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ask-them-bois · 3 years

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Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 2/3

pt.1

TW: PTSD flashback, attempted mugging

TLDR: Deadscar heads for the desert. A new troll arrives.

Ishran cinched the strap on his bag and stood, swinging the pack onto his shoulder. He picked up his war hammer, sliding it into its holster between the bag and his back. Finally, he tied up his hair, made sure his campfire was out completely, and set out.

He’d been camped on the outskirts of the city for several nights, but now, mere hours after the meeting with Musrio and the other ancestors, it was time to leave. He made for the trackscuttler station, remembering the Decaying’s directions.

He stepped up onto the platform and looked around; the station was empty, as far as he could tell. No one was even in the ticket booth, the lights all dark. He found an old board that listed the trackscuttlers’ arrival times, but all of them were marked the same way: “Canceled.”

It was abandoned, he realized. Trackscuttlers were still a popular mode of transportation all over Alternia, and he idly wondered what would cause the station to shut down. Perhaps a better one had been built elsewhere.

Regardless, he put his curiosity aside; the inquiry of why a station was powered down was not his mission. Finally, he located a map of the tracks, in a case that stood in the middle of the station. It depicted most of the continent he was currently on, and it was easy to locate the desert; the landmass he resided on only had one, albeit a rather large one.

If Lucina wasn’t there, then he’d have to head overseas. First things first, though- he located the tracks that wound through the desert. There was only one track, and someone had scribbled over part of it in red marker.

Undeterred, Ishran followed the trail to the station he was currently at; it stood to the west of the desert, which meant he had to head east. Satisfied, he turned to survey the tracks by the station. They pointed north and south, but following the northern one would eventually take him the correct way.

A squeak of a shoe behind him was his only warning as a knifepoint was suddenly pressed to his shoulder.

“Give me everything in the bag, geezer, or I’ll gut you like an oink-beast.”

Ishran didn’t move for a moment, before he finally turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

Behind him, their only knife left pressed against the oliveblood’s skin, looking rather gaunt and messy, was none other than Fayroe Fallen.

The young fuchsia’s eyes were bloodshot, their undersides dark from lack of sleep. His fins were wilted, horns bare of jewelry; he’d either hidden them or sold them. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, his clothes worse for wear than ever before.

Outwardly, Ishran didn’t react at first, but his thinkpan was flashing warning lights as wailing sirens went off, unbidden memories whirling through his mind as he stared at those horns.

Pain, pain, pain- shackles, bolts embedded in his wrists, chains beating his back, dragging him like a dog, the coliseum, his hammer, smashing through skin and muscle and bone. Breaking, breaking, scars and bleeding and no rest. Beast and troll crying out, the deafening cheers as his knuckled crumpled bone like faygo cans-

The whirring, chittering, subsonic roar of the drones. His hammer screaming off of carapace, chitinous armor flying across sand, sparks from the contact and then- pain. Naught but pain, struggling to breathe, burning lungs and broken ribs and PAIN-

When he snapped back to himself, Ishran found himself knelt on the prince’s chest, the knife spinning across the floor and his hands on the kid’s throat, teeth bared. Fayroe had his arms up to shield himself, as if expecting a beating.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, please-! I didn’t mean it, please don’t kill me!” The seadweller’s wails suddenly cut through the ringing in his ears. They sounded terrified and desperate, sobs hitching in their chest.

Ishran stared down at the sniveling fuchsia, his hands lax around their neck as he tried to mentally catch up with what just happened.

“Please, I didn’t mean it- I’m j- j- just so h- hungry- I w- wasn’t going to hurt you!” Fayroe continued to babble, covering his face with his arms.

The oliveblood managed to lurch to his feet and stumble away. He leaned on the map case with one hand, his blood-pumper hammering in his chest. Adrenaline was screaming through him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t breathe properly, he almost felt sick, but he managed to suck in a shaky breath.

“Who… are… you.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Behind him, the sniveling stopped abruptly.

“Wh- what?”

“You’re Enforcer’s spawn.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his voice shaky but even.

“I’m- I was just- I am-”

“Out with it, boy.” Ishran snapped.

“I was sleeping!” Fayroe shouted, his voice echoing around the empty station.

“… Here?”

“Yeah?”

“… Why?” Ishran wasn’t sure why he was asking. He didn’t even want to know, but the talking was making the buzzing in his skin fade. He turned to face Fayroe again, and saw the young troll had sat up, eyes huge in the gloom.

“Why do you care? Who are you?” They sniffed.

“I do not care. I am Ishran.” Deadscar stated bluntly, “Now answer my question.”

“I don’t take orders from lowbloods.”

Ishran’s brows settled low, and he turned away. “Fine.” He headed for the tracks.

“Wh- you’re leaving?”

“I have places to be.”

He heard Fayroe scramble to their feet. “Wait!”

He stopped.

“… Where… where are you going?” The fuchsia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Why should I tell you?”

“W- well- because you’re the Deadscar, aren’t you? Fath- Godric, talked about you a lot.” Oh, Ishran didn’t like that. There was a beat of silence, in which Fayroe was probably expecting a response. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “Take me with you.”

“I do not take orders from highbloods.”

“Wh- yes you do! You have to!”

“No.”

“But- but- but that’s-”

Ishran turned around to look at the descendant again. “I take orders from no one, boy, especially not the successor of the Enforcer.”

At that, Fayroe laughed bitterly, catching him off guard. “Successor? Not anymore, I’m not. Descendant, sure, but no successor.” He scuffed one foot against the platform. “… I got chased out. That’s why I was sleeping in here.”

They were interrupted as their stomach let out a feeble, yet loud gurgle, and they put their hand on their stomach. Their fins, somehow, drooped further.

“You are hungry.”

“I don’t have any money. I’ve got nothing but my hop-beast.” Fayroe huffed, shuffling his feet some more. “Godric saw to that.” Ishran looked around for said hop-beast, but Fayroe shook his head. “I left her with… erm… a friend. Or I guess, a former acquaintance, an engineer, who I made take her for a while. But she’s all I got.”

“Then we understand each other.” Ishran said, unmoved. Fayroe looked up, puzzled. “All that you see on my back is all I have anymore.”

“Oh…” An awkward pause fell. Tired of lingering, Ishran turned away again. “Wait- where are you going?” Fayroe called.

“To the desert.”

“Take me with you!”

Sighing, Ishran turned back once more. “Why?”

“I… I can be useful! I’m good at this survival stuff- I’ve lasted this long! It’s been…” They quickly ticked on their fingers, “Five weeks? Six?” They frowned, before looking back up. “Regardless, I can rough it, same as you, but I’m not… as good. Teach me, please! I’ll listen to everything you say, I’ll be helpful, I’ll-”

Ishran wasn’t really listening past that, memories once more overwhelming him. For a moment, he didn’t see a fuchsiablood, but a lime, standing before him and demanding to be taught how to use a bow. He’d been alone on the road for so long- his blood-pumper twinged with the thought of being on the move again with Amadri.

“- and, okay, I don’t know how to start a fire, or cook, or clean, but I’m willing to learn! I just don’t want to be alone anymore...” Fayroe’s words cut through the fog again, and the vision of Amadri was gone. “And I swear I won’t-”

“Fine.” Ishran said, making the younger troll stop.

“Huh?”

“You may join me. But you are to listen to my every order. You may be fuchsia, but I am your elder. You will not speak down to me, and I will not punish you for the sins of your father.”

Fayroe blinked at him, before they grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! Yes! You’ve got it, Deadscar!”

Ishran nodded once, and turned away for the final time. “Come, then.”

“Wh- now?”

“Yes, now.”

He kept walking, hopping down from the platform and following the tracks. Behind him, he heard Fayroe scoop up their knife and run after him. “Thank you, thank you, oh you won’t regret this, I swear!”

Ishran only grunted.

“So where are we going?”

“The desert.”

“Yeah, I know. Why, though?”

“To find someone.”

“Oh. Who?”

“A woman.”

Fayroe sighed, giving up on making conversation. He trailed after Ishran, pouting in silence, as they followed the tracks. . . . Regret, regret, regret- Irritation buzzed under Ishran’s skin like stinging wasps. It’d been just over a week- nine nights, to be exact- since he’d set out with Fayroe in tow. It’d taken a bit of rearranging on Ishran’s part, and a stop in a town to pick up extra supplies, but they were managing well enough. The oliveblood had even been nice enough to get Fayroe his own sleeping cocoon. His tent was really only meant for one, but Fayroe was small enough that they could squeeze in it together to sleep.

They woke before the sun had fully set each night, ate, and set out, stopping for only fifteen minutes every four hours for water and a small snack. When dawn approached, Ishran found a place to set up camp. They had dinner, then went to bed.

All of that would have been fine, had he had Amadri with him. But-

Ishran was not a religious man, yet he was just about ready to pray for mercy. Fayroe did not. Stop. Talking. Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long, but what was usually blissful silence was filled with chatter about anything. By the end of the third night, Ishran knew Fayroe’s life story, albeit unwillingly and without any prompting.

The complaining, too, grated on his nerves like sandpaper on stone.

“My feet hurt.” Fayroe had whined, three hours into their journey on the first night.

“They will toughen.”

“Can we take a break?” Was asked the second night, after they’d just set out.

“No.”

“I’m thirsty!” was announced mere minutes later.

“Now is not a time for drinking.”

And “How much farther do we have to go?” was a constantly repeated question.

“Far.” was the constantly repeated response.

Over and over, on and on. Ishran was ready to stuff wax into his ears to make it stop; he longed to have his matesprit with him instead- at least her voice was soothing, and not the snotty, whining drivel. When they made camp, he gave Fayroe tasks that either sent him away or forced him to stop talking, just for a reprieve.

On the sixth night, still following the tracks, they made it to the desert. Ishran filled their canteens and refreshed their rations at an outpost before they’d proceeded.

The desert was made up of rust red sand dunes, towering higher than ocean waves in storms.

It took them half an hour to make it over the first dune, before Ishran had an idea and turned around.

Returning to the outpost, he rented a pair of scaly-hoofs; draconic hoof-beasts used for crossing the desert. On the creatures’ backs, they made it over the dunes with ease. The dunes eventually faded behind them, until they were crossing miles of sandy plains.

For the next few nights, they saw little around them, even as they continued to follow the tracks. There was sparse vegetation, and an occasional covered well where they could refill their drinks. An abandoned shack or two where they could camp. Wild lusii avoided them, and Ishran only ever saw them at a distance.

On the ninth night, though, Ishran urged his beast to a stop before a sign.

“Turn back! Forbidden land!” was scrawled on a sheet of metal in curly writing.

Fayroe came to a stop beside him, examining the sign, too.

“What now?” He asked, pulling down his scarf; he’d wrapped it around his face to keep the sand out of his gills and mouth.

“We keep going.”

“But it says-”

“I can read. But we keep going.”

Ishran snapped the reins, and his beast carried on.

The further they went, the more signs they saw, all in the same writing.

“Danger!”

“Turn back!”

“Cursed land ahead!”

“Monsters roam beyond!”

“Unholy beasts dwell yonder!”

Ishran ignored them all, until, at last, they crested a hill and came to stop at the sight before them.

Bleached white by the sun, the teeth gleaming in the moonlight, was a massive, monstrous skeleton. Beyond it, just visible on the horizon, was the twisted and warped remains of a crashed and abandoned trackscuttler, laid across the tracks.

“What the fuck is that?” Fayroe exclaimed as he rode up beside Ishran.

“A beast’s bones.” He replied, before he suddenly remembered the Decaying’s words:

“No water but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. … Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.”

Ishran looked towards the trackscuttler again; from the distance, it was faint, but he could make out the gleam of water. A lake, if he were to guess. An oasis.

“A beast of bone.” He corrected himself, “We are close.”

“We are?” Fayroe repeated, surprised. “Oh, good.”

Ishran urged his beast into motion again, and they descended the hill, approaching the skeleton.

It truly was massive; one of the beast’s claws was four times the size of Ishran himself. He couldn’t be sure what it used to be, but it had a gnarled muzzle full of monstrous teeth, and he counted four eye sockets. Twisted and curled horns protruded from the skull, piercing the sky. To walk from the skull to tail would take a half an hour, at least.

As they were by the skull, though, Ishran stopped again. He looked around at their surroundings; nothing moved, not even the wind. He could see what looked like an outcrop of cliffs and rocks to the south. Looking up, he saw the moons were nearing their peak.

“We’ll stop here.” He decided.

“Already?” Fayroe asked.

“Yes.” Ishran turned and dismounted.

Fayroe had learned by then that he wouldn’t get a lot of explanations for much, so he dismounted, too. They put the tent up in silence, up against the jaw of the skull. After a moment’s deliberation, despite being out in the open, Ishran decided to start a fire.

“What if something sees it?” Fayroe asked uncertainly.

“That’s the idea.” Ishran grunted as he got a meal together and passed the seadweller a canteen. Fayroe had been rather selfish with the water, insisting he needed more due to his aquatic nature. Ishran wasn’t totally sure if that was true, but he was willing to give up a portion of his share if it stopped the whining.

Once camp was set up, they’d eaten, and the beasts were given their due of food and water, Ishran sat down, using the beast’s saddle as a chair on the ground. He pulled his dagger out of his boot, and dug in his bag, pulling out a half-carved figurine of a moth.

He set to work carving, flicking the scraps into the fire.

Fayroe sat on his own saddle, chin in hand, as his knee bounced impatiently.

“Whatcha making?” He asked, just to say something.

“A gift.”

“For who?”

“My partner.”

“You have a partner?”

“Yes.”

“What- what’re they like?”

Ishran paused and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“I dunno. Are they the woman we’re here for?”

“No. She is visiting her morail.”

“Oh.”

Ishran had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He resumed his work in silence.

“I’m bored.” Fayroe announced after two minutes.

“Then find something to do.”

“Like what? We’re in a desert! It’s not like there’s a filmhive out here.”

“Count the teeth in the skull. Go hunting. Brush the sand off the beasts. Take a nap.” Ishran listed without looking up.

Fayroe didn’t want to do any of that. After another minute of silence, they spoke again. “Why are we even stopped? We could keep going, you know.”

“We are where we need to be.”

“But there’s nothing out here!” Fayroe pouted.

“That’s enough!” Ishran finally snapped, setting his knife down and looking up. “I am aware there is nothing, but this is the spot I have been seeking.” He explained, ill-tempered, “Now is as good a time as any to rest, for I do not know what comes next. The beasts are tired, I am tired, and I am working out what to do. But there is no point running ourselves to exhaustion without direction, nor is there a point to whining! If you are bored, make yourself productive!” He snarled the last part, “You do not know what is out here, and our voices will attract unwanted attention. Do you wish to fight wild animals? You can’t even skin a dirt-spud!”

“But the fire would-” Fayroe began meekly.

“Would deter animals unused to the light, but be a beacon, perhaps, to the woman I am looking for! You have no thoughts other than those for yourself, boy, and I am sick of it! I did not force you to come, and if you are going to continue to stay, then you will hold your tongue and wait, same as I am!”

Fayroe had shrunk back so far he’d nearly fallen off his seat. Slowly, he scowled, and sat back up. He dropped his gaze, glowering at his shoes. “You sound like him.” He muttered lowly, ““Sit down and shut up, Fayroe. You don’t understand anything, Fayroe. I’m having you fucking tortured for your own good, Fayroe.””

“Perhaps that is because you never stop talking.” Ishran grouched without meaning to.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve never had someone to talk to!” Fayroe snapped back, just barely managing to keep their voice down.

Ishran opened his mouth, before Fayroe suddenly sat up and twisted to stare into the darkness towards the distant cliff outcrop.

Slowly, they got to their feet, eyes trained towards the south. Ishran paused, too, caught off guard by their sudden change in behavior. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

“Boy, what-”

“Sshh!” Fayroe flapped a hand at him, fin-fronds flaring wide as they leaned forward. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but- do you hear that?”

Ishran paused again and listened, but no sounds other than the fire and the huffing of the beasts came to him. “What do you hear?” He asked.

Fayroe frowned, squinting towards the outcrop. “It’s like… a growl? But constant. A roar? It- look!” He suddenly pointed towards the cliffs.

Ishran fished a pair of farsight-goggles out of his bag and stepped up beside Fayroe, raising them to his eyes. At first, he saw nothing, until he saw the dust plume.

Following it with his eyes, he saw… something, racing towards them. It was dark, and hard to make out, even with the goggles, due to the distance. Whatever it was, it was making a beeline for their camp.

Ishran lowered the goggles.

“Sit down, boy.”

“Wh- shouldn’t we run?”

“No. We will wait for it to come to us.” Ishran returned to his seat, slipping the goggles into his bag.

Fayroe hesitated, but slowly took a seat again.

“What if it’s an enemy?”

“Then it will be dealt with.”

Ishran calmly picked up his dagger and block of wood again, and resumed his work, while Fayroe watched the thing approach.

“Do you have a gun?” He asked after a moment.

“No.”

“Crossbow?”

“I do not use long range weapons.”

“Oh…”

Finally, after fifteen minutes, Ishran could hear the rumbling, too. He decided to break camp and pack up, before he picked up his hammer, bags resting at his feet. Five minutes more, and he got to his feet as the thing roared up to the camp, only to come to a sudden stop.

Now that it was close, Ishran could see the noise had come from an all-terrain buggy, its driver bent low over the handlebars.

The driver in question slowly sat up, pulling goggles up off its eyes.

“Who are ye?” It demanded, dismounting its vehicle, “Thou be on accursed lands and must make leave, posthaste!”

“We could ask you the same thing, weirdo.” Fayroe said haughtily, his hand going for the knife on his belt.

“Stand down, boy.” Ishran ordered. He lowered his hammer himself, squinting at the jadeblood. “What’s your name?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

The jade looked at him, tiny fins twitching. “Mine compatriots called me Cyber, but mine name be Alaric Evrren.” With a flourish of its hand, it bowed low to the oliveblood.

Outwardly, Ishran’s expression did not change. “Do you know a woman named Lucina?”

Alaric stood back up, brushing its hair back with a flick of its wrist. “Aye, be ye seekers of my ancestor?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“We were sent by her husband.”

“We were?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

Both midbloods ignored him.

“Oh, thou speaketh of the great captain? Mine forefather, Faslet?” Alaric nodded slowly, eyes scanning over the two of them. It drew its tongue over its fangs thoughtfully, before it nodded and turned away. “Upon thine word, I trust thou. Follow, and I shall shepherd ye to Lucina.” It mounted its buggy again, slipping its goggles down over its eyes.

Ishran nodded and turned, heading for the scaly-hoofs.

“It’s a funny little weirdo, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Fayroe asked quietly as they sidled up to Ishran.

“They will take us to Lucina.”

“Yeah… who is that?”

“The woman I am seeking.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once the beasts were saddled, the fire kicked out, and Ishran and Fayroe on their mounts, Alaric revved their buggy to life. It waved and shouted something, before it was off, tearing across the sand.

Ishran and Fayroe snapped the reins and gave chase.

The beasts managed to keep up with the buggy as they made for the cliff outcrop in the distance, the roar of the buggy’s engine drowning the night in noise.

Finally, Alaric swerved to a stop before the cliffs, and the other two slowed their mounts.

Cutting the engine, Alaric leaned on the handlebars and pointed. They’d come to a stop before a yawning cavern opening, one that looked troll-made. It was into the dark cave that the jadeblood pointed.

“Mine foremother lies within.”

Ishran nodded. “Boy,” He addressed Fayroe, “set up camp.”

“Aren’t we going in?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

“No.” Ishran dismounted and grabbed something from his bag, before he walked away.

“So… what’s with the muzzle?” Ishran heard Fayroe ask as he moved some distance away from the cave.

Putting his back to the other two, he turned his attention to palmhusk he’d procured. It was definitely nothing fancy- an older version he’d gotten for cheap at a pawn shop- but it still worked, and was durable for travel. Thumbing through the menus, he raised it to his ear as it rang.

“Aye?” The trembling voice of Ruthless picked up after a few rings.

“We found her.”

[Everyone please welcome Alaric Evrren! (Link to bio)]

#of monsters and matriarchs #story time #alaric evrren #the deadscar wanderer #fayroe fallen #long post #very long post

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kickingitwithkirk · 3 years

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Greetings From Austin: Part II

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 3985

Warnings: a/b/o, bisexuality, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, married life/disagreements, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, surrogacy

*Jensen acting out of character

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: For this part I did some research & delved into a bit of reproductive/genetic testing-please don’t dink me on details, I altered it a bit to fit A/B/O verse.

A/N III: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

Part I

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

One hour later

Jensen sets two sealed cups in the small niche shutting its door and grabs his jacket sliding it on, his inner Alpha purring with satisfaction watching his husband's fumbling fingers working at a button on his shirt, “Need any help babe?”

Jared’s all dilated pupils and glowing cheeks above his thick beard, “I’m good, I'll be out in a few.” Jensen leans in for one more soft, lingering kiss before leaving. Locking the door behind him Jared leans against it, closing his eyes, savoring the last vestiges of his oxytocin high.

He can’t stop recalling that mischievous glint in those luminous green eyes as Jensen slowly licked his plush lips before diving in to kiss him stupid, his long, sinful tongue doing things that’s probably illegal in twenty states, hands with ooh, so thick, talented fingers capable all sorts of magical things.

Shaking himself out of the memory he crossed over to the sink and caught his debauched reflection in the mirror. Shit, he can’t out looking like this.

Turning on the tap cups his hand to catch some of the running water splashing his face to cool off when his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket. Drying his hands and face he pulls it out checking the text. Glancing up he runs a hand over his thick beard, smoothing it down before leaving the room.

Completely preoccupied typing a reply he rounds the corner heading for the doctor's office slamming into a woman knocking her off her feet, the contents of the bag she’s carrying scatter loudly across the floor.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

From her seated position she looks up...and up, his long, long legs clad in low riding jeans barely held up by a loosely buckled leather belt, his shirts rucked-up, a bit of his treasure trail and toned abs flanked by the sharp V of his hip peeking out.

“FuckI’mfuckingsorryFuckdidn’tfuckingsee....”

Jared, embarrassed, keeps apologizing, laced with fuck every other word, squats down gathering scattered items, dropping them back into the bag continuously babbling until she bursts out laughing. “And here I be thinking I said fuck to much,” a subtle lilt in her voice making it sound like she’s saying fook instead.

They move around each other picking up the last of her stuff. Jared reaches for a scarf when the central air catches a few loose strands of her hair, lightly dancing them across his cheek.

He inhales sharply as her piquant scent travels through his system eliciting a rumbling purr deep in his chest, “Fuck..” She breathes out gazing directly into his kaleidoscope eyes, watching mesmerized as they bleed into red with arousal as her eyes flash gold in response.

“I..I..fuck..I’ve gotta go!” She sputters, scrambling to her feet, grabs the bag hurrying away, leaving him holding the scarf.

Lifting the forgotten fabric to his face Jared deeply inhaled her scent, reaching down presses against his cock chubbing up the second time that day. He morosely stares in the direction she fled in once more, a low whine of loss escapes before he tucks the scarf into his back pocket and resumes heading towards the doctor’s office.

Dr. Rodgers, standing just inside in a doorway observing unnoticed, makes a mental note.

***

Jensen watches amused as Jared sits down with a slight wince, a not unpleasant reminder of their recent interlude, teases, “Did I make that much of a mess out of you Jay?”

Jared shrugs with a nonchalant “eh.” Jensen lowers his chin leaning close growling his displeasure at the flippant response, Jared internally shivers knowing he’s gonna pay for it when they get home, much to his delight.

Jensen abruptly stops growling, “You stink like Omega!”

Dr. Rodgers comes in carrying a binder saving Jared from responding, “We’ll get your test results in about two weeks unless we see something that needs further investigation.” He sets down the binder in front of them, opening it to the first page revealing a dossier and picture.

“Now, the next bit is selecting an egg donor. I’m sure you're wondering how we select the donors. I rely on a protein compatibility test, similar to the markers blood test used when matching Alphas and Omegas, narrowing down prospective candidates.

All of our donors are Betas and Omegas. Several of the Betas are willing to be the surrogate too. If you choose to go with an Omega donor we will have the extra step of selecting a Beta surrogate but that’s something to discuss later if needed.

We also take into account your personal preferences when it comes to physical traits, personality, etc. I’ll introduce you to the top three that are the best matches. If for some reason none of them work out, we’ll try the next most compatible candidates.”

Dr. Rodgers clicks his pen, “Let’s get started shall we.”

***

Flipping off the light switch Jensen walks out of the bath to find Jared already asleep. Crossing over to their bed he stopped at his side admiring him.

How had he gotten so lucky to have Jared as his? Over fifteen years since that life changing meeting he was more in love with his mate than ever, the ups and downs in their relationship that could have torn them apart made their marriage stronger.

Jensen took hold of the book Jared had been reading, gently pulling it out of his hand, slid in a bookmark and placed it on the nightstand turning off the lamp.

Easing into his side of the bed he leaned over pressing a soft kiss to Jared’s bare shoulder, who only wore bottoms since he always ran warm. Shifting, Jared buries his face into Jensen's neck, draping a long arm across his chest snuggling close, “Thank you.”

“For what babe?”

“Helping me today,” he could feel Jared’s breath warm against his skin, “I know you're against having more but please don’t decide not to, I want to have pups with you.”

Jensen mentality sighed, he’d be forty-three before they were born and didn’t want to be the old dad. Jared had argued that he'd never be, they knew lots of people were having their families later, look at Reedus, fifty when his daughter came and JDM, he was almost fifty-two when George was born.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll say yes if we find one donor we both agree on,” he felt Jared’s emotions shifting more positive, “but if you like one and me another, I’m not doing it.”

Jared pressed several soft kisses to the side of his neck, “Okay Jen,” he agrees, shifting to lay his head on his shoulder, “we’ll find the one, I can feel it.” he sleepily finishes.

Jensen rests his cheek against the top of Jared's head, not fallen asleep for ages. How was he going to handle Jared’s inevitable disappointment, knowing it will happen since they have always had vastly different tastes in females.

***

Five days later

7:00 A.M.

Jared was up to mile three of his daily workout on the treadmill in his office. He usually ran outside this early in the morning but a surprise thunderstorm altered his plans for the day when his phone rang. He dialed the machine down to walking speed to answer.

“Hello, Mr. Page, this is Sissy from Dr. Rodgers office, I’m sorry to be calling so early. He would like for you to come back in for a follow up about your semen testing.” Jared’s throat tightened, closing off his ability to respond.

He stepped off the machine and sat down on the large leather couch, “Sorry I..what time can I come in?”

“We have an opening at 8:45, will that work?”

“Yes ma’am, I can be there then.”

“Great, we’ll see you in a bit Mr. Page.”

Jared sat back not caring he was getting sweat all over the leather and started his breathing exercise to calm himself, telling his brain to knock it off, surely it wasn’t anything major with how calm Sissy was on the phone.

Ten minutes later he was still anxious but able to handle it. He glanced at his watch and knew he had to get his butt in gear to make the appointment.

Walking into the bedroom he found Jensen softly snoring so he moved as quietly as he could grabbing some clean clothes and headed for the shower. He left a note by the coffee pot saying he had an errand and be back ASAP.

He pulled into the clinics parking lot with five minutes to spare. Tucking his hair into his ever present beanie, Jared slipped on his mask and dashed through the downpour into the clinic.

After being temperature checked, Sissy walked him to the doctor's office. Knocking on the door she opened it and Jared saw the doctor on the phone gesturing for him to come in as he finished his call.

“Hello Mr. Page, thank you for coming in. I wanted to go over a discrepancy the lab found with your test, I'll try not to use too much doctor jargon.” He layed three pages on the table in front of him, a color printout of a sperm DNA strand broke down into segments and the others Jared recognized as chromosome mapping. “These are part of the Alphas sperm DNA sequencing. Normally, this one has a wide band in this segment,” he pointed to a circled area on the right page demonstrating a normal sequence. “This is your sperm's DNA. What I wanted to show you is a variant in the same section,” he circled a column on the left page, “which contains a narrow band instead,” he highlighted one piece of the chain.

“What does it mean?” Jared asked nervously.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t know, I’ve never encountered this variant before. I looked at your previous testing from 2016 and it was also present on that test, not sure why it was overlooked. I’ve consulted with a few colleagues of mine to get their take,” he paused resting his arms on the desk watching Jared’s expression, “Mr. Page, I didn’t ask you to come in to upset you, I prefer to keep my clients in the loop if anything unusual does present with their testing. It’s possibly something that's genetically unique to you and affects nothing. I’d like to run a Tunel test, it’s a sperm chromatin structure analysis, it’ll give us more information to work with.”

Jared fidgeted, desperately wanting to chew on his fingers, “Umm…okay.”

“Good, it's not invasive at all, we just need some more sperm.” Dr. Rodgers says.

~~~

Jensen was stumbling around the kitchen working on his first cup of coffee when Jared walked in carrying a box from his favorite bakery.

“Those aren’t what I think they are?” Jensen asks as Jared sits the box down on the counter. He opens the lid inhaling the scent of decadent cinnamon roll goodness before pulling out one and taking a huge bite moaning pornographically, “Babe, whatever I did to warrant these remind me to do it again,” he says with his mouthful.

Jared chuckles as his mate continues making obscene noises before bending down taken a bit from the other side earning warning snarl.

“You are so not a morning person.” Jared chided sliding the box over to retrieve his own taking it setting down at the island bar pulling a chunk off.

“You wanna share what’s rattling around in that big head of yours?” Jensen inquires. Jared chews slowly before answering. “I got a call from the clinic, something showed up in my test.”

Jensen snapped fully alert, his roll forgotten, and sat down next to him, “Jared, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Jared fiddled with his roll, pulling it apart, “No, not that I’m aware of but they found something off and don’t know what it is. Dr. Rodgers said it’s probably nothing but wanted to run another test to see if he can figure out what it is what if something is wrong and turns out I was the reason Genevieve couldn’t get pregnant I don’t know if I can handle it the possibility of not being able to have pups I’ve wanted them for so long I can’t imagine our lives...”

“Jared,” Jensen sharpness interrupts Jared’s incessant rambling, making him go quiet, “I know you want to go to the worst possible outcome but let’s wait till all the tests are back. If it’s something, we’ll deal, we always do.”

***

August 3rd

“Jen, move your ass, were gonna be late!” Jared bellows from downstairs.

“I’m coming...dammit!” Jensen cursed as he tripped over the boxes left sitting by the bottom step. “You need to get the rest of this shit out of the way, about killed myself again!”

“I’ll stay up tonight moving the rest of this fucking shit if you’ll get a fucking move on!”

The sniping at each other had gotten worse since the house renovations were barely completed before heading back to Vancouver.

Jensen moved his music studio into the newly created space in the basement from the former guest quarters, now relocated to the spacious pool house. The empty upstairs rooms were converted into the eventual nursery/kids rooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them.

“You better start watching your goddamn language cause the last thing we need is for our kids to have a trash mouth like…don’t roll your eyes at me!” Jared threw his arms up in disgust before storming out to the garage getting in Jensen’s truck. They drove to the clinic in silence.

They were flying out tomorrow to quarantine for two weeks before resuming shooting on the eighteenth. Then the clinic called their tests were back and Jared didn’t want to wait till they got back for the results.

After their temperature check they were immediately escorted to the doctor’s office finding him already there. “Mr. Bonham, Mr. Page, pleasure to see you, please have a seat.” They sit next to each other not touching. “Is there something wrong gentleman?”

“Why do you ask?” Jensen barks, “Fuck man, don’t be rude!” Jared bit back earning a glare that makes most sane people back away from Jensen.

“Gentleman, no need to fight. It may surprise you but I actually see a lot of hostility between my clients. I’m sure the added stress of the quarantine while trying to start a family is putting your Alpha instincts more on edge, is it not?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m sorry sir, I was raised better.”

Jared gave an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry too sir, and you're right.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time and understand the situation from your side, my wife and I had trouble conceiving. We ended up having two sets of twins within three years, now that’s stress.”

Jensen blinked, “And I thought mine were a handful.”

Dr. Rodgers laughed, “They are a blessing but honestly, it’s an absolute madhouse at times. So, let’s get back to you two. Mr. Bonham, everything looks good, you are in the top percentile when it comes to mobility and live sperm count for your age group. One of the advantages of being an Alpha, unlike us poor Betas who’s diminish with age.”

“Mr. Page, I also have your results and the Tunel tests which turned out to be something.. unique.”

Jared eyes widened as he paled, his breath hitching, feeling his stomachs spastic tightening making him about vomit. He knew it, he knew something was going to go wrong, his brain didn’t lie to him this time.

Jensen was out of his chair and utilizing his Alpha strength turned Jared’s towards him before kneeling between his legs reaching up to firmly grip the sides of his head forcing him to focus on him opens up his side of their bond he’d shut the other day when they were arguing to gauge how bad this one was.

“Hey Hey, concentrate on me, I need you to breathe with me,” he held Jared’s gaze for several minutes as their breathing cinqued up, feeling him relaxing.

“There you go big guy. It wasn’t that bad, focus on your breathing okay.” Jared nodded embarrassed as Dr. Rodgers sat a bottle of water in front of him, “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

“No, he’s fine, thank you,” Jensen answers, getting up retaking his chair as Jared took a long drink from the bottle, “he’s usually more aware of these attacks but since the damn lock-downs.” Jensen shook his head in disgust, “We're heading back to Vancouver tomorrow to finish our sh..job before his new one starts late October. I guess it’s really hitting us both that it's finally ending.”

“Mr. Ackles, you can say show,” Jared and Jensen stare at him in surprise, “my daughters are fans, I know more about the Winchester brothers than a man my age should.” Dr. Rodgers ruminates, “Mr. Page, are you ready for me to continue?” Jared nodded as Jensen wrapped both of his hands around his free one.

“After I received the results I spoke with a specialist in Alpha genetics. They looked at all your tests and came back with a conclusion I’ve never heard of before.” The doctor laid a printout on the desk, “This is a visual aid to help me in explaining.”

“Chemoattactants are what a female's egg releases to attract the sperm to it. You know how it works from there; sperm meets egg, sperm penetrates egg and viola, fertilization. Alphas sperm has evolved allowing them to inseminate all three sub-genders, whereas male Omegas sperm is sterile since they possess both sets of reproductive organs but only need to utilize one.”

The doctor sets all three of Jared’s tests and the normal example on his desk for them to see, “This chromatin structure you carry Mr. Page,” he points to the highlighted section, “has altered so that the eggs of Alphas and Betas are chemorepellent to your sperm, rejecting fertilization.”

Jared sat still-shocked, blankly staring at the results lying before him, vaguely feeling Jensen reaching across their bond again. “Does this mean he’s...infertile?” He can hear Jensen hesitant inquiry, like he's standing across a vast chasm.

“In conventional terms, yes. This is the reason you were unable to conceive with your previous spouse, being a Beta, and there is still no medical intervention available that would have helped. What’s unique is his sp...”

Jared was numb. His dreams of a little Padackles tearing around their home had literally been salt and burned before his eyes with those test results.

In the recesses of his attention he’s aware of the continuing conversation around him, the longer it goes on, the more his brain is tuning out.

~~~

The first thing he becomes aware of are fingertips caressing his face, softly wiping away wetness damping his cheeks. Slowly blinking the blurry shape in front of him comes into focus.

Jensen is sitting in front of him. More accurately, he’s sitting cross legged in between his own splayed legs on the floor. Jared frowns as his senses are coming back online.

He was sitting on the chair that’s now off to his right so how did he end up with his back against the desk?

“You passed out,” Jensen answers his unspoken question, “and scared the ever-living shit out of me! I thought you were having an aneurysm the way your eyes rolled back into your big head!”

“I..I..don’t know what happened, I was looking at the results, you were asking questions..then nothing.”

“Stress Jared, you are completely stressed out and it's fucking with your illness!” He opens his mouth, “No, I’m not done so be quiet.” Jensen’s voice dropped with his Alpha tone overlaying it,

“Between that final script having you nuts all year, this quarantine fucking up your meds, dealing with your businesses shutdowns, getting Walker started, you had to add pushing for pups, it’s no wonder you couldn’t handle the doctor explanation of...”

“Explanation of what?” Jared lashes back in own Alpha voice, leaning forward into Jensen’s space, his eyes flashing red, “That I’m infertile, sterile, shooting blanks..”

“Shut that fucking mouth for two minutes or I swear I’ll deck you.” Jensen’s normally warm green eyes bleed into a fierce red, becoming hard.

Jared’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. They had gotten into plenty of arguments over the years, gotten in each other’s faces a few times but this was a first. Jensen had never, ever threatened physical harm.

Well, somewhat that time Misha set him off during a panel and he went for him afterwards. Misha stupidly goaded him again before Jensen gave him a shove, ordering him to cool off before he had to do something.

Jensen’s jaw ticked as he mentally counted to ten, “Dr. Rodgers said that you couldn’t impregnate another Alpha or Beta right?”

“Right.”

“The part you zoned out is that your sperm wants to only fertilize an Omega’s eggs.”

Sighing heavily, Jensen crawls over a leg to sit against the desk next to him. Jared pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees processing this information as Jensen reaches over and gently rubs his hand in random patterns over his back.

They had mutually agreed on a Beta donor. Now this threw a wrench in the plans.

“Maybe this is a sign we’re rushing into this again. Let’s take a step back and consider all our options.” Jared’s muscles stiffened under his hand.

“I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping.”

“Wait...what?”

Jared lifted his head, “I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping. I realize this isn’t what you want so don’t worry, I’m not gonna hold you to our agreement.”

Jensen exhaled sharply knowing when Jared spoke in that tone, that was it, end of discussion, mind made up.

Jared gets up, “I’m going to find Dr. Rodgers and see if he's still willing to help me. If you want to leave, go. I’ll get an Uber when I’m done.” He walks out quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck!” Jensen closed his eyes thumping his head back against the desk. He knew he had screwed up and there was only one way to make it right.

***

Jensen asked Jared to let him stay, he was wrong for saying that and he'd be open to one of the Omegas as a possible donor too. Jared wasn’t completely appeased but he was happy Jensen didn’t take the out given him.

The three candidates were smart, attractive, lovely scented Omegas in their twenties that any Alpha looking for a prospective mate would seriously consider, leaving Jensen wanting something else.

“I like aspects of all three Jay, but honestly, I'm not feeling it with any of them.”

“Maybe you’ve reached the stage you’re looking for more substance, less aesthetic.”

“Did you just call me old?” Jensen gaped at his husband.

Before Jared responds, Dr. Rodgers enters, “I see from your expression Mr. Bonham that you haven’t decided on a candidate.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like any of them, there isn’t a..”

“Connection. It’s normal, just because your Alpha doesn’t mean you..desire every Omega you cross paths with. With some it takes time to find the right one.” He looks at his watch.

“We’re at the end of our appointment but I have one more donor I’d like you to meet today. She’s doesn’t exactly fit your personal physical preferences but this omega is...special..and she’s willing to be the surrogate too.”

The doctor opens the door gestures to someone. They stand up to greet her and as she enters they are enveloped by her piquant scent.

“Mr. Page and Mr. Bonham, this is Quinn.”

***

tbc

Part III

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

SPN: @donnatix @lyarr24

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#j2 #alpha!jensen ackles x alpha!jared padalecki #j2 fanfic #alpha!jensen ackles #jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #jared padalecki #alpha!jensen x alpha!jared x omega!ofc #j2 au #j2 husbands #surrogate #supernatural

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amostimprobabledream · 4 years

Text

Monster Skin (Izaya Orihara x Reader)

Happy Halloween! Have some supernatural, mild Yandere!Izaya. Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304819 You are running. The streets seem to mock you as you dashed through alleyways and tore down streets, garbage swirling up in the breeze kicked up by your feet. You knew that home wasn't too far away - but even the shortest distance might be enough for one of them to catch you. You had been naïve to think that you were safe to leave the safety of home. You'd just been...so cooped up and bored, you didn't think it would be a bad thing to go outside for a while, stretch your legs and change the environment a bit. Plus, you were low on supplies and the idea of doing a little shopping had appealed strongly to you. Oh, you could have whatever you needed if you just asked, but you wanted to get it for yourself. You just wanted a little independence - was that so wrong? Apparently, yes. As you run down the street, panting, you listened out for the sound of footsteps chasing you. They seemed to have died down some, but you know enough not to let your guard down. Just because you can't hear them doesn't mean they aren't still out there. You have to stop, though. Just for a second - the stitch in your side from running is getting almost unbearably painful and you’re almost home. You can see a light shining from one of the windows, like a beacon of hope. And then something slams into you, so hard it knocks you off your feet and sends you hitting the floor, skidding a little across the cobblestones. The cuts on your arms and body throb with pain as they scrap across rough stone and a shriek leaves your mouth, like an animal in a snare. You look up to see a wolf over you, eyes glowing in the darkness, claws bared. Behind him, more of them are closing in. You try to get up, blood pounding through you in sheer panic, but the creature has knocked the wind clean from your lungs and it’s taking up all of your concentration just to get your breath back. You fumble for a weapon, snatching a knife off your belt, but you know such a paltry blade wouldn't do much more than inconvenience them. "Don't..." you say, trying to sound like you had some authority to command them, but your voice comes out shaking. They're circling you now - creatures of the night, all too willing to rip you to shreds for a taste of flesh, of your blood. But you're not going to lie there and wait for them to kill you, so you stagger to your feet, holding the glinting blade out in front of you. Your legs feel like jelly and you can see your breath escaping you in clouds of vapour, but you stare the wolf down in the eyes anyway.And you hope for a miracle. The wolf bares his teeth and he's close enough that you can count each and every one of his razor-sharp fangs. He lunges. You brace yourself. And then, he stops, looking astonished. You stare at him and he stares down at himself - where a puddle of scarlet is growing on his chest, matting the fur and shreds of T-shirt still clinging to his torso. You look stupidly at the knife you're holding, even though he didn't even get close enough to you for you to use it - the blade seems to wink up at you, clean as a whistle. Then the wolf collapses onto his front and you stagger backwards. The other monsters are staring at you in numb, horrified silence. Wait, no - they aren't staring at you. They're looking at what's right behind you. You don't want to turn around, you really don't, but your head starts craning around before you can stop yourself. A very familiar smile greets you. "Hello, sweetheart." Izaya takes a step forward, and the entire horde take a step back, like some bizarre dance, the body of the fallen werewolf providing something of a marker for them to cower behind. And with good reason - Izaya looks calm, outwardly. He's smiling as usual and his body is still, but his wings are flared slightly and you know him well enough to be able to tell the changes in his mood from the subtle shifts in his smile. And judging by the tightness around his eyes, the way his lips are slightly thinned, you know this. Izaya Orihara is pissed. His eyes flick over your injuries, briefly, but it's enough for him to assess the damage. You won't die of them, at any rate, but some of the cuts are deep and still bleeding, no doubt spilling more of your tantalising scent into the air. He steps closer, moving in front of you and twirling another one of his knives around his finger. The same silver blade that just killed a full-grown werewolf in seconds. He tilts his head, surveying the terrified gathering of monsters. You notice he's blocking you a little with one of his wings, hiding you from their sight. "So," Izaya drawlss, tilting his head, eyeing those unfortunate enough to be at the front of the crowd. "Who wants to die next? I'm not picky. Anybody else wants a bite of my human, hmm?" The horde scatter. It's like he's spoken a magic spell, dispersing both them and the blinding panic that had swallowed you with a few casual words. He watches the crowd part with a vague air of satisfaction, though his red eyes still have a chilliness that is more unnerving than anything else about him, knives included. It's only when the last of the monsters vanished that you suddenly feel your knees give out, hitting the ground hard. Pain bites into your kneecaps and you know they will bruise later, but now that the panic and adrenalin are starting to fade, terror at what had almost happened starts to sink into your brain. They...they almost...oh, fuck! Izaya turns to you, gives a fond sigh, like you're a child who has fallen and scraped her knee. He gives you his hand. "Come on, darling. Let's go home." ~ The stuff Izaya says will stop your wounds from getting infected smells strange, sort of lemony and sharp. You wrinkle your nose as he applies it to the slashes on your arms, his touch surprisingly gentle. Still, even in the relative safety of Izaya's castle, you can't stop yourself from shaking. If he hadn't have come to your rescue when he had, you'd probably be in pieces by now. A stark reminder of how weak you are compared to the other beings around here. Not only that, but guilt curdles in your stomach. Izaya hasn't said much about your ill-advised adventure (a rarity for him), but he doesn't need to speak for you to know the enormous mistake it was. You look down at your hands as Izaya is apparently satisfied your injuries have been sufficiently tended to, because he nods and seals the lid of the jar, setting it to one side. He looks at you, but you can't quite bring yourself to meet his eyes. "I did warn you not to go out at night," Izaya says in a hum, and it's the lack of accusation in his voice that breaks you. "I'm sorry-!" you blurt out, feeling tears stinging your eyes. "I just...I just wanted...to..." There's a lump in your throat and it's hard to talk around it. What excuses can you give that won't sound ridiculous? He's right, he has told you, but maybe the dangers of it hadn't really sunk in for you, being relatively well-protected as you are inside these walls. Well, you sure know your limitations now, don't you? Izaya hums in the back of his throat and holds out his arms. It's all the invitation you need to bury yourself in his chest. You don't want to start crying but the sobs take over, the mélange of guilt, relief, fear and frustration too much for you to hold back. For his part, Izaya takes it in good humour, tutting theatrically but also bringing you closer, shifting you onto his lap. He doesn't utter a word of complaint as you promptly soak his T-shirt, merely running his hands up and down your back in a soothing gesture that you wouldn't have thought he'd be capable of. "Sssh. Silly thing," he practically coos, dragging his fingers through your hair, admiring how soft it is. "You didn't think I'd let them hurt my lovely little human, did you?" Unseen by you, Izaya grins. He can't help himself. He just loves it when you're like this - so needy and sweet and vulnerable. It makes his heart race when his human shows her weakness to him, especially since he can be comfortable in the knowledge that you were never in any real danger at all. He had seen your wanderlust, noted the early warning signs for cabin fever ages before you. His castle is large and given who he is, anything you could want, he can get it with a snap of his fingers. But all the luxury in the world won't stem the yearning for freedom he knew was singing in your veins, begging to be released. It's not that he had you under lock and key before, but he knew forbidden you from venturing out past his territory would only fuel your feelings of being imprisoned and you'd fight harder to be free. He couldn't have that, not when you were so endlessly entertaining. So Izaya had arranged things just so, knowing you'd choose a night when the moon was full and the night wasn't too cold, to venture out and explore. You were free to wander around in the day, so naturally the night Izaya had warned you about would be the perfect forbidden fruit. He'd informed the nearby colony of monsters there would be a human in their midst that night and paid them to give you chase, remind you of why they were to be feared. Obviously, the werewolf had allowed bloodlust to overrule his common sense, and anything that actually harmed you had to die. Izaya felt only slightly annoyed he had forgotten to retrieve his knife from the werewolf's body - they didn't come cheap, after all. When you start to calm down a little bit, he tilts your face up, taking in your adorably teary eyes for a second, before pressing his lips to yours. You respond enthusiastically, likely taking comfort in the familiar, or perhaps you're relieved he isn't angry with you. How can he possibly be, when you're just so damn cute? "Can we, um...stay like this a while?" you ask Izaya, shifting a bit closer, so warm and soft. He smirks and brushes a thumb across your bottom lip, watching your eyes darken pleasingly. Perhaps you were angling to express how glad you were to be alive in the more carnal sense? His wings flexed at the thought. "Anything for you, lovely." he purrs, dragging you in for another kiss. It strikes Izaya as funny. Even if you didn't know you weren't in any real danger at the time, he'd never seen you look so terrified as when you were cornered by the gang of snarling monsters. Yet here you were, with the thing you truly should be afraid of, giving yourself to him all too willingly. Humans are peculiar like that, especially you. But that was why he took such measures to make sure you didn't leave or want to, why he spoils you so much, why he's willing to indulge you. It's selfish desire at its finest, the perfect plaything for Izaya to have all to himself. He nips your bottom lip hard, making you squeak, a hand pulling you closer still, his eyes agleam with avarice. How he adores you.

#Durarara!!#Reader Insert #Izaya Orihara x Reader #AU #Yandere!Izaya #Readerfic #Fantasy #Halloween #Writings #Yandere

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6rookie-writer0110 · 4 years

Text

Don't let the world delete you

All-Might x Male Reader

Request- Can you make a My Hero Academia fic for being all for one's son who's a student at ua cause he hates his dad and his quirk is making invisible and indestructible objects like an wall people run in some stairs an elevator and so on and his skilled in fighting and knows pressure points and all might finds put after the attack at the usj and R tells him he hates his dad and wants to put him in jail after ripping his arms off so he can't use his quirk anymore also R knows about his skinny form

You are a hero in training and you go to U.A. High School. Your teacher is All-Might and He teaches Foundational Hero Studies. Also, he does teach fighting techniques and your homeroom teacher is Shota Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

You hate your quirks because you got it from your father. You hate him with a burning passion and he is a horrible person. If he was dying and you had the antidote you won't save him.

Your quirk is you can turn in invisible and you be indestructible when objects are thrown at you. And you can go through wall people run in some stairs an elevator etc. You have improved your fighting skills because you know their pressure points, easy for you to fight them.

---

Your class is A-1, not many like you and your friends because of what happened in the past.

You have been training hard because are quarter-finals of the sports festival.

”Y/N good luck” Kirishima said.

”Thank you” You said.

”This will be a good fight. You and Bakugo are really strong” Mineta said.

You will fight against Bakugo in thirty seconds. You start to stretch out your arms and legs. Bakugo goes to the field first then it's your turn.

Endeavor and All Might are watching the fight between you and Bakugo.

”Y/N has gotten stronger. Tell me, All Might are you going to be his mentor? Not many will take Y/N because of his father” Endeavor said.

”Y/N is nothing like his father. He will be a good hero, he needs a lot of training” All Might said.

Endeavor didn't say anything, they keep watching the fight and it's intense. You and Bakugo are neck to neck. Bakugo started to use his powers to the max, the explosions are intense. But you still can block it but not for long. You used your quirk to go underground.

”Come out and fight me!!” Bakugo yelled.

He is getting ready, when you come out then he will want to attack you. But you have a trick up your sleeve when you came out then Bakugo kicked you in the stomach then started to punch you. One of his kicks hit you in the nuts.

MT lady, was going to stop the fight but you and Bakugo stopped her. You punched him in the face then, You start to run towards him and putting a metal pole that hits his nuts and knocks him.

”Enough!” Eraserhead yelled.

He used his powers to stop you and Bakugo. But Bakugo is passed out and you can't use your powers for a while.

✯ ✬ ✯ ✫

After what happened at the sports festival, All Might became worried about you. You are at home with your mom and siblings, you used to stay on campus but they sent you home. You are in your bedroom and you using your laptop. Your little brother barged in your bedroom

”Y/N! All Might is here!” He yelled with excitement.

Your eyes opened wide.

”Seriously?” You asked.

”Yes!! All Might is here!! I will ask if he can sign my poster!! Do you have a marker, Y/N!?!?” He yelled.

You gave him a pen.

”No!! I want a marker!! My friends will be so jealous!” He yelled again.

You gave him a sharpie and he smiled big. He runs to his bedroom, to get the poster and collectible action figure toy. You go to the living room and he is drinking tea with your mom. All Might is in his form.

”All Might, what are you doing here?” You asked.

”I came to see you and talk to your mom. I see potential in you to be a good hero, but you have a lot to learn. I still have a lot to teach you” All- Might said.

”Y/N if you want to go back, we will always support you. I will want you to follow your dreams and never let the past stop you” Your mom said.

”I want to be the best hero. But I'm not sorry what I did to Bakugo” You said.

”We will work on that too. Y/N pack your belongings because you are going to camp” All-Might Said.

You nod and your brother did get All-Might’s autograph and a picture. Your mom packed a bento box for you and All-Might. Before leaving you hugged your mom and left with All Might.

----

All-Might and other teachers will go camping with the students. The students will learn to control their powers and go to their med level, learn survival skills, and work together.

Everyone is surprised and happy to see you. Everyone just met the Wild, Wild Pussycats are one of the four hero teams that founded the Union Affairs Office. They are veterans and well known for their teamwork.

Somehow everyone in the camp found out who is your father. You don't know how they found out or who told them, but you don't care what they have to say. You just ignore them.

✯ ✬ ✯ ✫

Class is over and you packing your stuff. You are friends with Midoriya and you do get along with the others too. Expect for Bakugo and other students from different classes.

”Y/N, do want to join us for lunch?” Midoriya asked.

You were going to say something but everyone noticed All-Might is by the door.

”Y/N, lunch?” All-Might asked.

”Okay” You said.

”Y/N later meet us by the lake for a swim” Iida said.

”Sure” You said.

You leave and follow All-Might to somewhere private.

---

”Y/N I want to show you something” All Might said.

”What is it?” You asked.

He changed into his skinny form.

”This is my true form” All-Might said.

”I know” You said.

”Wait-when?” All-Might asked.

”I saw you training Midoriya at the beach. That's when I saw you transformed and I was surprised by it” You said.

”And you never told anyone?” All-Might asked.

You shake your head.

”No. I'm not that kind of person” You said.

You and All-Might start to eat.

”I fought your father All For One before. You are nothing like him not even close. Y/N, I did mean it when I said you will be a good hero. I want to help you achieve your goal” All-Might said.

”I hate him so much. Growing up, he would abuse me and my family. I want to be a hero and I want to help you stop my father and I don't care how we will stop him. I know he was the first to use all for one power but he only used it for evil” You said.

All-Might can see the hate you have for your father in your eyes. He changed the subject to cheer you.

✯ ✬ ✯ ✫

You and All-Might found out the camp is under attack. You or All-Might can't call for help because there is no good signal. You and All-Might run towards the camp and he transformed.

Your father is attacking the camp with his team. All For One looks at you and All-Might

”You have no chance to stop me” All For One said.

You glared at him.

”I will beat you to a bloody pulp” You snapped.

Tomura and Dabi want to fight you and All-Might. Midoriya, Iida, Todoroki, Uraraka, Kirishima, and Mineta are fighting the other villains. Now All-Might is fighting Dabi to get to your father. Now you start to run towards your father but Tomura will try to stop you. But you went underground get away from him

”I wanted to punch you in the face for a long time!” Bakugo yelled at Tomura.

Bakugo punched Tomura in the face and he falls down hard.

---

You and your father start to fight and he isn't holding back. You are not holding back either, You start to punch him in the chest then did a combo to his face.

”You are weak like your mother. You will never defeat me” All For One said.

All-Might starts to help you. Your father is using all his powers to stop you and All-Might. You were going to kick him in the face but he grabbed your leg and threw you towards the ground. All-Might used his ultimate move to stop him before he hits you.

You struggled to get up but you won't give up. You see his pressure points and that's where you will attack. You start to use all powers to attack him, your father is taking blows to his body. All-Might is also giving him major blows to the body. Then you gripped on his arms tight that he starts to bleed. Then ripped his arms off so he can't use his quirk anymore. He falls down to the ground and you are breathing hard.

”Y-”

You passed out.

✯ ✬ ✯ ✫

You, your friends, and All-Might end up in the hospital. They start to worry about you and go to see you. The doctor told you that you need to rest for a few weeks without using your powers.

Your friends saw you and they all hugged you. You are in pain and they are really happy you are getting better.

”Y/N we are happy that you finally woke up” Midoriya said.

”It’s good to see all of you” You said.

”We don't care who is your father. We know the real you and to us, you are our friend and a hero” Iida said.

Everyone agreed with him. You know he is telling the truth and he wouldn't lie about it.

”We got this for you. It's a get well gift bag. Y/N-” Midoriya said.

He didn't finish his sentence because Bakugo said something.

”Good to see you are awake,” Bakugo said and left.

”You too” You said but he didn't hear you.

Everyone stayed for a little more and ate dinner with you. Later they leave the room and you start to write a letter

{Next Day}

They all go to your room but it's empty. You left the letter on the bed and Iida starts to read it out loud.

”I had a good time being friends with everyone. I won't forget everyone and the good times we had. This isn't goodbye forever just means we will see each other later. Please take care of each other... Okay I won't read the last part” Iida said.

Mineta grabbed the letter and read the last part.

”It says PS, fuck you Bakugo” Mineta said.

”I’m going to miss him” Midoriya said.

”We will miss him too. But I feel he will come back” Todoroki said.

---

You and your family left Tokyo after what happened, your family wants to avoid the reporters. It won't be easy but your family just wants to lay low for a while. You didn't tell anyone where you are going to live and you also left a letter for All-Might, letting him know that you will be okay.

#all might imagine #my hero academia imagines #all might x reader #all might x male reader #My Hero Academia imagine

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sopfr3 · 4 years

Text

Prank gone wrong?

BNHA x gn! Reader

In which the bakusquad and Y/n prank bakugou, but it goes wrong in so many ways.

Warnings: cursing, Y/n having a little crush on everyone 0.o (that hoe), maybe OOC characters?

[[stupid decisions start......

NOW]]

"im sorry, bro. but I can’t risk it.” Kirishima said, shaking his head in shame. I sighed, knowing if he said no, everyone will follow with him.

“come on kirishima! you’re supposed to be the dwane johnson of the group,” i tried convincing him. Currently, I’m trying to convince the bakusquad to prank Bakugou, because he did something real dirty to me

“Oi, airhead!” Someone yelled to me. I turned around and saw Bakugou standing at one side of the door turning his head to the left to show that he found something.

“whatcha need, my man?” I said, pointing my fingers out and making little guns. “pew pew, right?” He just gritted his teeth and bit down a snarky remark. “do it for the vine,” he kept on repeating to himself quietly.

“you like the Backstreet Boys, right?” He said with a smirk plastered on his face, knowing all too well of my obsession.

“like them? i LIVE for them! i mean, have you seen them? i’d turn down even todo, my beautiful babay, for them. wait, are they here?!?! bitch, move!” I said, running faster then Kaminari saying something stupid. Already, I’m gasping for air, even if I’ve only been running for a few seconds. But the time I reached the door, I realized that Bakugou was acting a little too noice, and that he also had his phone out.

But I noticed too late, and there was that clear stuff people use to put on for food right in front of my face, and my face went right up against it. Since that happened, my body went straight forward, leaving my head behind, and making me fall. I could hear Bakugou’s laughter in the background, and he’s having trouble breathing from how much he’s laughing.

“if you don’t start running, you’ll have another reason why you won’t breathe.” I said, still laying flat on the ground. I could hear his laughing stop, but he just walked over to me, crouched down, and started talking.

“that’s what you fucking get for putting foot cream in my moisturizer, dumbass.” He half yelled, half said. “what? you don’t get the reference?” I said, still trying to catch my breath because I’m out of shape. Then there was a silence.

“...”

“now you pay for your sins, okay?” I said, but before Bakuhoe can say anything I tackled him on the ground, so I was on top of his stomach

“YOU HOE!! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?! I THOUGHT I HAD A CHANCE OF MEETING MY DREAM BAND— no, I kNEW I HAD A CHANCE BUT YOU FOOLED ME!!” I yelled, while shaking his collar of his shirt with my hands. He started yelling his own insults while trying to get me off of him, but I wasn’t planning on getting off anytime soon because we’re talking about tHE BACKSTREAT BOYS!

“get off me, you crazy bitch!”

“oh, you haven’t seen crazy yet!”

“h-hey Y/n’s- A-AH, sorry!” Someone said, making me stop treating Bakugou like he was a rag doll and turn around, seeing a blushing Izuku. “oh, hey Izuku!” I said, waving to him, but Bakugou took this moment to shove me off of him.

“i-i’ll leave you g-guys to it,” Izuku said, running of to wherever, then hearing someone yell, ‘get some’ to Bakugou. Then I facplanted.

“yeah, I still need to tell the poor cinnamon roll that I was trying to kill Bakugou. but, that’s the reason why I need your help! we’re doing him a favor, if anything.” I said, sweat dropping. I see Kirishima blushing, then I pinch his checks and say,

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite shark boy.”

“idk about you guys, but count me in!” Kaminari said,

“did you just say I don’t know in—”

“shhhhshshhshshhh.” Kaminari said, shoving his whole hand on Seros mouth, but then Kaminari pulled away quickly when Sero licked it. “that’s straight up nasty, dude.”

“Kaminari, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—” Mina started, “Mina, yes, it’s a very stupid idea, but with a great outcome!” I started, then they all shhhhhhed me because we’re all in the dorms, standing outside of the spawn of Satans door. “okay.” She said, shrugging, “we’re all going to die someday, and it’ll probably be by Bakugou anyways,”

“that’s the spirit!” I said, clapping my hands together, but the two people who actually had common sense were still on the edge about it.

“i’ll pay you guys $50.”

“deal.” Sero said. “wait, but I want $50,” Kaminari whined, “shhhshhhshsh, we can’t always get what we want, Kami,” I whispered, patting him on the shoulder.

“that’s not very manly, Y/n.”

“well, you gotta do what you gotta do, ami right?” I said, but they just left me hanging.

Then I pulled out the trusty black sharpie marker that I always keep on myself, even though I tell Aizawa otherwise.

“okay guys, this day will forever go down in history as the stupidest death, got that? okay.” I said, starting to open the door. “Wait!” Sero yelled, holding out his hand. And I thought that he had common sense. Everyone looked at him and gave him the are-you-serious look. “we need to name it.” He said, pointing to the weapon. “hmmm, I approve.” I said, then I hold out the marker on my hand. “okay guys, we gotta-”

“satan,”

“jesus,”

“benjamin,”

“mark.”

“what kind of name is Benjamin?” I asked to whoever said it, then Kaminari replied. “i dunno, isn’t he the one who invented it?”

“huh, that name doesn’t seem so bad now.” I said, “benjamin it is then.” As I said that, I pointed the marker to the sky like it was a sword. I turned around and opened the door, then looking around Bakugous room. Hmmm, his room smells nice, I thought. I looked back at everyone and saw Kaminari touching everything, Sero poking bakugous face, and Kirishima and Mina both playing sticks with eachother.

“guys!” I whisper shouted, and in a instant they all stood in front of me while saluting, like they are in military school. “oh? i like this. but anyways, we’re here for one thing, and one thing only. and that is to ruin bakugous pretty face with sharpie.” I said, and they all nodded in response.

“yes ma’am, sir!” They said. then they all went where Bakugou was sleeping, and I followed with them, then I started drawing on his face. I started off with a unibrow, that made Sero and Kaminari giggle like little girls in preschool. Then I let Kirishima draw a mustache on him, but it looked like he was a pedo because of the style. Mine wanted it to be extra special and gave him a cat nose, whiskers, and drew little ears on his forehead. We were all laughing at this point, then we heard it.

Brumphhhhh

Bakugou falls off the bed, and wakes up in the process. We all just stand there, in either awe or disgust.

“holy shit.”

“he let it rip.”

“that shouldn’t be able to come out of someone’s, ya know.”

“g-guys- i think he’s awake.” Kaminari said, shaking in his boots. Bakugou starts getting up, with a red face. None of us know if he got up because he fell, his fart, or because of our talking. But boy, he looks mad. Or flustered.

“what thE HELL ARE YOU DUMBASSES DOING IN HERE?!?!” He yelled, his blanket falling off to reveal his..... Mickey Mouse shirt.

“the real question is.... why are you wearing a Micky Mouse shirt?” I said, pointing my finger to him, trying to hold back my snickers.

“You all have 3 seconds before I kill you all.” He said, breathing heavily.

“aw, shite,” I said, “well guys, I wish you luck and don’t die.” I said, waving them goodbye while sprinting out, but of course someone had to follow,

“hey hey hey,” Kaminari said, “i hope you don’t mind that I brought everyone else too.” I looked behind him and saw everyone else.

“GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE!!!”

“mommyyyyy!”

“can we just talk about how Y/n topped Bakugou—”

“i still want my $50!”

“or that he let out a fart so loud it woke up the giants from their million year nap?”

“i still need to tell my mom about that time I killed my goldfish and I blamed it on the dog!”

“since we’re making confessions, im gay!”

“we already know that,”

“wat—”

“guys, my arm is bleeding and I don’t know what to do or how it got there.”

“wait,”

“brooooooooo,”

“okay, I need to take a breather.” I said bending down and putting my hands on my knees to hold myself up. Everyone else does the same, until we remember what we were running from.

“YOU CANT GET AWAY FROM ME NOW!!”

“aHHHHHH,”

Hey y’all! Thank you for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed, and make sure you leave a comment and hopefully a note🤞 Hope you have a good day <3

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #x reader #bnha #oneshots #imagines #mha x reader #pranks #bnha izuku #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #x you #gender neutral #x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction

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katzirra · 3 years

Text

Waiting for the place to give me my file list from my hand drive recovery. Made an omelet with asparagus and bacon, and gave the boys a tiny bit for being good this morning and letting me sleep in past 8:06...

Hannibal woke me up with very loudly aggressively loving face rubs which is new, and has been demanding attention all morning by soft paw grabbing and holding my hand while cooking, also new. Usually he's very independent and wants nothing to do with us.

Still concerned with his audible breathing when he's SLIGHTLY distressed, for a cat with obvious anxiety, and when he's picked up or sitting/laying weird. It's very noticeable, and I'm wondering if it has to do with his nasal bridge being a tad flat.

Trying to manifest a good mood. I'm having a big existential crisis about being alive.

Which, I'll just throw that under a cut and pair it with an apology. 🤙✨

I feel like I have no purpose or meaning. Having a lot of those "why bother/what's the point" moments about a lot of things which...the depth of those feelings isn't just apathetic like most people experience? For me it's very much a red flag, so that's been fun. Usually it's doing something as simple as doing something nice for myself, thinking why bother, and having to ARGUE with myself why it matters. Like...having to validate EVERYTHING I do these days is exhausting. Honestly, it's been a low simmer scary JUST KEEP SWIMMING the last few months. But everything I feel is too much to talk to anyone about, and it doesn't HELP me to. It's me. It's my brain. It's scary and I don't like looking the beast directly in the face when people want me to open up. My demon, my problem, trust me when I say I'm trying and that I'm sincere when I say sorry I'm not all here or present.

I'm, like torn between wanting to message my friend first to talk about shit, but I'm also refusing because I was hurt and the comment about shit being too much to read just resonates in my brain yelling "you're not worth their time and effort, you dumb bitch!" because my brain has a FIELD day with that shit. Its.... Kicking a dead horse, repeating myself anyway probably. It hasn't seemed to stick after the last year of me apologizing monthly because I'm just a shit friend who is too busy working and trying to not kill myself. Suicide ideation is a thing, and it SUCKS when it's as invasive as it is for intruding thoughts. But I'll keep apologizing because I feel guilty for not being good enough. Present enough. Engaging enough. Because maybe that time it'll stick??

They'll probably be better off without me making them feel bad because I don't put in enough effort I guess? Which also just hurts because I know online I'm standoffish these days, so I put the extra effort into being a good host I thought and I hoped that mattered. I just feel like no matter what I'm doomed to disappoint them? So I don't mean they'd be better off in a dismissive way, it's a legit...way I think. Like I'm obviously causing distress, and yelling at me won't fix it because it makes me recoil emotionally. So maybe I'm just a bad friend in reality and it is what it is. I'm sorry so many people have fucked me up about inter personal relationships?? I don't know what to do this time because that stupid fight cut me very deep in core values in myself.

It...Fucked me up. And whether that's important to them or not, or whether it has an repercussive weight, whatever. We've both been hurt by people, and been there as much as we'd let eachother. I've tried to be crazy supportive in the last bout of shit they went through. Because I love a bitch, and they matter immensely to me, and I know I suffered alone through a LOT of things like that and know it sucks. I offered my home, attention and time any time I could give it.. Being told i don't give as much as them set weird on my heart in light of that. It hurt.

Idk...And maybe I'm just some dramatic bitch or whatever I guess. Doesn't matter. I matter, my feelings matter. I'm mentally ill and I fucking bust my ass to deal with it, AND be a loving and supportive fixture in people's lives. I suck, sure. But I'm ALWAYS there for people.

I mention I'm depressed or angry at life, sure, but the layers of distress aren't...on display? It's my shit to deal with, if I bring it up, it's for benefit of people knowing why I'm withdrawn usually. I don't talk about myself much anymore because everything is too much and I just start venting. And people don't care that deeply about how fucked up my head is. Or I over share too much. Or yeah, it's a lot to read and I start babbling because the cork is off and I HURT inside just being alive anymore. I don't feel like I'm living my life for me these days. I don't feel alive. I feel stagnant. I'm biding time for SOMETHING to happen??

Yet I'm constantly apologizing to people for not being able to do basic shit, that I'm upfront about being difficult for some dumb reason. I'm always having to explain myself to people. I am in this bubble so often of feeling like I was made wrong, a mistake, missing something important.

Or that I'm a bad person. I'm too open, too closed, withdrawn, outgoing - I can never seem to get the ratio right. And its the kind of discussion I feel leans into self pity and attention grabbing but it's...something I internally struggle with every week and keep to myself.

Oh Kat, get a psychiatrist - I dont know that it would help, honestly. I know 90% of my thoughts and fears are irrational, and pointless. But I know they have valid backing in trauma that I have mostly dealt with, and am unlearning. But I also know I see through people, can identify those markers, and understand outcomes way too easy and that ALSO makes people mad. So. What the fuck is a shrink gonna do for me? My depression is a background white noise to this stuff, and it's honestly just bullshit I deal with. I'm not keen on medication, I'm sure it would help quiet my brain, but I've been dealing with this shit almost 20 years now, ita just the added drama and bullshit from people that exacerbates the emotional brain rash, for lack of a better phrasing. My issues are all behavioral and some depression and anxiety in the mix that I manage.

For all I'm told people understand ahit wrong with me, it sure is something I repeatedly get bitched at over, honestly. And I partially get it, I also find it frustrating. But I've been battling depression since I was 12/13 and learning to stop thinking certain things only since 21, and that's the harder part. I'm not the person people think I am, I wish I was anymore. That bitch died in 2011/2012. That fissure in my foundation fucked me UP. The shaking I had one or two years ago, didn't help.

To be transparently honest the whole shitstorm two weeks ago really hit some raw nerves I'm trying to deal with, and not doing well. Because the more times that nerve is hit the more I don't feel like a valuable person and that I'm wasting people's time. But the reason I'm yelled at is that I am a valuable person, and they want more of my time in a way?? I don't know what people want from me.

Waves hand dismissively - they're being sweethearts by the back door for now.

I'm in a weird place emotionally and mentally. I don't feel alive. I don't feel real. I don't feel valid or... I don't know. Nothing I say or so actually matters in my own life or experiences. I can be an amazing person with communication and intention but it doesn't matter if the other person doesn't care, it's like arguing online.

You can have a valid discussion and someone can just say "you're a fucking moron, I'm not listening to this" and you can't do anything.

I just wasted two hours organizing my thoughts qnd emotions into a post that I'll delete in a week. What a great use of my time. I'm juat exhausted.

I turn 31 tomorrow and is rather be dead lmao. I'm so tired of the weight of being alive and aware of the world and people around me. About being considerate and kind to everyone and it's never god damn enough. I bleed myself dry emotionally for everyone and run my mental battery into the ground qnd it's never enough. It's never going to BE enough. I don't want mental.break downs and emotional roller-coasters. I want friends that understand I'm scatterbrained and severely damaged and abused and I'm TRYING. I'm sorry it's never good enough.

I'm so fucking tired these days. I just want to disappear. I want to have an actual breakdown and cry

I haven't actually cried in years. I.... Mm. I feel like.im a shell. I'm so tired. I'm trying AO hard to be a good person and functional and I'm just constantly having more dished and I'm just...what is my purpose qnd point these days. I can't even make people happy.

Tomorrow I'll turn 31. It'll be like any other day. 👍✨

#kat life #ignore me

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

home | thomas

word count; 15,944

summary; thomas is struggling to get over what happened, and he just needs a little help.

notes; this is just some cute stuff for my baby, because he needs it.

warning; PTSD, sad Tommy, he just needs a hug.

“Home, a place that I can go, to take this off my shoulders, someone take me home.”

Thomas was a known hero around paradise, he was greeted with smiles, thanks, hugs everywhere he went. Even all these many months later, the effect he had on people’s lives had never been forgotten, but he couldn’t forget the effect it had on him.

More nights than not, he awoke with sweat dripping across his forehead and screams tearing from his lips. For the first month, everyone had ignored it, subtle looks of pity being shot his way or comforting pats on the back being given. By the time month two had rolled around, he’d began feeling guilty, noting how tired those who lived around him were becoming, and still, no one said anything. He was grateful for them ignoring it, nobody pounding on his door in the middle of the night or shouting at him, but he could clearly see what he was doing.

So by month three, he’d moved himself a good mile away from everyone else. Built himself a new little hut near the shore and he screamed out his night terrors to his heart’s content, assuming they’d go away. By month five, Thomas had begun to fear he’d live with them forever, the images of Chuck dying, Minho being taken or Newt almost bleeding out, the pictures flashing behind his eyes every time he shut them. The boys had begun taking turns sleeping on the floor of his room, just to wake him up and comfort him when he started thrashing and shouting in his sleep. Newt had officially diagnosed him with PTSD, which hadn’t surprised him at all, he’d been musing with the idea for weeks, so to have someone else say it had been no shock at all.

By month seven, Thomas had grown tired of doing this to his friends, so he started laying awake at night, pretending to sleep until he’d convinced them he was okay, and they started coming less and less, and now, Thomas rarely slept. If he had a night terror, he’d run. He’d run for miles, until his lungs were burning and his legs aching, and then he’d turn around and drag himself back, before passing out for a few hours from exhaustion, before repeating the cycle.

Everyone around him was happy, the community was thriving as the year marker rolled by and people began to feel at ease. Thomas was glad they were now secure enough to start going out and finding new people, others who needed help, needed saving and a sanctuary, he really was, but the expansion only increased his fear.

Six months ago he’d safely been a good distance from anyone else, but now he could see other houses, with the rate their group was expanding, it wouldn’t be long before he was once again crowded, and once again keeping up the poor, innocent souls who had the misfortune of having to live around him. It had been a while since Thomas had actually joined the community, tending more to skirt around the edges, grab some food before everyone else in the morning and after everyone else at night, preferring his own sanctity. It wasn’t until late on a warmer evening that he finally saw his friend again, knowing it must’ve been at least a month since he’d spoken to anyone, a disapproving look on the blonde’s face as he entered the small stick hut, crates laying around with all of Thomas’ things in.

“I brought you some dinner, can’t bloody remember the last time I saw you eat a decent meal since WCKD, so here you go.” As if to punctuate his friend’s thoughts, Thomas’ stomach grumbled loudly at the sight and smell of the food, and the runner grabbed it, shooting his friend a grateful smile as he sat on his bed to eat it. “Not going to unpack, mate? You’ve lived here for a while now. Awful hard living out of boxes, don’t you think?” Newt wandered through the one-room cabin, picking up and putting down various items from boxes as Thomas chewed and watched him go.

“I did unpack. This is repacking.” His words were muffled around bites of food, crumbs spraying from his mouth and Newts eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at his friend, hands on his hips intimidatingly.

“Repacking, eh? And where is it you’re going this time? Another mile from your friends? Two? Do you know how bloody hard it is to walk on this limp? Now that I’m not running for my life I quite like to keep off it, bloody painful it is, and trekking up here to see your sorry ass isn’t the highlight of my month, you know?” The speech left Thomas frozen, mid-chew, as he stared at his friend wide-eyed, wondering where the sudden outburst came from. Newt ran a hand over his face, but didn’t apologise, however, he let go of the breath he was holding and his eyes met Thomas’ with a gentler look in them. “Look, mate, I know it’s hard. You don’t think it was hard for me? For Minho? For any of the newbies coming in? But we’re only going to keep saving lives, keep expanding, and you can’t run away forever. We all need you, we need you back, not this shell of you that goes on runs in the middle of the night to wear himself out, or the one that locks himself away from us all and sneaks about to eat and shower. I want my friend back, Tommy.”

The words cracked Thomas’ heart, because he wanted nothing more than to do just that, be that person for all of them and himself, but he’d given it time, and he’d tried his best, and no matter what, he just couldn’t. “I-I want that Newt, but I don’t know how to be me anymore. I-I’m just this broken hollow thing left over from what happened.” Tears lined his eyes and he pushed the tray from his lap, gaze directed to the floor and he palmed at his eyes roughly, willing the water back.

Crouching before the broken boy, Newt pulled his hands from his eyes until their gazes met, a soft smile on his lips. “I know, but there’s someone I’d like for you to meet. She’s been here a while now, and I think she’s been pretty desperate to meet you. She told me to give you her thanks, turns out one of those younger kids you saved in the last city was her little brother, the only family she had left, you should’ve seen the tears in that boy’s eyes when we brought her off the boat a few months back, would’ve made your day, Tommy.”

He let a small smile flick at his lips at the thought, a soft cooing leaving his lips as a warmth filled his chest at the idea of reuniting a family.

“Told her she had to wait, though, had to tell you herself because you’d come out of this hut one day. She’s helped a lot of us, Tommy, she even helped Gally. I’ve never seen the boy laugh but let me tell you, he cracks up when he’s around her. She brings everyone together, she makes this place feel like home.”

He mulled over the thought, knowing he’d have to leave sometime, and knowing the least he could do was give his friend this chance. He had no hope of it working, but he could do the very minimum and try, because he owed them all at least that. “Okay.”

“Okay? Well, Tommy, you’ve just made my day. We can talk more about it soon, yeah? You need some rest.” With that, his friend clapped him on the shoulder and stood, ruffling his hair before making his way on unsteady feet back to the main village, a slight pep in his walk as he left.

To say Thomas felt overwhelmed by the noise would be putting it lightly. He hadn’t been around so many people in almost a year, and he knew all eyes were on him. People were already coming up to him and greeting him, hugs and handshakes were given as he walked quickly through the crowds to get his breakfast. People were shocked to see him, probably thinking he’d just disappeared, but nothing could replace the look on Minho’s face as he spotted them at the table, the Asian boy’s jaw dropping as his fist hit the table, startling everyone else and shaking water cups.

The scene brought a genuine smile to Thomas’ lips, for a split second, before all eyes turned to him and anxiety once again overtook him and he froze in his tracks a few metres from the table. “Thomas? You’re.. here! Like, at breakfast with us!” Gally had been the last person he’d expected to speak, but he shuffled down on the wooden bench, a large space opening between him and Brenda as his lips twisted up in a hint of a smile, his eyebrows raised in an offer to the seat, and surprising himself, his feet carried him forward to sit in it.

It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected, he felt comfortable to be back with his friends, welcome and warm, and most of all, he felt loved. “Not getting any food, Thomas?” Brenda nudged him and he bit his lip, shaking his head as he looked over to the queue of people, all bustling and lining up to get fed, his heart racing uncontrollably at the mere thought.

“Leave him be, he’s made a massive step just coming down here. We’re proud of you, mate. Missed seeing you at the table.” Newt reassured him he was still welcome, Brenda backing off as everyone dug into the food on their plates, his eyes finding the table as he picked at a loose piece of wood. It wasn’t until a soft voice, a voice he didn’t recognise broke his thoughts that he glanced up, eyes widening at the sight of the girl before him as her gaze was focused on Newt.

Waves of hair sat around her shoulders, eyes practically sparkling as a younger boy stood behind her listening intently to Minho as he chatted, arms waving excitedly and the boy’s fingers were gripping his plate with such enthusiasm Thomas thought it might snap. His gaze rose to the girl once again, her eyes now on his and his breath hitched in his throat, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away this time. Her face held nothing but compassion, and she didn’t look at him with pity like everyone else did, or admiration, she wasn’t putting him on some podium and she wasn’t mentally coddling him like a child, she was simply smiling at him with care, and he decided he quite liked the way she looked at him.

Placing a plate down on the table, she pushed it across the table towards him, steam still rising from the fresh food and cutlery quickly followed, his eyes barely leaving hers to glance down at the meal before looking up to her once again. Her gaze was gone, however, her fingers ruffling Newt’s hair as she left, apple clutched in one hand as the young boy bid his farewells to everyone, following after her quickly. The smell of the food was getting to him and he picked up his knife and fork, glancing at the food wearily before tucking in.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Brenda muttered in his ear, and his sights met hers, mouth full but he nodded quickly, before stuffing more food into his mouth, body ecstatic to finally have such a good meal.

“Didn’t think we’d see you so soon, Tommy, I was gonna’ come talk to you about getting started in a week or so.” Newt began, and the boy reached for a glass of water, swigging half the glass before replying.

“I felt like we should start now. It’s been a year, I owe you that, at least.” He confessed, the blonde’s eyes crinkling at the middle, but Minho spoke up before Newt could.

“You don’t owe us anything. You saved all our lives, on multiple occasions. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all still be running around the maze like headless chickens. We do it because you’re our friend and we care, not because you have any kind of debt to us.” The table was silent for a second, and all eyes on Minho. “Shut up and eat your food, shanks.”

“And there he is. Worried you were going soft for a second there, Min.” Newt teased, laughs echoing around the table and for perhaps the fourth time today, Thomas smiled. He was sure his cheeks were going to start aching if he kept it up, but he wouldn’t mind, because this is what it felt like to be cared about, to be loved. He felt safe with his friends, he enjoyed the sensation, but he couldn't quite help but feel like something was missing.

Exhausted would be an understatement, if one were to describe Thomas. He’d stayed awake the entire night just to be awake at breakfast time, and to fight off any terrors or nightmares that may have arisen. By the time the sun was setting, he was anxiously sitting on his bed. Everything in his body was telling him to get up, to go for a rumour to do a workout, to do something to get him so tired that his body was quite literally too fatigued to possibly consider giving him any kind of horrifying experience while he was asleep. He was, however, suppressing that urge, for his friends, because the way he had felt today was better than he could ever remember feeling, and that was saying something.

His fingers pulled at the edges of the blanket sitting below him, real pyjamas adorning his body for the first time in what felt like forever, instead of just collapsing in whatever sweaty gear he’d run in and changing in the morning, and his eyes flicked over all the re-packed boxes sitting around him. He wanted to unpack them, he really did, but he just didn’t see this thing with this miracle girl Newt had mentioned ever working out. He was truly glad she made his friends so happy, and she seemed to be the epitome of sunshine form the small glance he had caught of her at breakfast, but he didn’t see himself being able to conquer this problem, so why should he take everything back out of boxes if it was only all going to end up in boxes again in a few months. It really didn't seem logical to him.

He continued to look around desperately, for anything he could spend the night doing while the dark hours passed in order to avoid having to face sleeping, but he was torn quickly from his searching when soft rapping on his door sounded out, and he swallowed thickly. Nobody but Newt or one of the other boys ever came out here, and they always just let themselves in.

With slow and cautious steps, he made his way over, slowly opening the door before him and peering around it carefully, his eyes widening as he looked at you. Your hair was blowing in the wind gently, a cardigan hugged tightly around your body, and until he’d interrupted you, you’d been staring off at the sun setting over the calm waves. When you looked at him, he felt that same feeling come charging back. You were smiling, somewhat nervously yourself, and he brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, opening the door slightly wider, just enough to wedge his body into the gap so he could talk to you.

“Hey, Thomas. I’m (Y/N).” He looked at you for a second, before nodding, choking down the lump in his throat as he held his hand out to you, nodding in a simple and silent greeting but your smile only widened at the act and you slipped your hand into his. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your friends have told me a lot about you.”

His heart sunk, yet another person who wanted to ask him about WCKD, ask him all about the things he did or tell him just how brave they thought he was fo-

“Gally says you kicked his legs out from under him once. That’s pretty badass, he’s pretty large. I don’t think I could manage that.” He couldn't stop the laugh that broke free, he had never expected that to be the reputation of him that impressed someone, and he’d lost that memory under all the trauma, but pride and humour flooded his veins as you dug it back up for him so casually.

“I’ll be honest, it really hurt my leg. The boy is heavy and solid muscle, I think I hit him right on the bone, I had a nasty bruise on my leg the next morning.” He grinned, and your own laughter drifted around in space the two of you stood in, a blush rising to his cheeks at just how pretty you looked while smiling, and he ducked his head to cover it, clearing his throat slightly and getting his feelings under control before looking back up to you. “What.. um, what are you doing here?”

His face scrunched up on himself as he realised how rude that had sounded, but you didn’t seem to mind, and you shrugged slightly, your eyes finding his again. “I just thought maybe we could chat. I know Newt talked to you, he seems to think I’m some kind of happiness charm.” Thomas let his lips flick up in a smile, Newt wasn’t exactly wrong. He already felt happier and all he’d done was open the door. Looking back down at the empty path, his eyebrows rose.

“You walked a mile up here for a chat?”

“I got to watch the sunset as I walked, it flew by. Besides, I have a feeling you’re worth the walk.” You promised, and that heat rose to his cheeks once again, his bottom lip clamping between his teeth as he thought about it. His fingers tightened around the edge of the door, holding it shut, your gaze left his for just a moment to flick up to his white-knuckled grip on the wood, before coming back down to his.

“We don’t have to, I just thought it’d be nice. But if you do, we don’t have to do it inside. Your home is a private place, we could go for a walk or sit on the beach instead, if you wanted. It’s all up to you.” The calmness in your voice was nothing like the was his own shook when he talked, your tone was smooth and relaxed and his own jumped between pitches and frequency each time his anxiety spiked, and he would often just cut himself off mid-sentence altogether and just give up.

“No, no, it’s okay. You can- you can come in.” He waited for a second, looking at you before slowly opening the door, stepping out of your way as you took a tentative step over the threshold. You walked past him, and suddenly the house that had been perfectly fine to him moments ago seemed embarrassing now. He had boxes stacked high everywhere, overflowing with clothes and things he’d been given, most never touched or used, and the counters lay practically empty, save for the few things he was using regularly, and as he shut the door behind you he fumbled for a way to explain it all. “I-I don’t talk much, and I don’t get many visitors. I-I’m really sorry.”

His arms gesturing about the small spaces as he looked down at the floor, his hands falling to sit limply by his side and your own reached up, sitting on his forearm gently and you squeezed, just enough to comfort him before taking your touch away, and his fingers twitched at the loss. “I think you’re doing great.” Your simple statement made him feel infinitely better, and he let himself smile, still not bold enough to meet your eyes again as you took in the small place he lived. “You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’? Good choice.”

When his head snapped up, jaw open, you were running your fingers over the cover of the book that was sitting out, and he nodded shyly, your body finally turning to face him fully. “Y-You’ve read it?”

“Several times, actually. I took up home in a library for a while, once. Lived there for about a year. I must’ve read every book on those shelves.” You hummed, and his head tipped to the side. “‘Pride and Prejudice’ was one of my favourites. If you’re liking it, I could have a little look around and find you some other books that you might enjoy, if you’d like?” His head dipped in an eager confirmation as he nodded, enough confidence filling him to take quick strides across his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to do the same, and you thanked him as you settled yourself comfortably onto the mattress.

The moment you had asked him about the book, his mouth had opened and he hadn’t been able to stop the words from flowing. He surprised even himself about how chatty he was being, and you replied to him just as enthusiastically. After that, the topics had changed, he’s spilled anything from basic facts like his favourite colour to more stories from the glade that he thought you would find funny, his heart skipping a beat every time he heard you laugh.

The two of you had started by sitting at separate ends of the bed to talk, and you had shifted regularly, the both of you nose sitting amongst the pillows with your backs pressed to the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles as they stretched out before you and he was chuckling amicably at himself as he showed you the sketches from his notebook. As he reached the last page, he smoothed his fingers over his most recent drawing, which was just a simple sketch of the mountainscape he could see from his bedroom window.

You ran your gaze over it, your lips parted as you looked at it, and he studied you carefully as you studied his art, and he decided, one day he’d rather like to draw you, if you’d ever let him. “This one is my favourite.”

“It is?” He mumbled, snapping his gaze away from you when you looked up from the paper pad to him, and you hummed in acknowledgement, your legs carrying you over to the window to peek out at the scene, holding his book up before your face and comparing them.

“It’s so good, I’m so impressed! This is.. amazing!” You turned back to him, and he took the book from you, his teeth flashing to you in a grin, and you stood before him, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed to face you as a comfortable silence took over the room. “I should probably get going now.”

The frown he was so used to wearing, made its first appearance in your presence as he looked at you, and his chest tightened slightly. “You’re going already?”

You giggled at his statement, his brows furrowing as you checked the watch sitting on your wrist. “Tommy- can I call you Tommy?” He licked over his lips, nodding at your words and you lit up at the confirmation, your happiness lifting his spirits back up slightly. “Tommy, you know it’s been almost four hours since I got here, right?” His eyes widened, flicking over to the window to see just how dark it had gotten. Thomas did not know it had been four hours, in fact, it felt like barely any time at all had passed, and his mouth was dry as he was at a loss for words. “We’ll hang out again soon, okay?”

“I think I would like that.” He whispered, and you held your hand out, rubbing his shoulder slightly as a goodbye, before pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. He watched you walk toward the door, and without a second thought, he tore out the final page of his notebook, standing and holding it out to you when the noise had caught your attention. “I want you to have this. This drawing. As a thank you.”

“A thank you?” Your words were spoken as a question and a bashful smile too over his face, his hands fiddling and twitching in front of him as you took the paper from him.

“I laughed more tonight than have in at least a year. Thank you for making me feel like my old self for a while.” You looked at him carefully, the room growing tense as you stared into his eyes, and he felt like you were reading his soul just from the tender look you gave him. With quite possibly the softest smile Thomas thinks he’d ever seen, your head tipped to the side.

“I didn’t bring out the old you. Who you were tonight, that’s who you always are, you just need a little encouragement to let that side of you show.” He wasn’t too sure what to say, and you chuckled, leaning up and pressing your lips to his cheek softly. “Goodnight, Tommy. Thank you for my drawing, I love it.”

Before he could respond, you had gone from the door, leaving the wood in his grasp as he watched you set off in a crisp walk into the darkness, back toward the hut you lived in, in a colony with everybody else. Raising his fingers to brush his cheek, he found dimples there, the revelation that he was smiling, widely, crashing over him and he couldn't help it, backing away and closing the door.

That night, when he laid his head down on his pillows, Thomas could still faintly smell you around him and on the blankets, and he didn’t think about the fear of going to sleep as he drifted off that night. Instead, he thought about how proud Newt would be of him, and how he couldn't wait to spend more time with you if this is the feeling he got afterwards.

The heat of the next day woke Thomas, the light filtering through the window on the opposite side of the room, and he groaned, wiping at his eyes, still unaccustomed to waking up while it was light. His body was sore and achy from the tense fits of fear he’d had, but his throat didn’t sting from as much screaming, and he was more well-rested than he had been in a long time. The nightmare haunted him, but going to bed happy seemed to ease the pain, and he couldn't help but lie in his bed happily as he let himself adjust to the morning.

When he eventually made his way down to the table, most of his friends had already arrived, but unlike yesterday, they had chosen a bigger table, and he had more choice of where he would like to sit. Newt was chatting to Sonya, the two of them deep in a conversation, and Gally was arm-wrestling Brenda across the table as Minho refereed the interaction. Slotting himself beside his blond friend, he was greeted happily, his hair being ruffled and despite the scowl that came to his face, Thomas laughed gently at the action.

“Two days in a row, look at you go, mate. Here, you can have some of my food.” Newt could sense that he was still too timid to go up into the queue for food, and Thomas appreciated the gesture, and as he looked at the plate, he realised his British friend must’ve already anticipated hs actions, because exactly half of everything had been eaten, scraped neatly to one side of the plate as the knife and fork sat beside it and he shook his head fondly at the way the boy cared for him.

The sudden squealing in a youthful voice of Minho’s name came as a young boy came sprinting toward the table at high speeds. The kid could only be eight or nine, and his eyes widened as he watched the boy turf down the side of the hill at high speeds, and Minho struggled to free his legs from the bench as he stood up to greet him, sweeping the boy up into his arms in a hug. Raising his brows at the interaction, Minho’s brows raised as the boy grinned happily, squealing and twisting in the ex-runners arms as Minho tickled his sides before letting him down. “Guess what, Minho!”

“What is it?” Taking a seat again to continue his food, Thomas shovelled his own meal into his mouth as he watched on curiously, and the kid hopped up on the bench beside the dark-haired runner, straddling it with one leg dangling either side of the wood.

“(Y/N) said I can spend the whole day with you until she gets back, if it’s okay with you!” Thomas almost choked on his food at the mention of your name, and as if on queue, you followed after the boy, cheeks flushed as you jogged up behind him, panting from the sudden exertion.

“Oh, she did, did she? Well, what do you want to do then?” He tuned out of their conversation as he watched you slow to a casual walk, your eyes moving over everyone on the table as you greeted them happily, before your eyes landed on his, and you picked up a slight pep in your step as you walked towards him with purpose. He froze, swallowing the mouthful of food he had loudly and awkwardly, wincing at the feeling and how it must’ve appeared, but you didn’t seem to care as you stood before him, and he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Guess what we’re doing today.”

“W-We’re doing something?” He cursed himself inwardly for just how awkward he had sounded while saying that, but you breezed over it, nodding enthusiastically as you rolled on the balls of your feet. “Well, what are we doing?”

“That’s a surprise. Just wait here, and I’ll be right back, okay?” He had barely given you a sign of acknowledgement before you were leaving the table, heading towards Frypan serving food in the kitchens and he watched you leave with raised brows.

“Should be fun, hanging out with (Y/N) is always fun, so your first time will be a blast!” Brenda’s hand clapped down on his shoulder, shocking him slightly from his gaze and he looked away from you, turning to look at his food as he pushed the last few bites up onto the fork.

“Not out first time hanging out. We hung out yesterday.” It seemed to be a collective shock, and Thomas avoided the looks his friends were sharing as he rolled his eyes at the plate before him. “We just talked for a while. It was nice. She makes me laugh.”

“You deserve to laugh, it’s good!” Gally assured, and Thomas wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this side of the builder, but he did really like not fighting with him all the time. He shot up a grateful look of acknowledgement, not bothering to reply as you neared the table one again, sealing up your backpack and swinging it back up onto your shoulders.

With another squeeze on his shoulders, he was encouraged to his feet by his friends when you asked is he was ready to go, and he congratulated himself when he made it to your side without stumbling over his own feet. Normally, he spent the day reading, or drawing, or doing a workout inside after eating, and it was normally night. Now, he was avoiding the looks he was being given by everyone around him, none bad, but they were simply surprised to see him up and about and interacting.

You had already struck up a conversation, and as you began to deviate from the well-worn ground of the camp to lesser trekked passages into the wildlife, his eyebrows rose, and he turned to look at you curiously. It was only another minute or two before he realised the route you were taking, he would recognise this scenery any day, and casting his gaze out, he realised you’d already begun to gain some height, the roof of his own cabin being revealed to him in the near distance, and he could see through the window.

“You’re taking me up the mountain I drew.” He whispered, and your smiling face turned or him, nodding happily as he caught on and he couldn't stop the enthusiasm that began to rush through him.

“If you think it looks beautiful from the bottom, wait until I show you the view from the first ridge, that’s where we’re stopping for lunch.” He laughed lightly at your words, looking out ahead of him as the two of you slowly began to disappear into the beautiful surroundings, the camp disappearing away below him with every step until it was a mere spec down on the beachfront.

They seemed to go for hours, and though Thomas was used to physical exertion, he was more used to quick bursts of running, and on flat ground, the rocky passes of the hills and the long-distance trekking had him sweating as the soon got higher in the sky and the day moved on, bringing higher temperatures with it. He was sweating, a thin layer coating his brow and his pants mixed with yours in the warm air as the two of you continued your journey.

He was almost grateful when the two of you finally came to a stop, but he was breathless in an entirely different way as you finally stopped moving. You trekked forward into the space and Thomas could barely move for the sheer beauty of it. He could see from one end of the large island to another. He could see right down over the miles and miles of treetops they had walked through, birds and animals flying and leaping between them, the shade of the trees around him were giving him enough shade from the sun above that he didn’t need to squint as he looked out at the wildlife, the beach seeming so far away as everything suddenly fell into perspective, and he had a sneaking feeling you’d done it on purpose.

Everything felt so large up here, and he felt small. He felt reassured. Unless you knew your way up here, you’d never find it. Not even his friends would be able to find him up here, never mind WCKD or anybody that would want to hurt him again, and there was nothing for the miles and miles that the glittering sea stretched out toward the horizon.

The area they were standing on was beautiful. It wasn’t quite the top of the mountain, another mile or so winding up steeper pathways would need to be done to reach the summit, but you had brought him to the best-shaded area, a spot you clearly came to often as you confidently walked toward a spot, dropping your bag from your shoulders and leaning it against the trunk of a tree.

You pulled a blanket from inside, laying it out on the grass, and laying out the wrapped pieces of food you had brought. He was stuck, fascinated as he looked out at the stunning view you had shown him. You never rushed him once, letting him take his time, just looking out and coming to terms with the place he lived, and the thing she was seeing around him. When he was finally ready to sit down, he made his way over to you, your eyes closed as you lay out on the blanket, your shoes toed off as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You cracked a single eye open to look at him as he followed suit, leaning himself back against the trunk of the tree, kicking his shoes off of aching feet with a happy sigh. “Not that I’m complaining, this is incredible. It just seems.. almost.. personal, I guess.”

“You gave me a gift, something personal of yours, that you shared with me. I wanted to share something with you, that nobody else knows about.”

He glanced down at you, your eyes closed again and you missed the small smile he gave you as he took in your relaxed state. “You’ve never brought anybody else up here before?” You shook your head, never looking at him, as though it was the most casual thing in the world. “So, why me?”

“You’re special, Tommy.” You didn’t give him any further explanation, but he blushed at your words, and he tried to hide his red face as you sat up, opening up the wrapped food you brought with you, before handing a sandwich to him, his mouth watering as he looked at the food. “Frypan said chicken sandwiches were your favourite, so I got you that one.”

He had already taken a large bite of the food when he nodded enthusiastically, cheeks full as he tried to speak his ‘thank you’ around his food, his mouth full and words muffled, but the giggle you let out told him you’d heard him just fine, as you opened your own food and dug in. You had also pushed an apple and a piece of cake over to him, a bottle of water sitting between the two of you as you ate in silence, looking out over the place you called home, the squawking seagulls happily filling the empty space for sound.

You had even been quiet when you had finished eating, as you lay back down, his arm was propped under his head, his eyes staring up at the sunlight that was flittering through the gaps in the canopy of the tree above you both. Your own head was resting on his elbow, your hair brushing against his cheek each time you moved, and for the first time in a long time, he felt content.

“I never got to thank you, Thomas.” You eventually mumbled, and he turned his head to the side, his nose bumping against your temple from your close proximity, and he huffed lightly, his breath blowing across your face, before he redirected his gaze to the leaves above his head. “I know you were looking for Minho, and I know finding my brother and all those other kids was just circumstances, but you saved him, and you brought him back to me. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life alone in a library, and now, I have friends, and a family.”

“He seems very close with Minho?” Thomas eventually responded, and you let out a laugh, a sound of agreement leaving you.

“He said Minho would look after him when they were locked up. Minho’s cell was the one across the way from his. He said Min used to pull funny faces through the glass for him, and would always tell him it would be okay when the lot of them were rounded up for tests. Minho was the older sibling he had when I couldn't be there for him, I guess.” You chuckled sadly at the end of your sentence, the quiet fading back in around your both. “This is where I like to come to think, and that's why when I saw your drawing of this mountain, it was my favourite.”

“I’m really happy you brought me here. It’s incredible, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see anywhere this beautiful, or have enough time to stop and enjoy it.”

“Well, there’s a lot of other places I can show you, if you’d like to see some more?” You offered, sitting up and pulling your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, his hand twitching by his side with the wish to reach out, and so he did, his fingertips trailing along your arm slowly from where he lay, your head twisting to look at him over your shoulder, a soft smile on your face.

“I would like you to show me everything there is in life, I think I’m ready to start living it.”

He was desperate to get back out there and do something with you. His friends had already commented on his change in mood, when Thomas had started joining in with the conversations at the table. He didn’t speak much, but he added his opinion, and he laughed at jokes. He was confident enough to lift his head and actually look at the people sitting around him, instead of trying to make himself as small as possible.

For the first time in a long time, Thomas didn’t mind being seen by the people around him.

Each day when he woke up, he found himself looking up at the peak of the mountain he could see, remembering the view he’d been given, and how different things could look from different perspectives. Today, was different, though. He was practically buzzing with excitement from the second your little brother had been seen zooming between the tables to find his older friend, his arms wrapping around Minho’s neck from behind in a hug, and he knew any minute now, you would be making your appearance.

He was shocked at his own eagerness. This time two weeks ago, the only space that felt comfortable was his own bedroom, and now, he was starting to get antsy if he didn’t expand further than his own hut to the kitchens and back. He wanted to explore, he wanted to see more, do more, be more.

His thrill was bubbling over as he watched you calmly making your way toward the group, your bag sealed on your back again as you braised your hair behind your back as you walked, your eyes catching Thomas’ in a wink, his teeth flashed to you as he smiled. He didn’t need any encouragement from his friends this time, he was on his feet on his own, meeting you halfway up the path, and he didn’t care about all the eyes of his friends on his back as he met you, and he didn’t bother hiding the pep in his step.

“Hi, Tommy. You’re bright today?”

“Hm, and you’re like sunshine. Are we doing something today?” He pressed, a laugh falling from your lips at his urgency, his hands gripping yours desperately as you hummed, pretending to think it over as he whined impatiently, and eventually you caved and laughed.

“Yes, we are. Do you not like just hanging around the camp? A little too boring for you?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You promised to show me everything there is in life, and so far, all I’ve seen is the camp.” He huffed, jokingly, and you beamed.

“There’s a lot more to life than sights, Tommy. I’m going to show you everything, in time.” He whined again at your response. “You have a whole life to enjoy everything now, Tommy, nothing is a rush anymore. Let me show you how to take things slow.” His jaw hung open, and you pushed a finger under his chin to close it. “Why don’t you go and pack us a lunch, and I’ll meet you in a minute?”

With a nod, Thomas had bolted off, watching as you made your way over to your little brother, your words from the summit echoing in his mind as he watched you kiss the top of the boys head, thanking Minho for caring for him for another day. Frypan helped him, a grin on the boy’s lips as he looked between Thomas and you, but he didn’t care about his heated cheeks now, and he thanked his friend for the food, and the subtle extra rations he’s packed for you both. Clutching the food in his hands, you were weaving between the tables.

With an open bag, you let him stuff all the food in, before sealing it carefully. Before you had lifted it up, he had taken it from you, slinging it up onto his own shoulders and adjusting it on his back. “You carried it last time, it’s only fair I carry it this time.” He shrugged off the act, letting you lead the way as you headed off on your next journey.

This time, you had spent a few hours walking through the thick forestry of the island. It was a whole different kind of incredible, the from the flowers that littered the ground in fields and meadows to the animals he caught sight of as they went along, and you would point them out, telling them the names and little fun facts you’d learnt about them from all the reading you had done during your alone time in the scorch.

When you reached your final destination, however, he was torn for a favourite between this one and your last one. The pool of blue water before him looked so tempting that he just wanted to dive in headfirst, ripples spreading out across the surface from the waterfall that was crashing loudly from so far above, water spraying up as the sun trickled through the tree canopy in certain spots, lighting up the whole area with a certain transcendental glow.

You looked around the area, settling on a spot to set up camp as you took his hand gently, pulling him over to the shaded spot, and he placed the bag down, leaning it against the tree. He could feel the cool air coming from the force of the water cascading down from above, but it wasn’t quite close enough for the spray to get onto the bag, and he knew it was the perfect place to sit.

You didn’t sit, however. This time, when you toed off your shoes, your socks followed, being tucked into the sneakers you had discarded. “I’m gonna’ swim.” Before he had a chance to question it, you were tugging your shirt up and over your head, the shorts you were wearing soon dropping to the floor to join your pile of clothing and he averted his gaze, heat travelling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. The sound of your feet moving away from him sounded out, and you were trailing up the edge of a rock, not too high, but enough to jump into a deeper section of the pool as you looked over carefully.

“Wait!” He had called out to you before he could stop himself, and you turned to look at him, wobbling on the edge of the rock as he stopped you a split second before you jumped, and he was pulling his own top over his head, struggling to stop himself down to his boxers in a hurry as his forgotten clothes mixed with yours in a heap on the grass, his feet carrying him across the warm stone to stand beside you. “I want to swim too.”

His words were mumbled shyly, sure he just made a fool of himself in a bid to get his clothes off, but you smiled at him, your hand held out to him, and he took it tightly. You offered him a count of three, and he took it, his nerves crawling back as he remembered the last time he had jumped into water, his eyes on the pool below changing as images of the deep and freezing water of the last city flashed in his memory. With a deep breath, he pushed down the fear, your hand only tightening around his as he pushed off from the rock, falling for only a second, before he was plunging into the water below.

Everything about this experience was different, and he loved it.

The water didn’t stab at him, a thousand tiny needles as the freezing temperature swept over him, but instead it was warm, like being wrapped in a blanket, and your hand in his reassured him, his legs kicking to drag himself up to the surface. He emerged just a second before you did, gasping for breath and using his free hand to smooth back the hair that was sticking to his forehead, pushing it back and away in messy styles up his head as you emerged from below.

You were laughing, water trickling down your skin as you wiped the water from your eyes, kicking your legs beside his to stay afloat, and your touch never left his, your joint hands floating on the surface of the water between the two of you. You twisted, rolling onto your back and bobbing on the surface of the water, limbs spread out like a starfish, and he followed suit, the two of you floating in the pool with the ripples, the sound of rushing water being the only sound to fill the air.

“This is nice.”

“Just nice?” You questioned, your gaze finding his as you tugged on his arm, angling the two of you better until you were floating side by side, your shoulder and the length of his arm brushing against yours.

“No. It’s surreal.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths and rolling his lower lip between his teeth as he thought about his words. “I don’t feel like I’m really here. I feel like.. like I’m going to wake up at some point, in some WCKD lab being tested on. That none of this is real. That you’re not real.” His words trailed off in a whisper and you were quiet beside him for a moment, and he panicked, trying to backtrack out of the conversation when he felt the water beside him stir.

You were stood up, your feet only just reaching the bottom as you stood, the water lapping around your upper ribs and you pulled him toward you, guiding him into the same position. Your hand left his, trailing up his arm, as your other hand copied, until both your hands were cupping his cheeks. His lip trembled as you held him with nothing but pure adoration and compassion, tears lining his eyes.

“I miss Chuck, and Winston. I miss my friends, and I can always see their faces in my mind but I’m starting to forget what their voices sound like.” His voice cracked toward the end of his sentence, a hot tear leaking from his eye and you were quick to wipe it away with your thumb.

“It’s okay to cry here. It's okay to cry with me.” You assured him, and he felt the lump in his throat building. The moment the first tear had fallen, more were following, and soon his chest was heaving up and down as he struggled to breathe, loud sobs falling from his lips as his eyes closed. His hands found your hips, and you let him pull you closer until his forehead was resting against yours, your hands holding him as he shook, and spilled everything that was bringing him pain.

He told you every single name of everybody who he had met and lost along the way, having memorised each face and name. He sobbed about his fears, and how he tried his best but it just didn’t seem like enough and how he would’ve done things differently had he a second chance. By the time he’d finished spilling his heart out to you, his face was buried into your neck as he tried to calm his whimpers, and his arms were wrapped so tightly around your waist, your chest pressed so tightly to his that water no longer moved between you as two separate beings, but as one, around you both.

Your fingers were running through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you shushed him softly. Despite the sadness that had come over him, he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, like suddenly it was taken from his shoulders. He’s confessed his deepest, darkest worries and thought and now they were out in the open he felt like light was beginning to fill those crevices. He felt like he could breathe again.

Walking him backwards gently, he let you move his body, his face adjusting on your shoulder until his nose was nuzzling against bare skin, because for this moment, while you held him as tightly as he was holding you, he didn’t feel the stress of the world, or the pressure of being the boy who took down WCKD, or even of the greenie that killed a griever. When you held him, he just felt like Thomas, and he wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.

The water moved further and further down his body the further you moved him, until it was barely lapping his toes, and the soles of his feet were moving against warm and dry rock. Your hands slipped to his cheeks, pulling his face back until he was looking at you and you wiped your fingers under his eyes carefully, clearing away any last tears. Dropping from his sight, you tugged him down, water running from both of your bodies and back to the pool as you laid out on the warm stone.

His legs buckled under him from the exhaustion of his emotions and he laid down gently beside you, his head tilting to the side as he looked at you, licking over his lips as he tried to build up the courage to ask the question he so wanted to ask. It took him a minute, and a lot of false starts, but you waited patiently, and he smiled lightly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Will you please hold me?”

When he opened them again, you had rolled onto your back, your arms held out for him as you wiggled your fingers and he shuffled forwards, his cheek resting on your shoulder as your arms closed around him. One of his arms slung across your waist, the other resting above his head as he ran his fingers through your hair, the same way yours were doing to him, and he toyed with the loose strands that had slipped free from your braid.

Your eyes had fluttered closed, but your hold remained on him, leaving soft and reassuring touches on his skin occasionally. He had the bravery to let his own eyes close, and though sleep never came, he wasn’t scared of his own mind for once, because Thomas quickly realised that the feel of your arms around him grounded him more than anything ever had, and you would be there to help him, no matter what flashed in his mind.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he finally felt better, your hair had dried and there were no longer trails or water on the rocks, but his stomach was growling, and the sun had moved far from the place it had held overhead, and was instead, was heading towards the horizon as the colours in the sky changes into pastel shades.

You had a layer of goosebumps on your skin from the air becoming cooler, and he shifted, your eyes cracking open to watch him as he stretched out, spreading himself out like a starfish on the rock. You eased yourself up onto your feet, pulling your braid loose and shaking it free, your hair falling in ripples down your back. You held your hands out to him, and he whines as he took them.

“Can’t we just stay here forever? I like it here.” You pulled him to his feet, laughing as he spoke, and you shook your head, making your way over to your clothes and picking through the pile to find yours.

“There’s a lot more to see yet, a lot more to do, a lot more to experience. We can’t do it all here.” He grumbled under his breath, tugging his own clothes on, and grabbing the bag, rooting through it for his long-forgotten lunch. He handed your’s to you too, and the two of you stood under the trees, enjoying your lunch and chatting aimlessly as you ate, enjoying the last of the sights before you were ready to head back.

When that time eventually came, the sun was sinking low, a golden hue cast over everything and making it seem entirely different than it had in the regular light. As you began the walk back, he’s been bold enough to skin his fingers down the inside of your arm to hold your hand, and you’d laced your fingers with his instead, your shoulders bumping and brushing as your fingers remained intertwined for the whole journey.

He was happy to be home after a long day, but the closer the two of you got to the camp, the more his stomach began to sink as he realised that his time with you was ending, and when you finally emerged from the shrubbery and plantlife and back into what they would term civilisation, his feet became rooted to the spot, his hand still holding yours tightly and tugging on your arm to bring you to a stop.

“W-Will you stay with me for a little longer? We could watch the sunset?”

“I’ll stay with you as long as you’d like, Tommy.” Your thumb rubbed over his knuckles, tugging him back into motion gently as you walked together toward the huts. “Let me go and get my brother ready for bed, and then I’ll come and find you, if you want to choose us a spot to watch from?”

“I’ll see you soon, then.” You leaned up, pressing another kiss to his cheek before pushing your bag down his shoulders, taking it with you as you moved toward the collection of huts all sitting in the middle of the encampment. He had chosen a spot on the grass, looking out over the water, and the area around him had begun to grow quiet when he finally heard you approaching.

Your footsteps were light, and he turned his head to look up at you, a large blanket wrapped around your shoulders for warmth. When you reached him, you took it off, draping it over his cold skin and he held an arm out for you, letting you tuck yourself back under the blanket. His hand slipped down along your side, sitting on your waist and his cold fingers slipped under the edge of your shirt to sit on the warm skin of your waist as you huddled together, your head resting on his shoulder.

Shades of orange and pink fanned out across the sky in a way that looked almost like a painting, before fading into purples and blues, the deep ebony of the sky coming in as stars twinkled above the two of you. When Thomas finally tore his gaze away from the sky, he found your eyes closed, and he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, your breathing slow and steady, and he realised you were asleep.

He rested the top of his head against yours for a second, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold in the smile that wanted to break through. Warmth was filling his body and he used his free arm to shrug the blanket off from around you both, before scooping you up under your legs and lifting you to his chest.

He walked as steadily as he could, weaving between cabins as he tried to remember which one had been yours, and he nudged the door open with his foot gently. The empty room was dark, but the moonlight coming in from the clear night sky was enough to guide him as he placed you on top of your covers gently. Taking your shoes from your feet, your body shifting sleepily as he tried to pull the blankets out from under you, your hand reaching out to find his and he lifted it for you, your fingers lacing with his as you pulled your joint hands to your chest happily.

“You can stay if you’d like. You don’t have to walk all the way home. You can stay with me.” You mumbled out your words, pressing a kiss to his knuckles gently and he reached behind him, but he hesitated at your offer. He wanted to, he really wanted to, but he couldn't ruin your sleep like his own was always ruined. “I’ll hold you through your nightmares, it’ll be okay.”

With a soft sigh and a kiss to your knuckles, he was kicking your door shut and toeing off his own shoes before easing himself down onto the bed beside you. The second he let his head hit the pillow, your own head found a place on his chest, your legs wrapping between his as your snuggled into him, and he held onto you tightly. Leaving a lingering brush of his lips against your hairline, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

For the first night in over a year, Thomas had a dreamless sleep. No terrors, no nightmares, nothing.

He was shocked or wake up in the morning and find you still curled in his arms in the same way, and that he was more rested than he ever had been. The second you had woken up and asked him about the smile on his face, he’d told you about his progress, and you’d been just as happy as he was. In his joy, he let it slip just how cute he thought you looked with a messy bed head and the morning sun rays around you, both of you blushing as he let the confession slip. He refused to leave the bed, instead, he held you tightly to his chest until your hunger for food had become too much and you’d forced him to release you so you could get up.

He watched you move about, stretching your body out in the morning and finding yourself a fresh set of clothing to wear, the ones you had slept in becoming uncomfortable on your skin now. “You staying here or are you coming to breakfast?” He teased, and when he made no effort to move, you held your hand out to him, your fingers spread out invitingly for him to sleep his own between, and with a groan, he forced himself up.

The second his shoes were on and his fingers laced with yours, you’d been moving him toward the table. That day, he was bold enough to queue up for his own food, your hand in his giving him the confidence to do so. That afternoon, your brother had approached him, asking Thomas if he wanted to join his team to play soccer against some other kids, and he’d accepted.

That night, after you had bid your brother could night and returned to your own cabin, you’d allowed him to crawl under the sheets with you again, slipping into a dreamless and peaceful sleep. As the weeks turned into months, and more time passed them by, and Thomas found himself spending less and less time in his own hut, but found more and more of his things appearing. He’d stopped taking his laundry and belongings back to the place he barely visited now, and instead simply unpacked them into your drawers with your clothes.

The day he came home to find you wearing one of his shirts as pyjamas, was the day his heart stopped in his chest for a few seconds as he looked at you. It was also the day he began to wonder, if home really meant a place, or if it might be a person to him instead.

Thomas wasn’t really a jealous person. He knew you didn’t want to date Gally, but up until now, the most time you had both spent with anyone else was for mealtimes, or walking on the beach with your brother.

But, as the safe haven grew bigger, a couple of the adults had realised that a lot of these kids had been taken and put into mazes and experiments before even learning basic things. All the younger kids had started attending classes, learning to read and write, learning their history and some basic survival skills. Now he was active and around, Thomas had started working to chip in like everyone else. He helped Newt in the gardens, and helped clear land to build more homes.

For the first time ever, their whole group was free for a day, your brother was attending his classes and making new friends his own age, and he knew you were just being friendly, but he couldn’t help but want all your attention on him. You were chatting and laughing with the boy he could now call friend, but now he was standing along as everybody else interacted and thought about the plans for the day, but Thomas didn’t want anyone else right now, he wanted you.

As though reading his mind, you never turned away from your conversation, but you must have felt his burning and longing gaze on you, because your arm lifted from your side, stretching out in his direction as you flexed your hand at him, the same way you always did when you were telling him it was okay for him to hold your hand. With hurried steps, he stumbled to your side, both of his hands holding yours and he gave Gally a polite smile before pressing a kiss to your temple in thanks.

He felt better, because you were giving him attention even when you weren’t giving him attention.

He knew he couldn't occupy your time all the time, that wasn’t how things worked, but he liked to have all the time he could get, because he would happily give you every single second of every single day of his time if you’d let him. But, that’s not what life was. Life was knowing yourself better than anyone else, and it was knowing that the only person who had to spend every moment with you, was yourself. That life was nothing, if you couldn't love yourself.

You had taught him that, and you had taught him to love himself. He was proud of who he was, and he no longer looked back in negativity. As the year so far had passed you had taken his worries and regrets and crafted them into something beautiful. You had made them into something he was proud of, something he could look back on with fondness and nostalgia, and miss those he had lost without feeling like he had failed, and he would never be able to repay you for giving him his life back.

Nuzzling his nose against your hair, he held onto you tightly, enjoying the warmth of your side as his front pressed up against you. Your conversation with the other boy continued on for a while, but he waited patiently, and when it finally finished, he was quick to land hands on both of your hips as turn you towards him. Sliding his hands around your back to meet in the middle, he laced his own fingers behind you, pulling you closer to him until he could prop his chin on the top of your head.

His fingers were weaving through your hair, and he was happy just holding you, until Newt’s voice called out to the both of you; “We’ve settled on spending the day at the beach. Are you coming or what?”

You glanced up at him, and he looked between you and his friend, nodding in response and you cheered happily, breaking away from his grasp to high five the blond boy as you told him just how much you loved the beach. When you returned to him, your hands had found his shoulders, propelling yourself into the air until your legs were wrapping around his waist from behind, your arms circling his neck and he chuckled at your actions, his hands coming down to grip your thighs as he adjusted you on his back.

You had clung to him for the whole walk down to the beach, mumbling comments and jokes in his ear as you went, keeping his mood light and peppy. It was a hot day, the end of the summer and yet the heat was still dragging out, the sun burning overhead as the boys set up a makeshift set of nets, a soccer ball that had been washed up on the beach.

By the time lunch was rolling around, the girls had long since decided to tan in their swimwear, and the boys had stripped off their shirts in the heat, having abandoned their soccer match to lie on the sand. Thomas did a lot with his friends, and he almost felt bad for himself for having missed all this fun the year before, but the year before, he was still stuck in his bad dreams, and a year before, he hadn’t met you yet.

He was always close though, you were always within his sights, no matter what you were doing, and he’s watched you lay and tan as the sea had pulled out on the shore, and then he’d watched you explore rock pools and pick out shells you liked until the tide was coming back in. As the sea came in deep enough that you wouldn’t reach the rocks, you and the other girls had gone swimming, standing happily in the waves and gossiping.

You were too far away now, he still had his feet on the dry sand while you were more than waist-deep in the sea. Luckily for him, Minho had decided to break up your girl chatter, racing into the sea aggressively and making as much splashing as he could as fast as possible. He could hear Sonya’s angry shouts from here, Harriet and Brenda both splashing him back aggressively as you cringed away from the saltwater in your face, and he smirked as he watched you back away from the boy, only for Newt to join him, and soon, he was following the boys into the water.

He could barely see through the splashing going on around him now, saltwater flying up from every angle in a blinding wall but he followed the sound of your laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind and shielding you, turning you away from the ruckus, your laugh bubbling against his chest as you shook in his arms with your giggles. His lips found your cheek in a wet kiss, and he cringed as he pulled away.

“You taste like the sea.”

“Well I’m wearing half the ocean thanks to Minho.” You joked, and Thomas spun you in his arms.

“Want a bit of revenge?” You nodded happily, and he mumbled a plan to the two of you, before quickly dunking under the water. You waited, the Asian boy screaming out in shock as he was suddenly lifted from the water, his legs dangling from Thomas’ shoulders as the boy emerged from under the water and he fell backwards from his perch, hands flailing as the group laughed, Minho spluttering once he emerged.

“You’re so dead, Thomas! Newt, get on my back!” The blond boy didn’t have to be told twice, and Sonya squealed, hopping up onto Aris’ back as Brenda jumped up onto Frypan’s, Harriet lifting her hands and backing away in surrender and Thomas turned to you with a cheeky grin.

“We can take ‘em.”

“Yeah, we can!” You yelled, and he crouched down, your legs sealing around his waist once again as your splash battle took off. Water was tossed and thrown, bodies falling back into the water and reappearing on repeat, until everyone had swallowed enough water and was wearing enough seaweed to call it a truce. You were still sitting behind him, picking seaweed and grit out of his hair happily as the temperature of the eater began to catch up to you.

The sun was sinking toward the place the sky met the land and the chill was beginning to sweep in. Twisting in his grip, he released your thighs, expected you to slide to the ground, but instead, you swivelled around, your arms tightening around his waist in the water and your arms around his neck as you looked at him now.

His hands circled your back, pulling you closer to him, the breath between you shared. “Did you have fun today, Tommy.”

“One of the best days of my life.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and relishing in the low giggle he earned for the action. His hands smoothed up along the skin of your back, playing with the strap of your bra before sliding back down, his fingers tingling as he touched you, his forehead resting on yours. “I don’t know where I’d be without you. You changed my life.”

“I didn’t change anything. I just showed you how to make the most of the one life you get.” You shivered in his grasp, and he began to walk the pair of you back towards the shore, your legs dropping to walk on your own when the water dipped below your waist, and his fingers found yours to weave them together. As the sky darkened and the light faded away, your group made their way through the crowds to the showers to wash off the sand and salt, and he finally let you go as you stepped into one of the cubicles.

When he emerged, you were still showering, and he changed quickly, racing down to the kitchens, water still dripping from his hair as he joined the dinner queue. Vince served him two bowls of soup, and two portions of bread, commenting on how nice it was to see him and he made the walk back up to the showers to meet you, only to find them empty when he arrived.

He panicked, he didn’t want you to think he’d left you, and he made the quick route to the cabin the two of you now shared, trying not to spill the hot food on his hands as he moved. When he opened the door, you had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, and you were lighting candles delicately as he burst through the door. In your shock, you had dropped the match to the floor, the stick putting itself out and you grumbled, picking it up carefully and disposing of it.

“I just went to get soup!” He panted, and you chuckled, making your way over to him and taking one of the bowls.

“I see that, honey. Why are you stressing out? You haven’t been stressed for a long time.” His heart warmed at the pet name you reserved just for him when the two of you were alone, and he shrugged carefully as he sat down with his own meal.

“I don’t know. I wanted to surprise you but you were gone from the showers, and I just panicked, I guess..” You looked at him with a soft gaze, swallowing your food and continuing to eat in happy silence. He was no longer shocked by your ability to calm him so quickly, instead, he found comfort in it.

He had long since realised that he would never be able to live without you, you were everything to him, and you didn’t even know it.

He had gone to return to dishes, dashing through the calm and cool night to put them back, and when he’d returned, you were already tucked into the pillows, candles blown out and blanket peeled back for him. He took his place on the usual side of the bed, and instead of turning you back to him as you usually would so he could pull you close to his chest, you faced him.

Your hand came up to rest on his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone carefully. “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to panic.” You whispered, voice carrying in the darkness and his heart rate sped up, a nervous chuckle leaving him.

“That’s like asking a dog not to bark.” He muttered, but the air was tense around you both.

“It’s been a while since anyone did a supply run, a good few months. We need more stuff and we have been building so strong, we have the capacity to save more people, now.” He didn’t like where this was going, and he reached up to hold your hand over his cheek, squeezing tightly as his heart raced. “Vince asked me if I would go with them.”

“Please tell me you said no?” He questioned, but the silence in the air answered for him, and he heard himself sniffle in the darkness, your cooing following, as he tried not to cry. “I don’t want you to go. I can’t come with you.” He wished with everything he had that he could go with you to look after you, but despite how much he processed it, he knew he couldn’t talk you out of it just like he could never go back there. “When do you leave?”

You sighed, the question hanging over him for a second and the longer it was before he got a reply the heavier his heart felt. “The day after tomorrow.”

“F-for how long?” His voice was croaky, and he let a single tear slip from his eye and drip into the pillow below his head, sniffling deeply to push down how he felt.

“About a month.” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses to your palm, and the tips of each finger as he thought about the situation. You should move the rest of you things in while I’m gone. If we’re bringing more people back, we’ll need all the huts we can get, and you haven’t been back there in weeks. I don’t want you to close in on yourself just because I’m gone, honey.”

“I won't, I promise.” He wiped at his eyes, shuffling closer to press his lips to your forehead tenderly, before holding you there, your arms wrapping around each other. “I’ll go to breakfast and dinner every single day, I swear it. And, I’ll do extra work with Newt in the gardens, to fill my time. I’ll spend time with your brother, he wants to build a treehouse with me.”

He felt you tip your head to press a kiss to his jaw as he spoke, before you yawned tiredly. “He would love that. He thinks you’re the best, he loves you as much as he loves Minho.” You mumbled, face buried in his shirt as you drifted off to sleep.

The following day, you had told everyone about your trip, and they were shocked or find out that this would be the last full day in which they see you for a month. That night, Newt had arranged a bonfire for your departure, and Gally had whipped up a batch of his secret recipe drink. Frypan had stolen chunks of chicken and rolls of bread from the kitchens, and as the night rolled in, Thomas had found himself sitting on a log with you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as funny stories were shared between the group.

A fire so tall he could barely see through the flames to the other side curled up into the air, sparks and still burning ash trickling away on the wind, and his hands were grasping a stick with a piece of chicken on, the same as everyone else, as you roasted bits of food. You were giggling, the effects of Gally’s drink hitting you, and your head rested on his shoulder, his own resting on top of yours as he simply listened to you talk to his British friend, spinning the stick in his hands as he watched the chicken rotate and cook on the end.

He had missed it at first, but he jumped as he let his gaze flick over it one again. Your grip had grown slack, the heavier end of the stick sipping closer to the centre of the fire and the meat on the end of your stick had actually caught fire itself. Not only was your chicken ruined, but you hadn’t noticed the flames crawling along the thin wood pole towards your fingers, and he yelped, slapping at your hands to get you to drop it.

Your gaze found his, brows furrowed as you looked at him, following his trial of vision until you saw the fire half-way up the stick, a shocked sound leaving you as you threw the whole thing into the flames, your eyes wide as the group cracked up laughing at the incident. With a pout, you picked up your drink, swilling the almost empty glass around before taking a sip of the liquid.

“My chicken..” You grumbled, huffing through your nose and he chuckled, nudging you with the elbow pressed between you both as he pulled his stick back from the flames, showing you the perfectly roasted piece of meat.

“You can share mine, sweetheart.” Turning to look at him, your pout was replaced with a cute smile, and he grinned at the sight of it, his head dipping forward to bump his nose against yours.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Anything for you.” His nose nuzzled against yours a little longer, his forehead pressed or yours happily as you waited for the food to cool, before he held it out in your direction, letting you take the first bite. You shared the stolen treat between you both, sharing your bread out equally as well, until both of you had enough to fill you.

You stayed out staring at the dying embers until all the warmth was gone and the night was dark and cold once again. You had hugged each of your friends goodbye, all of them bidding you well on your trip, cracking jokes and promising to do something fun when you returned. You had walked back to your cabin in silence, leaving one candle lit by the bedside as the two of you lay down.

Something was different tonight. It was the first time Thomas was going to have to say goodbye to you, the first time he faced having to on his own for a while, and though he knew he could handle it, he was still worried. Not for himself, but for you.

You looked after everyone else, but who was going to be looking after you out there.

His thoughts were swirling and dragging him down to the depths as you played with his fingers, your eyes on him as he avoided your gaze in the low lighting of the room, your breath washing over his face from your close proximity. When your hand finally stilled, you called out to him, the sound of your voice dragging back to reality.

“Don’t get lost in your head. I’m going to be fine.” You whispered, and he nodded cautiously, eyes scanning over every inch of your face, memorising your features. For once, his heart wasn’t racing, and his nerves weren’t electrified. Anxiety wasn’t coursing through his veins, and Thomas had never been so sure of his actions or his feelings in his entire life.

Leaning in, his lips met yours softly, his eyes closing as he pushed into you, enjoying the soft sound you made, your hand coming up to lace in his hair, your legs tangling with his as you pulled yourself closer to him and he circled his arms around your waist, rolling onto his back. His fingers gripped your hips as his mouth moved slowly and passionately against yours, the air around him seeming to tingle each time he pulled back for breath only for your lips to meet again, and his tongue traced the seam of your lips, to which you happily parted them for him.

Tentatively, his tongue dipped out, playing with yours between your cheeks and a low moan left him, your whimper being muffled between the loving exchanges you shared, and eventually, you pulled back for air, pressing your lips to his in a final and chaste peck, leaving the same on his nose. You collapsed down onto his chest, tiredness creeping into his body, but he could feel the smile he held being returned on your own lips, your face pressed into his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Tommy. I’m coming back to you, don’t worry.”

Your pledge held him steady as he fell asleep, your body weight on top of his making him feel safe and secure, and your confession of love making him feel warm and comfy in your embrace.

When Thomas woke up alone, the large ship on the horizon gone from sight, he wanted to get back into your bed, hold your pillow close to his chest so he could smell you, and simply wait it out until you returned. But, he didn’t.

He joined his friends for breakfast, just as he had promised he would do, because he wanted to make you proud.

His nerves were wracked. He had been sitting on the beach here for hours, ever since he’d seen the ship peek over the horizon as a tiny dot, and he’d practically been rocking with anticipation as it grew closer and closer. The small steamboat that had been bobbing on the shore was finally fired up as he watched the anchors be dropped from the main ship, the small one beginning to fill up for it’s multiple trips to and from to carry everyone back to the shore.

Firstly, came the newcomers. Shaken up and in awe, he remembered that same look being on his own face two years ago when he woke up, and one year ago when you’d started showing him how to truly live. The next shipload carried all the supplies, and Thomas was impressed by how well you had all done. It took almost forty-five minutes, he was timing it on his watch, to unload it all, the boxes being carried up the beach to put away.

Finally, the little boat departed again, and he stood up, his legs shaky and nervous underneath him, and he distracted himself by wiping the sand from his jeans, brushing himself down and straightening out his clothes.

He messed with his hair, ruffling it and flattening it, his hands continually running through it, and the little carrier ship finally came to a stop. He squinted, but he couldn't make anyone out, merely shapes unloading carefully and climbing aboard, and it seemed to take hours before it was slowly making its way back toward the beach.

He still couldn’t see you, amongst what seemed like a sea of bodies, he couldn't pick out your face, and his leg began to jerk and his foot tapping at the floor, adrenaline and anxiety riddling his body. Coming to a stop, the boat piled out, person after person and he watched carefully for you.

The last few people were making their way off, and he was sure the entire nail on his thumb was gone from how much he had bitten it, when at last, he saw you. You were battered and bruised, your shoulders sagging with exhaustion and you feet dragging. Your shirt was torn, and your bag was slung over one shoulder, but you had a tired smile on your face as you hopped down onto the sand, making your way up the beach.

He was calling out to you before he’d even registered it, his feet carrying him in rapid footsteps towards you and you looked up, your bright eyes meeting his and how he had missed seeing them looking into his own. You dropped your bag from your shoulder, your arms lifting tiredly up and open for him and he skidded to a stop before you, his body crashing into yours as he held you tightly.

Finally, after all this waiting, you were back in his arms, and he pressed a kiss to your hair as he buried his face in your neck, his body trembling desperately and you held onto him, your hands coming up to squeeze around his waist as he cupped the back of your head, the other hand resting on your arm.

“Tommy, baby, you’re shaking. It’s okay, I’m okay!”

“I missed you so much!” His eyes were lined with tears when he eventually let you pull back to look at him, and he watched as you own eyes filled with tears while you looked at him.

“I missed you too.” Dipping his head, he pressed breathless kisses to your lips, trailing them up across your cheeks, covering your face with the touches as he tried to steady himself. His hands slid down your arms to lace his fingers with yours, and his foreheads pressed together, and he felt himself finally slipping back into ease and joy now he had you in his arms again.

“I went out every day, like I promised. I hung out with everyone, especially your brother. We hang out the most, he missed you a lot. He can’t wait to see you when his classes end.” You gave him a teary smile at the words and he lifted his hands, not wanting to see tears on your face, whether they were happy or sad. “What do you want to do? You want to sleep, or eat, o-”

“I really want to shower. I’m achy and dirty.” You mumbled, and he kissed your lips one final time, one of his hands leaving yours as he dipped down to pick up your bag, before leading you away. Holding the door open for you, he dropped your bag to the ground, and watched you rifle around for a change of clothes, before dragging yourself toward the cubicles. Your hand never left his, pulling him into the stall with you as you closed the door, and his cheeks heated up as you did.

“You want me to shower with you?” His voice was higher than normal, and he cursed himself at the way it had risen in pitch, showing off his nerves openly. Your eyes were sliding shut you were so fatigued, and his hands found the edges of your shirt, peeling up over your body and stripping you down gently, dirty clothes building a pile on the floor and he pushed them away with his foot.

Twisting the handle for water, the warmth sprayed over your body, a low groan falling from your lips the second it did. He dropped his own clothes to the heap, stepping forwards push you both under the spray of water carefully. With a soft touch, he lathered a bar of soap in his hands, scrubbing the dirt and grime from your skin, the water running discoloured for a while as he removed the sand and filth from you, your face buried in his bare chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, detangling knots and washing away everything that had happened while you were away from him.

When the water was clean once again, he reached for the worn towel, drying you from head to toe before helping you dress into your fresh clothes, only to find you’d brought him a set too. One of his shirts hung from your body, the long sleeves covering your hands as he scooped you up under your legs, the dirty clothes all bundled in the towel and you held the collection as he held you.

You were too tired to eat, you just wanted to sleep, and he was more than happy to do whatever it took to take care of you, as you had been doing for him for so long now. You didn’t care about the light flooding in through the window, you only cared about crawling into your own bed, your hands clinging to him as you dragged him down with you.

“I got you something.”

You sat up slightly, pointing at your bag in the corner and he raised his eyebrows, leaving the bed for just long enough to dig through the bag and pull out the neatly carved little wooden box, the contents jingling and shaking as he held it. Settling back in beside you, he sat up as you rested your head on his chest, an arm around his waist and your legs tangled with his.

He popped the lid open, a selection of tools sitting inside and you covered your mouth as you yawned, hid fingers picking through the instruments he was seeing.

“A wood carving kit?”

“I thought you could carve, like you said Chuck did. It’ll help you feel connected to him.” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at you, and he placed the box down, shuffling down until he could brush his lips with yours, your head resting on the pillow beside him.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Your lips flicked up, twitching into a smile at the side. “What are you going to carve first?”

He contemplated it for a minute, humming under his breath, and his fingers trailed along your arms to your hand. “How about a ring-” He tapped the base of your ring finger with his own, circling the space the token of love is supposed to sit. “to go right here?”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you laced your fingers with his, a small laugh leaving you in a breath. “I think I’d like that.” You didn’t say anything after that, you soon fell asleep, but Thomas lay awake, his free hand running through your hair as he simply enjoyed being able to hold you.

His mind drifted to how far he’d come, a grin pulling on his face. This time a year ago, he had been sceptically following you up a mountain, intrigued by the girl who had made him laugh when no one else could. Now, he was holding the love of his life in his arms, his thumb rubbing over the patch on your finger that a ring would soon sit on.

And finally, Thomas knew what was missing. He knew his friends cared for him, loved him, and made him feel safe. But you made him feel different. When he was with you, nothing but pure joy and adoration filled his veins, his heart beating erratically when your eyes met his and you smiled at him with a grin you saved just for his eyes when it was the two of you, the one only he could get from you. When you said his name, his heart soared and he felt like he’d been lifted into the clouds.

When your lips met his, Thomas felt like you were breathing life back into his lungs and showing him a world he’d always dreamed of and never thought he’d get. When he was with you, he didn’t feel like anything was missing, he felt like he was complete.

When he was with you, he felt like he was finally home.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #thomas tmr #thomas tst #thomas tdc #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #tommy month #tomuary #tom-uary #dylan obrien fic #dylan obrien fluff #dylan o'brien imagine

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bran-writes · 4 years

Text

AK Character Flashback: Devon

Devon could tell Zig-Zag was starting to get anxious, which the eleven year-old could understand- he really didn’t want to be caught dead in an abandoned insane asylum on the outskirts of The Barrens after dark either. But, Devon was spurred on by the burning question in the forefront of his mind.

“You can just stay out here, if you want,” Devon shrugged, glancing behind him. Zig was climbing the vine-shrouded stone steps, sweat glistening on his forehead. The boy pushed his glasses up and scoffed.

“I’m not scared. I’m careful.”

“I know.”

“Plus, I probably would be more scared out here by myself than in there with you… So… There’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you care so much, anyways? You didn’t even know the kid.”

Devon stopped, grabbing the straps of his backpack and pulling them tight. He knew why he was here, he just wasn’t sure if he could explain it. Zig came to a stop next to him and patiently waited for an answer. “You ever felt really alone?”

“Sure, that was like, all I did before I met you guys.”

“Imagine how he felt,” Devon nodded towards the looming, decrepit building. “Nobody should be that alone.”

Zig wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Okay.”

The two continued ahead, stepping around debris from wreckage they had no context for. As they walked closer, Devin kept an eye on the cracked, dirty, blackened windows above, half-expecting to see the ghost of a young boy staring back at him.

If the rumors about this place were true, Devon would probably feel like crying after he left, but he pushed on anyways. He just wanted to know.

Zig-Zag pulled the door open for Devon and held it while the boy walked through, pulling the cheap drone out of his backpack and clicking the activation button. With a whir, the tear-shaped device sputtered, faltered in the air in front of him as if it was dangling on a string and then straightened out.

“We need a new one,” Zig sighed. “Flashlight.”

A beam of light shot from the front and two sides of the drone. The lobby of the deserted building sat uncomfortably still- the broken down furniture and abandoned desk cast strange shadows on the dirty surfaces. Devon connected the drone to his watch and set it to record video and audio.

“We good?”

“Yeah, let’s get this done so we can go.”

“Speaking my language, Han Brolo,” Zig smiled.

The two kids picked their way around the rubble, while the drone’s secondary set of lights scanned the scorch-marked walls and shattered doors. They kept an eye out in all directions, wary of anyone lurking around the halls. In any other old abandoned building around town, they’d have to worry about squatters and addicts approaching them from the dark(so they’d been told). But here in Sam Morner Hospital, they probably wouldn’t have to worry so much. Nobody hid out here, not this close to the Barrens.

Following the old floor plans on his phone, Devon lead Zig-Zag through connecting hallways and down a flight of stairs, their outdated drone humming behind between them. The place was stiflingly dark and smelled like old, wet moss and rusted metal.

“He must have been so scared,” Zig sighed.

“We’re close.”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and paused, the drone shining it’s three lights down down each hallway of the T-Junction. Down the paths to the left and right, Devon saw nothing but a stretch of darkness past the light beams- other than motes of dust drifting restlessly. He was really starting to wish they were back at Zig’s house, where they were supposed to be.

I’m sure he wanted to be home, too, Devon thought.

Ahead of them was a short dead-end hallway- a group of rooms that once served as storage used by the staff of the facility. At the end of that hallway was a single door, the faded and chipped word “MAINTENANCE” stenciled on its rusted bronze surface.

“There it is…” Devon whispered. He felt his stomach turn and that familiar lump in his throat when he was trying not to cry. They stepped forward and got halfway to the door when they heard shuffling.

“Flashlight,” a voice whispered sharply from behind them.

The drone went dark.

The boys were enveloped in the blackness.

Zig screamed.

Devon joined him in screaming when he heard someone scramble towards them too fast for them to react and Zig hit the floor. “Flashlight- High Beam!”

Kwin Bergeron sat on Zig’s chest, cackling in the harsh light of their drone.

“You fucking psycho!” Zig hurled punches up at their friend, who just blocked them, laughing before rolling off the boy.

“Kwin, what the hell?” Devon panted.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

Zig sat up, on the verge of tears, “Yo, that’s not cool, you almost gave me-”

“Boo!”

Both boys screamed again, Kwin laughing even harder after Holly Groene leaped from the shadows. “Jesus! What are you two doing here?!”

“Uh, we showed up at Zig’s house and you guys were gone-zo,” Kwin chuckled, “and so was the dang drone. We checked the app and saw it out in Old Pine. We took a few guesses.”

Devon took a moment to catch his breath and let his nerves settle, while Kwin helped Zig up. “Great, that’s great.”

“Wait, how’d you beat us down here then?” Zig brushed himself off.

“Your brother,” Holly shrugged. “Him and his girlfriend drove us around to Hartley and parked in the back. All we had to do was wait.”

“No fucking way,” Zig scoffed, “Miles would never let you come down here alone.”

Holly pulled at a strap on her shoulder and revealed the hunting rifle she had slung. “I got this baby with me.”

“Anyways,” Kwin sighed. “Let’s do it to it. Nobody wants to be near the Barrens after dark.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, asshole.”

“Wait, what do you think we’re doing?” Devon tilted his head.

Kwin looked confused. “We’re here to pay our respects, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Cool.” Kwin walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door, Holly joining him. Devon and Zig followed. “You do the honors,” Kwin stepped back.

Devon gently pulled the door and it opened with a sad, lonely whine. The room was small, cramped, musty. The drone cast it’s dim light inside onto a dry, filthy blanket, a couple of empty tool boxes an a message sloppily written on the wall:

ILY Mom

A year ago, police in town followed a tip and found the body of 12 year old Charlie Nemitz down here. Charlie was a quiet, reserved hemophiliac and the constant target of bullying at their school. He was small, skinny, frail and had an awful stutter, even when he talked to himself in the halls. Even Devon knew that all Charlie wanted was to be left alone to draw and color his art. That didn’t stop kids from picking on him- and since Charlie never told on his bullies, and he never fought back, it got worse over time.

This was where Charlie Nemitz died. This was where- after a group of bullies spotted him walking alone, jumped him, dragged him into Sam Morner, down the stairs and threw him into the room- his last moments played out. Bleeding out from his internal wounds, Charlie kicked and screamed at boys who were just upstairs. The bullies clowned around thinking they’d let him out in a few hours after they’d downed all their stolen beers. This is where Charlie used one of his markers to scribble a barely legible message to his mother in the dark. Charlie succumbed to the internal bleeding in his brain, stomach and limbs before the three bullies thought to check on him.

Devon unslung his backpack and set it on the ground as he crouched next to it, tears streaming down his face. Zig did the same and pulled out his own belongings he’d brought.

He wasn’t surprised the rumor about the message on the wall was true, he just needed to know. The three boys had all just been convicted, and the message(for whatever reason) wasn’t mentioned in the trial. But the kids around school swore it was real- some claimed to have come down there themselves to see it.

Devon just wanted to know.

“I brought some old comics I don’t read anymore,” Zig whispered. He laid them out neatly against the wall. “He passed by me one day in the cafeteria and saw me reading ‘em. I could tell he was trying to get a good look at the, uh… at the pages, but when I asked if he wanted to read em… he just shook his head and walked off.”

“These are some of his drawings I tried to replicate one day cause I thought they were pretty cool. Mr. Connors had them hanging outside the art room, so I went and tried to sketch it myself? Like one day before school. He was really good, but he was an older kid so I was scared to ask him about it. I wish I had.”

Kwin stepped forward and reached into his own bag, pulling out a smooth orb that reflected off the drone’s light. “I didn’t really know him… I only saw him a couple times. But I kept thinking about how dark and scary it was in here so I brought a Glo-Ball… I don’t know, it won’t last forever, but-”

“It’s cool, I’m glad you brought it,” Devon interrupted. Kwin had a tendency to doubt himself, so the boy often found himself stopping his friend from getting there.

Kwin shook the glass ball, coaxing it to glow brighter and brighter the more he did so. He cranked a switch in the flat side on the bottom to increase the time and hit the alarm feature. “There, it’ll last for 6 hours every day at noon. At least til the dang battery dies.”

The kids- Devon, Zig, Kwin and Holly- stood there for a few long and silent moments before Devon stood up and brushed his pants off. “He deserved to still be here. That’s what all this means.”

The others remained silent in solemn agreement, before Kwin stood up as well, swiping his hands together and nodding in approval of their memorial. “The dark’s the worst way to go.”

“What’s that from?”

“I forgot, but I have nightmares about this stuff all the time,” Kwin shrugged and turned for the door. Followed by Holly. Zig and Devon followed, back up the stairs, out of the side entrance to the abandoned facility where Miles Sutter’s car was waiting with the teenager and his girlfriend inside.

Before they got any closer, Devon stopped them all. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for coming out here with me. It’s cool I didn’t have to do this by myself.”

“No problem,” Holly brushed her blonde locks back, “And it’s cool you did this. You have the best ideas.”

“Yeah,” Kwin lightly punched his shoulder, “It feels good. Like, having an ending to it. I don’t have to pay attention to any of the bullshit rumors and news stuff. We said goodbye.”

“I think he’d appreciate that,” Zig sucked his teeth. He wrapped a skinny arm around Devon’s shoulders. “Good work, Inspector Cooley. Another case taken care of.”

Tag List:

@remi-writes-sometimes @writerinafury @the-violet-writer @anomaly00 @writinglyra @linariouswrites @drabbleitout @carmina-solis

#apocalypse kings #ak flashback #Devon Cooley

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my-brothers-corrupted · 4 years

Text

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 1 : Section 4 : Pharmacy Break-In

Trick, Dok, and Dapper were let out of the house with money and a modicum of freedom for once. Now well-supplied – except for one vital need – they returned home only to find that, during their day of happiness, Jackie and Marvin have been “reset” by Anti. Their memories gone and their attachment strengthened, the oldest twins struggle to come to terms with themselves, their brothers, and their master, but they’ll have to do it quick – another day, another crisis on the horizon, and Dok is in danger.

Trigger warnings: hypnotism, major abuse, torture, trauma reactions, breaking and entering, and mentions of psychosis.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

Part Four of Chapter One: Pharmacy Break-In

musical-in-theory asked: Mar- *sigh* Blue? Can you hear us?

Blue peers over Red’s shoulder, blinking. His face has begun to go more yellow than white and he holds himself like he’s in pain, sheltered behind Red’s body. “I can hear you,” he says. “Who’s talking?”

“I think they just talk,” mumbles Red.

They give you twin looks of distrust.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, Dapper? You boys might want to hurry on home...

“We should have,” mumbles Doktor, backing slightly towards the door. “We should have, we should have.”

“Dok,” whispers Trick, gripping at his shoulder. “Let’s stay calm, man, let’s stay calm. No close-offs tonight.”

Doktor wrings his hands together, cursing the tears in his eyes. “Red?” he calls, shakily. “Do you know who I am?”

He already knows the answer.

Red stares at him skeptically. “Anti said Doktor,” he answers.

“But don’t you know - ” Doktor chokes on a sob, refusing to let Trick draw him towards the nest. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Red opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Sorry,” he manages finally.

Doktor screams, slamming his fist against the door. Trick begs him to be quiet, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t bother Anti, please don’t bother Anti, we’re okay, we’re okay…”

Anonymous asked: Is blue gonna be okay? Poor boy doesn't look like he's feeling too good

Blue’s swaying slightly in place, pressed against Red’s shoulder. “You know,” he mumbles, swallowing back nausea. “I think I want to sit down.”

Red turns to hold him.

“Your bed is over there,” mumbles Trick, avoiding their eyes. “You should probably… take it easy.”

He half expects Red to snap at him for suggesting anything at all to him, but Red seems to have lost his interest in him along with his memory. Trick doesn’t know why this puts a hard lump in his throat. It’s better if Red ignores him. It’s better if Red doesn’t remember him. Isn’t it?

That’s my brother, says some part of his mind, with grief. That was my brother.

And Trick, turning away, tells that part of his brain to shut the fuck up.

Anonymous asked: Hoodie? How're you feeling?

Red leads Blue around the island to their sleeping bags - there are two of them now, not that Red sees the difference - and they crash to the ground side by side, sitting with their hands close together on the floor, trying to process.

“I feel pretty sick,” he mumbles, staring down at his hands. “My head really, really hurts. And my wrists…”

You see that they are rubbed raw. He must have been chained up. “I don’t remember… anything,” he whispers. “Just Anti… and Blue. And - and - and nothing, just… fragments… dreams… I don’t know how this could have happened… I think we need to go to the hospital…”

He touches his head, groaning.

Anonymous asked: Red, your heads unwrapped. Did your injury reopen? Where does the dye end and the blood begin?

“Oh, fuck, his head’s open?” Trick stares over at the island. “Dok, you gotta go check on him.”

Doktor is biting back bitter tears, hidden against Trick’s shoulder, clinging to his jacket. “I don’t want to see him like this,” he sobs. “I don’t want him to have forgotten me.”

“Fuck, buddy, he just - he just - he won’t be so different, okay? Anti must have just - Anti must have had his reasons.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” sobs Deutsch. “What if he didn’t, what if he just did that to him? What if he just does that to us, someday? What if we all forget each other? What if we already have forgotten, forgotten important things, forgotten who we were?”

“Dok,” snarls Trick. He grabs his shoulders tightly, fear lacing his trembling voice. “Don’t you say shit like that. Don’t you dare say shit like that. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Doktor whimpers, tears cascading down his cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t want to be - I don’t want to be mindless - I don’t want to forget - ”

“Enough,” Trick demands, shaking him. He knows he’s being harsh and it doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is getting him to stop fucking talking. Because if he doesn’t, they’re going to get beat to shit. And Trick isn’t watching him go through that again. Not a chance in hell. He’s seen Doktor dying too many times in his life. He’s seen Doktor weak and suffering too many times. And he’s learned his lesson - you shut the fuck up, you shut your twin up, and you don’t get hurt.

No matter what else you have to sacrifice.

“Enough, no more. Stop crying. Now, Dok. Go, go over there and look at Red and Blue.”

“Trickshot - ”

“Don’t argue with me. What’s the rule? When one of us is upset, the other one…”

“Does what he’s told,” chokes Dok, trying to swallow back tears.

“Right. Right.” Trick wipes at his nose and sniffs, trying to stay calm himself. “Good man. Go on, then. Go patch them up before Anti gets mad. Now, Dok.”

Anonymous asked:

Blue... Are you bleeding? Two other anons had similar questions added.

They’re injured.

They’re bleeding.

Doktor sees it as soon as he rounds the corner, finding the two of them sitting on either side of the island, but no longer looking at each other like they did the day before - looking now with a strange sort of intensity, a confused tension hovering in the air between them. He sees, vividly, an early memory of him and Trick - sitting across from each other in a jail cell, trying not to stare at each other, wondering, Who the hell are you and why do I feel like I love you so much?

Anti never resets without leaving something behind. And sometimes, when your brain is blank and you’re exhausted, he leaves behind things that weren’t there before.

Doktor doesn’t remember much of the person he used to be.

But he knows that that person is different from who he is now.

He’s fairly sure that person was… kinder than who he is now.

Pain burns in his chest. He swallows it back like a pill. Take twice a day without food. Without water. Just take it. You don’t have any other choice. Swallow the pill or choke on it.

“You look like you need a doctor,” he manages, trying not to look as miserable as he feels.

Red turns to look at him, paranoia written all over his angry face. Always so angry. The memory of pain can be washed away, but it still leaves its scar behind, and Red has always met blood with fury. The reset is like pulling pushpins out of a bulletin boards. The markers are all gone now, but the marks remain.

“Are you one?” Red asks, a little sharply.

Doktor sighs. He’s about to reach the end of his rope. “Asshole, did you miss the part where Anti told you my goddamn name?”

“Fine, fuck!” snaps Red, unloosening a little. “Pretty sarcastic for someone who’s supposed to do what I say.”

“Tell me to shut the fuck up,” says Doktor coolly. “And I will.”

Red lapses into silence.

Doktor begins by examining him, running his hands carefully through his hair while Red squirms uncomfortably. “Why was it dyed today?” he asks.

Dok tries to be sensitive of just how agonizingly lost he must feel. “I don’t know,” he says softly.

“It just doesn’t make sense. I hit my head and decide to dye my hair?”

He doesn’t like it when Anti lies, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He wraps Red’s head back up carefully, washing clean the little stripe of dye above his fracture, which must be stinging awfully. He hopes he isn’t punished for washing it out.

Blue scoots steadily closer to them the whole time he is working.

“Anywhere else you have pain?” asks Dok softly, drawing away from Red.

“My head hurts,” he admits. The admission itself may as well be a cry of agony from Red.

“I’ll give you both something for that,” says Dok.

He’s just going to knock them the fuck out with some sleeping stuff. They don’t deserve to live through a night of exhausted confusion.

“How you are feeling, Blue?” he asks, turning to the other twin.

Not well.

Blue has gone very, very pale, the area around his eyes mostly yellow. He breathes a little too fast, reacts a little too slowly. His cuts are open. His cuts are weeping, weeping, weeping.

“Can I please have something for the pain?” he whispers, sinking down against the cupboards.

Red reaches out to grab him as he collapses, startled by the ferocity of protectiveness that rises inside him like magma. He barely remembers who this person is, but he must have fucking adored him. Oh, the poor cuts covering his aching body, the poor blood and bruises…

He gives up on trying to look tough and buries his face against Blue’s chest, sobbing.

Doktor cleans them up in silence. Restitches cuts from being tortured. Splints the aching bones from being thrown down the stairs. Washes everything clean.

They don’t even remember how they were injured.

But Doktor does.

Doktor remembers.

Doktor is angry.

He watches them swallow their pills.

He decides to take one himself, too, and returns to his nest, to his little corner of his safety, to his little brother, the only thing that ever seems to stay the same.

“Are you okay?” asks Trick, without words.

And Doktor, turning away, does not answer.

spicydanhowell asked: dok he's not gonna do it again. all five of you are here now, no more changes, he just wanted red to have a clean slate with his twin so theyd be close like you and trick. i promise he'll remember you, please go take care of him

“Thanks,” mumbles Doktor, flat-voiced, staring straight ahead out the window. Trick’s hand rubs the low of his back, a warm, reassuring weight on his spine. “I hope you’re right.”

Anonymous asked: blue... are you okay? is red ok?

Blue and Red lie beside each other in the darkness.

“Are you?” murmurs Red. “Okay?”

“Are we?” asks Blue, his voice faint.

Red stares at him like he can’t take his eyes away.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t remember who he is or who this person is - all he knows is that he loves him, and he loves Anti, and they’re together.

So that… that will have to be enough right now. He’s too tired for anything else.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers.

Blue stares back at him. His eyes are oceans.

“Then I’m okay,” he says.

And tonight, when he reaches out, just gentle, and grips Red’s hand -

Red squeezes his hand back, and smiles very softly at him.

At his twin. At his brother. At his friend. At his Blue.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.

Blue is already there.

Anonymous asked: Anti, I don’t think erasing Red’s memory was such a smart plan. Why take that kind of risk?

“What risk?” yawns Anti, pulling Dapper’s coat off him and pushing him towards the bed. “Here’s the wonderful thing about my brand of hypnotism, darling - it sticks. I’m very careful with my power. Very careful with my resets. Wash this away, leave this behind, take that out, put this in… The surface is gone, but the substance remains. He’s still my Red.”

He pauses beside the bed, staring out the window for a second.

“And I’ll have to be careful,” he murmurs, anger making his mouth curl. “That there is nothing left of your Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: You’re actually wrong. No matter how many ‘resets’ you do, their love for one another still seems to hold strong.

“Only when I want it to,” answers Anti. He is shaking slightly and he hides his trembling hands from you. “Or haven’t you noticed that there is no love at all left between anyone but my twins? Trickshot and Red hate Dapper, Dapper wants no one but me, Red slaps Doktor and Trick around more than I do, Blue will learn to do the same soon enough - no, all’s well. All’s well. I’m in control. I’m the one in control now. I’m the one who makes the characters. They’re mine, they’re mine.”

He hisses and turns away from you, his face glitching.

Anonymous asked: That’s it Anti I think I have enough spite in me to astral project through the screen and at least get one good hit on you. I’m not strong but MAN AM I MAD

Anti laughs, shaking slightly as he crawls into bed beside Dapper. “That’s how I know it was a good day’s work!

“Not strong but mad,” he giggles. “You’re like this kid here, huh?”

He pinches Dapper’s cheek hard. Dapper flinches but doesn’t respond, staring dully up at the ceiling. Anti kisses his cheek. Anti kisses his throat. Anti bites his ear. Dapper whimpers and covers his face with his hands. Anti bursts into laughter, drawing him to his chest. “Give me a kiss!” he laughs. “Give me a kiss, come on.”

Dapper turns on his side and kisses his brother’s cheek without emotion on his face. It stings his mouth.

“Good boy,” purrs Anti, wrapping his arms around him. His face is sallow with exhaustion, he leans his head down heavily on Dapper’s shoulder. Safe on Dapper’s shoulder. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.

“You are okay?” asks Dapper, with a slight flicker of concern. “Anti?”

But Anti is already unconscious.

Most of Dapper’s discomfort washes away. He whimpers and snuggles closer to his brother, hugging him in return, rubbing his back, even if it does hurt to touch him. He presses the reassuring weight of his clock against Anti’s chest, readjusting his brother on the pillows, and curls against his body, letting out a deep sigh.

It was a good day. But it’s time to put it behind him and go back to the way he always lives. There’s no point in anything but duty, after all. There’s no point in the past or the future. All he knows is that he is on the night watch now, and nothing - nothing, nothing - will harm his brother as he sleeps.

cest-mellow asked: hey dapper? are you feeling alright up there?

Dapper stares at you, wrapped up in Anti’s arms. He looks exhausted, but he’s a patient kid.

“Doing okay,” he signs slowly, refusing to disturb his brother. “Should stop expecting anything. Should have known he only let me go so he could reset M… Blue.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, do you know exactly what Anti may have done to Red and Blue? What they went through, I mean?

“Happens often,” says Dapper, his eyes darkening wearily. “Reset. Some things go, some things stay. First day is worst.”

He stares down at Anti for a moment, ensuring that he is asleep, and then up at you.

“Don’t tell Anti,” whispers his hands. “But sometimes, in the days that follow the reset… some things can be recovered, before they are lost forever.”

cest-mellow asked: do you know how we would recover them? just.. hypothetically?

Dapper stares at the floor.

“No,” he says. “Someone tried, once… but it wasn’t enough to save me.”

Anonymous asked: that’s good news!! but how can we get those memories back without anti knowing?

“I think it’s more about the substance of a man,” says Dapper vaguely. He’s untangling himself from Anti a little, setting his brother gently back against the pillows, stroking his fingers through his short green hair. “I wouldn’t know. I can never even find myself, these days. As far as ‘day’ has any meaning. As far as anything has any meaning.”

Anonymous asked: Regardless of memory or time or blood or how it all comes together or crashes down around you... It all has meaning, Jameson. YOU have meaning. I promise you that.

Carver starts and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. He tries to find a response, but his hands are empty and his chest is full.

Until anger comes crashing down on him.

“You’re wrong,” he signs bitterly, drawing his knees to his chest. “I give meaning to other people, but me? No. No. Just… a clock, wound up and changed to fit the time someone else asks for.

“Crashes down around me, crashes down around me… the world crashed down on me a long time ago, or maybe it was only yesterday, and I am the last working piece of the rubble.”

He scratches dully at his wounded head, rocking himself gently, gently.

“And barely working, at that.”

Anonymous asked: Maybe this is convoluted and unfair to ask of you considering that you're the one that CAN answer but... between resetting someone's mind and resetting a time frame, which strikes you as worse?

Dapper pales in the evening light, his hands stammering slightly as he tries to find the right words to answer you. “Well - well - no harm to a time reset,” he cries, distraught. “Is there? I didn’t do anything bad, did I? No harm, no harm - I can know what comes but - I wouldn’t take your autonomy. It’s just - a day! Just an hour! Just…”

He sits back against the headboard, chewing on the nail of his thumb, distressed.

“Then again, there are nice parts to resetting your head… to make the pain fade away into the background…”

He breathes out deep.

“To free the person you were from the sin of the man you’ve become… To be Carver, not… J… to forget what used to make you happy, so you can stop hoping for it, and live misery more peacefully…”

Dapper stares out the window. The northern lights are breathing through the sky, and he quiets, watching them, forgetting what he was talking about.

“And then Anti loves you better,” he adds softly, his hand on his brother’s head. “So… what else matters?”

florenceisfalling asked: is anti still asleep? dapper, do you think you could help... salvage?

Dapper grins a little strangely and points at the rope still lying on the floor, a snake sleeping but not dead. He is unlikely to venture downstairs without permission. He winces slightly and closes his eyes, rubbing at his throat.

cest-mellow asked: is it real love though, jamie? why would someone hurt you if they love you, even if you did something bad, or if you simply didn’t do a thing. why would somebody who loves you hurt you the way anti does? i’m not trying to make you upset. maybe this is something someone else needs to hear, downstairs. but i think you need to hear it too.

“What would you have me do?” asks Dapper distantly. “Even if I left Anti, could I flee my own violence? There’s nothing left for me without him.”

A sudden energy rises in him, powerful enough that you hear him choke, once, twice, as he rides it through, and then he sits up, and his eyes are not silver but blue, blue, blue.

“Do you see that who I was is destroyed and who I am is Anti’s, and if I am not Anti’s then I am no one’s and nothing, and would swiftly kill myself in his absence, as he has always told me I should do if he were to die? Do you understand that I cannot without justification bear the weight of the things I have done? Is it real love? Broken things can love truly! But not well, not well, badly, even - yet a second broken thing expects nothing better than a shattered handful of affection to keep him alive every other night. Where would you have me go? What would you have me do? I can’t pull myself out of these chains. I can’t remember except on the nights when I can and I can’t bring the people I’ve forgotten to remember along with me. Do you understand that only my family could save me, and my family is fucking dead and gone?”

He slumps down beside Anti, covering his face with his hands.

“No, you don’t understand… neither do I… I don’t understand anything anymore… please, tonight is not a confused night, though I wish it were not, as these are the most painful nights to survive, because I am more aware than ever of just how much goddamn pain I’m in - and just how truly I can never, ever be free of it. Just how truly I can never, ever, be Jameson Jackson again.”

There is a long pause. He breathes harshly in the darkness, hiding beside his brother’s body.

Until, finally:

“Anti is someone I could run from,” he admits, very softly.

“But Carver?”

He breathes. The sky breathes. Time breathes in and through and with him. And none of it, none of it, none of it - none of it means anything to him anymore.

“Carver I will never be free of.”

He wishes Anti had reset his memory again. Perhaps the fifth time would work better than the first four.

“Carver I will never, ever, ever be free of.”

Anonymous asked: You have meaning. You're more than a clock. You CREATE, J. You make ART. Those are your thoughts and feelings brought to life. And even if your artwork never makes it it of that room, it's still there and it's yours. You don't need to make them and yet you do. That's a choice and you make it for yourself and that means everything.

Dapper bites down hard at his lip, teary-eyed, a protest rising and dying on his hands, and then something different registers with him, and he blinks, and sits up straight, his eyes widening -

“I,” he stammers, his face losing all color.

He clutches at his heart, trying to breathe, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I forgot to grab my art things… I forgot to grab my chalk and paper.”

cest-mellow asked: can i ask you.. was carver someone in you before anti made you dapper? or did he only become someone after all this?

Dapper gives a soft, breathy moan, clutching at his heart. “Don’t remember… just remember… knife, blood, crying, asleep. Stolen, killed. Red.”

Anonymous asked: I imagine you don't mean red the color. Y'know. All things considered.

Dapper stares at the floor. “The color was the only thing it meant, back then… we never - ”

A hand jolts up to grab him by the throat.

Carver slams his skull back against the headboard, giving a desperate gasping scream. His hands fly up to scrabble at the fingers around his neck, but Anti is holding him tight, glaring up at him, bored and irritated, from the mattress of their bed.

“Anti,” Carver begs, writhing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up - didn’t mean to be loud, move too much - didn’t - please, please, please - ”

Picking at the nails of his free hand, Anti gives no answer but a low, impatient sigh, waiting til Carver’s spasms are reduced to desperate gasping, and then to a slight tremble, and then, at last, an unconscious body in his hand, sinking down into the mattress, its owner’s mouth slightly blue…

Anti drops Carver onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. With all the air of an artist re-arranging a sketch figure, he pushes Carver into a position that’s comfortable for him and lies back down on the boy’s warm chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and falling back into a deep, cozy, and undisturbed sleep.

nikkilbook asked: Red’s wrists are raw? But... didn’t he have a dog bite wound there? And... what do Blue’s wrists look like?

Red stares sleepily up at you, morning light casting gold over his red and brown hair. He reaches up stiffly to stare at his wrist, licking his dry mouth.

“Dog bite, is that what that is?” he mumbles, looking at the bandages. He turns to Blue and picks up his hands as he sleeps, examining the splint on his brother’s wrist. “His is broken… and both of us have these… chain burns…”

He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t remember how we got them…”

Anonymous asked: Why do you feel the need to constantly remind yourself that they’re all ‘yours?’ Dont you understand that the hatred they feel is only making them more miserable? Your so called ‘characters’ are feeling nothing but pain, and misery. Characters are meant to grow and learn and be satisfied in the end. Any good ‘creator/writer’ should know that, but I guess you really aren’t one after all

Anti filters dully through messages, dozing against Dapper’s arm, but at this he jerks up, venomous, glaring at the camera.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarls, dragging Dapper closer to him. “You think I care about any of them? You think I care about anyone? I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything! Shut the hell up! Maybe they could find some satisfaction if they would goddamn do what they’re told! Useless little things, useless, useless, useless…”

He snarls and shakes, sinking suddenly back down towards the bed, a low gasp falling from his mouth. His skin is translucent and his hand grips Dapper’s shirt tightly.

Dapper whines in his sleep and turns over, cuddling up closer to Anti’s chest. Anti softens, humming, playing with his hair. “Mostly, anyway…”

cest-mellow asked: anti, do you actually love your brothers? part of me feels like you do but the other part... i don’t know.

Anti looks up, eyes narrowed.

Eventually he turns back to Dapper.

“What does it matter?” he says finally, without emotion.

“No one knows what I am,” he adds a moment later. “No one… no one knows what I am. Do natureless things have a telos? Can an endless thing have a need for love? Is there love without a telos?”

He sighs and puts his head back down on his pillow, looking sick and human.

“I need to stop downloading philosophy right before bed.”

Anonymous asked: Functionality, uselessness, so many different standards... that is one frankly unhealthy fixation of yours, and it makes me wonder if you’re projecting just a little of your own fear onto them. Because being useless is being weak, right? And you can’t have that from yourself. Anybody else but you.

Anti jumps out of bed, heading for the camera, but before he gets there you see him stagger back, falling against the mattress again. “Everyone is weak compared to me!” he shrieks.

Dapper groans, panting through a nightmare on the bed, his hands covering his ears.

“Everyone is weak and stupid and fleshy and pointless! Shut the fuck up! A fixation, what am I supposed to do, don’t you know I was born full of hatred, it’s his fault, it’s his fault! And he was weak and he was useless and he’s gone now, he’s gone!”

He drags himself back to his feet and throws the camera across the room, hard. Your screen cracks down the middle, giving you a shaky, glitching image as it tumbles to the ground to lay on its back.

“Projecting… I’ll show them motherfucking fear… I don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

skyewardlight asked: Ooooo looks like we hit a soft spot huh? :3c

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

immabethehero asked: Anti, how are you not questioning the talking cameras?

“They’re not fucking talking, they’re just goddamn messages. And they do whatever I want them to, they’re my cameras. Everything with electricity for lifeblood is me, is mine. Talking cameras…”

Anonymous asked: fuck... anti... i respect you. pleeease don't hurt the boys because one of us said something cruel to you. we know you're very powerful. we don't doubt you. i'm sorry.

Anti’s rage simmers a little lower and he shrugs, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, a little thickly, rubbing at his face. “Nothing you can do to me. As if it matters… doesn’t matter…”

He sighs, stretching out his arms and tired, aching neck, looking calmer.

Anonymous asked: You know what would give everyone in this house some life blood? A space heater, Anti. Everyone's cold.

“Space heater,” he repeats. “No, we won’t be in this part of the world long enough to need that. Besides, have they really done anything to earn a space heater?”

spicydanhowell asked: yknow what i think though... and let me phrase this delicately because carver was so well behaved all day but... he and dok and even trick... they all still love each other, or at least care for each other

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” hisses Anti. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be. Only on my orders. Stupid little brats. What reason would they have to still care about each other? I reset them and pitted them against each other like dogs in a ring. No, no, don’t be silly, pet.”

He staggers back to his bed, waving a hand, trying to get the camera to turn off.

“That’s enough out of you,” he growls, sinking back onto his blankets, his arms trembling as they lower his weight down again. “I brought you here for one reason and this is not it. I’m the one in control… I’m the one in control…”

The camera blinks off.

cest-mellow asked: hey red, you feeling any better? do you remember anything? even little things like smells, sounds, the way something felt or looked like. anything at all?

Red sits back, smiling slightly at the question as something warm flickers through his mind, a memory so distant it can barely be seen.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

He looks around. Golden light drifts over his body. He soaks in it, staring out at the forest.

“I think there was… a house,” he says softly. “And it was… warm.”

He looks down at his hands, considering.

“But this isn’t that house.”

nikkilbook asked: How’s my boy doing? He’s gotta be overwhelmed. On like. Every metric.

Red stares at you, his mouth beginning to tremble.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, and breaks into sobs, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t handle - ”

His twin stirs beside him, rubbing at his eyes. A brief moment of utmost confusion covers his face, but after a moment, it changes to only “mostly confused” and he reaches out to touch Red’s sleeve, avoiding skin, mumbling his name.

“What’s going on?” he asks, soft.

“Don’t remember anything,” chokes Red, rocking himself gently back and forth. “Don’t feel good, hurt, hurt.”

His brother sits up, murmuring reassurances. He’s there to put a warm, steady pressure on his arm. No matter what happens, at least he gets to be there beside his friend, and make sure he’s okay, or, if not okay, still with him, at least.

Still with him, no matter who he is.

Anonymous asked: anti how exactly did it go reseting marvin? i guess red probably took it okay, but, like, what did you actually do to them to make them forget? how did you manage to get marvin to cooperate?

It’s evening and Anti’s only now bothering to rise from bed. His face is still starkly white, though he occasionally glitches back to green, rubbing wearily, angrily, at his face. Dapper’s not currently in the room, but shuffling nearby assures Anti that his pet has not gone too far. In fact, you can hear a sort of clapping coming from the hall.

“It went well enough,” murmurs Anti, satisfaction ghosting over his face. “Yes, you have to be rough to get them to cooperate. I came to grab him while he was sleeping, but then even Red got so upset - went into one of his little fucking freak-outs and wouldn’t come down into the basement with me. So I had to tie him up too. And then it’s just - power like an ocean, and the sound of them crying as they feel themselves drift away.

Like sand from the beach.”

He pauses, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

“I love when they’re so dopey and confused,” he hums. “Love, love, love them looking up at me like that, waiting for me to tell me who they are… just like Jack must have felt, don’t you think? Just empty slates, waiting to be formed. I love that… but I almost hope there’s a little of the cat left… I want to see him…”

Anti pauses and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I want to see him humiliated by what I’ve turned him into.”

Anonymous asked: (Answer whenever)Why can’t you see that weakness doesn’t make you useless and uselessness doesn’t make you weak. You’re blinded by your constant crave for control, and anger that you don’t see that you yourself are being puppeted around by your own emotions. You can’t make a family forget their love for one another no matter how hard you try, and it pains you. Denial will not get you anywhere. It may be his fault that you’re like this but that doesn’t mean you should enable it for the worse.

Anti is up on his feet, searching through the drawers of the bedside table. Your words draw a low, dangerous hiss out of him, and he turns to you with mismatched eyes, lips drawn back.

“You’re a fool if you think I’m not in control of everything here,” he growls, turning back to the drawer. “I know everything they do, everything they think, everything - goddammit!”

He holds up a little orange prescription bottle. Four tiny white pills rattle around the bottom.

“Okay, you know what,” he says, as horns curl out of the back of his head and the scraping of dog’s claws echo through the air around you, accompanied by the soft snarling of something that you have never heard before. “Maybe there is one thing I can’t control.”

He sets the pill bottle in his hoodie pockets, his face cold as he turns to the light.

“Chase Brody’s unbelievable stupidity.”

He looks back towards his door.

“Red!” he calls. “Go tell Doktor and Trick to wait for me in the basement!”

Anonymous asked: The question is, why exactly did Anti allow us to observe and communicate in the first place? We may taunt him and try to get through to the egos but we're not really a threat while he maintains control.

“You want to know why I allow you to use my cameras? To watch, to see, to speak?”

Anti picks the camera up and holds it in his hands as he stalks out into the hall and back towards his room. Downstairs, you can hear frantic argument. Dapper scoots back against the wall of the hallway as you pass him, clutching something to his chest.

“It’s because I think it’s funny.”

He opens his closet door and pulls out a small wooden box, opening it to reveal a set of gorgeous silver knives, tipped with a different color each. Gently, he pulls out the orange-tipped one, gripping it warmly in his hands, holding it up to the twilight.

“I think it’s funny that you’re still here even after he is gone. I think it’s funny that you sit here and watch as I fucking torture them. I think it’s funny that you lost and you’re still here trying to win, I think it’s funny that my boys find any comfort at all in the things you say, and I think it’s the most ridiculously hilarious thing I’ve ever fucking heard that you still think you can save them.”

The cool blade of the knife glimmers and the light dances at his behest.

“You can watch all you want. Because I hated Jack, yes.” He turns to you.

His teeth are gritted. His eyes are black. The strength of the anger radiating off of him is powerful enough that you can feel it like a physical force, taste it in your mouth, sense it on the ends of your fingers, like when you hear the rattling of a snake but cannot see it yet.

Not yet.

“But some days,” he whispers, teeth bared. “I hated you more.”

There are birds crying in the trees. There are birds fleeing from the trees. The sky is rapid darkening.

“This is my victory. Drown in it.”

And he turns to head downstairs.

skyewardlight asked: Looks like someone's overcompensating about his control. You constantly mentioning that you're in control doesn't convince us Anti. You sound like a child constantly stating they're an adult and throwing a tantrum when someone else says that they aren't. Heh.

“I’m about to show you control,” he says.

The sound of his boots coming down the stairs silences the whole house. Red and Blue cower as he passes, hiding behind their island, not yet sure what’s going to happen, though memories both dull and sharp are rising harshly in their heads, memories of blood and agony.

“Overcompensating… he belongs to me. He’d be nothing without me. And he’s still foolish enough to fail to look after my little one, well.”

He flips the knife around and around in his hand.

“He won’t forget my puppy’s medicine again.”

Anonymous asked: Will hurting him make you feel better? Will hurting him make him love you more? It won’t. He is human, he forgets. You should not punish him for being the way they he is. Brothers are supposed to love one another. Not make the other feel miserable, and helpless. Why can’t you understand that it’s okay not to be in control?

Anti pauses on the stairs towards the basement, panting harshly.

“He shouldn’t forget,” he snarls, scraping his knife against the wall. “He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he should know better, I taught him better! He’s not human, he’s less than that, he’s just - ”

Anti screams and gnashes his teeth, throwing his head. “He’s just a piece of him! And I’ll fucking show him what happens when he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to! He belongs to me, to me, to me! No one else, no one else, no one else!”

Anonymous asked: anti, please, you didn't even tell him to get it. carver didn't even mention it. trick didn't do anything wrong

“Red said it, that Dapper was near to out. He should listen better to his big brother. He never does. Always the littler dog snapping back when he should just roll over. Doktor and I are the only ones he listens to, and sometimes not even then. Besides, he should know what the little one needs. What, he expects Dapper to remember? No. Trick has to change.”

Anonymous asked: Aaaaghhh there was a pharmacy! It was right in front of them and we didn't realize, nooooo! I thought they got everything at the store why!! I feel so deceived!

It was a very small detail!! Red only mentioned it off-handedly and the pharmacy was thrown in among a lot of other details. I think you guys still did a good job checking. Anti’s standards, as you can see, are near impossible to meet.

cest-mellow asked: anti, anti, take a second. everything is okay, red or you can just go out and grab the medicine, right? trick forgot, but he didn’t mean to! he got everything else you asked him to get, didnt he? and i can guarantee he feels absolutely awful about forgetting once he realizes, not because of you but because of dapper! you’re such a good brother, you know that? don’t you think you should be a little more gentle to them so they can be better to you as well?

At the top of the stairs, Anti hears Trick and Dok stop in their panicked discussion with each other, still panting through the darkness. He grits his teeth, growling softly, and a sob echoes off the walls.

Anti rolls his eyes, thinking.

“They would be relieved if I didn’t punish them,” he admits. “But he should… know better, he should… I can take it a little easy on Doktor, maybe. But he should learn, don’t you understand I have standards? No, no, no, there’s no excuses for his bad behavior. What would you have me do if not torment his Doktor? That’s always the best way to teach him.”

Anonymous asked: This is not right. You shouldn’t be doing this to your little brother. He loves you, and would do anything for you. You already make him do so much, and now you’re going to hurt him for accidentally forgetting. What kind of brother tortures the other? They may love you but they do not believe that you love them, and I’m starting to think that, they are right.

Anti bristles with a nasty sneer, stalking down the stairs again. “Oh, you don’t think they love me?”

The boys jolt as he appears before them, backing closer to each other. Doktor tries to keep Trick behind him, Trick does the same with Doktor, and they end up pressed side to side, almost gripping each other’s hands.

“Trick,” he says, snatching him by the throat. Trick screams, lifted into the air - Doktor, at his side and to his credit, does not flinch away. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, yes!” screams Trick, gagging, clutching at his brother’s hands. “Yes, so much, please!”

Anti drops him on the ground.

“Please,” wails Trick. “What did we do?”

“Where’s Dapper’s refill?”

“R-refill?”

“For his medicine, Trick! The shit that keeps him from tearing his fucking face off because he sees dogs eating him alive!”

Trick can’t breathe. His mouth hangs open as he stammers too much to speak.

“We’ll go back and get it,” whispers Doktor, stepping slightly over his brother’s body. “We promise. No harm done, master.”

“‘We,’ no, no, your stupid twin is on his own. If he wanted your help, he should have remembered.”

“D-didn’t - mean to - Anti,” gasps Trick. “D-didn’t - ”

“No, you shut up! Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re lucky your little audience is less bloodthirsty than usual. For once, no one seems to want to see your brother tortured.”

Trick sobs dryly, reaching out to grab Doktor’s pant leg. Anti reaches down to grab him by the hair and yank him to his knees.

“Dapper has two days worth of refills left.” He holds up the little orange bottle and rattles the pills. “So you have two hours, Trickshot. Come back with his medicine. If you make it in time, I won’t touch your twin. If not, we’ll be having fun without you.”

Anti drops Trick again and turns to you, shoving the camera back onto the table by the door. “And if you want to see him safe so badly, then why don’t you save him? Take your camera, Trick.”

For a second, a smile plays across Anti’s mouth like the wriggling of an entrail.

“Your little friends are going to help you on your way.”

Anonymous asked: Money! He needs money!

Trick glances up at Anti for a second, panting.

“I gave you your money,” says Anti coolly, pulling Doktor away from his twin, who gives him one last desperate glance and manages to sign “H-A-L-D - ” before he is yanked to Anti’s chest. Trick hesitates again, trying to think, and a second later the back of Anti’s hand collides with his face, striking him hard enough to make his head spin. Choking, Trick dashes up the stairs, trying to hold back tears, always, always, always trying to hold back tears.

“Trick? What’s going on?” asks Blue, his voice haggard. In a blind panic, Trick considers just dashing away from him. It takes more than half an hour just to run to town, let alone to get the medicine and return, and he already feels so weak and shaky with terror that he can barely stand.

Anonymous asked: Im trying to see the good in your Anti, but sometimes its hard to admit that you’re not a straight up dickwad. He admitted he loved you out of fear and nothing more. They only love you so they can survive another day. Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull? You need help and actual love, and so do they. I know you want that. You’re just afraid that they’ll leave you alone, or that you’ve broken them past the point of no return

Anti screams, a horrible sound, enraged and exhausted, low on power and lower still on patience. “Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up, shut up!”

He turns his head towards you with a horrible burst of light from his eyes and the camera shorts out entirely with a painful screech, leaving you with no eyes in the basement and a last memory of the sight of Doktor’s face, blank and yet terrified as he sinks, helpless, to the ground.

Anonymous asked: H-A-L-D. Does that mean anything to you, Trick? Can you make anything out?

“I - I don’t know, no, I don’t know anything! I don’t know where the pharmacy is, I don’t know what his prescription is or what fake name he goes by, how much it costs, I don’t have any money, but it doesn’t matter because it’s night and I think the pharmacy is closed and I - ”

He has to heave in a desperate breath, gripping frantically at his hair, tearing, tearing, tearing -

“Trick,” cries Blue, getting painfully to his feet and coming to his brother’s aid. He tries to grab Trick’s hand, but he draws away, frantic, eyes wide.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Blue demands.

“No, no, no, no, Anti said alone - ”

Blue grabs his hands again, successfully this time. Trick stops, gasping, and turns to meet his brother’s eyes, bluer than denim dye. “Trick,” says Blue, softly.

And there is a moment where the name that Trick was told to forget rises to his brain like a sedative, warm and reassuring and tired, and the man looking at him is not just Anti’s, but his own, is someone he remembers, very distantly, very softly, very warmly…

“Marvin,” whimpers Trick. “I don’t know what to do.”

Blue blinks, drawing slightly away.

“I forgot to get Dapper’s medicine and now Anti is angry and he’ll hurt Doktor if I don’t bring it back in two hours but I don’t have anything I need and I don’t know - I don’t know - I don’t - ”

“Amata,” whispers Marvin, touching his cheek. “Breathe. Breathe. What do you need?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re hurt, you’d slow me down. And I can’t ask you for much,” whimpers Trick. “Anti could get mad if he realizes you helped me.”

Marvin’s eyes flash. Red is watching from behind the island, shaking.

“Is there anything I can do?” asks Marvin.

Trick stammers, shaking his head uncertainly, turning to you with eyes wide. “I don’t know, is there?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, has Anti ever accidentally killed anyone downstairs and had you go back to fix it? I was going to ask him this directly but I realized if this has happened, he wouldn't know...

Dapper is sitting in his room, happily drawing with his chalks, which have apparently been returned to him. “Look what someone left on the stairs!” he crows cheerfully, holding up his sketchbook and chalks. “Trick or Doktor, I guess. They must have sneaked up the stairs and everything, just for me, just for me!” His cheeks are flushed with delight. For a second, he just sits drawing, processing your message slowly, slowly, until his chalk has come to a standstill in his hands.

He pauses, staring at his paper, his mouth falling sorrowful again.

“I’ve undone a lot of bad things,” he says. “They blur together. You don’t know how many times I watched Doktor rise up out of that body bag… In the end, I couldn’t even prevent the bullet from striking him, but he did not die. And some days, Trick or Red have not returned home, and I have redone the day again and again. But Anti, killing someone downstairs? Not one of my brothers, maybe enemies.”

He curves the beak of a crow, thinking, his mouth taut.

“Once,” he says, slowly. “Anti told me that he had broken someone, and so I had to undo it… he was very gentle with Trick for some days after… he let him sleep and sleep and sleep…”

Dapper sighs and readjusts, pulling his sketchbook close. “But I’m just glad those things didn’t end up happening!”

Anonymous asked: This is all dappers fault.

The smile dies on Dapper’s lips. “What’s my fault?” he asks shakily, dropping his chalk to the ground. “What did I…”

Paranoid, he rubs at his throat, glancing around, frantic. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked something up and then forgotten about it, only to be punished minutes later. Tears pool in his silvery eyes.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Trick, Dok!! Please be brave for each other. Remember today and how happy you felt!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” chokes Trick, biting on his lip til it breathes. “I have to be - I have to be brave for Doktor. I have to be brave. I have to be brave.”

He tries to take deep breaths, working hard to calm down. He can do this. He can do this.

Anonymous asked: dapper, im sure you won't be able to but - do you think you could fix today? is that even possible?

“Fix today? I could go back before it. But only if Anti told me to. Otherwise I wouldn’t know the password and then he would be angry when he saw my silver eyes. Why, something’s wrong?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you've done nothing wrong. You're medication was forgotten and Anti is pissed but that's just him being... himself, I guess. It's nothing that can't be fixed though okay? What are you drawing?

“Oh.”

Dapper stares down at his paper. After a moment, he sets it unhappily down to the side and gets to his feet, rising to stare out the window. His face is quiet and tired. There are blue bruises all around his throat.

“I hope it can be fixed. He gets so angry…”

He rubs his face, stressed.

“I was just drawing Poe,” he sighs. “But I don’t think she’s coming back anyway. Will Anti hurt the other boys, for forgetting? I should have… I should have remembered.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dappper, it might be in Trick's best interest for you to redo the day. He and Doktor are in serious trouble!

Dapper chews on his nail. “I’d like to help, but it’s not a quick decision, you understand. First of all, there’s no point to a redo unless there’s something I can do to change it. Otherwise we’re just looping. I’m the only one who will remember the change, but Anti will see that I am tired and silver and then he will ask me for the password or a good explanation, and I won’t have it. Then I’ll be in a great deal of trouble, and things still may not be fixed. I need to be able to interfere. Usually, that means I tell Anti something went wrong and he changes his approach or comes to the aid of the brother in trouble.”

Anonymous asked: I don't know what Marvin can help you with, but Red has picked up Dapper's medication before! He should know the medication and the other details. (PS, pharmacy is near the store you had been shopping at for the other supplies)

Marvin whirls on his twin. “Red, tell him what you know.”

Red stares between the two of them, making calculations in his head. Doktor will be hurt if Trick doesn’t come back fast enough. That’s guaranteed. Red himself may be hurt if he helps Trick, but the likelihood is lower, and it could save Doktor. If that were all there was to it, he would take the burden of responsibility without hesitation. Anti said he was the leader, so it’s his job to protect the others. However, things have changed from – oh, he doesn’t even remember, he just knows things have changed. He has a twin now. Like Doktor punished for Trick’s mistake, Blue could be the one punished for Red’s decision.

“You understand,” says Red. “That if I tell him, you could be hurt.”

“Yes,” snaps Marvin, without hesitation. “Stop being a little bitch and tell him.”

Red laughs aloud. If he could remember, he would know it has been a very long time since he laughed like that. He’s starting to see why Anti picked this one for him.

“Fuck,” he laughs, a little hysterically. “Trick, come here.”

Trick, anxious but relieved, hurries to his side and kneels down beside the cupboards with him.

“I was rummaging through the cupboards this morning,” says Red. “Trying to figure out who I was.”

Trick winces at the sadness of it.

“I found all these IDs. They’re for different countries, different names, different ages, different everything. There’s about twenty-five of them and the pictures could work for any one of us. I don’t remember which one I used to pick up Dapper’s medicine.”

“Fuck,” gasps Trick, taking the box of IDs from him. “Fuck, okay, we can do this. There’s Irish, Norweigan, American, French, German, and Dutch IDs.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty white,” says Red.

Trick startles. “Did you just make a joke? I’ve never heard you make a joke.”

“Um - ”

“Never mind. Which should I take?”

Anonymous asked: You use krone as currency, you're in Norway!

“Are we?” asks Red. “I could have fucking sworn we were Irish.”

“We are,” says Marvin, and then pauses, confusion clouding over his eyes. “Are we?”

“It doesn’t matter,” snaps Trick, sorting out the IDs. “There’s five Norweigan IDs. Which should I take? None of these look like Dapper!”

“What sort of differences would Anti use to distinguish Dapper’s ID from everyone else’s?” asks Red. “Or should you just take all five?”

The boys stare between each other, trying to think.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I mean, Dapper is his favourite. Is there any extra care taken on any of the ID's? There has to be something!

“Some of them look newer than others… the birth dates are different…”

cest-mellow asked: red, blue? can you tell me any information about dap’s medicine? what name he uses, what kind, how much it costs? everything you say? this is important, anti is involved. trick is also into town to grab some stuff so if you have some change to spare for him..? thank you boys!

“I’m trying to remember,” sighs Red, sitting back on his heels. “I wish I could just go for him, I might remember something if I could see it. Medicine, medicine, medicine… I feel like the name of the prescription is on the tip of my tongue. Maybe it started with an H?”

“How about money?” asks Marv, coming up beside his brothers to help sort through the IDs. “You got anything stored?”

Red sighs. “Doesn’t matter. Store’s closed by now, I guarantee it. We’re getting close to nine at night and this is a small town, they don’t do twenty-four hours. You’re going to have to break in. You need the name Dapper uses or the name of the prescription, and preferably both.”

Trick jolts. “No, no - stealing shit is your job, I’ve only done that once and we were desperate!”

“Oh, you’re not desperate now?”

Trick whimpers, clutching at his hair. Marvin grabs his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Red, don’t you have anything that could help him?”

Red turns back to the cupboards, searching again. “There’s nothing tech-related down here. I’m assuming Anti keeps everything in his room. We could go up there and - ”

“No!” cries Trick. “No, no! Anti might let you off just for giving me advice, but if you go upstairs he will beat you into a fucking pulp, guaranteed. Dapper’s the only one upstairs and I’m not sure I want him involved.”

He pauses, biting his nails.

“I’ll… bring Doktor’s gun. And a hood and a mask, and try to break in on my own. The things upstairs would be nice, but it’s not like I can talk to Dap anyway.”

“What are you talking about, breaking in someplace?” protests Marvin, alarmed. “Is that something we do often?”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” frowns Red. “But maybe I’m wrong.”

“Fucking goddamn,” hisses Trick, exasperated. “I think I prefer no-memory Red, but he sure is useless.”

“Hey!” snaps Red, punching his shoulder. For once, Trick isn’t afraid that there are more blows coming, and he can’t help but laugh, wiping at tears in his eyes and shaking like a leaf caught beneath a door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there one that looks the closest to Dapper?? You're running out of time...

“No.” Trick’s voice is teary, he knows you’re right. “No, maybe I should just take them all and go.”

Anonymous asked: Does anyone know how many different countries you've been through before this place?

“Oh, I do.” Dapper’s picking anxiously at a splinter on the sill of his window. “Anti tells me and Red, says someone should know. Not that he’ll remember now, poor bloke. The three of us were in good old England for a while, then Ireland, Sweden, the Netherlands. Stopped once in Italy, then back to the Netherlands. I liked the Netherlands the most, we lived right by this great river, and Trick and Doktor were in the next room over, and I would listen to them talking and pretend I was talking to them too. And there were cats that would come up to the window and meow for fish. I loved it there. But we’re here now. I have a very nice view and I like the lights at night.” He sets his head in his hands, his mouth sad. “But I don’t expect we’ll stay long. We never do.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dapper, do you mind showing us your bottle of medicine? That way we can tell Trick what kind to get for you

“Sorry, I don’t see it in my drawer. I think Anti took it with him downstairs.” Dapper rubs his hands together, looking stressed. “I can’t help with anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so useless.”

Anonymous asked: Well, if you're breaking in, you probably won't need the right ID, right? You just need to find meds that match one of the names on the IDs. Bring all of them! And remember that it starts with H, Doktor was saying something like Hald?

“That’s a good point.” Trick looks relieved. “Okay. Let me grab the mask and the gun. Anything else I should bring?”

Anonymous asked: Which one has the youngest birthdate?

“Oh!”

Trick sorts excitedly through the IDs. “This one, um - born October 31, 1993 - Kayden James? Does that sound right?”

Anonymous asked: Haldol? It's an anti psychotic!

“Haldol.” Red snaps his fingers, delighted. “That’s it, I’m sure that’s right.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, I hope you realize that there is more at risk if Trick goes and gets the medication. What if he gets the wrong prescription? Or what if he's caught doing something he shouldn't?

The camera upstairs fizzles and glitches, casting Dapper momentarily in red light.

“Fixes all their mistakes,” plays across the screen in glitching green words.

For a second, Dapper gives the camera a disparaging look, as if he knows what’s being said.

“He’s getting overconfident,” he signs darkly, looking suddenly angry. Then he draws his arms around his chest and sits down on his bed, rocking himself gently, glancing over at the wall that separates his room and Anti’s office.

Anonymous asked: Do you have something you could use as a crow bar maybe?

“All the good stuff is upstairs or downstairs,” whimpers Trick, nevertheless sorting through the cupboards. “I wish I had some of the tech Anti usually gives Red. It’s - oh, fuck, what the hell is this?”

The boys pause to stare at it. It’s a short and very sturdy… stick?

“There’s a button on it,” says Marvin.

Trick presses it. They all jump hard as the stick expands into a full-length staff, Trick tumbling back onto his ass.

“Goddamn!” he snaps. “This is yours, Red.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a fighting staff.”

“You might be able to smash some shit with that. I’m more worried about locks.”

“Well, what’s that if not a lock picking kit?” Marvin points down at a little wrapped up pouch, inside which Trick finds a row of picks.

“Thank God,” he breathes, shoving them in his pocket.

“You know how to use those?”

“Yeah, actually. Fuck, well…” He glances longingly up the stairs at Anti’s room. “I guess that’s it.”

Anonymous asked: Let's see, mask so no one can see your face, gun to threaten people or break windows or something, ID to know which meds to get... unless you have a way to get you there and back faster, you might just want to go now, if no one can think of something else you might need. Time is of the essence.

“Right, right.”

Trick breathes out slowly, trying to steady himself. Fuck, he wishes he could do this with Doktor.

But he can’t. It’s up to him. He has to save his brother. Nothing else matters.

He turns back to the twins and jumps as Marvin presses the mask to his face and tugs the strap down over the back of his head. “Steal more than the Haldol, so the cops don’t trace it back to us. Narcotics or something. They won’t realize you’re anything more than a junkie. Take your brother’s big coat too,” he advises. “Keep the hood up and zip it all the way up, to hide your mouth.”

“Why are you helping me at all?” mumbles Trick, savoring the feeling of Marvin’s hands carding through his hair, just once. “We’re strangers. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

Marvin pauses. Trick stares up into his eyes. Soft hands, wrapped in warm gauze, descend to cup his face.

“I don’t remember much,” says Marvin, very quietly, so only Trick can hear, and the sheer tenderness of it is enough to bring tears to his eyes. For so long, Dok has been the only one who has cared about him. “But I do remember, little brother, that I love you very much.”

Trick snuffles, trying to hide his teary face as he swallows back the sudden pang of a very warm memory - someone holding him in a hotel room, promising him that everything will be okay, that he’ll be looked after, magic swimming quietly around their heads. He doesn’t want Red to mock him - but to his surprise, his oldest brother comes over too, and sets a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I can’t go in your stead,” says Red, and he sounds it. “Come back to us in one piece.”

Commanding but not cold. Not cold.

“That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” manages Trick.

He packs up his things as fast as ever he’s prepared for anything, snatching Dok’s coat from their nest and tugging the hood over his head, zipping it up from his mouth. Panting hard already, he takes off at a sprint down the steep path from the mountain to the village.

One hour and thirty minutes remain.

They watch him go, tortured twins wrapped in bandages.

“Can I ask you something?” asks Marvin.

“Yeah, course.”

“Why’s your hair red?”

“Fuck if I know. Yours is blue, after all.”

“Mine is what?”

Anonymous asked: Guys, you could just break down in front of the owners and say Dapper's very sick and you have no money....

By the time Trick makes it to the pharmacy, night has fallen dark about him and he is panting hard after the long run down the mountainside toward the sea. He slows as he reaches the village, tugging his hood lower over his eyes, darting behind buildings on his way to the store. There are people out and about, unfortunately, just across the street at the bar and restaurant where he and his brothers got fish just yesterday.

He almost chokes on the memory. He’d give anything to go back to that moment right now, watching Doktor eating fried food until his stomach was full and his mouth was smiling. He wonders if he’s afraid right now. He wonders if he’s in pain. He doesn’t know if Anti will keep his two-hour promise.

“Break down in front of the owners,” repeats Trick, panting as he makes his way to the back of the pharmacy. “I don’t know who the owners are - the shop is closed for the night and there’s no one home. I don’t speak Norwegian and don’t know if they speak English. I don’t know that they would give it to me, and if they did, I’d already have drawn too much attention to myself. But by all means, if you find a solution to all those problems, let’s fucking go for it.”

He rubs anxiously at his face, tears pricking in his eyes. “I don’t mean to snap,” he croaks. “I’m just stressed and - goddamn, no!”

He recoils from the door at the back of the pharmacy as though it’s stung him.

“I was hoping it would just be locked!” he cries, staring in dismay.

The door is locked with a digital number key pad, listing 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, and * all in a mockery of him. Trick grips at his hair. “This is a tiny town, why does it have any tech security at all!”

If he shoots it or tries to break it, he expects an alarm to go off. He needs to know the pass-code or risk breaking in while the cops respond.

Trick groans, turning his face away from the security cameras that watch from the door above, hoping he’s staying covered enough to hide. “Don’t suppose you would know the code? Please? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, please.”

juju-on-that-yeet asked: Look at the pad and see which numbers are the most worn down/faded. That'll give you a place to start, at least.

“M-maybe the 7?”

Anonymous asked: Do you know the address of the pharmacy, where it is on the street? Maybe the code is something like that, easy for employees to remember.

“No, I’m not sure… I’m scared to go around front and look. Or maybe if I could find their phone number online… but I don’t have any way to look that up.”

spicydanhowell asked: TRICK THE CODE IS 3677* (This was a number hidden in the tags of other posts)

Trick stares at you, panting hard. For a second, a million doubts run through his head - they could lie to me, they could make it up so I go to jail, they could be trying to get me away from Anti, they could be Anti trying to trick me and punish me, they could just be messing with me, I don’t even know who they are, how they’re talking to me, why they’re here, what they’d know -

But Dok is waiting for him. Dok is waiting for him and he doesn’t have any other choice and maybe there are some things that are worth putting a little faith in anyway, so he turns and presses his palm to the sensor, plugging in 3677*.

The handle turns in his hand and he gasps aloud, nearly collapsing from the relief. But time is of the essence, as you told him, and he needs to keep going, to be brave for his twin’s sake.

“Thank you,” he signs, tears in his eyes, and he shoves into the store, where bright lights flicker on in response to his movement.

“Okay, okay,” he chokes. “Now I just need Haldol, under the name Kayden James, and to steal something controlled so they don’t track it back to us and it just looks like I’m an addict looking for a fix. What did Blue say? Narcotics or something?”

spicydanhowell asked: a bunch of different stuff, trick, it hardly matters what, just get in and out. Two anons had similar advice added.

“Okay, you got it.”

Trick busts open the master-locked cupboards in the back, using Red’s fighting staff to smash through the wood - to his credit, he’s right that a small town pharmacy lacks good security for the most part, and no alarms go off inside, though he’s certainly been spotted by the security cameras staring down at him from all sides. He finds the prepared prescriptions arranged by last name and grabs at the J’s, finding the orange bottle marked “Haloperidol - James, Kayden” almost immediately, chock-full of the tiny white pills that help his little brother function. Nearly crying, he kisses the bottle and shoves it into his pocket, glancing back at the cold white clock on the back of the pharmacy.

He’s got fifty minutes to get home. He’ll have to run, but he can make it.

Just grab something. Just grab something.

But he doesn’t want people to not get their medicine. He’ll go for the unprepared stuff, the full boxes of medicine.

He turns to the shelves full of boxes and starts rummaging, looking for anything you listed, but nothing here is controlled, nothing addictive or used to make addictive shit, not that he can see, anyway. He glances toward an ancient safe with rusty hinges set on the table in the back and grins.

The hinges break after five furious strikes. There’s a crash as the door tumbles to the ground and he winces, his heart rate picking up. Someone on the street might have heard that. He needs to go.

He grabs two boxes of Percocet and three orange pain killer bottles. He turns back to the prepared prescriptions and scatters them across the floor. They won’t notice one missing in the middle of that, or they’ll assume it was just lost somehow.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Time to fucking go.”

He takes off, pressing back through the door again, staggering into the alley -

Where a small child is standing, staring curiously at the open door.

Trick freezes still, gasping, his hand clutched around Doktor’s gun.

It’s the boy from the shop, the one sitting on the counter while his grandmother checked them out. Trick realizes, distantly, that he was there when he bought this green coat.

The boy is staring at the gun at Trick’s side, fear making his eyes widen.

Trick tries to speak but can only stammer, his brain giving him no words at all. He doesn’t know what to do, and he is afraid.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Run, Trick. Just Run! The longer you stay, the worse things will get. You have everything you need! Four other asks, from florence-is-falling and three anons, gave Trick conflicting advice and were added.

Trick starts and then stops again, staggering slightly. Too many options - he’s not used to having any options at all, Anti or Red is supposed to be with him on missions, telling him what to do, making sure everything goes smoothly - this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t be happening at all, he wants to go home, he wants Doktor to hold onto him and rock him through this nightmare, until he falls asleep, and wakes up in the morning knowing it is far away -

Oh, fuck, he has to focus, he has to be brave, has to get this medicine home for Doktor, has to, has to!

“H-hi,” he manages finally, remembering your order to change his voice and quickly adopting the accent he always imagines Dapper’s signs in, clear and English. “Hi, there, love, it’s okay.”

The boy stares up at him, his little hands shaking, wrapped around a stuffed dolphin toy. He’s not well bundled up, only wearing a little coat, unzipped, for warmth. He’s perhaps seven years old. A kid this age shouldn’t be out on his own after light’s fallen, should he? And before Trick can think, the words are out of his mouth:

“Why are you out so late? Where’s Mum and Dad?”

A blush rushes up his little cold cheeks. He looks down at his dolphin, picking at its fin, mouth trembling.

“Oh,” says Trick, a little teasing now. “Snuck out, now, did we?”

“No,” squeaks the boy.

At least he speaks English.

“You’re sure?” asks Trick, slowly tucking the gun away in the hopes that the boy didn’t see it at all.

“Why were you inside the store so late?”

“Um,” stammers Trick, swallowing, trying to assert himself. “Um, well - because - because I thought someone had broken in. See how the door’s left open?”

The kid nods slowly, his face twisted up in thought.

“I was worried there was a bad guy inside,” adds Trick, nodding sharply. Okay, he can go with this. It’s a small kid. They’ve both caught each other. It’s okay. It has to be okay. This has to work. “So I went to try and stop him.”

“Ohhh,” says the boy, relaxing. “That’s why you have a gun.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“The police don’t have guns, though…”

Goddamn Europe and their safety laws. “Well,” he bullshits, his eyes flickering around desperately as he hears people walking down the streets. “I’m not a cop. I’m a - a superhero.”

The boy’s eyes widen. Excited. Wasn’t he drawing storm troopers yesterday?

“Like a Jedi,” adds Trick, nodding. “I have to use the gun because my lightsaber’s not working right now. Want to see?”

“Yeah!”

He grabs Red’s staff and pulls it out, extending it in one press of the button. He’s beginning to sweat - do you think the clock is ticking as fast as his heart beats?

“Wow,” breathes the child. “How are you going to fix it?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t talk right now. I’m in a rush. My - my brother’s in trouble. So I have to go. Okay? You need to go home to your parents, right? Shouldn’t have been sneaking out, should you? So tell you what - I won’t tell anybody that you snuck out, and then you don’t tell anybody you saw me here. Okay? Cause you know superheroes get in trouble with the police sometimes.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Please, bud,” gasps Trick. “Please, um - what’s your name, love?”

“Hunter.”

Trick stops breathing entirely.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter.

Why does he know that name - a little boy - mousy dark hair, big brown eyes, freckles and a smile on his mouth, crinkle paper and stuffed toys in baby hands, his baby, his baby, his baby -

He should have just run, or knocked him out, or threatened him, like you told him to. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s just a little boy. He’s just like his little boy.

He turns away from Hunter and takes off at a sprint, tearing along behind houses and buildings, back into the forest, sprinting, the stitch in his side gone, the pain in his chest gone, nothing remaining at all but the desperation to get home to his brother, and the memory that haunts him, the memory of a little boy all alone.

He moves faster than he’s ever moved up the pathway, branches striking across his brother’s coat. Behind him, he could swear he hears the snapping of dog’s teeth at his heel, the harsh breath of hounds hunting him down, teeth, teeth, teeth always waiting to devour, and he runs, runs, runs, even though he is beginning to lose hope that safety awaits him at the end of the road.

cest-mellow asked: dok? are you doing alright downstairs?

The camera is barely working, but someone must have restarted it. It flickers to life in shaking hands, and you see Doktor’s face.

Anti’s given him new glasses, unshattered, a bizarre show of affection preceding a torture session if Trick doesn’t hurry. He’s alone as far as you can tell, wiping slowly at his eyes as he cries steadily, breathing painfully thin.

“Can you please - ”

He pauses, swallows, restarts, water cascading down his cheeks.

“Can you please tell me if Trick is okay?”

He rubs at his cheeks. Everything he does is strangely slow - you’re pretty sure he’s too clammed up to move any faster. His voice sounds like it’s been put through a straining record player and his chest trembles with the effort of continuing to draw air.

“Anti… hasn’t… hurt me,” he wheezes. “But I think - I think I’d like - I want to go upstairs now, p-please…”

Anonymous asked: So, Marvin, hey, good to see you!! What do you remember? How do you feel?

Marvin’s sitting on top of the island, staring blankly at his hands. You’ve caught him and Red in the middle of a conversation, and his twin looks up at him with worry in his eyes from the floor.

“Umm.” Marvin is looking himself over, tugging down a strand of blue hair to see its color, opening his coat and examining his shirt and pants and jewelry. He doesn’t recognize any of it.

“I’m not even sure this is my body,” he mumbles. His hands shake minutely. Pulling back his sleeves, even Jack’s old tattoo fails to comfort him. They all have one of those. Running his hands through his hair does not give him the correct sensation - he has forgotten the tug of his long hair, but still he can feel that it is missing - he knows that the weight on his fingers is not the one he is used to, that these are not the shoes he is used to watching as he walked, that nothing is - nothing is right, nothing is - all of this - wrong, wrong, wrong -

Oh. On his wrist, there is a small flower, inked into his skin.

“Blue,” murmurs Red. “Doing okay?”

“I don’t remember anything,” whispers Marvin. “Do you?”

“I think there are flashes coming back to me… but not much.”

Marvin swallows, staring down at the flower. “Do you feel like… the person who you see in the mirror… is the wrong person?”

Red stares up at him, wearily. “Only a little,” he answers. “But the sensation is familiar.”

Marvin’s head snaps up. He stares directly at you.

“Is this how Anti always treats them?” he asks. “Sending them into terrors, threatening them for small mistakes, cutting up our hair and changing us without permission? Keeping the other boy in the attic? How long have I been here? Have I always been like this? Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Blue,” warns Red, staring frantically down at the basement. “Blue, careful what you say.”

“Because this person,” continues Marvin, ignoring him. “This person who Anti tells me I am - this is not the right person. I don’t think this is right. I don’t think Anti is right.”

“Blue,” hisses Red. “Blue, shut the fuck up. Do you want to get killed?”

But, though his memory is gone, his courage is not. And he needs to know. He has to know.

“This is not who I am.”

Anonymous asked: Trick is coming back, he's a little shaken but he's fine!

“Oh, he’s coming back, he’s coming back…”

Doktor hides his face against his knees, breathing harshly.

“Always comes back for me… H-hurry, Trick…”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: Blue!! BLUE!!??! NO! YOUR NAME IS MARVIN! MARVIN!! WE CAN'T LOSE YOU, TOO! NO! WHY... why... I - we can't... lose you, too... not you... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!! IS THIS SOME SICK WAY OF RUBBING IT IN OUR FACE!!?! I SWEAR, I WOULD MAIM YOU IF I COULD, AND I'M PRETTY SURE MARVIN FEELS THE SAME WAY! NOT BLUE, MARVIN! YOU SICK, DEMENTED PHYCOPATH!! (dapper, we might need a time rewindal...) (you did say that you would relive this day right?)

Red winces every time you say the name, covering up his ears and hissing out a warning, but Marvin only smiles, nodding slow.

“Yeah, that sounded more right than Blue when Trickshot said it… but that’s not his name either, now is it?”

oasisofgalaxies asked: I wont say your name right now if it hurts you. Blue, you were someone great, magnificent. a magician, a sorcerer with great power. You cam here because of your heart, your heart always filled with love for your brothers. You came because your brothers were in danger. You came here because Anti stole your brothers from you and turned them into people they aren't. You came here and were captured. You fought so hard, but you fell into the role Anti laid out for you. A role of shackles and chains.

Marvin stares down at his hands, thinking. “You were calling out to me days ago,” he guesses. “But I couldn’t hear you.

“A sorcerer, huh?”

Blue light flickers through his eyes. Red is beginning to look afraid. Your camera screen glitches.

“My brothers in danger…”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, you're a good person. You're a magician without his mask, but remember that underneath whatever clothes anti makes you wear or whatever name he calls you, you are Marvin and you are good.

“Good,” mumbles Marvin, thoughtful. “Strange, I… I’m not sure about that one… there’s this great self-hatred inside of my chest… But I guess goodness is a choice… and I think I’d like to choose it, if I could sort all this out… I have to sort all this out.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re a wonderful man who loves his brothers very much. And by brothers, I mean Red, Trick, Doctor, and Dapper. All of them. Not just your twin. You want to keep them safe and together. You sacrificed a lot to try and keep them safe.

“Did I? Sacrifice for them, try to keep them safe? Looks like I did a pretty fucking awful job.”

Tears spark in his eyes. He closes his eyes and his fist, grimacing as cold washes of memories return to him in blurs barely meaningful - Chase and Henrik hiding behind him, Jackie’s empty bedroom that terrible morning, Jameson dragged away from him, all his power come to nothing -

“But you’re right about one thing - all of them are my brothers. Not just Red. This is my family.”

musical-in-theory asked: You are a magnificent man who loves his brothers, all 4 of them. You are a magic man who does tricks for the delight of others. A kind man. A beautiful person who doesn’t belong in this terrible place

“Tricks?”

This brings a small smile back to Marvin’s face. “Really, like a performer? That’s wonderful. Ha, tricks… and you’re right, I am quite beautiful.”

Laughing, he tries to throw his hair, teasing, only to find it cut short again. “Ah, right… I’m Blue now…”

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you around? Are you okay? Do you know where Anti is?

Dapper’s laid out on his floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“Anti’s everywhere,” he signs dully. “I can feel him summoning up his strength. He feels… angry. You should warn my brothers to be careful. Whatever they’re doing, he doesn’t seem to like.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: You asked us to remember your name when you forgot it. And that's what we'll do, Marvin. Marvin, the Magnificent. The man who had a deeper understanding of things we'll miss you, Marv. Can I at least say goodbye? Please? Before he is truly gone forever? Bye, Marv. We'll miss you... sorry... this... is all our fault. Sorry.

Marvin stares at the ground. Red has come to stand beside him, gripping his shoulders, trying to keep him quiet.

“Maybe you should say goodbye,” he calls gently. “Give up the old name, please. I’m afraid Anti can hear you. Just - just say goodbye. Anti would like that. Yeah? You don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want - I can’t bear to see you hurt, please, please be quiet,” begs Red, shaking his shoulders. “Say goodbye, Blue, come on.”

His twin closes his eyes, trying to think.

oasisofgalaxies asked: You heard me!! You’re ok! I’m so happy, but now you have to be careful. Anti knows what you’re your up to, or at least he can sense it. Be careful Marvin. I’m worried that if he gets even more mad he’ll do something worse.

“Right, right,” murmurs Marvin. “I need to be quiet - these are his cameras - if he hears me, he could hurt Red to punish me.”

Anonymous asked: I'm with Red on this, Marvin, be very careful what you say and ask. There are eyes and ears everywhere. But no, Blue is not who you are. Anti is lying to you. You might recognize some names - cover your ears if it helps, Red - Jackie, Henrik, Chase, or Jameson? Jack?

Marvin looks up, his eyes full of light.

He wants to say the names out loud, so much it’s almost painful to hold them back, but another look at Red, distressed at his side, stops him short. Squeezing his twin��s hand, he quiets, thoughtful.

“We should change the subject,” he murmurs.

He looks up at Red. “Enough about me,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Red pauses, his eyes flickering around anxiously.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says. “I’m just… Red.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, just take everything as it comes okay? I'm saying this for your sake and your family's. We want to about a family field trip to the basement. Your name is Blue and what's important is what's here now. We can't worry about what's past.

Marvin swallows, clinging to Red’s sweatshirt. “Right, right… okay, yeah. I’m - I’m Blue now.”

He closes his eyes as though in pain, but only for a moment, because Red’s relief is enough to reassure him.

“There you go,” cries Red, pulling him into a crushing hug, which makes Blue laugh. “Fuck, now stop saying stupid things!”

Blue tries to shove him away, laughing hard. “Hey, fine, fine! Asshole, get off me!”

“I will not, you’re too stupid to be left alone - ”

Blue hugs him back, chuckling.

With his arms wrapped around his neck, Red thinks he remembers something, vaguely - a younger man in a cat mask, clutched tight to his chest, warm days at home, just the two of them, and then their joy, later, as their little house filled up…

He closes his eyes, pushing away its comfort. The past does not matter and to rejoice in it is dangerous. What matters is here and now. And what he has, here and now, is a family all its own. He can’t let the past matter. He can’t let himself remember. Blue’s hands are warm on his neck.

Your screen glitches.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey guys? Not to cut the sweetness sesh short or anything, but I'd be on your guard. Dapper is worried for you guys. Can you sense anything down there?

Blue and Red glance around, concerned, still holding each other’s arms.

But nothing seems to move.

Everything is quiet.

Still, they both get the sense that something has changed.

Footsteps in the hallway above them.

They exchange glances, confused.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, everything's okay here! Just Blue and Red, hanging out, being goofs. Nothing to see! Maybe you guys can go to the window and watch for Trick for a bit, since he's on an errand and not on watch?

“Sure,” says Blue, swallowing. “Um, yeah. Inconspicuous, right?”

He ends up too tired to get up the three little stairs to the nest, his stitches aching painfully, but Red manages to get up and sit beside the window, watching for his brother.

Anonymous asked: Can you guys be ready for Trick when he comes home? I don't want the door being locked or something stupid like that tripping him up...

“Okay,” agrees Blue, limping to the door and pulling it open. He sits down on the porch and waits, hopeful.

“I don’t expect he’s got much time left.”

Anonymous asked: Trick: *steals child* this is mine now

“I wish I could tell you,” pants Trick, drawing near to home. “That I wasn’t fucking tempted.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Marv, Blue if it keeps you safe, you should keep an eye on Trick when he gets back. He met a boy called Hunter. Not /Hunter/ Hunter obviously (I assume he's safe with his mum and sister) but it almost stirred a memory in Trick. If anything happens and he begins to properly remember, I'm sure he'd appreciate his brother trying to be there for him as best he can. I mean, I'm saying all this and I'm not even sure you remember who Hunter is.

“Oh, no… I don’t remember who Hunter is, but I think I get the gist. I’ll keep an eye on him… that’s all I can do, right? I’ll ask him how he is, keep an eye on him.”

Anonymous asked: Trick are you running? How close are you? Similar asks from florenceisfalling and cest-mellow were added.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Do I still have time?”

He’s panting hard, but there, in the distance, he sees Blue, sitting on the stairs. His brother rises as he approaches, calling for him.

“Yeah, I got it!” he cries, rocketing up the porch and practically leaping into the house, brushing past Blue. “I got it, I got it! Where’s master?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t seen him - ”

Trick yanks open the door to the basement and sprints down the stairs, sliding slightly on old blood. He finds Doktor curled up against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, shaking hard, but he doesn’t see Anti. He pauses to give his twin a quick kiss, promising him, “I got it, I got it, he won’t hurt you now!” before dashing back up the stairs.

“Where is he, where is he?” he cries, staring frantically around. “Anti, Anti, I got the - ”

Blue grabs his shoulders tightly, silencing him by his intensity. His vivid ocean eyes are fixed on the staircase.

Trick turns his eyes to look too.

Steps come down the stairs. Red, Blue, and Trick watch uncertainly as the silhouette appears.

“Dapper?” asks Trick softly.

Dapper’s body is at the bottom step.

Anti shakes his head no, slowly.

“Oh,” stammers Trick, backing up slightly against Blue’s chest. “Okay, um…”

Anti wears Dapper looser than he did Red. There is no stiffness, no scars, no pain. Dapper’s body fits him well. He tugs up the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt, complete with a bowtie, and reaches out an empty hand.

Panting roughly, Trick holds out the Haloperidol. The pills tremble in his fingers and steady in Dapper’s.

Anti regards them coolly, his head tilted. Curls of light brown hair tumble into ink and pitch eyes.

He turns to go, waving a disinterested hand at the basement. Trick, nearly wheezing, sorts his priorities out and decides not to question, darting back down the stairs to get his twin.

“Anti?” asks Red, summoning his courage.

Anti pauses, turning to look at him.

“Not questioning, sir,” says Red softly. “But is there a reason I should know about that made you decide to, um… wear… Dap?”

Fear and rage burn in Blue’s throat like vodka as he stares at the monster wearing his baby brother. A recollection awakens in his chest - Jameson, less haggard but no younger, curled up against his chest, teaching him sign language with careful, patient movements of his hands, laughing sweetly every time Marvin messed up. He swallows hard, squeezing tight his trembling hands, feeling magic curl like dragon-fire against his palms.

Anti turns and looks directly at him.

Looks directly at Marvin.

And then he turns around, in silence, and heads back up the stairs.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I hope one day you realize, Anti, that this isn't how you show love. There is a HUGE difference between love and control.

Anti is shadowed in darkness. He moves up the stairs, looking up at you.

“Maybe,” he signs. “But the difference no longer matters.”

End Section Four of Chapter One.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

#abuse tw #torture tw #pharmacy break-in #chapter 1

26 notes · View notes

mha-fanfic-writer · 4 years

Text

Dealing with an ex

Bakugou x Reader

TRIGGER WARNING

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

SELF HARM

ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP(not with bakugou with monoma)

“Can you leave me alone.”you mumbled under you breath looking down. ”Do you want me to punish you (Y/N).”you looked up with terror in your eyes.He really wasn’t giving up.”I told you i want to break up”you said taking a step back.He grabbed your arm and pulled you to his dorm.You knew what was happening,so when you went into the 1-B dorms and got some weird looks,you just looked down at the floor as you walked with him.When you had made it to his dorm you begged him not to but he did any way.you cried and cried. He was beating you.”you need a punishment for trying to leave me.”Please stop I promise i wont do it again.He stopped.”Fine go to your dorm and don't tell anybody.You nodded.You and monama had been dating sense middle school you wanted to break up now be he wouldn't let you.You walked out of his dorm hiding your face,You had so many bruises on your body.Today you had lash marks on your back ,a bleeding lip and a bruise on your face.You had to tell your friends that you messed up trying to train.You walked back into the 1-A dorms.When you were walking to your dorm the common room had all your classmates talking yelling and laughing.You wished you could stay but you just walked past.of course the baku squad saw you they were your closest friends.”Hey (Y/N) were were y-OH MY GOSH WHAT HAPPEN”Mina said running up to you.this got the attention of the whole class.You put on a fake smile and said your usual lie. “I was training and screwed up a move. Im fine-” “bullshit”you were cut of by bakugou lifting your head to get a better look at your face. “someone did this to you,you come back everyday with a new bruise or cut with the same damn excuse. These injures arent from training someone did it.”He said crossing his arms over his chest.”No they were from training”you said trying to hide the surprise in your voice.”oh really so your back bleeding from something hitting you 3 times is training.”he said turning your back towards him.The whole class was watching all worried.”SHIT”is all you said you tried running but bakugou grabbed you arm.You didn't like that it made you think he was going to hurt you.you started crying “PLEASE DONT HURT ME AGAIN I LL DO ANYTHING.”you were on your knees crying.He let go of your arm.The whole class was in shock one of the toughest people they knew was crying on there knees almost begging for there life.the baku squad knelled down to your level.”who did this”Kirisham asked.worry on his face. “ I-I cant s-say h-ell hurt me a-again.” you stuttered.they didn't know you were dating anybody much less Monama. You got up an ran to your dorm room and locked the door.You had promised that you wouldn't do this anymore to yourself but your mom she was gone now.You heard banging on the door you told them that you will be out in a little just give you 2 hours.the banging stopped. You opened your a book,well something that looked like a book it was actually a box.You pulled out a blade and did what you needed to do.Once you were done with that you took of your clothes let your shirt souk in hot water to get the blood off of the shirt.you looked at your body and then looked at your back.The cuts were deep.It looked like a lion had dragged there claws across your back.You didn't expect them to be tat bad but it is what it is.When you got into the shower you felt the burn on your wounds. You covered your mouth trying to yell from the sting.After you were done you looked at your cuts on your arm.They were deep these weren't the only ones there you others from different times still scabbed. You but on a light pink sweater with some jeans wanting to cover your legs and also because your sweats were being washed.you brushed your hair and put it a ponytail your bangs falling on the sides of your face.It had been 2 hours so you knew you had to go out.You opened your door slowly. Once the cost was clear you went to the kitchen.You managed to get passed the common room not being seen.When you passed by you saw everybody sitting on the couch waiting for you.They were worried.Even bakugou and todoroki. When you were in the kitchen you opened the fridge grabbed and apple and when you closed the door you saw a very angry bakugou standing there arms crossed and all. “come on.”you fallowed him leaving the apple on the counter.When you were in the common room everybody was looking at you.”ok mineta isn't here and denki said he could handle it.”Bakugou said taking a seat you sat next to him.”Take off your sweater let us see your cuts.”you didn't want to but you knew you had to other wise he wouldn't stop telling you something,so slowly you took off the sweater when bakugou saw the wounds he was shocked.When everybody saw the shock in his eyes along with worry they knew it was bad. they all got up and looked.You could here some of the girls crying and the guys were just quiet even midoriya was quit. you hid your arms in your lap. “turn around” you heard bakugou say in his monotone voice.You did as he said you were looking down,tears were rolling down your face.He slowly went to grab your arm when hes hand was in your sight and you saw what he wanted to look at,so you just pulled your arms further in between your legs.His eyes widened. “Please i want to help you”He said his tone more caring than usual.Yes bakugou was an asshole most of the time he knew that stuff like this shouldn't be taken lightly.you were about to show him when there was a knock on the doors of the 1-A dormitory. Midoriya went to open the door the next thing you heard was midoriya saying “Monama WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE” when you heard that you grabbed you sweater and went to the door.”Hey what are you doing here”you said in confused and worried tone.”Oh nothing i just wanted to check on you because I saw you were hurt after you were doing some extra training.”He said with a smile looking at you in the eyes as if to intimidate you.”Oh yeah sorry for making you worry we were just having uh..a meeting about school and studying.”you said calmly with a warm smile.If there something you knew how to do it was faking everything.you learned how after the first month if dating him when it all started.He smiled and hugged you patting your back on purpose to see your reaction.Your eyes widened at the sudden contact he then pushed a finger into the wound and whispered”don't tell,love you” you nodded in response. Blinking back the tears.He let go and left. Midoriya saw the whole interaction he didn't notice him hurt you though.You two walked back to the couches.The class was waiting there still bakugou got up.he walked over towards you stopped in front of you.You looked at him and saw what he was looking at.You could see he wanted to see your arms.You lifted your arms knowing that the truth would come out eventually. You pulled your sleeves up.when he saw what you did he called the rest of the bakusquad over.when they saw it they started counting then mina took out a permanent marker and rote 15 on top of your arms.they lifted up there sleeves even bakugou. They all had numbers on there arms.then you saw some scars on all of there arms that were from cuts.the scars were faint but still noticeable. They gave you a smile except bakugou he just looked at you and you could see that he cared in his eyes.you felt tears roll down your face.They gave you a hug.When you guys got back to your places he asked you 1 question. “When did this start all the scars and everything.” he said bluntly.You looked up.”the first year of middle school.” Once again he was shocked.So was the rest of the class.After that very few things changed they always asked if you were ok and occasionally asked you if you ready to talk about who was doing this to you.you were never planing on telling them so the response was “no, not yet.”But with monama things just got worse everyday the beating went from once a week to every 2 days to every single day.It had been one year seance that whole conversation with the class and now you guys were second years you were still going through it, the winter was the worst. Monama spent everyday with you if you said or did something wrong he would hit you.When you went back to school you were pretty much emotionless.the fire in your eyes was completely gone the person they thought was one of the bravest was completely broken.When you walked into the classroom you didn't have any expression on your face.Th class looked at you they’ed never seen you like this.You just bowed and said “Apologizing for being late sensei” this threw him off guard because before you were so lively he told you to sit at your desk staring in disbelief.Yes aizawa could be cold but he was worried.You took your seat witch was the one in front of bakugous.you guys were training for the class it was supposed to be to see how far your quirks were since the last training last year.You were going up ageist kirishima .when aizawa blew the whistle you had no problem beating him 10 seconds in.your quirk was way better than before. Kirishima was suprised.you stopped your quirk and helped him up.When he grabbed your hand he could feel it ice cold.Then he noticed something he didn't before you had bags under your eyes and you looked pale.He was scared not of you but of what happen to you.After training you avoided everybody. You went directly to monama. Who put his arm in between yours and back in his pocket walking with his friends. Kendo was a bit worried but when she asked you smiled and told her you were fine. Tetsutetsu was the only one who knew what was going on but was threatened by monama to the point were he kept his mouth shut.He didn't like what he was ding or what monama was doing to you but he didn't do anything.Every time someone tried to talk to you,yo ran to monama.he patted you no the head and said he loved you but you weren't sure he did.You fell out of love with him years ago.This time he was mad because he found out what the conversation was about when he went to check on you last year.”So you decided to tell them you were getting hurt by someone.huh did you tell them it was me.”he asked pushing you ageist the wall in his dorm.You simply shook your head.He kept you there and punched you in your stomach your face he kissed you but he was biting your lip so hard to the point were it was bedding. You didn't cry and he didn't like that.He took a knife from his drawer turned you around lifted up your shirt and cut open the scars from last year.this earned a yell from you you didn't like it at all.”PLEASE STOP PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU IT HURTS.”you begged and begged but he didn't stop he tied a something around you neck it was suffocating you and you couldn't breath you passed out when you woke up you were on his ben and he was looking at you still mad.He kicked you out of his room .Literally. When you were out side of his room your shirt was bloody and your neck and a red mark around it.When yo looked up you saw tetsutetsu there he was shocked but you got up and asked in a monotone voice “do you have a turtleneck i can use preferably black.” he nodded went back to his dorm and gave it to you.when you went back to your dorm you walked into the common room there you saw people crying.holding each other.”what happen guys”you asked looking at them.They looked at you in disgust. they ignored you and looked away all except for bakugou. When they did this your heart hurt.You didn't think you could feel worse than you already did.Your eyes turned gray you were empty now this was a side affect of your quirk depending on what you felt. you forgot about the pain in your heart.You bowed “I'm sorry for being a burden on all of you guys. ill leave now.” you walked to your room. When you lied on your bed. “Maybe I should die and everybody would be happy.” you said to yourself. “yeah that's best, ill do it tomorrow.” you plugged in your head phones to your phone and listened to music this is how you maintained your sanity.You slowly drifted off to sleep.When you woke up you were late you didn't care though you just put on your uniform and walked to school building.When you walked in you heard whispers from everybody.It didn't bother you.You made your way to the roof at lunch.you took off your shoes and let your hair down.It stated raining and the wind picked up for once you felt at peace.you climbed the fence that want relay that high you sat on it ready to say goodbye. “Goodbye guys i hope your happy now.”you jumped off but you felt something grab your arm.you looked up it was bakugou.”What are you doing here bakugou” you said looking up at him.When your eyes met his you could see the anger the fear the worry the sadness.He pulled you up. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING (Y/N) you don't deserve this,don't you know nobody will ever understand the person you are learn to hold your own hand get your shit together you'll never be what you want not with that face.”he then pulled you in and hugged you.When he looked into your eyes he started crying. “hey its ok dont cry it will be fine” you say putting your hand on his head.He looks at you,you feel something,you don't know what it is but you feel something. He then says, “Im sorry for what im about to do” he said cuffing your face in his hands.He then leans in and kisses you it was a tender kiss.His lips were soft at that moment you felt happy.You closed your eyes and then opened them the color was back,the flame in your eyes returning. You moved you hands to his neck messing with the hair on the back of his neck he then moves his hands to you waist pulling you closer.Once you break apart.You start to cry and hug him.”Thank you” is all you said before pulling him back in for another kiss.You guys staid together for the rest of the day.When you guys went to the common room you were on bakugou's back sleeping your face berried in his neck. He put you on the couch.The rest of the class was surprised.”Bakugou what are doing why are you with(Y/N).”Bakugou then proceeds to tell them what happened on the roof.Midoriya started to cry and so did the some of the others.Bakugou then walked up to you and shook you awake.When you opened your eyes you saw the class there staring at you.you were scared so you turned your back to them bakugou sat on the edge of the couch playing with your hair. “Are they gonna hurt me” you asked looking up at him “No” you got up pulling bakugou up on the couch hiding behind him peaking over his shoulder. “Ok” you responded in a quit voice.They all bowed and apologized to you for hurting you even more.You forgave them. “ ok look I know you wont want to talk about this but you have to.” bakugou said looking at you holding your hand.you nodded.You took a deep breath and explained everything to them when you first started dating monama to the beating to you trying to break up with him the fact that tetsutetsu knew to monama opening your wounds again last night and everything.Bakugou was angry sad hurt and worried.Once you were done he picked you up sat you on his lap and lifted your shirt to see that the wounds had been reopened.He got up he told you to get on his back and you did he said you guys were going to confront him and get him out of the school you were scared so you just stayed quit.you were on 5″0 and he was 5′7 you were really light and short for your age.You told him to wait then you got off of his back ran to your room got a blanket and rapped it around you ran back out and got on his back he tied the corners around his chest and waist that way you were completely hidden.The whole class was planing on going and they did.When once you guys made it to the 1-B dorms the one who opened was keno she was surprised to see all of the class there.She let you in.And there in the common room was there whole class.When monamas eyes landed on you you hid your head in the blanket.”whats up class A” tetsutetsu said “your super unmanly bro” kirishima said. “you need to show them (Y/N)”bakugou said you sighed and slipped out of the blanket.Bakugou nodded at you.you turned around facing him and took off your shirt so the others could see the wounds.The whole class looked in shock and gasped.Monama was going to play it off as if he didn't know asked “how did that happen babe.”well instead of being scared you snaped.you turned and looked at him “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY WHAT HAPPEND,YOU DID THIS TO ME.YOU ARE THE REASON I WAS IN PAIN YOU ARE THE REASON I JUMPED OFF THE ROOF,IF BAKUGU WASN'T THERE I WOULD BE DEAD AND IT WOULD BE YOUR FAULT.I WANTED TO BREAK UP WITH YOU A MONTH AFTER WE STARTED DATING BUT YOUR DUMBASS FORCED ME TO STAY WITH YOU FOR ALL THESE YEARS.YOU BROKE ME.I WAS AVOIDING MY FRIENDS BECAUSE OF YOU,BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO GET HURT BUT THERE REALLY WAS NO ESCAPE TO GETTING HURT WITH YOU.I DIDN'T LET PEOPLE TOUCH ME BECAUSE I WAS SO AFRAID OF WHAT YOU DID I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO DO THE SAME.I AM SO STUPID FOR EVER TRUSTING YOU.i NEVER LOVED YOU I NEVER EVEN LIKED YOU.AND I NEVER WILL YOU FUCKING BASTARD.”you lifted up your sleeves.”I HOPE YOUR HAPPY WITH YOURSELF AFTER ALL OF THIS.YOU KICKED,PUNCHED,CUT,AND BURNED ME FOR EVERYTHING I DID.”he was quit after that kendo spoke up tears in her eyes you two were close you her and monoma had gone to middle school together.”how could you”is all she said.Bakugou was surprised because you weren't one to yell a lot or cuss.Bakugou gave you your sweater.and you put it on.He then started walking towards the monoma. “I don't want you to EVER come near them ever again understood because if i see you enen 10 feet near them i wont hesitate to blow your ass all the way to the moon.”He said in a harsh threatening tone lingering over monoma. You know what just forget about me”monoma said. “how am i supposed to forget you when everytime i go outside i see thing that remind me of you like garbage mins and dog shit”you said with a evil smirk crossing your arms over your chest.That earned laughter from everybody except him.He walked out but nobody noticed that ida went to get the teachers,so when he opened the door he was greeted by a very very angry aizawa.Apparently ida had told the teachers everything you and bakugou said and did plus what he witnessed.Tetsutetsu apologise for not saying anything.You ruffled his hair and said that you didn't mind he wanted to be safe himself along with his family which is what monama said he was going to do something to his family.Kirishima said he was taking points off for not telling him at least but forgave him too.After you all went back to the dorms,recovery girl came to heal yo as best she could.The next day when you woke up you wanted to tell bakugou how you felt about him.But he beat you to it.When you walked out of your dorm he was there.He pulled you close to him by your waist and kissed yo it lasted longer than the other ones you shared with him.you both pulled away to catch your breath. “I love you” is all he said “I love you too”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fanfiction #katsuki #smut #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia

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narika-a · 5 years

Text

Slipped From My Grasp

[Part 1] [Part 2]

A/N1: It’s been too long but I’m finally back with the next part!! 🙏

Agent!Bang Chan x Gang Leader!Reader

Summary: Getting caught by the police was the last thing on your schedule, yet somehow you always end up in the most unfortunate situations.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, suggestive

Warnings: Violence, strong language, suggestive content

Word count: 3,971

“He’s pretty brave to dare peep at me while I’m changing,” you thought as your eyes met. But one gaze was all it took for him to get flustered and quickly leave the room. Just what you needed…

You wasted no time coming up to the window again. You had to put a bit more effort than expected but eventually you got it open, a strong gust of wind greeting you. Dark clouds were starting to gather, you reckoned it’s going to rain soon. You looked around outside the window for a possible escape route. It won’t take long for him to notice you missing, so you don’t have much time and you doubt you’re going to get all the way to the ground, so you had to come up with something and fast. And then a brilliant idea came to your head, instead of going down immediately you can go up – on the roof. You will figure out what to do from there.

You felt like teasing Chan though, so you picked up a marker you found in one on the drawers and left a message on the nail you used to escape before.

Then you sat down on the windowsill and reached for the nearest pipe. You didn’t have a fear of heights but right now you were starting to doubt it. Will you be able to hold on with these wounds? You have to try, you can’t just sit here waiting to get locked up. You took your socks off, so your feet would stick better to the metal. You positioned yourself and on the count of three pushed away from the sill. Your palms were sweating like crazy but somehow you managed to attach yourself to the pipe and started going up. You reached the edge of the roof and hoped that your hands won’t let you down now as you pulled up.

“I’m alive!” you thought as you lay down. You heard Chan shouting something from below, but you couldn’t understand what due to the wind. You stared at the clouds as the first drops of rain touched your face. You wiped them off and sat up. It would be nice to rest a little bit longer but at the moment rest is a luxury you can’t afford.

Normally hospitals like these should have an emergency ladder at least a few floors down. You got on your fours, so nobody would notice you from the ground and made your way to the back, searching for it. It seems today was your lucky day as the ladder practically went all the way down. You looked around one last time and started descending. You jumped off the last few steps and quickly hid in the alley between the nearby buildings. You heard the police sirens in the distance and realized you couldn’t stay here much longer. You have to move.

You were lucky this was an urban area with plenty of places to hide. You had a vague idea which part of the city you might be in but nothing concrete. It seems you will have to rely on your instincts once more to get out of here.

It was about fifteen minutes since you got out. You had no idea where you were going but you haven’t stopped since. The rain has gotten stronger and you were drenched. Your hands and feet were freezing, and you regretted your decision not to put on any shoes. You lifted your shirt to look at the wound. It didn’t look good and all this running was not making it better.

You leaned your head on the wall, trying to catch your breath when you heard voices around the corner. You quickly pressed yourself against the building, hoping whoever was talking didn’t notice you. You glanced around the corner and saw two people exchanging a few words before splitting up. The one closer to you turned around and started coming in your direction. You noticed the police badge on his shoulder. So, they caught up with you.

You have no choice but to take him out. You clenched your hand into a fist and noticed that it was trembling. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or the adrenaline rushing through your body. It was too late to search for a weapon, you will have to go for his neck.

As soon as he got close enough you jumped out of your hiding spot, getting him into a chokehold. He reacted immediately, going backwards and slamming you into the wall but you managed to hold on. He started fumbling with his holster with one hand, trying to take his gun out while the other gripped onto yours in an attempt to get some air but you tightened your hold and he finally passed out.

You dropped his body to the ground, resting against the wall, breathing deeply. You had to gather all your strength not to faint yourself. You could feel your body was reaching its limits. Your head spun from the hit and when you looked down at your shirt you noticed some blood stains. You wiped your nose and realized it was bleeding. That’s never a good sign.

After a few more minutes you staggered to the body, you had to hide it before anyone else noticed. You grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him to the alley you were hiding in. You sat him up near some trash bins and checked his pulse. Still alive. Good. You could now see that he was a handsome young guy, probably no older than you.

“What a pretty face,” you thought to yourself, taking his gun out. “Sorry, nothing personal,” you said out loud, standing up. You checked the gun’s magazine. To your surprise it was fully loaded. Jackpot.

Now where did the other guy go? He might be coming back to check on his buddy, so you have to be careful. You went along the wall and peeked around the corner you last saw him. The coast was clear. You examined your surrounding area. It seems you were in some kind of school territory. There was a fence going along the outer edge. You could see trees beyond it. A park? A forest? That mattered little, trees give a good cover, especially when it’s dark and with a terrible weather like this you decided that is your best option.

Problem is, you had to cross a stadium to get to the fence and being in such a big open field made you an easy target, so you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

You glanced around one last time, said ‘fuck it’ and sprinted for it. You jumped up once you were near the fence, grabbing the top with your hands and started pulling yourself up, your feet slipping on the wet wood. Just as you got a good grip a bullet pierced the fence’s board right where you left hand was just a second ago. If you hadn’t moved it then, you would probably be missing a few fingers.

“Stop or I will shoot!” somebody shouted behind you. You recognized that voice.

“Shouldn’t you say that before shooting?” you asked, frozen in your spot, half way up the fence.

“Get down!” he shouted again.

You could barely hold on as it is, so it didn’t take long for your hands to give up on you, you slipped down the fence, your back to him. You looked down at your waist, where you propped the gun you took earlier. You doubt he saw you have it, you could…

“Turn around!”

You would need to be fast but it’s possible.

“I said turn around, hands in the air where I can see them!”

He didn’t need to repeat himself for the third time as you turned around whipping the gun out and pulling the trigger. Chan ducked to the side, but nothing came out. You forgot to pull the damn safety!

“Drop it!” Chan said, standing up straight again. He was soaking wet, his white shirt sticking to his body. He brushed his hair back and you have no idea why, but you noticed they were not curly anymore.

“Now now, Mr Bang, I’m sure we can compromise here,” you said, raising your hands, stumbling backwards. “That’s strange,” you thought as you bumped into the fence. You had trouble keeping your balance.

“I have no time to play, so you either drop your gun or I shoot you.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you smirked but he didn’t answer.

“Y/N, I swear to god, drop the damn gun!” he ordered you again, after a brief silence.

“I could say the same thing to you!” somebody said, setting his gun against the back of Chan’s head. “And I won’t be repeating.”

Chan hesitated but then unwillingly threw the gun away and the guy took his hands and tied them behind his back, pushing him forwards so he would kneel down.

“Minho!” you exclaimed once you recognized him. You were more than happy to see him.

“You dumb dumb don’t call me by my real name!”

You chuckled slumping down on the ground. Somehow you were really tired.

“Y/N!” Minho called you. “What did you do to her?!” he shouted, nudging Chan’s head with his gun.

“We didn’t do anything. She was like that when they found her,” he explained calmly, seemingly unphased by the situation he’s in.

“Okay, I’m done with you,” Minho sighed, clicking the safety.

“Wait!” you shouted. “Don’t kill him!”

“Why not? He’s been hot on your heels for years now, what better opportunity to get rid of him than now?”

“But he saved me! I want us to be even!”

Minho stared at you, his teeth clenched. Your eyes wandered to Chan, a small smile playing on his lips, as he looked at you. What an idiot! It’s not like you’re getting soft on him.

“Minho!” you focused back on him, you really are not used to saying stuff like that, but it seems he won’t back off unless you do. “That’s an order,” you said strictly.

He clicked his tongue and lowered the gun and you sighed in relief, but he lifted it again, whacking Chan across his head, knocking him out.

“What? You don’t want him following us, do you?” he asked, coming up to you as you rolled your eyes.

But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long and as soon as he was close enough you pulled him by the hand and hugged him tightly.

“I thought you were dead!” you sniffled as you buried your face in his neck.

“Why would I be dead?” he chuckled, wrapping his hands around you. “People like me don’t die.”

He pulled back after a few seconds and wiped your wet hair away from your face.

“We were so worried about you though! We should have found you sooner. If anything happened to you I…”

“Why would anything happen to me?” you giggled, repeating what he said before. “People like me don’t die.”

“I don’t think you can say that in this condition,” he chuckled, eyeing you up. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you on the forehead and before you could comment anything lifted you up from the ground. “Let’s get out of here.”

You leaned your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He really is alive, huh? You smiled to yourself, you could finally relax.

▲▼▲▼▲

Bang Chan’s POV

“Chan! Bang Chan!” somebody shook me. “I said wake up!” he slapped me across my face.

“Huh?! What?” I jumped up immediately. “Where am I?” I frantically looked around, still not fully awake.

“Relax,” Jisung laughed. “You’re back in the HQ. We found you snoozing in the rain. Did you had a good nap?” he teased me.

I put my hand on my stinging cheek.

“Did you just slap me?” I asked, ignoring his previous remarks.

“Sorry, but I always wanted to do that,” he chuckled and immediately took a few steps back. Wise move. “You better get moving, the assistant director is waiting for you in his office.”

“Which one?”

Jisung just gave me an understanding look and sat down at his desk.

“Changbin…” I sighed, throwing the blanket away and standing up. “How long was I out?”

“Not sure…” he looked at the clock. “You body temperature was pretty low when they found you, so you were probably out there for at least one to two hours, so hmm, maybe six hours in total?”

“Six hours!!” I shouted. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up sooner?”

“Well they tried but I,” he said, setting his hand on his chest near his heart. “As a very professionally trained doctor convinced them to let you rest.”

“Oh my god!” I couldn’t believe this kid. Six hours? It will be practically impossible to find her now.

“Hey! You will thank me later! You really needed that rest. How is your head, by the way?”

“It’s fine!” I replied, storming out. I stretched my wrists on the way to the office, I could still see marks from when I was tied up. I only now realized that I was wearing a sweater. Jisung… Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh on him.

I turned the corner and stopped in front of the office. I’m really not in the mood to hear how I screwed up but it’s all part of my work. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Sorry,” I said, coming in. “Did you call for me?”

Changbin glanced at me from his paperwork and gestured for me to take a seat. I’m not going to lie, I hated this guy’s guts, he was younger than me, yet already had the position of an assistant director. And he got it quicker than anyone else before him!

He continued to write for a few more minutes and I just sat there in silence, not knowing where to begin. Just as I managed to create a coherent sentence in my head, he closed the file loudly and pushed it away.

“You lost her,” he folded his hands in front of him and leaned in closer. “Twice!” he spoke more loudly now. “In one fucking day!” he shouted.

“Let me explain!.. Sir,” I added after a brief pause.

“Explain! There is nothing to be explained! I don’t need your excuses! You were appointed to her case because you asked so yourself and so far, I have seen no progress!”

“That’s because-“

“Don’t interrupt me! The board expected better from you, there has been a lot of close calls and they all ended up exactly the same, with her fucking escaping! And…” he stopped, as if a thought just popped in his head. “How come you’re still alive? She tied you up but didn’t kill you? Are you working with her?!”

“What!?” I almost chocked. “How the hell should I know why!”

“Right…” he sighed and closed his eyes. An uncomfortable silence stood between us. “Bang Chan, one more major screw up like this and you will be dismissed from the case,” he said looking straight at me.

“But I-“

“No buts! Now get out of my face! I expect a full report on what happened by tomorrow morning!”

I opened my mouth to protest but decided to shut up and not make him even more angry. I turned around and left the room without saying a word.

“Fuck!” I hissed through gritted teeth. I had her in my grasp and she managed to slip yet again. I wanted to shout and punch somebody but had to control myself. I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts.

I have no leads on her. Not anymore. She could be anywhere and with that condition I doubt she will make her move any time soon. Which sucks for me! I had to work fast if I want to keep my position. Anyhow, first things first, I have to get back to my office.

I went around the corner and bumped into someone.

“Ah sorry-“

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” Juyeon brushed me off.

What a prick. I hated his division the most. They thought they are all high and mighty just because they had more qualified members.

Now that I think about it. I did find him knocked out in that alleyway, so she got to both of us, huh? I laughed at this realization, I wonder why she didn’t kill him either.

“Did you sleep well?” I shouted after him and he just turned around and showed me the middle finger. I chuckled, it’s always nice to tease him.

I watched him push the door of the entrance with more force than needed and leave the building. His appearance from behind reminded me of someone.

Wait…

There is one more lead. Felix!

“Chan!” Jisung called me down the corridor. Waving for me to come back. “There is a call for you.”

“Who’s calling?” I asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know, he insisted on talking to you. He said, he has some information on Stray Kids.”

▲▼▲▼▲

You lay in your bed listening to the sound of the rain. It was pitch black outside. You looked at the clock on the wall in front of you. 2 am. You must have fallen asleep.

You vaguely remember dreaming about something. A funeral? Your father’s? No, he was there right beside you and you were still little. Strange…

You turned to your side and checked out the room. You were pretty sure you were in one of the many hideouts your gang had. The room was dimly lit by a lonely lamp on the desk at the end of it.

You felt cold and dizzy, probably caught a cold but you couldn’t stay still, you had to find out what happened. You brushed the blankets you were practically wrapped in away and sat up. You found some socks laying around and put them on, only now realizing your clothes had been changed. Again.

“Minho…” you sighed in embarrassment. You didn’t want to think who else saw you naked in the last few days.

You found some pain killers on the nightstand and decided to take a few pills. You set the water glass down and picked up the gun laying near it.

“Oh, it’s the one from before,” you spoke to yourself, examining it. It had some beautiful carvings on one of its side you didn’t notice when you took it. You brushed your finger over it. Custom made? Your eyes stopped on one of the signs. It looked oddly familiar. No way!

You jumped up and ran to the window, taking the hoodie off. You pulled your shirt down, revealing your shoulder tattoo. You looked at its reflection carefully. You traced it with your eyes until you found it. One of the signs on the gun matched your tattoo.

“What the hell?..”

You heard somebody talking and immediately turned around. The door to your room was slightly open and the voices could be heard coming from somewhere inside the house. You instinctively hid behind the door and listened.

“What the hell am I doing?” you thought, realizing how stupid you must look right now, hiding in your own house. Well not exactly your house but…

You brushed the thoughts away and stepped outside, following the voices. You don’t know why but you still took the gun with you.

There was a faint light coming from the room down the corridor. You approached it as silently as possible, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“And?” you heard Minho ask. “Still nothing?.. I don’t know how we are going to explain everything to her. We fucked up! We should have-”

“Minho! You need to pull yourself together! We got her back, so we should focus on that right now!”

That voice! You pushed the door open and both of them reached for their guns.

“Y/N?!” he stopped midway.

“Felix!” you practically jumped on him, wrapping your hands around his neck, almost making him tumble backwards.

“Whoa whoa, what’s this all about?” he laughed, not knowing where to put his hands. He looked at Minho and he just shrugged.

“I’m so glad, oh my god-“ you sniffled. Tears threatening to spill out as everything that happened finally caught up with you. Seeing him here gave you hope that everyone else is okay too.

“Hey hey hey, don’t start crying now, that’s so not like you,” he said, finally hugging you back.

“I’m not crying you idiot,” you pushed him away, wiping a few tears off. “As if I would cry for somebody like you!”

“Ouch that’s harsh! You hurt my feelings Y/N!”

You stared at him for a few more seconds and then hugged him again.

“Y/N it’s starting to become creepy, since when are you so clingy,” he teased you.

“Shut up and let me enjoy this.”

“No, Y/N he’s right. You’re the idiot here. What are you even doing up? You should stay in bed, you had a really high fever,” Minho pitched in setting his hand on your forehead. “Jesus! You’re burning up!”

“What can I say I’m a hot woman!”

You never saw somebody roll their eyes in perfect synchronization before.

“I hoped you haven’t forgotten who is in charge here! You have no right to tell me what to do and I say I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell happened!” you stomped your foot.

Minho and Felix exchanged glances, but you had no clue what they were thinking.

“What?! Tell me! Where are the others? Are they okay?”

“It’s complicated,” Felix answered.

“Complicated? How can it be complicated! Just give me a damn answer!”

“Y/N you need to calm down!”

“No, you don’t understand he… He tried to kill me! He might be after the others too!” you suddenly gasped, realizing something. He couldn’t have pulled off everything on his own, what if they are working together! Why else wouldn’t they tell you?

“Can I even trust you?!” you pulled out your gun, pointing it at Minho and then at Felix. “Well?!” you shouted. Is everyone going to betray you?

“Y/N what the fuck are you babbling about? Of course, you can trust us! We promised your father!” Minho finally said. “Don’t be stupid, put down the fucking gun!”

“And so did he but…” you were interrupted by the doorbell.

Using the opportunity that you got distracted for a split second, Felix snatched the gun away and seized your hands behind your back, pulling you towards him.

You all stood in silence as the doorbell rang again.

“I will go check it out,” Minho said, taking his gun out and leaving the room.

You heard him fumble with the keys and finally unlock the door.

“What are you doing here?”

▲▼▲▼▲

He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. He took his notebook and crossed one more thing out from the list.

Juyeon who was sitting in front of him, waiting for him to finish, pushed his feet off, clearly annoyed.

“We’re in a public place,” Juyeon hissed. “Could you not draw any more attention?”

He just stared at him, until the waitress walked by.

“I heard you got pretty roughed up. Getting knocked out wasn’t on your schedule, I assume?” he laughed.

“Shut up! I got the job done anyway. She took the gun,” Juyeon explained. “You think this will work?”

“Don’t worry. Sangyeon has everything planned. That gun will lead her right to us.”

“And then?”

“And then we finish what he couldn’t. We get rid of her once and for all.”

[Part 1] [Part 2]

A/N2: That’s right, The Boyz will be joining in on the action starting this chapter! Stray Boyz Rise!!

1K notes · View notes

mendesmelancholy · 5 years

Text

Marks - Chapter 2

a shawn mendes series

Chapter 1 Synopsis: A series where Shawn meets a fan in a tattoo parlour and gets a matching tattoo with her which sparks an unexpected dynamic between two people, learning how to love regardless of their mental illnesses. Warnings: anxiety attack/anxious thoughts, mentions of scars Word Count: 4k Taglist: @shawnmendes-s @negative-love @qrangr @sweetheartmendes @shawnsunflower @into-the-end @sunshineeashton @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @stokedmendes @someoneunimportantxx @shawnscheekscar A/N: Hey guys! I couldn’t wait till part 1 got to 200 notes (which is a little sad because I LOVE this series and I want other people to love it too. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! With love, Isabella x

“Do you believe in fate?” He asks her abruptly. Her brows furrow but she nods, “This feels like fate is screaming at me. Like, this is what I’m supposed to do,” he runs his fingers through his hair, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, “I can’t even describe it.”

She brushes her lips with her tongue, watching him with uncertainty before looking at Tony. Tony is finishing the last word on her tattoo, nodding his head, encouraging her.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Her hands tremble as she writes down the lyrics. She does her best to steady her pen, but she can’t help the anxiety crawling into her chest at the thought of one of her musical idols having her handwriting on her for the rest of their lives. She looks up at Shawn, who’s sitting in the tattoo chair, with only his briefs on, chuckling at something Tony says. She looks back down to the counter, her mind going hazy and she can feel the anxiety attack coming on. She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes, digging her fingernails into her palms.

She’s abruptly aware of his laugh and Tony’s words. She’s aware of the blood pumping through her veins. She’s aware of words surging in her head in a way she can’t quite keep up with. She’s aware of the fear accompanying the anxiety in her throat. Why did she agree to this? What if he doesn’t like it? What if he gets it and regrets it? What if he doesn’t want this? What if he’s doing it just to make her happy?

Her breath snags in her throat, the fear stopping any sort of thing that could ground her.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.breathe.breathe.breathebreathebreathebreathe.

The chant swirls in her head and she can’t breathe. The words jumble in her head along with the lyrics she’s meant to be writing but she can’t get her damn hand to stop shaking. She clutches onto the corner of the chair she’s sitting in, the one Shawn had sat in ten minutes ago, grasping onto something solid. Her fist curls around the Sharpie she’s holding, pressing the tip as hard as humanly possible against the paper. Her vision is blurry with tears, and even as she tries to blink them back, they smear down her cheeks almost the same way the Sharpie was bleeding through the tiny veins of the paper.

Now, she’s hyperventilating. Her mind has gone eerily silent. She’s shut down. And all she’s left with is the physical reactions occurring in her body. The pounding of her head and heart, the pulsing of her arteries, the trembling of her muscles and the heavy breathing of her lungs.

Shawn notices the hyperventilating. When he turns to look at the girl, his own heart stops. He’s quickly out of his seat, kneeling on the floor next to her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Shawn fumbles, his hand coming to wrap gently around her fingers which are digging to her chair. He can see her swallow hard, eyes boring into the paper in front of her. That’s when he looks at the shaky letters written on the paper and the big black smear from her stress on the marker. He can feel her shaking and he brings his fingers up to brush her pulse point on her wrist. Her heart is going a mile a minute.

“Honey, breathe with me,” he says. She doesn’t respond, completely blacked out of her surroundings, unaware what’s occurring around her. Shawn’s mind fumbles over ways to get her attention. He needs her to look at him. In his anxiety attacks, he needed to look at someone. Whether it was Andrew, Connor, Brian or his parents. He needed to ground himself with people’s presence. To know he isn’t alone.

Biting at his lip, he brings one hand he isn’t holding hers with to her right cheek. He gently applies pressure to her soft skin. She doesn’t resist. She allows him to guide her eyes to his and he smiles when her brown eyes meet his. His smile is reassuring and soothing, even though he can tell she’s not exactly looking at him. The look in her eyes is foreign and blank and completely and utterly zoned out and Shawn worries for a quick moment he won’t be able to snap her out of this state,

“Hey, honey, just keep looking at me,” he doesn’t move his hand. He begins to exaggerate his breathing, showing her she needs to breathe. She seems to understand in her hazy state and begins to take deep breaths. Her breaths shake like her muscles are, still, Shawn doesn’t move his fingers from her pulse point and continues to monitor the pattern in which her heartbeats. His eyes on hers, his touch on her skin, his ability to ground her, is what brings her back. He can feel her heartbeat slowing and hear her breathing evening out. The foggy look behind her eyes begins to dissipate the way clouds part after it’s rained.

“Hey, there you go,” he soothes, rubbing his thumb along her cheek, nodding encouragingly as she offers him a weak smile. She lets out a long final breath, her body slumping in her seat a little.

“Thank you,” she mutters. Shawn nods again, unwilling to part from her just yet. She smiles weakly at him, taking another profound breath and steadying her shaking hand that hasn’t moved from the paper.

“Sorry about that,” she awkwardly chuckles, referring both to her panic attack and the mess she’s made on the paper. She lets go of the pen and sits further back in her seat. Shawn’s grasp doesn’t quite reach so his touch drops from her cheek but rests on her knee instead. He’s still kneeling in front of her and his face is right in front of her. His tall stature proves to be much larger than her, the short girl still shorter than him in her seat and him on his knees.

“You okay, honey?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she sighs, using her right hand to pull at the hair tie in her hair. Her hair falls from the confines and flutters around her face. She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling slightly at the roots. Shawn frowns, waiting for her to continue, “Haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“Did I cause it?” Shawn asks worriedly, sitting back on his heels, still touching her hand that’s relaxed its grip on the chair. The other hand on her knee falls into his lap, but Shawn makes an effort to have a hand on her. He doesn’t want her to get brought back to that place. So, he will anchor her.

“No, not at all,” she sighs out. She promptly tries to distract herself, “Hey, uh, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get me a new pen and paper?”

“Of course.” Tony leaves without another word, never a man of many words, leaving Shawn and her alone. She licks her lips, slumping even farther into her seat and looking up at the ceiling of the tattoo parlour. She swallows, trying to collect herself after her anxiety attack and letting down one of her walls, feeling as if she owes an explanation to Shawn.

“I’ve just had a lot of family stuff going on. And, I was already really anxious today, so just… having to do something important kind of threw me over the edge.”

“You don’t have to do the tattoo if you don’t want to.”

“No,” she blurts, “believe me, I do. I do,” she laments before continuing, her voice returning to its small tone, “I think I honestly needed to have an anxiety attack. I’ve been a dam waiting to break. That’s why Tony didn’t do anything. He knew I needed to release the waters.”

“Got it,” Shawn says, reluctantly moving his hand from her and moving back to the seat. She barely remembers he’s only in his briefs, her mind occupied with the best way to explain her situation.

“I just… how much did you hear earlier?”

“When you guys started talking about my song and everything after that,” Shawn admits, leaning back in his seat as Tony comes back into the room, holding a new, undamaged Sharpie and a blank piece of paper. He hands it to her and she turns back to the counter.

“Well,” she starts talking to avoid the anxiety returning as she begins writing the lyrics again, “When Tony said it was the least he can do… he knew my father. And my father recently died.”

“Oh,” Shawn’s surprise is evident. He looks at Tony, who just shrugs and begins to busy himself with cleaning up his metal tray, “I’m so sorry.” Shawn finally says.

“Don’t be. He was a scumbag. He had what was coming to him,” her bitter words take Shawn by complete and utter surprise. Her soft voice doesn't match the meaning of her words at all, but underneath the tone holds something so much deeper than her words. And Tony doesn’t even flinch. Shawn turns his attention back to her, watching her body language. She tenses slightly, before releasing the muscles in her neck and back, slouching once more. Shawn notices how poor her posture is and he has to withstand the urge to correct her on it. Shawn’s team always emphasises the importance of good posture, for both his health and his singing.

“But, I’ve just kind of been on edge since I found out about the death. Hence, the anxiety attack,” she explains, finally finishing the lyrics. She puts the cap back on the Sharpie, handing the paper over to Tony who examines it with a smile and gives it to Shawn.

He grasps the flimsy paper in between his fingers and can’t help but admire the way her words look. They’re tall and narrow and small, but perfect. Her lines are neat and it’s even.

“It’s perfect,” Shawn smiles, looking up at her. She rolls her lips into her mouth to resist a smile, before giving in. The smile is unlike any he had seen on her this morning. The tight-lipped grins were gone. Instead, this was a full, pearly white teeth smile that made Shawn smile even wider. It was contagious.

“Good,” she confirms, the smiling dimming lightly as worry flashes in her eyes, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do another one? I’d be more than happy-”

“-No. It’s perfect…” Shawn confirms, trailing off. He realises he doesn’t know her name.

She catches his drift, “Astraea.”

“Astraea,” he repeats.

“It’s star in Greek,” she explains.

“That’s beautiful. Truly,” he smiles, handing over the paper to Tony so he can trace the words onto transfer paper. Shawn’s eyebrows crease, looking at the exposed spot on his thigh, wondering how much it’s gonna hurt.

The thought doesn’t last for long though, “Anything you care to listen to?” Astraea asks in her melodious tone, looking down at her massive phone in her tiny hand. Shawn bites his lip, holding back a chuckle at how adorable it is.

“No, you can choose.”

She raises her eyebrow slightly, biting back a smile before looking down at her phone.

“Hope you like screamo,” Tony mutters, finishing the transfer paper sketches.

“Hey, it is not screamo,” she protests, giggling slightly. Shawn melts in his seat.

“Post-hardcore, whatever,” Tony corrects himself, shaking his head and motioning Shawn to lean back fully in the chair and relax. Shawn complies, watching as Tony cleans the spot with rubbing alcohol and water, before shaving off the hair standing in the way of the tattoo. When the area is sterile and clean, Tony carefully manoeuvres the transfer paper onto Shawn’s skin. He presses it down and Shawn’s watching his every move. He can’t help but admire how gorgeous the placement is and the way the words look against his skin. Any anxiety he had earlier about making such an impulse decision is released and he loves his tattoo already.

When the music comes on this time, Shawn’s expecting it. And he listens to it intently. Regardless of it not being his cup of tea, he’s always trying to better himself as a musician and that comes with listening to music he may not be particularly fond of. He picks out certain things he likes about the particular song: the smooth melody of the chorus, the filter over the singer’s voice in certain parts… and he begins to bop his head along.

And Astraea doesn’t normally care if people don’t like her music, but a certain sense of satisfaction fills her tummy when she sees Shawn getting into it. The way he bops his head and bites at his lip when he’s listening intently. He doesn’t even notice that Tony’s getting ready to start the tattoo. However, when the needle switches on, Shawn jumps in his seat. Shawn looks at Astraea with a certain vehemence in his eyes. He’s seeking comfort and she gives him a reassuring nod, though it doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

“Can you… can you hold my hand?” He asks softly and she nods slowly. She shuffles her seat next to Shawn’s. She experimentally reaches her hand out to his and he wastes no time scooping her fingers up between his and squeezing. Their fingers lace together and Shawn gives her a reassuring squeeze, to which she responds with a squeeze of her own. Her cheeks heat up at the small gesture and her chest begins to swell with a mix of emotions that are both positive and negative.

“It’ll be done before you know it, and it’ll be worth it,” Astraea smiles at him. It’s another genuine smile and Shawn can’t help but smile, even when the needle pushes into his skin. The energy behind her smile is pure and contagious and he loves the way it makes his head go light. Not a care in the world. Until he finally recognises the familiar sting of the tattoo needle. It’s not bad at first, but then when it gets bad, it gets horrible. Astraea watches as the smile gradually fades from his face and bites her bottom lip, her face gradually shifting with his. Her eyebrows furrow into a position of worry, her smile becoming more of a grimace as she watches his mouth make an ‘o’ before he says,

“Oh, fuck… oh, my, god,” he’s punctuating his words, pinching his eyes shut at the searing pain of the needle puncturing his skin. His grip on her tiny hand grows a little tighter. She looks away from his face and at the tattoo being engraved in his skin. She admits, it’s a really great idea, and it looks even better. She scarcely pays attention to Tony, who’s glance is flickering up to her to make sure she’s still okay with the tattoo. But, judging by the look gracing her features, she’s okay.

“Hey, you’re nearly done with the first three words,” she notices, trying to distract Shawn. He focuses in on her voice, it’s quiet and smooth with a little bit of rasp and the perfect middle tone and it sounds like music to him. He opens his eyes and looks at her, who’s not even looking at his face, but at the new tattoo being traced out delicately, in her handwriting. ‘Out of my control, push and pull and then it's grabbing me - feel it in my bones.’

When she looks up at him, she’s expecting his head to be tilted back against the seat, his face pulled into a grimace. But instead, he’s looking at her. His fluffy hair has fully fallen onto his forehead, his curls sort of frizzy and one sticking to his skin from his sweat. She nods reassuringly, squeezing his hand. Shawn notices how tightly he’s gripping onto her hand and goes to lax his grip, but she shakes her head at him.

“It’s fine. Swear,” she says. She takes her available hand and grabs the now cold coffee on the countertop and sips at it. She’s still exhausted and she can’t imagine how Shawn feels, his coffee from earlier in the bin rather than his stomach. And whilst her mind is occupied with him, he watches with her intrigue. Her demeanour is so interesting.

Astraea is reserved. She’s shy and her voice is quiet, but based on her tattoo choices, she has a lot to say. She knows what to say and when to say it, but in an unexpected way. Shawn thinks that what she has to say is always shared with people who are close to her; who know her quirks and the stories behind all of those scars and know why her father was a scumbag. Shawn rolls his lips into his mouth, thinking to himself, She’s really gorgeous. And she’s puzzling. And he wants to get to know her. But he remembers, she’s a fan.

An internal debate begins. Anyone he dates has to like his music. Check. Anyone he dates has to act like he’s normal. He quickly wonders if her shyness is because of him, but his mind returns with Tony’s comments towards her and how she reacted. Still shy, but surer of herself. Check. But, what if she’s a fan who knew he would be here and plotted it? What if he’s already met her and she followed him or mobbed him? What if she stalks him? What if-

His gut is telling him to trust her. Trust her the way she trusted you to hold your hand when she was getting her tattoo. The way she looked scared that you were playing a prank on her, but gave in. Give in, Shawn. Trust someone. And when Shawn returns from the journey in his mind, he realises he’s still watching her. And he thinks she notices. But she’s too demure to say anything. There’s a rosiness to her cheeks makes him want to caress the way he did earlier when she was panicking. And she’s fidgeting with her seat again with the hand that wasn’t holding his.

He likes her demeanour. A lot. He likes the calmness and quietness of her presence, even if the anxiety juxtaposes her calm nature. He likes the way she carries herself, even in her bad posture, she seems to sit with purpose. Quiet purpose. And god, he’s so fascinated by her.

He wants to get underneath her exterior and see her interior, because if her outer appearance is even a fraction of what she looks like on the inside, Shawn would collapse in on himself.

She notices he’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even pay attention to the needle moving against his skin. Astraea lets him think. She can tell they’re good thoughts based on his body language and his relaxed jaw. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes glaze over as he wanders away in his mind and she also doesn’t miss the way his glance is trained on her. She wonders, what she considers to be foolish, if he’s thinking about her. Because she’s thinking about him.

Sure, he was a popstar. But the normality of his entrance, his clumsiness of spilling his coffee at the shock of her music, his worried nature as he cleaned up his mess - was anything but popstar. His immediate willingness to hold her hand and make sure she was okay when she started feeling dizzy at his presence screamed anything but popstar. And the way he held her hand and cheek, bringing her away from that dark corner of her mind that seemed to take up all of her thoughts is imprinted in her mind for the rest of her life. This gorgeous boy with his gorgeous smile and endearing clumsiness and habit of using nicknames is so much more than a popstar. Even as a writing intern, she couldn’t find the words to describe him the way she wanted to. Speechless. Or wordless.

Her attraction to him is undeniable, but she hides that thought away in a very remote part of her mind. He would never ask her out. He has dated models and been linked to singers and she was just an intern who liked tattoos. And she by far did not have enough confidence around someone she just met to ask him out. Or his number, to check on his tattoo healing process, she thinks she would say to him. Idiot, that’s fucking miserable. True, she agrees with herself.

By the time they both snap out of their trances, they realise their gazes are on one another and Shawn just smiles, making the heat in her cheeks spread to her ears and they burn.

Shawn finds it endearing. And by the time the pain of the needle resonates with him again, the tattoo is done. And so may be his time with her. And he tries to accept it. But something in his heart is nagging him, urging him to not accept it and do something about it.

“Done,” Tony says plainly, cleaning the tattoo. Shawn looks down at it and his nagging heart is replaced with a full heart at how beautiful the tattoo is - it’s simple and so open to interpretation and so perfect.

“It looks amazing,” Shawn and Astraea say together. Shawn laughs at the cohesion and she simply smiles, looking down at the ground. Tony stands from his seat, carefully placing the Saniderm over the raw skin and retreating to the receptionist desk to grab the coffee Shawn had brought him ages ago before starting the original tattoo Shawn came for. Shawn stands too, reaching behind Astraea to grab his joggers slung over the back of the chair. Their proximity makes her stomach bubble and the warm smile he gives her sends her over the edge, her tummy erupting with swarms of butterflies. She tries her best to keep her emotions at bay, but they're overwhelming. So she can't help the warm smile she returns instead of shying away.

“Thank you,” he says, stumbling around as he puts on his joggers and tying the knot and she can’t help but watch the way his fingers move, “For the tattoo. It looks amazing- wait!”

His abrupt exclamation startles them both, “We need to get a picture together! Of the matching tattoos!”

“You think they’re matching?” She says inaudibly, biting back a smile that would split her whole face open. Coordinating, sure. A synonym for matching, but not quite as cohesive. But here Shawn is, believing the tattoos are matching. And he slowly nods and grins, looking at her.

So, “Drop trow’,” she jokes and she rolls her lips in at what she just said. But, Shawn notices that it seems to be the first truly comfortable thing she’s said to him all morning. He laughs and he obliges before he moves to stand next to her. He’s truly taller than her. At least a foot. Her head doesn’t even reach his shoulders. Her tan skin contrasts to his pale thighs, but it’s a contrast that looks like art to him. He admires the small stretch marks on her hips and inner thighs which he can barely see, but still admires anyway.

“Tony,” she calls. Over the music still playing, she can’t hear him approaching. Tony doesn’t even need instruction when Shawn hands them the phone and they arrange themselves to have the picture taken. In the shuffle, their bare skin touches and they simultaneously shiver, goosebumps rising along their thighs at the intimate skin brushing along the others. Neither of them says anything to the other, afraid that they were going crazy and that the other didn’t feel the same fluttering in their own chests at the touch.

Her spandex rests right above the tattoo, not needing to be moved. Shawn however, adjusts his briefs so the hem is resting above the Saniderm. Both have their tattoos wrapped, but they’re visible. Tony wordlessly snaps a few pictures up close, then stepping back and capturing the look on their faces. Astraea looks flustered yet happy, her hair that’s down and frizzy around her shoulders adding the perfect element to the facial expression and Shawn is sparkling, his pearly white teeth beaming down at her. And when Astraea looks up at Shawn, Tony makes sure he gets that picture of them. Because he knows they'll want that intimate moment captured for the future. And in that way, Tony knows something will come from this. He’s always right about this kind of thing.

#my writing #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #smtt

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