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azxremoon · 1 year

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LOVE ME LIKE YOU — GENSHIN IMPACT

summary : even in a different world, the strings of fate draw us together.

characters : arataki itto

themes : canon x self insert, college au, fluff, mildly self indulgent

notes : i am not to be perceived I AM SO EMBARRASSED LMAOOO

it all starts when arataki “numero uno” itto sits next to her in professor kamisato’s introduction to business course.

it’s the first day of the semester and he’s late. the “twenty minutes in and they’re already done reviewing the obnoxiously lengthy syllabus that looks more like a contract and now no one’s sure what to do with themselves” kind of late. it’s none of lumii’s business and certainly nothing close to their responsibility to see who’s late or absent, but their eyes are drawn to him like a moth to a flame the second he steps into the classroom. it’s difficult to tell whether or not he realizes that as he casually strolls into the classroom, door loudly clicking shut behind him. the professor, merely glancing at the new arrival, merely continues to read from one of his many papers, but his words are muddled. adorable sheepishness flits across his face and then he’s jogging up the aisle, two steps at a time.

the mechanical pencil that’s been dancing between her fingers clatters in front of her and along the lined paper of her notebook, but she doesn’t give it much mind. lumii’s eyes wander from the graceful fluttering of his pink-tipped, snowy hair with each effortless lunge to the red tattoos that travel from his face and beneath the royal purple sports jacket, then away before they can be caught staring. they have a bad habit of not being particularly subtle with just about anything. whether it’s harmless coincidence or punishment for being an awkward freak, he files his way across the rows of seats until he’s settling down in the empty seat next to her. he doesn’t say anything if he caught her staring, instead reclining back with a long exhale through his nose.

lumii doesn’t look at him after that, nor do they say anything. professor kamisato’s lips move and they recollect their pencil between their fingers, ready and prepared to write literally anything down, but any and all of his words refuse to register. he could be threatening to drop their grades because he was having a bad day for all they knew, but that concern only dawned on her hours later while she was in her dorm. the part of her that desperately wants to be friendly with someone so cool and utterly pretty pieces words together until they create a semi-normal introduction, but they become lodged in their throat until their shyness convinces them to discard the attempt before they even tried. that doesn’t stop the distracting hypothetical thoughts, however.

lumii keeps their head down, but that’s hardly new. everything about inazuma university is beyond intimidating. the magnificent campus, the ancient and gorgeous architecture, the people bustling about and filling the crisp air with chatter. it’s beautiful beyond words, but there’s something suffocating about it at the very same time. it makes a countryside outsider like them feel out of place and home has never felt so far away than it does then. they hear the occasional whispers of the “arataki gang” around campus in passing, namely in conjunction with professor raiden and her assistant, but it’s clear that not many people actually take the group seriously. lumii would be lying if they said they didn’t feel bad or wasn’t curious.

there’s an unspoken routine set into place that’s developed after the course of a couple weeks. professor kamisato’s lecture ends and itto—who’s made it a strange habit of sitting beside them, despite the many other open and available seats—is one of the first to leave and join the boys waiting for him on the other side of the door. lumii, avoiding the dwindling crowd of peers that descend the stairs and file out of the room, is one of the last to leave. they share small exchanges, asking to borrow their pencils (and mindlessly chews the eraser off of) or what was said that the other may have missed, but nothing more than that and things are actually civil. not as familiar as lumii wishes and they’re not sure if he even knows their name, but they’re okay with that.

innocently, they assume that today is going to be no different than any other day they experienced in the past two months of the semester and they’re right. it starts out that way, anyways. class is dismissed and itto is gone after handing back their mangled pencil and a thanks punctuated with a toothy smile that flashes sharp canines and leaves her stomach fluttering. lumii piles their notebooks in front of them and reaches for the bag at their feet to stuff them into, but their fingers brush against something soft, round, and too still to be alive and yet they still jump. they reluctantly pick it up and sitting in their palm is the all too familiar plush charm belonging to her classmate, the silver clasp attached to its back dangling beside it and obviously broken.

“um, excuse me?”

the few eyes already on them turns into many within seconds, and it’s just as quick that lumii wishes that they hadn’t said anything at all. the group’s laughter and conversations ease into silence, but they’re still aware of every faceless peer chatting around them as they pass by. it seems to be enough for her classmate to glimpse over his shoulder and when he realizes he’s being spoken to he turns upwards to her from where he’s sitting in the plastic chair. he smiles in recognition, but he’s the only one and that comes as no surprise. none of their gazes are anywhere close to being hostile, but there’s a clear curiousness and caution around the cafeteria table made up of the arataki gang.

oh no, lumii thinks when blue meets an orange-red. his eyes are gorgeous.

lumii clears her throat as she shuffles around in her pocket, doing her hardest to swallow her shyness and utter embarrassment. “i think this fell off your bag.”

they liked to think that this was some sort of divine intervention. they weren’t going to hold onto someone else’s belongings just because they were a bit shy, but that didn’t mean this was any less overwhelming. the idea of simply leaving a note on his desk or trying to be sneaky and clip it back onto his bag while he wasn’t looking flashed through her mind, even in the moment, but she waved that away. arataki itto was everything lumii wanted to be, and that didn’t even touch on how cool he seemed to be. how could he want to be friends with someone who couldn’t even look him in the eyes?

lumii extends her hand and in it sits a small charm about the size of her palm, but even that was being generous. with golden horns and designs of the same brilliance across its pudgy body, a little brown ox stares back at his owner. there’s something fantastical about it that makes them hesitate to even call it that and she’s sure she’s never seen anything like it before. over its back is a black temple-like rooftop with red felt beneath it and gold along the top making an intricate face. thick eyebrows (eyebrows! on an ox!) frame its eyes in an attempt to create an intimidating expression, but fails from how utterly adorable it is.

“ushi!” he beams in palpable relief the second his eyes lock onto the little guy. “welcome back, little buddy! we thought we lost you!”

he snatches ushi (holy archons, he named it. that’s so cute) from her in his excitement and cradles him close to his face. he affectionately rubs their cheeks together, nearly smothering the charm by size difference. she can practically see tears streaming down his face. behind him and circled around the table, his friends ease up and cheer for ushi’s return. maybe she was dehydrated or her lack of sleep was catching up to her, but she could have sworn she heard a disembodied moo but could not pin-point its source. she didn’t think she wanted to open that can of worms.

a flick of his eyes away from ushi must remind him that they’re in front of him (just as they were going to escape, too) because he raises his head and flashes a warm smile that spans from ear to ear. his teeth are sharp, unnaturally so, at the canines and she dares say that there are little diamonds that make up the shape of his pupils. it’s only then that she finally realizes how much taller he is than her that she has to crane her neck up unless she wants to be face first with his chest. the crimson horns glimmer proudly in the light before she can focus on what’s eye-level to her. lumii doesn’t know what he sees across her expression, but his doesn’t falter for a second and instead intensifies.

“he’s, um...that must be really special to you,” she points out and feels ridiculous by how stupid it sounds aloud.

“my granny made him for me!” he beams and lumii melts. “his name’s ushi! and i’m arataki itto! thanks, i really owe you one...lumii, right?”

lumii, a little appalled that he actually caught her name, nods quickly and grips onto the straps of her backpack over one shoulder. she expects the usual awkwardness that comes with talking with people she’s not familiar with and while it lingers in the background, there’s something comfortable about him; as if they’re talking with an old friend, yet they couldn’t figure out why. he doesn’t seem to mind her silence and drops back into his seat, dragging an empty chair from the table across from them over next to him. he pats the seat and looks back up to them with such warm friendliness that they can’t say no.

seeing the arataki gang around campus becomes frequent, if not routine, after ushi’s return that it becomes increasingly more difficult to consider it coincidence. it’s totally possible that they just never noticed how often they passed each other after keeping their head down for so long, but that doesn’t feel completely true. the small handful of them that awaits for itto outside poke their heads through the doorway, wave, and casually greet them. the group’s appearance in their life is sudden and a bit abrupt, but quickly becomes their normal until lumii can confidently apply names to the faces she once considered to belong to complete strangers.

lumii’s invited to eat and hang out with them before long, often sitting beside shinobu and happily listening to her recall stories of how she’d get the group out of trouble. she’s a little shocked when itto recalls the little things she does, some of which she’s never noticed herself. such as the way she holds the end of her favorite pen by her lips when her hands are busy; how important notes are in light blue ink; how she has to organize everything on her desk specifically before she can comfortably work or listen during lectures; or even how she watches the time when she gets antsy. he dares call her habits and her embarrassment cute afterwards!

lumii can’t say that she hasn’t caught onto some of his own habits and quirks that have him blinking owlishly at her. such as the way he slowly rubs his thumbs along his horns, or the way his fingers mindlessly comb the bangs out of his face but it doesn’t have the intended effect. she starts carrying a nail file and comb on her after that. the glare he directs towards beans, accompanied by a full-body shiver, is enough for her to try and direct him away from them. the notes he takes are short and minimal, but ushi is typically kept in his lap or at the corner of the page he’s writing and glanced to before he continues before he can stop.

although their rooms are on different levels, hanging out in their respective dorms becomes common for lumii and itto. the first time he’s welcomed in their dorm, however, they’re hiding their bubbling anxiety behind a smile and golden hair that curtains the sides of their face. it’s full of personal belongings that makes them vulnerable and she can’t look him in the eye once the door swings open, nerves and hypotheticals eating away at her soul. mementos of their travels decorate the walls and the surfaces that make up the left side of their room while mountains of round plushes surround a massive purple slime at the foot of their bed on the other.

their mind can’t conjure criticisms in the sound of his voice, but they still prepare themselves for what never comes. instead, he beams and says something too fast for their ears to catch and flies forward. they pick their head up and watch as he yanks the electro slime high in the air with an infectious smile. the babies, hardly the size of lumii’s palm, crumble and she can practically hear them call for their missing friend. he settles down on the chair adjacent to their desk and gazes at the mementos scattered about, namely the photographs of old friends in wooden frames that make her heart ache in remembrance and mourn their distance.

study sessions become commonplace within their schedules and she’s grateful that he’s able to use what time he has in his rather hectic days for her. confusion twists across his face and lumii takes the time to explain it to the best of their ability, breaking it down until dawning realization blooms beautifully across his face. they feel awful if they don’t understand something enough to help, but they bond over how “this makes no freaking sense!” before lumii can linger in their guilt. even if they ended up abandoning the texts in lieu of hanging out with the others, they still consider it time well-spent.

there are times when they sit close enough in class or when they’re studying that their arms press together and neither of them move away, let alone draw attention to it. their knuckles brush while they walk together and their fingers graze when they both reach out. lumii will never forget the close proximity between them when he turned their head. they could feel his breath across their skin, the study materials forgotten about as their eyes met for what felt like forever. itto leans away and stumbles over his words as he flips to another page, she was none the wiser to the scarlet across his cheeks up to his ears.

itto invited them to go with him and the boys to a party on campus and, unable to say no to such an excited face, attended. everything about it was overwhelming, but they knew itto was having fun and having fun that they stuck around and in his shadow. he quickly picked up on the fact that something was wrong and they left with a quick text to the group chat, although lumii was super embarrassed. he assured them that it was okay and told them that their comfort came first. they ended up going back to itto’s dorm to battle with the beetles he secretly keeps there and watch a movie afterwards, until they both fell asleep beside each other.

#[ •♡• selfshipping ]#[ •♡• ittumii ]#genshin impact selfship #selfship #selfshipping #arataki itto x self insert #arataki itto x oc #genshin impact selfshipping #fluff #college au #modern au

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maudfs · 2 years

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Journal for August 2022

From now on, I’ll be posting my DeviantArt journals here as well. I only write these like once or twice a year, lately...I’ll also write on the Summary of Art at the end of each year, of course. Let’s see if Tumblr’s formatting is better for it! (probably!) It’s long so here’s a readmore. By the way...

The last time I was on my computer, a tree fell on our house! :O Well, that's what it sounded like anyway! I was on my computer watching videos when I heard a crack, a rustling, and then a very loud crash. Me and my mom looked outside to find a pine tree in the corner of the yard had snapped in half and and fallen in between our house and the next house. There was also a large branch sticking in between the fence and our house! It appears the tree had fallen more or less parallel to the fence in our yard, except for that one branch which I think hit the roof above my room and broke on impact. Surprisingly, no one was hurt and there doesn't appear to be any damage to the house, although the fence was knocked open. We're very lucky considering all the ways the tree could have fallen, including onto an AC unit (expensive, important!), into my window (where I was sitting!) or into the neighbors window (where they were probably sleeping!). But it fell almost perfectly next to the fence instead... Gosh! We're very lucky it didn't hit that AC unit, because it was just replaced last month, as it had stopped working! At that point the heat was already in the 80's and 90's and somewhat humid...but now? Wouldn't THAT have been terrible... but, yes, we are okay. In other news... I have ideas to work on my website, but doing HTML is sometimes very complicated so I don't have much to show for it yet. For example, my old Windows XP acted like it didn't want to start up, so I finally copied all the files off of it, and looking through them made me nostalgic for those old fan sites on the late 90's and 2000's (example, example)... so my site might get yet another style change to show. I'm at the very same time thinking about making/adding a Pokémon section with my Fakedex... but should I really be trying to do all that at the same time? Sigh. Oh well, we'll see if I update my website anytime soon. XD My mom has had several procedures regarding her back, so I don't do a lot of drawing or other things around these times because I am helping her with a lot. Of course, I still haven't made a Commission sheet and it sure won't get done during any of these times, lol... If you are really interested getting a commission from me, I WILL consider, just send me a message and I'll take a look... one day I might remember to make a sheet, It just makes me nervous for some reason? It's difficult to get started... hmm. Oh right, I meant to do Smaugust and forgot about it. Whoops! I'll probably still draw some dragons but they will be late. Is it still considered part of the challenge if I don't do it in order or all of the days? Well, I'm always glad to draw Dragons, so I suppose it doesn't matter as long as I have fun. Hmm... what else is there to say? I'm still wearing a mask. I'm still forgetting to socialize. Oh yeah, the branch that fell in our yard? It was very big, but I moved it myself. I'm very strong >:3... I just had to clip some of the branches off first... at least we will have firewood this winter? ...It must be the end of the journal, because I've run of out things to say.

Thank you for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day.

#maudfs #journal entry

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readerstories · 3 years

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Magic Fingers - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

I got so many other ideas for fics with Aaron and male reader, this was just an excuse to write some “shorter” smut while I work on some longer fics. (AO3)

Warnings: smut, clothed sex

Wordcount: 2978

Summary: Working hard on a case you offer to give Hotch a massage, because the man is as stiff and tense as a block of wood. (And maybe you want to get your hands on him, but that’s neither here nor there).

The case had been hard, challenging, brutal, and difficult, which had caused the whole team to work on overdrive for the last few days with very little sleep. Which was why Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel to get some sleep, as none of you were going to get anywhere being as sleep deprived as you were.

He had tried to stay behind himself, but you had more or less dragged him back to a car while reminding him that even he was human and needed rest. Back at the hotel, in your shared room (because of course with your luck there wasn’t any single rooms left in the hotel for anyone in the team), you stretch before sitting down on your own bed, Hotch walking over to his.

You could see how tense he was, how much he needed to relax. Which was easier said then done when Hotch took as much responsibility as he did, always making sure everything possible was done to catch the unsub and save anyone who might get in harms way. Which was an admirable trait of his, but you could tell by his posture how stiff he had gotten over the last few days. The way he held himself spoke volumes to you, even though you knew he tried to shield it from the world and keep it to himself.

“Hotch?” He looks away from his jacket, the only item of his suit he has manged to force himself out of so far, while your jacket, shoes, and tie was long gone. You pat the edge of the bed next to where you are sitting, Hotch looks skeptical.

“Come on, you need to relax.”

“What does me sitting next to you have anything to do with that?”

“Let me give you a massage.” He raises a brow and you sigh, shifting so you’re kneeling on the bed instead.

“You’ve seen my resume, you know you I thought about going into massage therapy at one point.” Still, Hotch doesn’t move, so you know you have to do more to convince him.

“Remember when Reid had slept on his neck all wrong that one time after staying up way too late and I helped? Or when Morgan messed up his shoulder when going after an unsub and couldn’t sleep for days, and after a massage he finally could? It was the closest I’ve ever seen the man to weeping. Or when JJ was pregnant and hurting, but after letting me give her a massage she joked that if she didn’t love Will, and I wasn’t gay, she would have married me? Hotch, at this point I’ve given a massage to everyone on the team but you, so, get.”

You make a grabby motion with your hands. Hotch sigh, seeming to finally get how serious and stubborn you were being in that moment. He takes off his tie and shoes on the way over to the bed, but doesn’t do anything else, which makes everything a bit harder, but hey, you’ll take anything you’ll get. As Hotch sits down you’re greeted by the lovely opportunity to stare at his back without him noticing or caring too much, which would have been great, if you couldn’t tell how tense he was without even needing a single touch.

When you touch his shoulders he almost jumps, but he forces himself to calm down. Which doesn’t do much, because the instant your hands are on him you can tell it’s going to take a while and some effort to get him relax.

You slowly, ever so slowly start to move you hand, starting out gently at first to get a feeling for him. And ho boy, those are some serious knots if you’ve ever felt some. Your thumb barely brushes over one with some pressure and Hotch winces. You take a breath in trough your teeth, Hotch truly can’t be feeling any sort of pleasant right now, or really, ever you suppose.

“Hotch, if I really didn’t know any better, I would say your shoulders are made of wood with how stiff they are and how many knots I can feel.” Hotch grunts and starts to move like he’s about to stand up, but you drag him back down so he’s fully sitting again with your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh no, none of that, you’re not moving off this bed until all of them are gone and you can you know, actually be a little relaxed for once in your adult life.” Hotch scoffs, but doesn’t try to move again, which you count as a victory.

For the next, you don’t even know how long, your hands wander, squeeze, and press all over Hotch’s shoulders, loosing muscles and knots as good as you can while kneeling behind Hotch. Hotch is mostly quiet, only letting out sighs and the occasional grunt when an especially hard spot is made pliant.

When you’ve done as much as you can in this position you withdraw your hands, noting how Hotch is slumping slightly more forward now than he was when you started.

“Up the bed please, I can’t reach more like this.” Hotch turns so he can look at you over his shoulder.

“You’ve massaged my shoulders, what mor-”

“If your shoulders are any indication, you need a full body massage, so up on the bed please, front down.” You stare down Hotch, not breaking eye contact for one second. You’ve decided that he needs that massage, even if you have to tackle him to the bed to give it to him. He seems to have sensed this as he sighs, and above all miracles, does as you asked of him. He’s on his front, arms tucked under his head to use as a pillow, you now kneeling next to one hip.

Pleased with yourself, you get to work. You start where you left off from before, somewhere in the middle of his back. The knots there aren’t as bad as his shoulders, you suppose Hotch takes ‘bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders’ literally sometimes, but still you do your best to let your hands work over them until they are smoothed out and the muscles beneath your palms relax.

Over time your hands move downwards, and at some point right above the waist of his pants and his belt, your hands on either hip, they brush a particular point or points which make Hotch draw in a breath. Your hands pause before you speak.

“Sorry, you ticklish there?”

“A little.” Hotch reluctantly admits, mostly speaking at the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You say as you file that little nugget of info away in a part of your brain you’ve dedicated to Hotch. You make sure to avoid that spot when your hands starts up again, instead moving to his lower back. There you find a knot truly worth your skilled hands, taking several minutes before you can move your hands from that spot. You realize you’ve accomplished your goal there when Hotch lets out a loud groan as you fell his muscles loosen beneath your hands, which you gather was an involuntary sound by the slight redness on his cheeks.

“See, I told you I was good.” Hotch doesn’t responds verbally, but nods, eyes closed now. You don’t say anything else, instead moving to his legs. You start at one ankle, slowly, slowly moving your way upwards, careful not to go to high for both of your comfort. You can tell when that is by a small twitch on Hotch’s leg, just above where you can feel the start of his boxers through his pants, and then you move down. You do however at on point press on a muscle on the backside of his knee that causes the leg to move on its own, which causes you both to laugh.

When both legs are done, you take your hands off Hotch and lean back, noting how his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping.

“Turn around.” This causes Hotch to abruptly open his eyes and look at you for the first time since he laid down.

“What?”

“I haven’t done your front yet, and I’m not about to let you go with a half finished massage.”

“I-I’d rather not.” Looking over Hotch you quickly realize, with your profiling work and previous experience, why he’s not moving yet.

“If it’s an erection that’s nothing new.”

“Wha-”

“Your body is just reacting to stimuli, happens a lot with men, nothing I haven’t seen before. But if you really want to stop, we can of course do that.” You can see Hotch’s mind at war with himself. You say nothing, pretending that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall above the headboard.

It’s the movement of the mattress that alerts you to the fact that Hotch is moving, as the man himself says nothing. When you look at him, he has his arms over his face, jaw and mouth barely visible. What is very visible, is the erction pushing against the front of his pants, and though you would have liked to look, you only give it a glance. Hotch jumps when you touch his ankle again, but you don’t start just yet.

“Relax, like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before. Happens a lot actually, my hands are just that good you know, like a god or something.” Hotch huffs out a laugh, a smile briefly on his lips. You smile back at him even though he can’t see you, and then concentrate back on the task at hand.

Like before, you start at his ankles, working your way up. Hotch gets less tense almost by the second, breathing deepening as your hands work their magic once more. You don’t go very high on his thighs, actually now you’re lower than before, not wanting to make Hotch uncomfortable in any way.

Next is his hips, you start at the one closest to you and work your way up towards his shoulder instead of across his stomach. He still has his arms over his face, so you poke him in the bicep to get his attention.

“Arm please.” Hotch’s sigh is deep, but he moves his arm so you can take it. You’re gentle, well, as gentle as you can be while kneading out knots from tired muscles. His bicep is firm under your fingers, needing a lot less attention than his shoulders luckily.

When you’re done with that arm, you let it go, tapping on his other so he can move that of his face and switch it for the one you finished with. The angle of it is a bit awkward, and you probably should move for easier access, but honestly you can’t be bothered as you’re very close to being finished. However, your knee protests, telling your body that hey, moving is good as not to let limbs fall asleep.

But instead of doing the logical and probably better thing of getting of the bed and walking around, your tired brain decides to just move one leg over Hotch waist, intending to just move the other one over and after. Hotch draws in a slight breath at the motion and then something in your leg fails you, causing you to drop down on Hotch, putting most of your weight on top of Hotch’s crotch. Hotch moans out loud as his hands flies to your lower thighs and you go stock still.

“Fuck shit, sorry Hotch-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it-” Hotch draws in a deep breath and licks his lips as you worriedly watch his face. You’re mortified, you just dropped yourself on Hotch’s erection, holy fuck, shit.

It takes a few seconds to realize that you’re not trying to move of Hotch’s lap.

But Hotch isn’t trying to move you off either.

If anything, he’s keeping you there, a deathgrip on your lower thighs.

You take a few terrifying seconds to take stock of the situation before experimentally rolling your hips against Hotch. A flex of his fingers, but he does or says nothing as he stares at the ceiling. You on the other hand, is watching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, and we’ll forget about it ever happening.”

“Ah, um, fuck, shit.”

Silence, one, two, three beats.

“Fuck, move.” You start to get off his, heart already dropping to your guts, but instead Hotch drags you down and rolls his hips against you. This time it’s you who gasps, as your own dick twitches in your pants with the feeling of Hotch grinding against you. Hotch throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

You’re quick to find your balance and leverage by placing your hands on Hotch’s chest, grinding down, moving as best as you can with Hotch’s own movements. Hotch is letting out a few low moans, which you match with your own as you move and watch the adam’s apple on Hotch’s throat move as he swallows. You want to lean down and kiss his neck, but fuck, you don’t know if you even can kiss him, if he will let you.

Hotch answers that question for you, as just seconds later his eyes open and he moves so he can look at you, catching you staring at him.

“Ah fuck.” Before you can even ask, he’s sitting up. You yelp as the movement causes you to straddle his thighs instead, and then in seconds there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, and even fewer seconds later you’re kissing Hotch.

Fuck.

His lips are firm, but pressing against you with a desperation you’re sure to match. His hands on your hips, holding you hard. Your hands go into his hair, tugging him even closer of that is even possible at this point, which causes him to moan low into your mouth which holy shit, that is, fuck, you can’t even think anymore you think.

The world shifts around you then, and you find yourself on your back, Hotch’s erection pressed against your own. It feels so good, so big and firm, and you want to feel more of him, but you can’t muster the brainpower to do anything about it, so you just tug at his hair and grind against him. Hotch seems of the same mind, as he doesn’t move to do much more either, just moving his hips against yours while kissing you within an inch of your life.

Which should be ridiculous, because you’re both grown men almost fully dressed still, but fuck, that makes it even hotter you think. Or, you try to think, as your mind is mostly chants of ‘more, good, fuck, shit, hot’ over and over again, Hotch’s name thrown in the mix for good measure.

Hotch moves away from your lips, but doesn’t move far, instead peppering kissed down your neck on the little skin he can reach. You moan and gasp, moving one hand from his hair to his back, trying to press him even more against you.

“Fuck, shit, I’m close, so close!” You frantically confess towards the ceiling.

“Me too, me too.” Hotch breathes against your neck, one hand moving so he can unbutton your shirt and get his lips on your collarbone. He starts to suck and bite at a spot there, and that is what does you in. You come just seconds after your shirt is open for him, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” You hear Hotch mutter against your skin, and then a mutter of your name as he comes, in a low baritone that you think you will remember for the rest of your life.

You lay there panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, you’re not sure, just a mess of limbs, most of Hotch’s weight on top of you.

It’s hot, in more ways than one, which is what forces you to push Hotch off you, to get some air. He goes willingly, flopping down on his back next to you on the bed. A few panting breaths before you both turn to look at the other, smiles, then laughter as the situation sinks in. You’re surprisingly the first to gain somewhat of a control over yourself, grinning as you speak.

“We just came in our pants, what are we, teenagers?” Hotch pushes his weight up on his elbows, wincing as apparently something pulls somewhere.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like one.” Hotch smiles as you, which you return, letting your eyes wander all over him now that you can. His hair is standing in a million different directions, there’s a blush to his cheeks, his clothes are rumpled, a wet spot is forming on the front of his pants, and he looks as fucked and blissed out as you, and most certainly he, feels. You hum, your attention going back to his face.

“We should get cleaned up.” You state, which Hotch nods in response.

“I think you mean you should get us cleaned up. My legs feels like jello right about now.” You raise a brow and he grins.

“I think your massage turned off something in my legs.” You huff, incredulous, but sit up anyway.

“I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, the sex certainly helped.” You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, which is mostly smiling lips pressed against each other.

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, what can I say, you got magic fingers.” You smack his chest and laugh as you get up to go the bathroom, your own legs a little shaky, which Hotch doesn’t comment on, but you know he liked by the way he grins at you when you get back to the bed.

#aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #smut #lemon #written #male!reader #aaron hotcner x male!reader #male reader #2000

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haechanniesunflowers · 3 years

Text

Ateez reaction to you being hurt

notes: I'm feeling angsty today

Seonghwa

He had a hard day, practicing for hours on end for Ateez's 10th year anniversary concert. He wanted to get home and pour his heart out in front of you and just spend time with you. But he came home and you weren't there much to his dismay, but he waited for you. It was raining heavily. He called you again and again but you weren't answering making him anxious and adding to his frustration. Three hours later, the rain still hadn't stopped and he was scared and furious. The bell rang and Seonghwa opened the door. You stood there, completely drenched in the rain. He stepped aside to let you in. You walked inside and got to the living room when he pulled you by your arm to make you face him.

"where the hell were you? And why weren't you answering your damn phone?" he tone was harsh.

"Seonghwa please, not now I-"

"no we need to talk about this now! answer me! Do you know how worried I was? And I was already frustrated to begin with!"

You lowered your head and let the tears spill but it seemed like the rain water was dripping down your face.

He shook you arm to pull you, making you lift your face and roughly pull out of his grasp. That's when he saw the tears.

"I had a bad day too! Okay? My awful coworkers took credit for my project that I worked so hard on! And on top of that I locked the car with the keys, my wallet and phone inside! And I had to walk home because I didn't have any money for a bus or a cab! There! Got your answer!"

Seonghwa's eyes softened at your words and he tried hugging you but you pulled back.

"no I'm not in the mood and I'm drenched"

You went to your room and locked yourself in the bathroom to cry in the shower.

Hongjoong

The track he was working on was almost ready and he wanted you to be the first person to hear it so he called you to invite you over to his studio.

"hey babe what are you doing?"

"nothing much Joong. What's up"

"can you come over in the evening? I want you to listen to my song"

There was a pause from your end.

"hello? Baby can you hear me?"

"ye-ah Joongie. I'm busy these days, I'm so sorry. I'll try to come after the next week."

"no that's okay, you don't need to put your work aside. I'm free today since I finished the song, I'll come over. How does that sound?"

"I'll tell you in a few hours, okay?"

Hongjoong felt something was off so he quickly got done with his files and saved the track and packed up. He drove straight to your apartment and knocked on the door. You didn't expect to see Hongjoong at the door so you hid behind the door after opening it. He eyed you suspiciously.

"are you okay?" he asked, pushing the door slightly to get inside.

"yeah why do you ask?" you spoke nonchalantly, standing in the akimbo pose.

"you're acting... unusual"

"nonsense"

He slid it aside and took you towards your bedroom. He found it unusual how you were walking slowly and stopped.

"you're hurt." he stated and his suspicion was confirmed when you didn't answer.

"I slipped and sprained my ankle. I didn't want you to worry so I didn't tell you and I didn't agree to meet you"

He picked you up and laid you on the couch, snuggling next to you.

"I'm here to take care of you" he whispered and turned the TV on.

Yunho

Yunho is always in a good mood when he gets to see you. He wants to make the best use of the time he gets to spend with you. So during his break, you guys went to his home town to meet his parents but you stayed in a hotel even though he insisted that you stayed at his house. But you were a woman of principles and didn't think it was appropriate to stay at your boyfriend's house before marriage. He came to pick you up in his car and took you to an amusement park. You guys took roller-coaster rides and other scary looking rides too. He asked if you wanted to eat something and proposed the idea of going to a restaurant but you you told him that hotdogs from the vendors in the park would be nice and that you wanted to stay there longer and get on more rides. After eating you two took that discovery ride. While getting off you felt a little dizzy and tripped on something and fell. Yunho quickly helped you up and asked if you were okay and you told him yes, even though your ankle hurt a lot. After the fun time, he drove you back to your hotel. As you got off, you winced in pain and knelt to the ground, clutching your ankle. He worriedly got out the car and came to your side.

"your ankle is swollen" he spoke, concerned.

"it's fine, I can manage"

"are you kidding me? Why didn't you tell me you're hurt?"

"because I didn't want to ruin tee date"

"you can't stay here y/n, you're coming out with me"

"I said it's okay Yunho, I'll take painkillers and an ice pack, I'll be fine"

"I'm sorry you got hurt"

"you don't need to be sorry babe" you said and kissed him.

Yeosang

Yeosang wanted to go skateboarding with you but you didn't know how to ride a skate so he took it upon himself to teach you even though you gave the idea of him skating and you cycling next to him but he said no. He took you to a nearby park and helped you learn for over a month. When he deemed you ready, he encouraged you to ride it on your own with him holding your hands or your waist. You took a deep breath.

"you can do this" he smiled.

"I hope so" you replied and steadied yourself.

"I can already see us skateboarding down the road. I can't wait"

"okay here goes nothing"

You gained momentum with your foot pushing the board forward and continued with a steady pace.

"I'm doing it! Yeosang I'm doing it!" you cheered but made the mistake of looking back towards him which made you lose your balance since you were relatively new to this. You fell on your back but broke your fall with your arm.

Yeosang rushed towards you and helped you up. You yelped in paid when he grabbed your arm.

"it hurts so much" you shook.

He took you to a hospital where the doctor told you your wrist was dislocated.

He felt awful and blamed it on himself. He stayed by your side before and after your surgery and even helped you with your daily life stuff until you got better. You were happy to spend a lot of time with him and told him it wasn't his fault.

"you are never riding a skateboard again. Like ever."

San

You were visiting Namhae to meet San's family. He always talked about them and told you how important they were to him so you paid them a visit, knowing it would make San the happiest.

You were sat on the couch, chatting with his sister while the TV was on. It was a random drama which none of you were interested in, rather wanting to talk about girl stuff.

"Sannie is a sensitive one, though he doesn't show it" his sister let you know.

"I know, I have never seen him cry. I used to think he doesn't care but then I found out that he's just very good at controlling his emotions."

You two were indulged in the conversation and didn't see San entering the room with Byeol in his arms.

"Y/N I want you to meet our family's master"

You and his sister giggled.

"Byeol, this is Y/N. I hope you come to terms with the fact that your position as the girl I'd die for has been taken by her."

You were a blushing mess and had butterflies in your stomach. San was always kind and loving towards you. And as if Byeol had understood what San had said, she started acting up.

"can I pet her?" you asked, earning encouraging nods from the Choi siblings. You stretched your hand you gently pet her head but Byeol acted first and violently scratched your hand, drawing blood.

"Byeol no!" San whined as the cat hissed at you and ran to the other room.

You clutched your hand tightly, trying to soothe the pain but it came in waves and burned. San worriedly came closer to you and him and his sister examined your hand. There was definitely blood coming out of the claw marks. They had to take you to the hospital to get you tetanus shots.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, your hand is ruined and you're in pain because of me"

"not because of you Sannie, it was Byeol but you can't really blame her, she an animal after all"

Mingi

Mingi took you to the dance studio to show you the new dance he choreographed. He was happy with it and spent a lot of time perfecting it and wanted you to see it. You were supportive of his ambitions as a rapper and a dancer, aside from Ateez. He was grateful for you for being by his side and understanding the time and effort it required. You never complained when he was unable to make time for you sometimes, knowing that he was working hard. The bond you shared was strong and you two were inseparable.

"okay I'm gonna start, queue the music"

And with that he started dancing. You were in awe of the way his body moved and how effortlessly he executed the difficult moves. You clapped when he finished.

"wow Mingi... this is... wow... I'm so proud" you were at a loss of words.

"come on I'll teach you the floor move, it's the easiest"

It was the easiest, for a trained dancer that is. You both didn't realize how difficult it actually was. You, because you weren't a dancer and Mingi made it look like a piece of cake. Mingi, because it came naturally to him and he had insane body control so he thought it was actually easy.

He taught you how to slide using your core strength. You didn't have a strong core to begin with, so you landed on your knee and pain shot up in your leg. You clutched it and let out a whine. Mingi took a look at it saw it reddening.

"I'm sorry for making you do this" he shook his head.

"nah I shouldn't have said yes" you smiled, not wanting him to be upset.

"let's get you home"

Wooyoung

He kept his artist of the month news a secret from you. He wanted to surprise you with it. So when you saw it on twitter you called him and congratulated him.

"this is huge Woo, I'm so proud of you!"

"I know you're rooting for me. I want you to come at the practice session we're having, just so we can perform on stage too"

You agreed to come and dressed up for him. When he saw you enter the studio in your black jeans that hugged your curves and the loose green cardigan which you styled and tucked in from the front. You had your hair down and mere sight of you took Wooyoung's breath away. His dancer friend from bb trippin' knew about your relationship but some of the staff was different that day and didn't know who you were.

Your eyes gleaned, watching Wooyoung dance. He was in his element and looked ethereal. The practice session ended and before you could run to him and hug him, you saw another woman, a staff member get close to him, handing him a water bottle and wiping his sweat off with a cloth. You were stunned but didn't think muhh about it, since his job required him to be around other women too. You watched from a distance how she talked to him for some time and subtly placed a hand on his thigh, giggling and telling him he did well. You were hurt to say the least. He didn't spare you a glance and then talked to her as if you weren't in the room. You didn't ruin the mood for him at the moment but were screaming internally watching her flirt with your man in broad daylight and him going along with him.

After the session ended, his choreographer called him to discuss important matters with him and the staff started leaving. You noticed how the same woman was hanging around, until another senior staff member told her to pack up and leave. After the discussion, Wooyoung came running to you.

"did you like it?" he asked excitedly.

"the performance? yes. The little show with that staff woman? absolutely not"

His face fell at your words.

"baby listen, I had to let it slide. It's not like I could've swat her hands away and tell her to go away. Having good chemistry with the staff results in good performances. Please try to understand"

"I don't know Wooyoung. And this is just what I saw. I can't stop imagining what else goes on since I'm not around all the time"

"I want you to trust me. I'm all yours. No one can take me away from you. No one. You don't know the hold you have around my heart. You don't know what you do to me. It's you and only you. Never forget that."

Jongho

If there's one thing in this world that Jongho liked doing the most, it was comparing how strong he was compared to you. No, you didn't even compare. You didn't even come close. He loved lifting you like it was nothing, tightening jars on purpose so you would ask him to open them for you and lifting the furniture with one hand while you both cleaned. He also loved arm wrestling with you with just two of his fingers of his non dominant hand, while you struggled to win with your dominant hand.

You both sat in the middle of the living room. Jongho challenged you to arm wrestling and the loser would have to clean the dishes. He wasn't even trying while you were shaking by using the entire strength in your arm. He got a little cocky when his hand got tired and decided to end it with a bang. He used intense force and your hand landed on the table with a thud. You pulled it back and rubbed it. He didn't fully realize how hard he hurt you until he saw just how red the back of your hand was. He immediately apologized but you got up to give yourself first aid, not responding to him. He followed you to the kitchen and tried helping but you shoved him aside.

"leave me alone"

"I'm sorry I hurt you. Let me help"

"Jongho please just leave me alone right now"

He felt awful to have hurt you and after you went to your bedroom, he did the dishes. You had invited him to stay the night at your apartment so he was glad he could be around to make it up to you.

He came to you some time later and apologized again and took responsibility of his actions.

"you scared me Jongho"

"I'm so sorry, I'll be more careful I promise"

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly.

Publicly.

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer.

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world.

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety.

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee.

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?”

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte.

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing.

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist.

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him.

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside.

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it.

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking.

Well, nobody until him, he supposes.

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere fic #my writing #tw stalking #tw blood #tw minor violence & implied murder

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin - The Stories Project

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN!🍒

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide

Features S2 Gavin but contains no spoilers regarding the S2 storyline

This is a continuation of The Broadcast Countdown Project. Do read that first!

[ This was released on 25 August 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

Gavin and I are standing outside Door 501 of the 7th block in Pavilion Village.

This is also the home of Zhang Nian, the kidnapper who handed me an anonymous letter in the TV station before eventually committing suicide.

A thorough investigation of the case involving the anonymous kidnapper and his suicide has ended. The STF has also removed the cordoning around the scene.

I liaised with the TV station, planning to showcase the incident from start to end in a special episode of the show which will be aired in the last episode of “Inquiries”.

Gavin: This used to be a crime scene. If you’re afraid, wait for me here. If you need any materials, I can head inside and find them for you.

MC: It’s okay, I don’t avoid such things... Also, I have a feeling that there’s definitely something behind this case worth seeing in person.

The husband and wife who were kidnapped had related the details to me, and mentioned that even though Zhang Nian had kidnapped them, they weren’t treated harshly at all.

It’s just that Zhang Nian was deaf and couldn't speak. He could only communicate with them with hems and haws, which ended up frightening them.

In hindsight, they realised that Zhang Nian never harboured malicious intentions towards them.

MC: What was Zhang Nian’s goal and what did he want to tell us? The answers to these riddles... they might be hidden here.

Gavin pushes the door open, and we step into Zhang Nian’s house.

Gavin: This place was sealed off since the incident, which is why the arrangement of furniture we’re looking at is the same as when he was still alive.

In contrast to the dim and cold space I had imagined, the living room is well lit.

The cream coloured wood flooring, a white cloth sofa, a simple wall painting of the ocean... all of these elements set off one another in the indolent afternoon sunlight, displaying a warm atmosphere.

MC: This place gives me such a strange feeling... the person who lived here must have really loved life...

Gavin: His fiancée decorated this place.

Gavin taps on a magnet on the refrigerator. Tiny colourful slips of paper are stuck underneath zebra, bunny, and elephant magnets.

“Special discount for wax gourds on Tuesday, special discount for pork ribs on Thursday.” - It’s as though the weekly booklet of discounts from the supermarket had been copied down.

“Invitation cards, wedding dress, decide on the hotel.” - The ring which had rolled onto the zebra crossing in the news immediately flashes across my mind.

Aside from that, they have simple recipes on them.

MC: What a pity. If that incident didn’t happen, they would have had a perfect life here.

Gavin: All the furnishings and decor came to a halt when the incident happened to Xu Wen. He did everything he could to retain traces of her existence. As for his own life...

Gavin opens the refrigerator, showing me that it’s more or less empty aside from condiments which had been used a few times.

White cold mist hover in the empty space, out of sync with the warm tones in the living room.

Gavin: This too.

He opens a wall cabinet to reveal a few boxes of ordinary flavoured cup noodles. The incandescent light in the cabinet is chilly, shining on plastic film surrounding the cup noodles.

Imagining the taste of cup noodles submerged in MSG, I once again turn towards the recipes stuck on the refrigerator.

Gavin shuts the cabinet, then points at the bedroom.

Gavin: MC, I want to show you something.

[ Chapter Two ]

Gavin: During the investigation, we found these.

Gavin guides me to the bookcase, then pulls open a drawer at the bottom.

MC: A disability ID, marriage certificate, graduation certificate, guarantee card for a hearing aid and a bank book...

Gavin: We checked his background. He grew up in an orphanage.

Gavin: Back then, the orphanage didn’t have adequate facilities, and didn’t have teachers or special medical setups for guiding people with hearing issues. He was always reclusive in the orphanage, and didn't have friends.

Gavin: When he was ten years old, people from the orphanage and community sent him to school.

While saying this, Gavin retrieves a pile of books from the drawer and shows them to me - they are all sketchbooks, and the pages have long since turned yellow. It’s evident that they were here for a very long time.

MC: He can draw?

Gavin: In these books, there are some sketches of streets and still life. Some are comics modelled after existing works. Although I don’t know much about art, I think he could draw pretty well.

While flipping through the pages, I find myself affected by the exquisite details conveyed in these drawings.

Perhaps because he didn’t go through systematic training, he wasn’t limited to one style in the way he expressed his art.

A distinct and unique style leaving a deep impression seems to break through the sheets of paper, revealing the emotions the artist had hidden in his heart.

MC: ...he must have been a really talented artist.

Gavin points at the wall - there’s a sketch hanging on it. It takes up almost half of the wall, and it’s mounted in a white frame.

MC: The person in the drawing is Xu Wen.

MC: ...it’s drawn really well.

Gavin releases a “mm”, and is unable to hold back a sigh.

Gavin: Extraordinarily well.

It doesn’t matter if it resembles the actual person. It doesn’t matter if it was meticulous or not.

The person in the drawing has her eyes curved upwards with a smile on her face, and she looks like any other young girl you can find in a crowd.

But the limitless gentleness and happiness contained in her eyes - that’s a unique feature belonging only to one person.

Gavin: They seemed to be schoolmates. I read through Xu Wen’s background - she graduated from the same school for deaf students. But there weren't any questionable points in this case, which is why we didn’t probe further. If you want to know the specifics, we'd have to investigate again.

My heart hovers in the air, wanting to figure out everything about this matter.

But from the STF’s perspective, this case is already closed...

Gavin gives me an affirmative gaze.

Gavin: I know what you're going to say. I want to continue listening to this story too. He wasn’t able to speak, but he left behind a voice that he hoped for others to hear.

After a pause, he turns his head, once again glancing at the drawing hanging on the wall.

Gavin: I can feel such emotions.

Gavin says this softly, and the light in his eyes grow deeper.

Floating dust in the surroundings gather on Xu Wen's portrait. We stand in this warm and tranquil space, as though we can sense their story surging forth without a sound.

[ Chapter Three ]

After this, Gavin and I gather information about Zhang Nian and Xu Wen from various sources.

A few days alter, we arrange to meet at a cafe to exchange materials collected from our individual investigations.

MC: I found the teacher from the school for deaf students. He said that when Zhang Nian first arrived at the school, he didn’t even know how to use sign language. He was gloomy and blue.

MC: Only Xu Wen knew how to converse with him, and would teach him sign language after school.

MC: After learning of his interest in drawing, she used her pocket money to buy him colouring pencils and drawing paper in secret without her parents’ knowledge.

MC: They had a pretty happy time in school. Zhang Nian even organised a small exhibition in school, and many teachers and students supported it.

MC: But after graduation, his days became a little more difficult.

He didn’t have a place to stay, and he couldn’t find work. While Xu Wen could rely on her parents for financial assistance, he could only rely on himself.

MC: During this time, Xu Wen seemed to have been using her parents’ money to buy him stationery for drawing, and even accompanied him to set up a stall for his paintings...

MC: But they couldn’t earn money at all.

Gavin opens a few files in front of me.

Gavin: Afterwards, he found a job in a finance company. He went around conducting financial transactions for people, and earned commissions based on the number of successful transactions.

Gavin: Not long after, this company was reported for illegal fund-raising. Both he and his boss were jailed for three years.

I recall seeing his ID from before - a crew cut and a white shirt along with a black suit which looked tidy and fitting.

Turns out he wasn’t working at a bank...

Gavin: Even during his time in jail, Xu Wen never gave up on him. She’d visit him every weekend and converse with him via sign language from across the glass.

Gavin: Of course, Zhang Nian behaved very well in jail, and gave his own drawings to many prison guards. After he was out of jail, he found a stable job.

Separated by the scorching 3pm afternoon sunlight, the gaze Gavin gives me is deep with a tranquil light.

Gavin: Do you know why he planned this kidnapping and handed you the video clip anonymously?

I shake my head. This has been my biggest question.

Gavin takes out a few photographs from the file.

Gavin: Before the case was closed, these documents couldn’t be disclosed to the public, which is why I didn’t tell you at the time.

I scrutinise one of the photographs - an A3-sized sheet of paper is stuck on a door, with a few lines written on it.

From the format of the digits, they appear to be bank account numbers.

Gavin: He was behind this door.

MC: Then these bank account numbers...

Gavin: We checked them.

He points at the first line of digits, then speaks calmly.

Gavin: The first account is for an animal treatment centre. It treats stray cats and dogs which meet with accidents.

Gavin: This one is for a 10 year old girl with hearing issues. She lives with a granny who sells fruits, and is currently saving money for surgery.

Gavin: The both of them had a habit of sending money to these accounts.

Gavin: Even though Zhang Nian continued sending money to them after Xu Wen passed away, he could only maintain his own livelihood with his income.

MC: What you’re saying is, if the video camera could capture this... and document them properly so that more people would know about them...

Perhaps he could help these people. Even if it was for the last time.

MC: ...but that was such a complex method. There was no need to do a good deed in such a roundabout manner, and even kidnap people to reach that goal.

Gavin silently picks up one of the photos from the table - it’s a note that Zhang Nian wrote before he committed suicide. A short message is written on it - It’s Wen Wen’s birthday today.

Gavin: Aside from that, he more or less did think of seeking revenge.

Gavin’s finger remains on the photograph.

Gavin: In Zhang Nian’s life, Xu Wen was the only one who gave him warmth. She was his lover.

Gavin: After losing such a person, it isn’t difficult to guess what kind of an attitude he had when facing this world, and facing the people who caused such an ending.

Gavin: When people are in pain, their hatred will involuntarily become amplified.

Gavin: From this perspective, at least he didn't take things even further.

Gavin’s voice is dull, as though he’s mulling over something, or affected by their misfortune.

I can’t help but reach across the table, gently bumping the tip of his finger with mine.

Silence permeates the air. He curls his finger slightly, hooking it around mine.

[ Chapter Four ]

The files, photographs, and a few scattered pages of a notebook are spread on the table randomly, as though illustrating their entire story in front of me.

The car accident was a tragedy, but it wasn’t the only tragedy. I find myself hesitating to speak. When I open my mouth, I sigh.

MC: Xu Wen was such a good person. She tugged onto him from beginning to end, and never gave up on him for a single moment. She actually managed to pull him out of the abyss.

Even though she couldn’t hear nor speak, she used her gentle gaze to heal the person she loved.

Gavin tidies the items on the table one by one, storing them properly.

His composed voice is mixed with ruefulness. He seems to be slightly moved, but has more or less come to terms with his emotions.

Gavin: From the perspective of an observer, there were many dismal and extreme traits in Zhang Nian’s personality. This is a point that can’t be denied.

Gavin: However, he was abandoned from the moment he was born. The path he walked on all these years, and the world that he saw - those are things we’d find difficult to relate with.

Gavin: Perhaps from the time he knew about the world, he realised that living was already something requiring courage.

Probably seeing such stories again and again when handling various cases, Gavin’s attitude is objective and calm.

Gavin: No matter what attitude he had when he made this decision, he shouldn’t have done so.

In contrast to the practised manner in which Gavin handles his emotions, I remain immersed in the regretful ending experienced by the two.

MC: Aside from her, he had nothing else.

The furniture, the recipes underneath the magnets, and the drawing hung on the wall... these images flash past me one by one.

MC: If I were the one who experienced this, and the only important person in my life was gone, I’d lose my connection with this world. Perhaps death would be a form of liberation.

Before I can finish speaking, Gavin raises his voice, cutting off my impending sigh.

Gavin: It wouldn’t.

He looks at me resolutely and decisively.

Gavin: No matter when, death will never be a form of liberation. Pain can always be treated.

Gavin: Whether it’s because someone important is no longer around, or if you were to lose contact with someone, it’s inevitable to carry some pain.

Gavin: Perhaps time is needed, and perhaps meeting a certain someone is needed, to gradually put an end to such pain, and to use various methods to put an end to such pain.

Gavin: But things will always get better.

Gavin seals the brown paper bag which is filled with materials related to Zhang Nian and Xu Wen, then places it at the corner of the table which has been warmed by the sun.

I watch as his palm presses against the paper bag, a moment of hesitation surging past his slightly lowered gaze. Almost at the same time, he looks up at me -

There’s only certainty in his eyes.

Gavin: No matter when, never give up on yourself. Xu Wen was constantly pulling him out of the abyss. He shouldn’t have given up like that.

[ Chapter Five ]

By the time Gavin and I walk out of the cafe, much of the sun’s heat has dispersed. Wind blows over from the river, and it’s refreshing and soothing.

Countless little flowers with names I’m unaware of bloom among the grass along the street, swaying in the evening breeze of midsummer.

MC: The weather is really nice today.

After sitting down for an entire afternoon, I can’t help but stretch, relaxing my shoulders and back.

Before I can take a few steps, I suddenly remember the moment I met Zhang Nian face-to-face, causing me to halt in my footsteps. He had walked towards me in a timid manner, a sincere and apologetic expression on his face.

He had handed me a letter, its edges creased from being pinched. Then, he turned away hurriedly before running away.

Too much time has passed. Even his Evol has lost its effectiveness.

Gavin senses that something is off about me, and draws a few steps closer. I wave my hand at him, signalling that I’m fine.

Having second thoughts, I can’t help but sigh with emotion.

MC: If only Zhang Nian was willing to contact me earlier and tell me about what exactly happened...

MC: If only I could tell him how nice today’s weather is. I wonder if he’d have made such a decision.

Gavin responds decisively from beside me.

Gavin: He wouldn’t.

Gavin: If someone told him that the weather would be nice today, he’d have definitely held on for a while longer.

Gavin: But he couldn’t always wait for someone to pull him along and bring him out of the abyss. He had to muster his courage and walk out by himself.

I nod quietly, gripping the notebook in my hand.

MC: Gavin, aside from the original plan for this episode, I think I’d need to add some new content...

Gavin halts in his footsteps, immediately reading the thoughts in my heart.

Gavin: Are you thinking about how there are many people in the world like Zhang Nian?

MC: Mm.

There are definitely some people who are shouldering pain alone, and are hesitating at the crossroads of life and death.

MC: Although this tragedy can no longer be salvaged, we could prevent even more tragedies from occurring.

I turn towards the direction of the river, looking afar at the boundless sky.

MC: I want to tell them about the beautiful scenery all around the world, and the beauty of the four seasons.

MC: Tell them about the colours of sunset, the sounds of the ocean...

MC: And tell them that as long as they’re willing to wait for a while longer, there are still people on earth who will love them.

MC: I want their eyes to be able to see the world that I see. I want them to believe that this world is always worth it.

Realising how overly idealistic and visionary my words are, I give Gavin a smile.

MC: ...I might have sounded too exaggerated.

Gavin: Nope. It will be a very meaningful show.

He suddenly reaches out, combing my hair which has been blown messy by the wind. His fingers linger on the ends of my hair for a long time.

The corners of his lips curl upwards slightly, and he brings me into his arms.

Gavin: Thank you.

Gavin: This world is always worth it.

His voice is far too soft. For a moment, I wonder if I misheard.

MC: What did you say? I couldn’t hear you clearly.

Gavin chuckles, then raises his volume.

Gavin: Since the weather’s pretty good, want to go for a drive?

MC: Did you drive here today?

Gavin: Mm. It’s rare to have such nice weather, so I took the car out for a drive.

MC: Wow~ That is rare. It’s been such a long time since I sat in Captain Gavin’s car.

Gavin takes my hand, striding with large steps as he leads me forward.

Gavin: Let’s go. The car’s in front.

- End -

Filming for the special episode of “Inquries” came to an end. When the final episode aired, the show became a trending topic. After watching it, many members of the audience provided assistance and support for organisations targeted at disabled individuals. Although Zhang Nian and Xu Wen have already left this world, they’ve enabled people who experience difficulties in life to obtain warmth. Such warmth continues to last. I guess being able to allow more people to believe that the world is worth loving, and to do what little they can to help those in need is what it means to be a person in the media industry.

More S2 content: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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bowieandqueen11 · 4 years

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Luke Crain Headcanons

Request: Hi🥺I’m usually not to good about making request but I’m trying to breakout of my shell on that cause you are an amazing writer and I love everything you write!! But can I request a Luke Crain headcanon where you guys grew up together but distanced while he was in rehab but you came back together after what happened with Nellie! Thank you so much you’re an angel🥺💛

Thank you SO much @cathrinexxxv I LOVE LUKE CRAIN! Also I’m so ready to binge watch all of Bly Manor tomorrow!! <3

You and Luke first met when you were very young. As in, really really little. To this day, you’re still constantly teasing him and making him blush smile about his huge magnifying pair of glasses and his obsession with bowler hats.

You and your family used to live in the small village which was a fifteen minute walk away from the looming heights of Hill House, so when a rumour started spreading down the houses that a new family full of children were moving in for the summer, you, naturally, were intrigued.

One night, when you had heard from your mother that the new family had moved in, you sneaked out your back garden on a warm afternoon before dinner, cutting through the dark and dingy forest until you reached the outskirts of the property. Seeing a boy around your own age sitting on his own on the burnt grass, you waved to Luke from behind the branch of a nearby, crooked oak tree. He was startled, to say the least, but as he watched you hide slightly behind the bark, he was surprised to find he wasn’t scared in the slightest.

He felt as if he almost knew you already. As if this was always meant to happen, that you were meant to find each other here.

Nudging his glasses back up the bridge of the nose, he shyly waved back. Once he finally realised that you weren’t going to budge from your hiding place, nervous from the stories your neighbours had told you about this house, he decided to pick up his crayons in one fist and his paper in the other, before he sets off half stumbling, half stomping along the uneven ground towards you.

When he finally reaches the trunk, he stops and looks at you kind of funnily, tilting his head slightly before he decides the right reaction was to smile at you.

‘My name is Luke Crain. Do you want to play with me? All my siblings ignore me and they don’t want to draw with me.’

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon huddled under the shaking leaves, sitting on the roots of the tree, Luke tracing out a picture and you giggling as you tried to bump his hand out of the way to colour it in.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Nellie loved you of course, and saw you as her honorary best friend as well, as did the rest of the siblings (even though Shirley would never admit it, and Theo was too stubborn to), which meant constant sleepovers at Hill House.

Hugh would always chuckle and shake his head when he peeked into Luke and Nellie’s room, seeing Nell asleep on a red bean bag with a half open bag of sweets lying deserted by her feet, and you and Luke sprawled out on the mat by the iron railings of his bed, snoring.

You were also the only one he allowed up into his treehouse. Although, sometimes he was too embarrassed to let you, or his siblings, in, because he had stuck pictures up on the wall of the drawings he had tried to do of you.

Growing up with Luke also meant having to calm him down after he starts seeing the tall, floating ghost. Sometimes you would try to climb up the ivy outside of his bedroom window, only to topple into the house headfirst when you start to hear Luke’s high pitched screaming coming from under his bed. Although Olivia would come running in, she would always end up comforting sobbing Nellie, as Luke would only grab onto you, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed as you remind him the rule.

‘Breathe in and out Luke, that’s it. In and out, seven times - that’s what keeps you safe.’

‘Eight’, he would say with a trembling breath. ‘Eight times. You’re my family too.’

The two of you were gutted when Luke had to move away, but your parents could already see how close the two of you were, and so decided that a move away and a new school for you, perhaps, wasn’t the worst idea. Especially, they decided, since you had been there that night as well.

Although the two of you were close for the whole of your childhood, it takes Luke until he’s eighteen years old to realise just how long he’s really been in love with you. It takes some nudging on from Nellie, pointing out how you would run up to his locker during breaks between classes and just fill him in on how your day was going - each break, no matter how long it had been, without fail. Luke was the only person you wanted to talk to, and from the look of pure delight on Luke’s face as he leans against his locker door and gives his full, undivided attention to you, you’re the only person he wants to listen to.

Or how, Nellie would continue, you would come round to their house for dinner, and although Aunt Janet tried to separate the two of you by sitting you opposite each other, you would just spend the whole dinner ignoring whatever Theo was talking about and giving each other funny looks as you kicked each other in the shin.

Or, when the two of you got a bit older, and you would sneak out of your dorm to visit him in the middle of the night, throwing little rocks at his window until his curtains would rustle and the window latch would be thrown open, his grinning face peering down at you. Despite having spent the whole weekend together, reading to each other in the town’s local library, or just lying shoulder to shoulder watching movies, the two of you would sit out in his garden, on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you.

That’s when he finally realised how immensely, and terrifyingly in love with you he was.

It scared him, to realise this, but deep down he knew it had always been you.

He has so many nightmares though. So many nights are spent with his head lying heavy in your lap, as you brush through his golden hair, trying to shush him and calm him down, or rocking him as he cries into your shoulder because of the nightmares he has about his mother, or about Abigail.

As the two of you start to escape your teenage years, and the wishful chasing after each other that came with it, your relationship becomes slightly more strained when he starts using. You choose to move in with Nellie for a while, once he finally goes to rehab. When she gets married, and you're forced to find somewhere new to live, you think you'll never hear from the Crains again - you get the odd visit from Nell, or Theo, but they're so busy enjoying the newly wed life, or studying for their degree that it's not enough - nothing fills the hole that comes from missing Luke.

It hurts that he never comes to see you, but little did you know that he used to sit at his little beige desk every night, underneath the barred window, just staring up at the moon as he bit on the edge of his pen, a feeling of such wistfulness and loneliness and longing weighing down his chest.

He used to write you a letter, every day, just pouring out all the feelings he was too afraid to tell you, but he always crumples them up and throws them away, too scared to send them.

When Steve phones you up to tell you the news about Nellie’s passing, you told him to immediately come and pick you up.

You're terrified when you open the door and walk out into the bone chilling night to hug him, your heart thumping in your chest when he tells you about how Luke has left rehab again and is somewhere out on the streets, probably using. It breaks your heart, but you know you have to be the one to find him, to bring him back.

When you reach him, and see the man you've loved since you were a child wandering, shoeless and shivering along the freezing, cracked pavement, muttering to himself, you can’t help a tear slip out as you unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of Steve’s rental.

Luke is so terrified, he doesnt recognise you for a second. It’s only a second, though, before his eyes widen and he pounces on you, wrapping you into him so familiarly, his frame looming large above you but yet feels so fragile in your grasp as he buries his head into the side of your neck and starts crying.

‘I’m so, so cold, Y/n, and my arms are s-s-so stiff, and I’m s-so sorry, I’m so sorry-’

You can’t bear to tell him the news, so you just hold the nape of his neck and pull him tight against your chest, hating the way his whole body shakes in your hold.

On the day of Nell’s funeral, he doesn't leave your side once - it’s as if the two of you had never been separated at all. As everyone files in through the main door, ignoring the sour face on Shirley as they wander into the reception area, you and Luke just sit knee to knee on the couch opposite the entryway.

‘I tried to write to you,’ he starts, as he fumbles a cigarette from out of his breast pocket and tucks it away behind his ear, trying to busy himself with anything so he doesn’t have to meet your confused eyes, and so you don’t have to see the guilt ridden in his. ‘I want you to know that. Nellie kept on telling me off, but i just didn't know how to say what i needed to say to you.’

‘Luke, its okay, i understand how difficult it was for you-’

‘No-no, Y/n, no more excuses! You mean so much to me and i- i cant... i can't lose anyone else. Just-’

He's so gentle when he finally reaches over and kisses you, trying to shake off his fear and just show you what he meant instead. His suit rumples against your chest as he smooshes himself against you, cupping your cheeks softly with his large hands as he tilts you to the side to meet him in a needy, a desperate, a long anticipated kiss.

He doesn’t pull away - he can't - until you finally break for air, and only then does he finally concede and places his forehead against yours with a soft thud, just closing his eyes in both agony and bliss.

‘I’m sorry that took me so long to do.’

‘It was worth the wait. Although, I have to be honest, your timing has always been rubbish.’

He chuckles, his deep voice vibrating against your chest as he rests his head on your shoulder like a lost puppy, gazing up at you with those wide, lost eyes, and for the first time you can finally see the adoration and awe and just pure love that’s always been in them.

For the rest of the reception. before he tells you of his plans to go back and burn Hill House to the ground, is spent with the two of you escaping from his siblings by stepping outside and sitting on Shirley’s porch. Your arms stay linked tightly together, as if afraid to let go again, and his coat is wrapped around both of your shoulders as he rests against you, just content to be surrounded by your presence.

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haloshornsinkstains · 3 years

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3. The First Session

Written section

CW: Prison, mild violence, use of quirk supressing cuffs

Y/n frowned as she looked up at the prison entrance. It may have been done up a bit since she was last here but the place still held less than pleasant memories, for a moment she contemplated turning and walking away, dropping the job altogether. But a grinning head of green hair waving from the doorway soon put rest to those plans. Behind the other pro-hero Aizawa beckoned tiredly, holding up a cup of coffee. Sighing deeply she steeled herself and crossed the threshold, giving the two a strained smile. She couldn't give up before they had even started, not if these guys really wanted to change. They'd been dropped by so many already, if she turned her back without giving them a shot then she would be no better than the shitty society that abandoned them before. The exact thing she and the others had worked so hard to change. Reaching the pair she held out a hand expectantly, a hot cup of coffee pressed into her palm seconds later. Taking a sip she nodded her head towards the older man. "Thanks." "I was worried you wouldn't turn up." Izuku sounded relieved. "It, uh, well it wouldn't be the first time. I'm really grateful you're willing to do this for us… have you done this before?" She rolled her shoulders. "Well someone has to be willing to give them a chance. I usually deal in the welfare side, making sure reformed villains have places to go, jobs, you know the deal. Occasionally welfare within the system as well. I've only been a part of actual reforms in a few select cases. And never here." "Oh." Izuku frowned as he guided them inside, down gloomy corridors and towards the room where the league sat. "Well, I have their files here…" Y/n waved him off with a smile. "Don't need them. This is the room right?" "Yes but…" "Don't worry about it problem child, you'll see. Y/n we're just the other side of the mirror, we can hear everything so watch your language in front of the green bean." She flashed Aizawa a bright grin and a wink. "No promises. Wish me luck old man."

The members of the league were seated along a large table, bickering amongst themselves when she entered. For a moment y/n observed them, wrinkling her nose at the quirk inhibiting cuffs they wore, as much as understood why they wore them the sight still dug up uncomfortable memories. She cleared her throat, chuckling as everyone suddenly straightened and turned to face her. "Well that was easy. I'm y/n l/n, normally I'd run through the reform programme basics but this isn't your first rodeo correct?" There were a few scattered nods, but one member, Dabi she noted, stood and made his way over to her. Y/n merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He held out his wrists. "Think you can take these off for me doll?" "L/n. And not yet, you know exactly why." She stared back at him, completely unfazed. "Stop trying to intimidate me, it's not going to work." "How do we know you're not just going to use your quirk on us while we can't do anything about it?" He challenged, staring her down. "Beat us up while you have the advantage." "Oh honey, I don't need my quirk to kick your ass." He scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes. Before he could get another word out he was face down on the floor, a knee pressing uncomfortably between his shoulder blades. "Now that's settled. I'll wear quirk suppressing cuffs too in these sessions if it makes you more comfortable. And I want names or descriptions of anyone who has ever used their quirk on you while you were cuffed. So I can talk to them." She climbed off Dabi, pulling him to his feet and pushing him back towards his chair. "It wasn't anyone in the reform programme, they were all just scared…" Toga spoke up. Y/n waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. I said anyone and I meant it." She passed out sheets of paper and pens, letting them write while someone entered the room holding a spare pair of quirk inhibiting cuffs. No one watching missed the frown on her face as they were put into place, or the anxious biting of her lip. She could swear she heard Aizawa sigh on the other side of the wall. Once the assistant had left she gathered the papers, only to hand out more. "Is this a test?" Toga whined, holding up the stapled papers with a grimace. "No one gave us a test before." "I can't believe we have a test on the first day. You're a monster." Twice huffed. Y/n sighed. "I need to establish a baseline, for both your attitudes and abilities. If you're going to rejoin society then I want to ensure you're in the best place to do that. Not just that you won't start committing crimes again." "Are those math problems? And english?" Dabi scowled. "As I said, I'm establishing a baseline of your abilities. I expect you will all do well, but I need to know where to provide support if I'm going to turn you into constructive members of society." She settled back in her chair. "Stop grumbling and answer the questions Staples. The longer you spend grumbling the longer you're sat in here with me." "Is this information not contained in our files?" Compress, who had previously been quietly watching the others, spoke up. "I didn't read them. I wanted to start with a blank slate, or as blank as I could get from five people whose crimes were nationwide news anyway." She hummed, corner of her mouth twitching up in a smirk. "Just remember I will be reading those tests, and I won't hesitate to score any drawings of dicks." Her eyes slid to Twice, who suddenly started scribbling furiously on his page. She watched for a few more moments before leaving them to it and studying the papers in front of her. Pulling out her phone she started scrolling through staff lists and matching the descriptions to names.

At the end of the session she collected the papers and slid them into her bag before pulling out a small box. "Right, one at a time, come return your pen and I'll give you a phone. Right now they are only capable of messaging, but you'll be able to do more with them over time." She tapped the box. "They have each others numbers as well as my own. Do not lose them. I bought these and I'm not replacing them unless there are very special circumstances." "And if I don't want to return the pen?" Dabi huffed, twirling it between his fingers. Y/n plastered on a sickly sweet smile. "I'm glad to hear you're enjoying your stay within our prison system and wish to continue indefinitely." He huffed and nodded, dropping the pen on the desk. Once all the pens were collected and labelled phones distributed y/n bowed to the group. "Thank you for being so well behaved. You can use those phones to contact me, or each other, whenever you like. I can't promise I'll always respond immediately, I like to sleep, but I will respond." She nodded towards the door, which was being pushed open by one of the assistants. "I'll see you at the next session."

Once the League were gone she darted out of the room, collapsing into a chair next to Aizawa. "Get these things off me." Aizawa nodded, quickly releasing the cuffs and gently rubbing over her wrists as if he was brushing away the feeling of the metal. Smiling thankfully up at him she nodded her head towards the paper she'd dropped on the observation room desk in her rush. "I want to see the people on that list asap. And if there's any CCTV footage from their shifts I want that too." She hummed. "I don't think-" "Izuku. If what they said is true then it's my job to deal with that." Y/n snapped, whipping her head around to glare at the hero. "We are supposed to be better than this." Aizawa sighed, patting her head softly. "Just sort it Midoriya. Come on y/n, let me take you home." Y/n nodded tiredly. "Just this once 'Zawa."

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- y/n hates quirk supressing cuffs, she says “they make (her) skin itch and (her) blood feel like it’s writhing in (her) veins”. But, as much as she’d like to get rid of them altogether, she understands why they’re used and how they protect others.

- y/n’s way of running the reform programme is a bit different to most people’s. While there are set objectives everyone has to follow, she’s always done it her own way (and helped re-write the programme to allow for that). This may or may not be part of the reason she only gets to do ‘difficult’ or unusual cases.

Taglist: @denkisclown , @dabi-sunflower , @toshiuwu , @insane-without-delirium

#halo.writes #smau #bnha smau #my hero academia #league of villains #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x shigaraki x reader #sins of the past

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iron-mum · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Tony and kid Peter are being adorable father and son as retribution for the angst you’ve made me suffer through in the past hah! (JK I love you and your angst! 💛)

Well, well, well. What do we have here, eh? A request for adorable? I'm not sure, I'm very good at that 😌

Here's SIMTony who would stop at nothing to help his unwell son, Peter get better. Even if it meant using Extremis.

P.S. ILY3000 💕

In the final throes of the graveyard shift at the hospital floor, the elevator pinged for its frequent lone visitor. The front desk staff, whilst tense and sitting up suddenly straighter, knew not to actually engage. No ID was needed for their boss, one of them barely suppressing a gulp as his determined strides headed for the private room that had been deliberately placed near to the room equipped for every possible kind of emergency. Once inside, he carefully shut the door silently and took a seat at the bedside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp blue eyes shifted from the persistent buzzing of the most technologically advanced medical equipment anyone, anywhere could offer before looking back down to something far more invaluable and precious. Tony’s entire world. His purpose in life. The little boy on the bed lay motionless, breathing slowly and evenly, nose occasionally scrunching up at the discomfort of the oxygen mask upon him. He should have been cocooned in a hug from his father but instead his son, Peter, was littered with wires attaching him to the very best modern medicine had to offer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Pale, soft skin with the daintiest of freckles stood out against the dark curls spread across the far too big pillow. The small fingers of his left hand had loosely closed around the calloused thumb of his father, letting him know that whilst he had been rendered weak from illness, he was still aware of his comforting presence. Tony’s index finger gently glided across the small knuckles, willing himself to see a tiny curve of the lips on his son’s face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

This had been the Avengers fault. Peter’s current critical condition. The young boy had been on a school trip when a battle had broken out and the wannabe heroes managed to cause more destruction than lives saved. A chemical explosion had landed most of the class in hospital and many of them had ended up becoming very unwell. Unfortunately for Peter, he already suffered many ailments so even under the wing of Stark’s finest medical personnel, the struggle had taken a toll. The genius shook his head as thoughts of revenge started to sprout from the many seeds that had been planted since the catastrophic incident. He shelved the many ideas he had that would lead to the demise of the reckless group once his kid was better.

It had been hours when the sound of a nurse's footsteps acted as the catalyst that would remove Tony from the room so he could head back to his lab. As he reluctantly moved his hand away, there was no reaction. Not even a twitch from the slender child. Bending down, he tentatively stroked a small amount of the exposed skin that was available on the boy’s face before planting a light kiss on his forehead. By the time the nurse was opening the door to the room to complete the routine checks, any sign of a visitor would be long gone.

The moment Tony was back in his workshop, he strode towards his desk. Music started to reverberate from the ceiling, the sound greatly appreciated compared to the low hum and incessant beeping from the emotionless devices that were currently keeping his son alive.

Tony didn’t believe in a higher power other than himself. So in no way, shape or form was he ever going to accept that he couldn’t save Peter from the incurable illness now ravaging his frail body. Feeling powerless was simply not an option.

Rolling up the sleeve to his top, the genius opened a drawer and pulled out a device meant for extracting blood as painlessly as possible. Not that pain meant much to him these days. No pain would ever compete with a parent having to watch their child deteriorate every single second of every single day.

Satisfied with the draw, Tony placed it into a diagnostic machine of his own making. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of his workshop, eyeing it like he was in the most intense staring contest of his life. Jaw clenching, his arm shot out allowing liquid metal to glide across his skin before firing a repulsor at the glass and shattering it. There was an element of irony to everyone loving his face except himself in the minimal but intrusive “what if” moments that surrounded his current situation. With a crack of his neck, his arm remained outstretched so the Endo-Sym armour could return to it’s housing tank.

“Boss, the results are back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed as the music lessened in volume. “No adverse reactions detected still. The chemical composition indicates that the Extremis is unchanged in it’s integration with you on a genetic level and continues to remain stable.”

“And the sample from Peter?” Tony asked, confident that he knew what the answer would be.

“Also remaining stable.”

“Alert the staff intending to see Peter following tonight's shift that their presence will not be needed,” the genius demanded as he mentally reiterated the next steps of his plan in his head. Lips curled into devilishly handsome grin at his victory, eyes crinkling at the sides. The smile only softened when his eyes drifted to a framed picture Peter had drawn of the both of them. He’d done it.

“Certainly, boss,” the AI had responded without any acknowledgement. Tony was too busy in thought. Not only was the Extremis flowing through his own veins, leaving him feeling at perfect health. But soon, it would be doing the same for Peter too. Pain free, peak performance and at complete and optimal health.

“Have there been any sightings of the Avengers in the last hour? I feel a splash of revenge is in order for this special occasion?” The holo-screens in front of him started to flicker as social media sites were searched and hashtags refreshed repeatedly. Hulk had been trending within the hour and Hawkeye in the last eleven minutes.

"Well, how about that?" he grinned gleefully. "I really am being spoiled for choice."

Whilst the genius had been certain F.R.I.D.A.Y. had relayed the message to the morning staff, Tony still found himself exhaling sharply at the sight of someone sat by Peter’s side reading his file. The thin bag of Extremis in his hand was shifted into his back pocket as quickly as humanly possible. The good feeling from beating the shit out of one of the Avengers, plus the buzz of providing Peter with a cure that no meagre doctor had been able to, shifted into a tension as tried to work out who it was.

Their face was narrow with sharp features and glasz eyes remarkably penetrating when they met his perusing stare. His black hair had been combed back neatly, the sides of his temples a distinct light grey. The well fitted suit looked designer even for Tony’s impeccable standards.

“Your services are no longer required,” he affirmed with a dismissive flourish of the hands before the man could even introduce himself.

“I’m sorry?” the other man replied without hesitation, closing the file and rising from the chair. Tony’s chair. If he’d been expecting any pleasantries or introductions, he was thoroughly mistaken. Tony was already locked onto Peter, the gentle rise of his chest a welcoming sight as always. He refused to allow his attention to be divided, ignoring the piercing stare boring into him now. “I have an oath to this patient. He critically needs help from the best in all fields. He needs my help.”

The genius turned at that, an eyebrow raised as he looked the doctor up and down. He certainly held himself strongly for someone who had that much audacity in addressing the owner of everything within his current vicinity.

“Are you new around here… Doctor Strange?” He asked disingenuously, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the name badge. The letters ‘VISITOR - Dr Stephen Strange’ jotted on the bottom, likely the reason he hadn’t got his AI’s memo. The receptionist who let him in would be fired whether it was her fault or not.

“Unlike everyone else in this building, no, I don’t work for you” the doctor shot back tersely. “However, you were so insistent on my consultation that, somehow, I found my diary completely cleared of all surgeries that were booked in.”

“Well, you can now stick them back in your diary. We’re done here.”

“I know this is difficult,” the doctor started, tone suddenly softer as if he were hoping a change of tact would get through. “You brought me in for my expertise, so use them.”

“I’m the most intelligent, capable person on the planet. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your arrogance surpasses all the rumours and expectations I had of you,” Strange snapped back incredulously. Apparently nothing was going to get through. “Your child is-”

“You know, it would be a real shame if you were to lose your medical licence, wouldn't it, doctor?” Tony sneered dangerously low. This ungrateful little shit was going to get it for not only wasting his time and energy, but also his son’s. An insignificant speck like the rest of the world.

“Are you threatening me?” the doctor replied doing his best to keep his tone cool and unflinching when the other man removed all personal space between them. The lack of intimidation he was feeling only pissed Tony off more.

“Let’s not test my resolve, doctor.” Despite feeling completely wrong about leaving considering Peter’s condition, Dr Stephen Strange tucked the file he’d been reading under his arm and left the room in just a few strides. Tony had spotted the hand diving for a phone as the door shut behind him and clenched his fists in disdain.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a darling and ensure Doctor Douchebag doesn’t make it back home,” Tony demanded followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Yes, boss. His phone has also unexpectedly lost all signal so will not be usable anytime soon.”

Satisfied with the course of action his AI had taken, Tony locked the door to his son’s room for good measure. He eyed the current equipment before making his move. One of the drips currently providing Peter with much needed medicine was switched to make way for a sample of the Extremis that Tony had meticulously created and tested on himself. He peered at his son, swallowing thickly that this would all be worth it.

Bag secured, the first few drops started instantly, the older man watching as they flowed along the thin tubes before entering the cannula imposed on Peter’s hand. The skin began to glow orange, the lava looking trail gliding all the way up the arm’s before entering the chest. Daring a glance at the monitors, Tony noted an instant improvement in the readouts. A smile spread across his face as sheet-white, sickly skin started to immediately brighten.

Peter’s big, brown doe eyes suddenly shot open as he took a huge gulp of air, eyes landing on his father who was remarkably in focus for the first time in his life without the aid of glasses. Tony removed the oxygen mask so he could take his son’s face in fully for the first time in well over a month.

“Dad?” the young boy croaked, clearly a little disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he closed the distance between them.

Peter lunged at his father, his small arms wrapping tightly around the genius’ neck and face burying into his chest. It had been far too long since either had been able to enjoy the tender, heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming, unconditional love from one another.

“I love you, kiddo.” Tony gushed as one of his hand’s lovingly cupped the back of Peter's head holding him as close as possible. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When the older man's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer. Tony soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back as new life continued to circle through his son’s body.

“I love you too, dad,” Peter whispered, a strain evident in his voice that Tony hadn’t been expecting. When he leant back, he saw the likely cause. Now unnecessary wires were tugging at his child’s skin.

“Let’s get these off you, bud. You don’t need them anymore,” he promised softly as he carefully went to work at removing the monitoring equipment clips and stickers. Peter’s curious eyes followed every step of the way, surprisingly not wincing even when some of the tougher stickers were peeled away. Although he was too young to even begin comprehending what had happened, he knew from vague memories he’d been hurt and that he’d slept a lot. Often he had been unsure if he was dreaming or awake when he’d hear his father read him stories, express his love and let him know how brave he was being. A slight tug on his hand drew him from his recollection as he looked down.

"I’m scared," Peter timidly admitted as he eyed up the last piece of medical equipment attached to him. The cannula in his hand.

“Here’s what we're gonna do, bud. We’re going to put on our brave faces and before you know it, it’ll be all done and over with. Can you show me your bravest, fiercest face?” Tony gently challenged, as part of his upper lip curled and he playfully growled.

The child’s dinky nose scrunched up and his lips pushed out into the biggest pout he could form. He shook his head a little and hummed in a way that likely felt fierce to him but could only be described as adorable to his dad.

"Wowzer. That was super mean, you nearly scared me!” Tony gasped dramatically, as he gestured for the boy to look down and see that the only thing on the top of his hand was a small cotton wool ball and a light pressure from his dad. Using his free hand to fish into his pocket, Tony revealed a green Paw Patrol sticker with Peter’s favourite character, Rocky, on it.

It had been a distant memory since the young boy had handed it to him, having spotted the numerous nicks and cuts that littered his hard working hands after a long day in the workshop. Extremis meant Peter wouldn’t even need it, but the placebo effect would make it worth it.

“Am I all better, daddy?” Peter asked as Tony eyed him up once more. The overwhelmed father cupped his kid’s face and planted another kiss on his forehead, relief washing over him that he was now free from the concatenation of medical instrumentation.

“You most certainly are. And that means we get to skedaddle out of here.”

Before his son could anticipate his next move, his father had scooped him up into his arms and they were making their way not only out of the room, but off of the floor for good.

They’d had a chance to change into matching casual wear and feasted on a huge breakfast before snuggling up on the sofa. Peter had selected an Octonauts movie to watch as he tucked into his father’s side and enjoyed the sound of his steady heartbeat.

It would be a couple of hours when Tony’s phone pinged with a notification he knew was F.R.I.D.A.Y. when she was being discreet. His son huffed at the movement as he shuffled to get the phone out of his pocket, muttering an apology to his kid before opening the message.

[Unfortunate accident on the Hawk’s Nest, Route 97. Vehicle crossed the barrier and rolled multiple times down the cliff’s edge before landing in the Delaware River. Initial scan from one of the Iron Sight Bot #364 shows one survivor.]

Tony’s smirk widened into a full blown smile. Peter’s heart-of-gold eyes suddenly on him, looking up from his position. It was likely a silent protest at the lack of head strokes he was suddenly receiving so the genius replied swiftly.

[Call off any emergency services and get him med-evaced here.]

“You know what I think we need. Celebratory cheeseburgers for lunch,” he announced as Peter let out a squee of joy.

#writer prompt game #thank you for sending this one in!#ill be working on the next over the weekend! 🐸

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luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Cigarette Burns

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader x Taehyung

☼ Genre: angel!reader, angel!Taehyung, horror, angst, some fluff, smut

☼ Count: 10.6K

☼ Warnings: 18+, death (minor characters), blood, mentions/descriptions of injuries, mentioned mutilation, hallucinations, oral (m receiving), double blowjob, cumplay, cum sharing, deep throating, face fucking, teasing, ball play, dom/sub themes, hair pulling

☼ Summary: Seokjin’s been tasked with finding a film that is thought to be a myth. A legend that caused a theater full of people to turn to violence and then was never seen again. With the mystery that swirls around the film and the increasingly strange things that happens as he hunts for it, is he fully prepared for what waits for him at the end of his journey?

☼ a/n: This is based on my favorite horror movie ever, Cigarette Burns! The story is changed some, but I can’t explain in a way that doesn’t spoil both the film and the fic. I’ve pulled back on some of the gore from the original film too. I hope you enjoy, as I’ve not really written a horror fic before! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Written for @btsholidaybingo to fill the square Blood, Sweat, and Tears

The theater is quiet as Seokjin enters it, understandably so since it’s almost closing and the theater is so small that there’s likely no one at the last showing. One of the downsides of a more indie theater, he supposes. But it had been his dream, keep the older films alive, even if it didn’t necessarily prove to be super lucrative. Which is where his second job came in, that people (Taehyung) would argue should really be his primary job considering how good he is at it.

Seokjin doesn’t want his primary job to be hunting down rare prints. He likes it well enough, sure. It’s thrilling to find a new piece that was thought to be lost to time (and to negotiate into the deal that he’d get to hold a showing of whatever he found too). But it’s really only something to help keep the lights on at the theater. Taehyung also suggests adding newer films to the theater's showings to draw in new crowds and get them interested in the older ones so Seokjin chooses to ignore most of Taehyung’s “helpful” suggestions.

He makes his way to his office, where Taehyung is sprawled out in a chair, perking up once the older man enters.

“What’s the film this time?”

Seokjin chuckles as he sits down at his desk, setting a thin file down. Taehyung might be more invested in Seokjin’s side job than Seokjin is. Maybe he should teach Taehyung how to do it so the younger can take over. He’s inquisitive and bright enough that he’d be good at it. “Hi, how are you, Tae? Oh, me? I’m doing good.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, I saw you this morning. Now what film are you looking for?”

Seokjin eyes him up for a moment. He’s never seen Taehyung so interested; he seems more interested than usual and he doesn’t even know what the film is yet. He’s not sure if he’s interested in the film or hearing about the process Seokjin goes through to find them. Seokjin’s good at his job, good at finding the relics of an era where everything couldn’t be easily backed up. And while he makes sure to get a favorable deal and be able to show what he worked so hard to find, Seokjin maybe also makes duplicates for the sake of preserving the content of the old films. Taehyung always seems delighted to go through the unofficial prints that Seokjin keeps stored in the theater (or at his house because multiple copies is always best when it comes to preservation).

“I don’t know if I’ll find this one. It’s pretty legendary and notably thought to be either fake or destroyed.”

Taehyung leans forward, eyes wide with barely contained interest. “What is it?”

“La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

There’s a flicker of something in Taehyung’s eyes that Seokjin can’t decipher and it’s gone too fast for him to even try. “Isn’t that that film that only ever had one showing and everyone at the showing killed each other or themselves?”

Seokjin nods, pulling a yellowed newspaper clipping from the folder he brought. It’s all in French but there’s a translation written in the blank space of the paper the clipping is attached to. It details the bloodbath that the theater turned into before the film even finished and how the only print of the film was destroyed right after.

Taehyung looks up at Seokjin, expression unreadable. “Do you think it still exists?”

Seokjin shrugs. “The guy, Bellinger, seemed very positive that it does. Said he would know if the film had been destroyed. I didn’t ask how because that seemed like a path I didn’t really want to go down. He was weirdly obsessed with the props he had from it. But he gave me the information he had and said that if I couldn’t track it down within a month that he would admit that it was gone. But he paid half up front for the whole month. Double my rate too. He seems to really want this found and to honestly believe that it’s still out there.”

Taehyung nods stiffly before he’s flashing Seokjin his usual boxy grin. “I’m sure you’ll find it. You are the best after all.”

Seokjin snorts. He wonders if he should question Taehyung’s sudden shift at the mention of the film. It’s not like him to be so serious about a film. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but thanks.”

“Do you have any leads?”

“Not really.” He flips open the folder and shows that besides the article clipping is just a printout of the poster from the film’s only showing and another printed page with a film review on it. He taps the review. “This was written by a critic who was at the showing. As far as I can tell, he’s still alive. But he seems to have become incredibly reclusive in the decades since the showing. I’m going to ask around and see if I can track him down.”

Taehyung stands and drums his fingers on the desk. “Well good luck. Keep me updated as always.” He turns to go, pausing in the doorway. “Seokjin… whatever you do, don’t watch the film.”

And then he leaves, leaving Seokjin confused because it seems like Taehyung believes the film still exists and that somehow something bad will happen if Seokjin were to watch it. Maybe he just believes the stories around it and thinks that the crazy stuff that happened was due to the film and not something more easily explained like the crowd being poisoned or something much more logical than the movie made them do it. He shakes his head, it’s probably just a friendly warning out of worry. Turning to his computer, he starts digging into the sole survivor of the film’s only showing.

It takes some time, hours of staring at the screen, to find anything substantial on the critic. It’s nearly morning, gray light filtering through the slates in his closed blinds, but he finally finds where the critic has most likely holed up. For what reason, no one seems to really know, just that he disappeared after his review and hasn’t really been seen since. But it’s as good a place to start as any. Seokjin saves the address onto his phone and leaves the theater, stopping at his apartment for a moment to shower, change, and pack a quick bag before he’s grabbing some coffee and heading to the airport.

Upstate New York is far more woodsy than Seokjin had expected. Although he supposes when he’s only imagined New York City when thinking of New York, that’s an easy mistake to make. The foliage makes navigating to the critic’s house in his rental car a little difficult since it’s seclusion means that the road to the house is nearly completely overgrown. He wonders how the guy gets food if the path there looks as if no one’s been on it in months. The house itself is simple, but appears abandoned given the lack of care to the outside and the way all the rooms that Seokjin can see into are darkened. Still, Seokjin isn’t one to be deterred, the porch looks nice enough, he can always just wait a while if there happens to be no one home before maybe finding an open window or door to check out the house. But first he approaches and knocks on the front door. He gets no immediate response but when he steps back to look in the windows on the far side of the door, he’s able to pick up the sound of a typewriter.

Well someone’s definitely home. He moves back to the door, knocking again.

“Mr. Meyers?” He calls out, the typing stops and he gets an answering ‘go away.’

“I just need to speak to you for a moment.” There’s a resounding ‘no’ in response and the typing starts up again. “Please, it’ll be quick. I wanted to ask you about your review for La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

The typing stops again and then there’s a loud buzz and the door swings open an inch. Eerie, but Seokjin pushes the door open and steps inside. The house is dark, blanketed in shadows caused by the only light that streams in through the cracked curtains. There’s a stale quality to the air, like the house has been closed up for months and there’s a gray cloud of smoke that clings to the ceiling, swirling with the sudden air flow. As Seokjin looks around, he sees that there are stacks and stacks of paper piled everywhere that there is space, leaving just a narrow pathway from the entrance to the living room. He rounds the corner into the living room and there’s even more stacks here, piled high around the critic as he sits hunched over his typewriter, typing away once more.

“Were there press notes?” He asks, glancing over one of the nearby stacks, skimming the top page. It talks about the film. He gets a curt ‘yes’ in response to his question. “Did you save them? Could I read them?”

“Dangerous.” Seokjin frowns at Meyers’ statement. They’re just notes, how could they possibly be dangerous. “The back said ‘Film in the right hands is a weapon.’ He was right and we didn’t even know it.” There’s a heavy silence before he continues. “We trust film makers when we go and watch films. We sit there, in the dark, and trust in what they’re going to show us. That it’ll affect us but we trust that they won’t go too far.”

Seokjin waits but Meyers doesn’t seem inclined to continue now, though his words haven’t been particularly helpful anyway. He’s not even particularly sure what he’s talking about. It’s almost like Meyers has used up all his words on the pages taking over his home or that he’s forgotten how to hold a conversation. Has he been here since the film release? If so, he’s been out here alone for decades.

Seokjin decides to try directing the conversation back to the film. “I’ve read your review. A few times on the plane. And I still have no idea what the film is even about.”

“Hans Backovic was a monster. He took that trust and abused it. He didn’t want to just hurt us, he wanted to absolutely destroy us.”

Seokjin feels like they’re having two different conversations. He’s not even sure that Meyers heard what he said. Backovic was a director, how could he possibly have destroyed an entire audience? “I’ve seen extreme gore before. It didn’t drive me to violence. Why is this film so dangerous? Surely all that violence in the theater was exaggerated?”

Meyers leans back in his chair and he looks older, exhausted. His eyes seem slightly unfocused. “Oh no, not at all. If anything, it was downplayed.” He pauses and takes a slow breath. He’s staring at his desk but the look in his eyes says he’s somewhere far away, reliving something he doesn’t want to be reliving. “I watched four people die. Blood slicked every inch of that theater floor. The chairs, the walls, the screen. It reeked of death.”

There’s a charged pause and then Meyers leans forward again, looking at Seokjin and Seokjin feels unsettled, that faraway look is gone, instead replaced by a wild almost manic look. “Backovic knew what he was doing. He told me exactly what would happen when that film played.” He chuckles and it’s completely humorless. “I thought he was joking.”

Seokjin moves closer, suddenly interested. Meyers had spoken to Backovic? About the film specifically? Finally, a possible lead, something to have made this trip worth it. “You spoke to him?”

“Yes. Before the film. I recorded an interview with him.”

“Do you still have that tape? Can I listen to it?”

“No one’s ready for that film. They weren’t then and they aren’t now. I failed in my one job as messenger for the film. That review was a joke. But everyone will know, once I finish my new review. They’ll see what the film is really about.” He seems to be almost talking to himself as he pulls the sheet of paper he’d been typing out of the typewriter and adds it to the pile beside him. He slips a blank sheet into the typewriter.

Seokjin glances around in alarm, gesturing to the stacks of paper. “Is that what all this is? Your new review?”

He lets out a slightly maniacal laugh. “I’m almost done!”

Seokjin swallows. There’s easily a million typed pages here. And it’s all about the film? Unease fills Seokjin as he casts his gaze over the stacks again. What happened in that theater that could drive someone to spend decades typing this much? And to call it a review? He doesn’t want to ask more about the review and what could possibly be compelling this man. “Well, there’s a chance that there’s still a print out there. I’ve been paid to find it.”

Meyers stares at him for a long moment and Seokjin shifts in discomfort. There’s so much mystery around this film and this talk with Meyers has only increased that. Then he laughs again and stands. Seokjin thinks maybe he should leave, for a split second he fears that Meyers has been so hard to find because he’s killed anyone who’s come to find him before. “You should know what you’re in for.” He says cryptically before moving to a trunk nearby. He rifles through it for a moment before pulling out a tape.

He presses it into Seokjin’s hands, but when Seokjin goes to pull away, Meyers’ hands tighten around his, keeping him in place. “Promise me. Promise when you find it that you’ll let me see it again. I’ve dreamt about that film every night since I’ve seen it. This film it… it crawls inside you. It just doesn’t leave.”

He releases Seokjin’s hands and goes back to his desk, staring at the typewriter for a long moment before he starts typing. It’s as clear a dismissal as anything and at this point, Seokjin is more than happy to leave Meyers to his stacks of papers.

Paris is the next stop for Seokjin. He has a friend, Henri, who works at one of the bigger film archives in the city and he might have leads for him. But first he needs a moment to himself, so he spends his first night in the hotel. Where he figures he might as well listen to the interview while he’s got some time. It could give him some help in where to look when he goes to see Henri tomorrow.

The interview seems normal enough. Backovic talks like most of the more pretentious indie filmmakers. Those who believe that their art is superior and above so much else of what’s out there, especially what comes out of Hollywood. Seokjin vows to never tell Taehyung about the interview because he’ll only use it as fodder to mock him and how he has the same ideas with his theater. Which is not true. Seokjin shows plenty of films aside from indies. They’re just usually classics, films from the 70s and 80s, cult classics that don’t really show in theaters that much. Things that draw specific crowds but aren’t always popular with most but the theater does just fine with how it is now. He sees no reason to change.

Halfway through listening to the interview, a searing pain flairs in Seokjin’s head and he jerks the headphones off as he tries to blink the orange ring from his vision.

His heart is pounding for the start and he sees the flash of something out of the corner of his eye. He stumbles off the bed to move towards the bathroom where he saw the shadow. The room is empty, which should be unsurprising since Seokjin is alone in his hotel room, though now he can’t remember if he had left the light on or not.

But it seemed so real, like there really was someone else here. He glances at the mirror and for a brief second, he swears that he sees Taehyung. He rubs at his eyes, heels digging in almost painfully. He blinks the spots from his vision and stares at the mirror a little longer, like if he stares at it enough, something will happen. Like Taehyung might appear on the surface again and prove that Seokjin is not losing his mind right now. But when nothing happens, he finally, reluctantly, moves back to the main room, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands shake as he picks up his phone to send a quick message to Taehyung.

He gets a response within a few minutes and it makes discomfort settle in him when Taehyung confirms that he’s at the theater right now working. He even makes a joke how he’s sure people come to see the old films on the days that he hangs around not for the films but to see Taehyung’s face. He knows Taehyung’s just trying to draw a response from him, to tease and coax him into some flirtatious banter. But Seokjin’s suddenly much too exhausted for that. He lays down without responding, but it takes him a long time to fall asleep and even when he does, it’s restless and plagued by dreams that leave him the second he wakes. But while the images fade with the growing light, the sound remains; the chilling screams that sound so much like Taehyung that Seokjin almost calls him just to confirm that he’s okay.

In the morning, he makes his way to the archives to speak with Henri, who apologizes that he can’t be of too much help since they’re in the process of moving, but he says he can help direct Seokjin in the right direction if he tells him what movie he’s looking for. Seokjin is a little reluctant after the meeting with the critic. He waves off the help, telling Henri that he’ll just look around on his own to not get in his way. Henri insists, saying that the move will make it harder for Seokjin to look.

When Seokjin mentions the film, Herni’s entire demeanor shifts, the friendly man suddenly cold as he tries to warn Seokjin away. When Seokjin won’t, Henri tells him he’s welcome to use his assistant’s office, though there’s not much on the film and that the film is certainly not there. He leaves him with an ominous warning about having to earn this film, hand tucked firmly in his pocket.

Seokjin pours over what little information there is. The most promising thing he gets is the crew list for the film, something that Seokjin didn’t see listed anywhere online and it really only lended to the idea that this film wasn’t real. But now he has some physical evidence that people worked on this, that they saw the film unfold in person. His joy at the discovery is short-lived though when he realizes that this is proving less and less useful with each name he has to cross off because they’re dead. Of the eleven crew members, all but two are dead. He goes out to find Henri, showing him the paper.

“How easy is it to find either of them?”

Henri looks at the list and nods, almost like he knew this was coming. Seokjin wonders how many people he’s seen come through here looking for the movie. “Patton was blinded after filming. And he won’t speak on the film. He nearly killed the last person to ask him about it.”

Seokjin gestures to the other name. “And Backovic? Surely he’d have some idea where his film ended up.”

Henri scoffs. “Backovic is dead.”

“How do you know that? There’s no death certificates or records or anything.”

Henri shoots him a look. “Trust me, Seokjin. Backovic is dead.” When Seokjin goes to speak again, Henri interrupts. “I’m sorry but I have nothing else to tell you.”

Seokjin knows that Henri’s not telling him something. Years of working together and he’s learned a thing or two about his friend and his tells. He doesn’t know what, but there’s something he knows that Seokjin knows he’ll need to be able to find this stupid film. He stops just outside the door, hidden from sight and he hears Henri make a phone call. He doesn’t know much French, but he knows that he mentions the film. Seokjin leaves quickly, making plans to come back later and force Henri to tell him what he knows.

Henri seems startled when Seokjin appears again a few hours later. He really should’ve expected it. Seokjin’s never been one to give up so easily and they both know that.

“I know you’re lying. You know more than you’re telling me.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand anything that’s happening. There’s so much mystery around this film, how can I possibly know anything. Fuck, last night I saw…” Seokjin trails off, he doesn’t know how to explain last night. Maybe it was just jet lag and exhaustion and the unknown of this film that caused the hallucinations. Or maybe he dreamed the whole thing.

Henri straightens, eyes wide with alarm. He moves closer to Seokjin. “A circle? Like the reel change in a movie?” At Seokjin’s nod, Henri pales. “Then it’s too late. You’ve already started a process which cannot be stopped. It’s only going to get worse. I’m so sorry.”

“What started? I don’t understand.”

“When you look for the film, it does something to you. You see those burns. It’s payment for every step closer you make to the film. You need to stop now. Before it’s really too late. You don’t want to continue on this path, Seokjin. You have to ignore the curiosity. The itch to dig a little deeper, find out a little more. Walk away. I know it’s hard. But you have to.”

“You know?”

Henri nods and pulls his hand from his pocket where he always keeps it tucked, revealing severe burns, so bad that his fingers have fused together. Seokjin takes a small step back in surprise.

“But… How?”

“I was the projectionist at a private screening of the film. I was curious about it too. Much like you. Much like everyone who eventually comes searching for the film that’s only been shown once, twice now. But most don’t know that. It was kept from the public and the film disappeared again.”

Henri pauses and takes a deep breath. “I chickened out. I got scared once it started and I looked away.” He closes his eyes. “When the screaming started, I tried to stop the projector but it wouldn’t stop. So I grabbed the film reel. I saw that some circle you did and I… I blacked out. When I came to, my hand was burned and the film was over.”

Seokjin swallows. This film is starting to seem more and more like a bad idea. Taehyung’s warning flits through his mind as well, telling him not to watch the film. Maybe he should’ve told him to just give up the job. Not that Seokjin would’ve listened. Maybe he should’ve charged more to find this. “I won’t watch it. I’ll just take it and give it to the collector. But… I could really use the money for the theater. I can’t just give up looking.”

Henri’s gaze darts over Seokjin’s face and then he gives a small nod. There’s a sadness in his eyes as he picks up a small piece of paper. “I wouldn’t call this man if I were you. He has an… extensive collection but he’s dangerous.” He hands the number over to Seokjin.

“Does he have it?”

Henri shakes his head. “No. But he’s been given things from the Backovic estate. He can possibly get you in contact with them.”

“Thank you.”

Henri shakes his head again. “Don’t thank me for sending a friend into danger.”

Seokjin takes a taxi to the address given to him when he calls the number that Henri gave him. The warehouse is run down looking and at a dead end about halfway up a big hill. The only other buildings are some houses further up the hill from the road and the town he can see over the road barricade looking down. He pays the taxi driver extra and tells her to stay then makes his way towards the two burly men who have appeared at the massive open doors to the warehouse.

The warehouse is shadowy, lighting sparse and everything appears to be covered by a layer of dust with the exception of a few items in the room that they lead him to.The room is large and another man stands almost in the middle of the room, he’s wearing all dark leather and has his back towards Seokjin. He stands just behind a wooden crate that’s been set on a chair. It has a printed label that reads ‘La Fin Absolue du Monde.’

“It’s not for me.” Seokjin begins. Might as well start with that. Maybe it’ll make it easier for him to get the film.

“But you’re curious.”

“I suppose a little. Have you seen it?”

“No. But I would. Who wouldn’t?” The man walks a few steps away to a camera and begins to fiddle with the settings. “I admire a man like Backovic. So unafraid to be real. I detest the fakeness of Hollywood. I want to be great like Backovic. Groundbreaking. Real.”

Seokjin moves to the crate, opening it up. He’d idly hoped that maybe it was the film and he could take it to Bellinger and be done with this. But the crate is only about half full, mostly with filler to keep a film reel cushioned during transport. Other than that, there’s a few different manila envelopes.

The first envelope has a return address to Katja Backovic. If Seokjin’s remembering correctly, that’s Backovic’s wife and according to Henri, is actually his widow. That’s certainly a good lead. There’s not a lot of information out there about her in recent years either. He sets it down and picks up another, it’s blank on the outside and so he slips the pictures out that are contained within.

The first is of a winged figure, one that appears to be a woman, her face turned away from the camera and surrounded by other people. Her wings look beautiful even through an image, glossy black and full. The next is a silhouette of a figure holding a knife and it looks like they’re in front of a window or some other light source.

As he shuffles through the photos, they become increasingly bizarre. A photo of someone on a neighborhood street and the sky is red but looks off, like someone has overlaid another image over the sky. He thinks they’re set photos. The last one shows two winged figures, both facing away from the camera and chained to the wall. Their heads are bowed towards each other. One seems to be the woman from the first still and the other seems to be a man, but there’s a table or something that blocks Seokjin from seeing much more than his wings and back of his head.

Seokjin is suddenly grabbed from behind, the photos falling from his hands to scatter on the floor as the two men drag him a few feet backwards. The other man, the one who he’d been speaking with has a syringe now. Seokjin’s blood runs cold.

“Oh, you can’t leave already. We have so much left to discuss.”

Seokjin squirms, trying to fight the men off, but their hold on him is firm and in a matter of seconds, the needle is in his neck and consciousness is leaving him.

Seokjin comes to some time later, he has no idea how long but there’s light filtering through the window so it’s either not been that long or he’s been out for a whole day. He’s tied to a chair and duct tape firm across his mouth. He feels foggy and when he looks around, he sees the two burly men are now operating the camera. There’s a woman tied to another chair in front of him and the man from before is now shirtless and holding a machete. Seokjin feels like he’s going to be sick.

He fights against his bonds, but he’s helpless to stop as the man approaches the woman and, with no preamble, embeds the machete in her neck with one strong thwack. He pulls it free and pushes her head so blood sprays his bare chest, head tilting back like he’s being hosed down on a hot day.

Seokjin screams, though it's muffled and continues to fight against his bonds as the man pulls the machete out and makes quick work of getting through her neck. Her head is dropped to the ground and then the man approaches him and Seokjin tries to push himself away. He talks about how he turned her into art, about the realness of what he’s created, but the words barely register to Seokjin in his panicked state. Maybe he should’ve told the taxi driver to call the authorities if he took too long.

The man leans closer. “Something happens when you point the camera at something terrible. The resulting film takes on power.” He grins and rips the tape off of Seokjin’s mouth.

“Snuff is not power! It’s just fucked up! It’s murder.”

The man laughs and straddles Seokjin’s lap and Seokjin feels his heart in his throat as his stomach turns in revulsion. He can feel the blood soaking through his jeans where the man sits.

“You’re not listening to me. You came all this way but you won’t listen. You want to know why the film destroyed its audience?” His hand squishes Seokjin’s cheeks and Seokjin tries not to think about how slick they feel against his skin. “Backovic was an exceptional editor. He understood the value of a cut. But there was more to it. They say the movie works subliminally while you watch it. But the thing that made the film a weapon?” His grin is deranged. “Blood. Spilled blood. What if you got hold of an angel? A divine being with the blood of God flowing through its veins. And what if you sacrificed it on camera?”

Seokjin gets a flash of the circle again, the sharp sting as his vision is suddenly obscured. He sees a flash of a woman, chained to the ground, shuddering and emaciated, a pair of glossy, black wings mounted on the wall behind her. His breath shudders through him as the man bleeds back into focus.

“Something that profound, that personal. It changes everyone who was a part of putting it on film. And everyone who sees it. The closer you get to the film, the more you’ll be changed too. That’s Backovic’s secret. ‘Film is magic,’ he said. And he was right.”

Seokjin sees another flash. A split second of a circle with Taehyung in the middle of it, face full of anguish.

“What do you see? What haunts you? Will they be waiting for you on the other side?”

Seokjin’s vision goes white.

When he comes to again, he’s standing, completely free of his bonds and machete in hand. He drops it immediately, it looks bloodier than it had before. He catches sight of the man laying on the ground not too far from him but he tries not to look at it. Vaguely grateful for the fact that the man has fallen half behind a crate. The camera’s been knocked over as well. The two burly and the woman’s body are gone. He doesn’t want to know what happened. He has a gut feeling and it’s not one that he particularly wants to think too hard on. He’d really just like to forget that this entire warehouse ever existed.

The box is beside him now and he digs through it quickly, finding the envelope with Katja’s address in Vancouver on it and runs, taking the road back to the main street on foot. When he gets to the main road, it’s getting dark and he takes a cab. Shakily handing the driver a few extra bills in the hopes that they won’t ask any questions about his state.

He takes a scalding shower once back at his hotel, scrubs himself raw but he can still feel like blood, no matter how hard and long he scrubs for. He stuffs the bloody clothes into a paper bag and gets dressed. He hastily packs the rest of his things and goes down to check out. He shoves the bag with the bloody clothes into a trash can on the street before getting into a taxi and heading to the airport. He’s ready to be fucking done with this. He’s ready to be away from this city.

Taehyung texts him while he’s on the flight. Asking how the search is going. He’s too exhausted to even think and so he leaves Taehyung unanswered.

He takes another shower once he lands in Vancouver, but he still feels dirty. He stares at himself in the mirror and tries to make it look like he’s not on the verge of a breakdown and leaves his room to Katja’s address.

Seokjin presses the button beside her name on the building.

“Yes?” Her voice is softer than he expected, though he’s not really sure what he was expecting.

“Mrs. Backovic? Can I speak to you for a minute? I’ve come a long way.”

He’s answered by the door buzzing open and he moves quickly through the lobby to the elevator. Seokjin presses the button for the penthouse, scrubbing his hand over his face once the elevator starts moving. Maybe he should make this his last film job. It’s far more than he expected it to be and he’s just so tired. There’s a jolt and then the elevator stops and the lights go out.

He feels a body press to his back and he tenses. It’s not real, he thinks, eyes squeezing shut. Just like everything else.

“Save her. Please.” When Seokjin turns and thrusts his hand out, he’s met only with air. The voice had been hauntingly familiar. It sounded like Taehyung. It’s not real, he repeats to himself. Taehyung is back home. Probably asleep right now. He can’t be here. It’s completely illogical.

The elevator dings and Seokjin opens his eyes to see the doors sliding open to reveal he’s at the top floor. He’d been moving the whole time. Seokjin blinks a few times. He needs to get this film and hand it off. Now. He walks towards the living room, revealing a woman standing there. Katja.

“Something happened in the elevator.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Sure. Something like that.”

“You must want this very bad to have some so far. I must admit, you’re the first to ever make it here.”

“I have… so many questions.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch her eyes. “I’m not sure I have your answers. But we’ll see.”

She leads him a little further into the room, taking a seat in an armchair and gesturing for him to take a seat on the adjoining sofa.

They sit in silence for a while, Seokjin taking a moment to think and gather his thoughts before finally speaking. “Do you have a copy of the film?”

She smiles that half smile again. “That’s not what you’re really curious about. You want to know if the stories are true.” Seokjin nods, though both are true. “They are. Unfortunately. Why are you looking for the film?”

“I was paid to.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s not the real reason.”

Seokjin chews his lip. “I… I don’t know anymore. There’s… I just have to find it.” He doesn’t understand. He’s walked away from lesser jobs. He has no idea what keeps compelling him to push here, what’s making him want to find this so badly.

Her head tilts like she didn’t expect his answer. She observes him quietly before nodding to herself, like Seokjin just took some big test and she’s pleased with how he did.

Silence settles again before Seokjin asks a question he’s had since he saw the crew list. “Who produced this film?”

Katja’s eyebrows raise. “You’re quite direct.”

Seokjin just gives a small shrug. “I just want someone to say it.”

Sadness softens her features as she looks down. “I asked Hans the same question. Many times. The producers of this film produce many other things. Chaos, sorrow, suffering, famine.”

Seokjin’s brows furrow. “What does that mean? The devil? Demons?”

Katja gives another sad smile. “Hans never put a name on it. ‘Evil is evil,’ he would say, ‘does a name really matter?’” They stare at each other, the real implication of her words settling between them, and then she stands. “Come with me.”

She leads him to a film editing studio. It’s a little dated, but the equipment is well taken care of. Reels still set up and ready for editing. Like any second Hans might walk in to begin working. Seokjin glances at her.

“How did he die? There’s no official records or anything about it.”

She glances away and Seokjin regrets asking only a little bit. This film has done so much damage, he has to know how the creator met his end. “He became… obsessed with La Fin Absolue du Monde. During the last year of his life, all he did was watch it. Over and over again. Like it was a punishment for what he had done. He got too close to the fire. The film worked the way it was meant. He became paranoid, skittish. It got to him.”

Tears gather in her eyes as she continues. “He grabbed a knife on the way to find me in the bedroom. Only when he slit my throat,” she pulls her scarf down to show a scar running across her throat, “he just disfigured me. When he did it to himself, he died.” She laughs bitterly. “I don’t know who got the better end of that. I was left to watch over the film. I hate that film. I hate everything that it caused. I hate that it was always going to be too late to make it better.”

Seokjin swallows. That’s a lot to take in. It still doesn’t really answer why there’s no record, though he supposes that given enough infamy and money, keeping a death quiet is easy enough.

“Can… I have the film?

She stares at him for a long moment then moves over to a rack of reels. She goes to touch it but her hand stops shy of making contact. “I put it here. I hate even having it in the house.”

Seokjin moves over when she steps back, fingers brushing the shelf just below where the film sits. He honestly can’t believe that he’s here. That he actually found it. What’s more baffling is that it seems that no one ever thought to check with Backovic’s wife for the location of the film. The easiest place to hide, in the most obvious place. “Ever since I’ve been tracking this, I’ve been seeing flashes. Circles with images inside.”

“The cigarette burns?” Katja’s eyes fill with pity at his nod. “When did they start?”

“I heard this interview, with Hans, from the night of the premiere-”

“You were marked. That’s how potent the film is. You don’t even have to watch it to be affected by it. As soon as you start getting close to it, it’s got you. Slowly, like sinking into quicksand.” She gives him a last sad smile, like she already knows what the future holds for him. “Take the film. It’s already too late.”

Seokjin takes the films from the shelf. He feels strange, something not quite sitting right with him. He’s not sure if it’s her cryptic answers or the way the films feel heavier that film reels should. But he leaves, flies back home because his current employer happens to live within driving distance of his apartment. He takes them as soon as he makes it back to his apartment. He wants them gone as soon as possible.

He leaves the reels in the trunk of his car because they make his skin crawl to have them on the seat beside him. He doesn’t want to touch them anymore than he has too.

When Seokjin arrives at Bellinger’s house, the man in question and his butler are both waiting on the steps. Seokjin pops the trunk open and Bellinger is quick to rub his hands across the cases, a pleased hum leaving him. Then he’s pulling them out and handing him to his butler with the instruction to go set up the projector.

Bellinger turns back to Seokjin. “I never showed you how I knew that this film still existed. Would you like to see before you leave?”

Seokjin shifts. He doesn’t really want to. He wants to go home, forget that he ever looked for this film. Go back to his normal life, taking care of his theater and spending time with Taehyung. But it seems rude and so he nods. Bellinger leads him into the house and down a short hallway. When he opens a door, Seokjin feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs with what he sees.

It’s the woman from the circles. Chained to the floor and wings mounted on the wall. Bellinger enters the room and she immediately cowers, giving Seokjin a view of her back and where two long, red cuts sit. Right about where wings would attach. They look fresher than decades old wounds should look. Because Seokjin knows she must be the one from the stills. One of the angels in Backovic’s film. The man from the warehouse’s words comes back to him as he’s staring at her. Divine blood spilled on camera. Seokjin’s chest aches.

Bellinger runs a hand across her head and she curls more into herself. “I happened to be lucky enough to acquire a few props from the film.”

Seokjin’s stomach turns at a being, an angel, being referred to as nothing more than a prop. “Can I have the rest of my payment?”

“Ah! Of course!” Bellinger reaches into his pocket and hands Seokjin an envelope.

Seokjin doesn’t even care if it’s the right amount. He needs to get out of here. He wants to claw his skin off the longer he stays. He turns and leaves, missing the look the angel sends him.

Seokjin rests his forehead against the steering wheel once he’s in the car. He allows himself a few deep breaths before finally pulling away from the house. He needs to just not think about this for a few hours. And then he can figure out what he should do with the new weight of information that’s been bestowed upon him. He taps the console, dialing Taehyung.

“Hey! You’ve been pretty quiet lately, you good?” He answers cheerily.

“Better now.”

“Oh?” Taehyung sounds excited. “What happened?”

“I found it. Fuck, I can’t… I can’t even explain anything properly. But… fuck, Tae, I really found it. I found La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

“Where is it now?”

Seokjin frowns. That’s a weird question. Taehyung knows pretty well how this works, plus Seokjin left Bellinger’s information in his office in case he needed Taehyung to get in contact with him should something go wrong. “Tae, what-” He cuts off when his call waiting pops up, revealing that Bellinger is calling him. “Sorry Tae, that’s the other line. I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

“Seokjin no! Wait! Whatever you do, don’t watch-” Seokjin cuts him off as he switches to Bellinger’s call.

Bellinger starts babbling, it sounds like he was babbling before Seokjin even answered the call. It’s hard for Seokjin to follow most of what he’s saying. Eventually he gathers enough that Bellinger needs him to come back. Had he grabbed the wrong film? Had Katja switched them on purpose? Or lied about it still existing? That seems unlikely, but he supposes he’ll find out when he gets back to Bellinger’s mansion. He turns the car around the first chance he gets.

Bellinger’s house is quiet when he enters after he receives no answer to his knocking. But he makes it only a few feet past the foyer when the butler staggers out from a room, covered in cuts and knife still in hand. He points a finger at Seokjin.

“This is all your fault. You brought this evil here!”

And Seokjin can only watch with a horrified expression as the butler stabs the knife into one eye and then the other. Panic wells in his chest and Seokjin moves quickly through the house, finding the small theater room with ease after heading the direction that the butler had come from. There’s no one in the seats, but he sees movement in the projection booth so he heads back there.

Bellinger stands on the other side of the room, next to an empty projector. He murmurs something, though Seokjin’s unsure if he meant it for him or if he is just talking to himself. He lifts a straight razor, setting it on top of the projector like it’s a normal thing to do. He’s sweaty and winces every so often as his arm moves behind the projector. Seokjin wants to help, but he has a feeling he might be a little too late for that. And he’d prefer to not get closer and see just what Bellinger did with that straight razor.

“I’ve done some terrible things,” he gasps out. “You have to to become this rich.”

Seokjin sees a flash of the angel and realization washes over him. “You watched La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

Bellinger jerks forward, wincing at the sudden movement, but there's a wild look in his eye. He seems unphased by the jarring motion that caused him further harm, too engrossed in the need to tell Seokjin about the movie. “Yeah… I recommend it.” He shakes his head and groans. “It’s not a movie though. Just a preview. The coming attractions of the soul.”

“You said you needed help.”

“I was going to ask you to find another movie for me. But… I don’t need it anymore. I have been… inspired.” There’s a disconcerting squelch and then Bellinger flicks the projector on and a second later something red and gooey slides through the projector like a film reel. It takes Seokjin only a second to realize what it is and he covers his mouth in horror and backs out of the room as he retches. Bellinger’s wheezed laughter follows him out as he sits heavily in one of the theater chairs. He just needs a minute to collect himself. He’s never been faced with so much blood and death in person. Movies sure, but those are fake. Actors with makeup and corn syrup. People who get up and walk away after the scene is done. Not this.

He buries his face in his hands. He has no idea how long he sits there, but when he looks up, he’s horrified to realize that the film restarted. He has no idea if it was Bellinger doing it and that’s why he called him here, compelled by the film to get someone else to watch or if there’s some other force at play that started it. Taehyung’s warnings float through his mind.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t watch this. He doesn’t want to, he wants to leave and never come back. Maybe never watch a movie again. But then there’s a scream and something makes him open his eyes. And there, projected on the screen, is Taehyung. Strapped belly down on a table as a masked man laughs and hacks at the base of Taehyung’s wings. Screen Taehyung lets out another anguished scream and Seokjin forces his eyes closed again.

He’s not going to watch. He won’t. There’s a need to do something in his chest but he can’t figure out what it is. A woman screams on screen and with a sudden, bright clarity, Seokjin knows what it is that he needs to do. He scrambles out of his seat, blindly feeling his way out of the room as best he can. Once in the relative safety of the hallway, he heads immediately towards the angel. She’s staring directly at the door when he enters, like she was expecting him. And Seokjin would be disconcerted if he hadn’t just seen his best friend and the guy who he’s maybe interested in getting his literal, actual wings cut off. Seokjin thinks that nothing could ever phase him again after this. He moves to the desk on the far wall, tearing through the drawers until he finds the shackle keys.

He approaches slowly, getting to his knees and crawling the last few feet to her. He reaches out just as slowly, but she doesn’t move an inch. He’d think she was a statue if he hadn’t seen her moving before. He undoes each of the cuffs then slides himself back to give her space.

She doesn’t move at first and when she does, it’s to look back to the door, a small smile gracing her lips. “Taehyung,” she sighs.

Seokjin jerks, turning to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, shirtless with the film reels tucked under one arm. He quickly approaches the woman, completely ignoring Seokjin’s presence. The lack of attention gives Seokjin the opportunity to see Taehyung’s back and see that the same two marks that marr her back also marr his.

The two press their foreheads together and stay like that for a long while. Seokjin begins to feel like an intruder and so he tries to quietly stand and slip out. But he only makes it to standing before Taehyung is turning towards him.

Seokjin…” His eyes are watery. “Thank you.”

Seokjin gives a jerky nod and quickly leaves. He doesn’t know what he’d say to Taehyung. He just found out that he’s actually an angel. What do you even say to that? Sorry some asshole film director mutilated you on film and someone else captured your angel… friend? Partner? Seokjin doesn’t want to think about it. They seem to know what they need now that they’re in possession of the films. He’s not needed anymore.

Seokjin tries to get back to normal life. He really does, though Taehyung’s disappearance leaves a bigger hole in his life than he would’ve thought. It’s a little heartbreaking too. He’d been seriously considering seeing if the younger would be interested in something more.

Plus he’s now lost some of the help he had at the theater. He hires someone else, a sweet kid named Jungkook and he lets him help find more current or interesting films to show alongside some older and more indie films and business steadily picks up. Yoongi questions his sudden change of heart on the films he shows and Seokjin staunchly refuses to admit that he did it in honor of Taehyung who always nagged him to get newer films in. He spends more time with other friends and tries not to think about how much he misses Taehyung.

That is, until he’s home one night and there’s a knock on his balcony door. Which is baffling because Seokjin lives on the 25th floor and it’s a fucking balcony. Cautiously, he slides open the door, jaw dropping when he sees Taehyung and you, looking full and happy and with pretty black wings folded neatly behind you both. Seokjin rubs at his eyes. There’s no way. He’s got to be dreaming.

Taehyung moves in to give Seokjin a hug but Seokjin takes a quick step back. Taehyung’s face falls slightly and you reach out to rub his arm comfortingly.

You give Seokjin a soft smile. “We wanted to come thank you.”

Seokjin flushes. “It was nothing.”

You shake your head. “No you don’t understand. It was everything. Taehyung and I were bound to that film. As long as it existed, we were trapped and broken. But you saved us.”

“Seokjin…” Taehyung’s voice sounds so small and Seokjin aches to hold him.

But he can’t. Not yet. He has to know. It’s been festering in his mind ever since Taehyung disappeared. “Did you befriend me just so I’d find your film?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he’s quick to shake his head. “No! I was your friend because I wanted to be! I was trapped here. It was so lonely without Y/n. But I found you and… I don’t know. Something just drew me to you.” Taehyung ducks his head in shame. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what I was. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy and stop being my friend.”

Seokjin’s heart breaks and before Taehyung can utter another word, Seokjin is crushing him in a hug. Taehyung lets out a watery laugh and they stay like that for a long minute before finally pulling away.

“You two should probably come in so people don’t see the wings and think I’m hiding mothman or something.”

Taehyung perks up. “Oh, we can fix that.”

And before Seokjin can ask what he means, the air around the both of you shimmers and when it clears, you’re both standing there, wingless.

Taehyung grins. “Angel powers are pretty cool, huh?”

Seokjin blinks. “Y-yeah… Uh, you can still come in though. Wings or not.”

Taehyung grins and ushers both Seokjin and you into the apartment. You all sit and an awkward silence settles on the room.

“So… Where did you disappear to?”

Taehyung grimaces and you reach over to take his hand before turning to Seokjin. “Hand to find a creative way to get home without powers so we could get the film destroyed and recover. The recovery didn’t take long. But trying to find the way home proved tricky when we didn’t have our powers to locate other angels.”

Seokjin glances at you then at Taehyung, a lump forming in his throat. “Are… you going to stick around?”

Taehyung smirks and slides closer to Seokjin. “Depends. Do we have a reason to stick around?”

Seokjin gulps. “We?”

You rise and settle on Seokjin’s other side and both your hand and Taehyung’s come to rest on Seokjin’s thighs in perfect synchrony. “We.” You confirm with a coy smile. “We’d really like to thank you properly first though.”

“Can… Can angels even do that?”

He gets two giggles in response and then both you and Taehyung are slipping from the couch to kneel before him. Seokjin wonders how much you’ve done this to be so in sync with one another. It makes him equals parts aroused and jealous. Two hands slide up his thigh, playing with the waistband of his sweats. Taehyung looks smug and you have a matching expression as you bat your eyelashes up at him, looking every inch like an innocent angel despite the hand that is dangerously close to his rapidly filling cock.

“You can say no,” you offer, when his silence continues to stretch.

“No!”

Taehyung snickers. “I told you. We already had a thing almost going. And who wouldn’t go for you.”

You nudge Taehyung playfully. “Stop that. This is about Seokjin.”

Taehyung turns back to Seokjin, grin much darker than before as his hand tightens on Seokjin’s waistband. “You’re right. So? Will you let us thank you?”

Seokjin blinks. He’s still trying to figure out how he ended up here. The two of you look far more salacious than Seokjin thinks a pair of angels should ever look. He wonders if you’re not just some demons pretending. He can’t deny that the thought of both of you doing whatever you deem as showing your thanks is intriguing. And Taehyung’s not wrong. They had been close. He just didn’t expect that to work out this way. He doesn’t think he can find a thing to complain about when he looks at how pretty you both look between his legs and eager to please.

“Hm, do you think he’s distracted by the thought of what we’ll do to him?” Your gaze slides towards Taehyung.” “Or how we look together?”

A groan rumbles in Seokjin’s chest. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about seeing the two of you together. You both smile at the reaction and take that as consent to tug Seokjin’s pants down and off. His cock rests hard and heavy against his belly as the both of you greedily drink in the sight.

Your tongue darts out to lick your lips as Taehyung presses Seokjin’s legs a little further apart so that both you and Taehyung fit between them. You make eye contact with Seokjin and wink before turning to Taehyung and pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is immediately filthy and Seokjin groans at the slick sounds coming from you both. It’s clear that you are familiar with each other, an ease that oozes from you both as you kiss. Taehyung’s hands tangle in your hair, drawing a loud moan that he’s quick to swallow.

Seokjin starts to feel a little like an intruder, but as soon as he has the thought, there’s your hand is sliding up his calf. You stop at the bend of his knee and Seokjin only has a moment to ponder what you’re doing before you’re tugging him closer until his ass is perched on the edge of the couch. He’d be a little scared at the casual display of power if it didn’t turn him on more. Not breaking contact with your kiss with Taehyung, your hand continues its path up his leg until you can wrap your hand around his cock.

Seokjin’s hips jerk into your grip and he can see the slightest edge of a smile tugging at your lips. You give him a squeeze before sliding your hand up the thick length. Seokjin wants to squeeze his eyes shut but he’s too drawn to the way you and Taehyung look together. He almost wants to bat your hand away and see what the two of you do together.

Jolting, his gaze drops to where Taehyung’s hand has joined your’s on his cock, thumb circling the head and gathering precum. Then he’s pulling his hand back and slipping his thumb between your mouths. Seokjin sees your tongue brush the pad of his thumb and then brush against Taehyung’s to share the taste of Seokjin with him. It’s unfair how erotic the two of your are together.

Seokjin just might die. Actually, maybe he’s already dead. Maybe that film actually did kill him. If this is the afterlife, he certainly can’t complain. Your hand settles at the base once again and you use your grip to tilt it closer to your and Taehyung’s mouths. You both shift closer, until your tongues brush the head of Seokjin’s cock just as much as they do against each other.

Groaning, Seokjin’s hands curl into fists where they rest on the couch, at a complete loss of what to do as the two of you seem content to torture him by making out with his dick trapped in the middle. The two of you continue like that, tongues brushing the sensitive head of his cock with every brush against each other, lips occasionally dragging with the movement.

Seokjin kind of hopes that he is dead, because he might die with how slow the two of you decide to go. He hesitates for only a moment before he’s unclenching his fists and resting his hand on each of your heads. Getting a pleased hum from you, he takes that as encouragement to push a little more and he pushes both of your heads further down his cock. Your lips barely touch Taehyung’s now that Seokjin’s cock is properly between you, girth forcing you too far apart. You work your tongue, moving lower as Taehyung moves back towards the tip.

You trace a vein until it disappears at the base of his cock, shifting then to lap at his balls. Taehyung’s tongue swirls around the head, taking his time playing with the slit before wrapping his lips around and sucking. Seokjin moans, hands tightening in both yours and Taehyung’s hair.

You let your hand closest to Taehyung trace his thigh before you’re pressing against his clothed erection. Taehyung whines, accidently sliding further down Seokjin’s cock and making himself gag. You smother your laugh against Seokjin’s thigh and Seokjin uses his grip of your hair to pull your face up.

You blink up at him with wide eyes at the sudden action and Seokjin smirks. “I don’t think that was a very nice thing to do, princess.” He gently pulls Taehyung off his cock. “What do you think, prince? Was that very nice?”

Taehyung stares up at Seokjin with wide, blown out eyes, lips plump and spit slick. He licks his lips and shakes his head and Seokjin gives him an indulgent smile and cups his cheek. Taehyung leans into his palm, eyes slipping closed. Seokjin turns back to you and the soft look melts away and you gulp.

He smirks. “Why don’t we give her a taste of her own medicine, my little prince?”

Taehyung shoots you a smug look and nods again, making Seokjin chuckle. He releases Taehyung, who shifts slightly out of the way. Seokjin grips his cock with one hand and guides you down onto it with the other. You open easily, squirming as Seokjin slowly feeds his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

He drags you back, just as slow, before pushing you back down, cock hitting the back of your throat with more force and you gag. Taehyung’s hand finds yours, giving it a squeeze as Seokjin quickly works up a rhythm fucking your mouth. You struggle to take him, Seokjin thrusting before you have a chance to catch your breath.

Tears spring to your eyes and Seokjin chuckles. “Where’s the laughter now, hm, princess? It was so funny when Taehyungie was the one gagging on my cock.”

You whine around him and Seokjin picks up his pace, thighs flexing beneath your hands. Taehyung’s nails scratch along Seokjin’s thighs, sliding up to cup his balls and give them a tug. Seokjin moans and takes only a few more thrusts before he’s cuming in your mouth. You suck him through until he pushes you off and you sit back on your heels waiting for him to look at you.

When he does, you open your mouth to show the mouthful of cum and then you smirk and pull Taehyung back in for a messy kiss, swapping Seokjin’s cum between you both. Seokjin groans, watching the time you take to make sure every drop is cleaned from your lips.

Once you’re finished, you both crawl back onto the couch, each straddling one of his thighs. Seokjin cups each of your faces with one of his hands. Taehyung leans forward to press a soft kiss to Seokjin’s lips and when he pulls back you lean in to place a kiss of your own on his lips.

Taehyung grins when you both press your foreheads to Seokjin’s. “We’re gonna stick around for a while.”

Seokjin can’t say he minds having two angels stick around. It’s a good thing he’s got a king sized bed.

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ihappentolikefnafsurprise · 3 years

Text

Personalities: FNaF 1

I’ve been meaning to do this for so long, just never decided to sit down and do it. Probably because I keep getting distracted with other stuff. Feast your eyes (is that how it goes, I might be dumb). I spent a couple of hours on this, and let me tell you I never thought it’d be this difficult. But I’m proud of this, even if it may be cringe.

(oops they ended up being really long I think you can tell who’s my favourite character (hint they’re a robot))

Basically everyone in this group are buds. Sometimes they don’t get a long but they know how to not take it too far. I tried not to repeat cliches (Goldie being either really flirty or really shy, Chica being a cook, etc.). I mostly went off of what they do in the game and took the traits I liked.

Note that these are the personalities of the animatronics themselves, not the dead children. The idea is that they started off as just the kids but then they got their own lives and slowly developed their own personality until they were separate. I might give them some personalities later on, but right now I’m focusing on the robots.

Likes to be the boss

Freddy

Seems grumpy and unapproachable but he’s actually pretty nice

Scary when he scolds you though

He doesn’t even realize he seems grouchy

Can be pretty boring to hang out with

Unless you enjoy cleaning, dealing with Chica and Foxy, and reading in silence

Bonnie is the one he’s the closest to

(sort of because of Fredbear and Springbonnie being friends, they’re not copying they just happen to mirror it)

Loves hugs and uses them to comfort others

He’ll also use his music box

He’s good at comforting others with hugs

Hates the “don’t touch Freddy” rule

Has a really nice singing voice

He hums and sings when he’s bored or when he’s doing something

The cook of the group and he can make a good pizza

He makes thin-crusted pizzas because helth

He can’t eat so he’ll leave them in the fridge for the kids

Everyone’s baffled on how it got there but accept it anyway

He remembers all the children who come and loves them all very much

He likes to keep things tidy

When Chica’s made a mess in the kitchen he goes in to clean it

He used to scold her for it, but he’s given up

He picks up random items that the children forget with the intention of returning them

Straight up eats them

(He steps in the backroom or goes behind the curtain to get the toys out, children don’t need to see that)

He still continues to pick up toys even when he can’t go off the stage anymore, just a habit that stayed

Frustrated that the new employees just throw away the toys instead of putting them in the lost and found

Sometimes he plays the arcade machines on his own time

He likes to read

There’s no books though, so he just ends up reading manuals, newspapers that people leave behind, employee files, etc.

Until he secretly ordered a book series for himself

It took some convincing from the others

But he ultimately decided to because he doesn’t like the owner

Also the owner is really bad at actually managing the restaurant so he never noticed

Because of this Freddy often steps in from behind the scenes when things are really going wrong, like employees misbehaving

He sends an email to them and then he gives them a little fright when they come into work and they usually either quit or straighten up

He likes earthy tones like brown and beige because he’s boring

Bonnie

He comes off as nonchalant and uncaring

People think he’s angsty

It’s basically his whole persona when he’s on stage, he’s supposed to be the party pooper that doesn’t like parties but is eventually convinced by his friends to join and has fun

Off stage he doesn’t have that much of a presence

He can approach people just fine and isn’t really that shy

He’s just a quiet guy

Probably the best one to chill with because he’ll talk if you’re talking but he’s cool with silence and just enjoying each other’s presence

The type to laugh at his own expense

Has some dark humour and likes to joke around with Foxy, who also enjoys that humour

Secretly the mother hen of the group (despite being a bunny and a guy, he just fits mother)

Would laugh if you trip but then subtly watch you for injuries

If it’s an animatronic he can do some basic fixing

Doesn’t know anything about human first aid, but he’ll help where he can and call for help if he needs to

The type of guy to seem calm but there’s internal panic

If something seems kind of dangerous he’ll watch from afar

But if it’s too dangerous he’s the first one to shut it all down

Good at comforting others

Worries a lot and is probably the most cautious of the group

Very protective

It’s why he’s the first one to come to your door, he wants to make sure it’s no one dangerous (even though they’re like 400lb robots but sssh)

Hides most of his worrying, thinks he’d come across as annoying

Weak to puppy-dog eyes

Likes happy alternative music, but he’s open to almost anything

Plays the guitar by ear

Is pretty good, not legendary, but he experiments on his own

Can’t read sheet music

His favourite colour is red

Takes random pieces of paper like articles and anything useless and writes on the back of them like a diary, he keeps it hidden inside of the backroom in one of the Bonnie heads

Chica

Chaos incarnate

She’s a hyperactive kid that has trouble considering other’s feelings

Struggles with responsibility

Her favourite colour is green

Not at all good at comforting people

But she can listen while you rant and chime in or give you a distraction if you need it

“you wouldn’t believe the crap I had to deal with today”

“I wanna know everything!”

She’s actually the physically the strongest in the group

They’re all pretty strong, she’s just at the top

Mostly uses her strength to lift tables in order to make forts and playing around in the kitchen

Has broken many pans and lots of cooking utensils

Terrible cook

Can’t be left in the kitchen unsupervised for too long otherwise you run the risk of her starting a fire

Good at singing

Loves happy-go-lucky tunes

Radiates positivity

Doesn’t like the others being sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it

She’d probably get Freddy or Bonnie to help

Baby of the group (she is an adult though)

Has excellent puppy-dog eyes, only Freddy can stand them

Has trouble dealing with her own emotions

Tends to idolize or idealize people too much

Doesn’t understand what the outside world is like, or any of the problems that people deal with

I think that you gathered by now that she is not the mother hen of the group, even though she’s chicken

More like the kid sister that wants you to play dolls with her

Doesn’t like being alone and will find others to keep her company

Her feelings get hurt pretty easily

She can take a joke, just don’t be mean even if it is funny

Easily made happy by food

Tries to convince Freddy to make her pizza

When he doesn’t she’s like “fine then I’ll make it on my own”

Spends like a half hour trying to decide which pan to use and even more time getting the ingredients together

Freddy stops her before she can actually make anything, otherwise the whole place will burn

She’s easily distracted and tends to be absentminded

But if she finds something she likes she can sit there and do it for hours

Doesn’t like sudden noises, even though she makes them

Impulsive

Doesn’t play the arcade games, they make her mad

Foxy

The other chaos incarnate, he’s Chica’s partner in crime

If they were left in a room together all the tables would be smashed the chairs would be arranged to make a fortress

Tends to cause a lot of trouble so he gets put in time out often by the Freddy’s

Claims they’re being bums but they just want to keep the building intact

He sneaks away when they’re not looking sometimes and gets in even more trouble

Has the same dark humour as Bonnie

But he doesn’t laugh at himself

Actually a little self conscious

He’s a psychopath that enjoys exercise

When I say exercise I mean running and that’s it

He likes to pretend he’s either running away from or being chased by a huge monster

It’s one of the few things that can calm him down, just let him burn off some energy

Makes the others time him, but Chica usually gets distracted

Not a bad person, he just has a very hard time sitting still

He likes to draw

Carves little pictures into the floor of the cove when he’s bored

He’s running out of space though

If you give him a colouring book (they have some children’s colouring books and crayons) he’ll be calm up until he’s finished, then he’ll want to do another one

He also likes storytelling

Don’t ask him to write though, he doesn’t have much patience

Struggles with feelings of sadness

Misses performing for the kids

Most negative emotions translate into anger

Which will result in him trying to smash things and they others having to hold him back

Says things he doesn’t mean and does things that he wouldn’t do otherwise

He just can’t handle the emotion

Luckily he doesn’t get angry often

More often than not he’ll just pretend the negative feelings don’t exist, which also isn’t healthy

Out of everyone in the group he wants to go outside the most

He likes movies

There was a cheap VCR and tv in the boss’s office that’s now in the pirate cove

Somehow, none of the employees realized he took it

Either that or they just weren’t paid enough to care

He has like two movies he watches on repeat, it’s another thing you can give him to calm him down.

His favourite colour is blue, like the ocean

The true angsty one

Golden Freddy/Goldie/Fredbear

Spends a lot of time alone

Kind of a grump

Doesn’t like being bothered

He got the nickname Golden Freddy because that’s what the others called him when they first met him

It didn’t stick at all until the night guards that saw him called him that

Now it’s something the others call him to tease him, but they usually shorten it to Gold or Goldie.

He doesn’t really mind Gold or Goldie, but Golden Freddy kind of bothers him because it makes it sound like he came after when he’s actually the original

Doesn’t say anything though

Hangs out in the safe room, so the others can’t really get to him anyway

But they can yell through the door so there’s that

(I know it’s supposed to be invisible to them but they have life and stuff so they can see, they just can’t go inside)

He’s very sleepy

Spends most of his time sleeping or daydreaming

Doesn’t really miss performing

Says it was fun while it lasted but he’s fine with it being over

Though sometimes he eats his words when it’s daytime and the kids come

The cheering gives him the urge to come out and say hi even though he knows he shouldn’t

Misses being able to hang out with Springbonnie all the time

Springbonnie is there in the backroom with him, it’s kind of why he spends so much time in there

He activates sometimes, but he usually stays shut down to conserve battery

It’s pretty random

Springbonnie doesn’t know much about what’s going on, he never stays up long enough to get a full explaination

But he does try his best to keep his friend in high hopes

(I’ll be writing his personality later on, with FNaF 4)

There’s no way to charge him because the chargers are on the stage and the others can’t come in to help move him and Goldie’s not strong enough

And he can’t get up on his own

He likes being able to talk to him sometimes at least

Every now and then the others have to convince him to come out

He comes out on his own occasionally

But sometimes he shuts himself out completely and doesn’t realize how lonely he is, even if it is self-inflicted

The best way to get him to come out is knock-knock jokes, he loves them and the irony of it being through a door is just perfect

Likes even the cheesy ones

You can tell him puns or some well-constructed jokes too, he likes pretty much everything

He’s the grumpiest but he’s also the best at making others laugh

What can I say, he has a lot of time on his hands

When he does come out he hangs out with Freddy or Bonnie, the other two are too high energy for him

He plays the arcade games

He has the highest score, since he literally lives there and can play them whenever he wants

Likes the repetitiveness of some of the games

Even if he’s kind of a grump and a recluse the others respect him and come to him for advice when they need it

It’s sometimes stupid stuff like “where did my guitar go” and “quick help me hide Bonnie’s guitar”

He likes the colour purple

#fnaf #fnaf headcanon #fnaf headcanons #fnaf personalities #fnaf 1 #freddy fazbear #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #bonnie the bunny #golden freddy

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sopeyb23-blog · 4 years

Text

The Three Rules

Rule #1

Summary: Spencer and F!bau!reader learn to trust each other during a difficult case.

warnings: swearing(mild), injury, angst, criminal minds style issues

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader Words: 4.2K

A/N: I took forever to get to the point on this one! the beginning is supper fluffy and the end has mostly angst with a little fluff. Part 2 will be up tomorrow! *I do not own any CM characters

~~~~~~~~~~

Rule #1: Trust in each other

A familiar buzzing enters my dream and wakes me. Both Spencer and I’s phones are buzzing loudly on the bedside table and I see him groggily move his hair from his eyes and pick his phone up.

“Hello?” His voice is low and scratchy but his eyes open a little more when he hears whoever is on the other end. Must be Hotch. I groan loudly and turn over to grab my own phone which has ceased its relentless buzzing. Three texts, all from JJ. we have a case, get to BAU ASAP. Well, there goes my weekend.

“Yeah she's here with me, might be a little late, have to drop by her apartment- yeah, yeah we’ll get there as soon as we can- no, don't wait up, we’ll meet you at the tarmac.”

He hung up his phone and placed it back on the table before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I got the same text. How long have we got?” He reached a hand for mine and pulled me into him like we always do in the morning.

“Not long enough i’m afraid.” He placed a quick kiss on my forehead and then released me from his grip. We both rose from the bed and gathered our things. He quickly put on his work clothes while I just threw on a sweater of his and a pair of running shorts that I had brought with me. I would be sleeping on the jet anyways, It would be a long flight.

After a few minutes I stood in Spencer's kitchen grabbing his keys along with mine.

“Spence? Babe, we gotta go, where are you?” I walked around his small apartment to find him standing in front of his bathroom mirror struggling with his tie.

“I can't. It's always so crooked!” I chuckled and he turned from the mirror with a pout on his face.

“Alright, come here.” I continued laughing as he smiled at me and walked to where I stood in the doorway. As I fixed up his tie he snuck his hands around my waist and pulled me into a kiss.

“You know Y/N, we've been dating for six months and it would definitely save us both a lot of time if-”

He started to blush and I brought my arms up underneath his own, around his back so they rested on his shoulders.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” the creeping blush on his face increased ten fold.

“Well, I mean- yes- well, not if you don't want to- I mean it would definitely be easier for the both of us- but I mean if you think it's too fast- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or- you can just say no-”

He stuttered during his rambles and stopped for long enough that I could kiss him with a big grin on my face.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, that's a yes. I would love to move in with you Spencer Reid. But, we’re running late, so let's go”

With a big grin on his face I rushed him out the door with his go bag and satchel before driving the both of us over to my apartment. I dashed up the stairs to grab my own go bag and my work clothes before going right back down to the car.

Spencer~

I swear the smile that she manages to put on my face is something no one else can do. Even as she drove to the tarmac where the team was waiting, the car quiet with only her playlist going on in the background, she managed to light up my whole world. She was still wearing my sweater and a pair of her black running shorts. Her hair was in a messy bun on the very top of her head and she wore a pair of faded high tops on her feet. It didn't matter that we had been awake for a total of 20 minutes or that she had less than a minute to get ready, she was always the most beautiful girl in the world to me.

She parked in the lot next to JJ’s car and we both rushed out to where we saw the rest of the team loading up into the jet.

“About time lovebirds.” Morgan snickered when he saw us and ruffled my hair as I plopped into the seat beside him.

“Good morning to you too Morgan” I smiled and grabbed a case file from JJ’s outstretched hand.

I saw Y/N sit beside Emily on the other side of the jet and pretend to look into her case file while she said something to Emily. Emily quickly turned her head to look at me and then back to Y/N. A big smile spread across her face and she motioned JJ over to them who did just about the same thing.

“What do you think they talk about back there?” I looked up from my file and back to Morgan and Hotch.

“I think I have a pretty good idea” I smiled to myself and ignored Morgan's pleas to tell him. JJ will tell him as soon as we’ve been briefed I'm sure. But for now, I couldn't resist holding something over his head.

Y/N~

JJ briefed Spencer and I just as the jet began to take off. She took little glances at Spence while she briefed us, smiling broadly and not even bothering to try and hide it. Spence put a hand on my thigh mindlessly as we reviewed the case file. The comfort of having him so close to me made me tired all over again.

“Well, that's pretty much everything. I guess I’ll leave you two alone” JJ kept on smiling and walked across the jet over to Morgan and Hotch with Emily close behind her. I noticed Em pulled out her phone and Face Timed Garcia to tell her the news.

Spencer's hand was still resting on my thigh as he looked over his file. I took my hair out from its constraints and took my glasses off, placing a single earbud in, and leaned my head onto Spencer's shoulder. He smiled and put his file down on his lap taking his now free arm and wrapping it around me. I started to drift off just as I felt him take one hand around my back and the other under my knees. He lifted me up from my seat, being careful not to yank the earbud from my ear and placed me lying horizontally onto the jet's couch. He walked away for a moment after he set me down and I groaned at the loss of contract. Then, almost as fast as he had left, he was back, grabbing the king size blanket from my go bag and settling himself behind me on the couch, pulling me into his side, and putting the blanket around the both of us.

Spencer~

JJ shook my shoulder to wake me as the plane started to land. Y/N had already awoken and changed into her work clothes. She wore a pair of blue jeans with a tight red t-shirt and an FBI windbreaker, though still wearing her faded hightops as she always does. Hotch decided to send all of us to the precinct right away instead of splitting us up like we usually do. The case was personal for everyone at the precinct. Mainly because this killer was targeting law enforcement as their main victims. He tortured them and their family members and sent parts of them back to the precinct for all of their colleagues to find.

“Reid, Y/L/N, can I talk to you for a moment?” As soon as we walked in and set our things down I heard Hotch call our names.

“Oooh, someones in trouble” I swatted at Morgan and gave him a glare before waiting for Y/N and walking into an empty conference room with Hotch.

“Something wrong?” Y/N talked immediately while I opted to stay silent. Hotch almost never calls people out like this.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to warn you, two is all.”

“Warn us? About what?” Y/N continued to talk with him as I stood awkwardly beside her.

“Well, as I’m sure you both figured out the team told me that you are moving in together. I am happy for you both, I am. I just need to warn you not to let that excitement and emotion come through in the field.”

“Hotch, you know us, we’ve never let that happen before” I spoke this time letting Y/N take a break from this little tough love talk I'm sure we were about to receive.

“Of course. I know that, but this case is different. Our lives are at stake here as well. Even more so now that we are the highest authority here. I need you to be able to know that and still work this without any issues. So, be honest with me. Do you both think that you can do that?”

Without a second of hesitation we both responded.

“Yes.”

I would say that's one of the reasons our relationship works so well. We aren't just on the same page about each other, we also both know that we love our jobs, they are our whole lives, and we would give anything to do them together.

“Good. that's all, let's get to work”

Y/N~

Hotch left the room right away, giving Spencer and I one moment alone.

“We can do this right?” I looked at him, suddenly questioning what a moment ago I had said without hesitation.

“Hey, look at me.” I brought my head up to look him in his hazel eyes.

“We got this.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed his arm before walking from the room and continuing our work. If only I had known what was to come.

For the next week our entire team worked tirelessly to find the killer. While we worked five more people were killed. Two of them were children, three of them were parents, all of them were connected in some way to the same precinct where every day my team sat and worked. Every single death took an ever bigger toll than the ones before it. Day by day I could see everyone's spirits starting to break. I decided that was enough. I made a vow to myself that not one more person would be hurt by this man while I was here. And I kept my promise. Unbeknownst to Spencer or the rest of the team I devised my own plan to bring this man out into the open. It was risky, it was dangerous, and it was really, really, stupid. But it worked.

Spencer~

Three days after our arrival, the killer began to send notes to us. He knew us all by name. He knew our relationships, and our past, and things about us that we thought no one else knew. It was my job to decode the messages, respond, and draw whatever conclusions I could from the way he wrote. In the last message before everything went down I noticed something strange. Something that he didn't do in any of the other messages. He directed it only to Y/N, and not to anyone else. In every single other note that he sent to us he wrote all of our names on it. Making sure to put at least one personal detail about each of us in the note to show us that he was the one in control. He wanted us to feel like we were helpless. And in a way, we were.

“It just bothers me is all” Hotch had ordered all of us to go to the hotel for the night. Most of us hadn't slept in over thirty hours and we weren't going to be any good to anyone like that. I stood by the sink brushing my teeth and I tried to talk through my thoughts with Y/N.

“Spence, I know it's creepy, trust me. But i don’t think it's anything weird okay? I'm sure tomorrow he'll send a note that's only to you, or only to Hotch or something, I just happen to be the first in his pattern.”

“Well that's what bothers me! You know as well as I do that the first person in a pattern is always the most significant. No one starts a pattern without thinking about the first number in it more than the rest.”

I undid my tie and set it on the chair in the corner of our shared room. At that moment I knew something was wrong. There was no way she would brush off an idea of mine like that unless she definitely knew I was wrong. But she couldn't know I was wrong, could she?

Y/N~

It was time for me to act. Spencer was right, I wasn't the first in his new pattern for no reason. It was because I communicated with him. I gave him what he wanted. Me.

“Spence, I’m going to head to the precinct with JJ and Em okay?” He was laying face down in the bed still asleep. He had been awake and working even more than the rest of us so i decided to leave with some of the others and let him sleep in.

“Huh?” He groggily turned his head to the side to look at me and I pushed a curl out of his face.

“I'm leaving baby, you go back to sleep, it's all good” I gave him a final kiss on the back of his head and without a single word of protest he fell back asleep.

I felt horrible lying to him, but I couldn't put him in danger. I might be able to end this thing without putting anyone else in danger. I holster my gun and grab the keys for one of the SUV’s. I drove to the meeting spot. It was a house on the very outskirts of the town, pretty much in the desert. The house was decrepit and in major need of repair. I'm meeting a goddamn serial killer though so I guess that's to be expected. I stepped out of the car with my weapon in my hand. I called out but didn't really expect a response back, nor did I receive one. I tried the handle of the door to find that it was unlocked and swung it open with my foot so as to keep my weapon up. I heard a creak from the upper floor and immediately dashed up the rickety stairs to find him.

The way he looked into my eyes will haunt me forever. I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing. Like there was no soul behind them. Rossi always says that that's the only similarity he has found in all of the serial killers he has interviewed. They are of different genders and races and from different parts of the world but the one thing they all have in common is the look in their eyes. You could stare at them for days and you would never see any glimmer of emotion in them.

In the short second that I was stunned by his presence he started to come toward me. I screamed to him,

“One more step and I shoot!” not that I really believed it. He obviously didn't either because he kept on walking in a straight line for me.

“Ha! Tsk, tsk, tsk. No you won't. Not when you don't know who I have”

I paused again. What could have been my final mistake. Who he had? He didn't have anyone. But that wasn't exactly a risk I was comfortable taking. He lunged for me and my gun flew from my hands in the struggle. He hit me more times than I could count. He held a knife in one hand but had yet to use it. I scrambled back towards the stairs and he followed. With still no soul in his eyes and a knife in one hand he slashed at me. I landed on the floor just before the stairs and he kicked me down them. The only thought before panic was pain. My mind was foggy but I managed to crawl a few feet and I took out my phone calling 911 as he walked calmly down the stairs behind me.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, FBI badge number 2075778924 i need an ambulance, swat, and police, call SSA Aaron Hotchner.”

There was blood and a kick, and then I was out.

Spencer~

I woke to a knock on my hotel room door. I was still half asleep but I dragged myself from the bed and opened the door to find Emily and JJ waiting with worried looks.

“Hey guys, sorry i slept late, i thought you went to the-”

“Reid listen to me, Y/N's hurt and she’s with the unsub, Derek, Rossi, and Hotch are there now but-” I dashed back inside the room threw on my converse and grabbed my gun before running back to the door and out to the car with them just behind me.

“How bad was she hurt JJ?” I sat in the front with Emily driving as JJ was in the back trying still to talk to someone on the phone.

“I don't know, none of them are picking up” my eyes were wide and my heart was beating out of my chest as they started to explain to me what had happened while I had slept. As I slept she was being reckless. As I slept she lied to me. As I slept she was in danger.

Y/N~

I awoke with Derek standing over me and a very persistent pounding in my head.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah girl genius, it worked” Derek shook his head with a smirk and helped the EMT’s sit me up before walking outside. Hotch and Rossi walked over to where the EMT’s had taken me on the gurney and attempted to give me angry looks, but I could still tell that underneath them were just looks of relief. I shooed off someone trying to lift me into a gurney and instead hopped off one and walked over to an ambulance where I sat on the metal step.

“Y/L/N, that was reckless.”

“I know, Hotch, I’m sorry”

“I'm glad you're okay. Get cleaned up and we’ll talk about punishment later.” I nodded and thanked him before he walked off to help Morgan get the unsub into custody. Rossi, however, insisted on staying by my side until Spencer got here.

“I'm glad you're okay kid. But what you did was stupid. And trust me, I know stupid.”

I laughed and nodded to him.

“I know, I know. I just couldn't let anyone else get hurt.”

“Kid, we're a team. The point of a team is to tell us what you're thinking so we can help.” I stayed quiet as the EMT’s came over to examine me and start to stitch me up. Just as someone placed a bandage over a large gash on my forehead I heard a car pull up and several doors open and close. Spencer jumped out of the front seat and began to half jog with a crazy expression on his face over to me. Emily and JJ ran to him and just in front of him trying to stop him from whatever they thought he was about to do.

“What the hell were you thinking!” His pained angry scream took me by surprise. Spencer never raised his voice. Never.

“You put yourself in needless danger! For what? For glory? For pride?” He was closer to me now but he continued to scream. Emily and JJ were still alongside him, Em was almost in front of him trying to talk him down and obviously not succeeding. Every word he said was like a stab. As he finally reached where I was sitting in the ambulance Emily and JJ stopped trying to move in front of him and instead came to my side.

“Needless? This is what you call needless? Five people were killed, Spencer! You saw as well as I did how everyone was coping! I needed to do something! And It worked! I caught the bastard and I’m fine!”

When I first started speaking it was quiet and sad. But after a minute of seeing the anger in his eyes I began to raise my voice as well. All of the emotion from the past treacherous week came flooding out to him and by the last sentence I was screaming too.

He looked me dead in the eyes and Emily placed a hand on my back to comfort me as I was now crying unabashedly.

“I need you to trust me with things like this. None of this works if you don't trust me. We don't work if you don't trust me”

His voice broke and the look in his eyes turned from anger to a deep sense of pain and sadness. He turned around sharply and began to walk off.

“Spence! Spencer!”

I was crying as Emily looked over at me. I tried to stand up to follow him but was met by three sets of hands pushing back into a seated position.

“No, Y/N. I've got this one.”

JJ stood from her spot beside me and jumped down from the ambulance to walk towards Spencer. Em and Rossi stayed with me as I cried into my hands and after a few minutes Emily ushered the EMT’s back to me so that they could continue their work.

I looked over to where JJ had followed Spencer, by a big oak tree just within sight of me. They stood facing each other and I could see Spencer gesticulating wildly with his hands as JJ talked calmly and every once in a while motioned over to where I was sitting. She put a hand on his arm and I watched as his whole body tensed before he pulled back from her. She looked back at me for a second and said something to him before walking over to where Hotch and Morgan were waiting.

“He’ll come around, he's just hurt” Emily looked at me with sad eyes and I nodded. I kept my eyes trained on where Spencer was standing. Even though he was crying and so, so, very mad at me, he couldn't help but keep looking back at me every few seconds. Still trying to make sure that I was there.

“Agent Y/L/N, I’m sorry but your shoulder is going to have to be put back into place before we send you to the hospital.”

The voice tore me away from Spencer, and Emily took my hand and smiled at me.

“Um, okay. Do I need to do anything or…”

The pain radiating from all over my body made me unfocused and I trailed my sentence off.

“No but, it's going to hurt. A lot.”

“Great. Well, let's get this over with then” Em took my good hand to brace me and the EMT took the other one.

“Okay ready? One… two...and” just before “three” he rotated my arm and a loud pop told me it was back in place. That, and my scream of bloody murder.

Spencer~

I stood with my back to her but every few seconds I would look back. Just to be sure I guess. I wasn't even mad anymore. Other than at myself for yelling at her. I was just scared. Out of what seemed like nowhere I heard her scream out in pain. Not a sound that you like to hear when your girlfriend’s in an ambulance and you aren't even standing close to her. Without a second though I sprinted over to her in a panic to find her hyperventilating and her eyes wide in panic.

“S-spence- Im sorry- im so-so sorry” She was crying and all of her words were broken apart into little pieces. I right away sat down and pulled her into my lap, being as careful as I could to not disturb her bad arm.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I should have stayed with you and I do trust you, you know that” She sobbed into my chest and let out weak whimpers with each one. The pain in her voice broke my heart.

“Can you give her something? Anything?” I looked around but everyone shook their heads. So instead I just pulled her closer to me and tried my best to help her breathe.

“I-do-trust you-.”

“I know baby, I know you do, its okay”

I held her like that for an hour. The team all stayed with us and stood in a circle outside of the ambulance watching me hold her tight to me as she worked through the pain. Eventually the pain subsided, she was breathing normally again and could almost move without crying out.

“Hey Y/N, you know I’ll always love you right?”

“I know. I love you too”

And that was the real lesson of rule number one. It wasn't that we needed to trust each others skills, or jobs, or actions. We just needed to trust that we would always love each other. And that trust is the most important of all.

~~~~

168 notes · View notes

ilguna · 3 years

Text

Anteric - Chapter Two (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, PALM CUTTING, DEATH.

wc; 10.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The bus you take to the Choosing Ceremony is full of people from Abnegation. Grey shirts and cardigans. Grey slacks and skirts. You spend the entire time staring at the top of your shoes, trying to lose yourself like everyone else in here can. Sometimes, you manage to do it. Today it’s harder. You still have a decision to make, since it wasn’t made for you yesterday.

When the bus stops, everyone slowly files out. Starting with the front, to the middle, to the back. Reed carries Alyssum in his arms, you walk next to him, following his steps to where he wants to go. The Hub is the tallest building in the city, stretching far beyond the clouds. You shield your eyes from the sun and stare up at it while you wait for Reed to start to go inside.

Outside of the building stands a group of Candor, talking amongst themselves. Cigarettes are between their fingers, they breathe smoke after a long breath in. You remember the smell of tobacco on the bus man’s breath when he got in your face. You also remember that was your first act of defiance yesterday, as the second was directly challenging Reed.

You wish you could say that you regret asking him that question, but you don’t.

Reed starts up the front steps, you walk behind him. With the amount of people in the Hub today for the Choosing Ceremony, the elevators are hard to get onto. They’re all crowded and take too long, since the ceremony will be taking place twenty stories up. Reed readjusts Alyssum in his arms before he starts towards the stairwell. You don’t complain.

It starts off with only the three of you, but it doubles multiple times the further you go up. Reed has just unintentionally started a trend amongst you all. If you hadn’t gone up the stairwell, you’re sure that you would have all waited in a pack at the elevators, waiting for all the other factions to get on before you.

A man with cropped blonde hair notices that Reed is carrying Alyssum, so he hurries up before you guys so that he can hold open the door for everyone that passes through. You and Reed thank him on your way through. Inside of the ceremony room, the factions are arranged in concentric circles. On the very outside edge is where you’ll be standing with the rest of the sixteen year-olds from every faction. Since you’re not a member of any faction just yet, you can’t sit with them. Not even the Abnegation, who you grew up with.

What you choose today will make you an initiate, and if you complete initiation, you’ll become a member. Some factions are harder than others to get into. While you’re sure that Dauntless or Erudite is difficult, Amity and Abnegation don’t often have initiates that fail. It’s easy to give yourself away for others. Supposedly.

You, and every other teenager in here, arrange yourselves in alphabetical order according to your last names. You stand between a Candor boy dressed in a black and white suit, and a Dauntless girl dressed in pure black, with a piercing in her nose. Finnick is further down, since his name starts with an O. You will get to decide before he does.

In the next circle are rows of chairs for your families. You watch as Reed carries Alyssum to a single chair, and sets her in his lap. She doesn’t fuss much, only plays with the sleeve on her loose shirt. It’s a little too big for her, but all clothes in Abnegation are meant to be loose-fitting to not draw attention to yourself.

Since the responsibility of conducting the ceremony rotates every year, it falls on Candor this year. Their leader is a tall man, with dark hair and haunting grey eyes. His name is Haymitch Abernathy, and he stands at the podium that fits snugly between Erudite and Dauntless. He doesn’t smile.

The room falls into silence as soon as all the chairs have been filled. You clench your fists at your sides, staring right ahead at Reed and Alyssum as Haymitch gives the opening speech.

His voice is monotone, with very little hints of actual emotion, “Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony, the day we honor the democratic philosophy given to us by our ancestors. Let us say thank you for allowing them to give us the idea that every man has a right to choose his own way in the world.”

A few people mutter out a thanks. Your lips are sealed tight, normally the decision is already made for you because of the aptitude test. But unlike everyone else in this room, you truly are given a right to choose where you want to go. Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite all have their arms out for you. Each one of them holds a different opportunity, a different lifestyle. But only one of them is familiar.

“Our children are now sixteen. They are on the edge of adulthood, which means that it’s now time for them to decide what kind of people they will decide to be. A long time ago, our ancestors realized that politics, religion, race and nationalism are not to blame for the awful world. Rather, they determined that it was the fault of a human’s nature to go towards evil.

“Since evil presents itself in many different ways, factions were formed to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world’s disarray.” Haymitch pauses for a moment, “Those who blamed aggression formed Amity.”

Amity, the faction that was ruled out first because you chose the knife over the cheese. The knife you didn’t even end up using because you left it behind to save the girl from the dog. How can you be Abnegation and not Amity too? Selflessness and peace go hand in hand, right? Right?

The Amity share smiles. They are dressed in red or yellow, of all different shades. Amity is seen as loving, care-free and kind. Three years ago, you lost your brother to this faction, because Abnegation wasn’t good enough. Somewhere, Mox is dressed in red and yellow, singing songs and picking apples out of trees. He is not thinking about you.

“Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite.”

Erudite sit together, at least one article of clothing that they wear is blue. You were told a while ago, by someone who you can’t remember the name of, that it’s because blue is supposed to calm the mind. You can’t think rationally if you’re in a constant state of panic and worry. Also, most of them wear glasses, as they’re supposed to make you feel smarter.

If you choose a faction other than Abnegation this afternoon, it will not be Erudite. You switching in the first place will already be a harsh slap to the face. You will not make it worse by choosing the one faction that has their gun pointed at Abnegation. Erudite was never an option.

“Those who blamed duplicity created Candor.” Haymitch gives a ghost of a smile.

The Candor are the ones who don’t lie. They’re also able to pick out liars easily, which makes it frustrating in class when they blurt it out. They don’t believe in holding secrets, as it’s too close to a lie. They wear black and white suits and dresses. They’re also the people you saw before you came into the Hub, smoking in front of the building.

“Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation.”

Your home. You have grown up in this faction for sixteen years, and you have been selfishly debating whether or not you’ll stay. You’re supposed to be able to forget yourself in this lifestyle, but all it’s done is magnify the things you hate about it. Under different circumstances, you think that you would want to stay more. But after everything that’s happened…

“And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless.”

Dauntless is dressed in black, tight-fitting clothes. They have piercings, bright-colored hair, and tattoos. They are loud, and reckless and a lot of people inside of Abnegation don’t like them. To switch to their faction would flip your entire life upside-down. Your current life is not like theirs. You would have to go from forgetting about yourself, to thinking about who you are all the time.

But don’t you do that already?

“Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for decades. Each faction is important, as they contribute to a different sector of society. The Abnegation gives us selfless leaders in our government. Candor has provided us with trustworthy leaders in law. Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers and outstanding technology. Amity has given us understanding counselors and caretakers. Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both inside and outside of the walls.

“But the possibilities of each faction do not end there. We give one another more support than we can put into words. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life.” Haymitch pauses for a moment again, “A life without factions, is a life we would not survive in.”

The last sentence is a direct attack to the factionless, who are supposed to be savages because they live their life without a purpose. They don’t contribute to society in large ways, like the factions. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t at least help. You appreciate them, for they are the janitors, they are the garbage truck drivers, and they are the construction workers. Without them, the city would not be clean and well-functioning.

“This day marks a happy occasion, in which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us toward a better society, and a better world.” Haymitch finishes, signifying the loud applause sounding from the families.

Haymitch reads the names one at a time. A sixteen year-old will step out of the line and walk toward the middle of the circles, where five metal bowls lay. Each one has an element that represents the faction. In Abnegation, there are grey stones. Amity has soil. Candor has broken glass. Dauntless has lit coals. And Erudite has water.

The first to choose is a boy from Candor, who stays with Candor. He makes his way up, and stands behind the faction section. Haymitch reads a new name, the next person comes out of the line, he offers a new knife, they cut their hand, and choose their home faction.

You recognize a few from school. Mac Andas, a boy from Amity, is wearing dark red clothing. He smoothly walks to the middle of the room, cuts his hand and doesn’t hesitate to hold it over the soil. He will be staying in Amity. Amity shares smiles, and a few touch his arm on his way up to stand behind them.

The first to switch factions is an Erudite girl, she holds her hand over Candor. Her new faction shifts in anticipation, excited for their first transfer. You aren’t surprised that she’s switching to Candor. In a way, you’d like to think that brutality of telling truth and the striving for knowledge against all odds go hand in hand. Even if it means to disturb the peace.

Erudite doesn’t look happy, but they don’t voice their opinions, only cast glares toward the Candor section. Their eyes are not yet directed toward the girl, but they will be eventually. Switching factions alone is enough to consider her a traitor.

With the Erudite girl being the first to switch factions, others slowly find the same courage to do what they want, too. Other factions welcome in new initiates, new faces and fresh blood. A girl from Amity named Verda switches to Abnegation. You feel a little warm inside, seeing the way she lights up. She’s happy with her decision, will you be able to feel the same?

A few more names, and suddenly you’re coming up fast. A tight feeling begins in your throat, you clench and unclench your hands. It’s the Candor boy and then you. His name is called, he goes down the steps to the middle. He cuts his hand, and then holds his hand over Erudite. An even trade to balance out the fact that the Erudite girl had went to Candor. Smart nods come from his new faction.

“(Y/n) Gallows.” Haymitch says, his eyes land on you next.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and then you head down the steps. In your head, there’s a loud debate going on. You need to hurry up and choose. All factions have pros and cons, you’re overthinking it now.

It’s not that serious.

Except for the fact that it is. You will not be able to choose again. If you fail initiation, you will land yourself factionless. Is that what you really want? Do you want to live your life driving buses and cleaning up trash off the road, not knowing when your next meal will be? You know you’re strong, but you’re not that strong. The only thing that takes more courage than switching factions, is leaving a faction because your hand was forced. It happens more often than you like.

Not to mention, one of those factionless degenerates is the reason why you lost your second parent.

You stand in front of the large metal bowls, eyes quickly sweeping over them. They’re all stained in some way by now. The Erudite water has gone from clear to a dark pink and the Candor glass is now reflecting red. The only bowls that will not show a difference are Dauntless and Amity. You haven’t gotten to see Abnegation just yet.

Haymitch offers you the knife. It will only be used once, and it will only be used by you. Haymitch gives you a curt nod, and you are left to decide by yourself. The knife you hold now is nowhere near as heavy as the one you held during the aptitude test. This one is lighter, and sharper.

You bring the blade to your palm, carefully dragging it across. You grit your teeth tightly as you watch the rich colored blood spring to life, outside of your body. You stare at it for a second, and then you shift your body to the left, where the Abnegation and Dauntless bowls are waiting for you. You are not cut out for Amity, you are too mean. You are not cut out for Candor, you are a liar. And you are too smart for Erudite to have.

The blood begins to pool in your hand the more you wait. You don’t know how Mox did it. How he so effortlessly chose Amity. He came down here easily, cut his palm and held it over Amity as if his mind had been made up for years. He didn’t think twice, he didn’t hesitate. He just went.

This decision is not so easy for you.

You’ve figured this much: you want to leave. As much as you want to stay, you don’t think you can. And it’s not because of Reed and what happened last night. There have been plenty of times where you’ve straddled the border of pushing it. If you stay here in Abnegation, it means that you’ll be subjecting yourself to getting to know the people who once knew your parents. You will see their pity, and they will tell you what your parents once did when they were alive.

You know this because it’s already happened. Naida still talks about your mother as if you’ll find comfort in it. But really, it digs at you. She uses the same knife, the same look, the same words. It’s having the opposite effect than what she’s intending to do. Both of your parents fell in love with this faction, and they died inside of it. If you leave, you get to start over.

But it also means that you will be starting over without a family. Reed and Alyssum are all you have left. Mox left years ago, you haven’t seen him since the day of the Choosing Ceremony, and Reed never brought you to see him on Visiting Day. If he could do it to Mox, who is only two years younger than him, he will do it to you too. Reed doesn’t change.

He needs help with Alyssum. He can’t take care of her alone, he’s already pushing it with the next door neighbors. Alyssum is only three, too. She needs an older sister, someone she can relate to, to look up to. If you leave, she’ll never see you again. All the memories she’ll have of you will be hazy. And Reed won’t be much help, because he won’t speak of you.

Reed will cut you off as if he didn’t just take care of you for the past three years. You know this because it’s the exact thing that he did to Mox. Mox is never spoken of, not even when the two of you are alone. And he left only a couple of months after Alyssum was born, a couple of weeks after your father died. You were already hurt enough by the fact that you lost two parents, and with Mox gone, it made it all worse.

Reed would rather choose silence than remembrance.

By the time Alyssum will get to choose a faction of her own, she won’t know Mox, and she won’t know you. You and your older brother will just be two faces on the old family photos. The only person that she’ll know is Reed. Not mom, not dad, not Mox, not you. You will hold the memory of her forever, and she won’t even have something to hold onto besides dusty family photos.

If you can’t do it for yourself, then you have to do it for her.

You bring your hand near Abnegation, not quite tipping your hand over the stones just yet. You can see the drops of blood on them from teens who have come from you. All of them transferred without hesitation, they had their minds made up. And you do too, so why aren’t you spilling your blood over the stones?

One reason. You’re waiting for one good reason why you shouldn’t stay. That’s all it will take.

You’ve been in Abnegation your whole life.

You have done nothing but follow the rules. You wore their clothes, you never talked out of line, you gave up your seat on the bus, you walked up the stairs, you never looked at yourself in the mirror. You did the dishes, did your homework, made dinner, never got into trouble. You have never once uttered a complaint even when circumstances were bad. You have been grateful.

You have always put everyone first before you. You have lost yourself in your surroundings too many times. So many times that it took a long time to put yourself back together. You have done more than your part in Abnegation. Don’t you think it’s time to finally be selfish?

Abnegation is home--do you really want to start over as much as you say you do? You know what to expect here. You know that the initiation is volunteering. You know that you will not fail it. With Dauntless, they have people that fail all the time. You’re more likely to end up factionless. You will join your father’s murderer. Do you like that chance? You don’t know Dauntless as much as you think you do. You don’t even know anyone that’s there. You will have no one to lean on for help.

Finnick will leave you behind.

And you’ll only have your brother and family friends to lean on.

Think, is that what you really want? Be honest.

No, it’s not.

What about Reed? He’ll be mad. And he’s the only family that you have left. If you don’t have him, you won’t have anyone…

What are the chances that Finnick chooses Dauntless?

A big chance, actually. Finnick won’t choose Amity, Erudite or Abnegation. Which leaves Candor and Dauntless, but Finnick is not known for being honest. And Finnick is Finnick.

You think… you think that it will be an even trade. Reed for Finnick. Reed and Alyssum for Finnick.

You hope that you aren’t choosing wrong.

You hang your hand over the Dauntless flames, feeling the heat lick at the back of your hand. You have spent your entire life being selfless in Abnegation. You know how to help everyone else, a trait that will be with you for the rest of your life, even if you don’t stay with Abnegation. You think that will be good enough.

It’s time to start focusing on yourself.

You let out the air you’re holding, turning your palm downward. You watch and listen as your blood sizzles over the hot coals. The sound is satisfying, the only noise that fills the room for a beat or two. And then the Dauntless section explodes into cheers, welcoming you in their classic fashion. With how loud they are, you can’t help the smile that creeps its way onto your face.

You bow your head slightly, face feeling hot, but there is definitely a feeling of wholeness in your chest. You head up the steps to stand behind the Dauntless faction with the rest of the initiates. You can feel hands on your arm, pats on your back, there’s whooping. By the time you’ve made it to the top, you can confidently stand there with a smile. However, you are not confident enough to see the look on Reed’s face. This afternoon, you will follow in Moxs’ footsteps of a silent transfer. A clean cut.

The ceremony continues, still going down the alphabet. Most of the people who join Dauntless now, are Dauntless-born. Only a few from other factions aren’t. A girl from Candor, a bunch of boys and girls from Dauntless, a girl from Erudite. With every person that leaves the line, the closer Finnick’s turn draws. You feel nervous for him.

When his name is called, he moves down the steps without hesitation, almost like he glides down. Haymitch offers him the knife, and he takes it, turning his back to Candor, Amity and Erudite. The only two factions that he’s facing are Dauntless and Abnegation. If there’s one thing that you know for sure today, it’s that he won’t be choosing Abnegation.

You can see him in Dauntless black.

Finnick lifts the knife, drags the silver blade across his hand, and patiently waits for the blood to build up. To anyone else, this might look like he’s stalling. To you, it seems like he’s trying to make it as excruciating as possible for the people in Abnegation. Hardly anyone ever transfers because Abnegation is supposed to be a good faction. But they have already lost one of their children. In a moment, they’re about to lose another.

A cheeky smile appears on his face just before his hand flies over the Dauntless flames. He shakes his hand down, the blood smearing down his hand, landing straight onto the coals.

Dauntless explodes again, whistles filling the air. Finnick turns towards the stairs, heading up them at his own pace. When you look to check Abnegation’s reactions, you’re careful to avoid your family, and you make it brief. The most you can see is a few dirty looks towards Dauntless, as if they’re somehow to blame for this.

Finnick stops beside you, laughing. You bump his shoulder with yours, using the end of your shirt to clean the blood off your hand, “Why am I not surprised?”

“You didn’t have to switch for me, you know.”

You look at him to see that his eyebrows are raised. You snort, “Don’t worry, I’m doing this for me.”

Half an hour later, the Choosing Ceremony is over. Dauntless leaves first, which means you have to walk past your former faction. Men and women dressed in grey stare forward, at the back of someone else’s head. Inside of this section sits your only family, Reed and Alyssum, who may or may not visit you on Visiting Day. This is your last chance to look to say goodbye, and to keep yourself from falling into temptation’s trap, you turn to give Finnick a smile.

The people leading the Dauntless pack immediately choose the stairs instead of the elevators. You walked up these stairs hours ago with half the intention of staying with your brother and sister. And now, you’re walking down them with your new faction. Your new family. This is how you will leave your old life behind and find comfort in the new.

As soon as you step foot into the stairwell, you break into a sprint to keep with everyone else’s pace. There’s whoops, cheers, shouts and laughter that echoes off the cement walls. The sound of feet pounding on cement stairs join it, like a pack of wild animals. Among the shouting is Finnick’s voice, who seems to have finally found himself. Instead of taking the stairs, he’ll slide down the railing, causing people behind him to do the same. In order not to trip, you pull up the loose fabric of your pants. You watch as Finnick takes your hand, squeezing it tightly as he pulls you along, making sure that you won’t lose each other.

You can hear the sound of the door hitting the wall as the first few Dauntless burst through the exit doorway. Outside, the sun is setting, splashing bright colors of orange, pink and yellow into the sky. After spending hours inside of the warm Choosing Ceremony room, the outside coolness washes over your skin in a refreshing wave.

You have to run to keep up with the Dauntless.

The crowd thins out the further you go. Together, you take over the entire street, blocking a bus’s way. Finnick and you pace yourselves, not allowing the other to fall behind. Every now and then, you’ll share a look with him. The realization never stops hitting. This life won’t be so bad, it’s been less than five minutes and you can already feel yourself lifting higher and higher.

You’re weightless now that the restraints have been lifted off of your shoulders. No wonder why Finnick has been itching for this feeling. You haven’t felt this good in years.

The running makes your calves burn, almost making it hurt to run. Your throat is dry from how much air you suck in to keep going. You follow everyone down the street and around a corner, until you’re all coming to a stop. It’s a momentary break, before the sound of gasping is replaced by the horn of the train, signaling what you’ll have to do next.

You hand slips from Finnick’s. You know what happens next.

A long, single-filed line forms. The lights on the train are flashing, horn blasting to let you know a second time that it’s coming. Every single door is open to allow easy access for you to get inside. The train whirrs past you, flattening your clothes on your body because of the wind.

Group by group, people pull themselves in and disappear into the cars. Only when one is full, does someone stick their head out to let the others know. In no time, it’s only you initiates left. However, the Dauntless-born have been doing this for years, so they too, are able to get in without a worry. Which means that it’s time for the transfers to give it a try.

And you’re at the front of the line.

You’ve only seen this happen a couple of times. It was always after school, in front of the building while you waited for Finnick. Normally it’s you who’s late to get out there, but on occasion, Finnick found himself held up in a classroom or hallway, waiting for people to get out of his way. If anything, you think that Finnick could do this better than you can. But he’s not at the front, you are.

The last train car is about to come around, so you take off running to keep up with it. This is going to be significantly harder to catch, especially for the people behind you. You have nothing to fall back on if you fail. This could be your first and last test before you find yourself factionless.

Don’t think like that.

The faster you run, the more your legs burn, but it’s a good burn. You hold up your baggy pants with one hand so that you don’t have to worry about tripping over the ends. As you get closer to the train, you remember how the other Dauntless had pulled themselves inside. One step at a time.

You give yourself one last burst, and then you throw yourself to the left, grabbing a hold of the handle with one hand. With the other, you reach up and grab the inside of the doorway. The cut on your hand stings from the sudden use, causing a hiss to rise out of your throat. You arch your back inwards, which is just enough to push you inside.

You stumble a little, catching yourself on the far wall. A laugh rises out of you, a smile appearing on your face. You did it. You turn and head right back to the open car door, looking out to see who’s next. You know that you made it inside by yourself, but it wasn’t easy. Others will need help.

Finnick is running right next to the train. You hold your hand out for him, giving him a wider smile, “Come on, Finnick!”

He jumps, his left hand grabbing the handle, his right grabbing yours. You pull him inside, give him a slight slap on the back, and then you turn to grab the next person. They jump, grab your hand, and get pulled inside. One after another, all of them looking just as dazed as you feel. The only people who don’t take your help are the Erudite girls, who get help from the Candor instead.

You and Finnick take a back corner, away from the door. It’s quieter, and not as dangerous. Next to the door, all it would take is shifting your foot the wrong way and you’d end up falling out. On the other side of the car, stands and sits the group of Candor and Erudite, and the one Amity girl.

“You could’ve just told me you were going to Dauntless!” you throw your arms out, “I mean, it’s not much of a surprise!”

“I wanted it to be dramatic!” Finnick defends, he smiles as he runs a hand through his hair, “What about you? I thought you were staying?”

“I almost did.” you say, and then shrug, “But I couldn’t. I wanted a fresh start of my own.”

“And that’s a good reason.” Finnick says, “You’re sure that Dauntless was the way to go? Not Amity or Erudite or something?”

“Didn’t qualify for either of those. And I knew that you’d come here, so I decided that I’d rather be with you than by myself.” you give him a smile, “Hope you’re ready to put up with me for the rest of your life.”

“I’ve survived so far.” Finnick winks.

It’s over half an hour later before you’re finally getting a clue as to what happens next. Unfortunately, in this time, you and Finnick were able to establish a rivalry with the Erudite girls. Mostly because Finnick said that the faction was for assholes a little too loudly when you were talking about what factions you could have gone to instead. And that’s really all it took before the girls were all pissed.

They’re both blonde, but one of them is taller. The taller one has also made friends with two out of four of the Candor initiates too, and the both of them are also extraordinarily tall. The two of you were almost at a disadvantage, but all it took was Finnick straightening out to his full height and rolling up his sleeves to get the point across.

Back home, you’re not allowed to get into physical fights. And you never really had a reason to, it takes a lot to get under your skin. Being Abnegation is to have a target on your back all the time, the Erudite reports just made them shinier. You have to have thick skin if you’re going to survive. This doesn’t mean that you haven’t had it out with someone once. However, like you’ve been saying, there are rulebreakers. And there are also ways to get around it to make sure that you don’t get caught.

Finnick was one of those kids who always found a way. There’s a couple of rules he has to follow, though. The first is to keep away from Candor and Amity, they have this safety blanket that keeps them protected. Candor kids aren’t supposed to lie, therefore there whatever they say automatically has to be true. The Amity are peace keepers, their natural instinct isn’t to fight, it’s to resolve the problem through words or whatever.

The second rule is to make sure that there aren’t witnesses. You take the kid out to some part of town that’s abandoned, oftentime the factionless areas because no one’s going to intervene. And the third rule is not to get hit. At all. It’s hard to claim it was a fight if one person is beat to hell and the other doesn’t have a scratch on them. Also, the feud probably shouldn’t be public knowledge.

Only recently did Finnick begin to get into fights like that, and it’s always with the Erudite kids because they don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Since he didn’t plan on staying, he didn’t see a need to not fight. Of course, it could always come out later and hurt his family. But why would an Erudite want to admit that they got their ass kicked by someone in Abnegation? It’s almost embarrassing for them.

You’ve had plenty of time to watch and take note of the way Finnick interacts with people. It’s typically nonchalant, but if someone wants to fight, his first instinct will be to match them. To some extent, this must be good survival instincts. To another, Finnick is always itching for a fight. He’ll fit right in with Dauntless.

Needless to say, a fight didn’t break out in this train car. But it’s only a matter of time before one does.

You, Finnick, and a few others gather near the opening of the train car to see what’s going on. You knew that getting off the train would have to include jumping off. You just didn’t know where, you’ve never been out this far. You’ve never ridden the train before at all, actually.

The train is moving slower now to make it easier for all of you to jump off and not hurt yourselves. You watch as a group of Dauntless adults jump from the train, over a gap, and onto a roof. Most land on their feet, there’s a few that land on their knees, dusting the gravel off. They’re all laughing, sparing glances behind them, at cars like yours to see who’s coming next.

A sick feeling sprouts in your stomach, throat growing tight. You have to swallow your spit multiple times to get it to loosen up enough to breathe comfortably. You place a shaky hand against the wall so that you can lean out and see how far away the ground is from where you are now.

You grit your teeth, inhaling deeply as you back off.

You’re more than ten stories up, a fall from this height can kill you. All it would take is a slip, or a jump not strong enough to push you to the roof. You lock your knees to keep from collapsing.

“You’re pale.” Finnick says, he’s eyeing your face, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You chose this life. You have to live with it. If you don’t jump onto this roof, you will have failed initiation before it’s even begun. You will be factionless, and you can’t be factionless. But if you do jump and you don’t make it, you’ll die. Death or factionless, which one will be easiest to live with?

You’re overthinking it again.

You force yourself to look out and watch more people jump. The gap is small enough to cross, you know this because all the Dauntless are making it across. If you try hard enough, you too can easily make this jump. All you have to do is get a headstart and leap. You got onto the train, you can get off the train.

The roof draws closer and closer, with every person out, is another empty car. The Dauntless that have made it to the other side, move out of the way to allow more to spill over. Soon, in less than a minute, you will be one of them.

You can’t jump with everyone in the way.

“Back up!” you shout, motioning for all of them to get away from the door. You place yourself on the wall the opposite of the doorway. Finnick joins your side, the two of you bracing for a run.

You wipe your palms on your pants. The gap is small. The train has a height advantage. You will make it to the other side.

Finnick counts down from three, and on one, the two of you take off running. Just as your foot hits the edge of the train floor, you push off. The wind is howling in your ears, your stomach swarms with butterflies, and then you hit the ground. Your left foot first, and the right one following after. You stumble a couple of steps, hands out to balance yourself. You’re on the other side. You had nothing to worry about, you didn’t even come close to the edge.

Finnick’s on his feet too, stretching his legs behind himself. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Laughter begins in your chest and bubbles out of your throat. Finnick joins the laughter, and follows you to the other side of the roof. More initiates jump out of the train, landing onto the roof. But none of them are nearly as graceful as you.

What amplifies that thought, is the sudden scream that comes from the other side of the roof.

You turn, eyes landing on the girl. It’s the taller Erudite, staring straight down. You look over who did make it, making everyone off one by one. The Amity girl dressed in red is here, the two Candor girls and the two Candor boys dressed in black and white, and one Erudite girl, dressed in blue. Which means the other didn’t make it.

One of the Candor girls has a strong grip on the Erudite girl’s arm, pulling her away from the edge. If it weren’t for her, she'd fall straight over the edge too, joining her friend at the bottom. You’re not cruel, so you don’t wish death upon her. But karma can be cruel. Especially when attacks on others aren’t deserved.

There were nine of you, and now there’s eight.

You shake your head slightly, turning back around to face the man standing on the edge of the roof, hands in his pockets. His eyes are on the Erudite girl, who has now broken into a sob, the Candor girl comforting her. But when he sees you and Finnick drawing closer, his eyes follow. It must be strange to see two Abnegation initiates.

“Listen up!” he begins, people fall silent. Except for the Erudite girl, who’s still crying, “My name is Damon, I’m one of the leaders of your new faction!” Damon has dark skin, his dreadlocks are long, pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. Only one of them is loose, and it’s tucked behind his ear, “Several stories below us is the members’ entrance to our compound. If you can’t muster the will to jump off, you don’t belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first.”

The sick feeling in your stomach returns, you grind your teeth to keep from focusing on it. A girl just fell to her death trying to get onto this roof, and now you guys are supposed to jump off.

“Let me get this straight.” The Erudite girl snaps, her voice raising, “You want us to jump off? What kind of joke is this?”

“It’s not.” Damon gives her a smile, “You can jump off and start initiation, or you can stay up here and be factionless. You always have a choice.”

You will not be factionless.

“What do you think’s at the bottom?” Finnick asks, leaning over.

“Cement.” you say.

The crowd in front of you initiates splits. Some go right, others go left. It leaves a wide enough path for you to take to where Damon is standing to jump off. No one moves from where they stand, though. Not even Finnick, who’s normally eager to do anything dangerous and rule-breaking. The Dauntless-born could do this in their sleep, and they don’t move an inch.

A beat passes, and then two. At this rate, you’ll all end up factionless. In your head pops the image of the Erudite girl that had been the first to switch factions. Before her, no one else had gone. In a way, it’s like what happened in school after tests. All it would take is one person to turn it in, for all the rest to follow.

“I’m going to jump.” you tell Finnick, “Make sure you’re next.”

“What?” he says.

You start forward.

Damon raises a half-shaved eyebrow, giving you a challenging look, as if you won’t actually be able to go through with it. If you’re being honest, halfway through the walk, you start regretting it. But you’ve come this far, you can’t turn back now. You won’t be seen as a coward.

It could all be a trick, you know this. The Dauntless don’t have to be kind, they’re not held up by the same virtues that Abnegation and Amity are. But they wouldn’t just kill you. They don’t know you or your story. Only that you switched from Abnegation. You’ll have to admit that them allowing the initiates to go first is a red flag. Which is all the more reason to go first.

This is a test of courage.

Damon steps off to the side, motioning for you to take his place when you stand right in front of them. There’s thousands of alarm bells going off in your head, all warning you to take a step back and realize what you’re about to do. You’re going to jump off of a roof, you should have more common sense than this. What the fuck are you doing?

You stand on the edge of the building, your toes hanging over the edge. The wind picks up, making your clothes snap violently. The building you’re standing on is one side of a square. In the middle of the square, is a hole. When you look down, all you can see is concrete, with one single hole in the middle. You can’t see beyond that.

Your heart skips at the bare thought of jumping, the butterflies taking over your body again. You take in deep breaths through your nose, gritting your teeth, “This will not kill you.”

You turn to face away.

“This will not kill you.”

You lean back.

“This will not kill you.”

And fall.

The wind howls in your ears loud enough for them to pop. A scream rises in your throat, which you’re barely able to hold down. Your stomach makes home in your chest, every muscle in your body tenses. You suck in a breath when you see the hole draw closer. Either you die, or you live.

You picture your body laying on the cement.

You’re engulfed in darkness in an instant. And then you hit something hard that eventually sinks under your weight. You let out the air you were holding, dizziness sprouting when you do. Your fingers glide over the thing beneath you, and you find that it’s a net. You’re not dead. You’re very much alive.

You lay your head against the net for a second, staring up at where you had just jumped from. And then, you’re laughing, not being able to control yourself when you sit up to see where you go next. You’re greeted with hands, all out to help you off. You grab one of them, allowing them to pull you the distance.

Your feet connect with a wooden floor. Your hands glide to your hand, fingers hooking around your hair tie to pull the knot on the back of your head free. It’s grown considerably awful since you’ve jumped off a train, and now a roof. It’s only down for a brief moment, then you’re pulling it into a ponytail on the back of your head.

Your eyes become adjusted to the dark quickly to see that you’re standing on a platform that’s ten feet above the regular ground. Around you is an open cavern. You are now inside of the Dauntless headquarters. You look over to the person that just helped you off of the net to find it’s a woman. You have to look up to see her face.

Laurel has a smug look on her face, “What name do you want to give us?”

There’s a lot of things that you have left behind today, but your name won’t be one of them, “(Y/n).”

Laurel gives you a nod, it’s obvious she recognizes you. She looks over her shoulder, “First jumper--(Y/n)!”

You watch in slight horror as a crowd comes from the cavern’s walls. You hadn’t even noticed that they were there. And in classic Dauntless fashion, they immediately cheer, pumping their fists in the air, whistling, stomping, some clap. You give them a smile.

“Welcome to Dauntless.” Laurel says.

You look back at the net just in time to see another initiate fall from the roof. They bounce on the net once or twice, hair going in every direction. It isn’t until they sit up, do you realize that it’s Finnick, heeding your advice. There’s a grin on his face, you can hear him laughing to himself.

The Dauntless standing around the net reach over for him. He takes one of their hands, helping him off. Laurel leans over to get his name, and then turns, “Second jumper--Finnick!”

The cheering coming from the crowd is loud. Finnick joins you where you stand, eyes wild, he runs a hand through his hair to tame it, “Holy shit.”

“Tell me about it.” you breathe.

When the rest of the initiates stand on solid ground again too, Laurel and a woman named Pleurisy lead you down a narrow tunnel. Everything is made of stone, and the ceiling slopes downwards. Most of it goes unlit, which means you have to rely on your senses to get through the dark. However, after a few close encounters, you wrap your arm around Finnick’s to keep you steady, letting him decide your fate.

When Damon, Laurel and Pleurisy come to a stop, you do too. They all face you, Pleurisy is the only one to speak, “This is where we split. The Dauntless-born initiates are with me, I’m pretty sure you don’t need a tour of the place.”

Pleurisy starts her way into the darkness, you watch as most of the crowd goes with her. You count them as they pass, and end up with the number ten. In total, combining both the transfers and the Dauntless-born, there’s eighteen of you. Damon takes the end of the crowd that’s leaving, wishing Laurel good luck.

“My name is Laurel,” Laurel says, loud enough to cut over the voices speaking behind you, “I’m going to be your instructor for the next few weeks during your initiation. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me after the tour.” She turns her back to you all, and starts walking, “This is the Pit.”

She pushes open a set of doors at the end of the hallway, you and the others walk out to see what she means. Like the hallway, the Pit is also an underground cavern. It’s an open space out here, though. It’s huge, you can’t see the bottom, and you can’t see the other end of the Pit from where you are. There’s several stories above you, and inside of the walls are built-in stores. Food, clothing, supplies, places to build hobbies. The paths leading up are narrow, and it doesn’t have railings to keep you from falling off.

At the very top of the Pit, is the roof. It’s made out of glass, allowing sunlight to come in and light up the area. This doesn’t mean that there aren’t blue lanterns strategically placed around the paths. The sunlight covers only so much distance. As the sun sets, the lanterns become more reliable.

There are Dauntless members everywhere, caught in their own little bubbles. They shout and laugh, and their children run along the hole in the ground as if it’s not dangerous. All of them are dressed in black, with varying amounts of piercings, different brightly colored hair, and tattoos. Each and every last one of them is unique, unlike in Abnegation.

“Let’s go to the chasm!” Laurel says.

She brings you along the right side of the Pit, straight into the dark. Once again, you place your hand on Finnick’s shoulder. You lean in slightly, “Something tells me that one of us is going to end up tripping and knocking out our entire row of front teeth.”

“Don’t let it be you. I heard that you’re the coolest out of all of us.” Finnick snickers.

You punch his arm slightly.

Laurel brings you to an iron barrier, a railing at last. You can hardly see through the darkness, but there’s an unmistakable sound of rushing water. You let go of Finnick and head forward, firmly placing your hand onto the railing before you lean over the side to see down. A couple stories down, is a river. It’s making so much noise because it’s constantly crashing into the jagged rock wall. One particular wave hits the wall hard enough to send a spray of water up, it doesn’t reach you.

“The chasm is a reminder that there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity!” Laurel shouts over the noise, “One jump off this railing--” she slaps the metal, “--will end your life. It’s happened many times before you, do not be one of them. This is your only warning.”

With that, she leads you all down another hallway, across the Pit and to one of those holes in the wall that you mentioned earlier. The room alone is bright enough to light up the hallway. When you get closer, it’s clear that it’s some sort of dining hall, full of the Dauntless.

Laurel brings you in, and steps aside. For half a second, the entire dining hall falls silent. And then the crowd is roaring, loud. They all get to their feet, slamming their shoes against the concrete, whistling, clapping, cheering. The noise lasts for minutes on end, you can’t help the smile that appears on your face.

When it does end, you’re all left to find seats by yourself to get comfortable. And since FInnick is taller than you, he easily spots a table on the far side of the dining hall. He moves quickly through the aisles, so you have to grab a hold of the back of his shirt to keep from falling behind.

He takes a seat, you’re sure to sit on his left. It’s only a few moments later when you’re being joined by some of the other transfer initiates. The only Amity girl takes a seat across from you and Finnick, tucking some of her curly dark hair behind her ear as she serves herself without a word. While the only Erudite girl comes through with the Candor boy and girl that she was talking to on the train. Her eyes are bloodshot, she spins a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, puckering her lips before she sits down in a flourish. Her friends sit beside her.

You wonder when you’ll finally know all of their names.

“How bad do you think initiation is going to be?” you ask, looking over at Finnick.

Finnick’s currently staring at the food that’s in the middle of the table. None of it do you recognize, and it sits on large silver plates. You two are used to frozen chicken and canned vegetables. Fancy food in Abnegation is, of course, self-indulgent. But there’s also the fact that farms are far away from where you used to live. Even if Abnegation were allowed to eat the food, you wouldn’t be able to get it.

“Well, considering that we’ve jumped off a moving train and a building, I think that it can only get worse from here.” Finnick barely spares you a glance, “Okay, seriously, what the hell is this?”

He picks up a… sandwich…? off of one of the platters. He turns it slightly, being careful not to let it disassemble itself, “I’m kinda missing the chicken right now.”

“The Abnegation transfers don’t know what a hamburger is?” A loud voice says.

And right on beat, Finnick asks, “What the fuck is a hamburger?”

You let out a snort that develops into a loud laugh. Even the Amity girl sitting across from you two is laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. She raises her eyebrows, and looks over at the Erudite girl. If her intention is to embarrass either of you, she’s going to have to try harder than that. Last time you checked, you three were the first to jump off the building. She took her sweet time coming down.

“Hamburgers in Amity are typically for special occasions.” The girl speaks, “We normally eat fresh fruits and vegetables, but sometimes we’re able to have stuff like this.” She smiles, “My name is Thyme.”

“Nice to meet you,” you give her a smile, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Finnick Odair.” Finnick says, he also smiles, “Am I supposed to eat this dry?”

“No, you can use this.” Thyme pushes forward a couple of bowls of different colored sauces, “Put it on the top bun.”

Out of instinct, you glance at the other transfers. But you have to look again when you see that the Erudite girl has got her eyes on you, glaring.

“If you’re going to say something, do it. Otherwise, stop fucking staring at me like a freak.” you snap, pressing your palm to the table.

She turns away, so do you.

“Wow, had I known that your personality would change completely, I would’ve told you to go to Dauntless in the first place.” Finnick says, he gives you a grin.

“I’m surprised that you haven’t killed any of them yet, yourself. What happened to violence first, words second?”

“I’m eating.” he says, holds up the hamburger like he’s cheering, and then takes a bite.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that in the first stage of initiation.” A familiar voice says, you look up to see it’s Laurel. She takes a seat beside Thyme, “I wouldn’t worry about it now. In fact, enjoy the peace while you can.”

Your face twists, “That doesn’t sound good.”

She shrugs.

You go ahead and help yourself. For about fifteen minutes, you, Finnick and Thyme are between eating and getting to know each other. Or rather, getting to know Thyme better and telling her bits and pieces about yourselves. Like the rest of you, Thyme is sixteen, she’s from Amity, she has two sisters and a younger brother. She’s the only one in her family to have switched factions. And her face darkens when she mentions it’s because of Amity’s values.

Guess they’re too sunshine-y for her? Not that you want to ask what she means, because the tone of her voice was pretty set. But you don’t get the chance to anyway. The doors to the dining hall open to reveal one person. He must be important, because he’s able to make the entire fall quiet, only whispers being heard. You watch as he comes down the aisles.

You wipe your hands on your napkin, and then your mouth, “Is he another leader?”

“Yup.” Laurel says, she looks over her shoulder slightly to see.

You and Finnick fall completely quiet. And then he chokes, coughing and covering his mouth with his hand. You pat his back without looking at him, it’s only when he shakes your shoulder, do you see his face. It’s red, he struggles for a moment, and then says; “He looks familiar.”

The leader coming down the aisle is blonde. The sides of his head are shaved, but the top is long enough for him to pull it into an acceptable ponytail. His hair is only a couple of inches long, not long enough to reach the back of his neck. You think that it would barely reach the back of his head, actually. But the blonde hair sticks up, wavy and fanned. He’s got a piercing through his nose, and two through his bottom lip on opposite sides. Tattoos snake up his arm.

Finnick is right. There’s something about him that’s familiar. And it doesn’t hit you until he smiles. You can practically hear his laugh in your ears, riding right along with your brother’s.

An unintentional gasp leaves you, hands curling into fists, “Caspian.”

Laurel backs up slightly, looking over you, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“He was best friends with my older brother.”

The sudden urge to call out his name to gain his attention fills you, but you don’t have to. He takes a turn toward your guys’ table, eyes seeping down until they land on you. You stand from your spot, a smile coming over your face.

“Caspian!”

Caspian gives you a white grin, “And for a second, I thought I’d get the jump on you. How are you?”

When he sits, you do too, “Good, actually. You look so different.”

“All part of the Dauntless scheme.” he then gives a look to Laurel, “Except for her.”

“I got a tattoo.” she defends.

“And your brothers?” Caspian looks back to you.

You give a half-hearted shrug, “Mox is in Amity, he switched a couple of weeks after the accident. Reed is still Reed, but Naida and the kids are doing good!”

You can’t directly mention that it’s his family. Technically, when you switch factions, you’re supposed to forget who you were before. Family, mannerisms, friends. The saying is ‘faction before blood’. You’re sure that Caspian wouldn’t jeopardize his position here to ask about his family, anyway. So you thought that you might as well answer the questions that he won’t ask.

He gives you a sincere smile, a silent thank you. But then he’s grinning, “Dauntless, huh? Thought you were all about Abnegation, Stiff.”

“Couldn’t do it, it’s too stuffy there.” you loosen up a little, jabbing your thumb at Finnick, “Plus, I knew that this idiot would come here. And I couldn’t just leave him to fend for himself.”

“Haha.” Finnick says, rolling his eyes, “You should’ve seen her so far, though. She’s fearless.”

You can feel your face grow hot, “For now.”

“Well, keep up the spirit.” Caspian says, “You’re going to need it.”

At the end of dinner, Caspian takes you and the rest of the transfers down a series of hallways. Laurel had split. An end of a hallway is signified by a single blue lamp, and then you’re submerged back into darkness for long periods of time. The ground is uneven, so you rely on Finnick’s occasional complaining and the sound of him tripping, to let you know when to step up or down.

During this, he eventually grabs a hold of your shoulder.

Finally, Caspian stops in front of a side of large wooden doors, and then turns to you all, “My name is Caspian, I’m one of five leaders here in Dauntless. We take initiation seriously, so I’ve taken the liberty of volunteering to oversee most of your training.”

Volunteering. Very funny, Caspian.

“Here’s some rules!” He shouts, “Be in the training room by eight everyday, training will take place from eight to six, with a break for lunch. After six, you’re free to do whatever the hell you want. Between each initiation stage, you’ll get some time off.”

Time off? That, right there, is already a big difference between Abnegation and Dauntless. In Abnegation, you’re not allowed to put yourself first, much less your interests. If you had free time, you needed to fill it by helping out Reed, Alyssum, a neighbor, somebody. The only time you would get to yourself would be at night, when you were supposed to be in bed, sleeping.

“You can only leave the compound if you have a Dauntless buddy, not one of your shitty initiate friends. If you leave without one, you will have to answer to one of the Dauntless leaders.” He grins, “Probably me. Behind the door is where you’ll be staying for the initiation process. There’s ten beds, eight of you. Pick whatever you want.

“During the first stage of initiation, you’ll be kept separate from the Dauntless-born initiates, but you’re still being compared to each other. When initiation ends, your rankings will be decided depending on what the Dauntless-borns have gotten. Long story short, it’s all rigged.

“Depending on your rank by the end of all of this, you’ll get to pick your job. The higher the rank, the better the job. Also, only the top ten initiates are made members. In total, there’s eighteen initiates this year, four of you will be cut on the first stage, and the rest will happen after the final test. However, you always have the option of dropping out and becoming factionless.”

He pauses to let this sink in. It’s so quiet in this hallway, that you can hear when someone shifts on their feet.

Ten initiates will become members. Dauntless practically cuts all of their initiates, no matter what happens. Dauntless is more ruthless than you anticipated. But if Caspian of all people can get through initiation and be good enough to become a leader, then you can pass too.

And you will.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Whumpas In July: Secret

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~5910

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Sleep deprivation, dissociation, it-happens-in-a-dream domestic violence, blow jobs, hallucinations, stalking, night terrors, nightmares, therapy, mental health issues, lying, secrets, open ending, TBC

A/N: It's a day late, but it happened! I may have missed a tag or two, please let me know if you catch something I'm posting this and I'm very tired :(

A sequel to “Support”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

Sitting against his new headboard, in his new bed, alone in his new house, Iruka tips his head back to the ceiling and sighs heavily through his nose. It’s late, and he has classes to teach in the morning, but gods he can’t sleep. He wants desperately to blame this bout of minor insomnia on Kakashi’s absence; his partner left a week and a half ago on a mission above Iruka's clearance, which can only mean S-rank. And yes, of course he’s worried, but Kakashi’s also still within the clocking estimate for the mission parameters, so he’s not… he’s not that worried. Kakashi’s the best for a reason. He was assigned to the mission for a reason.

That’s not why Iruka can’t sleep.

His hands rest on his thighs, lower back aching. He’s been sitting here, in this position, for hours. First he was reading, then he was meditating; now he’s… shit, he’s not sure, but he’s definitely keeping himself awake deliberately at this point.

Because every time he falls asleep, he sees Mizuki hovering over him again. And he can’t. He can’t sleep, knowing that that’s waiting for him in his dreams.

It started ten days ago—the same day Kakashi left for his mission, oddly enough—when he brought the mail in. He wasn’t expecting much; junk, new utility set-up, perhaps a polite correspondence from the principal mentioning his move. What he hadn’t expected was a letter from the Konoha prison.

At first he thought it was for the previous tenant, that they had failed to file the paperwork required to forward their mail in time and so the post office sent Iruka the wrong mail. A perfectly normal mistake. But. The letter was addressed to him. Umino Iruka. It even had the new address written out, not his old one; so it hadn’t been forwarded.

That was what made Iruka pause and his heart throb and his breath stutter. He hadn’t yet filled out the mail-forwarding paperwork either, a task he meant to do that night and file in the morning. No one besides the utilities and the Academy had his new address listed as official. The prison certainly didn’t.

He went inside and put his back against the door, locked it and set the wards, and only when he felt safe did he open the letter.

DID YOU REALLY THINK LEAVING WOULD RID YOU OF ME

Iruka dropped the paper and slid down the door. He blacked out.

“How is the new house?”

“I’m adjusting,” Iruka says. “It’s a lot more space. It’ll be better when Naruto comes home.”

“I understand Hatake-san is out of the village.”

Iruka nods.

“I also understand that you have the clearance to know the clocking estimate, but not the mission details.” Rikona holds up her hand to stop his question. “I don’t know about it either. You know more than I do, actually. Having once had Sandaime’s ear has put you in quite a unique position, hasn’t it?”

Iruka settles. “It does. Tsunade-sama also trusts me with a considerable amount of information well above my rank.”

“Do you feel that this is a source of anxiety for you?”

“No. I would worry more if I didn’t know.” Iruka scratches his scar with one finger. “I worry anyway, especially if the shinobi out on mission are former students of mine. But I think it would be worse if I didn’t have the clearance to check what they were going into.”

“Some of your students will be of age soon to be tapped for ANBU service,” Rikona prompts.

“I try not to think about that.”

“Your file says here you also were considered for service, should you advance in rank,” she leans her head into a propped hand, elbow balanced on the edge of her desk. “You could have met Hatake-san much earlier.”

“I’m not a good fit for ANBU, Rikona-sensei, and we both know that,” Iruka grins. “I’m… too soft.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that’s true. I think, maybe, you’re too human.”

“Too—?”

“ANBU, being the Hokage’s sharpest tools, have to separate themselves from their own humanity.” She smiles. “We’ve only been doing these sessions for about two months, but in my professional opinion, that separation would be particularly difficult for you.”

Iruka nods hesitantly. “I understand. I… I can, should a mission require it, but…”

“But that separation doesn’t come easy enough.” Rikona makes a note—a scribble, really—in the notes on her desk. “In our world, that weakness is pretty significant. But for your own profession, as a teacher of young people, that humanity is essential. Keep holding onto it.”

“Thank you,” Iruka nods. “I’ll certainly try.”

“We have five minutes left. Is there anything else you want to discuss quickly before we part for the week?”

Iruka thinks, briefly, about the letter in his genkan. He hasn’t been able to move it. It’s stuck under the edge of the table against the wall, one placed specifically for dropping keys and gloves and mail and hitai-ate onto when he gets home. The very edge of it laughs at him every time he leaves or enters his house.

“No. Nothing else comes to mind.”

Rikona nods. “Then I’ll see you next week, same time.”

“Thank you, Rikona-sensei.” He stands and bows, and then sees himself out.

He turns his face with the force of the slap—they learned that punches left bruises, but slaps only left red marks that faded by morning. His back meets the wall, the bookshelf, a picture frame; something crashes.

“Do you like making me mad Iruka?”

He’s pulled up by his shirt and slammed back into the wall again, this time the back of his head hits hard and he stands dazed for a moment. Mizuki cups his cheek, red and hot from the slap just a minute ago, and kisses him.

“I hate hurting you, but it seems like it’s the only way to make you listen.”

The kiss turns into a bite, Mizuki gnawing at his throat. He gasps, sobs, tries so hard to be quiet; they’re not in the bedroom yet why is Mizuki doing this they’re not in the bedroom yet—

“I give you all you could want, and you can’t even spare one evening for us to be alone?”

Mizuki won’t punch him in the face anymore; that doesn’t mean he won’t punch him elsewhere. His fist digs into Iruka’s stomach; he leans over, hugging his middle. He starts to slide down the wall at his back, the fabric of his shirt riding up as it scratches against the texture of old paint.

Mizuki halts him with a hand in his hair. He lets out an involuntary, soft cry.

“You only have me. Stop trying to replace me, so I won’t have to remind you who you belong to.”

Mizuki softens his voice, but tightens his hold on his hair.

“I don’t like hurting you, Iruka. But you make me so mad I can’t stand it. I’m the only one who can love you, okay?”

“Mizu—”

“I’ll be in the bedroom. Don’t make me wait too long.”

Then he lets go of his hair and Iruka slumps the rest of the way to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his head in his arms. Gods what did he do to anger Mizuki so?

…

Iruka wakes with tears stuck to his cheeks and eyelashes, his mouth dry as his own attempts at baked goods, and a deep-set chill which no amount of tea and blankets will stave off.

He really hopes Kakashi comes home soon. This sleeping alone thing is bullshit.

Iruka doesn’t sleep for the rest of the weekend. On Sunday evening he fills out a request for a substitute and leaves it on the principal’s office door, and then heads back home. It’s the sloppiest form he’s ever filled out, but he needs to try and sleep. He’s hoping he’s exhausted enough, being awake for over forty hours with the aid of food pills and meditation, that he’ll sleep dreamlessly tonight and tomorrow.

And then he goes to unlock his door and a pair of arms encircle him, and a soft voice rumbles in his ear, “Hello, Love,” and fuck he’s glad his reflexes are shit right now because his instinct screams danger! but his heart cries Kakashi—

He slumps back into Kakashi’s arms, sighing. “Welcome home,” he murmurs.

“Iruka?”

“Hmm. Really tired.”

“Me too. Bed?”

“Just to sleep.”

“Of course.”

Kakashi walks them inside and sets the wards while Iruka drops his keys and vest and takes off his sandals. The letter glares up at him from under the table; he subtly toes it further underneath, so Kakashi doesn’t see it.

The man already has it out for Mizuki. This would just push him over the edge. Better not.

Warm hands slip his hitai-ate off his head and gently untie his hair. He hums, and leans into Kakashi’s chest beside him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” Iruka says. “Just having an… adjustment period. With the new place. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Ah. I understand.”

He takes Iruka’s hands and kisses his wrists. Just about a month and a half ago, they’d been torn up with rope burn from the three days he’d spent in captivity. Now, there are just a few pale scars there. Kakashi kisses them every chance he gets.

He pulls Iruka along to the bedroom. “Do you need to eat first?” Iruka asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “I had a ration bar on the way home. I’ll be alright until morning.”

Iruka opens the door and leads the way in, turning to face Kakashi once the door is shut behind them. He brushes his fingers along his partner’s mask, asking, “Is this—?”

“Take it, Love.”

He wets his lips and pulls the fabric down, and gently thumbs at pale cheekbones, lips, the mark at the corner of Kakashi’s mouth. More than anything else, getting to bare Kakashi’s face feels so intimate, so charged. He kisses him softly, chastely; Kakashi holds him around his waist and walks them back to the bed.

They strip each other quickly, touches and kisses growing heated. “I thought we were just going to sleep?” Kakashi chuckles.

“I missed you,” Iruka murmurs, moving to trail kisses down his jaw and throat, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. He follows, dropping slowly to his knees and dragging kisses across the expanse of Kakashi’s pale chest. “Maybe I missed you too much,” he presses into Kakashi’s skin.

“Gods, Iruka, you—you don’t have to—oh, please,” Kakashi leans back on his palms, breath starting to come heavier. Iruka swirls his tongue around one nipple, bracing a hand on Kakashi’s lower back.

“I know I don’t have to,” Iruka sighs, licks his way to the other nipple and sucks harshly to pull a strangled gasp from his partner. “But I definitely want to, if it’s alright?”

“Yes. Yes, please, absolutely alright.”

He dips his head lower, nosing at Kakashi’s stomach and letting the man fall back onto the bed; first, to his elbows, then all the way flat on his back. He mouths around the base of Kakashi’s cock, breathing him in, feeling the lithe muscles of his thighs under his palms.

He’s still exhausted. But this. This he can stay awake for.

Iruka asks, lips against Kakashi’s reddened cock, “Can I put you in my mouth?”

“Please. Please, yes, yes, Ah—fuck, oh-oh shit—”

Normally, Iruka would simply slide Kakashi into his throat and hold him there, comfortably in his mouth, until Kakashi needs to come. Tonight, though… tonight he tries—more. He slides his lips down, down, down until they meet wiry curls, until the head of Kakashi’s cock, indeed, slips down his throat. And then. Then, he moves.

“Ah, yes, so nice. Perfect, Iruka; love you, love you, love—oh, oh shit, love what are you—OH GODS—”

Kakashi throws his fist into his mouth and bites down to keep from screaming as Iruka starts fucking his mouth on his cock, gliding up and down with spit-slicked lips and such warm, open, wet heat—it’s… it’s…

And then Iruka starts to speed up. He braces himself on Kakashi’s hips and bobs his head just out of Kakashi’s range of view—he could open the sharingan and see it perfectly but gods that would be cheating and he has no doubt in his mind that knowing he’s not being watched is actively helping Iruka avoid an episode so he won’t, he can’t. But oh, he wants.

“More. More, please. Whatever you can give me, please love,” Kakashi whines. “Fuck, Iruka.”

Iruka hums, tongues at him more, and pulls him into his throat to hold him for a moment. Breathes, in, out, in—out, and his mouth slides back up the shaft to the head. He stays there for a while, sucking and lapping at his slit and Kakashi pants heavily, reaching down with one hand blindly to touch Iruka’s hair. As Iruka begins to bob slowly again, Kakashi reaches even further to thumb at the corner of Iruka’s mouth, stretched around his cock. Iruka tips his head just slightly to the side, to lean into the touch.

“Can I—” Kakashi licks his lips, his breath hitching, “Can I use the g-word tonight?”

Iruka taps his hip… and then taps it again.

Kakashi nods. “Okay. Okay, Gods, but. Just. Oh. Fuck. Amazing. Literally Breathtaking, Iruka fu-uck.”

Iruka hums along his length; it sounds almost like a laugh.

“I’m. I need to. Love, please, I—”

He picks up his rhythm, faster now. His hand comes into play, touching his thighs and cupping his balls and fuck; his other hand holds the base of his cock and together with his mouth, Iruka—“Iruka, oh just-just like that please.” He’s not going to last. Fuck, he never lasts long with Iruka but this… this is turning out to be embarrassingly short.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna. Please. Iruka, Love, I know you don’t like—oh-oh-aah—like to swallow, but-but can I come in your mouth? Please, please don’t stop, please,” Kakashi knows he’s practically sobbing, but it’s staggering how wonderful this is, and he wants to come so bad but he’ll hold back until he has Iruka’s permission.

One tap on his hip. He waits. And waits. No… no second tap.

One tap means yes.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, oh yes, Iruka—!”

The flood of come in his mouth, while he is prepared for it, is still extremely unpleasant. He holds Kakashi’s dick as it pulses, until his mouth is full, and then he quickly pulls off and continues getting him off with his hand. He turns his head aside, pulls close a box of tissues from under his nightstand, grabs a handful, and spits. Once his mouth is clear, he pulls another few tissues from the box and starts cleaning Kakashi up.

He made quite the mess. Iruka smiles. His chest is heaving through his glow, both eyes gently closed. Iruka wipes away come from his groin and off his softening cock, also sopping up a bit that landed on his stomach. He bends over and presses a kiss to Kakashi’s navel, and says, “Be right back.”

Kakashi hums in response.

Iruka chuckles, and leaves for the bathroom. Tissues are fine to get rid of much of the mess, but it won’t clean up the residue. Plus, even if he didn’t just have come in his mouth, he’d have to brush his teeth.

He brushes quickly, washes his face, and as he lifts his head to look in the mirror—his heart stops.

“Sucking someone else off doesn’t mean I don’t still own you.”

Iruka turns, arm tight in a fist and aimed for the throat. But—all he hits is air.

All he hits…

Oh.

Iruka sags back against the vanity. He’s gone so long without sleep he’s hallucinating. He thought he saw—Mizuki—

A hand shoves the bathroom door open, Kakashi there with sharingan open and a kunai in hand. He takes in the room quickly, and then steps in and stands in front of Iruka. “I felt killing intent,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Iruka, through a rapidly drying mouth, mutters, “Just. I think I really need to get some sleep. Sorry. Thanks for coming and checking on me.”

Kakashi slowly crosses the bathroom to him, and presses a kiss to his forehead; he says, “If you’re sure,” and then leads them out.

Iruka fights the chill that runs down his spine as he turns off the light. He lays down, rests his head on Kakashi’s shoulder, and breathes in his partner’s comforting scent. All the while, he accepts being bundled in lithe arms and a thin blanket.

“Sure I can’t reciprocate?” Kakashi asks, voice hopeful.

“Not tonight,” Iruka mutters, pressing a kiss to Kakashi’s collarbone.

Maybe, if I can get some sleep… soon

He closes his eyes and lets his breath even out.

Kakashi wakes to someone flaring their chakra—he’s instantly alert and hovering protectively over Iruka, reaching for the same kunai he had grabbed earlier, kept at the edge of the mattress. He takes in the room quickly, searching for the threat… and finding none.

Below him, Iruka whimpers in his sleep, and his chakra flares. Kakashi sets the kunai down and eases himself back to Iruka’s side. A glance at the alarm clock shows that they’d barely been asleep for an hour. There are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes; Kakashi carefully brushes them away.

“I’m here, love,” he murmurs. “It’s just a dream.”

He lays an arm over Iruka’s waist to draw him closer—

Iruka, still asleep, pushes back. He thrashes, grits his teeth and nearly screams; Kakashi takes his wrists to keep Iruka from hitting him.

“Iruka, dear, wake up,” he tries again. Iruka, now on his back with Kakashi hovering over him again, his wrists pinned by his head, tosses his head side to side, crying in his sleep. It makes Kakashi’s chest hurt to see his partner so scared, so pained. “Love, please; it’s just a dream, shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you—”

Iruka’s chakra flares dangerously, like it does when he’s about to activate a seal. But there’s no…

That’s never stopped him before.

Kakashi flickers away from Iruka, across the room, landing in front of the closet in a crouch. Just in time, it seems—the modified barrier seal pops into place where he had just been. The seal hangs, empty, like a bubble, for two or three seconds; and then flickers away once it registers the lack of a captured chakra signature.

Iruka’s breath stutters from the bed and the crying quiets; Kakashi approaches carefully. His hands are covering his face, and he’s turned onto his side, curled gently in Kakashi’s direction.

“Iruka?”

He sniffles, curls tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Are you awake?”

Iruka nods. “Gods, I hope I am.”

Kakashi frowns. “Have you been having night terrors like this since you moved in?”

Iruka doesn’t answer immediately, but eventually shrugs. He takes his hands away from his face. “Not always… like that. Sometimes I remember the dreams. Those times are worse, honestly.”

“You don’t remember what happened just now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “Just the fear. The horrible, overwhelming fear.”

Kakashi sits on the bed beside Iruka and lays a hand on his shoulder. “What do you dream about, when you remember?”

“I… Kakashi, I’m just tired, can we do this tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re just going to have another nightmare or night terror as soon as you fall back asleep.” Kakashi usually wouldn’t press, but that… that honestly shook him a bit, seeing Iruka in the throes of his night terror. Talking about it won’t make it magically go away, but maybe Kakashi can help ease his mind a little.

Iruka sighs. “It’s so stupid.”

“Love.”

“Just. It’s Sato, okay? I don’t know, a change of scenery and now I’m just. Thinking about it again.”

Kakashi glowers. He leans down and presses a harsh kiss to Iruka’s hair, his temple, gently nudges him to his back so he can reach the rest of his jaw and face. “We never have to worry about that again.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never let that happen to you again.”

“Don’t promise me that,” Iruka says. “You can’t promise me that.”

“I’ll promise you what I need to to make you feel safe.”

“Promise to try your best. Promise to do everything you can.” Iruka sniffles, and wipes at his face, and then with his other hand he carefully cups Kakashi’s face. “I love you, but you can’t always be at my side. You can’t promise to keep me perfectly safe; that’s not how the world works.”

Kakashi leans into Iruka’s hand, turns his face and kisses his palm. “I’ll keep you in one of your own barrier seals if I have to,” Kakashi whispers with a grin, knowing Iruka will hear the humor in his voice.

Iruka, indeed, chuckles. “If you can even use them.” He tugs on Kakashi’s hand, and Kakashi comes back to lay down next to him. “I don’t remember having more than one dream each night,” he mutters. “We should be okay for the rest of the night.”

Kakashi hums and leans his head on Iruka’s chest. His pulse is finally settling down. He closes his eyes again and falls back asleep to Iruka pushing fingers through his hair.

Iruka gets the mail again the next day, finally feeling mildly refreshed after sleeping most of the night. Kakashi left before he was supposed to leave for school, so he didn’t have to explain himself at least. There’s only one letter in his box, unmarked with a forwarding stamp and in a standard white envelope, not the blue ones in which utility bills are sent. It’s been twelve days in this new place; maybe it’s from his landlady. She mentioned sending her tenants bills for rent around mid-month, to remind them to pay by the first.

It’s not.

He gets inside, and the letter is return-addressed from the Konoha prison. Iruka leans his back against a wall and scrubs a hand down his face. Looks at the letter in his hand, then to the ceiling, and back to the letter.

He puts it down on the kitchen table. This is going to need some pre-emptive cleaning.

After the kotatsu has been vacuumed and the quilt changed, all the floors swept and mopped, and every piece of wooden furniture Iruka owns has been polished—only then does he dare look at the contents of the letter, undoubtedly from Mizuki.

He takes it in quickly. And then he drops the paper and slides back out of his chair and turns to tuck his face into the sink to throw up.

Mizuki wants him to visit. For a conjugal visit, specifically.

He can’t… he can’t keep this to himself now.

He rinses his mouth, gathers his wits and the letter, and then also grabs the letter from under the table in the genkan. He takes his time putting his vest and hitai-ate on.

Iruka heaves a sigh, and leaves his home.

Rikona-sensei said he can visit anytime in an emergency. This… this feels like an emergency. He feels floaty and loose, like he could slip away and dissociate at any time. He hopes he makes it to the hospital first.

Kakashi is just about to take the mission scroll from Tsunade when a rapid, unrepentant knocking comes on the office doors. Tsunade motions for Shizune to let whoever it is in, and keeps holding the scroll out for Kakashi regardless.

“My apologies, Tsunade-sama,” the hospital messenger says, bowing deeply. Then, she turns to Kakashi and says, “I have a message for you, Kakashi-san.”

Kakashi turns and gives the messenger his attention, leaving the scroll hanging from Tsunade’s fingers. “Go ahead.”

“As of 14:21 today, Umino Iruka has checked himself into mental health crisis care with Rikona-sensei. He’s listed you as his emergency contact for the duration of his stay.”

Kakashi dropped his hand away from the scroll. “I’m needed elsewhere,” he says, and waits only until Tsunade gives him a single nod before jumping out of the window and bounding across the village to the hospital.

What the fuck happened between last night and this afternoon that Iruka felt the need to-to—

He should have stayed. He should have slept in, should have held him longer, tighter. Whatever happened, Kakashi could have stopped it. Could have prevented it.

...Right?

He stops at the front doors and walks in, waving to the nurses at the administration desk while he moves to the stairs. Rikona-sensei’s office is on the third floor, along with the rest of the mental health clinic.

When he gets there, it’s quiet. Not many people use the mental health services the village has, himself included. But there are a smattering of civilians, and a single pre-teen genin bouncing her knee anxiously while she sits in a corner. The admission desk has a receptionist filing paperwork in manila folders. Kakashi taps on the desk to get her attention.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

“No,” he says, “I’m here to see Rikona-sensei about my partner, Umino—”

“Rikona-sensei is in crisis management right now and is unreachable,” the receptionist drawls. “If you want to leave a message I’ll see that she gets it as soon as she’s available.”

“Miss.”

“Hmm?”

“Please look at me.”

She rolls her eyes behind her glasses, tosses pale blonde hair back over her shoulder, and picks up her chin to finally look at him. Her eyes bulge and her mouth drops open—just a bit, just enough to notice.

“Hatake-sama,” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“I’m here. To see my partner, Umino Iruka. He’s with Rikona-sensei. Please, could you point me in the right direction, that I could go see him?”

She visibly collects herself, and then says, “I’m very sorry, Hatake-sama. But Umino-sensei is in crisis. That means he can’t be disturbed until Rikona-sensei gives him a clean bill of health, or unless the Hokage overrides and calls him to service.” She ducks her head and pulls out a folder, opening and seeming to reference it. “He did list you as an emergency contact, so if his health takes a turn for the worse you’ll be notified, and if he becomes unable to make decisions regarding his own care you’ll be brought in to conference with Rikona-sensei to decide the direction of his treatment. Until then, the best thing you can do is be patient and wait for a messenger.”

Kakashi sighs. It was worth a shot.

He shrugs, and turns away. He takes a careful, chakra-enhanced sniff; Iruka’s scent is faint, but here, and tinged with fear-sweat. Kakashi leaves the clinic waiting room like he’s going to follow the receptionist’s instructions, and once he’s in the hallway he ducks out a window and walks along the outside of the building until he comes to the window where Iruka’s scent is strongest.

He stays beside it, not daring to look inside yet. The fear-scent lingers in the air here. Rikona must have aired out the room recently.

Kakashi flares his chakra, knowing that Iruka will feel it.

…

And then a small flicker comes back in return, and Kakashi can breathe easy again.

“I need. I need to know how he found me.”

“As soon as you’re calm, I will find that out for you,” Rikona says.

She closes the window and sits back down beside him. He'd needed air flow just a minute ago, but now that the panic threat has passed, he asked her to close it again.

He should have grabbed his fūinjutsu kit before leaving the house. He needs to seal the room.

“I am as calm as I'm going to get,” Iruka says.

“You have been having a moderate anxiety attack since we settled in this room. You are safe here.”

“I was supposed to be safe at home!”

“Iruka-sensei, please. I understand your frustration, but yelling is only going to work yourself up even more. You need to settle yourself.”

“When can I see Kakashi?”

“When you’re out of crisis.”

Iruka gets up and paces the width of the small office. “What if. What if he never stopped.”

“Iruka—”

“What if he has other people following me, watching me. ‘Did you really think leaving would rid you of me.’ Of course not,” Iruka laughs. “Of course he wouldn’t let me just-just move—”

“Mizuki is in prison. He has had no control over you for years, if he ever had any at all,” Rikona says. “Moving was a choice you made, not only to get away from the memories of Mizuki in your old apartment, but there were other reasons, were there not?”

Iruka pants, his rant having been halted but his heart still pounding. He stops his pacing and taps his fingers against crossed arms. “I… yeah, but—”

“What were those reasons?”

“I really don’t—”

“Saying them aloud again would be beneficial. Please, sit. Fidget, if you must. But sit.”

Iruka takes the other chair and faces the window. Drumming his fingers along his arm and fighting back a flush, he says, “Naruto is going to need a bigger room when he comes home.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“Kakashi likes to cook, and my old kitchen wasn’t… he commented that it didn’t have a lot of counter space.”

“And the new house, you made sure it has plenty of space in the kitchen for your partner.”

“He loves the new kitchen,” Iruka says.

“Anything else?”

“The yard.” Iruka stops fidgeting, shifting forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Kakashi’s ninken ran laps around it the first day for three hours. The whole pack. They’re so sweet. You know they call me ‘Boss’s Boss’?”

Rikona laughs. “High praise, I’m sure.”

“Kakashi hates it,” Iruka chuckles along softly. “He was like, ‘My boss is the Hokage?!’ and Pakkun—he’s the pack beta, I think?—he says, ‘yeah, for missions. At home, Sensei’s Boss.’”

Rikona reaches out for his wrist. He lets her touch his pulse quietly for a few seconds. She smiles.

“Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Iruka leaves his hand palm up on his lap within easy reach. With his other hand he rubs at his scar. “It just… it felt like the time. I’d been in that apartment since after the Kyūbi attack. Mizuki moved out as soon as he could, but I… I stayed. I liked the stability. Until I was chūnin it was subsidized by the village, so I could spend my money how I needed instead of worrying about rent. Now, though…”

“Now?”

Iruka sucks in a breath. “Now I’m moving forward. I have Naruto when he comes home, and I have a place for him when he gets here. And… and if I’m ever ready to take the step to ask Kakashi to move in with me, I’ve already secured a house that I know he likes.”

“You’re providing for your future. That’s amazing progress.”

“But Mizuki—”

“Is behind bars in the village prison. He is not a threat.” Rikona takes his wrist again, frowns, and says, “I want you to say that aloud for me.”

“He sent me letters. He knows where I live. The prison shouldn’t have been updated on my address change before the post office—”

“Deep breaths. I understand your concern, and I will help you figure out what has happened. But Mizuki is not a threat. He is in prison. I want you to say that.”

Iruka hugs himself with his free arm. “Mizuki is not a threat. He’s in prison.”

“Can you trust in our system?”

“Yes, but—”

A brief flare of chakra interrupts his thought. He knows that chakra. He fights the smile that tries to creep onto his face.

“But?”

Kakashi

He can see Kakashi once he’s out of crisis

“Yes, I’m sorry.” He flickers his chakra, directing it to the window. “I’m. Yes. Okay. Please, just… I need to know how he found me.”

Rikona nods, and takes his wrist again. She smiles. “I’m going to get you some medicine, to help keep you relaxed. And then we’ll go see Tsunade-sama.”

She leaves and locks the door behind her from the outside, like he’s not a shinobi and doesn’t know how to pick a lock. Once she’s gone, he darts over to the window and opens it. He sticks his head out and looks to each side, but Kakashi’s not—

“Hello, Love.”

He smiles and turns his face skywards. Kakashi holds himself to the hospital wall with one hand and both feet, and then eases his way down to the open windowsill and perches on the edge. Iruka backs up and makes room, but doesn’t let Kakashi come into the office.

“Are you alright?” Kakashi asks.

Iruka’s instinct is to say that he’s fine, and he opens his mouth to say it; but a glance at the deeply worried look in Kakashi’s eye changes his mind. “Not… no.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Don’t do anything rash?”

“Don’t do… Iruka, what happened?” Kakashi's eye turns dark and he lifts his palm to press along Iruka’s cheek.

He shakes his head. “Please, just—”

“No, Iruka.”

He is stopped, both of Kakashi’s hands on his face now.

“You. You’re in crisis management. I’m not even supposed to be here, not even allowed to see you yet. You don’t—you don’t get to just tell me to hold off, or stay back. I’m here to help you. Please, gods, let me help.”

Did you really think leaving would rid you of me

Sucking someone else off doesn't mean I don’t still own you

…Conjugal visit…

“I need to do this myself, Kakashi,” Iruka murmurs. He leans forward to press their foreheads together and continues, “Just keep… keep being steady for me. I need you to be a safe, sturdy place for me to fall in case this all goes wrong.”

Kakashi whines softly. “I don’t like it. I want to help.”

“You are helping.”

“More. I need to help you more.”

“Kiss me?”

Kakashi doesn’t take down his mask, but presses their lips together anyway. Iruka melts into the kiss regardless, and then trails his mouth up to Kakashi’s eye and kisses his brow.

“Please trust me. I’ll tell you everything once it’s over.”

“I do trust you.” Kakashi sighs. “Please, though. If you need me, send for me. I’m going to stay in the village until you’re okay.”

Iruka nudges their noses together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns to the door. “Rikona-sensei is coming back. I have to go.”

“Water my plants for me?”

“Of course, Love.” Kakashi leans in and kisses him once more, and then falls off of the windowsill. Iruka watches him go, crossing his arms and resting his shoulder against the open window.

The office door opens and Rikona comes in. In one hand she holds a cup of water, and in the other a small orange pill. “Are you ready, Iruka-sensei?”

He sighs quietly, and closes the window, then turns to her. He takes the pill, drinks the entire cup of water, and then sighs, “Yes. Lead the way, please.”

#whumpmasinjuly #secret #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

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