#he cooperated slowly gaining trust until he was allowed upstairs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softquietsteadylove · 5 months

Note

Can you write a story which thena and gil a childhood best friend but one day gil got kidnapped and everyone assume his dead but not thena her family even sent her to a mental institution to make her better, Year after year past she still can't accept gil is gone, then one day Gil appear in front of her out of nowhere and was like "Sorry to keep you waiting"

"Hi, I'm Gil."

She could always remember him being like that--so warm and open and inviting. She had met him as just a little boy, her age, maybe a year older. And when kids are young like that, one year can be a huge difference to overcome, but young Gil had come right up to her, a gap between his front teeth and the biggest smile she had ever seen.

"Wanna be friends?"

The would become the very best of friends. Always together, always doing something, or nothing, so long as they didn't have to be apart for it. He would play anything with her, even if it was a game 'for girls', or 'babies', like her brother would say it was. Gil would collect butterflies with her, or help her learn to braid hair, or set up elaborate tea parties. They did everything together.

Even as they got older, and even as they gained other friends, nothing came between them. Ikaris still always insisted it was dumb that Gil liked playing with his baby sister more than him, but neither of them cared. And Sersi and Makkari never minded Gil playing with them.

Not even starting school divided them. They weren't exactly in the same class, but recess and lunch were their little moments of reprieve. Gil would share the snacks and lunch he got as a growing boy, and Thena would happily trade away the parts of her lunch she didn't like but knew Gil enjoyed. Everything else could wait, whether it was school, or their own circles of friends.

They were barely 11 years old when Gil went missing.

"Hi sweetie," she could remember a police officer kneeling down in front of her. "Do you remember the last time you saw your friend?"

"Lunch," she had answered, feeling completely numb. She had already assumed something was wrong when Gil was nowhere to be found when it was time to walk home together. "We always have lunch together."

"And do you always walk home the same way?"

There were plenty of questions like that. Thena could remember Gil's family and hers mulling around their home, police officers walking in and out all evening. Gil was missing--just vanished in the few minutes no one from the school had eyes on him and before she rounded the corner from her classroom at the back of the building to join him.

If she had been with him just a minute earlier, it could have saved him.

Everyone told her not to think that way, of course. She was put in counselling, but her determination that Gil was still out there somewhere was 'something to keep an eye on'. The word 'obsessed' was tossed around plenty as well, but Thena had more important things to worry about: Gil.

Makkari and Sersi were worried too, but their support exceeded their concerns. They supported her when she said she wanted to go into criminal psychology. They supported her obsession with true crime and morbid and macabre curiosities. Even if they were worried, they understood why she was possessed by the idea of understanding what would make a person do something like that. And more importantly, learning about what would happen during, and then after the abduction.

For all those calling it a sick obsession, it served her well. It drove her like nothing else. She excelled, advanced quickly and aggressively in all she did. Who cared what the reason was? At least she was doing something, unlike everyone who had inevitably given up on him.

The officers who had hounded her with questions?--gone. The judge who deemed the case cold?--nothing. Her own family--Gil's own family! Ikaris believed it too, but every time he tried to tell her to give up for her own well being they just got into a huge, violent fight over it. So he stopped trying to convince her.

Once she had enough knowledge to begin her own investigation, then it was a bridge too far. The worry could no longer wait, and everyone decided that she needed help. Sersi and Makkari pleaded her case, but her parents deemed her mentally unfit. Even Ikaris stood by as she was hauled away into the back of a van, kicking and screaming for all of the neighbours to whisper about.

Let them watch, she figured. It was a good opportunity for her to remind them that they had failed an 11 year old boy because of their blind eyes.

"Go on."

Thena lifts her eyes and then looks back down at her lap. They ask her this every year, around the time Gil disappeared. There are plenty of other routine appointments through the year, but they only bring up Gil and her past at this certain time.

If she just admits that there's no way he's still alive, and that her obsession is a coping mechanism, then she gets to go home.

"He's alive," she claims outright, nailing another stake in her coffin. Her eyes are clear as she looks at the psychiatrist who then scribbles something in her notes. Thena narrows her eyes at her, "I know he is."

"Tell me more about Gil," the psych asks of her, switching tactics instead of locking horns with her. Not that it gets anyone anywhere.

Thena sighs. She has nothing better to do, staring out the window of the office and at the leaves changing. "Gil was...the best."

"Gil was sweet. He was sweet in a way boys usually aren't, especially so young. But he liked playing quiet games or drawing or playing house more than he did roughhousing. Other kids called him names for it, of course, but he didn't care."

She smiles.

"We would play house, and he would braid my hair and wave me off to work," she laughs at the memory of how they thought the world worked back then. "I would come home and he would have a beautiful pretend meal set out for us. He would put on whatever music we could find and ask me to dance for our anniversary."

"That sounds very sweet."

Thena glares at the woman for interrupting her blissful trip down memory lane. But she continues. "Gil was always sweet. Even when we got older, started school, he never stopped spending time with me even though I was a girl, or I was younger than him. He would defend me from older children and I would defend him from just about anyone else."

"He wanted to be a chef," Thena says, and her throat tightens and she chokes on her air. Because he would have become such a brilliant chef, and he would have that smile he always had, and she doesn't even know what he looks like now.

"It sounds like you two loved each other very much."

Thena doesn't bother answering that. No one understands, anyway. Everyone likes to think of their friendship as this precious thing of the past, like they were such angelic things. Everyone acts as if her memories of Gil are all she has left of him.

"Thena," the therapist shifts in her seat as she tries to breach more dangerous territory. "I know how much you love Gil. Can you tell me how this time of year makes you feel?"

Not this bullshit. Thena resists the urge to roll her eyes, looking out the window again. The leaves are changing, and it makes her think of the leaf Gil saved for her the morning he disappeared. He gave it to her before school, claiming he'd never seen a leaf the colour of her hair before.

She still has it. It's one of her few possessions, pressed into an old and worn copy of Robert Frost work. She sighs, "Gil liked poetry."

The therapist resigns herself to being ignored.

"He liked making things rhyme, rudimentary literary devices, jokes and brain teasers," Thena smiles again, now just speaking aloud to herself. "I told him he could be a poet. He said it wouldn't pay well, and then how would we do things like pay mortgages and have two cars?"

"He really thought of everything."

He did. Gil was very forward thinking as a child. He always considered every possible angle of something, despite looking more like a kid who would act first and think later.

All the more reason to believe that he wouldn't have just wandered off with someone, or that he would have found a way to escape if he did get plucked off the street somehow.

"Thena-"

"I believe that's our time," she cuts the therapist off, standing and beginning to walk out the door on her own. She's been here long enough that they aren't quite as strict with her.

"Indeed," the psych stands as well, at least giving her the respect of sending her off properly. "I'll see you next week."

"Can't wait," Thena mutters as she heads for the common area. Sometimes she wonders if prison would be better than this place. At least prisoners are allowed to keep things in their cells.

It'll be winter soon, and she'll think about Gil, wonder if he has to endure winters in some terrible little cellar. Or maybe he did manage to get away, because he was always clever. Maybe he managed to find a new life for himself somewhere.

After a trauma like that, maybe his mentality was so affected he wouldn't be her Gil anymore anyway. A morbid thought, but she didn't study psychology for some delusion that he could be completely unaffected by it all.

She has been in this mental institution for years now, too. Her parents don't want anything to do with her, and she could be released if they weren't funnelling money in to keep her here. All they want is to hear that she's forgotten about Gil completely.

Well, it's never going to happen, so her parents can go to hell.

Thena arrives in the common area, devoid of anyone else this close to meal time. The food is awful anyway. She would rather starve and think about Gil's cookies he would make every winter.

She leans on the windowsill, looking out at the trees. "These woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep."

"And miles to go before I sleep."

She doesn't turn to look at who's joining her. She doesn't much care, and she doesn't recognise the voice, although it is familiar.

"And miles to go before I sleep."

It is familiar. It's soft, and gentle, deeper than she imagined it. Soft steps come closer to her.

"And be one traveller, long I stood," it continues until it's right behind her, "and looked down one as far I could."

"To where it bent in the undergrowth," Thena finishes and frowns. She knows why she knows this poem, and plenty of others from the same volume. But it's rare to find someone else who does.

"Your hair's so long, now."

She stares at the window as gentle hands run through her hair, mindful not to hurt her as they start to wind the locks together. Her throat tightens and she chokes on her air, "y-you still remember how to braid?"

He just chuckles, and it's when she hears the hint of his laughter that she realises this is real. She hasn't finally succumbed to this hell around her and lost it.

She turns. Her hair is half braided down her back, but Gilgamesh is standing there, still just a year older than her, but looking completely unlike he once did. But it's definitely Gil. "You're here."

"It's our anniversary," he smiles at her like when they were children, playing house in her backyard. He holds his hands out, "sorry to keep you waiting."

#Thenamesh AU #honey this is a beautiful prompt #and oh my god this is so sad #but a happy ending!#Little baby Gil and Thena tho?#Ikaris is like playing house is for girls and little babies!#little Gil is like well my wife is going to work while I clean the house all day!#he makes huge feasts for them and pretends to drink a beer from his big grownup coffee mug #I won't be touching on this a lot for obvious reasons #Gil got abducted and kept in a dank little cellar #he had a rug and a little mattress and got fed #he would braid the tassles of the rug and think of Thena #he cooperated slowly gaining trust until he was allowed upstairs #then to go out of the house sometimes #then more often #then alone #until eventually he managed to escape #by that time he was several states over and had no records of who he was with him #but he manged to get back and the first thing he did was ask Where's Thena?#he was furious but he went right there to see her #and now they can get married and have a mortgage and two cars so Thena can go to work and I'm emotional

18 notes · View notes

thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” - A WW84 Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 4

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, possessive behavior, P/V sex, unprotected sex, slight boss/employee relationship (reader is a hired caterer), elements of sex pollen because the dreamstone messes with Max)

Summary: After Max secures the stone, he throws a party to celebrate. He also chooses you to help him test it out.

A/N: I’m not even a Max Lord stan but something about the way the dreamstone slowly fucks him up over the course of the movie really does it for me. Also this isn't a popular t-swift song but I happen to really like it and I think it fits??

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jump into the pool from the balcony

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

“So are you one of Max Lord’s foreign associates or are you just another pretty face for the party?”

The man in the tuxedo slumped towards you and you had to jump back to avoid getting champagne on your dress as he tipped his glass.

“I’m here to work,” you said through clenched teeth. This wasn’t the first drunk guest to proposition you while you were working, but Maxwell Lord’s parties seemed to attract the worst of them all. You turned on your heel and walked away before the man could make a real pass at you. Maybe he’d fall in the pool later-- he was certainly drunk enough for it to happen. Incidents like that were the highlight of your weekend.

You smoothed your navy dress as you stepped off the patio and back into the house. You weren’t a guest, but as the owner of the catering company working this function, you felt you had to dress with the crowd so that you could blend in while you kept everything running smoothly.

When Maxwell Lord first hit the DC scene, he'd been a boon for your company. You catered a few of his first parties, mostly after his big commercial aired and his name was growing. They were huge, outlandish affairs but it allowed you to bring on more staff and test out new recipes. But the gaps between parties had grown longer and longer recently, and you’d wondered if he’d switched to a rival catering company. But there was no gossip about it in the service industry rumor mill, so you assumed the man was just cutting back on his party habits.

It had been at least six months since you’d seen him, but now you were back in his large home managing yet another one of his wild events. The music was particularly loud and the crowd particularly large tonight.

And there are no rules when you show up here

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

The man himself caught your eye when he started waving in your direction from the kitchen door.

“Darling, may I speak with you a moment,” he called in that faux host voice of his. He was standing with another tall man in a tuxedo, this one with glasses and slicked-back white hair.

You smoothed your dress and approached the pair. When you were close enough, Maxwell grinned and placed a large hand on the small of your back, “This is DC’s finest caterer! She’s the genius behind those delicious spinach puffs you were just raving about.”

“Is that so?” the man replied quietly, eyeing you up and down. You tried to give the rude man a disapproving glare but Max seemed to notice it too. You felt his hand clench where it rested on your back.

“Yes, she’s quite the specimen, but I’m afraid I have to pull her away for something. Do you have a moment, my dear?”

“Of course, Mr. Lord,” you reply, pointedly ignoring the other man, “Let’s step into the kitchen.”

He followed you through the busy kitchen that he probably never used himself, until you found a quiet spot in the back near the pantry. You turned to look at him, quirking a brow and waiting for him to speak first.

“How do you think it’s going tonight?” he asked, his soft brown eyes suddenly revealing his vulnerability.

“It’s going quite well from my perspective,” you replied, curious as to why he interrupted his celebration for this, “The trays have been evenly spaced, we have plenty of hors d'oeuvres and alcohol left, and no one’s thrown up yet. I’d call it a success.”

“Good, good. So do you think you could take a short break?”

He ran a hand down your back again but this time he reached further, only stopping when he reached your ass to give it a firm squeeze.

Yes, you’d slept together once after one of the earlier parties you’d catered for him. You didn’t make it a habit of sleeping with clients, but the party was over, your staff had finished cleaning up, and he’d looked so lonely standing there by himself in the foyer of his large home. He’d asked if you wanted to stay for a drink and there was something soft in his eyes that told you he wasn’t the leering type, he just wanted some companionship. So you’d stayed, and after a couple glasses of wine you’d given into him easily.

The sex was great but you didn’t spend the night, both of you understanding that this was a one time deal. You’d catered one more party for him after that, but then he’d never called you again. Until now.

“I want to show you something,” he continued, grabbing your attention again. His eyes bore into yours. You couldn’t help it. Maxwell Lord intrigued you.

“Lead the way,” you replied.

This is why we can't have nice things, darling

Because you break them, I had to take them away

You could feel the base vibrating through the floor as you followed him upstairs, down the hall, and into what you assumed was his private bedroom. If this whole thing was just a request for sex, you were confused as to why it couldn’t wait until after the party.

“Mr. Lord, you have a house full of guests downstairs, is this really the best time to-”

“Yes it is. I have a proposition for you and I can’t wait anymore.”

He led you over to the end of the bed and gestured for you to sit down. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely confused, but you followed his direction out of pure curiosity. He sat beside you and angled his body so he could meet your eyes head on.

“I’ve recently found myself on the receiving end of some very good fortune. Let’s just say I’m about to become a very powerful man. By tomorrow, Black Gold Cooperative stock will be through the roof. And there’s so much more that I plan to do.”

You hesitated as you studied his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement but you didn’t really understand what he was saying. “Congratulations? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“You barely know me,” you replied, surprise coloring your tone, “I’ve catered a few of your events and we had sex once, but I hardly think that’s enough to establish a real foundation of trust-”

“Hush,” Max said, quieting you by placing one large finger against your lips, “I trust you because you’ve never lied to me. You’ve always treated me fairly. And right now, I need someone who isn’t going to yell at me or tell me exactly what I want to hear.”

“Ok-ay?”

“You’ve treated me well, so now I want to offer you something in return,” he continued, “I will grant you one wish. One wish for anything in the world. You can have anything you want, and in return I can make sure that the power truly works.”

You frowned. “Are you high right now? Did you take something downstairs?”

His words didn’t make any sense. Wishes? Powers?

“No! No, I didn’t,” he responded, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He sighed but then he reached for both of your hands and held them in his own. “Just believe me, I’ll prove it to you. Wish for something.”

His grip was strong but you didn’t feel threatened, just confused and maybe a small sense of pity. You figured there was no harm indulging him once, and then you could leave.

“Fine. I wish I had a Motorola DynaTAC. It’d be great for business but I could never afford one.”

Max grinned at you, “Your wish is granted.”

He leaned forward and pulled your joined hands closer as his body curled up. You were about to pull your hands away when he groaned, low and long. It sounded like pleasure turning into pain. You felt him shake and then a light breeze blew through the room, ruffling your hair. Strange. The window wasn’t open and there was no fan in the room.

“Max? What was that?” you asked slowly, glancing around the room. “Wait, are you okay?”

He was still doubled over, breathing heavily. When he heard you speak, he glanced back up and caught your eye with the wildest look you’d ever seen. His hair had fallen across his forehead and he had a sheen of sweat on his skin. But what shocked you the most was the flash of gold you saw in his eyes. You lifted a hand without thinking and brought it to his face, resting it against his cheek as you searched for the gold again, but it was already fading. Then Max shut his eyes and leaned into your palm, releasing a long sigh.

“What was that?” you asked again, softer this time.

“That… was your wish being granted.”

You looked where he pointed and your mouth dropped open when you saw the world’s first cell phone sitting beside you on the bed.

“This is real? How did you-”

You were cut off by Max’s lips crashing into yours. He grasped the back of your head and pulled you close, devouring your mouth. You moaned in surprise but then immediately gripped his shoulders to gain more leverage. You shifted against him so you were almost in his lap, and you quickly noticed how hard he was. You pulled back for a moment, your lips separating with a pop, and he gazed at you with a delirious expression.

“So you actually have powers. You can grant anybody’s wish?”

“It seems so, yes.”

You hummed. Whatever just happened… this wish granting. It seemed to physically affect Max in a big way. Your curiosity piqued again. “What does it feel like?” you asked, “Tell me. I want to know.”

He smirked and one of his hands tightened its grasp on your hip while the other held the back of your neck.

“Well, when the magic first washes over me… when the words ‘I wish’ fall from your lips… it feels, orgasmic,” he growled, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “I can feel the power coursing through my veins, like hot fire running out from my spine to every nerve ending in my body.”

He shuddered as he said this, as if the mere thought of it caused his body to react, “It feels… uncontrollable-- as if a pleasure is being ripped from your body after you’re already over-sensitive. And I feel the power leave and spread. Then there’s a hint of pain at the back of my head, but it’s worth it.”

His words sent a rush of heat to your core. There’s something about the unpredictable mix of power and lack of control that has you growing wet as he speaks. You move so that you’re fully seated in his lap and you immediately get to work on the buttons of his dress pants.

“It sounds remarkable,” you mumbled, feeling drunk on secondhand power. You finally managed to release his cock and gave it a few pumps while he groaned.

“It is. I can feel the power coursing through me. The Dreamstone wants to be used. It urges me. I want more. I need more.” he groaned, grinding against you.

“I’m more. You can have me right now,” you heard yourself moan.

Max chuckled darkly and used both hands to drag your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. “Yes, I think I will.”

You gasped as two thick fingers plunged into you without warning. Max hummed, “So fucking wet already. Were you waiting for this, darling?“ He slowly pumped into you, drawing several gasps and moans as he hooked his fingers deep inside. Your hips ground against his hand, aching for more.

“Yes, please fuck me!!”

He growled and removed his hand, only to grasp his own cock and run it against your slick folds. You groaned when he finally pushed in, shuddering at the slight burning sensation of being filled so completely. Max pushed deeper until he was completely seated inside you, but then he stopped, holding you on his lap and letting you warm his cock. His head fell to your shoulder as you wiggled your hips, ready for him to move.

“Come on, Max,” you whined, feeling your muscles clench around his solid length. You thought you were getting what you wanted when he shifted his hips and lifted you up but he moved agonizingly slow.

“Tell me how much you want me,” he said, his chocolate brown eyes mostly black as he stared up at you. He held you just above his lap, and his hands squeezed your hips so tightly that you knew there’d be bruises there tomorrow.

“I want you Max. I need you.”

“And no one else?”

You didn’t say anything, your mind begging you to focus solely on the sensations. But Max wouldn’t relent. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you as he stilled his hips. “Say it. Say there’s no one else like me.”

One hand snaked up and grabbed your breast, his thumb tweaking the nipple painfully.

“Only you!” you gasped, arching against him, “No one can do what you do!”

Max growled and plunged back into you, driving as deep as possible, “That’s right. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You cried out at the feeling of him pounding back into you, setting a new fast and rough pace. You bounced on his lap, moaning his name as he fucked up into you. Neither of you lasted long. Soon enough your orgasm hit you like a truck, your walls fluttering around his cock as you grasped at his back and his hair. He followed after a few more rough thrusts, coating your walls with his release as he bit into your shoulder to quiet his groans.

You were so satisfied and blissed out that you didn’t remember crawling up towards the head of the bed and cuddling into Max’s warm, soft body to fall asleep.

This is why we can't have nice things, honey

Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me?

But the morning after served as a wake-up call.

“Max?”

Your eyes fluttered open when you realized he wasn’t still in bed next to you. You sat up, running a hand through your disastrous hair. He must have heard you call out because Max appeared in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom, already fully dressed for work.

“Ah you’re awake. I have to rush off, you don’t mind seeing yourself out do you?”

He glanced down when he said it, fiddling with his cuff-links. Your heart clenched painfully at his words, but this wasn’t your first foray into casual sex. What surprised you more was the fact that he seemed to want to ignore what he revealed to you last night. His new powers...

“What about last night?”

Max paused. He waved a hand in the air as he searched for the right thing to say, “I’m not sure that I have room for a relationship in my life right now. I’m-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you said sharply, fully aware that he was being evasive on purpose.

“Right. Of course. Well I have big plans for that too and they’re about to start today.”

“I don’t understand. What plans? Are you going to use this new power to-”

“Listen, I showed you what I showed you because I assumed you’d be discreet,” Max cut in, his face hardening, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone. And I’m sorry, but I can’t explain right now.”

“Max…” you said slowly, “What are you going to do?”

“I have to go.”

He made his way to the door, not sparing you another glance as you sat in his bed, completely bewildered and more than a little concerned.

“What about me?”

“I’m sorry, honey. This is bigger than you.”

This is why we can't have nice things

#maxwell lord #ww1984 #maxwell lord x reader #wonder women 1984 #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag #the mandalorian #max lord #ww84

67 notes · View notes

stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

Text

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) part 6

Two posted in one day? what? Never heard of her. Its a short one. Like 2000 words. I considered saving this for the next chapter but I can’t without slipping up that one and I don’t really want to at the moment. Could change later.

Warnings: Murder

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7 (will be added when done)

Upon heading upstairs and to the woman’s office, the three had fled. The man got enraged, claiming this was unfair. They're gone! Where would they have gone?

Michael spoke to Mead, who told him to forget about the witches and change plan.

You walked around the room getting a good whiff of the air. Your hand glided across the backing of one of the chairs located in the middle of the room. They heard the gunshots and the screams of their students dying. The two older ones rushed to the doors to lock them. Mallory complained telling her that they needed to save them but Mallory wasn’t ready.

“They teleported out of here.”

“Obviously.” Michael spat. “Where would she go?”

“This was the only place that she had. I can’t predict this.” The man huffed. “Ms Mead as a point,” you looked over at the woman. “Not like it matters but isn’t the world meant to end in flames or something. Are witches really worth your time? End the world before she can end you.” You make your move over to Cordelia’s desk chair. Now that she was gone, you could sit there. You’ve never been compelled to sit there until now. Maybe it was the hyperthecial power of it, it is only hers, the Supreme’s. You ran your finger of the grooves of the armrest. Resembling the woman towards the end of her life cycle, the arms had indents from being dug into. “Life is a game of, I don’t know chess- never played but that’s beside the point. You got all your pieces laid out and you go back an forth knocking each other’s out. Some pieces have a power to end the game if you get rid of them, but you don’t have to. There are other ways to end the game if that’s what your wish.”

“I don’t think you understand chess.”

“And now I hopefully never will.”

“You got aboard this really quickly.”

“You promise answers, something these witches couldn’t.”

To test your newfound loyalty to him, he schemed up something that would kill two birds with one stone. The two of you reached the warlock school in record speed. He refused to explain your purpose for being there until you stood outside the sculpture that hid the entrance of the underground school.

Your task was simple and if you chose to accept it would grant you a spot beside his side in the end times. “Kill them all,” was his instructions. “In the name of my father.”

You smirked, “Why not for us? Doing it for someone else seems better than for selfish reasons and I thought we needed to be as bad as possible.” The boy handed you a dagger. You removed it from it’s sheath and ran your finger along the edge of the blade. “A knife?”

“Make it a pure massacre.”

“A bloodbath,” you said chipperly. “Let’s go, Michael.”

There was no way you could fake this.

“Ladies first,” the boy said using his magic to open the door. You skipped onto the grounds. No one was guarding the entrance allowing the both of you to easily slip in. “I should warn you I’ve never killed before.”

“What about all those women- Oh~ I forgot. You’ll do fine.” What women? You shook your head and removed the knife form its cover. “You don’t need to be clean. The messier the better.”

The two of your stormed the school removing anyone who crossed your paths. At first, you had to hide your pained expressions as you had to stab the students. As time went on, it became second nature. Screams filled the air, students crying out for help. Soon you ditched the knife and used your powers figuring out tricks that Michael did and copying him.

The two of you strutted into the last room. Your joints was loose like a ragdolls. You would have toppled over by now you didn’t force yourself to finish the job.

“Who are-” The staff’s eyes shifted from you to your associate. “Michael.”

“I’ve got to thank the both of you, I wouldn’t have found my kin without the both of you,” Michael said. “I would thank the other two as well but sadly there gone. I guess you’ll have to thank them for us.”

John’s eyes flicker back to you. He analysis your face. It was Behold that said your name first, “Y/n?” it came out more of a question unsure due to you ghastly appearance.

“Bingo.” You cackled yourself to insanity. The man found you to be nothing but nice to him when he had his short stay at the school.

“The She-devil,” the other man muttered out.

“Hey! That’s mean,” you squeaked out getting up close and personal.

“You don’t kill men-”

“-I kill whomever I like.” You stabbed him in the chest. Michael made quick work of the other man.

“I warned Cordelia-” the man crocked out. You got into his face and dug the blade deeper into him.

“She’s dead. All the witches are dead-” you ripped the blade clean out of him. “and so too are you.”

You watched the man’s life fade from his eyes. Michael clapped and congratulating you on passing his test with flying colours. The man worked on his little display piece as you cleaned your blade on your skirt.

You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, your skin paled revealing noticeable veins in your face. Eyes pitch black, covering the white of the eyes. No wonder they didn’t recognise you. The ‘you’ was gone. The colour came back into your skin and your eyes settled down by the time Michael was done with his inverted pentacle of human corpses.

“We should head home.”

“Home?”

The two of you ended up at mead’s house. The three of you rested at Meads dinner table. In the short time you were there you’d gotten along well with the woman which shocked you since she was a Satanist and that went against everything you had stood for… You guess a lot had changed today. You spent half an hour in her bathroom reliving what you had done. Crying didn’t solve your problems. You didn’t cry because of what you had done, you cried because you enjoyed it. You wanted your old life back and if you had the chance, which you were well aware you didn’t, you would have to burn for your sins. You played your part, slowly loosing yourself in the act.

Mead ended up suggesting going to the men that rebuilt her after all of Michael’s terrible ideas of how to end the world including the plot of omen 3.

You asked about these men she spoke of, and Michael filled you in about these two coke heads with bad hair that ran a robotics company. You said you wouldn’t mind meeting the men who played god by creating a replication of a life. Worse case, you waste a day. You asked Mead to call them up and telling them you were heading right over. You grabbed Michaels and asked him where it was located. A second later you were outside a tall white building with the company’s logo pasted up the top. “Not bad,” he complemented. You told him you would stay by his side and make sure he didn’t accept any stupid ideas and just introduce her as a business partner or something.

The men hand him a list of names and all of them were members of the Cooperative which was really the Illuminati but with a new name. All members had they've sold their soul to the devil and therefore, Michael controls them. Jeff and Mutt encourage him to use nuclear weapons to end the world, You second the idea. Michael agreed but only if it'll also destroy the witches. Jeff and Mutt reassured him that it will, but he needs to talk to the Cooperative first.

“Will it kill them?” Michael asked you. You had stolen one of the desk chairs and you were now playing with a robot part. You looked at them like they asked you’re the stupidest question on earth.

“They’re human, of course nuclear bombs will kill them.” You wouldn’t allow it; you’ll find them before the bombs go off and save them. Then you can warn them of what’s to come.

The idea for the end of the world was simple, a few hotspots full of people will be saves. The richest of the rich, and some others to help work. But all, the best in their fields. Michael placed you in charge keeping Jeff and Mutt in line as well as overseeing the project. You had managed to gain the antichrists trust by then.

You sat in the corner of their lab reading one of their occupant leaders strange requests. “God this woman is a riot,” you chuckled to yourself.

The clicking of heels signified the entrance of their secretary/Human resources person along with everything else important. For someone who walked with a can, she was quiet with it, her heals made more noise than it did.

You never bothered to turn around and look at her, too busy working to care about the likes of her. Your back was always facing her, so she never got a good look at you either. She gathered you worked there now even though it was never passed through her. One day you didn’t work here and now you did. The men the woman worked for acted like you’ve been there for years, they didn’t even call you by your name anymore but by an assortment of nicknames, none of which you were fond of.

“Thanks Ms Venable. Oh, that minds me, you will receive an email about the purchases for outpost… which one again?”

“3 and 4,” you answered.

“Yes, 3 and 4 by the end of the day, we need to you place the orders today before you leave.”

“Can you also order some cigarettes? I’m out. Order a lot please.”

“Is that all?” The woman was dismissed.

“Wait? Is that Venable?” You spun around to see the woman, but she was already gone. “You gave your secretary a job as outpost leader?”

“That or she would quit.” You nodded before going back to work.

“Hmm~” After sending your email, you decided to go one break. You groaned, your eyes aching from the constant strain they’d been forced to endure. You tossed your glasses of your head and rubbed your eyes furiously. “Stupid piece of shit doesn’t even work,” your eyes were better off without the stupid eyewear. It was probably time for a new pair you thought. You swung your chair around notifying the two you were popping out for a bit. One of them men notified you that a packet of cigarettes had been brought up for you. They tossed it to you as you walked towards the back exit.

When you returned you noticed a change in the air immediately. A presence that didn’t belong here entered when you were gone. Light. “Did you two have client while I was out?”

“No. We did however get four tickets bought for outpost 3.” You hummed, walking up to the board to see who bought it. St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Oh, those witches, they are good.

“All good. This works with my order. Everything’s good.” You were happy at the knowledge that at least one of your students was alive.

#cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode x reader

20 notes · View notes

h4rin · 6 years

Text

mafia!johnny; part four

word count; 5,021 holy fuck

part one part two part three part four

warnings; blood, violence, swearing, i went all out fam, there's heavy angst

Chittaphon was a genius. A sadistic genius, and one from your past, but still a genius. That much was clear to you as he explained in perfect detail what had happened, what was happening currently, and what was going to happen.

“The easiest part was convincing them that I didn’t trust EXO,” he was saying, the glint in his eye giving you more anxiety than you had ever felt before. “‘I just needed the excitement,’ I told them. ‘I knew I could help more than I was getting credit for, I just needed to prove it.’ And they believed me!” He laughed, a sound that had once comforted you but now made you flinch. “I’m not loyal to EXO either, don’t get me wrong. I’m loyal to myself. However, I gained back their trust pretty quickly, well, at least those who used to be in my unit. And Johnny, of course.” He turned around, grinning towards the figure sitting in a chair in the corner, slumped over and covered in tape and rope. “Poor thing. He never wanted to not trust me.”

Chittaphon turned back to you. “He is a sweet guy, I won’t lie. That’s not highly sought-after in this business, but he makes do. Shame.” He smiled at you, twisting one of his earrings as if nervous. “But that’s not why we’re here.” He inhaled deeply. “So, after gaining back their trust, seeing as the only people who...interacted with me while they had me were those from the U unit, everything just clicked into place. I would complain about the ropes restraining me being too tight, and they’d slowly loosen them.” At the mention of the restraints he’d been in, you flexed your wrists, confirming that, yes, he had thought of it, and they were almost too tight to move your fingers. “I slipped out of them. Fun, right? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to do that.”

He took a step closer to you, the knife in his hand glinting in the dim light streaming through the blinds. You could practically feel his warm breath, colliding harshly with the cold air. “I won’t hurt you.” He paused. “Yet.” He laughed, a genuine laugh. “No, no, I actually won’t hurt you, but I do need you to cooperate. I just want to talk.”

“What about?” you asked, the crack in your voice making you wince. He smiled at that, a genuine smile. The old Chittaphon you’d known might still be in there.

“Do you AVENGE ME?” The question shocked you. You figured he’d ask you for NCT secrets, then kill you, regardless of whether or not you knew anything. You hesitated.

“I...yeah, I do.” His answer was instantaneous, much more casual than the rest of the conversation had been.

“How’s life been, man?!” The knife was limp in his hand, twisting around but never hitting flesh. “What college did you end up at?” You stuttered out your answer. “Dude, wasn’t that like, your dream school?” You nodded. “Nice!” He held his hand out for a high-five, but faltered when he realized that you were still tied up. “Sorry,” he muttered, raising the hand that wasn’t holding a knife to the back of his neck.

There was a silence, so you took that as a signal to say something. “Were you...involved with this when we were together?” you asked, trying your hardest not to mumble.

He sighed. “No, I joined about two months after graduation. I think Taeil was trying out different roles, so he had to kidnap someone. It didn’t go well. What’s he doing now?”

“I think he’s organizing missions.” You hoped that the conversation would go well, that you could pretend like you weren’t terrified, that you could get out unharmed. If you had to trick the man you once loved, so be it.

Chittaphon’s eyes lit up. “Really? He said that was what he wanted to do, that he didn’t want to get his hands dirty, essentially. He seemed like he’d be really good at it.” His face suddenly fell. “Eh, doesn’t matter anymore. Point is, Taeyong was his lookout, also training, but he saw me trying to walk away.” He shrugged. “I didn’t walk away. Then, or now. How about you? How did you get involved?”

“I saw Johnny kill a man.” The words flowed effortlessly from your lips. “It was that or die.”

“What if I gave you another chance?” He chose his words carefully. “You just forget all of this? Or you die. Same stakes.” He shrugged again, playing off like your life wasn’t in danger.

“I’ll go.” As easily as you had become accustomed to the mafia life, you missed your normal life. You knew you’d be in danger until the day you died, and, like Johnny had said, this life could and would cut your life unbelievably short, but you could live in comfort, not having to worry about waking up to someone’s screams.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as Chittaphon walked towards you, holding the knife outward. You kept your head held high, chin up, and eyes still as he walked past you, behind you. He brushed slightly against your shoulder and your heart skipped a beat, terror being the only emotion you felt. You didn’t show it, however, holding your position and not even allowing your leg to bounce or your fingers to fidget. If you were going to die, you were going to die with honor.

“Perfect,” he muttered, right next to your ear. The cold metal of the knife brushed slightly against your skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to shock you from the sudden change of temperature as he cut the ropes holding your wrists together. He held onto the knife as you slowly brought your hands out in front of you, twisting your wrist. “If you’re going to try to escape, I’d suggest against it.” You gestured towards your ankles, still bound to the chair, just as your wrists had been a second ago. He nodded. “You can take them off.”

You bent down, hair falling slightly in your eyes, and easily unknotted them. You probably could’ve just taken them off by kicking your legs, but you hadn’t even thought of that. Chittaphon was smarter than he looked. You stood up, stretching your legs and arms, thankful to be free and able to have blood flowing through your limbs. “So, what now?” You twisted both your ankles and your wrists, wincing at the cracks that echoed through the almost-empty concrete room.

“You still have your apartment?” he immediately asked. You nodded slowly, slightly confused.

“Somebody’s been paying it, I guarantee it. If you stuck with them, it would’ve ended up another hideout. It works pretty well. You can move there if you’d like, but then NCT could get you again and, ah, they can put two and two together and know we knew each other. They won’t trust you, it won’t end well. Even worse if EXO gets to you, they’re nice, sort of dumb sometimes, but they mean well. They don’t have kids, though, unlike NCT. They can easily figure out that you mean a lot to at least one member,” he flashed his eyes towards Johnny, “and you could be held hostage. EXO’s hostages do not live long.”

“Oh.” That was all you could muster. “So I move?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’d offer to help you, but I’m leaving town really soon. I have a car, though, so I can drop you off at your old apartment, though.” You agreed, still not entirely sure of where you were. You could still be in the NCT headquarters, you figured, but you also had no idea where that could be. You hadn’t really been out much since joining, spending almost all of your time either training or sleeping.

Chittaphon started to lead you out of the dark room, you following blindly, hoping that he didn’t just take you outside and kill you. Your eyes darted to Johnny, just for a split second. He was awake now, his breathing heavier, but Chittaphon didn’t seem to notice. One of his eyes was twisted shut in pain. The one eye that wasn’t closed flicked up to make eye contact with you, too terrified to say anything. The one second that you spent passing him felt like an eternity. His breathing seemed to calm as you maintained eye contact with him, even staying calm as you walked out the door, practically praying that Chittaphon hadn’t seen.

He didn’t turn around as he continued to lead you through the complicated level of whatever building that you were on, eventually getting to a set of concrete stairs that led you into yet another dark room, this time a basement. “You ready to go back to your old life?” he asked, what seemed like genuine concern in his voice. You couldn’t find your voice, only nodding. He slipped into the driver’s side of the car, patiently waiting for you to get into the passenger’s side. Once you were in and had your seatbelt buckled, he started the car with a push of a button. It roared to life, and he wasted no time getting onto roads you didn’t recognize. They slowly faded into familiar streets, the lights and trees passing quickly.

“We’re here,” Chittaphon said, voice clear for the first time that day. He shook you out of your thoughts with just two words. “You have your key?”

You nodded, the words going straight through your head. It felt like you weren’t talking, someone else was using your body as you said, “I have a spare, worst case scenario.”

“Okay. You okay to go upstairs?”

You nodded again. “I guess this is goodbye.”

This time, he nods. “Goodbye.”

You got out of the car carefully, walking up to the brightly-lit building, footsteps seeming to echo in the silent street. You opened the door quietly, and the receptionist at the front desk greeted you with a smile. “Oh, you’re back!” she grinned. “We were starting to get worried.” She released a laugh that had always brightened your day. Today, though, it didn’t do much for you.

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear, wincing at your quiet voice. “I was on vacation.”

“I figured,” she laughed. “You seem down - post-vacation depression?” Her mouth slanted. “I understand. I was in Florida a few months ago, and it was so bright and sunshiny…” She sighed. “I wished I could’ve stayed forever. But I wouldn’t trade home for anything.” Her words had no effect on you, seeing as how you accidentally tuned her out. “You going to your room?”

“Yeah,” you responded, tearing your eyes from the spot on her desk they’d been resting on for the past minute or so. “You going to be here tomorrow?”

“Actually, we finally got another person. I can’t quite remember their name, something with a J? He’s a guy, though, which’ll be nice. He should be here when you wake up tomorrow, I’ll probably start taking more night shifts.” She flashed a grin that rivaled the sun. “I can finally go back to college! I have the money and the time, now.”

“Awesome!” You grinned, feeling as though you were stretching plastic over your face. You were positive that the smile didn’t reach your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”

“Goodnight!” she called, finally letting you go. You waved back, muttering a goodnight.

Your dreams that night were full of terror. You weren’t sure that you slept for more than fifteen minutes at a time, images of Johnny replacing Chittaphon, being beaten and bloody, begging for forgiveness. He had scars all over his face, and burn marks on his neck, both from rope and actual fire. It was far too realistic for you, waking up multiple times to your own sobs. You had to remember the actual images, those of Chittaphon, which still stung, just not as badly as the pulverized Johnny had.

When you woke up for the final time the next morning, you could feel the bags under your eyes dragging you towards the basement. You weren’t usually overly peppy, but you felt like you had abandoned someone in their time of need, and you couldn’t let go of the feeling of guilt. If Johnny died, you knew you could never forgive yourself. You felt like you were being watched as well, which you decided to blame your lack of sleep on. In the past, you could never sleep if you felt like you were being watched, to the point where you’d turn posters around if they had eyes. The only time you were able to sleep with another person in the room was with Johnny.

You took a shower that lasted about three times the length of your regular showers. The feeling of hot water on your dirty skin felt like an angel was crying on you, it was amazing. You realized suddenly that you’d fallen out of your general hygiene regimen during your stay with NCT, and you had no idea how long you’d been there. You got dressed in clothing that, while it was no longer freshly cleaned, was still comfortable, and sighed, content. You’d miss Johnny, you knew that much, and you’d grown close with the boys. But you were home now, able to resume your life. It had been a nice break from life, you couldn’t lie.

You walked downstairs, enjoying the feeling of fresh clothes, fresh air, normal life, normal everything. You’d missed it. As you approached the front desk, you remembered that the normal secretary, Jiwoo, was probably taking classes at that exact moment, and realized that you should probably introduce yourself to the new person. “Hello,” you greeted them as you walked up, “I’m [Y/N]. I live here, and I figured I should say hi.”

He looked up, soft blond hair layered over light brown hair shifting slightly. His brown eyes bore into yours for a second as he smiled softly. His eyes immediately softened as he registered your gaze. “Hello,” he greeted you, a glint in his eyes. “I’m Jongdae.”

Johnny was devastated.

At first, he wouldn’t lie, he figured you’d be dead in a week. But you survived. You didn’t just survive, actually, you thrived. And he respected that. When he saw you trudging around the house one day, bags under your eyes and just an air of exhaustion about you, he knew everything was different. The aura you’d had of dealing with everything, with being able to deal with everything, was gone. You were starting to crack.

And he didn’t like it. Despite only knowing you for a few weeks, the thought of losing you, especially to something as stupid as exhaustion, hurt him. EXO could attack NCT at any point, and he wanted you to be safe.

So he brought you down to the basement. He brought you somewhere he hadn’t brought anybody, not even Chittaphon, not even when they were best friends. He exposed himself to you, and you accepted him. Whether you knew it or not, he started to change.

You fell in love with him that day, and so did he. He just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

He slept for much longer than he usually did while you were chatting with Chittaphon. He typically got two hours of sleep, but that night he was napping with you, he got a full night of sleep; eight hours. With Chittaphon knocking him out, Johnny got sixteen hours. When he woke up, strapped to a chair, he felt terrified. By the time he could hear your voice, he felt better already. It was scary; your effect on him. He avoided Chittaphon’s eyes as he passed Johnny, hoping to survive just a bit longer. When he heard the lighter footsteps, though, your footsteps, he looked up instantly, locking eyes with you, even if it was just for a second.

You gave him the strength to survive that day.

Chittaphon was back an hour later. “Ah,” he said, taking in Johnny’s weakened state, “you’re awake. [Y/N] is gone, and don’t worry, safely home. You should worry about yourself.” A wicked grin spread on his face, matching the malicious glint in his eyes. “We’re going to have fun today. You fucked me over. Karma isn’t getting you, so I will be.”

By the time Taeyong rescued him, he had cuts up and down his arms, his face, everywhere, his own blood soaking into his already red t-shirt. “Please,” he whispered, coughing. “Please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for or who he was begging, he only knew he needed something. You.

Chittaphon was long gone. Back, safely with EXO. EXO didn’t know about his lack of loyalty, and if they did, they didn’t care. He got them information, he exposed Johnny, like a nerve. They could destroy them from the inside out. If Johnny lost his mind, it was obvious that Jaehyun would, slowly leading to Taeyong losing his mind. He cared too much about those under him; he was weak. He was easy to break.

“Johnny…” Taeyong trailed off as Winwin nursed Johnny’s wounds. “He too [Y/N].” The words, while Johnny knew them to be true, still stung. You were gone, and he knew it. He couldn’t make sure you were safe, he couldn’t lay down and nap with you, pretend this wasn’t your life. He couldn’t be with you. Odds were, Chittaphon had moved you far away.

But he clung onto the small amount of hope he still had. Once his cuts were slightly more healed and he could move somewhat comfortably, about two days later, he set out to find you. He had made a list of places that, based on EXO’s past, were likely that he put you, and places that it was likely that NCT would’ve put you, knowing that Chittaphon had knowledge about both of those. The main issue was that Chittaphon had been their main spy, the only person who could really help would be Taeil, who planned out what they did.

When Johnny had the list of possible places written down, Yuta joined him. Being an assassin like Johnny, he figured that having a small amount of backup would be better than nothing, even if it could damage his ego a bit. Yuta was more of the type to work with his muscles, rather than a weapon. Their car was silent as it moved through the busy streets, and if it made any noise, it was drowned out by the various motors surrounding them. The first stop was your old apartment building.

When Johnny managed to park, the first thing he told Yuta to do was stay in the car. “I’ll be safe,” he told him, “I have a knife on me, and I’m wearing a wire. You can hear me through here.”

Yuta nodded. “Be safe, okay? I’ll be in as soon as you need me.”

Johnny walked towards the tall building, each footstep echoing slightly on the asphalt. The streetlamps illuminated small puddles that were forming through a sprinkling rain, rippling as Johnny’s dark leather shoes passed through them. Each footstep caused his heart to beat faster, bringing him closer to you. It had been two days, but god, he missed you with all of his heart. He hadn’t realized he could get so close to someone so quickly, especially after Chittaphon fucked him over like he did.

He stopped dead in his tracks about two feet away from the front door. Through a large, clean window, he could see you, your hair soft and clean, clothes he’d never seen before adorning your body. You were laughing, leaning over a counter, talking with someone he’d never seen before. His eyebrows were pressed together, mouth wide as he laughed, as well. His blond hair messily sat over scruffy dark brown hair, and it worked for him in a way that Johnny didn’t like. He realized that it wasn’t just jealousy, it was hatred for the stranger.

“I…” Johnny trailed off, talking just to himself. “What do I do?” The words were hushed. He knew that if you were with him, you wouldn’t be safe, but he was terrified to think that if you weren’t with him, you’d be in just as much danger, if not more. He wouldn’t be able to protect you if he wasn’t around, but if he was caught hanging around you, people could put two and two together. As much as he hated to admit it, EXO wasn’t full of idiots; there was a reason Chittaphon had joined. He sighed, ruffling his hand through his hair. He scratched the back of his head, starting to walk around the almost-empty parking lot.

“J?” Yuta’s voice came calling gently. “Are you there?”

“Yeah,” Johnny responded, tearing his eyes away from you still talking with the stranger. “Is everything okay?”

“Is she here?” Yuta ignored Johnny’s question.

“She is. We should go.”

“Is she safe?”

“Yeah.” Johnny walked away from the building as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. The stars were shining bright, he noticed as he looked up, trying to keep the tears from forming in his eyes. He knew he was overreacting, but he also thought that you’d replaced him so quickly.

“No, no, no,” you were telling Jongdae. “I actually have a boyfriend! His name is John, and he’s a sweetheart, even if he doesn’t seem like it at first.” You grinned, leaning closer to Jongdae over the counter. “We actually met pretty late at night, after I got off work one night. He was really sweet, and he made me feel really safe.” You almost said that he brought you home, until you realized that he hadn’t, but he had felt like home. You started laughing, thinking about how strange it was how the two of you had gotten together, even if you weren’t official. “We’ve had a pretty strange relationship.”

Jongdae laughed as well. “That seems pretty weird. How long have the two of you been together?”

You thought for a moment. “Probably about...four months? It sucks, he lives a little while away so I can’t really see him right now. He’s pretty busy with work, too. I miss him a lot, even though I saw him a few days ago.”

“Ah,” he replied. “Are you sure he’s…” he trailed off. “Loyal?”

You nodded, a happy glint in your eyes. “He isn’t the cheating type.”

Jongdae smiled back, stifling a yawn. “Oh, it’s getting pretty late, you should probably go to bed. Jiwoo’ll be here soon, but I’ll be back in the morning.” You looked up to the clock, seeing that it was about ten at night. You’d been losing sleep over the past few days, nightmares of Chittaphon and threats of danger echoing through your brain. The thought of Jiwoo not being here on time didn’t cross your mind, and it didn’t bother you. Jongdae was nice, he was able to keep you company, and you were still able to get your work done. You made sure he got his done, too, even though he insisted he was.

For the next few days, Johnny would check in at random times. He would never walk into the building, knowing that he knew the person you were talking to. He didn’t just not trust him because he seemed too close to you, he gave off a vibe that Johnny just didn’t like. He racked his brain for hours at a time, thinking of where he knew the stranger from. Yuta, despite seeing him a few times, had no idea who he was, either. The juniors, those that were being trained alongside you for a bit, unknown to EXO, didn’t recognize him at all.

“Chittaphon would’ve known,” he mumbled to himself, wincing at his words. He knew they were true, but he also knew he shouldn’t have been thinking like that. He sat in silence for a few minutes, half-thinking and half-trying to clear his mind. Once his mind was at least partially blank, he groaned in defeat as his phone rang.

“Hello?” he asked, sounding harsher than he meant to.

The voice that filled his ear was none other than Donghyuck, the youngest person that they were training. “Johnny?” His voice was rushed, slightly higher than usual, and punctuated by heavy breathing. It sounded like he had just been crying. “I...Mark is really hurt. Really bad. I don’t think he’s waking up right now, and it was someone from EXO. He didn’t give us his name, but he told us that he had [Y/N].”

Johnny’s heart stopped in his chest. Suho. Their leader and lead torture expert. “Did he have any scars?”

Donghyuck nodded, forgetting for a second where he was and that Johnny couldn’t see him. “Y-yeah. He had a scar over his eye, but it wasn’t blind, I don’t think. Johnny, is Mark gonna die?” He choked on his words.

Johnny forgot that Donghyuck couldn’t see him, either. “No, no he isn’t. Turn on your location, I’ll be there in two minutes.” Donghyuck hung the phone up, whispering nothings to Mark. Due to their age being so close, and being the only two training for so long, they had grown close together. Neither of them could imagine life without the other. Johnny knew that he could help, despite usually ending lives, he had been a medic in the past, before Taeyong had recruited him. Johnny’s phone chirped, signaling that Donghyuck had shown up on his map.

True to his word, Johnny fucking ran to the two youngest’s location. Mark was not in a good position. His skin, even though it was usually pale, was even paler, and his black shirt was bloodstained. “Oh god,” Johnny whispered, disturbing Donghyuck from crying over his best friend’s limp body.

“He still has a pulse,” Donghyuck sniffed, looking up at Johnny. He wiped his eyes, scared that any weakness would be punished. “He’ll be okay, right? He wasn’t shot, it’s just cuts. He wasn’t stabbed, I don’t think.”

Johnny pulled out the small medic case he had in his bag. “Pull off his shirt,” he instructed the younger. Donghyuck didn’t hesitate, pulling the soaked shirt off of Mark. The cuts that marked his body were deep, but not beyond help. They weren’t too awful, there were just too many of them to count.

Donghyuck held onto the wet t-shirt, blood dripping between his fingers as his grip tightened. Johnny carefully looked over his body, putting a small amount of rubbing alcohol onto a few cotton balls. He gently dabbed them on the cuts, wincing as Mark groaned softly. “That’s good,” he muttered to himself, “he’s still alive and he can still feel.” Johnny grabbed a few bandages from his pack, carefully placing them on top of the cuts. “Shh,” he whispered to Mark as the bleeding started to slow down, “you’ll be okay. You’ll make it through this.” He noticed that a few cuts were too deep, that they wouldn’t be stopped by just bandages, but he knew that Winwin would be able to easily stitch them up and he’d recover.

“Can you stand?” he asked the slightly unconscious boy. He just shook his head. Johnny pursed his lips. “I’ll call Doyoung,” he decided. The phone call was quick, the poison expert quickly making it to the three’s location.

“Who did this?” the angry words raced from his lips. “Who do I need to kill?”

“EXO.” Johnny’s reply was curt as he and Donghyuck lifted the unconscious body towards the car. The bloodsoaked shirt was slowly turning Donghyuck’s multicolored shirt darker colors, a deep red. Doyoung, fuming, opened up the dark car door.

“I’m going to kill Sehun and work my way up.”

“No.” Johnny’s words were firm. “Jaehyun works on them first. We’re not letting them get out of this easily.”

“He’s just a kid!” Doyoung cried. “He doesn’t need this. Donghyuck, if someone tries to do this shit to you, I’m not hesitating. They’re fucking dead.” Donghyuck just nodded.

By the time the four of them got home, the others were sitting at a table in their main room. “Is he okay?” Taeil was the first to speak. Johnny just nodded.

“Winwin, can you help him?” He mirrored Johnny’s actions. “Thank you.” Doyoung and Donghyuck helped to carry Mark into Winwin’s space, Donghyuck still gripping onto his shirt. Doyoung came out quickly, but Donghyuck elected to stay with him.

“There’s an issue.” Taeyong was speaking now. “EXO has [Y/N].”

Johnny’s jaw clenched. “I heard. I’m going to fucking destroy them.”

“No, not yet.” Taeyong sighed through his nose. “We don’t know how they got her. We don’t know how they knew where she was. We don’t know where she is now. We don’t know anything. We don’t even have Chittaphon anymore.”

Johnny paused before answering. “What’s the good news?”

Taeyong pushed his eyebrows together. “What?”

Johnny’s eyebrows raised. “The way you phrased it, it sounded like there was going to be good news.”

Taeyong sighed again. “We know she’s alive. They won’t kill her, they know she means something to you.”

Johnny was flat out fucking fuming. “If any of them hurt her, I am going to make them wish they were dead. Then I’m going to make their wish come true.”

You woke up the same way you had a few days before, bound to an uncomfortable chair. You automatically checked your ankles, silently cursing at the fact that your ankles were bound now. You shut your eyes tightly, the pounding in your head so harsh that you could hear it. A throat clearing distracted you from your thoughts of how to distract. You looked up, meeting eyes with Chittaphon.

A sadistic grin was on his face, his head cocked. Through the dim light in the cold room, he looked practically demonic. “Hello again, [Y/N]. You should’ve moved when you had the chance.”

87 notes · View notes