noncon, humiliation, psychological torture, sexual torture, misgendering, transphobia

sexual servant whumpee, creepy whumper

There are a glorious few moments, when Wren first opens his eyes, that he isn’t scared.

He’s in pain — the pain starts before consciousness does. But he isn’t scared. It’s a small mercy.

Instead, he wakes to that pain. Groggy, it’s hard to tell exactly what hurts, a sort of fog much the same as trying to wake from unconsciousness. As he wakes, as the fog of sleep clears, the pain settles and Wren couldn’t tell exactly what was hurting because everything hurts. He groans, and even his jaw hurts. He tries to groan, anyway, but the sound is muffled because he’s gagged, a strip of cloth pulled tight and knotted at the back of his head.

For a second, for a split second, Wren doesn’t really think about it. Still barely conscious, he barely considers the gag, and thinks, instead, of the knot at the back of his head. He can feel where it’s tangled in his hair, tugging at his scalp with each exhale. He’s face down, and as he blinks his eyes open, he doesn’t really notice the concrete, but the sheet of his hair.

Wren doesn’t wear his hair down. Wren hasn’t worn his hair down since he was a very small child, a child beauty pageant queen, and his mother would spend hours brushing and oiling and meticulously braiding it for him. He doesn’t think he’s had a haircut since only a few years after that. By the time he was old enough to decide for himself what to do with his hair, he was proud of it. He has great hair. But he also has really long hair, and it’s a pain in the ass. Really impractical, at times.

This is what Wren thinks about. He doesn’t wear his hair down. Why is his hair down? It’s pooling on the concrete around him, and why would he have —

The concrete?

Everything hurts.

Wren’s gagged.

That’s when he gets scared.

It’s the most scared he’s ever been in his life.

Wren’s been scared before. He would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t. He’s never been scared like this. He’s never felt anything like this.

It’s an infection, a parasite that burrows deep into his chest, into his core, and it spreads through him quickly, churning through his bloodstream, just under his skin. He’s shivering, and he doesn’t notice, not right away, that it isn’t only because he’s scared. It’s only when he rolls onto his back that he realizes just how cold it is, so cold his breath clouds the air above him. His hands are tied behind his back, and he traps them against the ground beneath him as he rolls over. It’s why his arms, his wrists, his hands, his shoulders ache — his hands are tied so tightly at his back his fingertips are buzzing with static.

There’s only a single light in the ceiling above him, something fluorescent. Its glow is orange and its flicker, irregular, buzzing with shorted electricity. Something starts to burn low in Wren’s stomach, and the contrast to the cold in here and in his bloodstream is enough to make him gag.

The room is empty, except for him and that fluorescent bulb. It’s concrete on all sides, an empty concrete cell, and the only door is an iron slat carved out of one wall, the bolted, armed doors of a military hanger.

Wren can taste his heartbeat. His hair is down. What the fuck is —

And he can still barely keep his eyes open. Blinking slowly, he braces his hands behind himself and manages to push himself up from the floor, not far but far enough that he can lean heavily against the wall across from that door. His skirt is flouncy, red and white gingham layered with tulle, and it settles in a fan across his lap as he sits up. His eyes close on their own, too heavy to be —

They fly open again just as quickly. His skirt?

No, it’s —

No, he’s not wearing a skirt. It’s a dress, and only then just barely. It’s short, and it’s so tight around Wren’s waist that it hurts, and it hurts a little worse each time he breathes. It’s a child’s dress, and something about that makes Wren more uneasy than anything else. He tries to swallow, and it makes him sob.

He’s wearing cowboy boots. They aren’t his boots.

What the fuck is going on?

It’s so fucking cold.

Wren tries to stand, leaning his weight against the wall, but his legs are shaking too badly and they give out from under him. He falls hard. This time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

He tries to take a deep breath and it catches on something in his throat, something that makes him sob. He isn’t sure when he started crying, but his tears are cool on his face.

What the fuck is going on?

He isn’t so fortunate that he has to wonder for long. Huddled against the wall, shaking so hard he might be pulling himself apart at the seams, Wren cries. He tries to stand, to pull his hands free, to make any sense of his surroundings, and he can’t, and he cries. For a time, the only sounds are the hoarse, panicked hitching of his sobs and the constant, droning hum of the fluorescent bulb above him.

It starts with a chirp, with a weird, technical sort of beep. Wren doesn’t even get the illusion of relief, of somebody coming to his rescue — something is really, really wrong. What’s going on? There’s another beep, then a series of more beeps, and then a sound, through the door, like muffled thunder.

Wren’s heart beats at the back of his throat.

When the door opens, it opens slowly. A man fills the doorway, and he makes Wren’s blood run cold. He looks like something from a nightmare, something so horrible Wren can’t even really fathom him. He doesn’t look real. He can’t be. All black, a monster, the shadow of a monster, except for the cowboy hat, perched low on his head.

For a second, for a naive, blissful second, Wren doesn’t recognize him. He doesn’t recognize the dreadful black uniform or the macabre silhouette. He doesn’t remember how limp Robin had been.

Beneath his cowboy hat, he’s wearing a mask. It’s just as dreadful as the rest of his uniform, but when he pulls it down, it’s so much worse.

He knocks the wide brim of his hat up, out of the way, grinning down at Wren. Looking up at him, into his face, at his eyes, it’s like looking into the eyes of a violent animal. There’s nothing human in his eyes. Wren recognizes those eyes.

He lurches without meaning to, pressing himself a little harder into the wall.

There’s an intensity in the way he watches Wren that makes Wren’s stomach bubble, acidic. He grins a little wider, and something in the way it pulls at his face is grotesque. Unnatural. He doesn’t have a human smile, either. “Why, good mornin’, sugar,” he says, and he says it with an equally unnatural twang. Is he mocking him? The dress, and the hat, it’s — “I’ve been waitin’ on you.”

So, this —

This can’t really be happening, right? It isn’t. This is — what is this? What’s — who is this? What is he — gingham. This is — gingham. Why is Wren wearing gingham? What the fuck is happening? This can’t be happening.

The train of thought must show on his face and the soldier doesn’t try to hide how much he loves it. His grin stretches. The way he angles his head is predatory. Something in Wren’s chest gets very, very tight. “Why, shucks,” he mocks. “You’re awful pretty when you’re scared, girl.”

Heat spreads beneath Wren’s face and trickles down the back of his neck. When the soldier takes a step closer, he flinches back against the wall again. He doesn’t mean to. His hands are shaking at his back, trapped against concrete so cold his fingers are starting to numb with it.

There’s an even colder, unfiltered terror in the way his grin is fixed to his face, in the way he isn’t looking at Wren, not really, but at the hemline of the dress. Gingham. He stalks towards him like a predator, and he crouches down in front of him, too close.

He’s big. He’s massive, in fact. Wren’s never been a particularly big guy, but this guy would tower over even Robin, all six feet and three some odd inches of him. His shoulders are probably double the width of Wren’s own. When he crouches in front of Wren, he blocks the light with the bulk of him, and tears blur his silhouette.

When he speaks again, he speaks without twang, but with a smug, probably militant sort of confidence that makes Wren shiver, try as he might to help it, try as he might not to let this man see. “My men call me Point,” he says, and there’s something almost condescending in how he says it. “You will not. You will not speak unless you’re spoken to. If you must refer to me, you will refer to me as daddy. If you disobey, you’ll be punished, cowgirl, and I won’t take it easy on you. I don’t care how purty you are,” and he puts the accent back on. “Y’understand?”

Wren can’t breathe. His chest is too tight. The lump in his throat is too big. The soldier — Point? — looks like he’s expecting an answer, and Wren doesn’t have one. He can’t breathe. Against the wall, he shakes his head.

“No?” Point asks, sickly sweet.

For such a big guy, he’s fast. He grabs Wren by the face, so fast Wren can’t do anything to stop it. He cracks his head back against the wall behind him so hard that for a moment, Wren loses consciousness again.

It’s a glorious moment, but it’s only a moment. When he blinks his eyes open again, Point is leaning in, leaning too close, and the back of Wren’s head is wet. Warm.

“You will behave,” Point warns, and the accent is gone, replaced by something lethal, unamused. “You will do exactly as I tell you, cowgirl, or I will hurt you very, very badly.” Wren makes a soft, involuntary sound, and that grin flickers back to life on Point’s face, a thousand watts. “I took a big risk taking you out of there, girl. You were supposed to be put down. You owe your life to me, and I’m not about to let you get away without paying your debt.” He lifts the cowboy hat from his head, placing it on Wren’s. Wren shivers, trying to shake it off, and the soldier moves again, that same sort of movement, too quick for the human eye. He grabs Wren by the throat and pins him back against the wall. “Behave.” He thumbs slowly along the underside of Wren’s jaw as he holds him there, and the way Wren’s skin crawls almost aches. His fingertip catches on the gag. “Now I’m going to take this out,” he explains, “because I want to hear you beg. But if you wanna scream, cowgirl, you can go right ahead. Y’know why?”

Wren doesn’t want to know. He tries to sob, and it gets stuck beneath Point’s hand.

Point, who angles his head and whistles.

The door swings open again barely a full second later, and it’s still more than enough time for the fear to build, and build, and build, and burst into something that Wren shudders with, so hard his ribs rattles against each other. Another soldier fills the doorframe, another macabre silhouette. Another follows it, then another still, shadows that crowd the dim concrete cell, an army that filters into the room, blocking out the light.

Point grins at him. “Because the only men that will hear you,” he explains, for good measure, “are my men, and they want to hear you scream. The only men that will hear you are my men, and they’re just waiting for me to be done so they can have their turn with you. I’m not usually much for sharing,” he adds, finally sliding the cloth from Wren’s mouth, “but we’ve never been allowed a plaything down here. It would be cruel not to let them have my sloppy seconds.”

Cold seeps through Wren’s skin and forms crystal in his bloodstream, a cold that aches from the inside. “Please,” he blurts, and it’s weird the way the words come, not from his brain but from the festering, infected panic in his chest. “Please, don’t, don’t —”

But Point only grins, leaning in so close Wren can feel his breath. “I knew it,” he says, sickly sweet, laying the accent on thick. “You’re prettiest when you beg, cowgirl.”

“What?” Wren breathes, and he’s dizzy. He doesn’t think it has anything to do with hitting his head. “Please, I —”

He’s interrupted by a groan so low Wren can feel the rumble of it in his bones. His mouth tastes like bile and his own heartbeat. “That’s it,” Point coos softly. “There’s a good girl.”

Wren’s breath hitches, caught somewhere high in his chest. He doesn’t mean to, but he whimpers around it and Point makes another, lower sound, so low the hair on the back of Wren’s neck stands up. He leans away, only far enough to peel off one of his gloves with his teeth. Bared, he flexes his fingers, and something serpentine beats around the inside of Wren’s stomach. “Please,” he breathes, and one of the other men audibly snorts. Wren isn’t even sure why, but it makes him sob. His hands are curled into fists so tight the bones in knuckles are grinding together. “Please,” he whispers, and Point slides a hand beneath his skirt, warm against the inside of his thigh.

Wren reacts with his entire body. He jerks away so hard he knocks his own head, still bleeding, back into the wall. Point, for such a big guy, is fast, he’s too fast, and he has his other hand curled around Wren’s thigh before Wren sees him move. He makes this embarrassing, hiccuping sort of sound, trying to shake him off, to push him away, but Point, without sweat or struggle, pulls him away from the wall by his leg, onto his back on the concrete. As he pushes Wren’s thigh up towards his chest, he coos softly. “Good girl.”

Wren doesn’t even get the chance to plead again. Point leans in close, too close, cheek to Wren’s cheek, and forces three of his fingers inside him with a groan like a man dying.

Wren doesn’t scream. Wren doesn’t do anything, actually. He freezes, so tense he can feel the ache in every one of his bones. His mind blanks, a whiteness, a sort of emptiness he’s never experienced before. It’s like everything stops, all at once, narrows to Point’s fingers and the pain he pushes inside Wren and the rumble of his approval against his chest.

“Stop,” he hears himself say, from somewhere outside himself, from somewhere really far away. “Please.”

Point coos at him again. “Oh, cowgirl,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”

When he does ease out his fingers, it’s to push up his dress, the gingham and the tulle, shoving it up and around Wren’s waist. Panic surges and it tastes like bile. He doesn’t think, not really, not coherently, he only panics, and he tries to kick and Point catches him with a vice grip around his ankle. He hauls Wren closer and the concrete is so cold against his bare skin.

“No,” Wren says, and his voice isn’t his own, too breathless, too loud, too high. “No, please, please, don’t —”

Wren would dare say he’s a strong guy — he’s a lot stronger than he thinks he looks like he would be, at least. He’s no match for Point. Not at all.

And it’s strange, almost, or it would be, anyway, if Wren had the capacity to ponder the strangeness of it. He was already scared, a suffocating, delirious sort of scared, a kind of scared he didn’t think would be possible. And still, somehow, Point forces his thighs apart, and Wren can’t stop him, he can’t fight him, he can’t struggle, he can’t do anything Point doesn’t want him to do, helpless, and it’s like Wren hadn’t been scared at all. It’s like Wren, until that moment, didn’t know what it meant to be scared.

Something new rises, crests, and crushes him. He can’t breathe under its weight. He does scream, then, and he doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

Point grins widely. He isn’t looking at Wren’s face. He holds his thighs apart and kneels between them.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. How is this happening?

“Please,” Wren gasps, this hitching, horrible thing, “please.”

Point shifts, pinning Wren to the ground with his weight. Whatever his uniform is made out of, it feels like gravel against his skin. He moves slowly, taunting, as he pulls his belt loose, as he pulls himself free from his pants.

Wren isn’t breathing, not even hyperventilating, just making these hitching, gasping sort of sounds he can’t control. There are so many men in here with him, crowding this concrete cell, and none of them help him. There are so many men in here with him and they all just watch him beg. There are so many men in here with him and Wren has never been so alone, not once in his life.

He wants his big brother. He wants his mom. He wants to go home.

“Please,” he cries, desperate, frantic, almost a wail, most of a scream. “Please, pleasepleasepleaseple—”

Wren, in the end, screams himself hoarse.

It doesn’t fucking matter.

[vidavalor]

Hey Vida, I have some milk chocolate sea salt caramels to share. *Passes the canister*

Have you written about this moment yet? I'm guessing it has come up but I can't recall specifics.

The time loop hypothesis that includes the idea that Crowley figures out what is happening and starts actively trying to influence things helps me understand why Crowley would say this - that he would despair after having been unsuccessful in every attempt he'd made to change the final outcome, to save Aziraphale's life. I know Crowley has some timey-wimey stuff going on generally, like his knowing the future and making all sorts of references to things that don't exist yet... I am very curious to know what you think Crowley's deal is and what is happening for him here.

...

Also, do you think Aziraphale knows from the beginning of S2 that he has fallen? I mean, the other angels refer to Aziraphale as a former angel and principality right to his face, don't they? I remember wondering about this the first time I watched the second series. I kept waiting for the show to clarify just what exactly Aziraphale's status was...

Well, this is a more oddly worded question than I remembered. One cannot simply be "a bit of" a fallen angel wtf game are you guys (gn) playing at? Leave that perfectly frosted cinnamon roll alone!

...

Also, I am still full of so much anticipation wondering what I asked you last time! I am positive it had to do with innuendo lol

Hello to you, my fave @iammyownproblematicfave! 💕I am SO sorry about the other Ask-- I determined you asked about the innuendo in the "very nice" scene & I'm going to whip you up a batch of etymology around the insanely complicated history of the word "nice." It got lost in my Drafts folder for a little while there and I overlooked it-- will remedy that shortly! Here's thoughts on these questions and thanks for asking.

On Crowley, time & "too late" and Aziraphale, fallen angels & heavenly rank under the cut.

First, time loop idea and Crowley's "too late" comments... So, anything is possible, right? That said, I don't think it's a time loop because I think there are scenes that explain why Crowley says "too late" at the end of that episode. I wrote about how it ties to unicorns & Wee Morag a bit in another post and I'll link it at the bottom of this one.

Basically, Crowley's anxious in that scene where he threatens Gabriel and then says that "it's always too late." Crowley's memory is iffy-- he admits as much to Gabriel later in S2-- and even if he was lying to Saraqael and/or Furfur about not remembering them, we know he struggles to recall all of his memories from when he was an angel. One memory that he felt confident about was the one he told Beez earlier in the season-- that The Book of Life is bunk that he and Beez made up to tease some of the more innocent angels. It is likely that this memory of Crowley's is correct. I say that because Beez seemed to think it possible when they heard it-- but then Beez felt like a fool at the thought that they'd been threatened by Heaven with something that didn't exist and that they themselves and Crowley made up. They doubled-down and insisted to Crowley that The Book of Life was real.

Crowley suddenly thought that Beez might be right because, hey, they'd run Hell for so long, they'd know more than he would, right? He starts to doubt his own recollection and he rushes back to the bookshop to help protect Gabriel as a way of protecting Aziraphale because he now is terrified that Aziraphale could be erased from existence if he is caught helping Gabriel. He doesn't want to tell Aziraphale that Beez reached out to him because he knows Aziraphale is sensitive about the fact that none of the angels have talked to Aziraphale in years and that their only source of intel is a demon with a thing for Crowley (Shax) so Crowley doesn't ever tell Aziraphale how scared he is about The Book of Life. Meanwhile, even though Gabriel is basically on their side now, Crowley can't exactly ask him if it's real or not because dude only knows Buddy Holly songs for basically the whole season lol.

So, in addition to worrying that Aziraphale is spiraling (because he is) and that helping Gabriel could mean that Aziraphale is risking his mental health and a fall, Crowley is also now terrified that Aziraphale could be made to have never existed. It's on his mind so much that he growls at Gabriel in that episode-ending scene that Aziraphale could be "risking his existence" for Gabriel and then muses about how it might be "too late-- it's always too late..." I don't think this is a time loop indication. I think it's a reference to other times Crowley has said "too late" in the past, like the unicorns and when Wee Morag died. It's about how it might be too late for him and Aziraphale and they might be running out of time and be on a collision course with death while not knowing it-- like how Elspeth never saw the fact that it was her last night with Wee Morag coming. It's Crowley's anxiety talking. Crowley thinks it's too late to turn back now because they're already helping Gabriel and Shax is sniffing around and they might be nearly out of time.

Crowley does have some time-related stuff happening in his story and the ability to control it but it seems to me more likely that Crowley's ability to remember that he has control of it has been taken from him in the present in S2 than it is that he's in a time loop. In the disaster kiss scene with Aziraphale, Aziraphale is really obviously signaling to Crowley a request that he freeze time. (It's obvious to us, I mean-- Aziraphale hid it from The Metatron by curving his hand.) He was trying to get Crowley to do what he did on the tarmac in S1 when he stopped everything and took them and Adam to a little time out cloud to help Adam figure out how to deal with Satan.

Crowley, though, just kind of stares at Aziraphale, even though this is literally one of the most recognizable hand signals on the planet. He also didn't just do it himself at the start of the conversation. If I were the villains, I'd be damn sure that Crowley didn't remember that he could freeze time after S1 and Crowley was gone all night before this scene (which he also doesn't seem to totally realize, no matter how many people around him keep commenting on how it's now morning.) The story, to me, seems to be suggesting that the Crowley & time stuff in S2 is that he doesn't recall that he can control it.

re: Aziraphale and what his angelic status/rank is in S1-- the cherub/principality/"you've been a bit of a fallen angel" bit...

When Michael and the other angels corner Aziraphale in S1 and Michael says that they've been learning some "disturbing things" about Aziraphale and that he's "been a bit of a fallen angel", the disturbing things are, imo, the photos of Aziraphale and Crowley that Michael has dug up. (Hypocritical much on Michael's part? Their phone chats with Ligur? That Gabriel knows about and lets them get away with but Michael wants to go after Aziraphale for having a relationship with Crowley? Yeah. Gross.) Michael and Uriel are threatening Aziraphale with a fall in the scene when they corner him. Uriel says "and don't think your boyfriend in the dark sunglasses will get you special treatment in Hell." They're using their power to threaten to cast him out as a way of trying to intimidate Aziraphale, which is another way of showing how political falling is and how it's all kind of b.s..

A demon is a fallen angel, by definition. That's the definition of a demon. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the demons are all evil-- that they're devout followers of Satan and horrible people and to associate with them is to sully yourself with their satanicness and all that lol. In reality, there are some evil demons-- Satan is evil, Ligur was pretty bad-- but there are also some evil as fuck angels... The Metatron at the top of that list. In reality, the demons are the angels who put notes in the metaphorical suggestion box. They stood up and spoke out and questioned things. They're the curious, free-thinking "troublemakers" whose questioning of authority threatened to crumble The Metatron's power so he reacted by ostracizing them. He made a sense of the demons being "other" and evil. He invented Hell and banished them all to it-- lumping curious rebels like Crowley in with evil like Lucifer/Satan and using them as examples of what happens to those who dare to question. There really is no such thing as "a demon"-- there are just angels who have been told they're no good and that they've been cast out and are part of the collective owned by and working for Satan.

In S2, we get another bit of info about a fall when Gabriel falls. The Metatron can't send Gabriel to Hell like he would other angels because he did that once with Lucifer/Satan-- the last one to have Gabriel's job before Gabriel-- and once is "a good story" (meaning, once is a cautionary tale that keeps angels in line) but twice would suggest "an institutional problem"... twice would cause a rebellion. Twice would show that the problem is really Heaven. But, The Metatron has to do something with Gabriel, so he's going to erase Gabriel's memories (he tries to before Gabriel enacts Operation Fly and saves his memories thanks to Beez) and cast him down to a new rank of angel that they've just added to the bottom of the pile-- just for Gabriel lol. It's all political, which is how Crowley and Beez fell back in the day as well. They were caught up with Lucifer and held up as examples of evil when it seems that they really were just looking for others who were questioning things, too.

Does Aziraphale realize he's falling in S2? I think there's some language in the kiss disaster scene that indicates he suspects he might be and that he doesn't fully trust in what The Metatron is offering him-- or that that's really The Metatron. I don't think he realized he was falling until that point. It's a question, though, of what a fall really is. There are many ways to fall. You can literally fall from a great height. You can fall in rank. Both of these things happen during a fall from Heaven, in Good Omens, from what we've been told, but there are other types of fall. You can also fall in love. You can fall into despair. These ones? Aziraphale knew about. He fell in love with Crowley a long time ago and despair is always something he's working at keeping at bay, sometimes more successfully than others. In the end, his fall from Heaven is tied to both of those other kinds of falls.

But is Aziraphale already something of a fallen angel, like you asked? What of the fact that he was a cherub at one point and is a principality? Which is higher rank? We are told in the book that people "make jokes" about the fact that Aziraphale has both of those ranks. The word 'joke' comes from the Latin jocus, which literally means 'wordplay' and I think maybe looking at the different kinds of rank in Heaven through that angle might be worth a look. (Me? Taking a wordplay angle? Who would've ever thought? lol)

Who outranks who can be shown to us by how the characters behave in the scenes but the ranks of angels are more about what the words mean than about exactly which level that rank is, I think. For instance, there is some evidence that a throne and a dominion are the same level of rank-- that an angel can be both at once... which makes more sense when you consider the power aspects of those words and that here's our throne/dominion leaving his chair to dominate his plants in S1:

People are complex and need more words than one title might allow.

Aziraphale can be a cherub and a principality because once you start to get into the meanings of all of these words, you can see that which ones are given to Crowley and Aziraphale are done because of how they support who the characters are-- and how they overlap. I have a meta that I've been playing with from time to time about the different meanings of principality/dominion/throne and how Crowley and Aziraphale are both really all of them. I'll try to finish that one up soon. If you look at wordplay around the word "rank" itself, though...

...a rank is a placement or a position in military order, yeah, but it's also a bad smell. Something that is rank is something that is foul and offensive. One of the themes of the show to me seems to be that, whether you're an angel or a demon or a human, you possess your own power and no one can take that away from you unless you let them. Empowerment and freedom is the realization of that. We're all equal beings. The characters who are the least interested with power systems-- the ones who have freed themselves from concern about it and live as independently as they are able-- are the ones who view others as autonomous beings and do not support oppression of others. They are the least rank because they are dismissive of the idea of rank itself.

So, while we're having fun with words here... those who are the least rank are also probably not rank in the scent sense of the word, too lol. This would be why we have a multiple scenes devoted to how everyone is in a faint over how great Crowley smells. He's the least rank of them all-- in every way possible. 😉

The other "too late"-related meta:

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

When life catches up

Ch.3

The day at work came to an end and Y/n cleaned her desk so that she could get down to Craig which had texted her 5 minutes ago that he is waiting for her downstairs in the car park. She put the last paperwork of the day in her bag deciding that she would be finishing this one at home when she came back. Because why should she go to bed if she could still work and not think about what her life has come to. Not think about how tausend of people could die if she and the FBI would do one thing wrong.

She was afraid and she tried desperately to shut down her emotions. But it would not work and working her self to the point of exhaustion only worked for a short period of time. But that wouldn’t stop her from still doing it.

Gibbs was the only other person left in the building when she took her full bag and made her way to the elevator. “Good night Gibbs” he didn’t even look up from what he was doing. “Well I’m off” she turned around and pressed the button to call the elevator. “You know you shouldn’t take all that work home with you it isn’t good. I speak from experience” he still didn’t look up but it made her turn around to him again. “What do you mean?” She put her long fringe behind her ear.

At last he looked up he even stood up and moved over to her. “I haven’t said anything the last couple of weeks but I do notice things. You have been avoiding us. You don’t sleep and you take work with you. It isn’t healthy you know. You should rest” she exhaled. “I’m fine Gibbs. It’s nothing.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing she was lying straight to him. “It wasn’t a question. I know you’re going through something right now what it is I have no idea as it seems you’re not comfortable enough to tell any of us… but you’re going on a break. Give me the documents.” He was holding his hand out to her. She was shocked. “What do you mean go on a break. I can’t… I… what would I even do? I can’t just stop right now!” A single tear was rolling down her cheek simply because of frustration and exhaustion. “You know what Gibbs here. Here you go” she was pulling out the folder of documents laying it down on the nearest surface. Without saying anything more she walked over to the elevator and got in. Leaving him behind.

He didn’t know how to feel. A man like Gibbs wasn’t known to have many feelings but right now he felt many emotions. He felt bad because she was clearly not in a good place. Bad because she wouldn’t let him help her and frustrated because he was helping her but she wouldn’t let him. He wanted to run to her telling her he was sorry and that she should let him fix things. Let him fix her problems. Let him hold her so she could sleep well. But he didn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that because their relationship wasn’t like that. She didn’t know about his feelings towards her. How he longs to hold her. Kiss her. But he’s only able to look from afar. Be her friend if you could call them that. Because she has a boyfriend now. How? When? Who? He wants to be that for her. But he can’t.

Meanwhile she was looking for Craig’s car in the parking lot. Still being frustrated about the current situation. She was pissed not only was she stressed about working 24/7 for ncis and the fbi now she was suspended from her normal job. She found Craig’s car opening the door and sliding in. “How was work honey” that was his attempt on a joke. “Craig’s please don’t right now isn’t the right time. I was just suspended!” She tried to sound nice knowing that he wasn’t at fault. Well in a way he was but she agreed to help so it really was her own fault. But it was still frustrating knowing she wasn’t able to keep her own live together. “Anyway where are we going now that I am able to commit 100%?”

After months of not posting I found time to write again. It’s short but hey. Hope you guys like it and are still interested in the story. Xx

@thecraziestcrayon @aleck-cross @yourdailymemedelivery @drakelover78 @xxbeckybeexx-blog @nighttimestarz @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @youretoosweetforme @kittenlittle24

[d8tl55c]

scene of programmer021 throwing together the code for the first TCOs: "what if i just give them 100% in all stats lmao."

releases one into a sandbox*

sandbox bricked irretrievably within 3 minutes

ho-ly shit.

..... that's hilarious.

they try like ten more times, each with the same outcome. the little worm is good at what it does, scary good, and programmer is grateful that they went the extra mile with the sandbox layer of protection from it.

at a safe distance, the TCOs are brilliant sparring partners.

*(basically a mini computer running inside of (but held separately from) another computer) (used to test new features without risking a whole system)

on the twelfth go, they've learned enough of its tricks to have more of a chance. both of them take a moment after a long scuffle to catch their breaths. the stick figure gasps on the floor - it's amazing! so lifelike! and programmer is celebrating this little victory for the field of recreational AI right up until

it looks at them.

TCO #12 turns its hollow face out through the screen, looking at them.

programmer is unsettled.

can it see them?

their webcam is off.

surely it's impossible?

right?

and yet, it seems to see them regardless, because not only does it react to their reaction (little twitches eerily realistic, how did their program know to do those things), it capitalizes on their shock. it springs to its feet while they're still open-mouthed and reaches the walls of the sandbox window (which programmer had been herding them away from at all costs), crashing against the side, rebounding, and hitting them again and again.

programmer flails to reconnect to their Cursor (you know when you forget where it is and have to wave it around before you can use it again? like that, but with even more panic, confusion, and imminent peril).

there are cracks in a multitude of funny colors forming at the edge of the sandbox instance. pieces of the window dent out of its normal bounding box. The Chosen One adapts instantly, focusing its hits toward the weak points.

WTF! this has gone way too far.

programmer's Cursor swoops around from out of nowhere and catches the TCO by the base of its head. it tries to breathe fire and only manages strangled puffs of smoke. its legs kick the air. where once it was so elegant and poised it twists and writhes-

programmer drops it.

they feel cold.

their Cursor retreats outside the walls of the sandbox PC, clicking into the main system's File Explorer. already open is the folder with this sandbox, its partition of storage, and setup files inside.

they click it. press Delete on their keyboard.

the TCO tries to stand. it pushes through a dizzy spell, one hand holding the spot under its head that must be its neck, and sprints toward the breach it was working on.

a confirmation pane appears, from the process responsible for running the sandbox.

its arms are strong, but the more TCO_12 struggles the more it's clear that this wall would need way more firepower and concerted effort... and time... to break. it's out of time. it realizes this.

are you sure you want to end this process? ALL data will be lost.

programmer sees when it loses hope, because it abandons the wall. it abandons the whole game: the pride and dignity it fought with, the play-pretend that it held any real power here. it turns outward again, toward the screen. small hands slam against the barrier between them, knock-knocking faster, faster, please please please, its legs shake and give out but it keeps knocking, on its knees, please please please please PLEASE

the sandbox is deleted.

the window that displayed it freezes, lighting up too-bright and desaturated.

a snapshot of the TCO is frozen in place, begging for...

begging for what? it was never meant to know anything. to want anything. how did it know there was anything outside its reality to want?

or was it simply afraid to die?

Windows catches up, and sweeps the frozen program away.

programmer021 is left alone with the spot where TCO_12 used to be.

their friends want to play with their latest stick figures. they were supposed to update today.

programmer numbly uploads the most recent release build they have. killer and BEAST were fun to work on. they'll warn everyone not to touch TCO until.... until programmer works out how to... until ever, and if one of them does, it'll be their own fault.