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pagesoflauren · 3 years

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Henry Cavill Vampire Anthology: Memories Bring Back Memories...

darkish!vampire!Napoleon Solo x reader

Warnings: not-fully-fleshed-out vampire lore, vampire-typical violence, angst, pseudo-blackmailing, mentions of trauma/parental neglect

A/N: So, played around with an idea and based it on this creepypasta. I had also read a fic with this idea with Harry Styles, but I can’t find it anymore. I hope y’all enjoy this 🤞🏽

Your eyes sting when you first open them, the sight of the bright hospital lights making your pupils constrict painfully.

You’re connected to various machines through tubes attached to your arms. You can hear the steady rhythm on the heart rate monitor grow increasingly faster as you fail to get your bearings.

Somewhere in your subconscious you know you shouldn’t move so violently, but you do. Your arms thrash and tug at wires, causing the wheels on the machines to roll across the tile floor.

Cool hands press against your hot skin. Your muscles move to cringe away from the shock until you look into the face of the person.

It’s a man; a beautiful stranger with blue eyes and perfect features.

You must be dead.

“Relax, darling,” he soothes you, the prosody of his voice a little sing-songy compared to others you’ve spoken to. You don’t know anyone who speaks the way he does.

“Who are you?”

He looks so pained, his eyebrows coming together and moving upwards. His eyes drift down for a moment as he appears to collect his thoughts before meeting yours again. He runs his knuckles against your cheek. His touch is so unfamiliar that you lean away from it, though he acts as if he’s done this a million times before.

“You’ll remember soon.”

A lie, but you don’t need to know that.

“I’ll get the nurse.”

He reaches over to the space next to your head. The button clicks when he presses it and a white light above it turns on.

He takes in the wild look in your eyes as you take in your surroundings, looking at spots behind him before scanning the rest of the room. Your breathing slows, as shown by your chest slowing but also by the audible sound of your lungs shrinking as your ribs close around them.

He finds such beauty in the way your body moves in sync, how your heartbeat also loses speed. Your body temperature goes down, some of your warmth disappearing from him.

You’re quite perfect, aren’t you?

Though, he made you this way.

You foolishly let your guard down while walking home and unfortunately crossed paths with him on the verge of a literal mental breakdown.

Mortals use that term to describe when they’re under excessive amounts of stress and lose all sensibility.

His kind uses it when their minds follow their bodies: dead. When their brains lose their mental vigor, they turn to humans to fulfill their needs.

Most people don’t survive an attack from those like him. They are drained of their very essence. Everything that made them who they are, the experiences that shaped their beliefs, the emotions that arise when they navigate the world… is all stolen away in a few moments with a bite at the back of the neck.

Others, like you, come out in better shape. A little disoriented, more recent memories lost but still many intact ones. Enough to allow you to still function, only less effectively than before.

You were an easy target. Napoleon was ready to empty your little head and leave you a slump on the street. But your memories intrigued him.

Your mother. Your father. A second man he can assume is a step-father. An empty road at night illuminated by passing headlights. Dingy living in the city you’re currently in, riddled with rats and flies. Tables filled with food while your stomach grumbled, seedy customers that grabbed your retracting hands, shady characters you pass on the way back home from work.

Napoleon knows that life. On the run in strange cities, sneaking around, avoiding an entire task force created especially for him. He knows women. He’s certain he’s met every single type of them in the long time he’s been alive and has been around long enough to have met each type twice.

There’s one type of woman he actively tries to avoid, though. The type of woman that led to his heart shattered on the floor when it was still beating: the ones who need him; the helpless kind.

That’s exactly what you were. It was clear there were things you were ready to forget. You needed a clean slate. He could help you rebuild your mental health, give you beautiful memories to hold on to.

You needed him.

The nurses were saying you had a case of memory loss from when you fell and hit your head, but your boyfriend was there to take care of you. He had all the paperwork filled out because he was the one that took you to the hospital three days ago.

You were knocked out for three days.

It overwhelmed you, but they reassured you he was your emergency contact.

As such, after all the tests and brain scans, you were given into his care. His embrace felt foreign, but you didn’t protest when he insisted you take his hand as you walked to his car together.

You twiddled your thumbs as he drove through a city you swore you have never seen before. You have an overwhelming sense of deja vu, something that rings a faint bell when you see a certain street corner or the unlit neon sign of a restaurant. It sounds when you pass a dilapidated apartment building with chipping paint and a rusty fire escape. You can conjure an image of what a unit inside would look like, hear the creaks of the floor, or the failing stovetop as you try to boil water.

His house is out of the city, on a quiet street straight out of a magazine. The inside is neat and it almost puts you off. You don’t feel at home here.

“How are you feeling, darling? You need a rest?”

“I think so. I-I don’t remember anything, it’s a lot to be in here.”

A gentle hand lays on your shoulder, turning you to a corridor. “Last door on the right. I’ll make you some tea.”

Tea? Do you like tea? You can’t remember…

You’re startled by the light tap on your bottom that makes you stumble forward. When you look back at him, he’s heading towards the kitchen.

The bedroom is fairly simple, with blue checkered covers you could expect from a man your boyfriend’s age.

Taking a look around, you find your makeup on a vanity by the window. There are two sets of drawers and you assume the one next to the vanity is yours.

Sirens are going off in your head now. There are no bells of recollection.

You go into the bathroom, sliding the glass door of the shower cubicle open.

It was the nicest shower you had ever seen, with a dark blue backsplash and five different showerheads. On the floor, you find products that are far out of your budget. They were the luxury items you saw in the drugstore that you would only hope to afford one day.

You pick up the bottle of shampoo. It’s heavier than you expect, brand new.

“Darling?” his voice calls into the bedroom. You hear the teacup rattle on a saucer as his footsteps draw closer. “Ah, there you are.”

You put the bottle down and turn to face him. His large frame fills the doorframe as he leans against it, the cup and saucer looking so delicate in his large hand.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” It comes out as a whine, but you can’t hold in your frustration. Surely, you’d have some memory of this.

“You fell pretty hard, darling. I was very distressed,” he explains, placing your drink on the counter next to the sink.

“But I really don’t remember anything. This house, the bedroom, the shower...I don’t even remember you…or what I called you.”

“Napoleon,” he supplies. “You always called me by my first name.”

You didn’t know his name until now. All the other women he’s known called him by other names, aliases. His name is reserved for his mother.

And now you.

“It’s so much, Napoleon.” He sees panic return to your eyes. It’s the same look you had when he grabbed you on the street. You clutched at the arm that constricted around your neck, breathing weak utterances of “please” over and over again.

“Maybe...maybe I could go somewhere, just for a few days. And if I rest, just, outside of here, I’ll have a clear mind and can remember…”

He looks down and sighs. He pushes off the doorframe and takes short, careful steps toward you.

“Darling, I hate to tell you this,” he begins, tucking your hair behind your ears. His palms cradle your jaw, tilting your head back so you can look up at him. “But your memories won’t come back.”

You blink rapidly in disbelief, shaking your head as much as you can. “But...but the nurses said--”

“The nurses don’t know what they were talking about,” he says gently.

You say nothing, staring into his beautiful face, searching for answers.

“You won’t get your memories back because I have them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Does your neck hurt?”

Icy fingers touch the back of your neck, a jolt of pain shooting down your spine and your knees buckle. You clutch at his shirt to keep yourself standing.

“Ah, it does.” He smiles, prominent pointed teeth glinting in the bathroom light. “Because that’s where I bit you. And I have all your memories, darling. Apart from the few that are still bouncing around that pretty head of yours.”

You push him away as best you can, which isn’t very much, and back away. The glass door rattles as you come in contact with it, trying to create more space between your bodies.

“You...you can’t be--that can’t be true. That’s impossible.”

A bite on your neck? Something you’ll never get back?

Vampires feed on blood, not memories…

“You came to this city to escape your broken family. Your father abandoned you. Your step-father didn’t care for you. Your mother was so blinded by love to see how you were neglected.”

The bells again. Bells are better than sirens, but not this time.

“No.” You refuse to listen.

“I’m here to keep you safe. You need someone to keep you safe. And you need someone to rebuild that little memory of yours.”

The gears click in your head. You have happy memories of you and your mom. No man was there. He could be lying.

But how could you know with certainty?

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“I don’t know, darling,” he says, stepping towards you again. He leans down, pressing his nose to yours in an Eskimo kiss. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity @stargazingfangirl18 @lovemarvelousfics @rainbowkisses31 @richonne4life @damnndeanndamnn @meetmeatyourworst @tinyplanet-explorer @vivien-1211 @unknownmystery22 @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mariaenchanted @gotnofucks

HCVA Tag: @october505

Peeps I hope are interested: @searchforanotherway @threeminutesoflife @sapphirescrolls

#henry cavill #henry cavill au #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x you #napoleon solo au #The Man from UNCLE AU #The Man from UNCLE fic #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from UNCLE (2015)#tmfu fic #tmfu fanfic #Henry Cavill Vampire Anthology #ficsofpagesoflauren

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marvelslut16 · 4 years

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Can’t live without you

Pairing: Stanley Uris x reader (adults)

Synopsis: (Y/N) finds out that her best friend didn’t arrive back in Derry with the rest of the losers club, and finds out that he tried to kill himself. Glimpses of her past with Stan are seen as she visits him in the hospital. Will the best friends that have been pining over each other since they were kids finally get their happy ending, or will Patricia and the very different lives the lead get in the way?

Word count: 5,314 this is a lot more than I originally planned, guess I got carried away.

Warnings: Attempted suicide. Talk of self harm. Blood/gore/violence, typical for the IT fandom. Brief implication of domestic violence from a father and a wife. A little angsty at times, but fluffy. Swearing. Tooth rotting fluff near the end.

A/N: Stan may be OOC, but I tried my hardest for my first IT story. Stan the man Uris is fantastic and deserved so much better. AU where the characters I love don’t die. The reader in this story isn’t Jewish, if you are Jewish, I apologize. There is a cute little story-line that relies heavily on the reader not having the same faith as him.

It had been just over twenty years since you were last in your home town of Derry Maine, and you hadn’t thought if it once. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to remember, you just couldn't. There were days when the name Stan would randomly pop in your head, and from a place buried very deep in the back of your brain, you were sure he was an important person in your adolescent life.

When Mike Hanlon called to tell you that Pennywise was back, your heart started pounding so hard you were convinced it would leap from its place inside your chest. You didn’t exactly remember Pennywise, but you remembered the fear. You also remembered a mop of curly light brown hair that you immediately associated with Stan.

Upon arriving at the Chinese restaurant in Derry flashes of your childhood came back, they were so unfamiliar it was like watching somebody else's life. Stan was the center of almost all of them, your old best friend and boy you had been in love with since you were six. It was great catching up with your old friends, but it didn’t feel right without Stan.

The other six members of the losers club opened their fortune cookies, spelling out; ‘I,’ ‘cut,’ ‘not,’ ‘it,’ ‘guess,’ and ‘could.’ Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach as you open your own and see the thick black letters spelling out Stanley.

“No,” you gasp out a plea to no one in particular. You lean forward and numbly move the papers around to say, ‘I guess Stanley could not cut it.’ The rest of the losers club had remembered enough over dinner to remember just how much Stan meant to you, causing them to stare at you as you try to blink back tears.

The group running from creatures breaking out of fortune cookies happens in a blur, your head isn’t clear until the cool night air hits it. Mike gives you Stan’s number as soon as he comes to his senses. You walk away from the group, wanting privacy for whatever you get on the other end of the call.

“Who is this?” a female voice answers the phone. Your furrow your eyebrows in fear and glance over at Mike who is watching you closely.

“Uh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you state nervously, picking at your already chipped nail polish. “I’m sorry, I thought this was Stan Uris’s number.”

“It is,” the voice says slowly. “How do you know him?”

“We grew up together, we were best friends,” you smile as you remember gripping onto his hand as the wind whipped around you two the first time you jumped into the quarry. “Our friend group was having a mini reunion back home, and we got worried that he didn’t show up.”

“He’s in the hospital,” she says with no real emotion in her voice.

“What?” you ask in disbelief. Not your Stan.

“He’s in the hospital,” she snaps. “Do I need to say it slower for you? He slit his wrists and lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh my God,” you murmur, knees going weak at the thought. “Which hospital? I’d like to visit him before I go back home.”

She tells you the name of the hospital and hangs up before you can say anything else. Your knees buckle as soon as the line clicks dead, causing you to fall and scrape up your knees on the dirty pavement. Tears stream down your face and silent sobs shake your body. Ben and Bev immediately rush to your side, Bev kneeling beside you as she rubs soothing circles into your back.

“(Y/N)?” she asks nervously.

“He’s in the hospital,” you sob out weakly. “He tried to kill himself.” Bev helps you stand and sets you in Richie’s car so you can head to the hotel.

The rest of your time in Derry is a blur, it’s over so quick, but feels painfully slow. You instantly knew that your token was the menorah necklace that you’ve worn everyday since you had gotten it in sixth grade. Stan had bought it for you for Christmas as a joke, his father had made a not-so-pleasant comment about you not being Jewish the week prior. You knew you loved him the moment you tore the ribbon off of the box; he knew you better than anyone else, he let his guard down when he was with you, and he was the kindest, sweetest boy you had ever met especially when he stood up to his father about your religion.

Before you know it you’re assaulted by the smell of bleach and shiny white floors as you walk into the hospital Stan is in. After finding out the room number from the receptionist you slowly head to his room, wondering if you should really be there.

Through the small window of Stan’s hospital room you see a blonde woman sitting on a couch on the far side of the room, typing away on her laptop. When you enter the room she slams her laptop shut and walks over to you, making sure to stand between you and Stan’s bed.

“I’m Patricia Uris,” she makes no move to stick her hand out for you to shake, but makes the diamond on her left hand noticeable.

“I’m (Y/N),” you give her a small smile that drops as you look behind her, seeing Stan’s body lay there unmoving. “We briefly spoke on the phone the other night.”

“Right,” her eyes squint as she looks you up and down. “What happened to your face?” She’s referring to the healing cut that reaches from your hairline diagonally to your eyebrow, you should really look into getting side bangs or something. Pennywise was always great at mentally and physically scarring everyone.

“I was taking a shortcut through the forest in Derry when I slipped and cut it on a sharp piece of bark,” you lie effortlessly. She rolls her eyes but seems to believe your terrible excuse. “Is Stan getting any better?”

“The doctors say he should wake up any day now,” she doesn’t sound as excited about that as a wife should. “They say he should be awake, he just doesn’t want to. It’s all psychological apparently. It’s just like Stan to not want to do anything, always wanting to bird watch instead of going shopping with me.”

“Stan always loved to bird watch,” you smile at Patricia, pushing away the anger you feel at her ignorance and disdain she seems to hold for her husband. “He used to always drag me to the park in Derry to show me the different types, I was the only one in the group to enjoy it with him.”

“Yeah, well, it gets old fast,” she rolls her eyes, turning around to pack her laptop in her bag and grab her purse. “I’m gonna go home and shower, sit with him as long as you want to.”

Her heels click loudly on the linoleum flooring as she walks past you without a second glance towards Stan. You frown at her back as she walks down the hall to the elevator. You pull up a chair next to Stan’s bed and lightly grab his limp hand, running your thumb over the back of his hand.”

“You can’t leave me alone in this shit world, not after I finally remember,” tears spill down your cheeks. “I need you Stan the man. I’ll even go bird watching with you. Richie said, and I quote, so you can’t get mad at me for saying this when you wake up and remember me saying this, that you need to wake your ass up Urine, there are still a shit ton of birds to go look at. It’s all over Stan, we killed IT. And we all made it out, so you definitely need to wake back up. I’ve lived twenty years without you Stanley, I can’t go twenty more without you. I can’t even go one more without you.

Richie and Eddie finally got together, it was really cute. Eddie thought he was dying, he got stabbed by IT, so he confessed his love to Richie. But Richie was determined to get him out of there alive, and he did. So now they’re finally together, even though he married a woman that’s essentially his mother. Ben and Bev finally got together, we used to always say that they were made for each other. Ben is super fit now, but he’s still the biggest sweetheart I have ever met. And Bev is still so strong willed and fierce.

Bill is a horror writer now, which to me is pretty ironic. They’re making his stories into movies, where they always change the ending because they want something happy. He married some actress, who he’s divorcing as we speak. She isn’t great, insulting his work and not really caring that she’s hurting his feelings. Mike has been living in Derry this entire time, he took over his family's business. He was waiting these past twenty-seven years for IT to come back. Trying his hardest to protect the next generation from the horror that we faced.

I guess that just leaves me, I moved to Colorado, far far away from Derry. I worked my ass off to become a lawyer, the dream you always pushed me to go after. Even when I couldn’t remember you, your encouragement was in the back of my head, keeping me going when it got difficult. There were days that I would get foggy images of us getting ice cream, or splashing each other in the quarry, all of those times when you would let your guard down and have fun with me. Even after the losers club drifted apart as we went into high school, you stayed at my side. You defended me to your father when he hated that we were so close, even though I wasn’t Jewish. We were always there to pick each other up when Bowers or Greta and their friends would tease or beat us up. Stanley Uris, please wake up. I need you, we all miss you, and I definitely miss you the most.”

After spending hours with him, you head to the nearest hotel for the night. The next morning you stop by the hospital with the intent to say goodbye to Stan before heading home. When you walk up to the room Patricia and the doctor are talking.

“There was more brain activity yesterday,” the doctor’s voice drifts out through the open door and into the hall where you’re standing. “Whatever you did, do it again, because it was the first time we saw evidence that he could wake up.”

“Great,” she has a fake grin on her face, and she’s using a fake tone. Why doesn’t she want Stan, the most amazing man you have ever met and her husband, to wake up? “What are you doing here again?” she snaps as she notices you in the doorway.

“I have to head back home, so I wanted to say goodbye to him,” you nervously fiddle with the hem of your sweater.

“Didn’t you have enough time with him yesterday?” she glares at you. Why is she so defensive about you seeing Stan again?

“You were here yesterday?” the doctor's eyes widen as he looks at you for the first time.

“Yeah,” you answer shyly, flattening the side bangs you cut last night. Making sure they cover your stitched up forehead. His eyes light up in excitement and goes to talk to you once more, Patricia cuts him off.

“Well, as Stanley’s wife, I’m not sure I feel comfortable having you spend more time with him,” as she goes to continue with a string of complaints, a hushed and broken sound comes from the hospital bed.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. Your knees go weak, almost collapsing with relief as Stan repeats the sounds he had just made.

“I’m right here Stan,” Patricia forces her excitement once more, limply grabbing his hand.

“(Y/N),” his voice is clear this time, and your heart flutters as your old best friend says your name again. You rush over to his other side, gently grabbing his hand since that's where his IV is.

“Stan?” your voice breaks as you try to keep a relieved sob from escaping. Stan slowly and carefully flips his hand over, threading his fingers with yours. “It’s over. IT is gone, we got rid of IT this time.” His eyes open at your words, head turning to look you in the eyes. Tears finally escape the moment you can finally look into his deep brown eyes again.

“Did you call me urine?” his voice is rough and scratchy from not being able to use it for a week. More tears spill down your face as you laugh, because that was the first question he decides to ask you.

“I said I was quoting Richie,” your whole body shakes as you laugh, far too relieved to care if Patricia thinks you’re being over the top.

“I can remember,” his voice is softer, just like his eyes. “I remember everything. What ever happened to your necklace?” his other hand reaches across his body, but stops and hovers a few inches away from where the necklace once hung. You instinctively reach up to touch your chest where the pendent once fell.

“We needed tokens of our past, the most important thing from our childhood, that was mine,” he grips your hand tighter, the other one falling to his lap and away from Patricia. “I wore it everyday these past twenty seven years.”

“What necklace?” Patricia’s strained voice brings you back to Earth. You carefully let go of Stan’s hand and pull it back to your side. You had forgotten about Patricia, forgot that you aren’t allowed to love him anymore.

“I got her a menorah necklace,” Stan laughs at the memory, not noticing that you got awkward and pulled away. “She’s not Jewish, and my dad always hated that we were so close and she wasn’t. I used to joke that I would convert her one day, so I thought it would be funny to get her it for Christmas.” The doctor grins at you and Stan with a knowing look before backing out of the room quietly.

“Cute,” Patricia rolls her eyes and glares at you. You frown in response, wondering what on Earth you ever did to her. Ignoring Patricia, you hand Stan the unopened water bottle from your bag, sure that he’d need some water. He smiles gratefully at you before taking a large sip.

“What are you even doing here?” his stern gaze landing on Patricia. You furrow your brows, the Stan you knew would never treat his wife this way.

“I’m your wife!” her voice is shrill, hurting your ears and making you cringe. Stan on the other hand doesn’t seem amused with the outburst.

“We aren’t married anymore Patricia,” Stan’s voice is harder than you have ever heard before. “I divorced you three years ago, the only reason you're here is because I haven’t changed my emergency contact.”

You run your hands through your hair as you process the new information, Stan was available. You could love him without being guilty. You could finally tell him that you love him, that you always have.

“Well have fun with your deformed klutz over there,” she gestures towards you with a mocking grin. You had pushed your bangs back a moment prior without realizing it, Stan’s gaze on you quickly goes from confused to anger as he pieces together what happened to you.

“Leave Patricia,” the anger in his voice is kinda hot. “I never want to see you again.”

“Don’t come crawling back to me when you get bored with her,” and with that she leaves, slamming the door loudly behind her.

“What happened?” Stan brings his hand up and gently glides his fingers over the stitches Eddie put in.

“You aren’t married?” your heart is beating so fast you swear it would break out of your chest and fly away.

“No, I divorced her a while ago, I realized she was treating me terribly,” you start crying at his words. “Why are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead, and then I thought you were married and slowly dying,” you sob. “But now you’re suddenly single and very much alive. It’s a lot to process.

He lifts his hand back up to your face, wiping away your tears even if they’re being replaced as soon as he moves his thumb away from your skin. His hands are a little rough, but soft enough to know that he works behind a desk. His hand starts to caress your cheek, you have to fight the heat from rising to your cheeks and push away the excitement you feel from the tender touch. You’re just an old friend he hasn’t seen in twenty years, nothing more.

“What happened to your forehead?” his voice is soft again, and his fingers brush along the angry red cut once more.

“I was facing my fear,” images of a young Stan abandoning you in order to save himself, saying that you mean nothing to him, after you had fallen and your abusive father was closing in on you, race through your mind. “And Pennywise, as my father, cornered me after a young you pushed me down and ran away. As my father was hovering over me with a knife, he morphed into IT and he used his long sharp nail to cut my face, and try to gouge my eye out. I got lucky because there happened to be a large rock next to me, which I hit IT with so I could run away.”

“I would never leave you,” Stan says sadly, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you but can’t look into your eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see him again, even if he was just IT’s illusion.”

“It’s fine,” you reach up to play with your necklace, forgetting it’s not there anymore. Playing with the necklace had become a coping mechanism for your anxiety. The nervous tick had developed almost immediately after you received the present. “Really, everything is in the past now. I’m fine.”

Stan gives you a disbelieving look, you look around the room to avoid his gaze. Your eyes lock onto the clock, causing them to widen as you take in the time. How had that much time passed already? It felt like you had entered the room five minutes ago, it certainly didn’t feel like two hours had come and gone.

“What is it?” Stan grabs your hand, keeping you from standing from the uncomfortable hospital chair.

“I have a plane to catch, in an hour,” you pull your hand from his grasp, standing and backing away from the bed as well. “I need to go now if I have any chance of making it through TSA and to my plane in time.”

“Don’t go,” his voice is soft, broken even. “I lost you once, I can’t lose you again.”

“You’ll be fine Stan,” you flash him a watery smile. “You have healing to do, and then you can go bird watch all you want. We’ll remember each other this time, we can keep in touch.” You walk over to the side of his bed, pushing the curls off his forehead so you can give him a soft kiss. A tear slips down your cheek and lands on his curls as the fall back into place. “Goodbye Stan.”

It had been weeks since you had left Atlanta, and you’ve thought of Stan every hour of every day since. It’s like your mind is punishing you with thoughts of him since you had forgotten him for so long. You and Stan texted a couple times, you still had his number from when Mike gave it to you. And just like Mike gave you Stan’s number, he gave Stan your address. Because two and a half weeks after you arrived home, a small package from Stan arrived in the mail.

You stare at the package in shock for a few minutes, before finally opening it. You gasp as you see a menorah necklace inside, almost identical to the one you had gotten so many years ago. Your heart thumps against your rib cage at the thoughtful, heartfelt gesture.

You immediately send Stan a text, thanking him for the necklace, while lightly chastising him for spending money on you, and asking him to give you a call as soon as he could. It has been almost twenty four hours since your text, and you've gotten no reply. You start to fear the worst, that this could have been his last act before trying, and succeeding, to kill himself. As you contemplate finding a way to get a wellness check on him, there's a knock on your apartment door. Probably just the guy from down the hall that doesn’t understand that rejection isn’t playing hard to get.

When you open the door Stan is standing in front of you; his dark brown curls are styled instead of the chaotic mess they were at the hospital, his face clean shaven, his striped button up and pressed khakis are reminiscent of the outfits he would wear as a child. This is how you always imagined Stanley Uris would look like as an adult, well without the small almost unnoticeable scars on the side of his head.

“Come in,” you finally snap out of your trance and step to the side, leaving more than enough room for him to walk into your modest two bedroom apartment. He takes in the living room and kitchen, but his eyes light up when they land at the necklace hanging delicately from your throat. “Wh-what are you doing here?” you glance down at the small carry on he’s holding.

“I thought I should tell you why I did it,” his voice is strained. “And I didn’t want to do it over the phone, since I know you were getting ready to make some smart ass remark about telephones.” Stan really was your best friend, because he’s spot on with his prediction about what you were just about to say. “I don’t know if it’s because I saw the deadlights for so long or something, but as we kept getting closer to twenty seven years I started to remember. It started with you and the rest of the losers a few years ago, but as soon as Mike told me IT was back I remembered all the pain we went through. I knew that we all needed to go back to Derry, but I knew I couldn’t do it. I knew that if I went my fear would be putting you in danger. I thought suicide would be the only way to keep you safe and where I didn’t have to face IT again.”

“Bev saw visions of everyone's death, how we would all die if we ignored IT. She saw you in your bathtub, and ironically she saw me bashing my own head in with a law textbook,” you laugh awkwardly, changing the subject from his reasoning and proof that he isn’t alone in this. “IT found a way to get to us, no matter how strong we are or how far away from Derry we were. Do I think you and Bev had it worse because you two saw the deadlights? Yeah, I do. I’m sure you got memories back as IT was waking up, you saw the deadlights the longest. You never should have made it out of those sewers alive that summer, but I’m glad you did. That probably made you more susceptible to that rush of fear you got again. And I just want you to know that you aren’t alone Stan.”

“I’ve missed you,” his voice frail as he pulls nervously at the bottom of his button up.

“It’s been two weeks Stan,” you try to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling growing in your stomach. “You couldn’t have missed me that much. Plus, you could have called to talk.” Stan takes a deep shaky breath, and you frown in concern at his actions.

“I’ve loved you my entire life (Y/N), it’s been two and a half weeks and I can’t stand to be away from you,” Stan says earnestly, his words warm your broken soul. “Not for two weeks and three days, I don’t think I can even go a day without you near. I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I love you too, Stanley Uris,” a grin spreads across your face, the joy mirrored in your eyes. “I knew I loved you the moment I got my first menorah necklace from you. It showed me just how special I was to you, you stood up to your father for me and you got me something that would forever remind the two of us of that moment.”

Stan doesn’t say anything, he just leans forward and captures your lips with his. The kiss is electric, you swear there are fireworks, just like those cheesy movies. With your left hand you caress the scars on his head from all those years ago, and your right tangles into his styled curls. Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll float away if he lets go. When you pull apart your lips are tingling, both you and Stan panting heavily.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Stan breaks the mood smiling shyly, causing you to laugh. “I kinda just threw stuff in a bag and got on the first flight out of Georgia, didn’t really plan ahead.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Stanley?” you laugh lightly, his ears turning red at your teasing. “He would never leave the house without having a well thought out plan first.”

“What can I say?” his smile grows, and so does yours as you watch the dimple on his right cheek deepen. “Your spontaneity and want for adventure always rubbed off on me.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” you lean in, gripping his shirt and pulling him into you. This kiss isn’t soft this time, it’s rough and needy. Twenty seven plus years of wanting this and it’s finally yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, you sure as hell weren’t going to complain about the amount of passion in it. The kiss was finally a way in which the two of you could express every deep and long buried feeling.

It was four months to the day since Stan showed up at your doorstep, and the two of you had only been apart for a week the entire time. You couldn’t get away from work again so soon and Stan had to go back to Georgia to pack up his belongings. The apartment that you had resided in soon turned into a home, all thanks to Stan. You two invited the rest of the losers over to visit, figuring that you had settled into your new relationship so easily you didn’t want to hide it from your friends. This time there would be no IT, no life threatening tasks to complete, and it’s the first time in twenty seven years that you would all be together. What you don’t know is that Stan is planning a big surprise, with the help of the most important people in your lives.

You run out to grab salsa from the store you swear you picked some in preparation for today earlier in the week, but Stan said there was none in the fridge. You drive as fast as you can, the losers club should be over within an hour, and you didn’t want them to beat you home.

The apartment is strangely quiet as you swing the door open; Stan isn’t muttering to himself as he goes over a client’s finances, and he isn’t sitting at the table working on a puzzle. Where is your Stanley?

Before you can get too worried, your brain immediately racing to the possibility that he is in your bathtub, that seeing everyone after all this time was too much for him, Eddie appears from the kitchen. You go to guilty greet him, feeling bad for being a bad hostess and not being there when he and Richie arrived, bet the hypochondriac cuts you off.

“Your smile that can light up a room,” he grins cheekily at you, like he knows something you don’t.

“Your smokin’ bod,” Richie joins the two of you, his laugh ending when Eddie smacks his gut. “Fine, fine, your eyes that sparkle when you’re truly happy.”

“How incredibly smart you are, especially when you find holes in the other lawyers arguments,” Bev winks at you, you look around desperately for Stan. Where is he? And what's going on?

“Your perseverance, you always make the hard days look easy,” Ben walks out and wraps his arm around Bev’s shoulders.

“How caring and understanding you are,” Bill stands beside Richie, the grocery bag with the salsa in it, on the floor and long forgotten.

“And that your voice can calm me with just one word,” you furrow your brows at Mike.

“Those are all things I love about you,” Stan’s gentle voice comes from behind you. You whip around to see his grinning face, no trace of fear or sadness from his past anywhere to be seen, only excitement for the promising future. “I could write a whole book of things that I love about you, but that still wouldn’t cover it all.”

“Stan?” your heart leaps at the glint in his eyes and the softness of his voice, things you want to experience for the rest of your life.

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N), with my entire being. I always have. When we were kids I knew I would marry you one day, I knew, even then, that there was no way I could live without you. So (Y/N)-” Stan pulls out a little black box from his pocket as he gets on one knee.

“Yes!” you exclaim a little too loudly as soon as he flips the lid open. The diamond is sparkling up at you, your eyes fill with tears.

“I didn’t even get to finish,” Stan pouts, humor and happiness twinkling in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he laughs, sliding the one carat ring on your finger. It’s a perfect fit, meaning good luck through some old superstition. “Just kiss me.”

Stan shoots up from the ground, grabbing your cheek in one hand and caressing it softly, the other slipping into your hair. You pull greedily at the front of his freshly ironed button up as he deepens the kiss. A moan escapes one of you, and from the sounds of how deep it is, you’re sure it was Stan.

“Get a room,” Richie wolf whistles, you and Stan pull away embarrassed.

“I can't wait until I can finally call you Mrs. Uris,” he breathes, ignoring Richie, as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Neither can I,” you close the distance and kiss him again, not caring about the audience, or the quiet sound of disgust from Eddie. Just because he makes out with Richie often, it doesn’t stop the thought of thousands of germs being passed back and forth when he sees someone else kiss.

You finally get your happy ending with Stan, after all of those shitty years without him, you two will never be apart again. And there is no better way to start the rest of forever together than with the help of the losers, your chosen family.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

Hi there! Could we also get a Valentines A-Z for Eugene Roe? I am hopelessly in love with that man

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

aren’t we all, anon? aren’t we all

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

Very subtly. Eugene Roe isn’t a “words” man --- his language is action, tiny gestures which show the people he loves how much he cares. When Gene cares, he cares a whole lot... so it’s important to him to do things for the people around him. He’ll fix a broken fence without asking, clean his mother’s kitchen, replace a vase of flowers if they’re starting to wilt. Little, practical things, which nonetheless show a depth of care for the other person, and an understanding of exactly what they need in that moment. If he’s really close to someone --- at a point where he feels perfectly comfortable with them --- he’ll also offer physical affection from time to time.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He actually knows a surprising amount about flowers and herbology, just from watching his mother, a passionate gardener. He’s not fond of store-bought bouquets. If possible, he’ll throw something together himself, just from what can be found in the local gardens, and it’ll look damn lovely.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not going to go feral over it, but he’s got a healthy appreciation for chocolate.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He’d love to do something outdoors. Maybe a picnic in a quiet place, on a sunny day, with a canopy of trees proving shade overhead. Dappled sunlight falls across his bare arms as he stretches out on the blanket, leaning slightly against his partner; they made sandwiches while he brought lemonade and fruit; the chocolate chip cookies are freshly-baked. There’s no chill in the air. Somewhere close, birds are chirping. The entire world seems completely at peace, and he’s so happy to be enjoying it with someone he loves.

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Gene’s really not a hugger... so when he does seek out physical affection, it means something. Maybe he’s emotionally exhausted, or maybe recognizes the other person needs it in the moment; at any rate, his hugs are like finally exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. They’re not too much, but just enough to leave someone feeling relieved, like a weight’s been lifted from their shoulders.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He’s got gorgeous eyes. We know that. Say that dark gaze locks with someone else across a crowded room, and draws them in instead of letting go... or perhaps they’re close enough that it’s easy to brush up against each other just slightly, hands accidentally caressing each other when reaching for the same thing... Gene’s flirting is very subtle, and has no right to be as seductive as it is. (Please note: this is strictly Sober Gene. Sober Gene and Drunk Gene are two very different people. Drunk Gene gives lapdances.)

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s okay at it. No one would call him a gift-giving master. Sometimes he gets it right and sometimes he gives Lewis Nixon a chia pet. When Gene gives great gifts, it’s clear how much effort he put into it; when he misses the mark completely, it’s hard to tell if he put any effort in at all.

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s guarded by necessity. Gene keeps his heart locked away behind no less than a dozen fortified walls. Breaking through them requires a wrecking ball, chocolate, and a lot of determination. He’s cautious, because when he cares he can’t help caring deeply, and quietly dreads the inevitability of getting hurt... but sometimes letting people in is worth the risk. He’s... still working on realizing that.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

... more difficult than it has any right to be. Again, Gene’s not great at the whole “expressing his feelings” thing. If he’s in love, he wants his partner to know it... but coming right out and declaring it is one of the hardest things in the world. He’d hedge his bets, working to show them his love rather than spelling it out. If he has a very verbally demonstrative partner, he’d be able to say it more easily over time, just because he’s used to hearing it... but on the rare occasions Gene does say “I love you”, it’s that much more precious, because he’s feeling it so intensely in the moment that he can’t keep it inside.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Oh, yeah. Ye-eeahh. Not over just anything, but blatantly obvious things --- like seeing someone flirting with his partner, or touching them shamelessly... it gets Gene riled up. He’ll loom over the interaction, not saying a word, but silently intimidating the hell out of the interloper until he backs down... and once he has, Gene steps up. He and his partner usually have to make themselves scarce quickly, because Gene can’t refrain from touching them. As soon as they’re alone... all bets are off. Instinct takes over; all Gene can do is press them up against the wall and kiss them, hard and hot, until all thoughts of that other fool have flown out of their head.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Gene starts out shy... but, with the right encouragement from his partner, finds his footing very quickly. Uses touches very sparingly, but with great effect; tends not to linger in a kiss for long, parting for air just to allow his breath to caress his partner’s flushed lips, before diving back in for more. When he really gets into it, Gene becomes hungry, clutching harder at his partner, sucking at their lips and gasping in the short pauses for breath.

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

He’s very devoted to his family, especially his grandmother when she was alive; Gene loves his hometown, everything about it, and he loves the people he’s grown up alongside. Certain people, like Babe and Renee, hold places of honor in his heart; once he’s grown to care for someone that much, he’ll do literally anything for them.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Gene is a morning person. It’s not by choice. If he knew how to sleep in, he absolutely would, but his body just isn’t wired that way. He tries to be romantic at night, but after a long day, he’s usually crashing by around midnight. Obviously when he forces himself to, he can stay up (copious amounts of caffeine helps) but any time he’s got the time is a romantic time, far as he’s concerned.

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

Gene is intense to the point that it’s nearly overwhelming. His caresses, his movements, his kisses... everything is charged with an electricity that can become overwhelming if his control slips. He’s a demanding lover, giving his partner little time to rest; his hands are doing one thing while his mouth is doing something else, all designed to elicit a reaction from his partner. It’s not something he thinks through in the moment --- Gene’s a purely instinctual lover, but he’s got some great instincts. Loves to have his mouth on his partner’s neck, slowly trailing down to their bare chest. He’s silent in bed, but vocal partners really do it for him; he could get off on his lover’s moans alone.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

Oooooh no, he’s not a “words” man at all! Gene struggles to verbalize his emotions; for as much as he feels deeply, getting those feelings out is like trying to speak a language he’s never learned. People close to Gene must learn to read his expressions and gestures, as well as his variety of “hmms”, because they say a lot more about how he’s feeling than he ever could.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Gene needs someone who cares. Not just for him, but... about lots of things. Everything. Gene is drawn to people whose compassion is endless, who make the room seem a little kinder for their presence. He also appreciates someone who can lighten the mood, because maybe he gets a little grim at times, and who can get him to smile even on his roughest days. He’d love someone with a good singing voice, and a grounded side, even if they don’t show it that often.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

(Go down and read ‘WEDDING’ first!) Once he’s made his mind up, asking is a piece of cake. He doesn’t go all out with the ring --- Gene’s not gonna marry someone who needs a huge rock on their finger, and frankly he can’t afford it --- but he finds the perfect place to propose. At the top of a hill, under a tree he used to climb as a little boy --- maybe the same place they had their picnic --- he won’t drop to one knee, but pull his partner close and slip the ring out of his pocket. A quiet “If you’ll have me,” is all it takes to make his intentions clear.

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s shy about his romantic side; it’s not something he likes showing off, because he feels a little silly for being taken in by all those fairytale ideas. Gene would love a scene out of a Disney movie --- rowing on the river with his partner with fireflies all around, or kissing each other in the rain. Thing is, those aren’t realistic things to want, especially not from someone who considers himself so grounded. Gene’s romantic nature is buried under a heavy layer of practicality, but he can be heartrendingly romantic when the situation is right.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

Nah. He was a real wild child in elementary school, and most of the girls were wary of him. By middle and high school, he kept to himself more, and didn’t have much interest in dating.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

He... genuinely doesn’t know. Maybe it’s real for some people, but until he’s experienced it himself, hard to say. It’s not something he thinks a lot about.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

He’s been burned before, and that’s hurt enough. Gene isn’t eager to have his heart broken entirely.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Lowkey, Gene would love to do something nice for Valentine’s Day... but he’d be hesitant at scheduling something himself, both because he’s bad at planning surprises, and because he wants his partner to enjoy themselves just as much as he is. He’d straight out ask them, “what do you want to do for Valentine’s Day?” and they can brainstorm from there. As soon as they’ve got a good idea, Gene will work out all the technical details... and from there, they can just enjoy the day. (Even if they’re not doing anything, he never forgets to get his partner chocolate, because that’s just a Valentine’s Day tradition that can’t be ignored.)

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

He... doesn’t plan on it, no. Doesn’t actively plan on it. It’s not something he has any interest in, or gives any consideration to, until he meets the right person. At some point in the relationship --- once he’s it’s casually occurred to him, “yeah, this feels right, I could do this forever” --- the realization will hit him like a ton of bricks. He wants to get married. He wants to spend the rest of his life with this person. He feels nothing for the idea of marriage, but everything for the person involved, so they’re his deciding factor.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

He’s veeeery sparing with nicknames. The only times he’ll use them are when he wants to put someone at ease (like when someone’s injured, and formalities have to be dropped, because they’re already panicked enough) or when he’s very close to someone. All his family has nicknames, and Gene uses those without a second thought; if he cares deeply for someone, it’s way easier to be informal with them. For a partner, he’ll still be sparing with pet names, but may throw out the occasional “cher/chere”.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

We talked about the jealousy thing, right? Gene’s protective streak is on a completely different level. He’ll throw down for the people he cares about, no question. For such an unassuming man, he can be fierce when pushed to it, and the one thing guaranteed to set him off is seeing someone he loves threatened.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

He had a few girls back home --- teenage experimentation, and it never really went beyond that. He’s also got that sexy Catholic Guilt going on, so he feels a bit bad about it; sleeping around is not for him. At most, Gene’s had... two previous partners.

#gene roe vc: i'm not a romantic... until i AM #eugene roe #band of brothers #headcanons

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devnny · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

AT LONG LAST!! my hiatus is broken! i’m very happy to present ch14... after months of failed attempts to finish ;-; thank you for all the kind messages in between 🖤🖤🖤 i hope you enjoy! :]c it's time for artist things, and bad memories!

[•/•/•• :

That one guy that paid me for that BIG ASS project, apparently, really liked it, and wants to see more of my paintings. Talked about exhibiting some of my shit in one of his galleries, if he likes any of ‘em. Neat.

…

And me and Johnny… had a… moment, or whatever. Whatever.]

Johnny sat wide-legged on the floor with a large crate settled between his knees, thumbing through the different paintings standing inside the box like records. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth while he inspected each one with intrigue – Devi’s work was always so fascinating.

“Why are you even looking through that old shit?” Devi asked from across the room, smiling slightly as she spoke.

“It isn’t shit, I think they’re… cool.” His lips stuck out in a soundless ‘ooh’ as he lifted up a small painting of a retching face. He bared his teeth at the agonizing expression like a mimicking chimp, then set it back down to sift through more artwork.

With the news that she may have another chance to exhibit her paintings in a gallery, Devi had started the tedious process of scrutinizing her available pieces to slap together a decent portfolio, which was fairly difficult, seeing as she was her own worst critic.

“Well ‘cool’ or not, that’s all over a year old. The likelihood I’d want to stick any of them in a portfolio is very slim.” Devi turned to look at him as she finished, but stopped with a sharp inhale when she saw which painting Johnny was holding now.

Johnny was fixated with the canvas in his hands, finding such familiarity with the large eyes and long, devilish smile of the demonic looking subject on it. The paint was very rough in texture, and made the whole piece look rather fleshy. He brought up a finger to poke at the lumpy marks while he thought.

“Is this… me?” Johnny asked absentmindedly. Devi felt a cold sweat prickle on the back of her neck, but waved off any shame she felt with a swat of her hand.

“Yeah.” She answered honestly. Her attention focused on the painting, and she tried as best she could to not feel the deep-seated anger and disappointment that resonated within her at the time she created it. “It was a vent art I did, some time after the whole… attempted-murder, thing.”

“Ah.” Johnny nodded in acknowledgment, his mouth settling into a slight frown. “Is this how you saw me? With all the blood and tentacles coming out of my head?”

Devi’s lips slanted uncomfortably. She leaned her weight onto one of the bigger canvases she had on hand, and sighed.

“No, not really.” Her eyes wandered away from Johnny as she thought. “I just kind of, went wild with it, I guess. Added gore and sharp lines and splatters wherever I felt like. It was supposed to represent a feeling, not really… a person. I mean, it is you, but it was more like the energy you gave off, not how you looked.”

Johnny nodded, his teeth poking out again as his smile returned.

“Neat…” He commented and turned the canvas sideways to inspect it further. Devi blinked in surprise at his response, then snorted after a minute.

“—‘Neat’!?” She asked with a laugh. “That’s what you think that is?”

“It is!” Johnny’s attention jumped to her again. “I don’t have any pictures of myself really, and definitely no paintings. It’s cool that it’s… symbolic. Not of a particularly great time in my life, or spurred on by any particularly great choices on my part, but still cool. I like seeing how your brains perceived me in such an inventive manner.”

“HAH! You are truly the weirdest guy I’ve ever known, Nny.” She chuckled, and returned to the pieces beside her. As she started to sort again, Devi paused, and began picking at the chipped paint on one of her canvases thoughtlessly.

“You know, um,” She turned her head ever-so-slightly in Johnny’s direction. “—originally, it was just a normal portrait of you. I’d started it before our uh, date, then altered it later…”

Her cheeks blushed faintly at the admission; it was so embarrassing to confess that she’d taken him as her muse before she’d ever even asked him out. Part of her still felt, with little room for argument, that Johnny didn’t need to know that, but in light of recent events, it also seemed stupid to hide things pertaining to her ‘feelings’ from him at this point.

Johnny’s head popped up, his neck and back straightened fully, as he turned to stare at her. Devi wasn’t looking at him, but he could tell by her meaningless fidgeting with the canvas in her hands that her attention was still on him. It brought a giddy smile to his face.

“Oh.” He hummed contently, returning his staring to the portrait. He wondered what it looked like before she riddled its face with globs of resentful paint. With a content sigh, he answered his thoughts; “I bet it looked nice.”

“Tch!” Devi held her laugh inside her throat. “I’m sure I gave you too much credit.”

“HAHAHA!” Johnny sneered a wider smile. His brain immediately imagined an overly-handsome depiction of himself, even though he knew Devi had better taste than that. So funny. He reviewed the portrait one more time, then set it off to the side.

“Hahh… I like it a lot.” He sighed, and laid down flat on the floor, legs still sprawled. “I like all your stuff a lot. Why are you so critical about your paintings?”

Devi cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to try and tell me you’re not critical of your own artwork, Nny?” Her words jabbed playfully in his direction, and he puffed his cheeks out in response.

“WELL…” Johnny huffed, making Devi laugh again. “Maybe the stuff I do now, but all my old paintings, all the stuff I don’t remember even making… no. But I guess it’s hard to be self-critical of something you don’t have any recollection of creating.”

He brought his one leg up high to lob over the crate in his lap as he rolled onto his side to face her. Devi greeted him with a look of pity, but with a degree of immense curiosity to it.

“Shit.” Devi thought a moment. “I don’t think I ever really saw your old stuff, actually.”

Johnny had described to her vaguely last year, and in much more depth this year, his style of painting that had long-since depleted into noncomplex stick figure comics. He explained it as being rough and gritty, with themes of decay, agony, and horror, and his subjects most often being flesh-like nonsense, or close-ups of distorted human faces. The oldest of the surviving pieces would dip into dark landscapes and actual silhouettes, but that was the extent of it.

“Man,” Devi sighed as she thought. “I’d love to see ‘em.”

The comment surprised him, and Johnny laid still on the floor as he watched her with large eyes. He rolled into a seat position after a moment, and moved his staring to the carpet.

“W… would you, really?” He asked tentatively. “A lot of them are still in okay-condition, they’re just… buried in my house...”

Devi replied with a few confused blinks, mostly in regard to Johnny’s sudden change in demeanor. After a moment of thought, she was delightfully suspicious that his timidness now was because of her absolute refusal to enter his house the day she assisted him with ‘moving out’. The concern he had for making her uncomfortable was as unfortunately endearing as ever.

“You wanna go pick some up?” Devi asked with a smile, and Johnny cricked his chin up to stare at her with redoubled surprise.

“Really?” He asked in disbelief as he scuttled to stand. “I mean, I don’t want to impose.”

Devi laughed at him and balanced the canvas she held against the wall.

“Yeah. I need a fucking break from looking at my own paintings.” She explained with a pop of her back. “Who knows, maybe you’ll inspire me.”

She shrugged the last of her sentence at him as she walked past, and Johnny pivoted to watch her leave the room. He always found her teasing to be so disarming, never knowing what to do when she threw the ball into his court. It was fun, in a way, but he was always nervous to banter back besides mock cynicism. It made his heart flutter all the same.

“If you’d like.” He called after her as he walked. “I just meant—you know, if you don’t want to go inside, and all.”

Johnny stopped in the living room when he caught sight of Devi at her bedroom door, already straightening a newly pulled on t-shirt.

“Your concern is appreciated.” She smiled at him, then reached around the door and grabbed one of her shorter jackets—it was just too balls-hot to be wearing her trench coat at this hour. Stupid summer weather.

Johnny grinned, though his smile melted into an awkward squiggle as Devi approached him with that accursed collar in hand. He’d grown accustomed to wearing it on outings, but he still loathed it. He would be happy to chop it up and burn the pieces, one day.

His malicious thoughts were short-lived, as Devi roped the accessory around his neck. She paid much less mind to not touching him these days, and the caressing of her fingers made him feel like his insides might liquify from the heat. She smirked coolly as she clicked the collar shut.

“Why don’t you drive?” She suggested, and Johnny was taken off-guard again. He hadn’t driven at all since he’d come to live here, what with Devi preferring to have control over just about everything. He raised an eyebrow, cautiously inspecting her expression, but was unable to determine if this was representative of anything.

“I don’t feel like navigating the suburbs to get to your place.” Devi provided for explanation as she moved to the front door, but Johnny remained unsure. Still, he went to fetch his keys from one of the art room drawers without prodding any further.

NOW ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN:

Devi had not been to Johnny’s neighborhood more than twice, and only once during daylight hours, yet she still managed to recognize some landmarks that signaled that they were getting close. One neighbor a few streets down had an absolutely obnoxious amount of pink flamingos in their yard, and another surely teetered the worth of their fragile masculinity on the pure number of beat-up looking muscle cars that lined their curb.

The car jerked as Johnny took a sharp turn onto a different street, and Devi sucked in a breath while she watched the addresses get closer in number to ‘777’. She stubbornly refused to let the sight of the ramshackle house bring her too much anxiety, but as they slowed beside it, and then turned up the slope of the driveway, the familiar shiver of distrust climbed up her spine. Johnny spared her a nervous glance.

“You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want’a…” He reiterated, in an effort to comfort her, but Devi only scoffed and started to exit the vehicle.

“NOPE.” She replied with a quick slam of the door. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

Johnny stepped meekly out of the driver’s side, and watched Devi glare at his ‘former’ place of residence. Guilt gnawed away at his stomach, well-aware of the traumatic memories of that evening that were still sealed away inside his house.

He’d lived with them long after their infamous date; tromping over the wooden floors that had served as her route of escape, or laying like a limp sock across the couch that would have been where they shared their first kiss. When he paused to dwell on those sorts of facts, remorse filled him each time, but certainly not to the extent that it used to. It wasn’t the soul-splitting agony that those first days had brought – it didn’t drive him into hysterics to catch sight of his bedroom mirror, nor did the thought of sitting on the right-hand side of his sofa.

But, of course, Devi hadn’t.

She didn’t muddle through that house for months, learning to accept the space beyond those fleeting, horrible memories. She hadn’t had to wander through the atmospheric fog of departed, romantic dreams, with its lingering tethers warping around her person like ghostly fingers, searching for what was lost. She didn’t find herself stepping on glass fragments even weeks afterwards, and having to force herself to accept, with tearful blinking, that there was no changing this; that this was her house, and there was no escaping what happened here.

Johnny frowned to himself, and started toward the front door, fretting all the way about what Devi’s response would be.

Devi gathered herself as she followed him up the pathway, and as Johnny fiddled with the lock, she spared a moment for a little flower that was poking out from the cracks of the cement. Symbolic, or ironic, she couldn’t decide.

The sound of the worn lock’s mechanics moving in sync with the key that Johnny jammed into it brought her attention up from the ground, and she steeled herself as he pushed the door open with a throw of his fingers. He remained on the front step with her, half-way shielding her from the innards of his home, as she peeked beyond the doorframe.

Even with her expectations low, she couldn’t help but blink her eyes wide in shock.

“Did you… throw out everything?” Devi questioned as she tried to peer past him and into the living room. The décor wasn’t particularly abundant the last time she had been there, but there was more on the wall than a weird little poster that said “I WUV YOU”, and certainly a decent amount of worn furniture. Johnny shot her a confused look, and waited a beat before allowing himself to relax into a smile.

“Oh, no.” He sniffed a laugh and took a few steps inside, loosely raising his arm to gesture to the far side of the room. “The TV n’ shit is just over here now.”

Devi poked her head past the threshold to see, and slanted her mouth uneasily at the sight of the stained sofa a few steps away. It looked even more beat up than the last time she saw it, but it was definitely still the same one. She smothered a scowl under her pursed lips, and fully passed the door’s threshold with a swing of her leg. It was just a stupid, dilapidated couch, she reminded herself—nothing to be wary of!

“My house got kinda wrecked after the wall-thing sent it careening through a tear in the dimension or, something like that.” Johnny continued. “Shit got tossed around everywhere, so I just pushed it all into one of the rooms… Pulled the couch and stuff back out after I came home a couple months ago.”

“That’s…” She cocked an eyebrow. “—I mean, at this point, sure, why not.”

Johnny snickered a little at her incredulous response, and continued further into the house, explaining in greater detail his decision making for what furniture he had rearranged and where. Devi paid little mind to his babbling as she gradually trailed his steps, taking in the house’s atmosphere with as little bias as she could. It was just as dingey as she remembered, and it did help her sore memories that it was basically gutted, aside from the worn couch and beat-up television. It barely looked like a house the way it was, instead looking more like a large shed. It definitely didn’t look like the place she remembered, and that was a very good thing.

“—I don’t spend much time in my bedroom, but I still thought it was important enough to leave it usable, so I just jammed everything in here.” Johnny finished, flinging open the door to his former ‘studio’. A few random objects fell and rolled out from the mass of clutter that loomed all the way to the top of the doorframe.

“Holy Hell.” Devi said loudly, aghast at the sight of the mounds of dusty debris and overturned furniture. There appeared to be parts of doors and chunks of ceiling plaster mixed in with the heaps of furniture and belongings, giving the entire mass the look of a true junkyard.

Johnny bend his leg up and reared it back as far as he could, before springing his heel out straight, sending most of the blockade crashing backwards inside of the room with one demanding kick. With the first heap out of the way, Devi could see more clearly that there was actually quite a bit of bare space inside. Enough floorspace to walk in, at least.

Johnny led the way, and sent a chunk of splintered wood clattering with a lazy punt of his boot. Devi watched it kick up dust as it fumbled along, then fall still near a pile of damaged Christmas decorations. The room was musty, and the only light granted inside the space was from the poorly boarded up windows that failed to stop the sun’s glow outside. She looked up to the ceiling for a light, but the only spot for one had a shattered bulb still twisted into the fixture.

“My drafting table was in here.” He mentioned offhandedly as he inspected a box.

“Ah,” Devi nodded in understanding. “so that’s why it took you so damn long to drag the thing out.”

“Well, yes, and the fact that it’s heavy as fuck.” Johnny snorted and peeled back the remains of an ironing board from its resting spot against the wall. It make a cracking sound, like bark being torn from a tree, then gave way in a small flood of junk to reveal some paintings hidden in the area behind.

“AH-HAH.” He cried in triumph, and moved proudly to the side to allow Devi the opportunity to inspect them first. Devi looked at him with an unsure expression, but decided to humor him and approach the pile as invited. As she stepped toward the stack, the twisting paint gathered her full attention, and she reached a hand out for it like a gleeful child.

She gripped the corner of the first canvas, and hoisted it up from the stack with a smooth pull of her arm. The rolling swirls of brushstrokes that greeted her brought a tantalized smile to her lips, and she had to extend the artwork out with both arms to continue her appreciation of it.

It was about three-feet in height—a fairly average sized painting—and was smeared with meticulous bends and curls of dark paint that made the two grim subjects look as though they were positively radiating in fear.

Gorgeous, she thought.

Devi gleamed, and set the painting to the side, eagerly reaching for the next one in the pile. Johnny watched her with uncertain, but very delighted, eyes. A timid smile bent his mouth as Devi reviewed his art. It was a lot different than her critiquing his current work, since these could actually be on par with what Devi herself might create. He desperately wanted her to be impressed, even though he could barely take credit as the artist anymore.

The painting Devi pulled out next was too large to properly view while holding, so she set it on the floor, tilted at an angle against a box, and stepped back a few feet to study it. Her lips parted with a curious exhale at the detailed eye in the center of the canvas, surrounded by flesh-like tethers and threads that seemed to keep it upright, like a spider’s web.

“Oh,” She breathed, and squatted down to see it more clearly in the wispy light. “I love this.”

The last of her apprehension of being inside the house flittered away as she absorbed herself in Johnny’s art, appreciating fully all of the effort put into the fine lines and details of this piece in particular. This one was definitely coming back home with her—she could already see it replacing that outdated movie poster in the living room.

Devi’s reaction surprised Johnny, and he dropped his neatly folded arms out from behind his back. He felt breathless, like he often did when Devi praised him, but to a much higher degree than usual. He watched her with a look of awe—she was completely captivated by one of his creations. One of the stupid paintings he almost loathed, simply because it was a symbol of the self he lost—because it was meaningless to him; no memory behind what drove him to paint it, or how he was feeling at the time, not even an approximate date as to when he made it.

But with the way Devi reviewed his work with such adoration… now, he felt pride. Real pride in his former abilities, and a deep, desperate desire to create something now that would make her react like this. Her expression could drive him mad; looking so brilliant and excited, with that bright smile, and eyes that shimmered just as brightly. His shoulders raised up to his ears in an attempt to quell is elation.

“Do you have more like this?” She turned her attention up to him with a grin, and Johnny held in a shiver.

“Oh—yes!” He nodded, happy to offer her more of what was currently invigorating her. “I do… but most of them are very large. Like, full-wall-size large, so they’re down in the basement… Perhaps another time?”

A nervous laugh accompanied his suggestion, and Devi nodded without argument, though a soft smile remained. She already knew what horrors he’d committed down there, and wasn’t keen on venturing down into what was formerly a demon’s torture den. Maybe next time, if there was a next time, she would have the bravura to follow him into the fucking abyss.

For now, though, she would remain satisfied with her newly excavated treasures—she could already feel her own inspiration spinning in her head in response to such fantastically morbid art. Something like these but the size of a mural? Now that she wanted to see!

They continued rooting through Johnny’s amassed garbage for a couple more hours, spearheaded by Devi’s eagerness to rescue as many paintings as she could from the bones of the decrepit prison that had stolen their creator away from them in the first place. By the time they were packing away all of the works that Devi wanted to bring back to the apartment, it was nightfall.

“Safe travels.” Devi commented with a smile to the stack of canvases tucked away in the back of Johnny’s car, then heaved the trunk lid closed.

Johnny stood off to the side nearby, surveying the night sky with a lofty smile. It had been a very long time since he stood in this driveway, watching the clouds drift over the starlit darkness in wispy smears. It was almost surreal how strangely foreign it felt now, but after the months of his nightly backdrop being the city’s lousy view, most often from Devi’s apartment windows, he had forgotten one of the few benefits to living in an unlit, ‘quiet’ suburb.

“What a lovely evening.” He hummed absentmindedly, and Devi turned to him with a questioning look, before moving her focus up above them.

“Yeah.” She breathed with a matching smile, and crossed her arms over her chest while she took in the view.

“On nights like this—when I lived alone—I’d always like to go up to the Hill.” Johnny said, eyes still trained on the glittering sky. Devi looked to him curiously again, and whether he felt her stare, or realized the significance of that spot between the two of them, he quickly turned to meet her with wide eyes. Devi snorted a short laugh, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Do you… want to go?” She asked him with dubious smile. Johnny stiffened at the question, grimacing at his carelessness.

“Oh—no, no, not at all! I’d never! That’s not what I—” He stopped, registering her tone only after he started his denials. “Um, well… I mean I would but, I’m not saying… I guess; do you want to go?”

Devi’s smile crinkled upwards more, teasingly, then she readjusted her arms while she looked off in thought.

She had already dredged through Johnny’s shitty little house of horrors, was she really prepared to delve even further into her freshly revived emotions tonight? It wasn’t like the hilltop was particularly connected to anything bad that happened that night, but it was still connected to said night, intricately-so. She drummed her fingers on her bicep as she debated.

She was very happy to be out of residence 777, but being there had brought her a little bit of peace. It wasn’t much, but a few hours’ worth of sifting through artwork was now the most time she had spent there, and it made the fading memories of Johnny’s Pillsbury-Doughboy-influenced attempt on her life a little less predominant. It wasn’t like she had any intention of spending more time there, but Devi did not like having any lingering fear for a dirty, eldritch-demon-housing shack, and the fact she could bear even a second inside with her head held high made her very proud.

So if she could handle such vicious, lingering resentment, surely she could handle a quick visit to a place coated with softer, waxy memories, accompanied by the individual that had made them so bitter.

“Sure.” Devi said finally, prompting a surprised half-smile from her companion. “The clouds are clearing, even.”

Johnny grinned fully, and took note of the brilliant moon starting to peer out from behind the thin clouds. He tried to quell his excitement as he urged Devi to the car, and quickly hopped into the driver’s side to begin the trip farther out of town.

A FEW HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE CITY:

Johnny was already regretting his request to visit his cliffside spot.

The drive out had been as casual as all their drives were now, with idle chatter about plans for the coming days and mockery over whichever handful of bad movies they’d ingested recently. The only real difference was that it was Johnny driving tonight, and with that being the case, the music droning beneath their conversation was marginally quieter.

But, as the vehicle climbed the dirt road to the top of the hill, Johnny had become more engrossed with the details that were so comfortable and pleasant.

Things were too pleasant. The mood was too kind and light, with the crunching gravel below the car’s tires, and Devi’s tittering laughter over something dumb he’d said. It reminded him far too intimately of the atmosphere that surrounded them that night, on that damned date. How stupid, he thought as the car came to a gentle stop at the peak of the mountain’s height, that it would be such airy, nice sentiments that tore and ripped the edges of his comfort zone.

After taking a moment to walk the measly fence that skirted the edge of the cliff, he and Devi both plopped down on the end of the car’s hood. Devi sat loosely, head tilted upwards as she enjoyed the first breeze the summer season had bothered to offer her. Johnny’s posture closed in tighter the longer he watched Devi relaxing.

She was so beautiful, wonderful—the same way she was before, maybe even more so. He could hardly stand to look at her, with her skin almost iridescent under the yellowing moonlight, and her sharp, blade-like hair cutting across the stars, almost dark enough to fool the eye into thinking someone had carved two pointed shapes from the shimmering sky itself. Johnny turned his gaze to the crusty earth below, and tried to steady his mind.

“Haven’t seen a view like this in a while.” Devi murmured, eyes transfixed on the flashing of some neon signs in the downtown area. Johnny only hummed in reply.

“I was actually up in the mountains maybe… half a year ago now? But it was waaay over… there.” She pointed to an adjacent set of hills further south. Johnny lifted his head and focused on the area she was pointing to with a curious look.

“I think it was that one.” Devi said half-committally, followed by a laugh. “That was the night that plane hit my apartments—y’know, the one I told you about, with the psychic fat lady downstairs and all?”

“Ah.” He replied with a nod of comprehension. “I’m sure that was quite a sight.”

“It was. Tenna and I sat up there for like an hour before the fire finally died down. A morbidly magnificent sight—even if the burnt fat lady smell permeated all the way up here.” Devi punctuated the comment with a mean laugh, and Johnny couldn’t help but join in her cackling. Dark humor was so delightful.

As their laughter quieted, Devi set her palms flat behind her and leaned back a ways to sigh out her last chuckles. Johnny watched her with a warm smile, as captivated as always by her every move.

He loved her laugh, and being the spark that set it off always filled him with immense pride and glee. He was fortunate that her sense of humor had consistently been on the same frequency as his own, and that she was sharp enough to match, and even outrun him, in verbal banter. It made it rather fun to back-and-forth, and send each other into hysterics. They did so quite frequently at the bookstore, though if Devi wasn’t on a break, they had to muffle themselves to an extent, lest a customer complain.

A gentle push of wind across his face reminded Johnny where he was, and intertwined that knowledge with his current train of thought. His heart pulsed with sinking remorse as he remembered the events that followed their first visit to the Hill.

“I wish I’d declined.” He said suddenly, voice low.

“Huh?” Devi turned to look at him, but Johnny remained slouched forward, elbows balanced on his knees.

“When you asked me to the movies,” he clarified. “I wish I had declined.”

Devi was taken off-guard by that, but shortly scoffed, rolling back into her leaning position with a slight smile.

“Why’s that?”

Johnny finally raised his head with a look of vaguely-annoyed disbelief.

“What d’you mean ‘why’s that’?” He grunted, and Devi breathed a quick laugh at his persnickety tone. He couldn’t help but smile too, though it fell away nearly as fast as it appeared.

“Because I could have spared you… all of this.” Johnny continued. “…I’d wanted to—to say ‘no’, I mean… out of habit. But I couldn’t because I just… really wanted to go. It sounded like so much fun, I thought it would be… fun.”

He hugged himself, staring out into the darkness of the road as his thoughts led him into a myriad of ‘what if’s. Devi observed his shape with a small frown; she was very much accustomed to Johnny’s habit of allowing his emotions to swallow him up, but at this point, she felt it was pointless for him to wallow in his regrets to such a pitiful degree. Their relationship had turned pretty big, fucking corner, recently, after all.

“Was it fun?” She asked him finally, smiling like she already knew. Johnny pouted at her.

“…Well, yes.” He sighed again. “If you don’t count the attempted murder, or the immense ass-beating you gave me after.”

Devi spat out another laugh at that, and looked down to Johnny with a tired smile when he tilted his head backwards to frown about it.

“—or the fact I got you infected with lose-your-creativity-and-kill-people disease!” He snarled, and laid back fully on the car’s hood to sulk. “I just—wouldn’t that have been better? If I just said ‘no, thank you’, and we kept being friends, and maybe you had found some nice person to date that wouldn’t try to kill you?”

“And you could’ve just gone on murdering for that wall-thing forever?” Devi asked him smugly. His eyes went wide at that, and he stopped to consider the idea.

He wanted to argue that no, the creature probably would have had him die at some point—he long suspected that it was the wall-thing’s desire to regain control over it’s doughy minions that had allowed him to die in the first place—but he couldn’t know that. It was very possible that he might have gone on for his whole life, or at least long enough to allow Mr. Fuck the autonomy that he so desperately desired, and who knows how detrimental to the world that could have been.

Devi observed Johnny’s uneasy, sad expression with a shake of her head.

“Look Nny, the thing is, if there’s an eldritch fucklord that births mental parasites, that target artists and-the-like, to gorge itself on until their victim is reduced to a worthless meat-husk, I want to know about it.” She gave him nod before looking off. “I don’t have to like it, but considering that it exists and it’s happening, I’m not going wish for blissful ignorance, blabbering spittle onto my bib like a fucking infant about bullshit that doesn’t matter. And if you just learned of a plague like that, wouldn’t you want the same?”

Johnny stared at her from his spot on the hood, surprised by her response. He couldn’t believe how easily her blunt take on things still sideswiped him from time to time; he really should be used to this by now.

“Heh… yeah, I guess so.” He looked off with a hesitant smile. Devi smirked with another roll of her head.

“And as absolutely horrible as it is, my… involvement meant that you died before things really got ugly… I’m still not happy about it, but I guess if you couldn’t truly ‘die’ no matter what, it’s not so bad, especially seeing as you’re free now.” She paused. “Well, mostly free.”

“GEE, THANKS.” Johnny laughed, and Devi arched into another laugh too. The pair giggled over their horrid luck for a few minutes, before Johnny’s mind settled on an old memory.

“Hey, do you remember that joke you said, after you told me you liked me?” His smile stretched wide enough to give a mischievous squint to his eyes. “About how you’d kill me?”

Devi blinked at him, mouth drawn low, before breaking into laughter again. She redoubled into hysterics when Johnny joined her, and she held her face in her hands while he gave the metal beneath them a few slaps amidst his cackling.

“WELL, YOU DID.” He reiterated the point, and Devi gave him a shove.

“Shut UP, Nny!” She laughed, and turned away from him to try and quiet herself, with limited success.

OFF TO A NEARBY 24/7:

Johnny winced his left eye shut as he gave the straw of his Brain-Freezy one more voracious suck, hoping to gather the last of the watery remains of sugar from the air bubbles at the bottom of his cup, but only really achieved making a repeating, cacophonous sound. Devi smacked him with the back of her hand, in a wordless way of saying ‘knock that off’.

They had stopped at the first 24/7 they saw, one on a normally unventured side of town, to pick up some snacks before returning home. The large advertisement in the window featuring disgusting gas station nachos had reminded them both that they hadn’t eaten since early that afternoon, and the lure of 2-for-1 deals on just about everything was hard to pass up.

“I think you got it all.” Devi said, flicking a crumb of tortilla chip off the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Johnny pouted at her before flinging the empty cup cleanly into the nearby garbage can.

“I’m trying not to be wasteful!” He defended himself as he started the walk back to the car. The rub of material against his neck reminded him of the goddamn collar he wore, and how the leash Devi had insisted on putting on him before they entered the store was, in fact, on him. She needed to have a little more faith! Just because they were in an even shittier part of town than normal, didn’t mean he would run off on a murderous rampage at the drop of a hat!

“Oh, you’re so frugal, my wallet thanks you.” Devi replied with a sarcastic smile, matching his stride as they made their way to the side of the building, where Johnny had parked.

Just when they thought they’d escaped humanity unscathed, a quick whistle hit their ears, and both eyerolled in the direction of God, to ask him with mixed expressions ‘why’. Devi and Johnny both turned toward the source of the sound, Devi looking somewhere between bored and irritated, and Johnny glowering just past her shoulder. She was unsurprised to see the group of men chatting idly on the other side of the small parking lot gesture in her direction.

“Heyyy, that’s kinda kinky—WOAH.” One of the men called, then stopped suddenly. He pushed himself off of the side of a car and started to approach them. “—No way!”

Just as both Devi and Johnny’s fight-or-flight responses had reached their peaks, the man spoke again.

“DEVI?” He said loudly, with an obnoxious smile. Devi blanched. The man had very few features she would find memorable; patchy dyed hair, brown eyes, tall and thin—could have been any number of guys she’d hung out with before… except for the eyepatch.

“Eddie!?” Devi replied with a horrified expression, and Johnny’s irises snapped to her, shocked that she actually knew this person. Eddie’s lip perked up further on one side, and he slapped a hand over his cheek with a laugh.

“WOW, it’s been forever, huh?” He gleamed. “But I knew it was you, cause of your face.”

Devi only stared at him with vague disgust, still too shocked to fully absorb the situation. She hadn’t hardly thought about this particular idiot since high school, the recent retelling of their failed date withstanding. Johnny scowled at their uninvited guest, but did his best to hold back the volatile feelings he already had churning in his gut.

“Who’s this little guy you’re with? Your boyfriend?” Eddie asked casually, without a braincell to stop him. He set the side of his hand against his mouth, and leaned further in Johnny’s direction, as if to whisper, only to say at a completely normal volume; “Don’t count on getting too much outta her—she’s hot, but she’s a total prude.”

Johnny stared at him with incensed disbelief at the comment, as did Devi. With thin pupils, Johnny jutted forward, still crouched, to rebuke the remark.

“NEVER speak about Devi in such a repugnant way—in fact, never speak about her at ALL, you cycloptic knuckle-dragger!” He hissed. Devi could only cringe as her mouth twitched into an uncomfortable scowl.

“Hey, don’t blame me for warning you dude, it’s true!” Eddie defended himself. “I took her out, paid for everything, and she wouldn’t even kiss me. I had to be dying before she agreed to at least sit on my face.”

“I NEVER SAT ON YOUR FACE, YOU DUMBASS.” Devi snapped, face hot. “That was the AIRBAG.”

“—See! That’s even worse. My dying wish, and she’d sooner just let me die empty-handed.”

“SHUT UP!” Johnny seethed, bowing out his stance. “Shut you fucking mouth—I’ll cut your dirty GODDAMN THROAT! You don’t deserve the privilege of speaking, you boorish ogre—I’d be doing the world a damn FAVOR redirecting your vocal chords into your ear canals! Maybe then you could hear the UNBRIDLED FILTH THAT EXPECTORATES OFF YOUR TONGUE!! I—”

While he ranted, Devi stood beside him, vibrating in insult. Eddie was her first ‘real’ date, and he was horrible one at that—she would have gladly never seen his dumb ass again. In fact, she had kind of hoped he had died in different sexually-motivated car wreck in the years since she last saw him, but obviously she had no such luck. The smarmy fucker, acting like he knew her, acting like he had any comprehension of who she was, or what drove her physically. BASTARD! Ugly, horrible bastard!

Devi bared her teeth; she wanted retribution! Her body ached, with pulsating, twitching fists, to obliterate Eddie where he stood. Her mind floated away from level-headedness, her anger coaxing her ever-closer to violence, tantalizing her with the beautiful release of emotion she’d be granted with a few kicks to his head. But, as her trembling hand squeeze the handle of Johnny’s leash, her cracking logic had a quick, hateful idea. She didn’t give herself time to reconsider, she just wanted out of this situation.

With wide, angry eyes, Devi stared at Eddie, then released her hold on Johnny and retreated to the car.

Johnny felt the tether around his neck go slack, and swiveled his head around in surprise to watch Devi’s withdrawing form.

“Aren’t you going to stop me!?” He yelled to her. Devi opened the car door and turned back to him with a glare.

“Stop you from what?” She said with a biting tone, then dipped into the car with a loud SLAM! of the door.

Johnny stared at where she had just stood, dumbfounded, then moved his attention to the loose leash dangling from his neck. After a few moments of consideration, a grim smile spread across his face. He was rather certain that Devi was, quite literally, turning a cheek to this exchange—and if she was leaving it up to him, Eddie would not be leaving unscathed for those repulsive comments.

He raised his head, and his posture, with dark shadows swallowing up his grinning face. Eddie cocked an uncertain eyebrow when he heard the creak of the vehicle’s trunk, and only looked more confused when met with the sight of the tire iron that appeared from behind Johnny’s back.

Johnny stepped closer, happy that the exchange had garnered the attention of the rest of Eddie’s little group; he hoped they would intervene, they were all just as shitty in his eyes! A set of eerily slow laughs emitted from his throat, that slowly hiccupped into something maniacal, as he brought up his weapon up above his head.

“That was baaad, Devi.” Johnny sung in a teasing tone while he drove, blood still smattered on his face and hands. Devi sulked in the passenger seat, glaring at the street signs as they passed them.

“Whatever.” She grumbled. Johnny giggled in reply; he rather liked when she was feeling vindictive.

“NOT TO WORRY,” He boasted earnestly. “I didn’t kill any of them—I knew you wouldn’t like that, so I only gave them all a some blunt-force trauma, just a bit of facial bludgeoning, promise!”

Devi looked to him with a grouchy frown, but rolled her eyes away after a moment, face falling into mock-boredom.

“Thank you, Nny.” She sighed. At least someone had some self-control tonight. She could only hope that her choice to let Johnny dish out the ass whooping that her wrath had so desperately craved had no adverse effects on his self-restraint—they’d both worked too hard to ruin it over Eddie of all things.

“You are ever-so welcome, Devi.” Johnny smiled, happy to exact some vengeance in the name of his dearest friend.

“Who was that moron, anyhow?” He asked casually. Devi huffed.

“Just some dick I dated in high school.” Another eyeroll. “He was the first guy to ever ask me out—I told you how it went, didn’t I? The date was bland and meaningless, but he thought it went well. The genius tried to convince me to screw him while he was driving, and when I said ‘no’ he tried to push the point and crashed the fucking car into a tree. Dumbass.”

Devi sneered at the memory, but was quickly shaken out of her thoughts when the car took a violent turn, leaving her to yelp and grasp onto the center console for balance. She snapped her head in Johnny’s direction as he drove at an increasingly fast speed.

“Nny, what the Hell!” She shouted at him, but Johnny was too focused on the road.

“WELL YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT!” He replied aggressively. “I’M GOING TO FINISH KILLING HIM.”

“NO, NNY.” Devi yelled, drastically grabbing for him, or the wheel, or both. Johnny shrugged her away, doing what he could to use his shoulder to keep her from interfering with his burning desire to murder. “Johnny!!”

(He turned back around, don’t worry.)

NEXT...

#FINALLYYYY WEEE #chapter #jthm #devnny #jtrm #mine #im v happy.. to have this done #7.5k words!! AT LONG LAST

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Mine - Killian x Reader (Spies In Disguise)

Well. Here is your introduction to this babe-!

GIF Credit: X

Mine / Blank Space / Feel Somethin’ / Glitter Makes People Happy / Fresh Start Fever / The Scientist

Author’s Note: Sooooo... I’m using Tristan/Killian interchangeably throughout the series, as I wrote the majority of this part before I watched the movie and really had many more thoughts on him, for now he’s referred to simply as Killian. I have waaaaay too many plot points to work through with this man. So, here we are!

Part 1 of a 5 part movie prequel series. So, there’s quite a lot of set up. As usual, bear with me! Note: Just because I sometimes like talking about my OCs/Readers - this reader was originally created in 2014 - I’ve already used most of her aesthetics elsewhere but... it’s nice to get to use the parts of her I scrapped here. The joys of Killian being cybernetic, I guess!

Disclaimer: I own no characters or plot lines from Spies in Disguise / Lyrics not mine. / Some of this is Ben Mendelsohn in promo interviews’ fault...!

Premise: After a particularly rough interrogation encounter, Killian takes you to safety in order to recuperate...

Words: 3282

Warnings: N/A. There aren’t any spoilers for Spies... in here, but to be on the safe side, proceed with caution!

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I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts I say, "Can you believe it?" As we're lyin' on the couch The moment, I can see it, Yes, yes, I can see it now Do you remember, we were sittin', there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together And there's a drawer of my things at your place You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes Do you remember all the city lights on the water? You saw me start to believe, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

You said, "I'll never leave you alone" You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water. And every time I look at you, it's like the first time. I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter. She is the best thing that's ever been mine."

---

* System Failure * -> Reboot Required --> Recalibration in progress ---> Reboot whole system? -----> Full system reset in operation -> Standby... 5...4...3...2... Rebooting.

You opened your eyes slowly, everything hurt. But it was a strange pain that seemed to dull with every second of regained consciousness. Everything was too bright and you grumbled to yourself and shielded your eyes - burying your head into whatever you were lying on. But with your body complaining at you, it was impossible to lie here and fall back to sleep - and even more impossible for a slight feeling of unease to not creep over you.

You hadn't fallen asleep here. In fact you couldn't even remember falling asleep... And the scratchiness of whatever you covered you wasn't sheets. Your eyes opened again and you realised from the polished grey flooring you weren't in a bedroom either. You sat up - grasping immediately for the jacket falling from your shoulders - to keep that warmth around you.

You slipped off the plush couch, drawing it around you, stretching your legs out. they still complained at you, but you were all but ignoring them now. The simple black dress you were wearing came to barely above your knees - had you even been wearing that? - why was your memory so fuzzy? You took a deep breath - and that helped nothing. Your heart suddenly leaping out of your chest at something so familiar to you; the scent of his cologne. You would have scanned the room for a clue of some kind - shoes? Heels maybe? This was a suit jacket after all... Dinner? That's what the attire said. But it wasn't what the scenery said. You kept walking towards the bright white reflecting through the window.

You found yourself staring at a seemingly endless mountain range - pure white snow covered nearly everything. The window seemed to also stretch for infinity, even in its many panels - curved around this side of the house. You stared hard at the breath-taking view for a minute. How gorgeous the blue of the sky was today… You pulled that jacket around you tighter still, looking to the stone below you carved smooth in order to build this base up here. The helicopter stationed on its pad let you know he was probably still home. But as you drew your gaze up, along with your smile, you noticed something else. And had to drop your grasp on the jacket - it lay itself over your shoulders, as if it was just as unwilling to let go of you - and you gasped, examining your wrists. They were faint, but both of them held ligature marks. You stretched them out in front of you. That looked bad - that looked very bad... You rubbed them, as if hoping that would also bring the memory back - but nothing. Holding them close to your chest you bit your lip, hard, and looked out to the mountains again. There was nothing you loved more than being here. But this time was different. And it was the first time you'd ever been fearful.

The footsteps echoed down the hallway, but you didn't turn until you heard them descend the steps into the living area. Step, step, step. Now you knew there should have been two more - so the pause made you turn. Killian was leaning against the wall, looking you over curiously. He was wearing your favourite deep blue shirt, and the jacket to go with his suit was clearly still around your shoulders. "You're awake. I thought it would take more out of you than that. I'm surprised..." You turned away from the window fully then, "...I can't..." "Remember anything?" He stepped forward, two steps and then across the room in slow strides. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you should be scared of this man. That it was something you'd been told often... Or... At least recently; it was just about reachable in your memory. But you weren't. And you knew that you never had been by the smile you felt developing on your face. "I'm sorry..." His voice was soft, "I'm working on that... It's not as easy as I wish it were." "What happened?" "Lance Sterling happened, as ever. It took me about 4 days to locate you - I'm sorry. You kinda got yourself out..." He indicated to your wrists. "But it took a lot out of you, so I brought you back here to recuperate." "Killian..." You breathed, remembering the name, and looked back to the window, "...I'm sorry." You knew it was probably a lot of trouble and time he didn’t have to even pick you up – and if they had found a way to track you, this sanctuary was no longer safe. "Woah..." His footfall now put him directly in front of you - and his fingers touching your skin shocked you, making you step away from him with wide eyes. Killian dropped his hands; "I'm sorry... That's an effect of your recalibration." He tilted his head frowning; “…But you don’t need to be.” Sorry; he meant. Somehow you knew the right thing to do was say "What have you done to me this time?" "I told you - I'm not messing with your tech. But sometimes you're reckless and you drain your human body. Just because your legs can carry you forever doesn't mean they should." You couldn't really remember him telling you that, but you took his hand back in yours - senses running on overdrive, you could feel every ridge in his fingertips; "All you need is rest, Y/N... And you'll be fine. I was just coming to check on you... It'll be the chip..." He indicated to the couch again, "Please sit."

You inexplicably trusted this man - and you did as he asked with no questions. Killian held out his hand and you knew to put your right in his. Watching him press down for a number of seconds something mechanical clicked, and your right arm lit in sparodic places before a tiny compartment opened up. But something in your head was still telling you this was routine. He had a small device with him, and he plugged it into the compartment. Immediately it beeped. Brain too fuzzy to decipher the numbers you were squinting at; it didn’t take him nearly so long to sigh deeply and chide you; "Your heart rate is elevated... You don't need to be afraid of this..." "I know." But did you? Killian nudged you as further data flashed up; "No you don't... You're running on your chips; your brain is still dormant. And I told you I wasn't going to run you like this." He shook his head, muttering “I knew those idiots would never listen. The tech is too smart for its own good… And they’re too stupid to calibrate it properly.” You thought that was a little ironic considering Killian had just confessed he’d probably done the calibration wrong himself, but thought better to hold your tongue. Besides, all he did was leave you confused; "Meaning what?" He turned his blue eyes back on you, unsure if he should go on. But gave it to you in its simplest terms; "You're sleep walking." "What?" How was that possible? You were conscious, right? Sleep walkers usually had no idea what was going on. You might not remember anything prior to this, but you were aware this was really happening right now. "You won't remember this when you wake up... But you'll remember everything else." So why should he bother explaining it in technical terms you would actually understand, when Killian knew he would just have to do so again later. "Sleep walking?" "I'm talking to a computer. That's creepy isn't it? I told you - They should never have performed the operation..." "But you're glad they did. Or I wouldn't be here. And then where would you be?" That also felt like something you were supposed to say – that he had told you enough times. "Hush..." Killian brushed his hands over your exposed legs, and you gasped, "You feel this?" "Yes." And this time you were aware of your elevated heart beat, and the heat of his palms on your thighs – test or not. "Then your body will be fine. And when you actually wake up, we're talking about that chip. I'm for taking it out of you. For now, you're going back to bed." You looked to the little device again, more than a little scared. What would he do? Force a system shut down?

"Y/N..." You looked back into his eyes, "Whatever your warning system is telling you, you're going to fall asleep naturally. Don't start thinking I'm using this. You're safe." He unplugged it very carefully, every movement slow so you could track it, before he stood - "But you can follow me..." You did as Killian asked, and walked with him up the corridor. But it wasn’t long before he tapped one of the many doors. "Bed. Rest. Now." Then he walked to places unknown. Your eyes followed him for a little while until he was out of sight, and your heart seemed to sink – you missed him already – before you opened the door and found yourself in a bedroom. Again, something about this was so familiar. And you instantly felt tired. You knew the bed was a soft, warm, safe space and smiled. That man was right.

When you woke again, you wished you hadn't. And everything hurt. For real this time. Sometimes being cybernetic wasn't all it was cracked up to be - and that was the last time you tried to snap handcuffs in an interrogation room to escape. Killian was who they really wanted, of course, but you were (on occasion) his assistant, and the H.T.U.V would take what they could get... And… well, you were also a lot more than that. So they probably had surveillance footage of the two of you together in many places. You were never trying to actively hide, an easier target than the man you were with. You sat up, head throbbing. And the next thing you heard was a series of beeps. You turned around; "Oh god. Can't you give me 5 minutes?" Your shiny blue metallic assistant drone, KiTT, whined at you sarcastically again. And you wanted to kick it. "Yeah, I'm aware... Where's Killian?" More beeps "Oh. Figures..." He’d probably sent your drone up to check on you; sometimes that proved less helpful than he wanted. You stood and almost immediately stumbled, having to rebalance yourself; "...Sometimes I really hate my parents..." This hadn't been your decision after all. Everything from your waist down - and a major portion of your arms were now cybernetic. To look at you, you were a regular human, but there was nothing regular about what was underneath your skin (synthetic or otherwise). It had been caused by a lab explosion that should have taken your life, more than ten years prior. This tech would save it, for a price your parents would pay. And here you were. You took your steps slowly up the corridor as the two parts of your body readjusted themselves to Killian's new calibration. You already didn't like it. And he would, as always, love your complaining. Meeting a man with as much of a knack for robotics as you wasn't coincidence. But he was something else entirely – he was almost too smart to be just the person he was. Sometimes you wondered why he wasn’t a little more legitimate, or why he wasn’t just a scientist himself. You suppose it ran further back than he was prepared to admit to you. And everything was always so shady when he was out here and you were calling him by a different name… He financed things less than legal, and you were pretty sure he made all his money the same way. Still, it always came back to technology and it was where both of you were most at home. When you reached the labs, all was strangely quiet. KiTT continued to follow you, a nice dull hum that you had grown used to over the years, and were oddly lost without no matter how damn annoying it could be. You didn’t like the thought of Killian down here alone and left to his own devices, but you supposed this was only for your sake. He would rather be out there with his various factions – doing whatever it was they all did on a daily basis. You already knew none of it was good. When Killian dropped you back in civilisation he’d go off and get Lance and co chasing him around again – and you’d go back to the innovation lab you worked at, until he needed you or you saw him again – sometimes just by happenstance. And that’s how life was. You paused every so often at various research stations and abandoned work benches. Killian clearly hadn’t been alone long, and whatever he was working on seemed huge. Nightly news reels were calling, you could feel that.

You eventually found him, sitting staring at research. By now your assistant had flown over to another part of the lab, to continue the work Killian had put him on before sending him to check on you. “What have you got KiTT doing for you?” “Nothing you wouldn’t have him do...” You glanced suspiciously from your other half over to KiTT, welding pieces together “He’s not YOUR assistance drone.” Killian kept his blue eyes on his monitor for a moment, “You’re the one who won’t tell me who built him.” “I built him!” You took immediate offence to that, and folded your arms. “Yeah But you said it yourself, he was a kit.” Which Killian always assumed was where his name came from “I modified him a little...” You continued to watch, concerned as KiTT carefully drew out and inserted vials of vibrant liquid into whatever he was building. Killian sighed, knowing that look well “If you don’t want me to use him, I’ll stop. But then either you have to get more involved - and you want to be the neutral one - or I need the name.” “I get worried he’s gonna get hurt!” That was a No, then. “I sent him to look after you.” “So you didn’t have to deal with the sarcasm any longer?” Killian gave a shrug, that accompanied his smile, hitting a few keystrokes - “He doesn’t sass me.” “Yeah I bet-! Too scared!” “Am I scary?” Right now no. But he damn well could be – you’d seen the outcomes of this line of work. “Intimidating. Up there at the lofty heights of... 6...?” “Classified!” You scoffed “As if your height is classified.” “Definitely is.” You squinted at his monitor, now more interested in whether that would tell you what your drone was doing; "What are we stealing today?" He chuckled; "No. I'm just researching." "Yeah, what to steal next." You leant against his desk, eying him; "Do you ever stop?" "Do you?" He turned to you slowly, fixing you with blue eyes that could easily see right through you. Sometimes he made you feel guilty even when you had nothing to hide. You held your hand’s up defensively, knowing he was immediately talking about the interrogation; "I didn't say anything!" "No. I know that." "Going through my memory bank now-!?" Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. If Killian had access to the chip, he could do whatever he wished. "I would never do something like that. I just know you. How are you feeling?" At least you knew him well enough to know that was true, and you appreciated his concern. "...I... Guess I've felt better..." "Well. Yeah, your calibration went wrong - my mistake." "Sorry!?" Killian wasn’t usually one for making mistakes, let alone admitting to them when he did. "I need to take that chip out of the base of your brain, I think." You scoffed, "And kill me? That's the reason all this works!" You presented yourself to him. "I know..." He held his hand out for yours, attention now all on you, voice low, "But I don't like what it's doing to you. I can make a better one." "Ehhh... Should I trust you?" You allowed Killian to pull you to him, and wound your arms around his shoulders. It was really a rhetorical question, if he wasn’t tuning up your robotics you were doing it yourself. "If it's the only thing you do." "Complex operation?" Though you knew the answer before he gave it. "Majorly." He gave a shrug; "I just want that thing out." His fingertips ran up your back, halting at the top of your neck; if he pressed down hard enough he could feel the offending object under your skin. You knew Killian wouldn’t say something like that without reason – you doubted even this man would risk your life, you traced your hand up to meet his, fingers lacing together; "...What happened?" "Well, it can wake you up without you being conscious - that's the stuff of nightmares. And that knowledge alone should be enough to convince you!" You opened your mouth; "Do...I want-" "No." He pulled you onto his lap and tucked your hair back, "I'm going to need to repress it. Your entire system rebooted and took you with it. Not good - probably my fault. But it's not doing it again..." He indicated to his other screen, upon which displayed a schematic of your robotic and synthetic material - "I'm going to put in a fail safe." Killian always explained everything he did to you in great detail, and only tuned you up if you agreed to it.

You narrowed your eyes, sitting back against his chest; "I thought you took the last one off…?" "Yeah... I did. Because that one was holding you back. Whoever made this for you decided to give it one basic function." Killian also only messed with anything if it was going to perform better than what was already there. "Which is?" "To function." You could have finished that for him. They taught you how to use it. The basics. But let me show you how to employ it. The potential of what you have should be realised, Y/N! You weren't sure it wasn't for his own ends. But one thing was for sure, until he showed otherwise, you'd trust Killian and his judgements. "Do it." You weren’t even sure you wanted to hear the what or why – you trusted him implicitly, whatever he would do for you would be for the best. You almost slipped from his grip; thinking the conversation was over – before he pulled you back, hands taking yours; "Hold on. I have to test it all first, I'm not just putting that chip in you..." You turned back to him, "Oh! And here you had me all excited!" “It’ll be finished in a few days. I don’t want to put you through a complete system overhaul twice in one week.” You folded your arms with a smirk; “This is just a ploy to keep me here all to yourself, Killian, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes, question left unanswered, "Now hush for a minute and tell me which diamond you like best?" You made yourself more comfortable in his arms and studied the screen; "So you are stealing diamonds." "Yes. We're stealing diamonds..." He kissed your hair gently, making you absentmindedly smile and nestle further into him; "Now pick one!"

---

Hit me up - he’s not going anywhere! This is only fic 1/? (All Five parts of this are also started. FYI 😊😉)

Note 2: I had a plot point to do with the drones that I kinda had to kill due to the movie... - but I wanted her to have one as an assistant, so. Here’s KiTT. I’m keeping him.

Who do I even tag?! Are we all interested in animated bois voiced by Ben Mendelsohn fics? @xxstar-bluesxx - Thank you for your patience! 💜💙😊 @3134045126 - my girl 😉 Just you wait-!

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.

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styles-is-the-name · 4 years

Text

Just Before You Go - Part Three

this is my first shot at a harry-y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. Harry is a single father of two that hasn’t even looked at another woman in years. For the first time in five years, he finally feels like he’s returning to himself all because he met someone unexpectedly at a grocery store. Even though his kids are determined to help him find love again, will it be possible? (There eventually be smut, but will mostly be fluff.)

TW: suicide, self harm, and others will occur

Word Count: 2,399

“Harry, you do absolutely amazing work!” Your eyes widen slightly as you continue flipping through his books looking at different tattoos he’s done over the years. Each one is beautiful and unique.

“Thank you, love. I’m not like a traditional tattoo artist if you couldn’t tell. I won’t do any tattoo that another artist has done.”

“So if I were to ask for a butterfly, you wouldn’t do it the same way another person did?”

“I would ask you why you want the butterfly and depending on your response, I will find a butterfly that suits your reasoning perfectly.”

“Do you know about the butterfly project?”

“I sure do. Is...is that why you want one?” You look down breathing out shakily and nod nervously. He sits down next to you gently placing his hand over yours. “I’m here for you, Y/N. I know that we just met and you don’t trust me yet, but I am here for you.”

You smile up at him through tears and nod not able to speak fearful that you might start crying. He hands you a tissue and you dab the corners of your eyes trying not to ruin your makeup. The two of you look over at Darcy who is petting her cat lovingly.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at you widely. “She looks exactly like her mother did.”

“She mentioned...you know...what her mother did.” You say softly not sure how to approach the topic. He sighs shakily leaning back on the couch.

“She really struggled with postpartum depression after she had my son. I didn’t realize it was as bad as it actually was. I spent more time with the kids than I did with her. She...she cheated. And when I found out...she killed herself in front of me.”

“Harry...oh my god. I’m so sorry.” He nods awkwardly trying to blink back all the emotion he feels right now. You decide to change the topic to help him out. “So should I bring anything to dinner tomorrow? I can bring dessert.”

“You cook?”

“I do, but I mostly bake.”

“The kids love baking.”

“So maybe...I can bring something over and we can cook and bake together.”

“Like a family.” He smiles lightly at you making your heart flutter.

___________________________

The whole day was so miserable and long for you. You were impatient and you hated it, but you managed to get some of your job applications sent out. Hopefully you’ll be hearing back from schools within the next few days. One of the only good things about who your father is is that he sends you money every week. That’s how you’ve been surviving.

Around three, you decide to call your best friend, Louis. He’s always good to talk to in a crisis or a fashion emergency and in your case, it’s the latter.

“Y/N!”

“Louis!”

“What’s up, babe?”

“Okay so. There’s a lot I have to catch you up on.”

“Is there a guy?”

“How did you know?”

“I haven’t seen you this happy since-“

“Don’t even say his name. I swear to god I will fly to New York and rip out your vocal chords.”

“Okay! Okay! Calm down. But anyway. Spill the tea!”

“Well I was at the grocery store yesterday and I met this man.”

“Name? Age? Nationality? Religion? Race? Relationship status? Criminal record?”

“Louis! Oh my god. His name is Harry Styles.”

“Oh my god that’s amazing. Imagine him so deep inside of you that you start scream-“

“OKAY! Okay! Enough!”

“Continue.”

“He’s a tattoo artist.”

“Seriously? Dude that’s so cool! Maybe I should make a trip out there.”

“Oh my god he’s amazing, Lou. He showed me some of his past tattoos and they’re all amazing.”

“You’ll have to send me pics.”

“I will the next time I’m at his shop.”

“You went to his shop?”

“Just shut up and let me talk!”

“Okay bossy.” You roll your eyes giggling.

“Well he has a British accent.”

“That’s your weakness!”

“I know! He’s a single father.”

“How many kids and how old?”

“Two. Darcy is nine and she's the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. I haven’t met Carter yet, but he’s six and adorable.”

“And their mom? You don’t need a crazy ex around.”

“She’s not in the picture.”

“Seriously? She had two kids then just left?”

“Lou, it’s more complicated than that.”

“Well, tell me!”

“She killed herself.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know. But Darcy is really trying to get us together and guess what.”

“What?”

“Every Tuesday they have taco Tuesday. And they invited me tonight.”

“Yasss! My girl is gonna get some dick tonight!”

“Louis! Oh my god. Why did I even bother calling you.”

“Because you probably need help picking out an outfit.”

“Yeah I do. I don’t wanna be too dressy, but I don’t wanna be too casual either.”

“You know that yellow, flowy top we bought before you left?”

“The one that has ruffled sleeves and goes down to my thighs?”

“Yeah that. Wear that with leggings and sandals.”

“And my hair?”

“Braid it to the side and natural makeup.”

“Thanks, Lou. I owe you. I gotta go though so I can be there on time. We’re cooking together.”

“Awwww! You’re a little family already!”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Love youuuuu!”

“Yeah yeah.” You hang up giggling then rush to get ready.

_______________________

“But daddy! It’s not fair! Why did Darcy get to meet her and not me?!”

“Bubba, I already explained this to you. Darcy was at the store with me, but you get to meet her tonight. She’s coming over for dinner.”

“But I wanted to find you a girlfriend!” Harry blushes bright red. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to have you called his girlfriend (if it weren’t too soon, he probably would ask you to be his girlfriend himself), but having your kids talk about it is just a little weird.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Carter.”

“YET!” Darcy looks at Carter smirking.

“Jinx! Knock on wood. You owe me a soda!”

“Daddy.” Carter whines looking up to Harry.

“I need you both to be on your absolute best behavior tonight okay?”

“Okay daddy.”

“Yes daddy.” Carter leans closer to Darcy. “Is she pretty?” Darcy giggles and nods. Harry rolls his eyes sighing.

“She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful. But we just met, guys. Nothing serious is going to come from a din-“

The two are running towards the door before Harry can even finish. Darcy opens the door right as you were reaching to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N!” She hugs you tightly catching you off guard. You hug back smiling lightly and wave to Carter.”

“Hi guys!” Harry walks over wanting to just melt into the floor seeing how embarrassing his kids are being.

“Guys, let her in! Let her in.” Darcy let’s go of you and let’s you walk inside.

“Woah.” You look around at the beautiful interior. “It's beautiful in here!”

“Daddy said you’re beautiful too!”

“Carter!” Darcy nudges him with her elbow.

“What?! He did!” Harry squeezes his fists biting his lip nervously.

“Well, your daddy is very handsome.”

Harry can’t help, but smile. He feels like he’s in high school again. He just met you yesterday and his heart is already racing when you compliment him. The only difference is that he is twenty-six almost twenty-seven and he knows it’s not just some school girl crush. It’s more than that. He hasn’t felt like this in nearly five years and to say that it’s terrifying doesn’t even come close to how he feels.

“Darcy, you were right! She is really pretty.”

“I know!” The two giggle running into the living room. Harry looks up to you blushing deeply feeling bad.

“I’m so sorry. I told them to behave. Looks like they decided not to listen.” You giggle.

“It’s okay, Harry. I wasn’t sure what to bring for dessert so I just brought stuff to make homemade chocolate chip cookies.”

“From scratch?”

“The best way to make them!” He leads you into his kitchen talking over his shoulder to you.

“My mum used to bake cookies from scratch and she would have them ready for when I got home from school. I tried to figure out how to make them the way she does, but I never could figure it out.”

“The secret ingredient is sour cream. Sounds disgusting, but it just makes the cookie more moist. Also, milk instead of water.”

“I knew the milk, but not sour cream. God I worked in a bakery as a teenager. I should know these things!”

“Awww little Harry in an apron!” You hold your heart jutting out your bottom lip. You see his gaze move down to your lips and your knees just about give out on you.

“Just be thankful my mum isn’t here. She’d be showing you all sorts of baby pictures.”

“We should have invited her then! I’d love to see those chubby baby cheeks. I love babies.”

“What’s your favorite age to teach?”

“Probably both elementary and high school.”

“Not middle school?”

“Oh hell no. Those brats are so rude it’s not even funny. And they’re too hormonal.”

“I would’ve thought that high schoolers are more hormonal.” You sit down on the counter popping a cherry into your mouth while watching him roll his sleeves up. Your mouth waters but you can’t tell if it’s from the cherry or his tattoos.

“That’s what you’d think, but they have the majority of their hormones in check. I mean think about it. Most girls start their periods in six grade. That’s around the time that guys started yanking off to socks.” His laugh sounds like music to your ears. You’d do anything to hear that again.

“True. I love how you put it like that.”

“I mean it’s true! I’ve heard most guys prefer socks over the male dildo vagina things.”

“What guys have you been talking to?!”

“My brothers and my best friend.” You shrug amused by the conversation.

“Well I just prefer my hand.”

“But doesn’t that make a mess?”

“If you aim right it shouldn’t.”

“Oh my god. I’d struggle if I were a guy for a day.”

“How so?”

“My aim sucks. I wouldn’t be able to even pee.” He throws his head back laughing.

“Well if I were a woman for a day, I wouldn’t be able to leave my bedroom.”

“Why? Too busy fingering yourself?” You giggle rolling your eyes.

“Eh. I’m more of a tits guy.” Just the way he said that makes you feel light headed. You know you need to change the subject before you have to go to the bathroom.

“Oh whatever. Anyway. Tell me about yourself, Harry.”

“What do you wanna know, love?”

“Anything and everything.” Harry hands you a pan and the package of meat. You pop another cherry into your mouth before hopping off of the counter and turning the burner on.

“Well, I was raised in Holmes Chapel.”

“Isn’t that just a few hours outside of London?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty small town, but it’s lovely.”

“Why’d you move here?”

“For uni. Three of my lads and I moved here. We got an apartment and went to uni together.”

“What do they do for a living?”

“Well Niall owns his own club. Zayn is a model. And Liam is about to graduate med school.”

“Oh wow. That’s a big variety.”

“I know, but I know who to go to for free drinks and surgery if needed.” You laugh while pouring the meat into the pan. This isn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. It’s actually pretty fun.

“Where did you go to college?”

“We went to NYU but Liam is at Chapel Hill for med school.”

“I went to NYU!”

“No way! Class of 2012.”

“Class of 2014!”

“We probably saw each other around campus then. You were a sophomore when I was a senior.”

“I actually went to your graduation. My best friend Louis was graduating.”

“Louis? As in Tomlinson?”

“Oh my god. You know him?!”

“Yeah. We were pretty good friends. We lost contact a couple years after graduation sadly.”

“Maybe you should reconnect.”

“I would love to, but I don’t even know how to get in contact with him.”

“Here. I’ll FaceTime him.” You walk over to him touching the small of his back while FaceTiming him.

“Wha-“

“Y/N? Oh my god! Harry! I was wondering if you were him!”

“Lou! Hey man!”

“How’s life?!”

“It’s great! You?”

“Wonderful. I’m actually thinking about proposing to El.”

“Oh my god. That’s awesome!” You give him the phone giggling. It warms your heart hearing the two of them get along. They’re the two most important guys in your life right now. And you have a feeling that Carter will probably be the third.

You walk into the living room and see the kids watching tv. You lay down dramatically with your head in Darcy’s lap and your feet in Carter's.

“Hey! Your feet are smelly!”

“Hey!” You pout sitting up. He giggles and jumps into your arms making you groan.

“Just because your feet are smelly doesn’t mean I don’t want cuddles.” You laugh holding him close.

“Alright. What are you guys watching?” Darcy pauses the tv looking at you.

“There’s nothing really to watch.”

“Do you have Disney plus?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what to watch.”

“Have you heard of Wizards of Waverly Place?” They both shake their head no making you grin. “When my brothers and I were growing up, we would watch it all the time. It’s about two mortals that have three kids that are witches.”

“What are mortals?” Carter looks up to you confused.

“Mortals are people like us. We don’t have any powers.”

“I’m not a mortal! Daddy says I’m Superman!” You laugh pinching his cheek.

“You sure are Superman!”

“Can we watch it, Y/N?”

“Of course. Selena Gomez is one of the lead characters.” Darcy gasps pressing play immediately. She moves closer to you cuddling into your side.

Your heart has never felt this full before. Sure you’ve had cuddles from some of your kids, but you’ve never done this before. Carter rests his head on your chest sucking his thumb. You close your eyes just soaking in the moment.

Nothing could make this any better.

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momo-de-avis · 4 years

Note

Gimme your best tips for describing people in English. Facial features especially.

oh my FRIEND you hit me where I’m the weakest, but I will do my best.

I am not as good as I wish I was when describing faces, so mostly I try to be... inconspicuous but enough that you get a general gist of it (admittedly, I like leaving room for the reader to give them their features and imagine the character themselves).

GENERALLY of course I go for the stand-out traits first: hair and eyes.

Only say eye colour if it’s relevant, say: the person is struck by their colour, it’s unique, they are under a favourable light (like, sun shining directly on their face), they’re standing very close. I say this as a person who NEVER---EVER---notices other people’s eye colour, but apparently, I am surrounded by people who ONLY notice the eye colour (seriously, people will go “hey do you know Zé?”, “who’s Zé?”, “the one with the blue eyes”, “what do you mean!!!!!”).

But you can describe eyes by FEELING. They’re darkened (by shadows, by the overall expression). They’re cold. They’re distant, like they’re not really there, they’re fixated on a distance. This is a good mechanic to translate a POV. If it’s limited, remember this is how your character is PERCEIVING, not necessarily what’s there.

And then there’s shape: they’re almond-shaped, they’re round, they’re slanted (or squinted if they’re doing that). BE CAREFUL using these expressions when referring to a specific race, a topic which I will abstain myself from commenting because I seriously feel I am not knowledgable on it (I once read somewhere that using “almond-shaped” describe the eyes of say a japanese or chinese person is in terrible taste, but in portuguese, 99% of writers use the expression “almond-shaped” (amendoados) so it REALLY caught me off guard. But then again, this goes for everything, I suppose? Especially if the descriptor involves food. Just... stay away from food as a general rule). They also could be wide open, bulging out in horror or shock, squinted as I said before.

And beyond shape: elusive, focused, bright, eager (remember that these are things you don’t notice through the eyes alone, you get it by getting a general picture). Liquid, humid, on the verge of tears. Shimmering if they’re biting the tears away.

And also there’s something a lot of writers forget: EYELASHES. They’re thick, they flutter, they bash together if they blink hard, repeatedly. They’re holding back tears. They’re smashed against their glasses (I love this one).

Eyebrows are like 70% of the focus of your expression here too. They raise in shock or surprise. You raise only one in suspicion or a somewhat disguised surprise. You knit them together for a frown. One thing I like to do is describe the forehead itself for doubt: creased by grooves, furrowed in suspicion, etc. Don’t forget their shape. I’ve seen razor-sharp, bushy, thick, expressive, slender, thin, etc.

Lips I usually don’t spend much time on. Fleshy or thin, and then sprinkle some colour. Cherry-pink, red, tawny, etc. (I’ve been told ‘tawny’ is fancy which what the fuck?). But the areas around the lips are interesting because when I want a character to see the other is cute (not beautiful, cute---say, a father seeing how cute his daughter is) they notice dimples in the corners (I wrote in a short story how a character described the dimples in the corner of her mouth as “the flag of turkey” lmao).

There’s also dry, chapped, and if they’re dying, they’ll have more a blue-purple-pale hue to them.

I wish I had good advice for the nose, I really do. In portuguese, when I wan to mention a nose, for some reason, I always go to “adunco”, which in english would be perhaps hooked, I think that’s the closest. The farthest I’ve gone, was something like: a straight nose but flattened at the tip, slightly perked. Which is weird. DO REMEMBER nostrils when someone’s enraged, cause they FLARE. And if you don’t want to describe them, remember: air comes in and out out of them!! So if they’re pissed, their breath is RAGING through. GUSTS of wind coming in through your smell-tubes (please don’t call your nostrils smell-tubes).

One challenge that I enjoyed being faced with was trying to describe the same character through the eyes of someone who knows them well but after years, meaning: how do I tell “wow, you’re older”. Evoke what’s already there, but think about what makes us look older. Wrinkles, naturally. But not just.

I have a character who sort of appears more solemn after years. There’s this tranquillity to her. A certain austerity that reflects in the eyes. There’s a few wrinkles, but mostly, I think the expression I was something like, the same features that made her stand out in youth, but softened by age. Another character, however, appears more child-like as he grows older.

It’s easier with men cause I just say “and now he has a beard!” and that AT LEAST it’s indicative of the fact that puberty’s bygone lmao.

SPEAKING OF BEARDS I will admit I have a very limited vocabulary, but it’s fun to play with it according to age. Like, when it’s a young kid still growing their beard, it’s fun to make fun of it (it’s cool, you can bully your characters). Thick, heavy beard. A mesh of hairs cosying the neck (I read something like this in a setting where men wore beards because it protected them in the winter). They’re a certain colour, but if they’re older, there’ll be threads of silver. Swatches of grey. Hints of decolouration lmao he might wear a stubble, or he might trim it enough to leave it fashionable. He could be freshly shaven, with cuts still, or not cuts at all, the skin sleek and velvety, or as this old hairdresser I once knew used to say, “he wants to feel his face like he feels his own ass”.

My real issue is general features. Heads usually have shapes we can identify, like long face, heart-shaped, squared, rectangular, oval. I mention the cheeks occasionally but it usually means someone’s looking a bit more intimately.

Teeth for state of mind, and I go here when I want to be extreme. Containing rage? Grit your teeth. Grind them together. Clench your jaw if you’re tense. Grinning? Teeth flashing white. Or yellow. Or stained with specks of brown and black from chewing tobacco, maybe smoking opium. Perhaps a chipped tooth or two. If the character is a piece of shit and they’re smiling really wide when they SHOULDN’T? White teeth. (I use a lot of white for evil for some reason).

Authority, self-confidence, defiance? Raise your chin high. Jut your chin forward. Look from above. Imponent. Fill your chest with air.

Then there’s... body. I am... not really good with body. So I do what I know best: focus on body language.

I usually really want to show what’s happening physically with the character, say: do you want them to be sort of evasive? Arms crossed or folded at the chest. Looking away. Shoulders slouched if they’re more relaxed. Stiffened if they’re tense. Fingers tapping the arm, or a table, or a knee, or whatever’s at hand. A bit of a lip, or my favourite, a bite of the cheek.

Excited? They move a lot. Erratic, intense. Piercing gaze, eyes glowing. Like the person has an inner light, coming out of themselves, blinding everyone around if they’re a Leo lmao. They generally also open their posture: hands aside, for example. Leaning forward. What if they’re flirting? Hands forward on the table, tilt of the head (women tilt their heads A LOT when they’re flirting), or tossing their hairs, pulling them away from their face.

Tousling the hair for nervousness, irritability. Just generally ruffling them with a frantic hand. Jittering leg too. Rubbing their face, hiding behind their hands, sinking their head in their hands if they’re near despair (it’s an expression I use a lot).

There are all body types, and I’ll be very honest, when it comes to that, just go straight to the fact. Fat, slender, chubby, scrawny, brawny. I once described a guy as muscular and built like an IKEA cabinet (a joke only my PT peeps will get but it sounds SO FUNNY in english).

This is all I can say on the subject, I believe. DO send me your suggestions if you have them!

#I have a document with a list of ''words of interest'' but thats a cheat lmao #rhythmlessgay

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kinda-ooc-just-a-little · 5 years

Text

Heart of a lion

Chapter 2 Getting to Know You

Shinso x Reader

Rated M for Future Mature Themes (Not Explicit)

Tags: slow burn, mutual pining, secretive quirk

Summary: You never wanted to be a hero. You come from a long family of heroes, so why not just be a normal person? That’s what you hoped, until you re-connected with your old High School friend/crush.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 /

The first day of school always left a sour taste in every student’s mouth. Especially yours, as you were completely out of your normal elements. UA always seemed like such a prestigious school that was way above your social circle and here you were, taking classes there. Not to mention no one you knew attended UA, not that there were any notable friends you made anyway. You released a sigh and walked into the entrance of the towering building, not missing a green haired student almost tripped onto his face, only to be saved by a girl who made him float so he didn’t dive right into the pavement.

At least I’m not the only nervous one here. You thought as you searched for your class. General Department class 1-C. Your stomach churned outside of the classroom as you willed yourself to open the door. Immediately you were introduced to faces you did not recognize. You sneaked in the room and sat in the only empty desk that weren’t bombarded with students: in the back corner by the window. You sat your stuff down and looked out the window. You started to regret your choice to graduate into this school. Was UA really the best place to go?

As you mulled over your decisions, you didn’t even notice the student with indigo hair that sat directly in front of you.

“Looks like you weren’t kidding when you said you would join me.”

Surprised and caught off guard by his sultry voice, you looked ahead to see your former and current classmate and he was… smiling? Grinning? Either way, you were sure you felt your heart skipped a beat… or maybe that was your anxiety. “Y-yeah! I finally decided to test my luck. I guess they liked me enough to accept me.”

You heard him hum to himself. “Well, they would be idiots not to.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but the teacher entered the classroom before you could. Idiots not to accept you into the school? Or idiots to not like you?

Either way you were glad that you had at least one person to talk to. You can’t help but smile to yourself. It might be an interesting time at UA.

You wished you had a quirk that made you disappear because gym was the worst. Even though you were in general studies, it seemed the school took the students’ health seriously, even the students who were not heroes. The gym teacher decided to test everyone’s strength and stamina because god forbid you have an easy first day. He challenged everyone in the class to keep running and to not stop moving for one whole lap, or the whole class had to take an extra lap. You didn’t want to be the sorry sucker with the whole class pointing daggers at you, so you were about to collapse when you hit the halfway mark. Your shins were on fire at this point and you were almost ready to give up.

“Come on, I know you got more in you.” You heard that same sultry voice next to you again.

“I don’t know,” you strained to talk. “I think being on everyone’s shit list… is a better option than dying.”

Shinso let out a small laugh. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“What? Being on everyone’s shit list or dying?”

“Dying. I don’t think anyone’s ever died from running too much.”

“Well, you’re about to see it.”

You made idle chatter with him like this, forgetting the pain in your body until you saw the finish line. You both finished at the same time and you couldn’t stop yourself from doubling over with your hands on your knees and let out a groan of pain.

“Please god don’t make me do that again.” You cried out to no one in particular.

Shinso walked up to you with a sly grin. “It’s only the first day and you’ve already had more than you can handle?”

“More than you know.” You took a deep breath and released. “Really regret doing nothing but eating chips and cuddling cats all summer.”

Before Shinso could speak, the gym teacher walked up to you and placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Which is why we need warmups like this! So, you can get your body into tip-top shape for the year!”

This is what you call a warmup?! You screamed in your head; very sure the rest of the class thought the same.

“Come on students! Let’s do some cool down exercises in the gym!”

The entire class groaned and followed the teacher. You stayed behind to catch your breath, noticing Shinso had not left yet. “You don’t have to wait for me you know. I need a minute.”

“I’m not going to the gym.” He simply said and walked in the opposite direction.

You looked at him with confusion. Where is he going?

He stopped and turned to you. “You want to come with?” He asked in a monotone voice.

You weighed your options. Follow a student you barely knew, or, finish dying off with the rest of class in the gym, who are also students you barely knew. You decided that you did not want to die today. You straightened yourself out and followed Shinso to the furthest fence that lead into a forest. He climbed on top of it and offers a hand. You pout and climbed it yourself and threw your leg over the fence and jumped down.

“I can do at least this.” You smugly said to him.

“Really? I thought you said you were dying.” He said as he jumped down to join you.

You followed him through the trees of the forest. “Only temporarily. It was a temporary dying.”

He snickered and you couldn’t help but grin. He has the cutest smile and laugh.

You both weaved through the forest and you started to feel your heart drop the deeper you both traveled into the forest. You didn’t know if it was because you were skipping class, or you were following Shinso into the middle of no-where, but the eerie croaking of the forest unnerved you. Not to mention Shinso could easily make you do anything and have you forget…

No. You were not like those assholes who assumed he was a bad person. Still, you couldn’t help but be on guard. You tried to make light conversation. “Man, I hope this isn’t a part of some convoluted plan to kill me in the middle of no-where.”

“Not unless you like being killed by fluffy lint balls with claws.”

You gave him a quizzical look, but quickly understood when you suddenly heard little meows from a multitude of cats. In the middle of this forest someone built a little shelter that housed two adult cats and two little kittens. You heart clenched at the sight as Shinso walked toward them slowly.

“Hello, Jack and Jill. Kitten and Mitten.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two cans of cat food. He opened them and gently pushed it toward the family.

“Jack and Jill? Kitten and Mitten?” You questioned from a distance. You didn’t know how the parent cats would respond to you, so you kept your distance.

“I’m not that original, I know.” He responded as he scratched one of the cat’s ear.

“I think it’s cute.” You responded as you walked forward slowly to not to disturb their feeding time. “How long have they been here?”

“Since spring. I found them when I came here to put in my application. It was raining almost every day, so I managed to get my hands on this little house. Been feeding them since then.” They finished eating and immediately started to rub on Shinso leg.

“I can see they’re already used to you.” You said.

“Yeah, I come and feed them a lot, even though they can hunt for small animals.” He looked toward you. “You want to pet them?”

You give him an unsure look.

“Sorry, I just assumed you liked cats when you said you cuddled one all summer.”

He wasn’t wrong but you and felines had a very odd relationship. You looked toward the two adult cats, who were obviously on guard. You thought you might as well try.

You kneeled on your legs and leaned down gently, lowering your eyes.

Shinso observed your actions curiously.

You slowly reach out your hand toward both the adult cats and let them both sniff you a little bit to let them get familiar with your scent. Soon enough, both adults started to rub against your hand to let you pet them.

“Amazing.” Shinso said. “It took giving them shelter and food for them to even think of giving me a chance.”

“Well, me and cats have a pretty peculiar relationship. They either love me or hate me.” You said as the mom cat sat on your lap. “Although, they’re probably only accepting me because they trust you.”

“I hope so. I really like them.”

If only your middle school class could have seen him now. How could someone who so desperately wanted the approval of a bunch of kittens be a villain? You laughed a bit.

“Something funny?” He questioned.

“Nothing, just…” you wondered if it would be appropriate to bring up. “I never understood why our class automatically labeled you as a villain when I’m pretty sure you never did anything wrong.”

He observed the little kittens as they wrestled each other. “It comes with the quirk. People can’t help it, especially when its mind control. Villains give it a bad reputation.”

You felt sorry for him. He’s had to deal with this ridicule most of his life, no doubt being misunderstood simply because of his quirk. If it were irritating when they mocked him in class, you could only imagine what it must have been like his whole life.

“They just fear what they don’t know.” You said as you gently pat the cat in your lap. “And they’re idiots because they don’t know you.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“I would like to.” You didn’t know what possessed you to say something so bold. Maybe because it was a tender moment or because you wanted to tell him this for a while.

Shinso looked away with a slight blush on his face. “Not sure why you would want to but… thank you.”

You both grew silent the next few minutes. You couldn’t tell if it was an awkward or normal moment, but you enjoyed his presence none-the-less. You hoped he felt that way too.

After a few more minutes you both agreed to head back to the classroom. You said your goodbyes to the cat family and started to head back, noticing that Shinso kept glancing at you.

“Like what you see?” You smirked at him.

Shinso turned his head away looking embarrassed. “Nothing, it’s just… I don’t understand why you would want to get to know me. You’ve heard what they say.”

“I’m not one to judge a book by it’s cover.” You answered. “I would like to know someone before I can judge them.”

He said nothing else as you both got back, just in time to see that the class just ended, and students filing into the locker rooms.

“I’ll see you back in class.” You waved to him goodbye.

“Yeah.” He responded as he entered the boy’s locker room.

You walked inside and started to change into your normal school cloths. You wished this wasn’t the first or last time you got to hang out with Shinso, and you hoped he thought the same.

#shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #boku no hero academia #oocwrites #my hero academia #xreader #bnha x reader

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theteaisaddictive · 5 years

Note

okay but you can't just tease us with a wedding meme mentioning ejts in the tags. spill :D

ask and ye shall receive my dear :D

1) Who proposes? 2) How do they propose? 3) Reaction of the one being proposed to

in the middle of the chaos post-transformation, belle probably whispers to eve that she never wants to leave her side again.

‘i know, i know,’ eve whispers. ‘i remember. i’ll never leave you again.’

‘no, i-’ belle says. ‘i mean, i want to stay with you forever’, and she drops to one knee right there on the newly-constructed balcony, still strewn with rose petals and the rosy-fingered dawn. she holds out her left hand palm-up. ‘do you?’

eve joins her kneeling on the ground, her legs still shaking from the transformation. she takes her hand, her eyes almost shockingly large now that they’re in a human face. ‘yes. yes. yes, belle, dearest, of course.’ she leans over and they kiss.

they kiss for quite a while.

4) How they tell the others

chip, of course, asks as soon as the general excitement levels have gone down, ‘are they gonna get married?’

the senior staff all glance at each other wondering who’s going to have to finally teach this emblem of hope for the future about homophobia, but before the silence can get more than half a step beyond natural, eve chimes in with an ‘of course we are, chip. in fact, belle asked me not twenty minutes ago and i said yes.’

while mrs potts is relieved that eve is human again and that she’s no longer cold and cruel-hearted, she notices a certain fire in eve’s eyes that came straight from her father – the stubbornness which means she’s going to get her own way come hell or high water. it used to apply to hunting, and petty matters of daily life. mrs potts is proud to see it used to marry belle.

(marie doesn’t find out that they’re married for … a while. how long an interval it’s going to be? haven’t decided yet.)

5) Who’d they choose as ring bearer

chip, of course! who else?

6) Who’s the one that spends the most time worrying about preps for the wedding?

surprisingly, there isn’t actually a lot of time to prep for the wedding. neither of them have much of a taste for fancy celebrations and would prefer a simple ceremony, so that’s what they choose. (but yes, eve does manage to get her bee in a bonnet regardless)

7) When they go looking for their outfits

it’s less ‘looking for outfits’ and more ‘repurposing old ones’. belle would be more than happy to just wear her best blue dress, but even though eve had a transformative experience shaped by queer love, she’s adamant that belle has a new, different dress she’s never worn before for the ceremony (so belle is in basically the celebration dress from the remake, and eve is in essentially ella’s wedding dress from the 2015 film but minus the train. yes i am trash. no i refuse to apologise.)

IMAGINE THESE BLUSHING BRIDES. ALSO YOU WILL HAVE TO IMAGINE THEM AGAIN FOR ROSES AND LAVENDER BUT PRETEND FOR A MOMENT THAT LILY JAMES IS PORTRAYING A GENDER-SWAPPED BEAST HERE AND NOT CINDERELLA

8) Fusses over the other before the wedding day

they’re both very concerned about each other and it’s very sweet. they both stay up the night before the wedding in the library, keeping close together as midnight approaches. belle rubs her fingers soothingly against eve’s head and intermittently finger-combs her hair, and eve absent-mindedly runs her hand in circles over belle’s back as they talk quietly about tomorrow.

9) Reactions to their wedding attire

ok so how i picture it is that since neither of them have people to give them away (léon and cogsworth offered their services, but both women declined), they mirror the ballroom scene so their first glimpses of each other are as they go down the stairs to the landing before descending to the ballroom proper. both of them almost stop in their tracks because of how BEAUTIFUL and RADIANT and HAPPY the other looks to be marrying HER. eve cries two tiny tears before she even reaches the landing.

10) Who whispers the other “you look great”

belle to eve. they’re holding hands as they walk towards the servants, lefou and stanley, wait why are those two there what plot points will they be relevant to and léon

11) How are they feeling during vows

nervous as all fuck. jittery. excited. overjoyed. eve actually does start to cry during her vows. belle doesn’t, but she gets very, very close.

12) What do their rings look like?

simple, thin gold bands. they wear them on their right hands.

13) The kiss

the vows are exchanged. the rings placed. cogsworth looks at eve, whom he’s known and loved for the best part of a decade. ‘and now, by the power invested in me by the princess of this realm, i declared you to be married. you may now kiss the bride.’

belle smiles so wide that it hurts her cheeks, and she and eve take a step forwards at the same time. eve sweeps her into the kiss, one hand resting on her waist while the other cups belle’s neck. belle rests her own hand on the plane of eve’s back, allowing her other hand to brush eve’s shoulder as she kisses her wife. and for a moment in that kiss, it’s like their first up on the balcony – uncertain and desperately tender. eve breaks to take a breath, and belle pulls her back in for another kiss, their lips moving gently as the gathered congregation cheers. because they kissed. because they’re married. because eve is her wife.

14) What do they whisper to each other after vows?

nothing. they just look at each other. they’ve already said everything.

15) When cutting their cake, and afterwards

the wedding breakfast is basically a garden party in the grounds with the staff and aforementioned guests. there is enough food and cake and drinks for everyone, and as the afternoon fades into the evening the mood goes from bright and joyous to quietly happy, but in that way where the amount of emotion present is the same it’s just expressed differently if that makes any kind of sense. both brides make speeches, and both begin their speech with ‘on behalf of my wife and i …’ (they had to make lumiere flip a coin bc they both wanted to go first but didn’t want to take the chance away from the other and it was halfway to becoming one of those stupid fights that in a sitcom would be the episode one cliffhanger of the wedding two-parter, but luckily lumiere was in possession of the throuple’s two brain cells that morning so he managed to de-escalate the situation.) belle went first, but the line got the obligatory cheer from the guests both times.

16) The two dancing together

chapeau (or a Chapeau-Adjacent Character bc atm i can’t remember if i wrote him in or not) starts playing the fiddle, and the wives take their place on the ballroom floor (the reception has moved back inside by now). think home (reprise), the high note then gently glissandos down to the beginning of beauty and the beast. (can you glissando on a violin? idk. maybe it’s just a piano thing but you know what i’m trying to get across here)

they dance the steps that they first performed while eve was still a bird, and then eventually devolve into a gentle waltz.

after the first dance, it’s country dances for all!! poor chapeau has his work cut out for him, but léon can play and stanley brought his accordion so by the end of the night everybody who has to play gets to dance to at least three songs.

17) Who takes a picture of the other

not applicable! HOWEVER plumette takes quick sketches throughout the day, and in later years belle and eve have official portraits taken in their wedding dresses on repeat wears, so between one and the other they have plenty of memories.

18) Who lifts the other up (bridal style)

eve sweeps belle off her feet (again) (it’s something of a recurring motif for them)

19) The reaction of the person being carried

belle laughs, shrieking a little because she was caught off-guard. she presses small kisses to eve’s cheek and neck until her arms give out and she has to put belle down again.

20) Wedding night

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

no, no, no, i’ll be genuine (and mildly explicit). they leave (eventually). chip fell asleep about an hour ago. the night is (fairly) young. they go up to the west wing together. eve can’t stop grinning. she has a wife.

once safely in the west wing, they help each other out of the fine materials of their dresses and remove their stays, but otherwise stay pretty much fully dressed. they pile up on eve’s bed, in a similar position to how they were in the library the night before; belle is lying directly on the pillows, while eve is resting with her head on belle’s shoulder and their legs intertwined. before long, of course, they start kissing. and they clutch at each other, pressing so close they can feel their heartbeats through the layers of muscle and bone and fabric. and eve takes a very long time to roll belle’s stockings down her legs, kissing each inch as it appears. and then she kisses several other areas of her wife’s body (and belle can barely look at her as she does it, but the sight of that blonde head between her legs causes her to dig her fingers into eve’s hair, and that was a rather interesting discovery for both of them). and then belle, after a moment to catch her breath, pushes eve over to her back and pulls off her chemise. and she is just as slow as eve was, tracing her hands over eve’s body, and when she does finally push eve’s chemise away to press her lips to naked skin, the look in eve’s eyes is one she never forgets.

and then, after a long while, eve says, ‘we’re married. you’re my wife.’

‘and you’re my wife,’ belle says just as quietly. she presses a kiss to the top of eve’s forehead.

‘i never thought this would happen,’ she says. ‘not even before the curse. i thought i would be like my mother, and that the most i could hope for was either to have a husband who would be kinder or to live as an old maid.’

belle wraps her arm around eve’s shoulders a little tighter, as if she wants to protect the girl of eighteen whom she never even met. knowing belle, eve thinks, that’s probably the case.

‘i’m so glad i met you, eve,’ she says. ‘i never thought this kind of love could be possible. i’m beyond overjoyed that it’s with you.’

she cards her fingers through eve’s hair, the glint of her ring catching in the moonlight. a few minutes later, eve rearranges their positions, so that they’re both covered by the warm blankets and she’s pressed into belle’s back, her arms draped around her. their hands find each other under the covers, and they fall asleep peacefully on their first day of married life.

#asks #ever just the same #stagepresenceofapotato #DID THIS MAKE ME EMOTIONAL ABOUT WEDDINGS??? MAYBE SO!! MAYBE SO!#how many times did i write some variation of YOU'RE MY WIFE??? let me count the ways #GOD THE EMOTION I CANNOT #it's the tenderness

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infiniteshawn · 6 years

Text

Heat | Werewolf!Shawn AU

warning: 2.8k of filthy, filthy smut

You groaned at the sight of your blank phone screen, foot tapping in anticipation of when you’d hear from Shawn next.

It only took a few days into your relationship to discover he was a werewolf. Though he didn’t flaunt it like the others you’d encountered, he had a lovely habit of purring whenever you came into physical contact with him and it was pretty obvious right away. It was sweet and reassuring, and was only one of the wolfly characteristics that left you weak in the knees for him.

New to the whole wolf thing, you also discovered that he’d go into the occasional heat. He explained that he’d lock himself away in his house and avoid others at all costs because he wasn’t able to "control himself.” Around you, in particular. Though it left him passionate and lustful, he deemed it dangerous due to how rough he could get, so he swore to stay away from you until his heat ended.

It was day six, and you were dying to know when this would be over.

He wasn’t holding back via text message, though. Shawn had been sending constant updates on how he was feeling or what he was doing, mainly because he was bored, but a part of you believed it was to sexually torture you. Constant vivid descriptions of what he wanted to do to you or what he wanted you to do to him would come rolling in, leaving you hot and bothered and totally frustrated. He was out of reach, and he’d warned you beforehand not to entertain his behaviour because he was too weak and likely to give in. It was far too dangerous.

The sun wished you a good night as it dipped beneath the horizon, leaving you alone in the darkness of your living room. You set your feet up on the coffee table, stretching your limbs with a groan of exhaustion. The cold days seemed to be stretching on forever, leaving you tumbling along in the wake of exams and eating properly and getting enough sleep. It didn’t help that Shawn wasn’t around to keep you company.

You tilted your heavy head back against the couch, tasting the strawberry-flavoured chapstick coating your lips as you gave them a quick lick. A deep exhale left your chest as your eyes fluttered shut, breath slowing as you took a moment to relax in the blackness of your empty home. You had barely drifted off before your phone was blaring its default ringtone, snapping you out of your trance and bringing you back to reality.

The bright screen blinded you momentarily, causing you to hesitate before observing your boyfriend’s face staring back at you. Shawn hadn’t called in the entire six days he’d been away, and you worried that the sound of your voice might set him off. Your head told you not to take the call, but your heart was more powerful. Always.

“Shawn?” you answered, panicking a little at the sound of heavy breathing on the other end of the line. “Shawn, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he spoke, a smirk evident in his tone. This couldn’t be good.

“Uh, hey,” you spoke flatly, crossing your legs and leaning forward on the couch cushion. “What’s up?”

“Mm, nothin’,” he lied. “Just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

“Oh,” you smiled, heart warming at his blunt softness. Such a puppy. “I miss you.”

“Miss you more,” he exhaled, seemingly out of breath.

“Hun, are you tired? W-what have you been up to?” you asked quizzically, leaning sideways to turn a lamp on.

“Oh, me? Nothing, babe. I’m pacing,” he said flatly, leaving an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“How’ve you been, love? Haven’t heard from you in a bit,” you bit your nail, nerves pulsing with anxiety as you tried to keep things tame.

“Been missin’ you,” he stated with a little growl. It was a sound all too familiar to you, a sound he only made when he was desperate and needy.

“Shawn, you shouldn’t have called me,” you responded, picking at your chipped nail polish as you awaited his response.

“Don’t hang up,” he spat as goosebumps spread across your arms. “M’not done.”

The line was silent for a few seconds, the dead air only being filled by Shawn’s heavy breathing and the static of the poor connection.

You sucked in a breath, finally speaking, “I’m still here.”

“Good, babe. I just, I needed to hear you. Been away from you so long, and you know how it is,” he breathed, “how I need you. It’s been torturous, not being able to--feel you.”

You gulped, unsure of where he was going with this but resisting all the signs telling you to stop.

“Yeah? Feeling’s mutual, I can assure you.” you cooed, leaning back against the cushions.

“Fuck, yes,” he answered, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“What about me, baby?” you giggled, heat already beginning to rush between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

“Your lips,” he breathed, “and the way they work against mine. You continue to nip and suck at my mouth even though I’m the wolf here, and god, does it ever get me going.”

You let out a laugh, tongue darting out of your pout to taste your chapstick once again.

“And the way they fit so perfectly around my cock, Jesus, babe,” he said lowly, “Mouth was fuckin’ made for me.”

A blush was rising in your cheeks as you brought a hand to your lips, running your fingers over the mouth he spoke so highly of.

“What else?” you encouraged.

“Miss kissin’ your neck, and sucking on the insides of your thighs. Just you wait, babe,” he growled, “Just you fuckin’ wait until I can have my hands on you. Your hands, they’re the devil. My god, I want them all over me, all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe. Want your fingers wrapped around my cock while you pump it, your slick pussy sliding back and forth on my thigh. Want you gripping and scratching at my back while I pound your pretty little cunt. Wanna make you scream for me.”

Your jaw had dropped at this point, core throbbing at the thought of having this again with Shawn.

“Bet you’re hard for me, thinking about those things,” you spoke lowly, knowing the risk you posed but blatantly not caring.

He gulped, clearly caught off guard by your dominance and cooperation, having expected you to have hung up the phone minutes prior.

“So hard for you, baby,” he grinned, fighting the urge to palm his bulge in his tight jeans. “Always hard for you.”

“I’m soaked, Shawn,” you breathed, a sly grin gracing your lips as you imagined his reaction.

“Oh m-, fuck,” he grunted, and you imagined him running a hand through his mess of fluffy curls in sexual frustration. He did this a lot, usually when you were out in public and he needed you, needed to feel your snug walls wrapped around his thick cock.

“What is it?” you teased, softly massaging your heated core through the fabric of your sweatpants.

“Need to fuck you,” he panted, a rattling sound audible through the fuzz.

“What’s that noise?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, my keys,” he answered, stumbling on his words a little.

“Shawn? Are you home?�� you worried.

“Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly.

“Why are you holding your keys in the house, then?” you questioned.

“Was, uh, putting them on the hook, they were on the kitchen table,” he panted, trying not to sound too suspicious, but you were onto him.

“Okay,” you agreed.

“Hm,” he cleared his throat.

“Nice night out, eh?” you asked, testing the waters.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. Chilly, but crisp.”

“Caught you! Shawn, where are you? Why did you leave the house?” you panicked, now on your feet as you began to pace around your coffee table.

“Nowhere, babe, don’t worry about it,” he reassured, but you weren’t having it.

“No, Shawn, you told me you’d have to stay in and that you were dangerous and I’ve been sitting here without you, what’s going on?” you asked a little frantically, wondering if he was messing around or if someone was going to get hurt.

“Babe, babe, calm down,” he spoke, out of breath. “Open your front door.”

Chills ran up your spine as you wondered what would happen next. Would he be violent? Was he angry? Was he done? You quickly shuffled to your front door, glancing at him through the side window to notice his sweaty state. He ran here, and that’s why he’d been panting.

You took a breath and swung the door open, expecting to give him a hug but being taken aback when he shoved his way through the door and had you pinned against the back of it.

“Hi,” he breathed, his lips a mere inch from yours.

“H-hi,” you responded shakily. His face fell.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared,” he whispered, leaning forward to plant a quick peck on your lips. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never. My heat’s over.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, realizing he was safe to be around and you could once again have your way with him. Your small hands reached for his hips, pulling his torso flush against yours. His pants were already tight at the crotch.

“Mhm,” he hummed, dipping his head down to assault your neck with wet kisses.

You let out a deep groan, sneaking your fingers under the hem of his shirt and raking your nails up his soft sides.

“Shawn, please,” you whimpered as he parted from your chest and allowed the long-sleeved shirt to slip over his shoulders and be discarded on the hardwood floor.

“Mm, need, you,” he spoke between kisses to your lips, reaching for your ass as you wrapped your legs around his middle and prepared for him to climb the steps. Your arms were wrapped around his thick neck as he ascended the stairs without breaking the kiss. His chest rumbled with deep purrs, vibrating against yours as he entered your bedroom and plopped you down on the mattress.

“Clothes off,” he grunted, unbuckling his jeans and kicking them away while he tried his best to peel your sweats from your thighs. You wiggled out of your clothing, discarding all undergarments and laying beneath him in your naked glory.

“Baby, my god,” he breathed, wrapping a hand around his erect cock as he tried to contain his composure.

You giggled, “What is it?”

“Fuck, need you,” he growled, “Need to fuck you.”

Suddenly, he brought a massive hand down on your thigh, a loud smack echoing in your ears.

“On your knees,” he snapped, earning a squeal of excitement from you as you flipped over and knelt on the mattress, supporting yourself with your elbows.

“My favourite view,” he chuckled, kneading your ass cheeks with his strong hands. You could feel his erection brushing against your skin, so you pushed back on your knees a bit in hopes of getting access to more of him.

“That what you want, princess?” he teased, tapping your ass with the head of his cock. “Yeah? Beg for it.”

You moaned at the thought, tilting your head to look back at him. He was standing at the edge of the bed, leaning over you slightly. His hard cock was in his massive hand and he was slick with sweat, heaving chest and neck pink with flush.

“I fuckin’ said beg,” he said firmly, bringing a hand down on one of your ass cheeks, the sting causing you to whimper.

“P-please, please Shawn,” you repeated.

“Please what?“

“Please, just fuck me!” you exclaimed, your wetness pooling in your core and threatening to drip down your thighs.

“S’what I thought,” he growled, pulling your hips toward him as he teased your slick folds with his rosy tip. You moaned at the contact, aching to feel him fill you out as he slid the head of his cock along your slit. Without warning, he brought his hand down on your ass once again and pushed into you, slipping between your snug walls and filling you out.

“Fuck!” you breathed, trying to keep from squirming as you adjusted to his size.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” he muttered, soothing the hot skin of your ass with his calloused hand.

You groaned again as he pushed into you completely, the pain quickly subsiding and fading into pleasure. “More, Shawn.”

He got the message and began thrusting into you roughly, balls slapping against the back of your thigh with each soft growl he let out. You could feel a bead of sweat drip onto your back as he rolled his hips toward your ass and his forearm wrapped around your middle, pulling you flush against his front.

You were a moaning mess, whimpering and groaning for more and to go harder. He was growling in your ear, nipping at your shoulders roughly to keep from exploding right there.

“You like that, sweetheart? You like takin’ my whole cock?” he grunted in your ear, coursing a wave of pleasure through your veins as your stomach twirled in response to his words.

You tried to reply but were unsuccessful, only able to release a string of moans and whimpers. He chuckled in your ear, grabbing a handful of your ass before smacking it, hard.

“Shawn, fuck, missed you,” was all you could seem to get out, reveling in the feeling of his clammy skin slapping against yours.

“Fuck, babe, ah,” he grunted, sinking his cock between your slick folds as deep growls rumbled from his chest. He soon backed up a bit, only fucking you with his tip and causing you to squirm.

It was teasing yet fulfilling, leaving you hungry for more yet allowing you to enjoy the firmness of his slick tip dipping into your soaked core. It was like an itch that was finally being scratched, something only Shawn could do.

“Not gonna, not gonna fuckin’ last,” he panted, hips ramming against your ass cheeks as he growled violently behind you. You were at a loss for words, ultimately aroused by his wolfly tendencies and the way he lost himself in fucking you. It was a skin-slapping mess as he fucked you rapidly and ruthlessly, and you were sure you’d be sore and potentially unable to walk the following morning.

“Fuck, Shawn, more,” you panted, pushing back against his length as he moved his hands from your middle to your aching pussy.

His fingers danced over your clit rapidly as he rammed his cock into you, overwhelming your senses as your knees gave out and your body began to fall. His other hand moved to your middle, pulling your hips up to meet his as he fucked you senseless.

“Shawn, fuck, close,” you whimpered as he flicked your clit in small, concentrated circles. His grunts and growls shot adrenaline through your veins as you were positive he was on the edge, too, and you wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet sounds of him coming undone.

“Come for me, Shawn,” you mewled, reaching back to thread your fingers through his curls.

“Come with me,” he panted, flicking your clit a few more times before you unraveled beneath him. You cried out in pleasure, pussy clenching around his hardened length as he pumped hot spurts of liquid from his throbbing cock. A low growl accompanied his rough thrusts as you collapsed onto your stomach, allowing his cock to slip out of you as he came down from his high.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, falling beside you and wrapping a heavy leg around yours, pulling you against his chest. “Missed that.”

“Shawn,” you mumbled, collecting yourself and trying to ignore the aching throb between your thighs. “That was unreal. It’s never been like that.”

He chuckled in response, pulling you tighter. “I’m sorry, it’s because of the last few days. I’m kind of… an actual animal. Just gotta remember to be gentle with my human.”

You smiled as your heart swelled at his words. “Your human.”

You nuzzled his chest with your nose, feeling the soft hairs against your face as something else began tickling you. A soft hum filled your ears as his chest began to vibrate, the familiar purr encompassing you.

“That’s it baby, purr for me, harder, yeah,” you mockingly fake-moaned, trying not to laugh.

“You’re a sicko,” he giggled with a shake of his head, but his purrs never faltered.

“Your sicko,” you stated, planting a wet kiss on his chest.

“My sicko,” he grinned, kissing the top of your head and shifting against you, his purring slowly fading to gentle snores.

@ffsshawn

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

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el-borealis · 5 years

Text

Whatever Floats Your Boat

Here is my Mileven Secret Santa for the lovely @midnightmillie!

The prompt: “Whatever Floats Your Boat. Really, it’s okay.” Something taking place in summer.

Stef, I hope you enjoy this summery, lake-side, word-nerdy fluff-fest!

Read on AO3

The chattering of Mike's friends filled the air around him. Their voices mixed with the sounds of lapping water and the birdsong that echoed from above. It all blended together in an oddly calming way, lulling Mike's mind into a state of rare and blissful quiet. Mike allowed his eyes to slip shut. He leaned his head back, took a deep breath, and stretched out his bare legs. The warm sunlight bathed his face with a hint of relief and a whisper of hope.

It was finally here. The first sensations of summer.

The tiny beach-like outcropping at the far end of Lover's Lake was the perfect place for such a day. Mrs. Byers said that the location had once been a popular spot for teens back in the 60s. Over the years, though, the makeshift trail had become overgrown, and thus it had been lost to the current generation of Hawkins High students. What remained was an almost impossible to detect inlet with a just-big-enough patch of sand, hidden from the rest of the lake by a crop of huge weeping willows. Lily pads and reeds crept from the water, creating an idyllic setting almost too perfect for the boring confines of Hawkins, Indiana.

The whole outing had been orchestrated by Mrs. Byers. Mike had heard her whispering persuasions to Hopper all throughout the spring. It had taken her weeks to convince Hopper to loosen the reins enough for just this single outing. And truly? It couldn't have come soon enough.

El had become increasingly lonely as the months had progressed. As the air had warmed and the world around them had awoken into spring, the rules of her seclusion had begun to break her spirit. It broke Mike's heart more than he cared to admit. For, there was only so much that a fourteen-year-old boy could do. Of course, he called her every single night. He smuggled her sweets and books and little hair accessories that he'd swiped from Nancy. He made sure to shoot Hopper snide looks whenever he drummed up the courage. More than anything, though, Mike worked as hard as he could to remind her (and himself) that this was all going to pass with time.

Mrs. Byers, though? She had been able to do more. And she had.

Mike made a mental note to thank her later, because on this day, surrounded by her friends and dappled in sunlight, El looked happy. Maybe that was why his brain was so blissfully quiet. Maybe it was the way the sun fell onto her, showcasing the golden flecks in her honey eyes in a way he had never seen before. Or, maybe it was the way her fingers lazily threaded through his in the sand, pumping his hand whenever she laughed at something that Max or Lucas said. Maybe it was her own words, spinning faster than Mike had ever heard her speak before, complete with a hint of confidence that was so incredibly hard earned.

Mike bit his teeth into his growing smile.

God, he was so proud of her.

He wished he could have recorded their very first talks, if only to play them back for her now. Sure, Mike still yammered for about 80% of their nightly talks, but increasingly, El had begun to add her own thoughts to the mix. Questions and answers, with opinions and jokes and ideas tossed in-between. El's unique sense of humor had materialized slowly throughout it all. She had a surprisingly dry and deadpan humor, one that always seemed to catch Mike off guard in the most delightful way. She had also shown herself to be highly opinionated, a trait only made more apparent as her vocabulary and confidence had grown. More than anything though, El was ceaselessly curious about the world. It was a trait they shared, and it made Mike's heart skip with hope for the potential of what could be.

Mike felt like he was unlocking El's personality piece by glorious piece, and he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. The tumbling feel that made him slip deeper and deeper into… a word even he didn't know how to say.

But that was a thought for another time...

Mike opened his eyes and shifted his gaze toward El once again. Her wavy hair was frizzy from the humidity. She had tied it half-up with a pink band that he had swiped for her from Nancy's room. She brushed some stray strands roughly from her face as she listened to Dustin drone on about a family of ducks on the other side of the shore.

After a moment, Dustin stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. He held his hand out to El.

"I'm going to go take a look at them," Dustin said. "Wanna come?"

"Um…" El stuttered, looking back at Mike for the first time in a few minutes. "I'll stay here. Is that… okay?"

Dustin shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat."

"Wh -"

Dustin waved his hand casually as he began to walk away, "Really, it's okay!"

Mike watched El curiously as El watched Dustin leave. That was when he saw it. The now familiar pattern. It played out like clockwork through her expressions. First, the sharp line appeared between her eyebrows. Then, she blinked three times in quick succession. Finally, her lips moved with no sound; the hints of fragmented words driving upon them.

Mike leaned close, "What is it?"

El twitched in surprise. She bit her lip and watched Dustin's retreating figure for another couple of seconds. She then turned slowly toward Mike. Her eyes were serious. Her voice, a low and worried whisper.

"M-mike," she stuttered. "I… I didn't bring a boat."

"...What?"

"He said I should… float my boat but…" her eyes snapped wide. "Was I supposed to bring a boat? I- I don't have a boat!"

"Oh!"

Mike worked fast to successfully bite back the laugh that shot to his lips so as to not embarrass her. "No, El. You don't need a boat. He um… That's just a phrase. Dustin said an idiom."

El stared at him blankly. "He's an idiot?"

Mike snorted, "Oh, he's definitely an idiot. But no. He said an idiom. It's like… a saying. They're phrases that don't really mean what the actual words mean. Like 'whatever floats your boat' means 'do whatever you want.'

El's eyes twinkled with instant annoyance. "He told me to float a boat. But... I'm not supposed to float a boat."

"Nope. You're just supposed to 'do what you want'."

"That is…" Her shoulders quickly dropped and she huffed. "That is stupid! He could say 'yes'. No more. Just 'yes'. But he told me to 'float a boat'?! That's… that's stupid! Words are so stupid, Mike."

It finally slipped. Mike could no longer contain his laughter. "You just said a whole lot of words about how dumb words are."

El's tense look softened in an instant. She ducked her head as the slightest pink rose into her cheeks. "I'm getting better, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Mike replied. He playfully bumped her shoulder. "Way better! That was almost a whole rant!"

El chuckled. Her dimples caught the sunlight as she looked at him with her perfect closed-lipped smile.

"Don't feel bad that you don't know these phrases, though," Mike added as he reached out for her hand. "You're right. They are stupid. It's just something you learn."

"It's just something you learn." El repeated back to him with a mocking tone.

"Hey!"

El giggled and shifted closer to Mike. "Tell me some other idiots."

"Idioms."

"Right. Idioms."

"Well…" Mike played with her fingers for a silent moment as he thought. "There's 'hold your horses'. That means to 'slow down' or 'don't get carried away'."

"Get carried away?"

Mike grimaced. "Shit, that's another idiom, isn't it? Yeah, I guess they both mean to slow down."

El rolled her eyes, "People could just say, 'slow down'."

"Oh! There's 'kick the bucket'! That means to die."

"WHAT?!" El yelped, her eyes blowing wide.

"Yeah... that one is really weird now that I think about it."

El burst into laughter. Free flowing, loud, unrestrained laughter. She latched onto his hand as she tried and failed to catch her breath. "That is… that is SO stupid!"

"It is…" Mike replied, giggles beginning to fill the space between his own words in a contagious manner. "That one is really stupid!"

El's laughter was joyous. Over the course of the next few seconds it took over her entire body. Her nose was scrunched and pink lips were turned upward. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut. Her fingers gripped tightly on his as she leaned over on herself and tried to catch her breath. She seemed so happy, so incredibly beautiful and perfectly at peace...

Mike's own laughter subsided. For, in that moment, an emotion so much stronger than amusement flooded through his body like an earthquake.

"Ooh, are you teaching El phrases?"

Mike jumped at the intruding voice. He looked up to find Max standing over them, a chip bag that had been by El's feet now in her hands.

El finally caught her breath and looked up toward their friend. "Idioms?" she said tentatively, trying the word on for size.

"I see…"

Max took a quick look at Mike. Her expression turned to one of devilish glee. Max bent down to eye-level and leaned in toward El. "I've got one for you, Ellie," Max said, her eyes flicking back on Mike before she said, "Head over heels."

"What's that?"

"I bet Wheeler would love to explain that one to you," she replied with a smirk. "Since he is. Completely. It's written all over his face right now. Have fun, Mike!"

Max patted Mike patronizingly on the knee and bounded instantly away.

"What does that mean?" El asked.

"Uh…"

"What?" El asked, her laughter gone, her gaze intent.

Mike made a mental note to kill Max later. For, El was staring at him with that look. That piercing gaze that Mike knew meant that El was expecting a full explanation. His tongue felt instantly dry.

"It's… It's when you really like someone," he stuttered, "Like... really like them? You like them so much you can't stop thinking about them and you could do like, flips? and stuff?"

"Flips?"

Mike's hand flamed so hot within El's grasp that he was sure it was going to burn her.

"Well, no. Not actually flips. But you feel like you could do flips when you look at them? Does that... does that make sense?"

"No."

Mike bit back a groan. "I guess… I'm uh… Okay..." he took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, "It's when your stomach feels all squirmy and your skin feels too tight and you can't stop thinking about them no matter how hard you try. Did I already say that part? Yeah, I did… I think… Uh…"

Mike's words died in an agonizing swallow.

El bit her lip. Yet, after a short moment, something seemed to dawn in her eyes. She broke into a timid smile.

"Like… like love?" she asked.

"Uh..."

"Yes?" She asked with firm nod.

"uh...yes." Mike confirmed, his breath short. "L-love. Yes."

El's hand then tightened on his. She smiled and ducked her eyes away.

"I'm…" El's stuttered. "I'm head over heels."

"You ARE?" Mike blurted so loudly the birds above them took flight.

El gazed up toward him slowly. The golden flecks in her eyes shined through her lashes. She nodded.

It was the last thing that Mike saw before he kissed her.

It was the only thing that Mike could think to do! Because words? Words were failing him here. Big time. The words were so real and so right and far too big for his young mouth to handle. How could he ever find the words to explain how he felt? How could he explain the fluttering in his chest or the sweat on his palms? How could he explain the constant barrage of goosebumps that ran up his neck when she touched his arm and said his name? Or the involuntary somersaults his stomach performed when she joked and laughed? How could he ever even begin to explain how his heart had expanded so much that it threatened to topple him over and throw him -

"- Head over heels," Mike gasped like a breath of fresh air against her lips. "Me too. Absolutely."

He braved to open his eyes then, shocked by his own outburst. Yet he needn't have been worried. For, the surge of warmth in El's eyes told him everything he needed to know.

El was quiet for a moment. She just looked at him. Her eyes wide, deep, floating. Her smile soft.

"Can I kiss you again?" Mike whispered.

She shrugged and said, with the lightest lilt, "Whatever floats your boat."

The laugh that cut through Mike's body was a sudden and glorious surprise.

"Did I use it right?" she asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up at his response.

"Yeah. Perfect!" Mike replied joyously, "Just… just.. per-"

His final word became lost between his smile, her giggle, and their firmly pressed lips.

Mike did not care about the fact that Hopper's eyes were definitely on them. He did not care that his friends were probably laughing under their breath just a few feet away. He did not care about the birdsong, or the lapping waves, or the summer sun. He only cared about the girl who's air he was sharing in that very moment.

Because Mike? Mike was truly… undeniably… irreversibly... head over heels for her.

#mileven #mileven fanfic #mileven fanfiction #mileven secret santa #stranger things

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nitewrighter · 6 years

Text

Breach Pt. III

Previous Parts: 1, 2

In Which Everyone Angsts and Moira Gets Roasted by a Semiconscious Teenager.

Aedan couldn’t sleep. He figured it was the empty stomach. His dinner was still in the fridge. He walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge door, saw the little tupperware of chicken and arugula, grabbed it, and then the intrusive thought slipped in.

We’ll have to find out everything we can before we dispose of her.

A wave of nausea hit him and he stuffed the tupperware back in the fridge and desperately filled a glass of water at the sink, drinking it down to try and settle his stomach. He remembered the sight of Widowmaker’s--No, Amélie’s wrists straining at the straps in the lab footage. He heard his mother’s voice.

We can keep her alive as long as we need.

Aedan coughed and spluttered at the image that slipped into his mind then. He set the glass down on the kitchen counter and braced his hands on the counter’s edge.

There are things you’re going to have to learn to live with.

Aedan shook his head and walked back to his room, running his fingers through his hair. He paused by the door of his mother’s bedroom and office, glancing in only briefly to see Moira perched in her chair with a large pair of headphones on, furrowing her brow at her monitor---no doubt reviewing all the lab footage from that day and trying to figure out a workaround. She didn’t even look up from her screen as he continued on to his own room. She’d be up well into the small hours of the morning, no doubt. Aedan entered his room and closed the door behind him. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He gave a glance over to Creggan’s hutch on the wall opposite his desk. The rabbit regarded him with a steady glassy red stare.

“...Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered to the rabbit before looking at the ceiling again. He remembered being in Rei’s grip, her short panicked breaths on the side of his face.

There’s no way this ends well. Your choice is how hard you’re willing to make it for yourself.

She’s a weapon we can’t afford to give them.

A weapon. She’s a weapon. She’s not a girl in a yellow dress smiling with the wind in her hair. She’s a monster who threatened to break your neck. She’s--

The train of thought was brought to a screeching halt by the memory of Rei sitting next to him on a bench in the Hassoun Gardens.

“My parents,” she was saying, “They’re always talking about how their families and the Omnic Crisis put them on a path that they were never sure they wanted. They always tell me they want me to be able to choose but it’s like… I know what they don’t want for me, but as far as what I want…”

He cut the memory short with dozens of nattering, bitter, desperate thoughs.

That was a lie. She lies. She’s a ninja. Ninjas lie. She’s a weapon. Weapons aren’t supposed to have choices. She’s a weapon and Talon needs to either find a way to use that weapon or destroy it.

But they’re not destroying it. They’re going to try and destroy her mind and if it doesn’t work they’re going to cut her open over and over and over again until--

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

You know the facility. You could--

No. No. Not an option. Not happening.

You have access to the guards’ shift tables. You have the biofeed. You can see them coming. You could find an opening. No one would even have to know.

Not listening. Not listening.

Getting to her wouldn’t be the problem--Getting her out would. Uniforms. She’d need a uniform. Labtech and assassin. Faces are covered, it’s perfect. If you accessed the logistics terminal and wrote in a distress call from the Reykjavik offices then they’d scramble the dropships and---

This is crazy. You’re crazy. This isn’t happening and you aren’t thinking about this.

Aedan squeezed his eyes shut. He needed noise. He needed to drown the thoughts out until all this mess was over.

“Play playlist three,” he spoke to the apartment’s AI.

“Resuming playlist three,” the AI responded.

“Resuming--?” Aedan started and his room’s speakers started playing.

“---We can be HEROES! Just for one da-aaay! We can be HE--”

“Skip,” Aedan said, his stomach in knots. That was probably the worst possible song that could come on at that moment. No, actually it wasn’t. The actual worst possible song came next. There was saxophone. And piano. And bass and high-hat and “Everybody’s raaaaised in blindness”

Skip, his mind was screaming at him all through the first verse, Skip, skip skip say skip. Just say it. But no, it was too late. He remembered a hover tram across the artificial lake of Oasis and Rei’s head on his shoulder, sharing headphones with him as the chorus kicked in.

“Whooooo can I be noooooow you found me?”

Aedan’s eyes opened.

“...You’re going to do something very stupid, aren’t you?” he said to himself.

It was a damp, still morning, the soft thrumming of the orca’s engine’s and the sound of Gibraltar’s waves melding together to make white noise. Jack was too old for this, far too old for this, he felt it in his bones, yet the SEP serum was still keeping him together after all this time. Most of me, at least, he thought, giving a glance down his left leg, an orange prosthetic from the knee down. Jack stood on the entry ramp to the Orca, and Genji stood in front of him on the watchpoint tarmac.

“You need to understand, we don’t usually do missions like this,” said Jack, “This isn’t Blackwatch. This isn’t the old Overwatch. We don’t have the resources to take the fight to Talon. We’re only doing this because they have one of our own.”

“Maybe we should have taken the fight to them,” muttered Genji, “Maybe if we had they wouldn’t---”

“Genji,” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, “You’re emotionally compromised. And that’s fair. We don’t know if we can trust you to stick to the plan once we get there, but you can trust us to get her home---”

“I’m going,” said Genji, “It’s an infiltration mission. You need me.”

“Your prosthetics are still locking up after that EMP attack,” said Jack.

“So you’ll need a medic too,” said Mercy stepping up alongside Genji, fully outfitted in her valkyrie suit.

Jack rubbed his forehead, “Doc...” he started.

“They have our daughter, Jack,” Mercy said, furrowing her brow, “But by all means, try to stop us and see how well that goes.”

A long pause passed between the three of them before Jack sighed.

“I need both you to give me your word that you’ll stick to the plan and stay calm once we get there,” said Jack.

“And if the plan starts falling apart?” said Mercy.

“Well that’s what you have me for,” said Sombra, stepping up alongside Jack, “Now if everyone’s done bickering, we should probably get going, right?” she said, heading up the ramp.

Genji, Mercy, and Jack headed up into the Orca after her, and Genji glanced over to see D.Va texting away next to her MEKA, Lúcio next to her. Lúcio gave them a slight wave.

“Thank you,” Genji said to Sombra as the orca doors closed behind them.

“Hey, you’d do the same for Marti, right?” said Sombra with a slight smile.

“In a heartbeat,” said Genji. Sombra smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. His shoulder jerked slightly at the touch, the prosthetics still not 100% sure how to react to impacts after the EMP, but it was getting better.

“...we’re bringing D.Va and Lúcio on a covert mission?” said Genji.

“We need someone who can move in fast, take a lot of damage, and move out fast, and someone who can disrupt the enemy line,” said Jack, “Also the Meka can carry Rei if she’s... incapacitated.”

Mercy was biting the inside of her lip as she looked around the Orca. They took their seats as the Orca took off and headed towards Reykjavik. With Genji and Mercy on the team, it was a strike team of eight rather than six. Tracer was in the cockpit of the Orca, looking grim---Losing Rei on the very anniversary of Mondatta’s death had taken its toll on her. Sombra was there for intel on the Talon facility as well as infiltration--with Genji at least she wouldn’t be scouting things out alone. Hanzo, resting his eyes in the corner, would provide cover fire. Jack was there for logistics and mission oversight. D.Va was for a swift distraction and transporting Rei out if necessary. Lúcio would have been the sole medic, but now Mercy was there as well. The general air of the orca was quiet and grim. Mercy glanced down at her hands and noticed they were shaking. Genji reached over and put a hand over hers.

“We’ll get her back,” he said softly, “I promise you, we’ll get her back.”

Mercy leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. There were a few minutes of silence around the Orca as Tracer took them up higher and higher.

“All right,” Sombra said at last, once they were high enough in the air to comfortably move about the cabin, “Let’s talk about the mess we’re about to run into, shall we?” she said, bringing up a large purple screen, “According to Hanzo’s dog chip--”

“It’s not a dog chip,” Hanzo said, opening his eyes from the corner.

“Anyway, according to the GPS on the chip, Rei is being held in the heart of a Talon Research and Development facility several miles outside Reykjavik, codenamed ‘Urdr.’”

“‘Urdr?’” repeated D.Va.

“Mythological reference. Talon’s suckers for it and the memo I hacked said no one was willing to try and pronounce ‘Urðarbrunnr.’ So it’s Urdr,” said Sombra, “They’re dramatic like that. Moving on. Lucky for us, this particular R&D facility is pure Talon. No shell corporation cover for it to draw attention to us. Talon’s worked very hard to make sure no one is aware this facility exists, so that gives us a lot of cover to carry out this op. However, that also means ridiculously high security. We’ll have to make this a night-op so there’s fewer personnel on site for us to deal with.”

“Does Rei have that kind of time?” asked Mercy.

Sombra brought up a separate purple screen, “According to their records for Widowmaker, it took them six days to break Amélie--”

“Break Amélie?!” Mercy repeated, “Wait--You think they’re going to use her to...”

“Talon making a new Widowmaker, or Widowmaker-equivalent has been a fear of ours for some time,” said Sombra, “It makes the most sense for why they would kidnap her but not kill her, since there’s not a lot Rei could actually tell them about Overwatch.”

Mercy’s hand went over her mouth. Genji put a hand around her shoulders, just as fearful.

“But it took them six days to break Amélie, and she was a civilian,” Sombra went on, “Rei has training. She has the dragon. She’s tough. If we’re going to do this, we have to do this right because we’ll have maybe one shot at this before they realize we can track Rei and take her somewhere we can’t trace her. We’ve got one shot, and we can’t screw it up, because we’re the only chance she has of getting out of there.”

---

Lights and dark shapes wheeled overhead as Rei drifted in and out of darkness and semiconsciousness. She was cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been warm. She didn’t know where she was or how long she had been here. Her mind reached back to London. An attack, Zenyatta on the ground, someone had to protect him. She fought. Zenyatta wasn’t the target. Stupid girl. And now she was...

One eye flickered open to more fluorescent lights and a masked figure in the corner of her vision, looking at a tablet. Not safe here. She had to move. Legs didn’t seem to be listening. She moved her wrist and it stopped short, aching. Straps. There were straps digging into her cheeks. A breathing mask. Not breathing. The air was sour and made her eyes heavy. Sleep. More drugs. Her eyes opened blearily. There were figures in gray and red. Masks covering their faces.

“She’s getting twitchy again,” a voice spoke.

“Up the dosage,” muttered another.

“Wait,” another voice spoke.

Rei managed to get her other eye open and she blinked a few times to see a narrow figure topped by short-cropped red hair, graying at the sides and widow’s peak standing over her. One blue eye was framed by a silvery mask.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said Moira, as Rei’s vision clarified, “I think we can talk to each other civilly, don’t you?”

Rei’s hand jerked up and stopped short. She glanced down to see it secured by leather and steel.

“Where’m I?” Rei said, eyes sluggishly flicking about.

“You’re in a dream, dear,” said Moira.

“No’m not...” Rei said quietly.

“Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” said Moira.

“You...” Rei’s eyes squinted at Moira, “...Moira.”

“A very perceptive little thing,” said Moira.

“You’re... a thief,” the words fell out of Rei. She was clinging to any thought her mind could bring up like a ship’s mast in a storm.

Moira blinked a few times. “Excuse me?” she said, with a slight smile.

“Stole from Mom... made... horrible things....” Rei started to drift off then seemed to snap back to semi-consciousness, “Mom--!” she said with a slight start, but Moira put a hand on her shoulder, less a calming action than emphasizing all the restraints securing her to the stretcher.

“She can’t help you here,” said Moira, brushing the back of her hand along the side of Rei’s face.

“Take me back,” Rei said softly, “I want... I want to go home.”

“You are home, dear. You’ll see that, soon enough. It’ll be easier when you stop fighting. You’ll see how much we have in common.”

“...all you can do is take from Mom...” said Rei, her head lolling around.

Moira suddenly stiffened. “...what did you say?” she said.

“You just... take what Mom makes and you make it horrible... that’s... all you can do. That’s what you’re going to do to me, right? That’s...” Rei’s hand balled into a fist even in its restraints, “That’s all you can do...”

Moira’s mouth drew to a thin line, one corner of it twitched momentarily before she spoke again. “Darling, you have no idea what I can do,” said Moira, before looking sharply over to the labtech,“Up the dosage.”

“She’s almost at the EEG threshhold for Mnemosyne,” one of the labtechs started, “If she’s conscious just a little longer---”

“Up. The. Dosage,” said Moira.

One of the labtechs hesitantly clicked something on Rei’s IV and Rei’s eyes rolled back in her head before shutting.

“You’re going to break,” Moira said, as a little bit of drool trailed out of the corner of Rei’s mouth, “You’re going to break or you’re going to die here. We have all the time in the world. I can’t say the same for you.”

---

If you’re going to do something stupid, may as well try to be smart about how you go about it, Aedan thought to himself as he tapped away at his lab terminal, He had complained to his mother plenty times before about how little he actually knew about Talon’s operations internationally, but as far as operations here, well... Aedan gave a glance to the stylized thumbnail sized blacklight tattoo on the underside of his wrist and brought it to a scanner next to the monitor. It didn’t hurt to be a VIP. Guard shifts. Agent shifts. Labtech shifts. Labtech profiles. Rei’s profile. A surprising amount was laid bare. Not Rei’s lab videos--he imagined for the same reason he didn’t have access to the lab videos for ‘Project Widow.’ But her personal effects brought with her when she was captured were, surprisingly, not incinerated yet. He figured as far as finding resources to get her out of here, there was a good place to start.

There were a surprising amount of areas of Urdr open to him as well, including the storage lockers and the armory. He easily accessed the effects confiscated from Rei, finding clothing--a yellow ochre dress, some olive green leggings, socks and canvas sneakers, and a bra. There was her hair ribbon as well, which he pocketed, figuring she’d want something to tie her hair back with.

“No comms, no weapons,” muttered Aedan, rifling through the dress’s pockets, “Thought you were supposed to be a ninja...”

A small metal sound hit the floor next to the locker and Aedan glanced down to see a small gold object gleaming against the gray of the floor. He stooped and picked it up, seeing it was a small pendant on a thin chain. He squinted at the pendant. It seemed terribly worn down, but he could make out a nearly rubbed-out circular shape atop some... wings? An older version of the Valkyrie suit’s symbol, perhaps? He shrugged and pocketed the necklace, leaving the rest of the civilian clothes back in the locker. Something this old and worn had to have some sentimental value.

From there, it was a simple matter of cross-referencing which Talon agents fit Rei’s measurements, which Talon labtechs fit his own measurements, and which were currently out on assignment in other parts of the world, visiting the armory, punching in their ID number, and boom: Some new-car-smelling Talon assassin and labtech armor was pushed out by the automated armorer. And that was another thing-- how much he was able to just... walk around the facility without anyone questioning him. No one questioned him walking through the facility with Talon assassin and labtech armor under each arm. No one questioned him tucking the Talon assassin and labtech armor into his locker. It had never occurred to him that being Moira’s son was a position of power. He had been so used to the murmurs of ‘That clone thing’ and ‘Moira’s special little project’ that it never occurred to him what it meant that he was Moira’s special little project.

So much loyalty was assumed by virtue of the memories Moira implanted in him. In a way, it was... depressing, stressful even. In a sense, he knew he was an extension of his mother. He knew that she had given him her qualities to question and challenge everything. They had made a scientist, not a soldier, but so assured was Moira in her own way of thinking that the fact that he might be working counter to her goals was... impossible. There was another explanation, and the idea that he might be working against Talon was so unimaginable that even when he was doing things he considered out of the ordinary and worthy of questioning, they were not questioned. He got nearly everything he needed to do to get Rei out of there done by little past the afternoon, but there were still loose ends. He needed a distraction. Something bigger than Rei. Something to overwhelm the facility.

He sat in the lab for hours, wracking his brain. What. What could he do that couldn’t be traced back to him that would cause a big enough distraction to get Rei out of here? Nothing to burn the whole facility down, no, of course not.

“Incoming Call from Seye Ogundimu,” the Lab AI spoke.

“Accepted,” said Aedan.

“Eeeeyyyyy Twiggy!” Seye’s voice came on the line.

“Beefcake,” Aedan said in turn.

There was a snort on the other end. “How’s Iceland?”

“Surprisingly not very icy,” said Aedan, “Thailand?”

“Pretty Thai...” said Seye.

“Good,” said Aedan, “Good to hear some can keep it consistent.

“Who are you talking to?” a slightly French accented voice came on the line, “Oh-- The clone. Carry on.”

“Who was that?” said Aedan.

“Oh it’s Faustine. Don’t worry about her. She’s just here to judge your immortal soul,” said Seye.

“You’re hilarious,”said Faustine, flatly.

“Oh no worries at all,” said Aedan, “Clone, remember? And ginger at that. Nary a soul to be seen.”

Seye snorted again. “So how’s Urdr treating you?”

“A bit gloomy compared to Oasis,” said Aedan, turning around in his swivel chair, “But I suppose it doesn’t matter to the Amalgams,” he said, looking around the lab, “So it’s as good as any.”

“You’re still working with those blobby things?” said Seye.

“Until we can get Reyes stable, yes, we’re still working with the blobby things,” said Aedan with a slight eye roll.

There was a huff on Seye’s end. “Just be careful, all right? I know--scientist, and all, but you remember what happened last Halloween.”

There was a beat and Aedan’s face lit up. “Yes...” he said, “I do remember.”

“...had to break out the flamethrowers and everything....” said Seye.

“Yes...” said Aedan.

“We’re going to be late,” Faustine spoke up again.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there,” said Seye, “Hey, I gotta go. Take care of yourself, all right?”

“Yeah,” said Aedan, “I will.”

“Later!” Seye’s voice sounded over the comm before cutting out.

“Later,” said Aedan, knowing Seye wouldn’t hear him.

Aedan’s eyes flicked to the nanite amalgams in their glass tubes lining the walls.

“...Right,” he said softly.

---

Aedan was back at the facility apartment well before Moira. He cooked, as he liked. Portobello mushrooms with poached eggs and spinach. Something with a decent amount of attention and skill. Moira had to practically drag herself through the door.

“Wretched girl,” Moira muttered under her breath. Not a greeting. Not addressed to him, but he took it as one all the same.

“Asset proving difficult again, I take it?” said Aedan, putting two plates down on the table.

“She has the worst of both of them,” Moira muttered as Aedan placed a glass of riesling in front of her, “You can just tell. A spiteful, monstrous little creature.”

“Figures as such,” said Aedan with a shrug.

Moira looked down at her plate. “Oh... A thaisce...” she said, running her hand through her graying red hair, “It’s lovely.”

“I figured it would be another stressful day for you,” said Aedan with a smile, “Might want something easy on the stomach.”

Moira sectioned off her mushroom and egg, yellow yolk bleeding out onto her plate, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re the only thing I ever got right,” she said quietly.

“I’m not perfect,” Aedan said with a shrug.

“But you’re human,” said Moira, taking a bite of her food, “Or... at least what humans should be.”

“...I wish you’d met better humans in your life, Mum,” said Aedan, eating his own food much more easily this time, “I don’t think I’m that high of a bar.”

Moira snickered a little. “Don’t worry about me. We’re going to change things,” she said, some firmness in her voice, some confidence, “I promise you that much.”

Aedan just smiled and nodded.

They finished their dinner. Aedan did the dishes. Moira excused herself to her room to look over more lab footage and review correspondence. Aedan almost felt a little bad at how easily he he was able to tell what would happen next. Moira was curled up on her bed within the hour, fully dressed, deeply asleep. Of course that was to be expected with the near all-nighter she pulled before. He knew he wouldn’t have another window like this. He walked out of the apartment.

He headed to Urdr lockers. He got into the labtech clothing, slipping the necklace into the pocket of his labcoat, put on the mask, surgical cap, and goggles, and headed down the halls to Lab 9 with the assassin armor under his arm. He made a point of stopping and talking with other labtechs on the way, making a shell game of it, changing his position in the hallway, handing the armor to the other labtech and asking if it felt too heavy, changing position with them, then taking it back and continuing on his way to Lab 9. He glanced at his watch on the way there. 9:41. One Labtech on duty. He opened the door to Lab 9 and strolled in. The labtech wasn’t even looking at Rei, and why would he be? She was just as unconscious as before. He was fiddling away at his comm, no doubt texting about more interesting things, and Aedan couldn’t blame him for that. Aedan didn’t have to be in view of the camera’s lens to unplug it. The labtech didn’t even look up at Aedan apparently stretching in the direction of the security camera. The Labtech did make the effort to glance up and put his comm away as Aedan approached him, though.

“Sturluson?” the labtech said, “I thought they had you at the labsite in--”

Aedan put a hand on the labtech’s shoulder and his own abilities and the biotic rig did the rest. Aedan’s breath shuddered slightly, sucking energy right out of the labtech’s muscles and nervous system until the labtech dropped to the floor, unconscious. Aedan rolled his wrist. “Nothing personal,” he said quietly, before stepping next to the stretcher where Rei was strapped down. He looked her over a moment. She seemed to be mostly unharmed. No visible bruising. They had wrapped her up in one of their on-site operating gowns, a slightly more dignified step up from a typical hospital gown with fasteners in the front and back, as well as along the shoulders, but... still a hospital gown. Not something she could just run around the facility in. He put the assassin armor down on her stomach, and she was about as responsive as a pile of gravel. He worked quietly and efficiently, undoing the anesthetic mask from Rei’s face, unstrapping her wrists, taking her arm, gingerly pulling the needle of the IV of sedatives out, snapping the needle off, stopping the tube off and re-taping it down so it appeared as if she still had an IV in it for any other guards or labtechs he might run into coming out of here. He re-strapped her wrists down--just for the time being. If the restraints were off it would rouse suspicion.

“And here...” he unlocked the wheels of her stretcher, “We go,” he said, having to throw far more of his weight than he thought he’d have to against the stretcher to move it forward. He grunted with the effort of simply moving it across the lab, then he had to negotiate with opening the door, stretching awkwardly over Rei to reach the panel next to it, then struggling with the door sliding shut on the stretcher several times as he attempted to push the stretcher through, then he himself getting clipped by the door when he attempted to get through the door as well.. He huffed, not panting--he could have panted but he really didn’t want to admit how much that last effort had put him out of breath-- before taking Rei’s stretcher and moving down the hall. Rei was (thankfully) unconscious through all of this. “Okay,” Aedan said quietly to himself, “Just need to get you to my lab before--”

Rei groaned a little in her sleep.

“...Before you wake up,” said Aedan quietly, and then began pushing her stretcher harder and moving faster, “Mum really wasn’t kidding about that dragon metabolism thing, was she?”

“‘zmum...” Rei mumbled from the stretcher.

“No, no, we’re not talking, you’re still asleep,” said Aedan, moving the stretcher a little faster. He had to get to his own lab. He had put the security cameras on a loop there. It would give them time.

“Hey--” another labtech stepped up alongside the stretcher, “Do we have clearance to move the asset?”

“I have clearance,” said Aedan, lying, continuing to push the stretcher, his lab was close, “But if you want to take it up with Moira at the on-site residences, be my guest. You know how she loves people interrupting her in her spare time.”

“...Do you need a hand?” said the labtech.

“Do you have clearance?” asked Aedan.

The Labtech immediately shut up at this and continued on his way. Aedan wasn’t sure how much time he had bought himself.

“Nnh...” Rei’s brow furrowed.

“Still asleep,” Aedan said to himself, rushing the stretcher down the halls, “Just a little longer...” he said as they reached his own lab. It was another painful bit of maneuvering with the sliding door and the panel and getting the stretcher through (the stretcher really was meant to be pushed by two people), before finally getting Rei into his own lab and buckling over to catch his breath and try and calm his nerves. “Okay,” he said to himself, “Okay. Okay. Step one. Done. Step two--”

Rei groaned a little from the stretcher. Aedan exhaled, then walked over and unstrapped her wrists, then the straps across her chest and waist and legs. Rei was mumbling sleepily as the straps came off. She stirred slightly and Aedan flinched back from the straps at her ankles before stepping over to better look at her face. Aedan could see her eyes moving beneath her lids, unsure if it was REM sleep. Her lips were parted but her jaw was tight. He noticed a crusty line of dried drool leading down her cheek from the corner of her mouth and unthinkingly brought up a gloved hand and began gently flaking it off with his thumb.

Her eyes flicked open.

Then flicked to him.

He was stunned for half a second, his thumb still on her cheek. “Uh... hey,” he started.

She punched him in the face.

The labtech mask absorbed most of the shock of the blow but still it was strong enough to send him reeling back, the labtech goggles cracked in one lens from the strike. Rei sat bolt upright, then swayed from the rush of blood from her head, pressing her hands to her forehead, then glanced down at the straps still on her ankles and began feverishly getting them off. She was terrified, disoriented. She moved to get off the straps and then moved to scramble off of the stretcher, but her movements were clumsy, sluggish, and imbalanced.

“Wait--Wait!” Aedan rushed over, managing to catch her before she fell to the floor, supporting her upper torso as it hung off the stretcher.

“Get off of me!” she said, trying to shove him back. Even with all the drugs in her system she was incredibly strong and it was a struggle just to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

“Listen--” Aedan tried to calm her down but she was still scrambling in his grip, “Just listen to me for one second!” Rei looked into his eyes, into the cracked labtech goggles, fight-or-flight still flashing in her own eyes when Aedan said, “Who do you think undid those straps!?”

Rei paused, then looked at the straps on her stretcher, then to him.

“Just...” Aedan pushed her weight back slightly so that she was centered on the stretcher again before taking a step away from her and bringing his hands up, “It’s okay,” he said, slowly reaching into his labcoat pocket and pulling out her necklace and hair ribbon. He took a tentative step forward and set the necklace and hair ribbon down on the stretcher next to her. She quickly snatched them up, clutching them both to her chest before looking back at him, brow crinkled in confusion. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said calmly.

“What is this?!” said Rei, “What’s going on!?”

Aedan took a deep breath, then took off the surgical cap, labtech mask, and goggles. Rei’s eyes widened at finally seeing his face.

“...Aedan?” said Rei.

“This is a rescue,” said Aedan, “I’m getting you out of here.”

A long pause passed between them.

“What?” said Rei.

#Reidan #follow for more Gency kid facts #Moiraspawn #Gency

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miraculouspaon · 7 years

Text

Where Have All The Heroes Gone And Where Are All The Gods?

Chapter Forty-Five: The Battle for Paris: Part Two

AO3

“Well?” Emma whispered, although there was no one close enough to overhear. Louis scanned the Luxembourg from their vantage point on the lawn, far enough back to avoid detection.

“They did it,” he whispered back, shoving his free hand into a pocket. “The defenses are weakened.”

“Enough so that I can teleport in and grab them?”

Louis shook his head. “No. We still need to fight our way through. But it’s possible now.”He tightened his grip on Emma’s hand. “They knew we wouldn’t be able to rescue them right away, and they all insisted on going in anyway.”

Emma nodded silently, then looked at her brother. “Ready to go back?”

“Yeah.” Before he’d even finished saying the word, they’d returned to the makeshift command center of the Resistance. A second later Emma dropped her transformation, and with it their invisibility. Every head in the room turned towards them, and their mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re back,” she said. She was sitting on a small couch off to the side of the room, her arm around Dani. “Did it go okay? Nobody saw you?”

“We were invisible,” Emma said, as Louis dropped her hand and crossed the room. “So… no.”

“Don’t get smart with your mother,” Alya said. She was currently in the center of the room, standing over a large table and looking down at a map of Paris alongside General Benois. “You two missed the latest broadcast while you were out.”

“Oh,” Emma said, her face falling as she looked back at Marinette. “So they finally exposed you?”

“They exposed all of us,” Dani said flatly. “Every single person in the family. They even know which of the two of us is which. They got their Miraculous detectors up and running, apparently.” She leaned back into the cushions, trying and failing to appear casual. “The execution for Grandma and Grandfather and Uncle Jonathan is scheduled for Friday.”

Emma went pale. “Well… well, that’s good, right? It means they’re still alive. We’ll have the city back before Friday.” Dani shrugged.

“Of course it’s good,” Alya said firmly. She looked over at Louis. “How did everything look?”

“Their mission was a complete success,” he said. “The Luxembourg defenses are a wreck, and even if the Order notices, they won’t have time to get them back up by tomorrow.”

“Might have been nice to know beforehand,” the general muttered under his breath, “that their mission hinged on the honor of a supervillain.”

“He did it, didn’t he?” Emma snapped. “Can we just focus on what’s left to do?” Emma never would have spoken to the country’s Chief of Defense in such a way if she’d put any forethought into it whatsoever, but to her surprise he nodded after half a second of shock.

“Of course,” he said. “How did the other half of your reconnaissance go?”

After the New Year’s mission, when Alya had first been faced with the prospect of bringing in actual military intelligence to the Resistance, she’d been cautiously elated. Just the thought of experienced, tactical minds that could review their plans, improve them, brainstorm them, was almost too much to hope for. Alya hadn’t even thought to dream that Benois or the others would be able to bring in actual resources. But after debriefing the officers on the state of things, they had immediately begun telling Alya and her people about all the ways Paris was equipped to defend herself from major threats. Particularly the numerous top-secret cells designed to hold dangerous sorcerers and suppress their magic. Cells nobody in the Resistance had any idea existed. Cells that, hopefully, nobody in the Order had any idea existed, either.

Emma looked over at Louis, now sitting on the couch next to their mother, and he sighed. “There’s no sign of any Order presence near the cells,” he started. “I think it’s safe to assume they don’t know about them.” Benois nodded. “And they’re working perfectly.”

“But?”

“But… they’re not strong enough to hold Thornton.”

“Head of the Order in Paris,” Dani muttered to her mother, before Marinette had a chance to voice the confusion Dani had picked up on. “One of Carew’s inner circle.” She looked at Louis. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re not as accurate reading people’s magic potential from TV clips, maybe he’s not as-”

“I’ve seen him in person,” Louis interrupted. “Remember? At the New Year’s gala. Trust me, he can break out of the anti-magic cells. He’s almost as powerful as Carew. They’ll hold anyone else in Paris, but not him. We’ll have to keep him knocked out or something, until we can come up with something stronger.”

Benois raised an eyebrow. “Not to offend all the superhero sensibilities present,” he said, “but if this Thornton is so dangerous, maybe keeping him alive doesn’t need to be our top priority.”

“We are not killing a man just because keeping him alive might be inconvenient,” Marinette said, incensed.

“It could be a hell of a lot more than inconvenient if your son is right,” Benois replied. “It could jeopardize the entire mission. Freeing Paris is going to be hard enough, and I didn’t spend four months in an Order prison camp just to-”

“You don’t have to lecture me about Order prisons, I’m very familiar with them,” Marinette snapped.

“That’s enough,” Alya said wearily, still staring at the map. “We can figure it out once we actually have him. There are a few dozen more pressing concerns at the moment.” She bit back a yawn and looked at Benois. “Are we ready to start taking back the outer precincts? Lisbon, Rome, Berlin, Amsterdam, they’re all ready to start their own uprisings. They’re just waiting for word from us.”

Benoit nodded. “Yes,” he said carefully, “I believe we’re ready to set up.” He looked over at the superheroes. “We don’t want to pull you four in too soon,” he said. “Other than identifying the powerful wizards and teleporting them to the cells, let the other members of the Resistance handle taking back the outer precincts. Based on what General Lahiffe has told me,” Benois had already called Alya this at least a dozen times in the past week, but she still blushed slightly, “I predict the Order will pull back to the Luxembourg by this time tomorrow. That’s when we’ll need you four at your best. Until then, you’ll stay out of danger as much as possible, understand?”

The three kids nodded begrudgingly, but Marinette agreed eagerly. “Absolutely,” she said, “the kids stay out of it as long as they can.” Then, very quietly under her breath, “Finally, we agree on something.”

~~~

Sleep was not coming easily for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She’d said goodnight to her children almost an hour ago now. Emma and Louis had been coming and going throughout the afternoon and evening as the Resistance began its assault and chipped away at the Order’s hold on the city, identifying the defeated Order guards with magic and teleporting them to the now heavily guarded anti-magic cells of Paris before they could regain consciousness. All three were upstairs, getting some desperately needed sleep before tomorrow’s final assault. Sleep that Marinette also desperately needed before tomorrow.

It was hardly surprising, Marinette’s insomnia. She always had trouble the night before something big, whenever she felt the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. Of course, that feeling had never been quite as apt as it was now.

And of course, sleeping alone was hard to get used to.

Marinette was just about to get up, to walk around-not outside, she knew she couldn’t go outside-when there was a soft knock at her open door, and three faces peered in.

“You okay?” Dani asked, and Marinette remembered all over again that keeping her fears and anxieties hidden from her children was no longer an option. She smiled gently.

“Is there any point in me bothering to answer that question from you anymore?” Marinette asked. Dani shrugged, and the three of them entered the room and sat down on the bed, crowding around their mother. “I’ll be fine, kids. I just,” she sighed, “I don’t know, it’s a lot of things. I’m worried about your grandparents, and Alya and Nino, and I wish you three could sit tomorrow out. I know you can’t,” Marinette added quickly, cutting off her children’s united cries of protest, “but I’m your mother, I can’t help wishing it all the same.”

“We’ll be a lot safer tomorrow than we usually are,” Dani said, taking her mother’s hand. “We’ll have you protecting us.”

“We’ve never gone on the offensive like this before,” Emma said, hugging her knees to her chest and pointedly ignoring the glare her sister shot her. “Just quick in-and-out rescue missions.”

“Oh my God,” Dani said, exasperated, “what part of ‘Let’s go downstairs and make Mom feel better’ was confusing for you?”

“It’s not your job to make me feel better, sweetheart,” Marinette said quickly. “And like it or not, you can’t keep me from worrying about you three. That’s a lifelong occupation for me.” She did her best to smile reassuringly.

“We know it’s more than that,” Louis said. “It’s okay to be disappointed, we know you didn’t want this for any of us.”

Marinette opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. She stared at her children, her eyes growing damp. Finally, Dani glared at both her siblings. “Jesus, if I’d known how bad you two would be at this I would have come down here by myself,” she snapped.

“No, Louis is right,” Marinette said. “I am disappointed, and I suppose I’m not doing a very good job at hiding that. But not in you three, never in you three, do you understand? I-” she let out a frustrated sigh. “We had this whole plan, your father and I thought we’d figured it out perfectly. Your lives would be completely normal for sixteen years, you’d have perfect childhoods, and then we’d tell you everything. You’d have a few years of knowing, of getting used to the idea, learning everything we could safely teach you, and then your father and I would start pulling back. We’d go on fewer patrols, transform less and less, slowly start to retire. And if some new crisis arose after that and you three got pulled in to deal with it, well, you’d be adults by then.” Marinette blinked back a few tears. “I guess that was pretty stupid of us, to think we had any control over anything.”

Dani took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Marinette shook her head. “No, it isn’t. We should have told you kids everything years ago, the second you were old enough to understand. Trying to make everything perfect just put you in danger. God, what if your grandparents had been taken, too? Or if they had been out of the country when all this… I can’t even stand to think about what would have happened to you three if they hadn’t been here to explain things, to protect you. I don’t know why we all thought secrecy would keep you kids safe. It certainly didn’t do anything to protect your father when he was your age.” She sighed again. “And tomorrow you’ll be in more danger than ever.”

“It’s bigger than us,” Louis said. Marinette let out a small laugh.

“That’s what One-that is, that’s what Pyra said,” Marinette said. “And you’re both right. I should probably try to focus on the actual stakes, instead of all this personal stuff.”

For a few moments there was silence, and then Dani broke it impulsively. “Benois’ daughter is pregnant,” she said in a rush. The other three looked at her, surprised. “She’s due in a couple of months. I asked her about it, when we were rescuing all the families of the generals before liberating the camp. It’s his first grandkid, she was going to surprise him with the news but his birthday was a week after the occupation started. So he didn’t know until we got him out and he saw her last week. The mission tomorrow, I know he talks about it like he’s thinking about everyone in Paris equally, but really? Really, for him it’s all about whether his first grandchild is born in a free country or not. A country he’s supposed to be defending.” Dani paused to organize her thoughts. “Trying to pretend it isn’t personal, that’s a losing game,” she said. “Trust me, if it’s personal you can’t force it to be impersonal. But maybe it’ll help to remember that it’s personal for everybody else, too.”

Marinette nodded, then leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “You’re right,” she said. A quick look of embarrassment crossed her face. “You know, I wish you’d mentioned that before today, I might have had an easier time…” Marinette trailed off.

“Not biting Benois’ head off?” Louis suggested. Marinette chuckled.

“Yeah, that,” she agreed. “I don’t always… well, Benois isn’t the first high-ranking authority figure I’ve butted heads with as Ladybug, that’s for sure.”

“It went both ways,” Dani pointed out. “Benois said that thing about… what was it?”

“Superhero sensibilities,” Emma said, her voice soft. “Because of Thornton.” She bit her lip, then glanced at her mother. “I don’t care if Thornton dies,” Emma confessed. “I don’t want to kill him, but if we have to kill him to keep Paris safe I won’t feel bad about it, not after everything he’s done. I guess I don’t have that superhero sensibility Benois was talking about.”

“Sweetheart,” Marinette said quickly, “you’re not the only pragmatic superhero. You don’t have to-”

“Well, I care if he dies,” Louis interrupted suddenly. “I want him to live through this. I want everything to go back to the way it was, and I want to watch him and Carew and all the rest of them go on trial. People have died. Maybe if some international tribunal finds Thornton guilty of those deaths I can finally stop feeling so guilty about them.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped. She wasn’t able to blink away her tears this time. “Louis, baby, tell me you don’t really feel responsible for-”

“Of course he does,” Dani interrupted. “We all do. Not just the three of us, I mean everyone that’s been a part of fighting the Order for the last four months. Us, Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino, Grandma and Grandfather… everybody.”

Marinette looked at her three children, trying to steady herself, to keep her voice from breaking. “You’ve done so much,” she said, in more of a whisper than she’d intended. “You’ve saved so many people.”

The teens exchanged a quick glance, and then Emma spoke. “You’ve been doing this for forever, Mom,” she said. “I looked up a ton of stuff about you before all this happened, before I even knew it was you. You’ve saved way more people than we have, but there were a few-not a lot, but a few people-and even though you did your best, even though nobody could have done better, there were a few people you and Dad couldn’t save, weren’t there? Marinette nodded slowly. “Well… in thirty years, did you ever figure out how to not feel guilty about that?”

Marinette sighed. “No,” she admitted. “No, we never did.” She put her arms around all three of her children, pulling them close together in a giant embrace. They hugged her back as best they could, and she sighed and kissed the tops of their heads and didn’t let go.

~~~

“… started helping the Resistance as soon as I could make contact, of course, I’ve been smuggling things across the city for months now, but I was never important enough to be in the middle of everything like this, even my cell leader never had direct contact with Lahiffe, and now I’m in the same room as Ladybug herself, Terrapin is healing my arm, I never-”

“Uh huh,” Louis interrupted, his patience starting to fray a bit. “You know, speaking of, healing your arm would go a lot faster if you’d just, like, calm down a little.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the excited Resistance fighter apologized in a rush. “It’s just such an honor.”

Louis kept his focus on the man’s arm; the wound was more physical than anything else, but repairing the surface energy damage around it would still speed up recovery considerably. “It’s an honor for us, too,” Louis said idly, and the man immediately protested. “I mean it, man. You’re out there fighting the Order on the front lines, risking everything. No powers, no mask, just you. That’s incredible. You’re just as important as any of us. There’s no way we could take Paris back without people like you.” Louis made one final pass over the rebel’s arm, more for the show of finality than out of necessity. “There, that should do it,” he said. “Take it easy, okay?” The man nodded, then grabbed Louis’ hand and shook it before Louis could get away.

“You okay?” Dani asked, sidling up to her brother once they were out of earshot. “I know the star-struck thing is a little exhausting, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Mom seems pretty-”

“You know what’s good for energy healing?” Louis asked, annoyed. “Calm, restive states. Peace, tranquility. The exact opposite of the state every single person I try to heal is in today.”

Dani snorted. “Sorry,” she said, “but I’ll gladly take the overall emotional vibe today over the one Paris has had for the past four months. You know what it’s like to become an empath when Paris is the most depressed it’s been in a hundred years? People are finally hopeful, Louis. Joyful, optimistic. It’s like I’ve been in a dim room my whole life and now somebody’s finally turned up the lights.”

Louis sighed. “Yeah, I know, it’s a good thing. Just makes my job harder, that’s all.”

Dani narrowed her eyes at her brother. “You don’t have to heal everyone right away.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Did you have to heal that guy’s arm, or could he have waited until after the final attack, after we had the city back?” Louis said nothing. “You need to be just as ready as the rest of us for Luxembourg,” Dani pointed out. “Don’t spend yourself before we’ve even started.”

Louis nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I’ll stick to emergencies from now on.”

“Louis!”

“Like whatever that is, I guess,” Louis said wryly, turning around towards his mother’s voice. He paled when he saw who she was helping. “Shit,” he muttered, running over and reaching them just as Marinette finished helping Manon Chamack limp into one of the free beds.

“Hey,” Manon said, grinning at Louis even as she winced in pain. “Haven’t seen you in awhile. Well, aside from the wanted posters I guess. Hard to miss those, they’re right next to mine,” she added proudly. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than you,” Louis answered immediately, and Manon’s grin widened.

“What were you thinking, getting that close?” Marinette demanded as Louis pulled a solid black crystal out of his backpack. “You could have been killed!”

Manon laughed weakly. “You sound just like you did when I was five and you caught me trying to climb over that balcony of yours. I’m not five anymore, Marinette.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Marinette snapped.

“You must have gotten pretty close to whatever they set off,” Louis said calmly, laying the crystal down Manon’s chest. Manon scoffed.

“Order bastards can’t keep me down for long, never could,” she said smugly. She looked at Louis. “Nothing compared to you kids, though,” she said, impressed. “Jeez, I remember when you were five, and I was teaching you how to pick your first lock. Just look at you now.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “That was you? Do you have any idea what a nightmare that habit of his has been?”

“You should be thanking her,” Emma said, coming up behind them. “It was super useful a month ago, when we needed to break into,” Louis shot his sister a death glare, “… nowhere in particular,” Emma finished lamely.

“You should try to sleep, Manon,” Louis said quickly, grabbing his sister and leaving before his mother could ask any follow-up questions. Dani quickly joined them.

“You finished teleporting the guards?” she asked Emma.

“Until the next precinct falls,” Emma said. “Which should be any moment now, according to the latest report.”

“The last one,” Louis said. Emma nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “One more round of teleporting Order officers to the cells, healing wounded Resistance fighters and then… then we’re up for real.”

~~~

Dani stood with her eyes closed, concentrating. After a few minutes she opened them again, then picked up the pen and began marking the floorplans of the Luxembourg laid out before her. “I could be a little off about what floor everyone’s on,” she said to Benois hesitantly, “but these are the areas I’m sensing the most signatures. The people in these areas,” she made some more marks, “are particularly confident. And…” she bit her lip, then circled a spot in the center of the building on the third floor, “this area is a total dead zone. I’m not sensing a single person. It’s… off.” She turned to her brother. “Can you tell from back here if there’s an additional shield up over that area?” Louis shook his head. “Well, I think we should assume there is,” Dani said. “I don’t sense Thornton. I bet he’s in there.”

Benois nodded, studied the plans for a bit, then turned to them. “It’s not that far off from how I would have positioned everyone myself,” he said. “It’s a strong position, but predictable. With you four and their defenses weakened, we should be able to break through.”

Meanwhile, Marinette was giving Alya as much last-minute information as she could think of.

“… and you can contact us through the Miraculouses with these numbers,” Marinette was telling Alya, “and we’ll answer, unless we’re in the middle of fighting.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Just take earpieces,” she said impatiently. “They’re hands-free and not connected to your weapons. Why must you make the yo-yo do everything?”

“I trust the yo-yo,” Marinette said. “I don’t trust your little earpieces.”

“Why-”

“Louis?” Marinette called to her son. He looked over, surprised. “Louis, is it possible for the Order, or anyone, to interfere with communication through Miraculouses?”

“No,” Louis said, still looking confused. “They’ve got built-in defenses, nobody can tap them or access-”

“That’s why,” Marinette said, turning back to Alya. “Last time I went up against a magician while using one of those earpieces he sent a fake message through it and I almost died. I’m not risking my kids like that.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “The second this is all over,” she said, “I am sitting you down and getting that damn interview out of you and you’re not going to be able to just win arguments with random stuff I’ve never heard about anymore.”

~~~

“Duck!”

Marinette dodged just in time as a bolt of energy flew past her, towards her children. Louis threw up a shield, and the bolt bounced away harmlessly. Before the guard could shoot off another, Marinette threw out her yo-yo. The string wrapped around the man’s ankles, and she yanked his feet out from under him, pulling him to the ground with a heavy thud and knocking him out cold. Less than a second later, Emma appeared by his side and quickly grabbed him before they both disappeared.

“You okay?” Dani asked her mother as she and Louis caught up to her. “You’re doing really well,” she added.

“Yeah, you’re incredible,” Louis said.

Marinette gave them both a half-smile. “Thanks. It’s nothing, I just-” she threw her yo-yo out again, this time wrapping around two guards at once and pulling them together so quickly they knocked each other out, “-can’t seem to get used to fighting without your father. I keep expecting him to be here, completing half my moves. It’s like missing a limb.”

Louis nodded. “Your Miraculouses are designed to counterbalance one another,” he said. “That feeling’s only going to get worse. But in the meantime-”

“In the meantime, you three are doing a wonderful job,” his mother said quickly. “It’s remarkable to see you all working so well together.”

Emma reappeared next to them. “Who’s left?” she asked Louis, scanning the courtyard for any more fallen enemies. Louis pointed.

“Tall redhead, two o'clock,” he said. “Everyone else is totally magicless.”

Emma nodded, watched the man for a second as he ran towards them, then disappeared. She reappeared right in front of him, fist first. He ran right into her and knocked himself out. She disappeared with him, then reappeared several moments later next to her family.

“That was sick,” Dani said appreciatively.

Emma blushed. “Really? I’ve been dying to try that out, but I never had the opportunity before now.”

“Your grandfather taught you that, didn’t he?” Marinette asked, and Emma nodded. “I remember him using it once or twice, the few times we fought together. He was very fond of it. You did it perfectly, I know he’d be proud.”

Emma’s blush deepened as a cheer went up around them, and Marinette’s yo-yo rang. Marinette flipped it open, and Alya’s voice came over. “Marinette? We’re ready to push inside, we need you four at the front.”

“On it,” Marinette said. They ran forward, reaching the doors as they opened, and Louis threw up preemptive shields ahead of them. Magic once again bounced off harmlessly as the rest of their forces poured in behind them and began engaging.

“These guys are nothing,” Louis said, looking around. “The other rebels don’t need us to help take any of them out. Where are the Order’s most powerful magicians?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say over there,” Dani said, pointing up and to the east. “There’s a large force in the library, a huge amount of overconfidence. Patience, too. They’re waiting for us.”

“Well, it’s rude to keep people waiting,” Marinette said. “If they’re not expecting us until the Resistance has pushed that far in, maybe we should take them out now, try to reclaim the element of surprise.”

Louis nodded. Marinette held her yo-yo up and quickly relayed this plan to Alya. After getting a go-ahead, Emma took her siblings’ hands while her mother placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder, and then all four were gone.

They rematerialized within the library, the suddenness of their appearance echoing around them in the great and silent space. Dani frowned.

“I don’t like this,” she said slowly. “There were a ton of signatures in here a second ago, but they’re all gone now.”

“Maybe you got the room wrong?” Emma suggested.

“No, I would still be able to feel-shield!” Louis threw up a shield over everyone just before the bolts of magical energy descended upon them. Dani breathed a sigh of relief. “Is everyone-what’s wrong?” she asked, turning suddenly to Emma.

Emma kept staring in horror at a point in the room above them. “They just took out that entire shelf,” she said, pointing to where one of the blasts had ricocheted off the shield.

“Seriously?” Dani said, annoyed. “You’re upset about books right now?”

“Do you have any idea how old some of the books in this library are?”

“You-” Dani stopped paying attention to Emma and whirled on her brother suddenly. “And what are you upset about?”

“Um,” Louis winced as another energy bolt hit the shield, “just not sure how much longer I can hold this, those blasts really pack a punch. These guys are way more powerful than the ones we fought outside. Should’ve used my most powerful shield, I guess, but I didn’t want to pop my timer.”

Marinette bit her lip as she looked around the room. “If you drop the shield when we’re ready, we can-”

“No,” Louis interrupted, shaking his head. “These blasts are more powerful versions of the one that hit Emma back in October. If any one of us gets hit, best case scenario we’re still out of the action for the rest of the battle. And I might not be able to heal hits from those things, they could permanently affect our ability to wield quantic magic. We might need to just have Emma pull us out.”

“We can’t run, we need to take these guys out,” Emma said. “Can you hold out until backup arrives? Let’s call Aunt Alya and-”

“If we can’t take them, backup won’t help,” Marinette said decisively. “Looks like I’m up.” She put a hand to her son’s shoulder. “Just hold out a little longer, Louis,” she said, “I know you can do it.” He grinned appreciatively and nodded, though beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead. Marinette pulled out her yo-yo and threw it as far up as she could beneath the dome of the shield. “Lucky Charm!”

A second later, a box fell into Marinette’s open hands. It was covered in wires, and there was a rather obvious red button on top.

“Is that a bomb?” Dani asked, incredulous.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said slowly, turning it over to look at the bottom, “but I don’t… Emma, do you know what this is?”

Emma shook her head. “No idea.”

Marinette scanned the room once more. “I’ve never gotten a Lucky Charm I didn’t recognize before,” she said. “There must be some-”

“Do you need to know what it is?” Dani interrupted. “There’s a big red button, just push it.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Emma said. “Just push the big red button without having any idea what it does.”

“It’s a Lucky Charm, we don’t need to know what it does! Besides, what the hell else can we do?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette said, “usually my Charms aren’t quite as direct, maybe-”

“Hate to interrupt,” Louis said, his voice now noticeably strained, “but we don’t exactly have a lot of time to brainstorm this one, Mom. Maybe that’s why you’ve got a more direct Charm than usual. Either way, you’ve got about another minute to decide what to do with it.”

Marinette nodded. “Okay,” she said nervously, holding her hand over the button, “here goes nothing.” She pressed down.

Instantly, the entire room was plunged into darkness.

“It was an EMP?” Emma said, confused. “What good does that do us?”

“They can’t see us now,” Dani said. “Maybe it’s safe to drop the shield and-”

“We can’t see them either,” Louis pointed out. “Dropping the shield is still too risky.”

From the other side of the shield, the four of them heard one of the Order guards start laughing. The blasts resumed hitting the shield, and Louis wasn’t able to keep from letting out a groan. Marinette instinctively reached in the dark for her son. “Just hold on,” she said, “I’m sure I can figure out what this was supposed to-”

Quite abruptly, the laughter stopped, and a second later there was a dull thud. Sounds of confusion quickly followed.

“Ouch,” a new voice said, echoing in the large, open space. “That sounded like it stung.”

Dani gasped. “Oh, hell yes,” she whispered excitedly.

“Who is-” Marinette was cut off by the sudden panicked cries of the guards surrounding them, and the thud after thud that they seemed helpless to prevent. Then the last one fell and there was silence. A moment later the backup generators kicked in and the room was flooded with light once more.

Louis dropped the shield, and Dani ran forward excitedly towards the new hero as the rest of them looked around. Emma walked over to the nearest unconscious body and bent down before disappearing with it as Marinette looked at her son.

“You gave out the Bee Miraculous?” she asked. Louis nodded. “To who?”

“Oh, maybe I’ll tell you in sixteen years,” Louis said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know, when you’re old enough.”

Marinette’s cheeks went pink. “I suppose I deserved that,” she muttered.

Dani, meanwhile, was busy gushing. “Oh my God, that was amazing, Mo-wait, what do I call you?”

“I was thinking ‘Honey’, unless that’s too cute? Apiinii wasn’t much of a sounding board, but-”

“I love it, it’s perfect,” Dani interrupted. “You were so cool! How did you knock out ten guys in sixty seconds?”

Grinning, Honey held up her hand. As she pinched her fingers together, a small black-and-yellow dart appeared between them. “Five-minute knockouts,” she said. “Is that going to be long enough?”

“Oh yeah, Emma can get all of them to oh my God your hair!”

Honey frowned. “What about it?”

“It’s yellow!”

“What?” Honey demanded, her hand flying up to her puff almost defensively. “I’m blonde now?”

“No no no, just the pink streak, it changed color. Not blonde, bright yellow.”

“Oh,” Honey said, mollified. “It looks good?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah, your whole look is perfect. Your eyes are solid blue, it’s totally badass, and the striped one-piece unitard is all classic retro superhero, I love it.”

“It is refreshing,” Marinette said as she walked over, “to see a new hero stick with the streamlined superhero look without adding a lot of unnecessary accessories like some new heroes I could name.”

Dani raised an eyebrow. “This from the woman who married a guy whose costume has a bell on it.”

“You need to recharge,” Louis said to his mother. She nodded and dropped her transformation, walking off a little as she pulled out the cookies she’d packed in her civilian form. “And you…” Louis trailed off for a second, looking at Honey. “You were amazing. I knew you’d be perfect for this.”

Honey smiled, then threw her arms around Louis and hugged him tightly. “Well, thanks for the chance to prove you right,” she whispered. “You don’t know what it means to me, getting to be a part of taking Paris back.”

~~~

Louis studied the barrier on the third floor thoughtfully. “It’s new,” he finally said, reporting both to the rebels around him, their makeshift army having fought its way through the rest of the Order forces to this point, and also to Alya and Benois over his Miraculous-turned-walkie-talkie. “They must have put it up when they realized their defenses were corrupted. But they didn’t have enough time to cast anything bigger than this one room, or anything nearly as strong as what they had before.”

“But nobody can get through it?” Alya asked.

“Well…” Louis squinted at the barrier again. “Emma could, I think. I’m positive, actually.”

“Emma is not going in there,” Marinette said immediately. “Who knows what kind of trap is waiting for her on the other side?”

“How are we going to find out if we don’t look?” Emma asked. “We have to end this. Thornton has to be in there, and once we take him out the city is ours again. The longer we stand here waiting, the longer he has to cast some horrible, deadly, city-wide spell that brings the entire Resistance to its knees. We have to end this now.”

A rustling noise came over Louis’ Miraculous. “Could she go in for half a second?” Benois asked, and Marinette made a face. “Just so she could report back on what’s there?”

“My daughter is not going in alone and-”

“Not alone,” Dani interrupted quickly. “She could bring me and Louis. I can scan all the emotional signatures in a second, figure out how many there are and what they’re up to, and Louis can scan all the magical signatures, figure out what they’re casting in there and how to stop it.”

Marinette frowned, but Louis nodded. “Yeah, that should work,” he said. “We’d be invisible, and Emma would bring us back out in two seconds. That’s all me or Dani would need.

“Well…” Marinette looked back and forth at her children. “You’ll be back in two seconds?”

Emma nodded emphatically. “Promise,” she said. “Corner of the room, invisible, one, two, then right back here.” After a moment of hesitation, Marinette sighed and nodded. Dani and Louis each took a hand and visibly braced themselves. “Rajji, eyes unseen!” The three of them disappeared.

Three seconds went by.

#where have all the heroes gone and where are all the gods #where's that it's been 84 years gif #next chapter will not take over two months to show up i promise

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clevernewdimension · 7 years

Text

Inhumans Part Twelve

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen,

Genre: A/U, Angst, Violence, Fluff, Romance, more in the future.

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

AN: We’re almost done with Inhumans. One or two parts left! I’ll probably post drabbles from this story after it’s over from time to time, but I’m kind of sad it’s almost over. Also I’ll be posting some trigger warnings below the cut. Kind of spoiler-y, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.

Trigger warning for implied sexual assault, rape and suicidal thoughts/actions.

Luhan’s eyes followed Yixing as he paced the room. It was silent save for his footsteps and Baekhyun’s typing. Some others have gone back to the base to scope it out, bring some things back, like weapons. This was going to be an all out war, they needed to plan it like one. Luhan couldn’t get over the feeling of just how much he’s missed. The news of Nayeon’s passing striking him deep. He misses her hugs, her smile and quick wit. He missed the fact that he could have gone to her with any problem at all and he knew she wouldn’t judge him for it. He can barely remember his own mother, not knowing if she’s alive or not. Now his second one was taken from him too. The rest of EXO, his brothers… in some ways they’ve changed. He’s noticed how guarded they all are. He gets the feeling that if Y/N wasn’t Nayeon’s daughter, the new doctor they’d have now wouldn’t have been able to have gotten close to any of them in years, much less months. His heart ached for them, not even being able to imagine the pain they’ve endured from his, Yifan and Zitao’s passing. He didn’t have the heart to tell them what they did with their bodies and how they were tested on. Watching Yixing worry, with this hands tugging at his own hair and his eyes bloodshot red made Luhan just want to hug the man. The cold air making him shiver as he watched his fellow countryman as he kept walking without a coat. It seems that Luhan wasn’t the only one who noticed. Minseok walks over after entering the room, catching Yixing’s hand. The taller man stopped, looking to the ground as Minseok took off the coat he didn’t need and handing it to him. Yixing didn’t move at all, making Minseok sigh. “Please,” Minseok begs, “Put on the coat. You’ve been pacing for days, your lips are blue, and you’re shivering. When we go get Y/N, we can’t have you sick in case something happens to us. In case something has happened to her.” Yixing takes the jacket, shrugging it on without even so much as a glance to Minseok. “It’s been days,” He says, his voice cracking. “If you were them, you wouldn’t keep her alive.” “That’s not true,” Luhan says, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against. “Her power is useful to them, they’d keep her alive.” Yixing glances over, glaring at Luhan in a way the older man has never seen from Yixing before. “Really? It seems like to me they don’t even need to be alive. They took Zitao’s power and put it in someone else, why can’t they do that to her?!” The anger in Yixing’s makes Luhan hesitate a moment, trying to decide on his words. When he finally speaks, it is in their native language. “They only do that to people who are dead already and to those who don’t cooperate.” “Now that they don’t know where we are, Y/N isn’t going to help them kill other innocent people,” Yixing yells back. Minseok gives him a look of confusion. He knows a bit of their language, but they’re speaking so fast it’s hard to keep up. “She would never help them kill people! She’d die before she did, especially if it means keeping us all safe!” “Then they’d use her as a bargaining chip against you,” Luhan says calmly, knowing that Yixing isn’t angry at him, but at the situation. “And if they ask for your lives instead of hers,” Yixing asks, his voice softer now, full of heartache. “I can’t do that to all of you… but I can’t just let her go. You all are my family. Y/N is…. She’s….” “She’s the love of your life,” Luhan says, taking a few steps to Yixing. He places his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “I know what it’s like. I was watching as a prisoner in my own brain the second I saw Sehun. You can not imagine the guilt I feel for stabbing him, for almost killing him. I will have nightmares about it for the rest of my life.” Luhan’s hands tighten their grip on Yixing’s shirt, “But if you let your fear control you, it will cloud your judgement. You won’t make the right choices and someone will die. It’s ok to be afraid, brother, but don’t let that fear make your choices for you.” Yixing pulled Luhan close, hugging him tightly. He could feel tears fall onto the top of his head. “It is good to have you back,” Yixing muttered, before letting him go, wiping his eyes, and turning out the room.

I glance up, seeing the ceiling of my cell once again. My body ached more than ever. I couldn't stop my mind replaying everything from the past few days. My mother cutting me and burning me over and over, making me scream in agony as she looked on without a care at all. My heart hurt, my mind knowing my mother wasn’t the one doing this, but it didn’t make it any easier. I turned to look out of the wall of my cell, seeing a few people in the other ones close by. One was a young girl, her hair blonde. She was slamming her fists into the wall, her mouth moving but no sound could be heard. The other a young woman around my age, her hair ink black as she paced her room. Her stomach was huge, she looked heavily pregnant as tears fell from her eyes. I could see my reflection in the wall, seeing the dark circles under my eyes and the bruises on my face. I looked like a completely different person. My mind often wanders to Yixing. It’s ironic, really, how he tortures people and I’m ok with it, but now that it’s happening to me, I feel awful. By my own mother, no less. Part of me wonders if she’s still in there, like Luhan was. I remember seeing him break out of whatever control they had him under. He did so after hurting Sehun… but my mother was hurting me a lot. Her eyes were always emotionless, but I still wanted to believe she was in there somehow. The wall behind my back moved a bit, a tray of food being delivered to me. I move quickly, ignoring the pain, seeing the sandwich on it. I devoured it, my stomach hurting from having food for the first time in days. Once I return to my bed, I pulled the blanket over my eyes, trying to sleep through this never ending nightmare.

“I heard you and Yixing had a bit of a talk,” Sehun says, glancing up at Luhan after he enters a different room. “I was just trying to reassure him that she will be fine,” Luhan mutters, moving to sit in front of Sehun. “I want to reassure you, too. I know she’s a dear friend now.” Sehun rolls his eyes, “Now that you know I’m not in love with her, you mean.” “Sehun, don’t be like that.” The youngest man looks him in the eyes, a frown clear on his face. “Don’t be what? Upset?” He shakes his head looking away from him. “Don’t take your anger out on me just because you’re worried about your friend,” Luhan says sternly. “I get it. You’re angry she was taken. You’re angry that they could be doing what they did to us to her. I am sorry if I did something to upset you, but please don’t try to push me away.” Luhan places his hands on Sehun’s knees, trying to comfort him. They remained silent for a while, listening to the wind as a snow storm was coming down hard. The chill in the air was so cold, both of their breathing was making clouds in the air. The howling of the wind was shaking some shutters on the outside of the building. “It isn’t just that,” Sehun mutters, his eyes still glancing at a wall. “I am worried about Y/N. You don’t even know how scared I am for her, but I’m scared for us too. I’m scared for Baekhyun. He is so fond of Y/N. Hell, she may even be his best friend.” “I… I didn’t know they were that close,” Luhan whispers to himself, making Sehun look at him. “Why do you think he’s been searching, trying to make a plan to get her day and night. He’s only slept when we’ve forced him. I’m worried about Minseok, too. He’s pretty reserved about it, but he sees Y/N as a sister. I mean, we all do, but he spent so much time training her to be able to defend herself, he’s become extremely protective of her.” Sehun smiles sadly at himself, looking Luhan directly in the eyes. “I… we were training her, and She just… she doesn’t like hurting people.” Luhan nods, “Nayeon said that a couple of times.” “She was right. I got frustrated, so I spared with her once. I…” Sehun’s voice wavered a bit, and Luhan could see the tears in his eyes. “I didn’t hold back. I said a lot of things I regret, that I knew weren’t true just to get a rise out of her. I beat the hell out of her.” He looks down at his fists, “After, though, Minseok damn near beat me unconsciousness. He was furious. I've never seem him so angry in all his life. He even told Yixing not to heal me for a few hours. To 'let the pain teach me a lesson'.” “He doesn’t lose control easily at all,” Luhan says, taking Sehun's fists in his hands. “But I’m most worried about Yixing,” Sehun whispers. “If something happens to her… If we don’t save her he’ll be just… empty. He’ll probably mourn, and then pretend he’s fine… Like nothing is wrong. He’ll act like he’s moving on but he won’t be. He’ll be stuck in a pit of depression where when he’s alone, just himself and his thoughts, he’ll not want to live anymore.” “How do you know,” Luhan asks, trying to keep himself calm for Sehun’s sake. Sehun looks up, tears trailing down his face. A sad smile graces his lips, “Personal experience.”

Luhan has never heard a sentence more heartbreaking in his entire life.

“Tell me where they are,” Kiyoung demands, swirling wine in a glass. The room was much of the same. White walls, white floors, white everything. My mother stood there, no emotions on her face as she held a knife to my cheek. I was breathing heavily, tears falling down my face as my body ached. Cuts all over my body. From my hands down to the bottom of my feet. “I don’t know,” I gasp out, my throat so dry. My stomach growling as I watched him bite a sandwich. “Do it,” He says with his mouth full, and the knife cuts into my face, from the bridge of my nose to my chin. I don’t even scream anymore. I just sit there and take it, too weak to even fight back. My eyes glued at my mother, “Please don’t do this.” “I told you, she can’t hear you,” He says, walking over with a sigh. He finishes the sandwich smirking as he pours the glass of wine over my head. “Is keeping them safe really worth enduring this for? Is it worth living for?” I say nothing as I feel humiliated, red wine dripping from my hair. His laugh cutting through the air, making me feel ill. “Well, then,” He says, taking my mother’s hand, Pulling her to the table that was in front of me. “I suppose we’ll have to try something else to get you to talk.” The second his lips meet my mother’s, I close my eyes and desperately tried to block out the sounds I heard after that. Even if I wanted to stop what was happening before me, I couldn’t, because I truly didn’t know where they were. Tears fell from my eyes as I was sobbing uncontrollably, listening to Kiyoung make my mother do vile things to him. He called her awful things, the sound of his hand slapping her ringing in my ears. “If you don’t watch, I’ll kill her.” Without debating it, I open my eyes.

“HEY,” Baekhyun screamed, waking everyone up. He went from room to room, getting everyone as he stomps around. “Meet back in the main room!” Junmyeon stretched from his place against the wall. He helps the people around him up, before going into the main room. “Man,” Neon said in English, “Couldn’t this wait until morning? Fuck!” “No,” Baekhyun yelled back in English. “Jongdae, get over here!” Everyone filed in one after the other. Baekhyun handed the plug of his computer to Jongdae, who muttered about being a glorified battery as he charged the laptop up. Luhan was at the back, keeping his distance from everyone, Sehun a bit in front of him. Kyungsoo stood by Minseok, who both were trying to rub the sleepiness from their eyes. Chanyeol was peeking over at the computer, trying to see what was going on. Jongin was stretching, taking a seat on the table right beside Junmyeon, who was sitting in a chair. Yixing was standing off to the side of Baekhyun, tapping his foot against the floor. His eyes were dark and there were clear bags under his eyes. He didn’t sleep at all. “Tomorrow, many militarizes from around the world are planning on sieging Seoul, especially capitol buildings. Cutting off power, everything,” Baekhyun explains, typing away. “How did you find that out,” Kyungsoo asks, his face stern. “I may or may not have hacked into the United States Military… stuff," Baekhyun says with the tiniest bit of pride in his voice. “You did,” Chanyeol asks, finally just fully looking at the screen, “Wow.” “It’s actually easier than you’d think to be honest,” Baekhyun mutters. “Our best bet to use the secret tunnel is then. We can get into the labs when they’re power is low, sneak in and get Y/N and others there if there are some, and get out. When their power goes down, I’ll be able to easily hack into their servers, since, in situations like that, powering their cyber security isn’t the priority. The catch is I’ll need a much stronger computer, so I’ll have to go back to base.” “That’s dangerous,” Minseok says, shaking his head. “I’ll need someone to stay back and keep me safe, just in case.” The room erupted in discussion which quickly turned into arguing. “I’m not staying,” Minseok demands, crossing his arms and glaring at Chanyeol, who suggested it. Junmyeon looks over at the youngest, “Sehun, why don’t-” “Absolutely not. No fucking way,” Sehun cuts in, shaking his head. "If you think I'm staying behind, you're crazy!" None even dared to suggest Yixing stay behind, and Jongin was needed to get out quickly. Neon knew the subway systems like the back of her hand, so she could get them there in no time at all without getting lost. Everyone could have gone, and anyone could stay. “I’ll stay,” Luhan suggests. “You’re all attached, so you should all go. I can stay and keep Baekhyun safe. Besides,” He says, crossing his arms and looking out the window, “I don’t exactly want to go back there, honestly. I don’t exactly have many fun memories.” “Your memories are coming back to you,” Kyungsoo asks, looking over at him. “Slowly, piece by piece. Wish they weren’t, honestly.” “Then it’s decided,” Junmyeon says, looking toward Baekhyun. “What about their security forces?” Baekhyun smirked, “Well, let’s just say that Kiyoung’s labs are one of the first places being raided.” “How did they find the place if we couldn’t,” Jongin asks, also now looking over Baekhyun’s shoulder. “A little birdy told them everything they needed to know, proof and all,” Baekhyun says with a wide grin. “Tomorrow, then,” Yixing says, looking over at everyone. “Tomorrow. We better get some rest and get geared up.” “You’re the only one who needs rest, really,” Neon points out, sparks of colors flying from her finger when she gestures with her hands. Looking over at him, she sighs, “So I suggest you go and sleep. You won’t be able to help Y/N if you’re too damn tired.” Just as quickly as everyone gathered, they separated. Neon stayed next to Baekhyun, a small frown on her face as she watches Yixing leave the room. He was still extremely upset. He was usually smiling and happy any time Neon’s seen him, which was mostly after they’ve dropped off people to be helped out of the country or when they’ve hidden for a few hours at her base. She feels Baekhyun’s hand pat her own, “I’m sorry.” Neon just shrugs, “It’s fine. I’ve told him ages ago anyways. I just need to move on.” “You say that like he accidentally bumped into you,” Baekhyun says, typing away. “Instead of, you know, not returning your feelings.” “I’m not going to hold it against him,” Neon mutters, “He can’t help the way he feels. If he doesn’t see me like that, then he doesn’t see me like that.” “Zoey-” “No, it’s fine. I’m really, truthfully fine,” She says, glancing at the computer screen. “I just… I want to help save Y/N. She’s a kind person and she’s helped you all so much. She doesn’t deserve anything that they could be doing to her. And sure, I’m a bit jealous, but I don’t want anything to happen to her. That would be just plain petty.” Neon sighs, “Besides, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to, so, progress.” Baekhyun nods, “So… after tomorrow, what are you going to do?” “I think I may go back to the US. Try to see if my family is still around,” Zoey says, looking over at him, “You?” “I have a feeling that, no matter what happens, whatever is left of EXO, we’re always going to at the very least, be living around one another.” Baekhyun’s hands pause a moment from his typing, “But… I’ve always wanted to see New York city.” “Well, you’re in luck,” Zoey grins, “Because I happen to be from Brooklyn! You can come anytime and I’ll show you around.” “I’d like that,” Baekhyun says with a small sad smile. “I’d really like that.”

The clear wall opens as I’m shoved into my cell, this time by an unknown guard who was in all black. I fall to my hands and knees, my body in so much pain tears stream down my face. Blood still coming from a few of the cuts I have. I stay there, sobbing, trying to wash the image out of my mind of Kiyoung violating my mother. I look up, grabbing the edge of the bed frame. I start pulling myself off the ground slowly but surely, trying to ignore the pain I felt. Opening my eyes, seeing a small object wrapped in a navy blue cloth and a note. I carefully pick up the note, reading the typed words. ‘Suffer? Or end it? Your choice.’ I unwrap the object, a small revolver falling into the mattress. I just stare at it for a minute. It was gray, and a little bigger than my hand. I pick it up, looking in the cylinder, seeing only one bullet. I couldn’t help but laugh, looking at this small weapon. The rational part of my brain couldn’t stop my mind from actually considering it. I just close my eyes and all the pain would be gone. I wouldn’t have to watch my mother suffer anymore. I wouldn’t be used to hurt the ones I love. I’d just be gone, never feeling pain again. It was heavier than I expected, my hand weakly hold it aloft. It felt much heavier than it is to me, as I held an object I hated in my grasp. I watch as some people around me in other cells are either crying, starving, or being used as some sort of breeding program. All I knew it that I wouldn’t let that happen to me. I couldn’t let that happen to me. Lifting the gun, I closed my eyes and held the barrel to the side of my head, tears falling down as I held back sobs. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

#exo scenarios #exo imagine #exo fanfiction #lay scenarios #yixing scenarios #lay imagine #lay fanfiction #yixing fanfic #yixing fanfiction #exo fanfic #lay fanfic

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