#shes a panicked gorl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

d0llpie · 3 years

Note

hi its ya gorl seijoh hoe 🤠 how would they all (separately or as a group) react to the reader when she gets protective n savage toward a crappy guy who treated her friend like trash n she talks to the guys abt it?/ love the blog btw <3

Reacting to you slapping a guy

Characters: Oikawa x reader, Iwaizumi x reader, Matsukawa x reader & Hanamaki x reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating, nudes, swearing

a/n: Hiii i made y/n slap the guy cause he was an ass✋🏻 hope you enjoy love :) ,,,also some are in high school and some aren’t so sorry if that’s confusing <33

wc: 2.8k

Oikawa

- Your friend had recently broken up with your boyfriend and Oikawa wanted to come tell you about the rumours he’d been spreading

“No f/n, you were right to dump him he can’t expect you to stay with him when he’s never making dates and only hanging out with you when he’s drunk. That’s not a relationship” you were getting fired up just thinking about how much of a dick your friends ex was. “I know y/n, i just...i feel like i’m gonna regret it i mean i still love him, i know i shouldn’t but..” she sighed and shrugged and you held her hands comfortingly, you knew this was hard but having to build her up after every fight they had was breaking your heart and you were glad she finally managed to cut ties with him. “I know, you’ll be okay, i’ll be here the whole time m’kay? so will tooru and i’m sure he knows someone if you want to go out and have fun to get over him..” you playfully nudged her and she giggled, you were happy to finally see her seem happy. “I dont need rebound sex y/n” she rolled her eyes and you laughed together before your boyfriend, Oikawa approached you both seeming uncharacteristically nervous.

You both looked up at him expectantly “hi tooru, something wrong baby?” he sat down next to you and smiled sweetly at f/n “uh, you broke up with ex/n recently right?” your eyes widened and you slapped Toorus arm “it’s okay y/n, i figured you’d tell him anyway, i don’t mind..and yeah i did, why?” you glared at Oikawa and he laughed awkwardly “well, he’s behind the gym, i was taking a break from practise and heard your name so i listened and he was saying..things...” you looked over at your friend who was growing more anxious by the minute. You knew she’d have a million thoughts running through her head, regretting the break up. You frowned before turning to Oikawa “what things Tooru?” you were growing more frustrated by the second, thinking about that asshole. “His friend asked him about the break up and he said he broke it off cause you wanted more than sex..” Oikawa offered an apologetic smile before rubbing her shoulder “he WHAT?”.

While Oikawa was trying to comfort your friend you were seeing white, blind with rage as you stormed off ignoring your boyfriend calling you. “We should follow her, something bad is going to happen..” Tooru dragged your friend behind you as you continued on your path to the gym. That asshole couldn’t handle being dumped so he lied? what a fucking joke. You were muttering under your breath, effectively clearing the people in front of you away as the avoided your furious aura.

“Oi ex/n!” he turned around with a smug grin on his face and his friends whistled and laughed, clealry entertained “Y/n, what do i owe the p-“ he was cut off by the loud bang of your fist connecting with the bridge of his nose. He stumbled back, holding his nose as a few drops of blood hit the floor, you shook your hand, adrenaline coursing through you “you bitch!” he took a few steps towards you but you were pulled back into a firm chest “Uh, we’ll be leaving now. Don’t bother telling anyone or i’ll let the whole school know about what really happened, including your tiny dick.” Oikawa smiled widely at them before dragging you away.

When you were sitting back with your friend and Oikawa she hugged you tightly “y/n, i fucking love you” you both laughed while Oikawa stood there staring at you “ahem?” he cleared his throat. “Hi baby...?” he sighed before grabbing your hand and pressing a soft kiss against each knuckle “your adrenaline is going to go away and this is going to hurt, i’m getting you ice..f/n, make sure she stays put.” He began to stand up but you grabbed his wrist, wincing slightly “i’m sorry for making you worry Tooru” you leant down pressing a kiss to your forehead “don’t be sorry, i love how much you care about your friends, i just don’t want you hurt, i’m sure he’s worse off though, you threw a good punch i can’t wait to tell Iwa!” you both laughed before he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead, jogging off towards the gym again to grab an ice pack.

“Ugh you guys are so in love it’s gross” you friend pretended to throw up and you laughed at her “yeah” you smiled cheesily and she smiled too, she was happy you had someone so perfect for you.

Iwaizumi

You were having a night out with your best friend since she was feeling down. Her boyfriend had been distant lately so you offered to take her to a club Iwaizumi and you had gone to once to blow off some steam.

You both dressed up took some pictures before heading out. You were happy to distract your friend, she was already feeling better and excited to go out with you. You texted Iwaizumi letting him know you’ll probably crash at f/n’s house and sending him some pictures. He told you he’d stay up and wait for you to text him you got in safe anyway.

When you arrived you bought some drinks for you both and she sculled it down before moving to the dance floor, you watched amused from the bar. You felt someone staring holes into your side and so you turned to meet a very guilty face, with his arm wrapped around some girl. She was looking up at him confused “baby what’s wrong?” you scoffed audibly before making your way over to them. If your friend noticed your absence you didn’t see.

“You know, i wish i could say i was surprised...” he rolled his eyes, guilty expression vanishing as he tightened his arm around the girls waist. “So you’re the girlfriend?” you turned to look down at the girl as she scowled at you and you almost laughed. “Oh so she knows, and no sweetie i’m not.” “I am.” you turned around shocked to see your friend on the verge of tears behind you, looking heartbroken. You felt your stomach drop, you turned around to look at her now ex, wanting the Earth to open up and swallow him whole for being the reason your friend felt like this.

You don’t know what happened but suddenly your palm was red and stinging, raised into the air and he was holding his jaw, fury in his eyes. F/n grabbed your arm, quickly running out towards to the exit. “Y/n, you’re such a badass what the fuck was that?” she laughed loudly, it sounded nice despite her ruined make up and red eyes. “Are you okay?” you asked, taking out your phone to text Iwaizumi, her laugh died down and she nodded, tearing up again before hugging you. You rubbed her back soothingly.

Y/n: Hi baby, soo night out has been cut short, can you come pick us up? f/n is staying the night also hurry there’s an angry blonde girl trying to find us

Iwa: explain when i pick you up. i love you.

Y/n: mhm i love you too <3

A few minutes passed and f/n had stopped crying and was sniffling, sitting in the floor deleting photos of her ex. You heard obnoxious clicking of heels and looked to see her ex and his new girlfriend walking towards you both. You cursed under your breath, alerting f/n to the two new presences. You saw Iwaizumi’a car approaching and when he saw your panicked face he sped up, parking right in front of f/n. He guided f/n to the back seat, letting her lie down, guessing by the sight of her ex boyfriend holding another girls hand what had happened. He could see the way they looked like they were trying to kill you with their glares and came to stand beside you, “can we help you?” he wrapped a protective arm around your middle, smiling sarcastically. “Yeah, control your bitch she fucking slapped me.” he chuckled dryly and Iwaizumis grip tightened, “y/n get in the car.” you gripped his arm “zumi don’t, he isn’t worth it he’s pathetic” he looked down to see your pleading gaze and he sighed, kissing your forehead before turning and walking you both back to the car. “Hey-“ “Shut up man, you lost a good one.” Your friends ex walked off angrily and you both got in the car.

After a few minutes of driving, Iwaizumi rested his hand on your thigh, you could tell he was tense so you rubbed his hand “relax baby, i’m okay..” he relaxed his shoulders and loosened his other hand on the steering wheel. “I know but he’s an ass and i don’t trust him” he was stroking your thigh trying to calm himself down. You looked behind to see f/n “hi, you feeling okay ?” she nodded, smiling at you. “Iwaizumi i just thought you should know she did hit him pretty hard” you both giggled and iwaizumi squeezed your leg, letting out a loud laugh as he brought your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You spent the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch with your best friend while Iwaizumi made you both food and put on some movies. Iwaizumi watched you both from the kitchen, admiring you taking care of your friend with a love sick grin on his face.

Matsukawa

You were at your best friends apartment waiting for your food to arrive, you were having dinner with her and sleeping over since she just broke up with her boyfriend. They’d been together for ages, he even introduced you to your boyfriend Issei, eventually he got toxic and started preventing your friend from hanging out with you guys.

The door bell rang and you sprung up to go answer it, “i got it, stay here but pause the movie.” you opened the door revealing your boyfriend looking down at you. “Hi baby” you chuckled, surprised as he pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head before moving to the lounge room where f/n was.

“Hi f/n, i’m sorry for coming over unannounced but have you spoken to ex/n recently?” she sent you a worried glance and you sat down next to her “Uh you guys aren’t together anymore are you?” you shook your head no and he paused. “Look, i’m really sorry f/n, i was on snapchat and he posted a...photo of you on his private..” she pulled out her phone hastily swiping through, she was stressed as a million thoughts clouded her mind “he removed me...” you looked over to issei who took out his phone.

You held his phone and opened the story, it was f/n naked on a bed with a caption “new whore on the market”, the next was a video of him and some friends at a park, one you recognised. F/n snatched the phone from your hand and started shaking, you gripped the pillow beside you, growing enraged at how far he went and how stressed your friend was. You stood up and walked out of the apartment, Issei followed behind you questioning you. You ignored him and got into his car, driving to the park. Issei stood in the driveway dumbfounded “f/n, y/n’s gone crazy again where’s your car?” f/n was crying now, she came out and pointed to her car parked across the street and Issei guided her to it, rubbing her back to try and calm her down.

You pulled up in front of the park and stepped out of the car, one of his friends snickered “damn she didn’t bring f/n with her, i mean they’re not bad either” they started to laugh and you ignored the growing pit in your stomach, approaching ex/n. The smug look on his face only antagonised your further as he leaned back against the fence. You wanted to wipe that look off his face so you brought your balled fist up and connected it with his jaw. He fell back further into the fence and as held your fist in your hand. His friends started to approach you, you didn’t hear a car door slamming over your own shriek when a firm arm gripped your upper arm. You winced as the grip tightening before an arm encased your middle “issei?” the man loosened his grip on your arm as Issei towered over him. “Let go.” his face looked calm, mocking almost but his voice was dripping with venom and the man let go. “Great.” Issei lifted you up and hauled you over his shoulder putting you in the car.

“Issei i’m sorry i know i shouldn’t have hit him but he was such an ass and f/n didn’t deserve that..” he furrowed his brows as he drove “i’m not mad” you looked at him “really?” he threw his head back and let out a laugh “babe are you serious? you were so badass, if you didn’t hit him i would’ve anyway” you smiled up at him and giggled “are you okay though?” you nodded and he glanced over at you.

After going back to f/n’s house, Issei iced your hand and pressed a few kisses to your upper arm where a small bruise was forming. “I love you, so much baby, i’ll see you later okay? Take care f/n, i’m really sorry, it’s been taken down” she nodded and offered him a smile and you hugged him in return “i love you too, i’ll text you okay?” he smirked at you before kissing you quickly.

F/n and you binged some shitty rom coms and did some face masks while trying to relax after a stressful day.

Hanamaki (sorry his is kind of short)

You were walking around with Makki after your date night, going to get ice cream. “Makki its this way, we’ve been here before!” you attempted to drag your boyfriend by the arm “babe it’s this way, i think i would know” he rolled his eyes “Makki i stg, you’ll see you’re wrong” you stuck out your tongue and he kissed it quickly, you scrunched up your face and wiped it “you’re gross” you both laughed until you heard someone yelling.

You turned to see your best friend looking down at the ground while her boyfriend yelled at her, throwing his arms up and growing more and more frustrated. “Y/n, isn’t that f/n, what the fuck?” Makki started approaching the couple and you quickly followed behind. “Makki wait, he’s really angry what’re you going to do?” you held onto his sleeve as he sped up.

F/n, Matsukawa, you and Makki had been friends for years, attending middle school together and high school. When you and Makki got together you remained friends but f/n quickly grew away from you when she got a boyfriend, barely returning texts, avoiding you at school. You didn’t understand why but you had a feeling it wasn’t malicious, you never liked her boyfriend anyway, so you weren’t mad at her. In fact, despite the circumstances, you were happy to see her, you’d missed her. Makki also missed her, the dynamic the four of you had, he hated her boyfriend.

“Makki? Y/n?” f/n looked up to see you both approaching her angrily. “Oi, can you not pay attention to me for once jesus this is why you were single for so long” your friend cast her gaze back down and you felt a rage bubble up inside you. You’d spent many nights with Makki wondering why f/n hadn’t been speaking with you much, assuming the worst about her boyfriend while Makki joked about him, assuring you he’d never act that way and here he was confirming your theories. You could see Makki tense up before he grabbed his collar “What the fuck do you think you’re doing talking to her like that” he turned to look at Makki and when he did you swung your hand, slapping him. His head whipped back as Makki loosened his grip, turning to you with a massive grin “damn, nice one babe” before he shoved him to the ground grabbing f/n and running away.

You both laughed loudly, dragging f/n away, after a few minutes of running you stopped. “Babe, i told you the ice cream shop was the other way” you whined before you heard sniffling beside you, “f/n...are you okay, i’m sorry i didn’t help you sooner, i wasn’t sure and i’m sorry he was treating you so badly and i didn’t know..” you looked down, grabbing her hands, she smiled at you tearily before pulling you into a hug. Makki joined in, hugging you both as she whispered into your chest “i’ve missed you guys, so, so much.” you laughed with her “i miss you too, stay the night will you? We have ice cream at home” Makki groaned as you sent him a glare “c’mon you two, i’ll call Mattsun, it’s about time we all caught up.” you both nodded and began walking home together.

417 notes · View notes

makeusfreefromthisfandom · 3 years

Text

How They Snapchat

A/n: yes I did everyone bc why not 😌✨ long post ahead but I had a lot of fun doing these! I hope you have just as much fun reading them!

❥Iwatobi

Haru

Is he even on Snapchat?

Lmao

He was forced to by Rin before he left for Australia

Haru forgets about it. The only time he posts are when he’s out with Rin and it’s Rin who’s the one posting for him

Makoto

Cats!

Omg he’s going to be posting snaps of him and the neighborhood cat

But he’s also posting snaps of him and Haru

most of the time it’s a Nagisa take over and Makoto’s memories are FILLED with Nagisa’s snaps and random videos

He won’t ever delete them ahaha

He’s the type who’s snap is always messing up lolol and he starts panicking about it too 😭

Never the one to leave you on read. A true king.

Nagisa

Ooffff

Yk those people on snap who have like 5 different private stories and are CONSTANTLY posting on ALL of them and somehow you are also on ALL of them

Yeah...

That feature on snap where you just swipe up to be added to someone’s private story? Nagisa is always doing that

There’s no point of calling it a private anymore

Also a spammer, doesn’t care if you do streaks or not

He’s the type who posts videos and pictures of his friends OFF GUARD OMG HES THOSE TYPE OF PEOPLE AJSJSJJSJS

And he gets it at JUST the right moment

poor Rei

Filters. Not the ones that make you look good. The weird ass ones.

Oh also that big mouth filter is his fav (yk the one that everyone uses when they need to rant ajsjsjsjsj)

Can you imagine him on tik tok LMFAO

Rei

Aesthetics ✨

Sunset/sky pics

Also it’s basically Nagisa running his snap too

Selfie e’rryday (courtesy of Nagisa ofc)

Gou

Selfies with the galsssss😆😝

So many swim team memories 🥺

Nagisa likes doing the whole “amosc” thing on her story too without her knowing xb

Has a private story but Rin’s not apart of it 😌🤚🏽

He gets super butthurt when he finds out tho bc the rest of the guys are

Why hasn’t she blocked Momo yet?😭😭😭

SHE DOESNT WANT TO SEE YOUR BEETLE MY GUY

I feel like she rants but she doesn’t even use that one filter to do it. The gorl says what she’s gotta say

But she still likes using the cute little filters tho <3

The group chat maker.

❥Samezuka

Rin

11:11 snaps

He has a whole separate private story for his sad hours and quotes

Late night workout/gym pics. With the time sticker

Also he’s the type to be posting selfies of him and his buddies too :b

snaps of his music

sad playlists

Thinks streaks are stupid but probably does them anyways ajsjsjjsjsjs especially if it’s someone he’s crushing on

ALWAYS checking Gou’s stories bc protective brother things

Always flashing his signature sharky grin

Those people that are confident and intimidating on snap but in reality they’re baby and soft🥺

Sousuke

Black screens.

Ceiling snaps.

leaves you on read

but it’s bc he doesn’t know what to even reply with

Doesn’t really snap like that, he mostly just has it so that it’s another way to keep in touch with acquaintances and friends

Will once in awhile get snaps from Aii and Momo which he’ll just laugh and smile to

Aii

He has a group chat on there for the swim team

He’ll send snaps to Rin and Sousuke sometimes

Cant quite get out of Nagisa’s snap spamming tho, he’s considered blocking

Momo

Do I even need to say anything?

Pyunsuke.

Period.

ITS JUST HIS FREAKIN STAG BEETLE

captions the snaps with things like “isn’t he precious 🥺” “GUYS PYUNSUKE LEARNED A NEW TRICK!!!”

Has a whole story dedicated to “Pyunsuke’s Adventures”

Please all the boys have left that priv story

Aii stays tho bc he’s nice like that

Regrets it everyday.

Also big bro Sei likes to take over his snaps from time to time

Seijuro

He’s got all the fan girls yo 😎🤏🏽

Work out snaps

Swimming snaps in his speedo

Face snaps

He also succeeds in getting selfies with Haru as they’re on the same swim team now 😎🤏🏽

Exposes the younger mikoshibas’ baby pics

NEVER lets the chance go to take a snap when all the mikoshiba siblings reunite

❥Highspeed+Hiyori

Asahi

Inspirational quotes on his mirror selfies

Ooooof Kisumi takeover 24/7

I feel like he’s into aesthetic snaps and phone photography too so yeah lots of coffee shop aesthetics

He still does streaks :b

Forced to have one with Kisumi

Never snaps him back tho

He likes posting his nephew too 🥺

He ends up getting a kick to the face right when he snaps the pic tho

The type to be like “dhmu”

“Only the real ones know”

Kisumi

Has to document all his coffee/food runs

His “vlogs”

Kisumi. Omg KISUMI. He’s that ONE friend who has embarrassing pictures of EVERYONE

Omg you cannot tell me that he’s not a little blackmailer with a smile plastered on his face 24/7

Jkjk

You sly little fox

The exposing type aksjjsjsjsjsjs also my fellow key smasher 😎

That one person who’s always recording at just the right moments

He does streaks too! Although the one with Asahi was completely unintentional and now they’re over 300 days

Pretty selfies all the time! 💖

Has like 1000+ friends and claims to know them all

What can I say, he’s a popular guy~

Ikuya

s t a r s

Askskksksjs

Not the type to really post, more of the type to just watch

An occasional selfie with Hiyori

Sometimes he’ll be sitting at the park or smth with a nice view and he’ll decide to snap a pic

Always has swipe up on Asahi’s stories to remind him of his stupidity

A lot of snaps from Natsuya of his travels or what he’s doing atm

The only person he’ll actually regularly snapback to

Those late night snaps/texts from a special someone never fail to bring a small smile to his lips tho🥺

The type to watch his monthly recaps and 1/2/3 and so on year agos

Natsuya

T r a v e l s

The airport at 4am

The plane

MIRROR SELFIES 🤤

FACE SELFIES 🤤🤤

lots of Nao snaps haha, most of them are saved in his memories tho

He actually has tons of selfies with a bunch of new people that he meets in his travels like Rin!

He also gets Ikuya into taking a selfie with him ;b

HIS SMILE 🥺 omg he’s always flashing a smile in his snaps 🥺

Also doesn’t really do streaks, but he likes to let his close fellas know what he’s doing and where he’s currently at so they unintentionally start anyways

Gets asked for his snap a lot- too bad he’s claimed me as his wife 😙

Nao

Doesn’t really use Snapchat that much unless he’s talking to like the 4 closet people he knows including Natsu

Also more of a watcher than a poster

Wait that sounded wrong akskksks-

Like I mean he watches others’ stories rather than posting stuff on his own

Wait why do I feel like he actually watches those snap stories yk like the buzzfeed ones and dailymail, etc 😭😭

Tends to leave Natsuya on open

Hiyori

Stalks Ikuya on maps

Ok but he doesn’t really post on his story unless it’s a selfie with Ikuya

Or he just wants to share his coffee shop/library aesthetic akaksksksk

More of a memory keeper

Like his memories are definitely filled but he doesn’t always post them

Never leaves you on open. Thinks it’s wrong. Will always snapback/reply 🥺

OH OMG YK WHEN U ACCIDENTALLY POST SOMETHING ON YOUR STORY AND IMMEDIATELY REGRET IT LIKE YK THOSE MOMENTS?

That’s literally Hiyori but he would d i e

LMAO

Too scared to screenshot anything too

I think he also secretly watches those subscription and publisher stories

Taglist: @starbornecentral @enai-jigoku @allieturs @syrenblubs @todominica @kkbear @thatfreeshit @lowkeystasha @animatedarchives @cha0tically0rganized @ourfallenthoughts @akaashirin @ever4wolf (let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

238 notes · View notes

midnight-squirrel · 2 years

Photo

Happy Halloween @yerawizardrikki! I slightly panicked and drew your Twstd Wonderland gorl! She's devilishly cute!

(please do not remove caption or repost/redistribute)

#my art #yerawizardrikki

4 notes · View notes

isabellitah · 4 years

Note

Hi! May I request a headcanon with the reader (number eight) and the siblings, where the reader is like super caring to all of them? Thank you! 💕

🤍 HARGREEVES x SIBLING

Title : babie hen

Pairing : none

Warning : a few cuss words and this is long ok

Request : Hi! May I request a headcanon with the reader (number eight) and the siblings, where the reader is like super caring to all of them? Thank you! 💕

Note : Hiii 🤍 i hope this is to your liking hehe

i made a wholeass scenario before i reread the request and noticed the word hEADCANON SO IM V SORRY THAT THIS WAS DELAYED I-

anyway-

Number Eight-

ah yes, the sweetest babie in the whole world, as mentioned by Klaus at some point in their lives

said babie is also their mother hen- well, aside from Allison that is

Luther Hargreeves

eightie always makes sure that Luther never overworks himself

and when he does, your always there for him

making sure he’s hydrated

feeding him lil snacks so that he isn’t starving

i bet you sliced off the crusts of the sandwich bc we all know Luther can be a big babie too hmph

and you’re just overall being there for him, supporting him like any sister would do for their older brother

but when he tries to over overwork himself, which is rare as it only happens when he’s anxious about something, you bet your ass you trapped him in a water sphere and nyoomed him to his room and onto his bed- basically forcing him to rest gorl he’s wet he has to shower before napping but ok-

now that that big babie is in his room, time to check on big babie number two-

Diego Hargreeves

Diego- the lil menace currently chasing Klaus with knives for who knows what reason

you weren’t even gonna ask

it’s nothing new

but anway-

you called them for snacks thus ending their “game of tag”

game of tag my ass-

more like pin the dagger on Klaus

while eating the sandwiches you made them, you noticed a lil bit of jam on the corner of Diego’s mouth

the moment Klaus ran off after eating his sandwich, and Diego stood up to follow him, you took a napkin, licked it a bit, and wiped the jam off of Diego’s face

lil murderous babie blushed and whined at you to stop

you kept wiping at his skin as though the jam was still there just to play with him

anyway, after you stopped, he quickly left to - maybe - go find Klaus

before he left though, he turned to you, wrapped his arms around you, mumbled a quick “thank you eightie” and ran off

keeping in mind where your three siblings are, you decided to go find Allison

Allison Hargreeves

surprisingly, you find both Allison panicking in her room

apparently Luther asked her out and she doesn’t know what to wear, how to style her hair, how to do her make-up, should she wear ma-

she was freaking out bc she never thought Luther would gather his wits and actually ask her out !!!

she wasn’t prepared ok

and u forced Luther to sleep i- reminder to wake him up later

maybe he tried to over overwork himself bc he’s nervous about their date oop

you immediately entered the room and shut the door behind you

first date, so it should be a good experience ok

keeping this in mind, you calmly told her to sit down on her bed and take sips of from the glass of water beside her bed

going through her closet and picking out a casual outfit was easy- Allison has great taste so it wasn’t a challenge at all

clothes and shoes done, and Allison is now calm

you gently lead her to her vanity and slowly started doing a half-up half-down hairdo

for her makeup, you went with a natural makeup- neutral eyeshadow, mascara, a bit of blush, and red lipstick

dress on, heels on, hair done, makeup done, sister immaculate

you were done

simple yet elegant- was how she looked

standing behind the seated woman known as your sister, you slightly teared up- you don’t know why exactly but you-

you felt like a proud mom aww

Allison hugged you and thank you profusely

“Don’t you dare ruin my masterpiece,” you threatened with a wink

you were rewarded with a giggle and a smile

dismissing yourself while she went ahead and took selfies,

you immediately went to go look for Luther i-

after waking him up, it wasn’t hard to stop his whining and convince him to start moving,

you just had to remind him of his date with Allison

and poof

mans was gone

nah not really- he just went to go change

anyway-

now that you think about it- how’s Klaus?

with that thought in mind, you went out of Luther’s room in search of your high brother

Klaus Hargreeves

you found him in the wine cellar

of course

“Klaus, what’re you doing here?”

“Eightie! Fancy seeing you here 🤍 how are you? I haven’t seen you since you fed me that sandwich- great sandwich by the way; the filling was mwah chef’s kiss,”

he said smiling while holding onto vodka 🤍

you internally rolled your eyes and grabbing his wrist, led him upstairs and into his room

you sat down on his bed with your back comfortably resting on his headrest

he just stood their looking resigned

he knew what was about to happen

you do this at least once a week

secretly he was happy though

these weekly talks always made him feel light by the end of the conversation

anyway, he laid down with his head onto your lap

the moment you started combing your hand through his hair, he spilled everything that bothered him

how his power still scared him- seeing the dead anywhere and everywhere

some trying to talk to him

some just creepily staring at him

and some- some trying to harm him

and that he sometimes felt useless or like a nobody in the family

how he felt like such a disappointment

you listened to everything - even to the ones he never said out loud - calmly and patiently

and when he was done, you slowly started refuting everything he said with various memories

his powers once helped you both help a lost soul find his way back home

he always tries to lighten the mood whenever the tension in the room gets high

he’s always there for all of you, offering his love, whenever and wherever

he sets back his problems in order to help you all solve your problems first

the more memories you recall, the better Klaus felt about himself

and that’s what mattered

Five, Ben, and Vanya Hargreeves

after staying to talk with Klaus for a bit longer, you excused yourself after he claimed to be taking a nap

walking around, you hear faint rustling from inside the study room

walking in, you see Five, Ben, and Vanya in various positions by the couch

Five was sitting on the floor, back pressed against couch

Ben was leaning against the arm of the couch with his legs on top of Vanya’s

and Vanya was sitting cross legged on the couch

all three were listening to Ben read a poem

a poem possibly written by him considering the book he was reading was journal

you were about to excuse yourself to give them their privacy when Ben called you over and invited you

looking at your other two siblings and receiving a nod, you thanked them and sat on the floor beside Five who then leaned his head onto the top of your head- yes, you were short

Ben continued reading the poem and you were right- it was poem

a poem that seemed to be about his feelings

you were saddened by how he felt when you were younger but hearing how he feels now boosted your mood- especially when you heard that your siblings were a big factor on why he felt happy and motivated nowadays

hearing a faint grumble beside you, you tapped Five’s thigh to get his head off you so that you can get up

after some grumbling and whining from the man-child, you got up and said you’ll be right back

you left after kissing their cheeks, earning a smile and a blush from Ben, a smile from Vanya, and a pout from Five who still didn’t want you to leave

you pinched his cheek for good measure before running off giggling

arriving at the kitchen, you were surprised - but not really - to see Five there

apparently he went into the kitchen “to help you carry things”

sure- he just wanted to see what you’d make

and so you made them all sandwiches and trimmed the sides off of course which earned youa pleased hum from your ever so helpful brother

his sandwich, after his persistence, had two extra marshmallows

after making their sandwiches you convinced him to head on first with them

and once he left, you went on to make tea for yourself, juice for both Ben and Vanya, and your special brew for Five

once entering the room, the tray of drinks was immediately snatched from you and popped onto the table with Five wearing a cat got the canary grin, “ahh the only person in the world who knows how to make a proper blend- aside from me of course.”

you rolled your eyes and thanked him for his rare compliment on your coffee making skills

Ben and Vanya thanked you for the snacks and you beamed at them and kissed their cheeks as a reply

which led to Five asking you where his kiss was

knowing you’ll get nowhere arguing with him, you kissed his cheek while he was in the middle of ranting of why he deserves a kiss too

which led to his rant being cut off and him spluttering while slowly turning red

which led to you, Vanya, and Ben laughing which resulted in Five slowly smiling and joining your laughter as well

and that’s how you spent your afternoon- the four youngest siblings bonding- talking and laughing about anything and everything under the sun until you ran out of topics and just laid in comfortable silence to the point where you all fell asleep

and that’s how the eldest four siblings found you-

Allison placed a blanket over all of you before leaving with Luther to go on their date

Diego took the trays, plates, and cups you used for your snacks and brought them downstairs before leaving to gomeet with Detective Patch

and Klaus- Klaus laid down next to you so you were in between him and Five and feel asleep almost immediately

the first sleep he’s had in years that didn’t contain nightmares- and of course it was because you were there

you were always there for him- for all of them, really

you never shyed away from showing affection

and you never failed to show your love and care for them

ever

#tua #tua x reader #the umbrella academy #hargreeves x reader #number eight #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #hargreeves x sibling

69 notes · View notes

quiverwingquack · 4 years

Text

The View From Under the Bed

Gosalyn is bold, courageous, and smart, but beneath her troublemaking exterior she’s just a child. A child who lost her parents too young to remember them, and then her Grandpa, and then was sent from foster home to foster home, where things just kept getting worse. She’s overwhelmed by emotions she can’t make sense of, alone and reeling in the wake of a tragedy nobody bothered to ask if she was okay after. There’s only so much her spirit can take before she breaks.

AO3 link in reblogs.

-------

The house is quiet. Gosalyn’s window is open just enough to let a whisper of a breeze in, ruffling her green curtains like emerald waves. She has her warmest blanket and a soft pillow, and she’s nearly asleep.

The lights are off in the hall, which means her Grandpa is in bed himself across the way. She lies there, dozing and nearly fully asleep, but then the sound of shattering glass startles her to alertness. She scrambles to get up, on instant anxious alert that Grandpa might have slipped and broken his bedside water glass. She stops with her little feet barely hanging off the bed—that crash was far too big to be a smashed cup. The only other things that could’ve made that much noise while shattering are the TV or the window.

She hears an unfamiliar, loud voice, and ducks under her bed instead of heading to the door. Her heart begins to pick up pace, first as if she’s jogging and then to the speed it hits when she’s at an outright sprint across the soccer field. A tense moment passes, how long she’s not sure. Footsteps walk in, and the light clicks on for a moment. A squeaky, nervous voice calls back out into the hall, “Where’s the gorl? The boss ain’t gonna be happy if this little accident don’t take care’a her too!”

“Maybe she’s at a friend’s house, huh? Oh, uh, maybe we should’ve asked ol’ Waddlemeyer where she’s at.” A second voice, scratchy and hoarse, replies from somewhere far out of sight. She hears a thumping sound and a handful of curse words, but doesn’t react, startled into a frozen stillness and holding her breath as long as she can.

“Well we can’t now. Keep looking for ‘er.” The first voice, belonging to a pair of dirty white shoes and pinstriped pants, vanishes, shutting the light off on its way. Probably an old habit, but the sudden darkness doesn’t help her nerves. Despite that fear, Gosalyn doesn’t move, releasing a long breath and drawing another in. Her head starts spinning and she fights back bile in her throat. What did he mean they “couldn’t now?” What had they done with Grandpa?

Her whole body is tense, and she feels like she might explode if she can’t catch her breath soon. Grandpa didn’t make a sound, and she’s worried he’s not even out there anymore. And what if he isn’t? What if he’s hurt, or gone, or…. Gosalyn tries to push all the bad thoughts away. She can’t do a thing from here, squished in this shoebox of a space, can only wait and listen and try to keep her breathing, which is quickly getting more rapid, somewhat quiet.

For the most part, she’s successful in silent panicking. She lies there as unmoving as the forgotten toys and dirty laundry she’s curled up among. She waits until they walk through the house, voices and footsteps growing distant, and stays frozen until the back door opens and closes, and then everything falls still. Too still—she’s got to do something.

Her exit from her hiding place is quiet, the sounds of her scooting out of the tiny space ringing into empty air. The house is very, very cold now, icy air rushing in in full force from across the hall. She clutches her arms, pulling her short sleeves toward her elbows as she pokes her head out the door, gazing around like a deer on a night-dark highway, scanning the shadows for lingering threats.

The end-table beside the bathroom door is crooked, the potted plant on top now sideways and halfway over the edge. Someone had tripped on it in the darkness, and she thinks briefly of the stumbling sounds and the cursing from earlier. A sense of dread fills her as she compares that to the total silence that surrounds her now. As she approaches Grandpa’s door, she begins to tremble violently.

Later, she’ll remember exactly how each footstep across the hall feels. The heaviness of her legs, the tickles of cold air and fear ruffling the feathers on her arms, and how her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself when her search comes to a stop.

Her Grandpa is lying on the floor, crumpled like a dropped doll, his life pouring out onto the hardwood. Gosalyn’s beak falls open in a scream that she feels will go on forever, if only in a small part of her mind.

She can’t quite remember the details of what comes after. Mostly silence, alone for a moment, and then sirens arrive, painting the house in their swirling emergency lights. Somber blues and harsh reds fill every window, but none of them are quick enough to help. She’s shuffled outside when officers flood the place, hurrying to take note of the mess left in the wake of tragedy. Voices reach her from every angle, from worried neighbors in pajamas, staring from their lawns and porches. She hardly has the energy to react but it’s enough to make her want to wail like the police sirens are.

The fray isn’t all terrible, though, as from it comes a set of warm hands, offering her a coat to wrap around her skinny shoulders.

She looks up at the one face in this sea of onlookers with concern for her. Her savior-of-sorts is wearing big orange earrings and has a police badge hanging over her chest. She stands straight and tall, projecting confidence along with her warm personality. Gos can tell this is a trustworthy woman.

“Th—thanks,” Gosalyn manages to whisper, drawing the big jacket around her shoulders. She sinks onto the cold concrete of the porch steps, and the officer sits with her. It’s winter still, cold frost clinging to the grass, but the cop doesn’t seem to mind the chill.

“I’m Officer Cabrera,” she tells Gosalyn gently, ignoring the clamor of fellow officers yelling to one another from inside and across the yard. “What’s your name?”

“Gosalyn,” she croaks, voice sore from more than just the screaming. Everything is a terrible whirlwind of others invading her space and ignoring her and she can hardly focus under all the things she’s trying to comprehend. “Gosalyn Waddlemeyer.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she murmurs, smiling warmly. Empathetically. Gosalyn will receive a lot of condolences in the coming days, lots of sorry smiles and empty apologies for a crime that they weren’t there to see. But this smile, the gentle presence here, is genuine, and it helps Gos muddle through the haze clouding her head.

“Thank you,” Gosalyn replies, thinking of her grandfather’s lessons in manners. Thinking of him in everything she does, really, before and after all of this. It just didn’t hurt before, and now… now she feels like the blinking neon of a vacant hotel, calling out for anyone to see her and come near.

“You’re going to be alright,” Officer Cabrera promises. “It might be a while, a few months or a year from now, but I can promise you, you’re gonna be alright. You’re strong enough to get yourself to that point.”

Somehow, in the cloud of fierce frustration, the hollowness of misery, and the emptiness of losing control, Gosalyn takes the promise to heart.

The officer asks her what happened, asks her what she heard and saw and did. It hurts, but she does, down to the feeling of the hardwood beneath her and the bloody red that was spilling everywhere, staining everything including her memory. She tells the whole truth because she knows that if she does it will be easiest for these cops to catch the pinstriped suit-wearer and the unseen voice in the hall, and whoever “the boss” was that they mentioned.

Officer Cabrera takes all of it down. She asks a few questions, but mostly nods and just takes Gosalyn’s words down as if she’s copying the words of a prophet. Gosalyn wonders, numbly, if any of this will make a difference.

Doesn’t really affect Grandpa either way, she thinks, heart bitten with something sour at the things she isn’t able to do.

She takes a shaky breath when she’s said all she can, stares blankly out at the yard. The sun will be up soon. The sky is already lightening in daily preparation for morning. Then all the frost on the grass will melt, and the clingy gray clouds overhead will either blow away or turn to a storm.

Gosalyn doesn’t know if she would prefer it to be snow or rain, but snow would remind her of holidays at home and thunder used to scare her into Grandpa’s arms. In any case she’s going to have to face the world without a home and family now. For all her spirit, for all her bold choices and brave moves, she’s left dizzy and chilled thinking of how massive the world is. She has no one to look up to anymore, after losing both her parents when she was small and now her Grandpa at the age of ten. The thought of loss sets in as much as the anxiety of loneliness does, and she’s left with a heavy sadness that she’s entirely unequipped to handle.

Officer Cabrera drives her to the police station before daybreak, and she’s handed off to a social worker with too-long legs and a nasal voice. Gos hands back the comforting jacket and they part ways, and she begins to understand quite quickly that the world is not in her favor anymore, if it ever was at all.

She’s allowed to pack a single backpack of her things before they make her move on. They’ll sell the house to pay off her grandfather's loans for lab equipment and projects, and most of their things will be sold off too. No relatives to give them to, or Gosalyn would be going to them. It’s what he had wanted, they say, so despite her protests it’s what’s going to happen.

They let her back to the house on a supervised trip, and she heads up to her room quickly. It’s a mess and she knows she’s got to leave most of it behind, staring at a floor littered with toys she’s never going to play with again and clothes she won’t wear anymore. The next chapter of her story is one that will be narrated by people who hardly know her, and she knows most won't care for her much, if at all.

She grabs a change of street clothes, ones she won’t mind getting torn up. She has a suspicion that anything with sentimental value is going to be hard to wear given the person who made it valuable to her is gone now. Then, she glances around the room at the discarded possessions, and makes the first hard choice of many.

She won’t take any of it.

Instead, she opts to leave her bedroom again and look quickly away from the now sealed-up room across the hall. She slides down the banister one last time, much to the chagrin of her babysitting social worker. She heads to the tv room, and starts gathering up the Darkwing merch.

Grandpa didn’t care much for the old show, but Gosalyn? There was nothing she loved to do more, and still does, than watch a rerun of Darkwing. She tucks the figurines and the plushes and the dvd set into her bag, careful with each one but determined to make her little collection fit in the space she’s been allotted for her whole life to be packed into.

Her social worker frowns in the doorway. “Wouldn’t you rather some dolls, or a dress or two?”

“You said I could take anything I wanted!” Gosalyn retorts quickly and sharply. Her heart is full of something dark, a storm raging against the boxes she’s always forced into. “I want this.”

“Alright, alright,” the tall bird stands up a bit straighter. She shakes her head, as if she can’t believe a little girl would choose these things above all else. But Gosalyn is not, nor has she ever been, just any girl.

Someone will see that in her again someday, she hopes. If she’s going to survive she’ll need someone who understands.

The backpack is full when she’s done with it, just a small bit of room at the top for something special. She looks up to the row of pictures on the wall, heart aching like a wildfire burnt through it. One memory preserved physically, despite the fact she’s got all of them in her phone.

She pulls down the framed picture she’s most fond of, one of the two of them in his lab. She’s got shorts on, band-aids on both knees from a roller hockey accident, and a lopsided smile with her missing front tooth not grown in yet. He’s grinning both over her, sitting on the counter beside him, and the invention he’s presenting to the camera. The ramrod, she remembers him saying. She can’t quite remember what it did, but she knows it meant the world to him. His pride and joy, he would always joke, and she’d protest that that was her title to wear.

She tucks the photo away carefully as she can, and hauls herself to her feet. She looks around, suddenly struck with the thought that she’s not going to come back here ever again. She had always assumed this would be home til she went off to college, but now…. She’s headed out into the world alright, she just thought this moment would come after she learned to drive and got to vote, not before she turned eleven.

Gosalyn pauses by the door, ignoring her social worker herding her toward the car. Her hockey stick and skates are in the corner here, forgotten momentarily but not forever. She turns to her supervisor, putting on the puppy-dog eyes, making herself look as sweet and pleading as a kid possibly could. “Can I take these too?”

“They do state just the one bag, you’ll be able to settle in easier with less to un… pack….”

Gos makes her lower beak quiver best she can. She hardly has to lie, but figures there’s a trick to be pulled here. “I gotta leave all this behind, and I miss my Grandpa so much, I just want this.”

“Oh, alright. Two more things won’t be too much.” The social worker sighs the sort of sigh that says “I’m not being paid enough for this,” and gestures to the equipment.

“Yes!” Gosalyn cheers, plucking the skates up by their laces. She cannot believe that worked! She’s got to try that again sometime. Meanwhile, though, she’s looking forward to at least having hockey to help her through.

The thought isn’t a hope meant to last, though. She just doesn’t have time anymore, nor a consistent set of guardians to support it. She’s sent to four different foster homes in six months, thanks to her spirit.

The first is a set of prim-and-proper first-time parents who, with their white walls and white carpets, soon decide that fostering isn’t for them, really. Not after Gosalyn unintentionally smashes the pot of the single succulent on their coffee table, staining everything with the dirt.

The second home is an experienced couple, two kids already there waiting on Gosalyn to make three. She has her eleventh birthday there, and even though she tells her temporary guardians and the other kids what day it is about four dozen times, it goes forgotten. It’s because of that that her skin is crawling with heat and her hands are itching to let out some energy, and they find an outlet when, in a string of poor events, one of the other kids calls Gos’s Darkwing plush dorky.

It makes something in her heart snap, something she’d been forcing away since Grandpa’s death, and she chips the kid’s tooth in one swing. He cries for an hour and they’re quick to tend to him, but Gosalyn bruises her knuckles and gets ignored, and told to sit on her bed unmoving until they come to take her away again. She decides she’s taken the world record for the worst birthday ever.

Her third home, she’s placed with a strict single mother. On drop-off day she hears her ever-nasal social worker call her a “problem child, but not a problem for you, I’m sure.”

This is her longest stay, and what she thinks will be her worst. This woman, who she’s instructed to call simply “Mother,” demands she earn her keep. Cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms top to bottom, cooking(which she’s quickly told will not be her chore again, after she sets the fire alarm off and ruins their lunch), and laundry washing and folding fill her days. She hardly has a chance now to play with her figurines, but she doesn’t trust “Mother” not to take them away and oh-so-conveniently forget to give them back. She also doesn’t trust the other kids, who are all older and meaner, not to ruin them. She doesn’t unpack a thing, and ends her stay by knocking over “Mother’s” hand-carved mahogany end-table while trying to stir up a little fun and play a game of baseball indoors.

Grandpa would be disappointed in her, she figures on the ride to her next home. But he’s not here, and without him she’s got to take care of herself by any means necessary. When those means are breaking things or lashing out, that’s just survival. He would understand, he would always understand. Maybe he would scold, but he would know she’s just a spirited kid and she needs a guardian who understands that to take care of her right.

Her fourth foster home is as far from understanding as she could possibly get.

This one isn’t much of a home at all, really. The woman of the house, an ashen-faced lady who seems to have lived a million lives already, doesn’t talk much. She’s friendly, but quiet, and Gos can tell right off the bat she’s super unhappy. There are no other kids here, their oldest just having moved out. The house is a tribute to their four kids, with pencil-marked heights in the doorway and photos up all over. It’s haunting how lived-in the place looks compared to how quiet and empty it is.

It’s the man of the house she’s got to worry about, almost immediately. He greets her with a grunt and a closed fist at his side, and she keeps her head down for the first few hours. Something about his size and the darkness in his expression make Gos’s skin light up in goosebumps.

They have pasta for dinner, and he doesn’t eat a bite, complaining that his wife “ought to know by now he doesn’t eat that carbs crap.” He walks out, slamming a door, and Gosalyn is left wide-eyed to watch as the house falls still. It reminds her of a Halloween attraction, how often she’s left anticipating being spooked by loud noises or violent actions.

He slams a lot more doors after that, breaks a few plates and cups, yells more than anyone she’s ever met. His wife, obviously worn to exhaustion, doesn’t even try to calm him down. He swings at her and she dodges, but ends up battered anyway.

Gos gets a black eye on her third night there.

She doesn’t intend to anger him, but she sure does, just by being there. She isn’t sure if it’s the spot she picked to sit in at the table, or the cup she poured her juice into, or if it’s just how he is that gets her hurt, but she ends up getting hit hard. She falls to the floor with a yelp and hides under the table holding the spot that got struck, shaking like a frightened chihuahua. As soon as he storms out she bolts to somewhere more safe, everything else forgotten.

Her temporary room(they’re all temporary) has a mirror on the back of the door, floor to ceiling. She leans against her bed and faces it, looking at the off-colored, sore spot around her eye and over her cheek. She’s no stranger to injuries, not after playing so many sports. This one just stings more because she didn’t have a choice but to take it, and he didn’t receive any penalty for it.

She thinks of the way Grandpa would put ice over her bruises and bumps, put band-aids on her scrapes, and chokes on a sob. She will not cry, she hasn’t since the night she lost him. She’ll be fine. She’s strong and spirited and she can do this.

A rough, ragged breath claws its way out of her throat and through her beak anyway.

Gosalyn pulls her framed photo out of her bag. She looks at the two of them grinning at the camera and lets out a whimper without meaning to. She wipes the unfightable tears away roughly, denying herself even a moment to think about it. She looks at her grandfather’s smiling face through a blur and her shoulders shake with the force of trying to breathe through the ache.

“I miss you,” she whispers. “I wish you could tell me where I’m supposed to go from here.”

Footsteps in the hall alert her to someone else coming, and she shoves the photo away. Her heart is racing for what feels like the millionth time lately, and, thinking of that tragic night, she shoves her backpack under the bed and ducks under after it. She’s not strong enough to fight him.

Her foster father bursts through the door, slamming it against the wall. From her hiding place she can see dust drift down from the wall, a sign of damage. But what in Gos’s life now isn’t a bit damaged? Even Gosalyn herself is broken goods these days, or at least the people around her act like it.

Her foster father pokes his head into the closet, huffing like a bull before it charges. “Where did that whiny brat run off to?”

She breathes slow, quietly, holding and releasing it to keep herself still. Her whole heart is left hoping he won’t check her hiding place. And she’s fortunate in that regard; he leaves without looking under the bed. He closes her door roughly, but she lies still for a while after anyway, staring into the distance and trying to make sense of the lump in her throat and the shiver down her spine.

He yells some while she’s busy focusing on breathing, then Gos hears a feeble protest from her foster mother. Nothing will come of that, she knows, and waits until she hears the front door slam. He’ll get in the car and drive for a while; if they’re lucky he won't be back til dawn. She’s wedged under the bed well, so her vision is limited, but when the slammed door shakes the house, something falls into her line of sight. She gives herself a moment to be sure of safety, then scoots out from under the bed to investigate.

It’s her hockey stick, now lying across the floor, one end propped up a tiny bit by her skates. She looks it over in a fondness now ruined with a sour sense that she’s being treated unfairly. She’s missing the ice and the… thrill of… playing on it…. She has an idea.

She doesn’t have to stay here, does she?

There’s nothing for her to pack, really, she never unpacked when she got here. She thought of shattered plates and of the memories she’s got with her Darkwing collection, and knew it was safest to keep herself bottled up. Her love for those things hasn’t been appreciated in months. She just has to wait until midnight now, her foster mother long gone to bed and her foster father still out. She slips to the kitchen, the forgotten dinner still sitting on the counter uneaten. She abandons it there despite her hunger, her black eye still stinging.

She heads for the back door, in the formal dining room. On the wall there is a huge framed photo, these parents standing proud with their kids. She can’t stop herself from wondering as she looks at them, practiced and perfect smiles, if those kids got hurt like she does now. If their growing up and leaving caused his anger, or if they just learned to hide from it when they were smaller, like her.

And she wonders if any of them ran like she’s about to.

She closes the door quietly after herself, scales the fence with athletic ease. Beyond this old house is a vacant field, full of thistles and litter and dead grass. She watches her step around discarded plastic bags and broken glass bottles, hands shaking and head spinning. She’s never considered something like this before, but she’s never needed to, and she’s starting to sweat as she thinks about what she’s walking into. She’s got no idea what she’s doing.

If she stays, the spirit her grandfather praised so often will be crushed like a wildflower under a hunter’s boot. She will no longer have the space and time to love what she does, to play sports or watch Darkwing or make trouble just for the fun of it. She’ll be trapped, as she already kind of is. Destined to do her foster father’s bidding, to clean up broken things and to always be waiting for the door to slam. She doesn’t want to spend her life wide-eyed and hiding. Even if she’s sent on to a new place, they’ll just try to tamp down the fire burning inside her and she just wants to be able to choose for herself what she does.

She finds a main street, but keeps out of the streetlights. Her foster father is still out in the city someplace and even though St Canard is huge, a voice in the back of her head whispers that he will catch her again if she’s not careful, so she doesn’t let herself be seen. She feels like there’s eyes on her at every corner, no matter how much she tries to tell herself that’s just her head playing tricks on her. Just her imagination, just her making up things like shadows passing overhead and noises in the alleys she’s passing.

These roads are ones she travelled with Grandpa often, ones she remembers now with a heaviness in her chest. Many of the places she’s passing are places she remembers going with him. That alone makes this walk hard, but piled on top is a sense of urgency about getting where she’s going. Every time she hears or sees an oncoming car, she’s nearly overwhelmed with a temptation to leap into the shadows, and just as she heads for the darkened alleys between buildings, the shadows make sounds she can’t see the sources of. Everything around her feels like she’s about to be pounced on by some invisible predator, caught and dragged back to the house of broken things and painful wounds.

She thinks to herself as she walks that maybe the threat of being spotted isn’t what’s scariest. It’s not being able to protect herself, and not having anyone left in her life strong enough to do so that’s actually willing to stand up for her. She wasn’t strong enough to do anything but hide the night Grandpa died, so what would make her strong enough to be her own hero this time? She’s tried to fight for herself, with other kids at least, but she always loses out in the end even if she wins the fight.

Tonight’s her night, though. Whatever happens next, she will let happen, but she needs to let go for a minute. If she can have five minutes to skate, maybe find a puck to whack around, she’ll go quietly wherever they want her to. She just needs to get this constantly suffocating weight off her chest and she thinks that breathing in some icy air will do that.

The front doors are locked, of course they are, but Gosalyn knows this place. It used to be her home away from home. One of the back doors is always propped open, even at night, because the security guys use it to get out to their cars and they don’t want to get locked out. She slips inside easily, spots the guard at the camera station asleep.

He’ll be out for a bit, and she knows they only keep one night guard on staff on weeknights. She played a lot of locker room pranks with her old teammates, and they learned things like that after their first few tries failed. The stars are aligning. She’s finally got a chance to do something for herself!

She sneaks through the main hall. She hasn’t had the ability or time to be on the team this season, and she’s sure what used to be her locker is full now. There’s nothing left in that locker room for her except memories that’ll hurt.

She pushes open the door to the ice, which is crystalline and smooth. The rush of cold air that hits her is a lot like the icy air when she crawled out from under her bed to find a body on the bedroom floor across the hall. But this is different too, for all the right reasons, and it feels like a homecoming. This is a cold beak split wide in a smile, cheering as they win a game. This is a wind across her cheeks, thrilled in the heat of the match.

This is what she was born to be doing.

She sets her backpack by the gate, swaps her sneakers for skates. There’s a few discarded pucks at the bottom of the stairs, probably forgotten after practice. She plucks one up and the familiar weight of it spreads a smile across her face. She’s got this.

The ice is polished smooth after yesterday’s skating, and the air is crisp and still. The only lights are the two golden emergency lights, leaving a lot of shadows around the rink. Unlike the shadows on her journey here, though, these are just a background. She doesn’t bother to stop and consider what they might conceal.

She opens the gate and steps onto the ice gently, her racing heart calming at last. She pushes forward with her right foot, gliding onto the rink. The gate clicks behind her, echoing before the whole big room fades to silence once more. She takes a deep breath, a cool breeze gracing her cheeks.

She sticks her arms out just a bit, her hockey stick clutched in one hand, gracefully skating along. When she reaches the far side of the rink, she leans to turn, and then tosses her picked up puck onto the ice a few feet ahead. She’s here at last.

It takes one swing to launch it into the goal across the way. Even without practice for months in a row, she’s still got good aim. The realization sends a smile across her face--they took so much from her, but they can’t take this. She swings wide around the goal, knocks the puck back out, and begins to skate her way across the rink again, guiding it forward.

She speeds up, pushing herself to her limit. Her legs start to burn, and the cold air starts making her throat scratchy, but she’s focused only on the puck, on launching it into the net over and over and over again. She twirls and turns, going through the motions of moves she’d half-forgotten, locked away in houses she never belonged in. They all come back to her easily, and her eyes stay trained on her little black target, concentrated—

A knocking sound catches her attention. A pale fist is tapping the side of the rink beside the gate, echoing into the stillness of the half-lit room. It’s shadowy, but she’d recognize this person even if he were no more than a solid black silhouette. Golden buttons are the easiest thing to see, catching what dim light they can and reflecting in sparkles. A massive hat hangs over the newcomer’s eyes, shielding his face, but she knows it’s masked anyway.

“Hey, kid?” He calls out, and it’s unmistakable. This is the same face, same voice, that she used to watch on the news with Grandpa. She’s stunned and for a moment just slides along the ice, trying to string even half a coherent thought into place. The visitor, for his part, just leans against the wall of the rink, watching and waiting.

She pulls herself together somewhat, in the span of a minute, and skids against the ice, her skates catching in it and leaving gashes behind. So much for a peaceful moment to herself, she thinks, but it’s absent of the usual bitter anger. This is—well, she knows that costume. Her beak drops open and her heart starts to race viciously. The onset of shock has her half-breathless but somehow she manages to choke out his name. “Darkwing?”

Her voice is somehow too loud and too quiet. It echoes off the empty bleachers, same as every noise in here does, but it’s a sound made in surprise so it’s not much more than a gasp. He replies with a smile, a friendly one that his too-big hat and too-dark mask can’t obscure.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s almost two am.”

“Skating!” She chirps, as if that isn’t obvious. Her heart is starting to feel less like it’s going to leap out of her chest, and she regains her balance for the most part. She pushes off again, moving to make a loop around the rink that would put a bit of distance between them. Vaguely she wonders if her current guardians called in some help, if he’s here to haul her back. Suddenly she’s less sure about letting them take her after tonight.

She watches him the whole time she skates away, and he watches her in kind. This rink is the smaller of the two in the building, which she chose because she’s out of practice, but that means there’s only one way off the ice. One exit, and he’s standing right beside it, blocking the way. To make it worse, her only possessions are piled up over there too, including her shoes. Even if she was willing to abandon her stuff(she’s not) and run for it, if she thought she could get away(she doesn’t) she isn’t going to get anywhere in her skates.

“I noticed that. You’re pretty good at it.” He doesn’t seem to want to hurt her or take her back, so her anxiety starts to dissipate, but she’s sure something is coming to rip the rug out from under her. Isn’t it always? Adults wanting her to sit still, Gosalyn, be good. Gosalyn, stay home. Gosalyn, sports are for the boys.

She’s done listening.

“Thank you. Uh, what are you doing out here?” Her surprise is mostly faded, seeing as how he’s no more than a person standing there. Instead, she grips tighter to her hockey stick, turning white-knuckled at the thought she’s going to lose out again and be dragged somewhere she’s unhappy.

“Well, I was on my patrol, making sure the city’s safe, and I saw someone out at this hour who probably shouldn’t be. I wanted to investigate.”

“I’m fine. You can go, I’m just gonna be here a little longer.”

“Aren’t your parents going to worry about you?”

“Don’t got parents,” she declares, punctuating her sentence with a hit on the puck. It slides flawlessly into the goal, as every one has tonight. “Nobody’s gonna worry about little old me.”

“Well, I am. Worried about you, that is. You’re what, ten? And you’re out in the city alone.”

“I’m eleven,” she says boldly, chasing her puck. She raises her volume a little so he can hear. “I’m old enough. And nobody’s gonna care I’m out here, and I’ll be gone way before they open so they’re not gonna even notice.”

“Well, Miss Old-Enough, you’re still a kid, and it’s my duty as a hero to make sure you’re safe. Don’t you have a home to go back to?”

“My name is Gosalyn!” She yells, whacking the puck and shooting off after it. She catches it before it whizzes past Darkwing, and slows to a halt just out of his reach. She’s not wearing a helmet or anything, so he can see her green eyes and she can see his dark ones, though they’re kind of obscured by the shadow of his hat.

“Gosalyn,” he corrects himself, letting his question go. Her actions sort of answer that for him. His eyes peer over her, and she wonders briefly what of her physical damage he’s taking in. “Have you eaten lately, Gosalyn?”

“Uh, no,” she recalls the smashed plate and swinging fist that replaced last night’s meal. And her foster father had been stomping around at midday, so she’d hidden in her room instead of getting lunch. “Not since breakfast yesterday.”

“Do you <i>want</i> something to eat?” He offers. The genuine concern in his voice is heavy, and like the officer the night everything changed, she knows he’s looking out for her.

“...yes, please.”

He gives her space, lets her swap skates for sneakers and lead the way outside. It’s as if he knows she’s nervous having him close enough to touch her, so he stands back. It makes it easier to trust him when he guides her to a Hamburger Hippo for some late night fries and a burger, and tells her she can have it however she wants. She thinks about coming to these restaurants with Grandpa and how she’d always get extra cheese on the burger, and she’d inevitably get some on her shirt.

DW tells her it’s a good choice, and carries her soda for her. It’s strange, having someone willing to let her choose. It’s been a while since that’s happened. They make their way to a rooftop above the nearest intersection, and watch the cars pass and the lights turn their cycle.

It’s quiet for a long moment. She scarfs down her food, hands trembling so hard that the ice in her cola clinks against itself. She doesn’t want him to tell her the meal is over when she’s still got some left, because that would just leave her hungry sooner since she didn’t get it all down. She downs her burger before the lights have cycled three times around the intersection below them.

Darkwing is quiet, at first, just like she’d always thought him to be. But then he turns to her, watching her eat from a bit of a distance. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, you can slow down. I’m not gonna take it from you.”

“How did you—” Gos looks up at him, then sits up straighter, assuming her cool kid attitude again. “Yeah, whatever. What do you care about me anyway?”

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he murmurs, looking down at the traffic. A red car has pulled up to the light, coughing out smoke as it rumbles. She covers her nose with her sleeve, and he flicks his cape out dramatically to clear the air as the car rolls down the street.

“St Canard is a good city, but not all of the things in it are.” He shakes his head absently. “You need a roof over your head. A family.”

“I lost my family a while ago,” she says bitterly, forcing tears away. “The stupid and mean and ugly foster parents could care less.”

“I’m going to guess one of those foster parents gave you your shiner, huh?”

She pauses for a long moment. He knows anyway, she doesn’t have to say it. She watches a green station wagon approach the lights below. There’s a kid in a blue shirt sticking his whole head and shoulders out the window, spiky white hair bouncing as the car comes to a stop. She can hear the driver squawking at the kid to sit back even from this distance, and in other circumstances she would laugh. It’s as if the universe is taunting her with this loving relationship, something she wants so badly but it’s just so far out of reach.

“...He gets really angry. He threw some stuff and broke it, and—and I didn’t mean to do anything, but he started to hurt me anyway.” Gos’s voice rises in pitch as she speaks, so she takes a breath before her next sentence, trying to stay level-headed for Darkwing. “I don’t care what the social worker says, I’m not gonna make them my family.”

“If he hit you, you aren’t going back. I’ll take you down to the offices in the morning and have a friend of mine make sure he stays away from you.”

Gos stops eating, slowly looking up to him. She was so sure he’d call her whiny or tell her she needed to listen to the adults in her life. Her social worker and the foster people before always did. “What?”

“People don’t run away for no reason,” he turns to her, and for the first time she can see his face entirely unobstructed by shadows. He’s looking right at her with a gentle expression. “It’s wrong to force you into a situation you don’t want to be in, especially if that situation is one you’ve obviously been hurt in. Sometimes you won’t have a choice, given that you’re a kid, and you might be in a place you don’t like. But if you’re in a place you’re unsafe? They should listen to you, and protect you. It’s awful that’s not always the case.”

“Oh. Well… yeah. I don’t want to do that.” Things fall quiet for a moment, but then Gosalyn realizes something. “You mean that from experience, don’t you, Darkwing?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He takes to watching the road below, and his brow furrows with something she feels but can’t name. “It took me a while to meet the people I love, and I dealt with a lot of awful people before I met the good ones.”

Things fall silent between them for a long moment, but then he declares, “You’ll find that too, eventually.”

She scoffs, crumpling up a wrapper from her food. “I’d sure like to have what I did with Grandpa again, but that’s over. I kinda gave up by now on finding a home that cares like that. Nobody else wants me anymore.”

“That’s the brilliant thing about life, Gosalyn.” He gazes out at the city lights, as if they hold the secret to what he’s about to say. She looks out there too, nibbling on her fries while she listens.

“You always have a chance to find something better. There’s a lot of people out there,” he gestures with his cape, a sweeping motion encompassing the huge city and the world beyond it. “A lot of people both good and bad. Someone is bound to meet you, and to want you to become part of their life. Someone who will want you and all that spirit you’ve got.”

“...spirit?” She asks, voice small. She looks away from the sparkling city lights. Darkwing nods seriously, returning the look, and smiles a bit to reassure her. “Of course. It takes a lot of spirit to get yourself safe like you did tonight. Maybe you didn’t have a place to go, but you got out of there on your own.”

“Thanks, Darkwing,” she murmurs. His words sit heavy against her chest, settling in, and she feels warm. Safe. She did get herself safe, didn’t she? Maybe there were better ways than going to the ice rink, but she sure found capable hands to help her. And that’s pretty alright, she thinks. Grandpa would probably be proud.

She finishes her food and talks with Darkwing a while longer. Not about anything in particular, mostly just talking to fill the silence. Even just having his attention focused on her makes her feel warm inside again, though. He’s made it clear he can see her, something no one else has lately, and for that she trusts him to take her to the social worker’s office when dawn begins to break. She doesn’t much want to have him leave her, and to be alone again, but he kneels down on the front steps of the building to promise her she won’t be. He’s a hero of the shadows, but he will be there to protect her on her journey’s next step. It’s his job, he reassures her, and she feels a bit of confidence and strength in moving on. Chasing the family he promised her is out there.

It’s the first time in months she’s got someone in her corner, handing her even the smallest bit of control over what happens to her.

Her next destination is a group home in the city. Unlike the others, where the kids were just names on the waiting lists, these kids are about to be adopted. Within her first week one of the six kids vacates his bed, off to live with his family. Two of the others have met their prospective parents. The situation gives Gos a bit more hope for herself, and the kids here are all much nicer. On their best behavior to get to their families, she supposes.

And she’s only there a few weeks before she meets her own.

Drake is friendly, and she likes him immediately because he’s wearing a Darkwing shirt the day they meet. He’s also short—they’re almost the same height, and she’s eleven—and she picks on him every time they meet up. He jokes with her too, about how constantly messy her hair is and how she’s often covered in dirt from playing in the yard or street. She feels comfortable calling him Dad before the paperwork is done, even, and it’s a pretty quick process.

Launchpad’s big and not as smart, but full to the brim with kindness and fun ideas. He’s always down for buying her lunch or going to do crazy stuff, like doing every ride at the city carnival or, when she finds out he’s a pilot, taking her to fly over the city. He even lets her take the controls for a couple of minutes, and she relishes the feeling of holding the sticks for a week.

She realizes Drake is Darkwing pretty quick. He claims she just caught on because she’s smart, and she’ll take the praise! But she knows, honestly, he’s just not hiding it well. He lives for attention just like she does.

And really, living with a superhero and his pilot partner is her dream. Plus her dad has like, every tiny bit of Darkwing merch he could find, so when she gets to move in with them she’s in heaven. She gets everything she wants, and hardly ever even has to ask. It’s a bunch of her fantasy dreams of days gone by, wrapped up into a beautiful reality.

Still, it takes the heaviness of her Grandpa’s death to make her truly feel like it’s home.

The day was always bound to be a rough one, in general, but it’s really a bad day dawn to dusk. Her soccer game is rained out, and LP’s flight home from a trip with the McDucks is delayed because they can’t safely land with it so stormy. And with her new buddy Honker grounded for one of their escapades she’s got no distractions from the heavy ache that’s started to claw open her chest as she thinks more and more of Grandpa. She spends a long while thinking about that dark night, about the broken glass and the cold.

Her head turns to a sort of haze, and she can’t quite figure out why. Her room stretches out around her, full of shiny new things and evidence of love from her dads. She can hardly breathe looking at what she has while thinking of what once was. Her usual fiery spirit fades into something cold, a vice gripping her chest ‘til she starts panting, hands shaking, and she crawls under the bed hoping the closeness of it will help fill the yawning sinkhole where his love used to be.

The carpet pressed against her side and her cheek help to ground her, and the mattress creates a closer ceiling that blocks out the sensory input of the million and one things in her room. Slowly, with care and focus, she claws her way back to reality, gripping the fabric of her shirt that hangs over her shoulders until she realizes she’s made her knuckles ache, and releases it.

She hears her phone buzz on the bedside table where she left it, but ignores it. The carpet’s cool against her cheek, and she doesn’t have much energy. The familiar sense of wet, suffocating grief has filled her chest like water in a balloon and she focuses instead on breathing in, holding on, letting go, over and over again.

From her spot on the floor, one eye squished shut from the way she’s ended up, she looks to the space where the wall meets the floor. Her eyes blur with tears she doesn’t want to shed and she notices that the paint on the wall isn’t covering it very well. She’s almost laughing at this situation, because it’s kind of silly how she knew today would come, but was unprepared for this feeling anyway.

Thunder crashes outside, and she draws her knees to her chest. Stupid storm. She should be out there celebrating a soccer victory and greeting Launchdad when he gets home. The world must hate her, leaving her—another rumbling bout of thunder and a flash of lightning shuts the power clean off.

Great.

She doesn’t even feel like moving then. Dad can get the lights back on, she’s seen him have to dozens of times when she or Launchdad pop the breakers when fiddling with cars in the garage. She just lies there, in the dark, holding her knees to her chest and missing Grandpa’s laughter and dumb jokes.

Her phone buzzes again, and the lights don’t come back on. She stays still, quiet, painfully hollow….

“Gos?”

Her dad’s voice is quiet. She hears him step inside the doorway, and a pause follows. Her phone buzzes again, and she hears him looking around the room. The closet door opens, she sees his feet appear as he starts circling the bed looking for her.

She expects him to leave then, like the times before when people missed her hiding away, but this time is different. Before, she never wanted anyone to find her, and was never discovered. Today, when she’s feeling so vacant and aching, so desperate for love to fill the emptiness, she watches him kneel beside the bed and peek under it. She looks out at him, and can hardly blink in greeting.

“Hey, sweetheart. Do you want some company?”

She nods, and her cheek rubs against the carpet. It’s uncomfortable but she doesn’t have much fuel for anything more.

He lies down beside the bed. Distanced, like that rooftop night, but close enough to remind her she’s not alone in the universe.

“LP called. He’s driving home instead. It’ll be a bit longer, but he won’t miss dinner.”

Gos’s energy is zapped, so she lies still, but looks at him to show she’s listening.

“We aren’t going to patrol in the rain. Plus he’s tired, for sure. So you’ll have us all night, that’s good news. And… let me think…. Well, the power outage isn’t good. It’s the whole street at least. The good part is this means we can put a little fort up in the living room and read some darkwing comics, if you want. I just bought some batteries for the flashlights.”

She nods slowly, lifting her head a bit. Those are good things.

“Okay. We can do that. I was going to make dinner, but since the power went kaput I’ll get Hamburger Hippo delivered, soon as LP gets a bit closer. Get you some fries and a burger.”

“...extra cheese?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Same as always, you can have anything you want.”

She scoots toward him, and out from her hiding place. Her heart still feels like a popped water balloon, emotions splashed everywhere, and the tears are finally here, threatening to splash on her shirt in a more literal sense. But she’s got good things that came from choices she was allowed to make, and that helps some.

He sits up, and holds her close while she needs physical comfort. She hiccups and hugs him close as she can. It hurts, this day, and all the things in it, but in the middle of her emotional hurricane, she knows she’s finally been found and brought home in every way that matters.

#ducktales #darkwing duck #gosalyn mallard #drake mallard #officer cabrera #m'ma cabrera #launchpad mcquack #tw child abuse #tw running away #fanfic #mine!#jay’s fics #my longest fic & my proudest work please leave me a comment or whatever on it #also this is my last big dt17 gos hurrah before we see her! we've almost made it!

67 notes · View notes

stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

Where Is Your Guilt || Kyle and Bex (ft. Morgan)

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @darkh0wl @inbextween and @mor-beck-more-problems SUMMARY: Bex and Kyle meet up at the campus café to try and relieve each other of their guilt. Narrator voice: It went poorly. CONTENT: PTSD flashback, Panic attack, Sad wolf boi and sad witch gorl

Bex paced. Her chest was pounding with nerves. It didn’t hurt so much today, it was getting better, really. It didn’t hurt so much. She could do this, she could see Kyle. She could, really. She just had to keep telling herself that she was safe, that this was okay. That he wasn’t going to hurt her. Of course he wasn’t. This was nothing like the circumstances that brought the incident on. There was no mind link, no essay to write, no panic attack. No anger, no moon, no night. It was the middle of the day, in a crowded cafe. Well, not crowded. Bex didn’t like crowded places and she assume Kyle wouldn’t either. Especially for this. She paced outside because sitting seemed too hard right now, even if her chest was beginning to hurt from all the movement. She rubbed it and paused and tried to collect herself. She needed to calm down, lest her magic go haywire again. She couldn’t let it hurt him again. A familiar voice, Bex looked up. Across the way, Kyle was heading towards her. She wanted to run to him, to hug him, to reassure him everything was okay-- but something glued her to her spot and her entire body froze up.

Kyle had debated not coming. He had debated laying in bed forever and deleting Bex’s number. That was stupid. Of course he had to come, he nearly killed her. The least he could do was show up (in a well lit, well populated area,) and apologize to her face. If he could even look her in the eye after what he’d done. He had sat in his Jeep, staring at the wheel and willing himself to get out of the car. He had taken his time making sure he didn’t look like the sleepless zombie he felt himself to be. When he thought he could keep Bex waiting no longer, Kyle took a deep breath to ground himself, and he headed toward the cafe on the UMWC campus. It wasn’t as heavily populated as he had hoped. Maybe extra eyes on him could have been incentive enough to keep his shit together. That was fine, he would just have to keep himself calm. That was doable. As he approached, he called out. “Bex! Hey.” At least she knew he was coming this time. He hoped that when he waved, she couldn’t tell how badly his hands shook. He shoved his hands in his pockets to try to mask the anxious shaking. “How are you?” he asked, as he closed the distance between them, concern written across his face.

Bex stepped back as Kyle approached. She didn’t mean to, but she did, and her back hit the door as someone pushed it open and she jumped away, apologizing profusely. She turned back to Kyle, her hands were already shaking. She immediately knew-- this was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. She looked at him and she saw red eyes glowing and she heard his voice in her head-- Prey, hunt, kill-- and she felt claws in her chest. She tried to open her mouth to respond but couldn’t get anything out. Drew in a breath in an attempt to calm herself down. This wasn’t that. This wasn’t then. She was fine. She was fine. “I’m-- okay. I’m doing-- I’m-- fine.” She withdrew her arms and tucked them tightly over her chest, folding into herself. “I--” her eyes tried their best to scan the boy. He looked okay, physically, but she knew he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He was hit by a car. He was forced to change into a rabid animal. He had almost killed her. Bex took another step away. “Are you? O-okay? Please just...tell me y-you’re not taking all this on a-alone?”

Something about Bex’s body language was off. Kyle’s brow knitted together and he listened carefully to her. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and nodded. “Fine,” he said, his voice sounding more hoarse than he expected. He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. “I’m doing fine.” Kyle’s hands were clenched into fists in his pockets. It was hard to look at her because some animalistic part of his brain still wanted to see prey. He had to take a steadying breath when he looked back up at Bex. “I’m-- I mean I guess I’m alone. It’s okay. You-- How are you doing with things? Are--are you healing?” His eyes drifted over Bex. The way she hugged her own chest broke his heart. He did that to her. What if they had never been in the library at the same time? Would things have shook out the way they did? Would Bex be better off? He looked down at his feet again in an attempt to make Bex feel like she wasn’t staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. “Do you want to sit?” he mumbled at the ground.

So they were both liars then, huh? Bex didn’t know what to do anymore. Morgan had been right, this was a bad idea. Wasn’t she always right? Had Bex really not learned that lesson by now? She shook off the thoughts and looked over at Kyle. He looked almost as afraid and in pain as she was. He hid it better. She tucked her chin into her shoulder. “You’re not fine,” she muttered, turning to look around at the patio outside. Did she want to sit? No, she wanted to leave. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest again. Her throat felt tight. Her body shook in a cold sweat. “You shouldn’t b-be alone. It’s not fair. I-- you deserve to have people helping you. Please, please don’t--” she paused, swallowed, “don’t take this all on yourself. It-- it’s my fault, t-too. Please.” She begged, finally feeling brave enough to step towards him. She reached out, unfurling her arms. She wanted so bad to reassure him, but, instead, a vision flashed before her eyes. The alley, the angry wolf. Running. Cold, hard ground on her back. She saw his eyes and his teeth and claws-- and she screamed.

“No, no,” Kyle began, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear about how it’s your fault. It’s not.” He could hear the way her heartbeat picked up. He hadn’t even been listening for it, but became aware of it as it sped up. She wasn’t doing okay, and it was his fault. She was panicking and it was his fault. Kyle was ready to call the whole thing quits. He wanted to turn and walk away right now. This had been a bad idea, and he shouldn’t have agreed to it last night. Truthfully, he’d only agreed because it seemed like it might make her feel better. He had hoped she’d bring Mina or Morgan or, hell, even Nell. He hadn’t wanted her to come alone. But here they were, and Bex was trying to tell him not to take this on alone and that it was her fault. That hurt to hear. Kyle had sincerely fucked this girl’s whole life up in one go, hadn’t he? He took her whole world and just flipped it on its head because he couldn’t keep his cool for five fucking minutes. “Bex, this isn’t your fault,” he said, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something more, but then Bex was screaming. Kyle’s eyes flew back open and he froze. The same feeling started rising in his chest; he began to feel that familiar, but pressing, urge to shift. Breathe. Breathe. “Breathe.” Was he saying that outloud? Fuck.

No, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen again. This wasn’t the same. Breathe. Bex put her hands over her ears and sank to the ground. It was happening again. It was happening again. It was like waking up from all of her nightmares of it again, and again, and again. There was a pressure on her chest again and she gasped for breath. Breathe. Who was saying that? Was she saying that? Tear filled eyes looked around wildly. She saw faces, but they blurred into street lights. She remembered how they flickered above her. Remembered how they’d cast shadows onto the wolf as it charged from the alley and right towards her. “Stop it!” she shouted, reaching out and shoving whoever was in front of her. Hands found purchase on something solid and she pushed herself up, trying to get away from the alley-- the building. She needed space. She needed to breathe. She collapsed just shy of the grass, on her hands and knees, clutching her chest. Had she made it far enough away? She could feel magic seeping from her hands. The grass in front of her decayed in an instant. The sidewalk cracked under her fingertips. She needed to calm down. She couldn’t calm down. She put her head in her hands again and curled into a ball. This had been such a bad idea. She wished she’d never came. She wished she’d never met Kyle. She wished she didn’t have magic.

The push was unexpected, and Kyle stumbled backwards, landing on his butt. He barely felt it, eyes locked on Bex. At this point, Kyle was aware that spellcasters existed. He knew the effects magic could have on two people; the way it could make two divergent paths become one. He knew that Nell had healed Bex, too, and that it wasn’t always destructive. But something about seeing it right in front of his eyes--the way the grass just up and died, the way the sidewalk fractured like fault lines--made him feel as if he weren’t real. Mouth agape, Kyle stared at her for a long moment, before he jolted back to his senses and went to her side. “Bex? Bex, it’s--it’s okay, I’m--I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” That sick little instinct at the back of his mind called him a liar. He did want to hurt her. He wanted to attack her again. But watching Bex curl up like that had him shaking his head. He had to stop thinking and do something about this. He knelt down beside her and tentatively put a shaking hand on her shoulder. “I won’t hurt you again I--I can’t hurt you again. It’s okay!” Should he call someone? Should he leave? He couldn’t leave her like this, right? This was his fault, he needed to fix it. He needed to do something.

She knew. Logically, she knew. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He wasn’t. Really. Hadn’t she told Morgan that? And Mina? And Nell? So, then, why didn’t she believe it. Her heart seized again at the sound of his voice. Bex doubled over, clutching her stomach. She felt sick. Her body was shaking, she couldn’t control her thoughts anymore. “Go away!” she shouted into the grass. Her body shimmered, glowed, a hazy piece of herself breaking away for only a moment. She wanted out of this moment. She wanted to run away. “Don’t touch me!” She didn’t even notice the bystanders at the cafe staring them down. Discussing whether to call campus security or the police or the medical staff. Bex’s breathing began to wheeze, as if she couldn’t get enough air to her lungs. The nearby lamps began to hum with the low pulse of energy. She needed to reign herself in, she was going to hurt someone again. But every time she opened her eyes, she just saw the wolf atop her. Teeth sharp, eyes full of bloodlust. He wanted to kill her. He was going to kill her. She could remember the thoughts echoing in her head. Prey. Hunt. Kill. “Stop, please!” she cried out. “Please, I don’t want to die, please.” And she hadn’t meant to, but she couldn’t control herself, could she? But her mind, her magic, it made them all see. Everyone nearby. Flashes of the wolf. The pain she’d felt as claws dug into her chest. The fear she’d felt when she was sure he was going to kill her. Now, she wasn’t the only one screaming. “Make it stop,” she sobbed, “please make it stop.”

Running his hands through his hair, Kyle stood up and backed away from Bex. This was bad. This was really, really bad. She hated him, and that thought was making him spiral. He dragged his hands over his face. “Focus, focus, focus.” He had to call someone who knew what they were doing. His hands fumbled for his phone, and he called Morgan, thanking the gods that he’d saved her number the day he was in the art studio. The second Morgan picked up, Kyle was already speaking. “Morgan, it’s Kyle. The campus cafe, you need--Bex--she’s-- Get here. Now.” He couldn’t keep the feeling at bay for much longer, though he was surprised with himself that he’d been able to at all. He was going to shift, and it was going to happen soon, if he didn’t calm down. He just needed to wait for Morgan to get here. Then he could go. Morgan just had to get here.

Morgan was in her office when she got the call. She didn’t pack up her things so much as she shoved as much as she could with one sweep of her arm, and everything left, books, charging cables, Pyrex, papers, whatever the hell, didn’t matter. She took the steps two at a time, shamelessly shoving students and faculty out of her way until she could sprint down the quad to the cafe.

“Bex!” She called. Kyle paced fastidiously nearby, his body hunched and tense. Which made the shape face-planted in the ground Bex. “Bexley!” She dropped her bag, tired of it banging and rattling uselessly against her side. Then she threw herself onto the girl, wrapping her up and pulling her up. “Bex, hey-- Honey, hey--” Bex thrashed in her arms, shaking with panic and terror. Morgan bundled her tighter against her chest. She looked up at Kyle, pleading for answers. “What happened? Is she hurt? Did you do something?” Around her, lights groaned and flickered. Sparks flew out from the nearest lamp. At the cafe tables, students were trembling and whimpering, an eerie chorus, out of tune in a way that reminded her of the worst of fae magic. “Tell me what’s happening!”

Bex felt something pulling her up and she lashed out, thrashing. “Don’t!” she cried out, not seeing who it was, not knowing who it was. “Don’t touch me!” But the grip just tightened. She cried out in anguish, lost in the memory that was consuming her mind. Pressure, like on her chest, claws digging in. She pushed and shoved and squirmed but she couldn’t get away. She couldn’t get away. She was losing control. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. She inhaled sharply-- a lamp finally shattered. Exhaled-- the sidewalk splintered more, like tremors in the ground. Her body shook inside the vice grip she knew she couldn’t escape. “Please don’t,” she begged, she pleaded, her eyes seeing straight through Morgan, straight through Kyle, and looking up at the wolf, “please don’t kill me.”

There wasn’t time to answer Morgan’s questions. Not with all these innocent people around. Not with Bex reliving what he’d already done to her. Not with the kindness Morgan had shown him when he least deserved it. “She-- I don’t know, Morgan! I don’t know! She was screaming and she’s--It’s me! I-it’s happening again, and I can’t let it.” He couldn’t breathe. His eyes glinted in the light cast from the sparks that showered down from the lamps around them. “I have to go,” Kyle said breathlessly. He was already discarding his jacket and shoes and phone and keys beside Morgan’s bag. He couldn’t afford to buy new clothes every time this happened, and it was happening with an unexpected frequency as of late. He had to go. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, turning and running for the forest as quickly as he could.

It hurt. His body was still so sore, his skin still so raw. No time. Can’t breathe. Kyle hadn’t made it more than ten yards into the woods--his shirt and pants discarded just beyond the treeline--before he was stumbling to his knees. His claws dug into the earth. What if he was still too close? He could hear Bex’s screams in the not so far distance. What if he turned around to go back after them? What if he couldn’t stop this time? There wasn’t enough time to follow that line of thinking all the way to the conclusion before Kyle was fully shifting. It took him a few minutes to recover. He took in a deep breath and he could smell fear. Kyle rounded on his heels, ears pricked as he listened intently. Please don’t kill me. He stilled. Head up, eyes darting around in search of an easy meal, Kyle slowly stalked forward. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind him. He whipped around, spotting a wolpertinger crouched under some low brush. The beast took off, Kyle took off after it, and he was gone.

“Kyle, no. Kyle, wait!” Morgan cried. But he was long gone and as much as it pained her to see him retreating, shamefaced over something he couldn’t carry, it was a lot easier to deal with one superpowered oversized kid than two. Morgan sighed, lamenting silently. (Someone had to do better for him, someone had to care for him, show him that he didn’t have to make such a mess or be so alone.) Then she turned the rest of her attention on Bex.

“Hey,” she cooed. “You’re safe, Bex. No one is going to hurt you. I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you’re here with me.” She spoke her words softly and steadily into the girl’s ear, the way Deirdre did for her during her worst moments. “You’re with me. You’re safe. And you’re not in that alley, you’re here. You have to breathe until you find your way back to me, honey. Can you breathe a little slower, like I showed you?” Morgan tapped the rhythm on her arm and squeezed her tighter still. If she dislocated something, she’d pop it back into place and apologize later.

Words began to break through her facade. You’re with me, you’re safe. You’re not in that alley. Bex slammed her eyes shut and did her best to listen to them, panting with exhaustion as she tried her best to breath. In for three, out for five. A steady rhythm being tapped on her arm. The grip around her tightening, shifting from a painful reminder, to a place where she knew she was safe. The arms were cold, the grip was warm. Morgan. Bex inhaled sharply as she suddenly snapped from her flashback, blinking rapidly. She tried her best not to hyperventilate, sucking in air, collapsing into Morgan’s arm from the stiff, frightened ball she’d tried to curl into before. She let her entire weight lean against Morgan, clutching her chest as she tried to breathe. Just breathe. Kyle’s words. Just breathe. She’d done it again. She’d ruined everything again. She should’ve just stayed home. She didn’t cry this time, just let her body grow limp against Morgan. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed, finally finding enough air in her lungs to speak, “I made it worse. I’m sorry.” Monotone words mumbled into her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes lifted to the treeline, off behind Morgan’s shoulder. Kyle was spiraling into a world of hurt and loneliness and it was all her fault. She’d find a way to fix it. She’d do better next time. She’d fix it even if it meant tearing herself apart.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #too much too soon #chatzy: kyle #chatzy: morgan #kyle #morgan #//OKAY this is probably the last one for now #/for now/#anyway it's short and sweet :)#so soft :))

8 notes · View notes

lilyharvord · 4 years

Text

The Chain (Part 6)

Main Concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.

Find Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

tag list: @delilahlbard @king-maven-calore @thatoddgirl777 @elliekratzzz @evangelineartemiasamos @evangeline-of-montfort @scxrletguardsdawn @freaky-freiday @redqueenetwork @petergrantkavinsky @kuwei @whatsup-gorls (let me know if you want a tag (((((: )

(<Cal>)

Waiting is the hard part. I’ve always considered myself patient, even if I’m not at times. But this, this is a new level. It takes everything just to keep from pacing the room.

I thought I was going to throw up when Elara’s dress had disappeared down the stairs after the Sentinels carrying Mare. She was so certain that she could handle this, but what if Elara found something? I couldn’t care less if it was about me or what I will do in the futuer. I could take Elara his time. But if she hurts Mare, or forces her to regress to a state where I can’t pull her back from the brink like I did before, I don’t know if I would be able to live with letting Elara take her willingly.

It feels like it’s been hours. Did it take this long the first time? I don’t remember. I should though. Even the first time I have been sweating and panicking, albeit for a much different reason. Elara had figured the truth about out meeting out anyway.

The door opens with whisper, and I freeze near the window of my father’s study. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I force even inhales and exhales as Elara stalks into the room, her heels clicking against the wood until she steps on the carpet.

“She’s Red through and through.” She simply states. I almost can’t hear it over the roar of blood in my ears.

“And the terrorists?”

“She isn’t associated with them.” Elara murmurs and the whispers of silk brushing on wood announces her moving again. I let out the breath I’d been holding, trying to be discrete. When I glance over my shoulder though, it’s to see them so engrossed in dealing with the problem that I am only a decoration at this point. Good, so far everything was progressing the way I remembered. Elara could be keeping things to herself though. She’d kept plenty to herself in the months leading up to what happened in Archeon. If she had seen something about Montfort or the Guard in Mare’s memories she would keep it to herself, and start putting plans together behind the curtains. I had half a mind to warn Dane, not that he would need help scheming against Elara.

I need a test, something to see if she does know more than she is letting on. Stepping away from the window I ask, “How did she get here?” I never asked that question. I know that. I had sat quietly by the window while Elara told my father everything she had discovered. This would throw her. If she did see everything, then she would search my mind for the truth, and possibly reveal that it was my fault Mare was here. If she did either, I would know.

Elara’s icy gaze snaps to me, but I square my shoulders. I imagine my head as a hall of mirrors, reflecting my thoughts back at her. Behind those mirrors is everything I know, and my true thoughts. If she looks into my mind, she’ll only see what I want her to see, and I can lead her down any path I want because of that. She’ll think she’s the one doing the searching the entire time though, and I’ll feel her there. It’s an old trick that Carmadon did his best to teach. Mare wanted to learn it first. I could understand why too. After Samson and Elara both ripped her mind to pieces, it only made sense that she would never want it to happen again. I learned too, more for curiosity’s sake. I couldn’t be more grateful for that decision now.

There isn’t even a shadow of her in my head when she says, “One of the servants retrieved her, but it’s unclear who ordered her here.”

It’s the best answer I can get. I release the tension in my shoulders as she turns back to father at his desk, her face a mask of stone. “She is the last thing we need.”

He’s quiet for a long time, simply watching Elara’s face. I’d been so oblivious to the battle of wills between them my entire life. Knowing what hides behind Elara’s mask though lets me see the battle lines clearly. Elara has pushed a lot the past few years, and she’s winning. He must know that too. He’d be blind and stupid if he didn’t know that.

“She’s one girl, we could just remove her.” He eventually says, before leaning back and lacing his fingers together. Elara huffs at that, only to growl, “and the High Houses? What of them? Will we tell them she mysteriously vanished?” “Perhaps we should.”

“They’ll smell blood.” Elara sneers. For all her malicious plans, she does know the court. The Houses will need something to chew on to keep them quiet. The Mareena story works, it has just enough holes that they’ll be so busy poking they won’t look in the right places. The perfect ruse.

“Then what will you have me do Elara? Parade her in front of the kingdom?” He grunts out a laugh, but Elara’s lips curl up in the tinniest of smiles. She was already putting her plan into motion in this office. I wonder if she’s whispering it to Maven who is sitting just a few feet away, his eyes on the light stretching across the carpet from the open window. I glance at him hesitantly, looking for any sort of reaction. He looks bored though, his chin resting on his fist. That doesn’t mean anything though. He could be listening to every word she says.

“We will hide her in plain sight.” Elara instructs quickly. Her eyes darting to me only momentarily. I drop my eyes to the carpet, trying to count the different colors there as she continues to speak in a hushed whisper to my father. His face hardens with each passing second until he looks to me and says, “Out, take Maven with you.”

I remember this part well. They debate the intricacies without Maven and I present. Intricacies that will put Elara plan into motion permanently.

Pacing across the room, I set my hand on Maven’s shoulder. He tenses under my grip momentarily before rising from the chair and following me out of the double doors. They close with a click behind us.

We wait in the hallway, shoulder to shoulder. I need to speak with Mare, make sure she’s okay and that nothing slipped by. We also need to set up the next stage of our plan. We need to cover what happened after this, and I need her to tell me when exactly she met Farley so I can be on the lookout for Maven and Elara knowing more than they should. Or for anything suspicious. That is the only real test for them getting knowledge about the past from Mare.

Next to me, Maven adjusts the cuff of his suit and says, “Well, she certainly made today entertaining.”

I can’t smile or laugh, even though I should. I always laughed at his little asides. I’m so wrapped up in trying to out think Elara, that I can barely register his presence.

He steps in front of me at my prolonged silence, his eyes searching my face. I used to think it was because he was patiently waiting for me to speak, now I know he was a hunter, analyzing his prey. I crack a smile to hide my discomfort, watching his eyes as I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Evangeline come so close to crying.”

He laughs, and the sound makes my chest ache. It sounds so real. Is it? How much was really him? I wish I knew for sure.

The door behind us opens before I can get in a deeper hole and Elara steps out followed by father who carries Mare’s folder in his hand. While I know the truth of their relationship, they are still a striking couple. Her every feature is the opposite of his. I wonder if Maven always wished he looked more like his mother and less like our father.

“Send Lucas Samos for the girl. Bring her to the throne room.” My father orders the Sentinel waiting by the doors with a wave of his hand. Without waiting to see if the order is being followed, he starts down the hallway to the throne room. We must be there early enough to ensure proper placement. Our placement before Mare will be important. She’ll need to see the strength and power of the royal family, and my father will place us so that she sees exactly that.

We don’t wait for an order either, and follow him. The silence is so heavy I can hear Elara’s skirts hissing as she walks. There is not backing out of this now. I wish I had just grabbed Mare and run with her last night. I would have found us an airship, or anything to get us to Montfort. We would have been there by now and all of this might have been dealt with. I should have told her to hell with Jon’s advice. I know better. I’ve known better for years than to believe anything that man says.

The throne room is empty, and the throne has been moved back a few feet by some telkies and probably a magnetron. They want Mare to make the long walk down the hall and see all of it. My father wants her to be afraid. He won’t get that effect this time around though. Mare hates this place, and she’ll let that show on every inch of her face.

Maven takes his place first, giving me enough space on his right side for me to slide between him and our father’s throne. I step up on the dais and into my place. He glances at me for a moment and then asks, “If they order her to be executed, do you think Evangeline will demand the honor?”

My throat closes up at the memory of Evangeline and Ptolemus stalking us in the Bowl of Bones. I throw a glare at Maven that could melt steel, even though panic laces through my bones. Does he know that because Elara told him it will come to pass?

His face pales with blush though, and I immediately regret my reaction. I clasp my hands together behind my back and look toward the doors that Mare will be brought through. “She doesn’t deserve to die. She’s just a girl.” I hope he thinks my fury is there because I’m too soft.

Mare’s much more than just a girl. She’ll become more than that to him quickly too. I close my hands into fists at the thought. I promised Mare that I would never let him hurt her again. I swore that at the Notch and last night. Mare is more than capable of handling herself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect her. Especially from him and the memories he will bring back.

The doors into the room open and Lucas brings her in with guards surrounding her. Behind me, the warmth of the sun slides away as a Haven darkness the room. It’s dramatic and entirely unnecessary. No one can see into this room. But appearances are everything, and I’m slowly being reminded of that. I’d give anything for my slacks and shirts that I kept in my Montfort apartment. I can’t believe that years ago I missed these uniforms. They’re miserable. “You will kneel,” Elara orders, her voice soft as velvet.

Mare stands silently, staring her down before turning her eyes to my father. They flash with remorse for only a moment. “I will not.” She straightens her shoulders, every inch the warrior I remember her being with a different edge. This is Mare Barrow, not Mareena, not the Little Lightning Girl. This is the girl who came to exist between the peaks of Montfort, the one that threw a splatter of dough at me because I said something about her legs in a pair of pants, but turned around the next morning and beat me to a tie in a training ring. The girl whose brothers would wrestle me to the ground and threaten to dump me in the lake on a daily basis. My heart aches for that. As much as a part of me rejoices in seeing my father and brother again, I miss the Barrows.

“Do you enjoy your cell, girl?” My father asks his voice louder than it needs to be. Mare may be hard headed but she’s not deaf. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Still Mare purses her lips, refusing to bow. “It’s a little small.” She says as her eyes dance around the room taking everything in. In a few months we’ll be in a room very similar but she and Maven will be on their knees. Her eyes hold on Elara before she raises her chin and asks, “What do you want with me?” She’s surprisingly calm and the question is brutal in its bluntness. I wish I was a whisper so that I can tell her to at least pretend to be afraid.

Elara leans down, her hand closing around my father’s shoulder as she whispers in his ear, “I told you, she’s Red through and through—”

He waves her off with disinterest. Her hand grips his arm for another moment before she released it and draws back. It’s like watching a bird of prey release its catch to give it a bit of hope before it swoops in again. My stomach curls at the image.

“What I want concerning you is impossible.” My father snaps, and he might as well set Mare on fire with those words.

Mare huffs and twitches her head to the side to move her hair off her shoulder. She hasn’t looked this way once. She won’t either. Not as long as Maven stands next to me.

“Well, I’m not sorry you can’t kill me.” She grumbles as she looks to the side, picking a stop on the wall to glare at. She’ll have to look at him eventually. I wish I could be there to support her when she does. Instead I’m standing up here, being about as useful as a rock in a sinking ship.

My father tosses her file onto the floor. Her papers spill out, and Mare’s identification photo stares back at me. The fire I love sparks in her eyes as she looks at that photo. Her lips twist at the sight of the little smear of her blood there. I know what she’s thinking about. She’s thinking about a book of names. I’ve already started the hunt though, cataloguing Ada’s exact location, along with Nix, and Luther. Anyone else I could remember from the Notch I tried to find. I’d been mostly successful. I’d even found Dane’s name buried in the system. Of course, he’d been reported dead years ago.

“Mare Molly Barrow, born November seventeenth, 302 of the New Era, to Daniel and Ruth Barrow,” my father drawls as if he’s reading the paper and not the life story of a woman who will one day bring an end to our family dynasty. “You have no occupation and are scheduled for conscription on your next birthday. You attend school sparingly, your academic test scores are low, and you have a list of offenses that would land you in prison in most cities. Thievery, smuggling, resisting arrest, to name but a few. All together you are poor, rude, immoral, unintelligent, impoverished, bitter, stubborn, and a blight upon your village and my kingdom.”

I could laugh. If only my father knew what she would become. He would have to swallow his tongue. He might even respect her.

“And yet,” he continues as if what he’s said wasn’t enough, “You are also something else. Something I cannot fathom. You are Red and Silver both, a peculiarity with deadly consequences you cannot understand. So what am I do to with you?”

Mare only shrugs, as she looks down at her boots. “I suppose you could let me go?”

Elara’s laugh sends a shiver down my spine again. She steps forward just slightly and spits, “And what about the High Houses? Will they keep silent as well? Will they forget the little lightning girl in a red uniform?”

They never will.

“You know my advice Tiberias,” Elara adds, her eyes holding on my father. I wonder if she is whispering into his mind right now, twisting his mind to do her bidding. “And it will solve both our problems.”

I clench my fist, knowing what’s coming next. Mare seems to know too, because her jaw tightens. I wish I could stand beside her for this part. As if something as stupid as that could make a difference in this moment.

“We are going to hide you in plain sight where we can watch you, protect you, and attempt to understand you.” With a bored shrug, father turns his eyes to Elara, who nods. Swallowing tightly, I step forward and urge, “Father—“

Maven’s hand closes around my elbow, making sure I can’t move. Elara’s eyes dance to me for a moment, until Maven pulls me back into line. Father turns away though, already busy telling Mare the story she will play by.

Mare’s eyes finally glance my way as she says, “I don’t want to be a princess.” “It doesn’t matter what you want. You will marry my son Maven, and you’ll do it without putting a toe out of line.” He dismisses her abysmal refute with strong words. Mare’s jaw tightens, and she finally brings her eyes to Maven. I can hear her inhale, sharp as a knife. Next to me, Maven sputters and steps forward. “I don’t understand,” he blurts.

I grab his arm, holding him back as he tries to take quick steps forward. “She’s—why?”

“Quiet,” Elara snaps, making even me tense. “You will obey.”

Maven turns burning eyes on her, reminding me so much of the boy he is to become. Elara hardens though, refusing to back down until Maven slowly bows back. A battle of wills I’d missed before. No doubt she’s whispering her plan into his mind, curling her fist around his intentions.

Below us, Mare watches the entire thing, analyzing just as much as I am. She squeezes her hand into a fist and says, “This won’t help anyone.”

“Oh, but it will. For the first time in your rudimentary little life, you have a purpose.” The jab stings even me, and Mare flinches at it. “Here we are, in the early stages of a badly timed rebellion, with terrorist groups or freedom fighters, or whatever the hell these idiotic Red fools call themselves, blowing things up in the name of equality.”

Mare raises a brow, feigning interest. “The Scarlet Guard.” She corrects, her voice hard.

“You might be able to help us stop there from being any more.” Father completely ignores her, steamrolling over Mare’s words like they are nothing. I wish he’d listen though. If he did, he would have been surprised that Mare even knew the name of the Scarlet Guard. No one really did, and if they did, they were the people we had been looking for.

“And you think me marrying him will fix that?” She asks, her eyes darting to Maven and then away really quickly. She can barely hold his eye. This may have been bigger mistake than we originally thought. If Mare can’t even look at Maven, how is she supposed to pretend to trust him? Keep it together, I want to tell her, you’re almost there.

“My name is Maven,” he says, quietly. “And I still don’t understand.” His cheeks are flushed with what I know is fury. Before, I would have mistaken it for embarrassment at Mare’s lack of decorum, now I know better.

“If the Reds see her, a Silver by blood but Red by nature, raised up with us, they can be placated. It’s like a fairytale.” Mare’s eyes burn and I raise my chin to finish. “She’ll be their champion. And a distraction.” I add the last part hesitantly; the words sour in my mouth.

When I don’t say anything else, Mare’s eyes drop. Father straightens up in his throne filling the silence immediately. “This isn’t a request, Lady Titanos.”

Mare’s eyes snap up to him, her expression pulling tight.

“You will go through with this, and you will do it properly.”

Elara launches into her part, almost eagerly. As soon as she finishes Mare whispers, “My family—“

“What about them? Girl, you have fallen head over heels into a miracle.” Elara crows, furious that Mare would question any of this.

“Mare has a family, and she has a right to be worried about them.” I snap, drawing both Elara and Maven’s eyes. I tense at the slip, and Mare’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch. Swallowing, I bring my chin up and direct my next words to my father, “You would want the same for me or Maven if that were the case.” He huffs, and with shrug says, “Of course.” Drumming his fingers on the arm of the throne, he tilts his head to the side and says, “I suppose we’ll give them an allowance, keep them quiet.”

“I want my brothers brought back from the front.” Mare begins, pouncing on my father’s words, and stepping forward as she says them. Elara tenses but Mare only has eyes for my father as she continues with her demands. “And my friend, Kilorn Warren. Don’t let the legions take him.”

With a wave of his hand, Father agrees. “Done.”

Mare sags in relief, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her relaxed since we got into this mess. The doors open again, and Lucas returns with the guards. They grab Mare’s arms before turning her around and taking her from the room. I know exactly where they are going, but I wait until Father has risen from the throne, chuckling to himself. I watch him until he recognizes my stare. He gives me a smile, pleased that things are at least somewhat going his way. “Write those letters will you?”

“As long as they are sent out tonight before the feast.” I say, even though I know Shade is already gone. It was one of the first things I looked up when I woke up days ago. He’d already been accused of desertion. He was with the Guard and Farley long before I even guessed.

I step off the back of the dais with those words and head straight for the door that will take me to the back hallways that lead to the royal apartments. I try not to run, but i’m terrified that if I don’t pull Bree and Tramy off the lines soon enough that they won’t make it off. I won’t let them die so that I have to tell Mare that I lost two more of her brothers.

I know Maven’s following me long before I get to my rooms. I leave the door open for him to follow me in. He closes it behind him as I rush to my desk, pushing books aside while I search for official paper and a pen. Normally letters like that will be typed, but the faster it goes out, the better. I fly through Kilorn’s letter, barely registering what I’m writing.

Maven watches me in silence as I hunch over the desk. He waits for a second more before saying, “You know her.”

I don’t look up as I sign Kilorn’s letter. His needs to go to the recruitment office immediately. He should have already been drafted. The legionaries in the Stilts had always been slow though. Maven’s shoes click on the wood floor as he approaches my desk. He stops near my elbow and says, “You know her, Cal. How?”

“I met her outside a tavern.” I keep my reply short as I fold the letter and start on Bree’s. He watches my pen move, probably reading the words as I go. He leans his hip against the edge of the desk, and crosses his arms while I write in silence. He wants more. He won’t get any from me though.

I fold Bree’s and start Tramy’s in the silence. He shifts to get my attention but when I don’t reply, he says, “You got her this job.”

I nod, and then read over Tramy’s letter before folding it and searching for another piece of paper for Shade’s. “She was desperate. She needed it.”

“I didn’t realize you ran a charity case.” He mumbles before leaving me at my desk to throw himself on to my bed. I glance at him over my shoulder as he does that. He sinks into the blankets before looking around my room asking, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Shaking my head, I pull a piece of paper from the desk and hastily start Shade’s letter. The bedding shifts as Maven does. He’s purposefully trying to get my attention now. A few years ago, before I knew what was in his head, I would have laughed at his attempts. Now though, I’m on guard, watching every move. I pause from writing Shade’s letter to glance at Maven. He props himself up on his elbows and smiles at me. It’s so disarming, I can’t help but give him a little smile back. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

He nods in understanding before shifting and saying, “I’m not going to lie. I thought… that I would at least get a choice.”

I glance back at Shade’s letter to finish it. Was that a true statement? Probably. Elara forced him into this. Maybe it was his way of letting some of his true self slip out. My hand shakes as I sign the letter though. I tell myself it’s because I’m thinking about how it will do nothing, but I know that a part of me is thinking about Maven’s words and their implication. Had that been a cry for help that I missed? It certainly sounded like one.

“I’m sorry.” I say to Maven, and those two words mean so much more than what I intend. He raises a brow, as if sensing the depth of my words. With a tilt of his head, he says, “You don’t have to be. It’s my duty to do as I’m told.”

I fold Shade’s letter slowly and gather the other three. Turning to him, I approach the bed slowly. His eyes track my movement until I’m standing over him, and I don’t miss his cheek twitch as I set my hand on his leg. I swallow once more and whisper, “I’m truly sorry, Maven.”

The heat underneath my hand rises with the swell of emotions he tries to keep under the surface. Drawing my hand back I look away. “I’m going to turn these in, I’ll see you at the feast.”

I can feel his eyes on my back as I approach the door. Just as I’m turning the knob to leave, he speaks again, making me freeze.

“I know, Cal.” His voice is soft, and for a moment, I get a flash of a simple stone on a sandy bluff overlooking the ocean. He would have loved that. I had been right to bury him someplace quiet. I squeeze my hand into a fist, remembering how that shovel felt in my hands, and how the blisters had burned, torn, and bled while I dug six feet into the ground. Nanabel had been horrified when I’d gotten back with blood all over my pants from wiping my hands on them. She thought I had at least taken someone with me to do the digging. I had refused anyone’s help though. I’d been a coward to let Mare do what I should have done. I wouldn’t be that coward again. And he was my brother. I was going to bury him myself, whether or not anyone thought that was right.

Still, I give him a nod, showing him that I heard. He’s already on his path, and there is little that I think I can do for him. I can just be there for him, get him through this, and then bury him again. I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do that again though.

(/////) Mare’s rooms are at least on the way back from the offices of reports. It makes my trip back easier. I arrive just as they are putting the final touches on her. She pulls away when they reach for the earrings, and she almost grabs the girl’s wrist as she does so. “Leave those, please.”

I can’t help but smile as I clear my throat. The maids all look my way and drop into quick, identical curtsies. I bob my head to them and whisper, “Excuse us.”

They hurry out, and Mare slowly turns in the dress watching them leave. I approach slowly when the door closes, asking, “Cameras?”

“Off.” She says quickly. I tilt my head before reaching out to run my thumb along her cheek. The paint smears slightly and I whisper, “I forgot how odd you looked with this stuff.”

“How kind,” she teases me with a smile as she pushes my hand away and descends from the little platform she had been standing on. She doesn’t wobble in the shoes like I remember. Continuing to ignoring me, she sinks into the chair in front of the vanity, and picks up the brush to adjust the smudge I made in her makeup. I watch her back, and for a moment, it’s like we never left Montfort. I could picture her sitting at her vanity in our apartment fixing her hair before we go to a state dinner, or before she goes to work.

“You still look beautiful.” I whisper to her. She glances up at me in the mirror, and her lips quirk up just slightly.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.” I say as I approach her. I reach out to pick up a piece of hair that fell out near the back of her neck. I tuck it in, before holding my hand out for a pin. She gives it to me willingly before saying, “Anything suspicious?”

“Nothing.” I say as I slide the pin in place. I don’t mention Maven’s little comment. It didn’t hurt anything. Those words had been meant for me. She nods to me in the mirror, before rising and brushing out the wrinkles in her dress. Facing me, she makes a face at my uniform and reaches up to adjust my collar. Smoothing out the shoulders of my suit jacket she says softly, “She didn’t get anything I didn’t want her to get.”

“The letters went out.” I change the subject quickly. Still, I watch her hands as she brushes something off the jacket of my suit. This feels like the beginning again. All the sneaking around that came with our dance lessons. I feel like I’m trading code with her, and we’re dancing perfectly around the truth.

Nodding softly at my words, she releases a long exhale before dropping her hands. Her brows knit together before she sinks back onto the vanity school. Reaching up to massage her temple she whispers, “I don’t know if I can—I have to sit next to him tonight.”

Reaching out, I let my fingertips brush her exposed collarbone. She feels warm, and real, even if she’s painted to look like a lie. The tension rolls out of her shoulder as I squeeze it. I wish I could just take the pain away from her, and leave her numb for the hours that are to come. “You know what he is,” I whisper to her. My words draw her eyes which are darker than I ever remember them being. Even after Corros.

“I’ll only be a few seats away.” I brush a stubborn, loose curl away from her face. The imperfection reminds me that I used to push her mangled hair out of her face when she woke up in the morning. Trying to ignore the unease turning my stomach to a rolling mess, I take her hands and pull her to her feet. Even though I say those words with every intention of following through on their implication, when it comes down to it, I know I won’t be able to do anything. If she does need me, what can I do, squeeze her hand and smile? I’d done that the first time we went through this and it did shit all.

Shaking her head at my words, she squeezes my fingers in reply until I squeeze back. Leaning down, I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. She smells like jasmine, and cherry. Even here, in this nest of snakes, she still manages to strike me.

“We could still try to run to Montfort. There’s time.”

She chuckles at my idea, but it lacks the usual bright undertone I know. When I open my eyes, she’s watching me intently, a soldier now, more than ever. “We can’t leave everyone. They may not know it, but they’re counting on us not messing up like you did this afternoon.”

I grimace and my ears burn immediately at the chastising comment. Calling her Mare might have alerted Elara to something. It certainly alerted Maven. “Like I said before, it’s a good thing it’s a suitable nickname for Mareena.”

She smacks my cheek playfully, and pulling out of my grip she gives me a smirk before passing me. Looking over her shoulder, her smirk falls as she asks, “Has it been hard… seeing your father?”

To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it until she asked. The ache I’d felt in my chest, I’d just assumed came from my thoughts constantly being occupied by my brother. From the moment I’d seen him for the first time, I’d felt like my lungs were going to collapse and my chest was going to cave in. Being around him was like drowning. I couldn’t breathe, could barely think clearly. Throughout the war against him, all I could think about was what I would give to have these moments back. I’d realized last night that I didn’t want the moments themselves though, I wanted the ignorance that came with them. I wanted to see my brother again, the happy, laughing boy I thought I remembered. Whenever I look at him though, I only see the shell he is to become. I couldn’t save him before, and now, that knowledge only hurts more.

“I haven’t really seen him.” I rub at the back of my neck, uncomfortable with that knowledge. Her face falls even further. There is nothing she can say though. Reaching out, she brushes her fingertips along the back of my hand. “Cameras are back on.”

I let my pinkie brush hers, and listen to her footsteps as she leaves the room.

45 notes · View notes

magichcuse · 3 years

Text

A bunch of Jove related hcs bc I want to consolidate them:

Walter makes at least seven copies of the letter he wrote in preparation of the worst because he was worried Dedrick would destroy it upon seeing it's from him.

The letter informs Dedrick of his death...and the next ten pages of it is all about how to take care of Jove. He includes every little thing he think of because he wants to ensure Dedrick can take the best care of Jove and make the hypothetical transition easier for him.

Evelynn becomes Jove's familiar after Walter passes and she's VERY excited to see Dedrick again. The gorl missed him a lot lol

Jove tries hiding anything he got from Walter because he knows that Dedrick hates Walter, to the point he immediately scrambles to put photo albums/trinkets away whenever Dedrick walks in his room. Of course, this sometimes leads to Jove losing important things and lowkey panicking, trying to find what he misplaced without alarming Dedrick.

In the same vein, Jove was worried about Dedrick hating/resenting him because he's Walter's son and Dedrick has bad feelings about Walter.

Vivian would provide Dedrick and support if he needed it; though she wouldn't want to take Jove in herself because [1] Walter left Jove with Dedrick and she doesn't want to go against his wishes no matter how he treated her, [2] she has enough on her hands as is, and [3] she thinks Dedrick could benefit from having Jove around. Vivi knows Dedrick likes his solitude, but she still worries about him because of what happened whenever Patrick was left alone for too long.

Thaddeus would want to bond over the both of them being fathers, though Vivi tries to keep him from being too upfront because she knows how Dedrick feels about being considered a father.

Evelynn would have to be the one who tells Dedrick about how Jove is feeling and what he wants because Jove doesn't want to bother him too much.

After Jove feels more comfortable around Dedrick, he'd start leaving little potions for him. They're nowhere near as impressive as the things Dedrick can create, but it's Jove's way of showing he loves him.

#{behind the magic} | ooc #headcanons

2 notes · View notes

viewfromthevault · 3 years

Note

Maas effect asks 2, 4,8, 16

2. Share a screenshot of your main Shepard

I don’t take enough screenshots of the gorl

4. Colonist, Earthborn or Spacer?

Rhea’s an earthborn Shepard because I wanted her to be a spunky little kid with street smarts and a bad relationship with authority. And also the opportunity for Found Family was too good to pass up (not that the trope wouldn’t apply to the other two)

8. Share a headcanon about your main Shepard

I’ve mentioned it before, but her biological father is Zaeed. Long story short, he worked as a security guard at the eezo rig her mother worked at. Their relationship was casual but had potential to become something more until she wound up pregnant and he panicked and bolted. Decades later Zaeed’s aboard the Normandy where he finds its commanding officer to be eerily familiar and ends up putting two and two together. He refrains from telling Rhea until the Reaper War.

16. Your favourite mission in ME/ME2/ME3?

ME:

Might be the mission on Feros. I liked the spooky atmosphere of “something’s not right with this colony.” And I thought that the thorian was a neat but scary plant monster.

ME2:

It’d have to be the suicide mission. I enjoy plotting out which character to use where for story telling purposes. And now that I know the criteria needed to keep the entire squad alive it’s more fun than it is stressful.

ME3:

That’d be the mission to cure the genophage on tuchanka. I had wanted to cure it since the first game and to finally be able to was great. It was also a very bittersweet ending what with losing a friend to help another. And when Wrex calls Shepard his brother/sister I just lay on the floor crying happy tears because I live for that shit. That entire arch is my fave tbh

Mass Effect asks

#mass effect #rhea shepard #ask game #flowershirtandjeans #thank you for the ask!!

4 notes · View notes

afishcalledfatin · 5 years

Text

Dr SEO

ALL MY COVERS HAVE THE NAME INSOMNIAC BECAUSE THIS WAS FROM MY OTHER ACCOUNT!!

pairing: doctors! Johnny x female reader

summary: in which Johnny is a medical physician who makes dad jokes and uses vine references and like every typical fanfic, he falls in love with you.

Genre: FLUFF

A/N: Hello everyone! Fafa here, this is my first story and I hope you like it:)

He probably works in the emergency ward as an emergency physician

Now imagine Johnny in a white lab coat and scrubs. Oh, or a shirt and slacks. Oomph.

Everyone has a crush on him and his other doctor friends.

When he’s on break he starts telling dad jokes and puns to lighten the mood.

Now, imagine your schools popular and good looking guy group. It's just that these boys are doctors and aren’t assholes as everyone portrays. They are the sweetest bunch.

WILL WRITE ABOUT THEM TOO DON’T WORRY

He will also listen to your rant while tending to you.

“AND HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO PUSH ME LIKE THAT.” “mhm mhm whatta dick” as he cleans the blood off.

Patients are normally shook after seeing his face and height.

I mean, have you seen him? Hellur sur.

Will drink coffee all the time. No matter where he is, he's either holding a coffee mug or flask

Starts skipping in the ward when he sees Dr Jung with a bag of food that he bought for him.

“You are a blessing.” “Johnny, I have work to do.”

Sometimes uses memes and vine references for anything

*woman is freaking out over her son* “Calm down you don’t want to Panic! at the Disco.”

You can literally hear sighs and facepalms all around the ER.

Has a heavenly voice that can make any baby stop crying.

One of the most chillest doctors in the entire hospital right after Dr Moon.

He is either “sleep is for the weak or sleep for a week.”

Can be a bit worrying sometimes.

Will probably buy you a drink if you did well in a surgery or something. If you’re extra special, you might get a muffin. Only his group of friends have received muffins.

Ships residents, interns and nurses. He discusses it with his friends in the break room. Fan wars will occur.

“I ship [interns name] with [interns name].”

“exCUSE ME, DR LEE TAEYONG? I DISAGREE WHOLE HEARTEDLY.”

And you can suddenly hear a group of grown men arguing about which is the more superior ship.

Besides all the funny stuff, he is super dedicated and hardworking. He doesn’t care if he won’t meet someone, he is focused on working hard.

Scary Johnny is something you NEVER want to witness.

He will keep it all in before he snaps and boy it isn’t pretty. He has made residents and interns cry before but he would cool off and go talk with said person to have a better understanding with the problem. It doesn’t happen often though, so you must’ve really messed up if he yells at you.

Children love him. The hospital he works in is close to a school. So if any emergency happens, the teachers would send the student to that hospital.

Will visit the student if he/she gets admitted.

He would ask the student how they are feeling and would tell them to be more careful. Would get them a balloon or a flower arrangement.

He gets sad when he sees kids leave the hospital. He’s also happy that they are well. It’s a bittersweet feeling.

May seem intimidating but is honestly the biggest fluff.

According to the doctors, he gives the best hugs.

Yo, imagine a hug from Johnny. [ I NEED A FEW MINUTES TO CALM DOWN.]

Okay, I’m cool.

Anyways, how did he meet you?

Well, you transferred to his hospital because the board thinks you are super talented in your job and all that jazz. You were also an emergency physician.

You and Dr Nakamoto were friends in Medical school. When he found out you were gonna work in his hospital, he wanted you to meet all of his friends.

When you met them, you died on the inside. HOW ARE THEY ALL SO GOOD LOOKING?

You had met everyone but Dr Seo. After your meeting, you were given a tour by Yuta.

“Oh, we might meet Dr Seo there.” You were really worried that Yuta’s friends might not like you but he reassured you that they already loved you.

“IS THAT NAKAMOTO YUTA? IN THE EMERGENCY WARD?” You hear someone yell out.

You suddenly see a tall ass boi running towards the both of you.

Yknow how you died on the inside when you saw the doctors? Yeah, you were officially deceased when you saw Dr Seo.

He was wearing his scrubs and his black hair was slightly messy. His smile was adorable and he was exceptionally fit.

When Johnny saw you, his first thought was “oh my god shes so small. must protect.” Then again he was the height of a coconut tree.

You introduced yourself to him and told him you were excited to start working with him.

And low and behold, the Dr Seo was blushing.

“Hyung, are you blushing?” Yuta laughed. Johnny covered his face. “No… the weather has been so hot recently and OH MY GOD LOOK AT THE TIME DR NAKAMOTO YOU SHOULD GET BACK TO WORK.” He ran away.

Dr Nakamoto nudges you “You see? You’ll be fine.” He leaves you there dumbfounded.

You get started on work. You start to get to know Dr Seo and how funny he is.

When you both have nothing to do, you have a dad jokes war.

You’re pretty sure the nurses are tired of hearing them.

One day, a huge accident happened which included several kids. Alot of them lost their lives and you felt most responsible. They had lost too much blood and they arrived at the hospital late.

You sat in that room crying your eyes out. The blood of so many on your scrubs. You scolded yourself on how you could’ve and should’ve done better.

You didn’t even know Johnny was looking for you. Truth to be told, he was starting to have feelings for you. You were dedicated and understanding. You were a complete dork but when you were being professional, he would find that hot.

You heard the door slowly open.

“Y/N?” You heard him say.

He sat in front of you and placed you in his lap. You hugged him tightly and cried in the crook of his neck.

He rubbed soothing circles on your back. His other hand stroking your head softly. He kissed your temple. Telling you everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, shhh. You worked hard and long today. Those kids are in a better place now. They would be telling you that you did well and that they are happier now.” He said softly. This was the first time you broke down in front of him.

You felt better and the both of you started getting closer. He would hug you if he noticed you were feeling down. You would also do the same. The hugs were a source of comfort for both of you. When both of you hugged, everything you worried about was suddenly gone.

You would also notice how he got you muffins after every surgery.

The other doctors also noticed this and would tease you both.

One night, the both of you were allowed to go sleep for a few hours because your shift ended. You slept on the top bunk while he slept on the bottom bunk.

A few hours into your nap, you suddenly heard Johnny scream. You fell off the top bunk and groaned. You sat there for a few seconds before you heard a soft sob.

You looked up at him and you found him crying in his sleep.

You woke him up and he looked at you with red eyes.

“Oh Johnny…” you crawled into bed with him and you let him cry. He hugged you tightly. Softly crying into your chest.

A few hours later, the both of you talked about it.

When he first transfered to the hospital, he was already in the emergency ward. An old friend of his had been hit by a car. He panicked when he saw him and he couldn’t function properly. The friend died and he has dreams of that friend.

“I was new, I couldn’t process that he was lying there unconscious and bloody. I thought everything was a lie and my seniors told me to get a grip. I wasn’t quick enough and he…” he broke down once more.

You automatically held him.

Both of you were there for each other and without realising you’ve fallen for each other.

Mark and Donghyuck would tease the both of you the most.

Johnny would talk about how much he liked you to Jaehyun and Taeyong.

You would tell the same thing to Sicheng.

One night, you overheard Sicheng tell Taeyong that you liked Johnny. You were about to scold Sicheng but you also heard Taeyong tell him that Johnny liked you.

“Johnny really loves her man. He would always tell me stories of her and ask me how he should tell her. This is the first time I’ve seen him like this.”

You texted Johnny. “URGENT! NEED TO TALK TO YOU RN! MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT! OUR ROOM.”

“GORL CALM DOWN IM ALREADY THERE.”

You let out a shaky breath as you turned the knob.

“Why? What happened?” He asked urgently. You looked at him.

“Seo Youngho.” Johnny’s eyes widen. “Oh my god I swear to god I didn’t do it.” You laugh and ran to him with open arms. Your hug was so strong it pushed both of you onto the sofa.

“Oof, sis I get it I’m nice to hug.” He said underneath you. You giggled as you looked down at him. He pushed a strand of your hand behind your ear.

HERES IT COMES

so, your confident ass kissed Mr Seo.

And he was not expecting it.

“Oh shit, Johnny I’m sorry.” You were about to get off but he pulled you back down and kissed you back, more passionately.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that to happen.” He kissed you again, his soft lips moving against yours.

“Soo, I guess both of you are official now?” Doyoung says as he stood in front of the door.

You jumped off of Johnny.

“BRO?” He says. Doyoung smiles and runs off to tell the rest of the group.

You sat there, slightly blushing. He slings his arm around your shoulder. You lean on his shoulder.

“We should prepare for the teasing.” “Yeah, we could or we could stay here and continue?”

He locks the door and pulls you back into a kiss.

Hello~ I don’t actually know how the medical world works, I only know the basics. I deeply apologize if there are mistakes

Credits to the owner of the photo.

#nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nctzen #nct blurbs #nct bulletpoints #johnny fluff #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny blurbs #johnny bulletpoints

201 notes · View notes