#they still have me by the balls when it comes to toxic death spiral of a relationship to think about

[mlynar-nearl]

i wanted to phrase some of these earlier to @queerchorus but i didnt have the braincells so i made some nice lolix toxic relationship edits using ghost lyrics that have made me think about them again lately as a nice surprise for them to rb.

[darkness at the heart of my love - first two] [griftwood - second two] [cirice - last one]

[clingtomefic]

Meet the Daughters McIntyre and Hunnicutt!

(These are headcanons from my 90s AU, Cling to Me)

Left to Right:

Cathy McIntyre (Age 7): Louise's youngest daughter, definitely Trap's, Louise tested to be sure, she couldn't handle round two of the gossip. She's a bottlerocket in a soda can, they enrolled her in cheerleading and gymnastics just so Louise had a chance of getting her to bed on time. She is the Bubbles of this trio, following the girls around and insisting she gets to participate in their secret clubs and Spice Girl skits.

Erin Hunnicutt (Age 10): This is Peg's daughter, the ace student of the group, sardonic and pretty with a short bob to match. She's already playing highschoolers in chess and helps Becky with her math. She's Cathy and Becky's half-sister, and technically Trapper's, though their combined parents are so much less particular about that than the rest of Boston.

Becky, Rebecca, BB McIntyre: Louise's oldest child! The joke is that even though she's BJ's, she's really, really Trapper's. She opens her mouth and Trap comes out, Louise has already caught her sneaking lipstick and short skirts into her backpack to change into once she gets to school. If she goes to school. She just started 6th grade and she's kind of over this whole thing, dad, can you pick her up and take her for coffee instead? This blows. She's still awake when Trap gets home sometimes, reading on the couch. He calls her BB because when she was three, she shot him in the balls with his own bb pistol at the family BBQ. BJ tells that story every chance he gets.

And finally, the WTF? ....Context:

So, BJ and Peg were an RV couple for a few years after he finished med school. He was making up the time to her. They toured the US trying to decide where to settle down, and sampled a few swingers clubs along the way. In Boston, they met Louise and Trap, and the four hit it off famously. BFFWBs, it was a glorious, sexy time for all parties. When Louise ended up pregnant, it was a total cointoss which of them was the father, and Trap was so over the moon to be having a child that he didn't care. Enter Becky!

BJ and Peg helped co-parent Becky in the early years, discovered they loved parenting, and Peg ended up pregnant a year or two later. Again, total cointoss on fatherhood. Things were still going as smoothly as polyamory in 90s would allow.

Then Louise gets pregnant again, and during the course of treatment, her mother finds out Becky isn't Trap's via a slip of the tongue from her doctor about inherited conditions. She assumes the worst, and rather than have a family discussion about it, she shames them via whisper-shout in front of the church congregation one Sunday.

Louise is beyond mortified. The reaction from their family and the rest of the church is AWFUL, it cuts her to the quick, where Trapper is like..."Fuck is it your business? Move on." and just picks a different church. Louise, however, starts getting the rough end of the gossip mill, and Trap's constant exhaustion/absence (Residency sucks) reads as indifference instead of numbness, so she starts to resent him. They spend the next two years soft-breaking up with BJ and Peg trying to do damage control (Trap doesn't want to), and slowly grow toxic with each other. Death of a marriage, in boxes in the basement. Trap's spiraling, drinking heavily by the time Becky's in fifth grade. He loses his job at the hospital, and goes on a bender that night that almost kills him. He realizes something has to change, so he starts looking for jobs in other states. He finds an opening at St. Jude's in Memphis, TN for a thoracic surgeon and jumps on it, moving ahead of the family. Instead of following him, Louise sends divorce papers. The fic starts from there.

@eltonjohndenver @remyfire

[getouswh0re]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, blood & gore, mass murdering, obsession, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: he would tear the entire world apart with his own hands, just to keep you by his side evermore.

****************************************************

Love is a lethal bliss.

Bearing semblance to momentary sweetness, it warms the cockles of your heart; yet before one could even savour it for long, in its honey-like aftertaste is a deadly poison — seeping through the branching veins and killing every cell of the living host within its reach. Soundlessly, life is sucked out as one discovers themselves teetering on a tightrope of death.

i) The ambience of the atmosphere between you and Gojo is silent, deadly — akin to the calming weather before a raging storm. As the two of you stand at opposite ends of the living room, eyes refusing to meet with the sorcerer’s as an expanse of sky blue smoulders holes into your soul. Feeling your limbs trembling from the intensity of his stare, cat got your tongue. The words you’ve meant to say are stuck at the back of your throat as the taller male shifts a step forward, and you unconsciously leaning back against the wall.

“Do we have to do this love?” You cringe at the feigned pain interlaced in your ex’s tone. “You know you don’t have to do this. This is painful for both you and I, and knowing how much you love me, you certainly don’t want to put both of us through all of this. Don’t you?”

You bite your lip, eyes downcast. 

You wish all of this isn’t necessary, that everything that has happened is nothing more than your imagination regarding the red flags displayed before your periphery. Still, you have to do it having mulled over it for a while. It is about time that all of this come to an end. 

Ever since a certain man called Gojo Satoru meandered into your life, everything changed as your feelings for the male blossomed, like fresh buds on the bare branches with remnants of snow thawing into tinges of spring. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reciprocate one another’s feelings, yet cracks gradually surface on what seemed like an all-too-perfect fairy tale, breaking the crystal ball of illusion that you had been trapped in throughout all these months. 

For as long as you could remember, Gojo has been acting out of character; sure enough he retains his childish personality and insufferable god complex, yet there are times when you could barely recognise him. On occasions he would whine for hours, desperate to gain your attention, and there were moments when he’d follow wherever you went. Initially dismissing his clinginess as his way of displaying affection, you didn’t think much about it. That was until his demeanour underwent a 180 degree shift; being overbearing was one thing, yet the sorcerer had the audacity to dictate your life and your social circle, stepping his foot way past the boundaries that even you thought was too much. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t give Gojo an opportunity to change for the better. You did; it was him who failed to reflect on his own mistakes, to take things for granted without realising he had been in the wrong all along. With those alarming signs of the relationship spiralling into a toxic one, it occurred to you that you should end things fast before circumstances aggravated. 

Love is a beautiful pain.

To relish its fleeting vestiges between their fingertips, one must endure the torment of its thorns. Not everyone has the courage to sacrifice their sanity for something so transient, but one — or maybe few, who are more than willing to pay for their price, would do anything to hold onto such evanescent reminisces close to their heart.

ii) “Come on y/n. You know you don’t want to break up with me, stop lying to your heart.” 

As if his saccharine smile isn’t enough to make bile surge up your throat, the lovelorn white-haired man stares at you with such adoration, making you revolted than ever; before you could even blink, he is already inches away, bringing up his slender fingers and caressing your cheeks with utter delicacy. 

“From the moment we met, it’s like the red strings of fate intertwining, akin to two worlds colliding.”

Feeling his breath tickling your frigid neck, goosebumps laminate your skin as you shudder underneath his lasting touches.

“Your heart belongs to me, and mine yours. It’s like the universe wants the two of us to be together — forever. Just stop denying your feelings, okay? I can hear your heartbeat ... it’s beating crazy, just for me.” 

“Gojo, you need to stop all of this —“

“Oh honey, don’t say that ... I know the look in those eyes.” He presses on, his insufferable ego refusing to give in. “You might be pushing me away, but your body does the exact opposite. You’re still in love with me. You care for me, I know you do.”

Perhaps that is what makes terrifying about the sorcerer. Wearing his usual smile on a deceptively charming face, his true thoughts are inscrutable beneath the unfazed facade; worst of all, you never know what would drive him off the edge, not until you experience triggering a ticking time bomb by accident.

“Gojo, hear me out.” You push the towering male away, determined than ever to cut ties with him for the sake of your own safety. “What you do is not love anymore. It’s ... obsession! And it’s suffocating me! If you truly cared about me you would’ve respected my wishes and opinions — but you didn’t. No matter how much you love someone, this is far beyond acceptable. I ... we need to break up, for the sake of both of us.”

Stunned, the remnants of hope flicker in the sorcerer’s azure eyes before dissipating into darkness, along with his despondent heart that has plummeted into abysmal depths of a bottomless void. Hands retracting from your skin, you heave out a sigh of relief when spine-chilling chortles echo from Gojo’s throat.

“You think that’s it? That I’ll let you go?” The crazed glint in his burning stare convinces you even more that breaking up with this delusional man is the only option to save yourself. Slowly backing towards the door, you have prepared yourself for the worst, making a potential run with a bag filled with your valuables.

“You cannot run away from me y/n! You know you can never escape from me. I will flip the world upside down to find you — and hunt you down! Want me to prove that? I will tear the entire world apart by my hands, just so that you won’t run away from me anymore!”

You finally make your run, sprinting out of your shared apartment as fast as you could whilst ignoring his shrilling screams, deciding to leave everything behind for good.

Love is an unprecedented enigma.

Like a never-ending Möbius strip, the red strings of fate intertwines people's fates — yet at the same time, it looms over everyone's lives like a doom of death, mercilessly tearing loved ones or those held dear to their hearts apart within the blink of an eye. Callous as it seems, it reminds people how minuscule acts of gratitude allow them to appreciate the present before they lament or carry their regrets later on in life. Unfortunately, with the complexity of destiny, nobody could ever foresee when karma would dawn upon their heads. Not even you.

Little would you know that doomsday would be awaiting you so soon.

iii) For what feels like going through hell and back, you finally manage to rid yourself out of the psychotic sorcerer's hands and his devious manipulation. For what it’s worth, there is no guarantee about your life returning to normal. Knowing that it is nearly impossible to escape from Gojo (knowing that his sixth eyes can instantly locate where you are), you eventually make the decision of moving away with a heavy heart, considering that it would be what it’s best to solve your issues with your controlling ex. 

Having settled the documents and errands, all that’s left is for you to leave the place filled with nothing other than sad memories. As if it seems like a fresh start is extending its outstretched hands towards you, freedom is just within hand’s reach.

Not until all hell breaks loose on October 31st — the day of your departure. 

Copper tinges beckon indigo skies at twilight, remnants of the setting sun shining through the windows as you take a last, rueful look at the apartment you’ve resided most of your life before grabbing your belongings and heading towards the train station. With the day being Halloween, it isn’t surprising at all that the streets would be crowded, flooded with jovial citizens who want to enjoy themselves during the spooky season. All you have to do is make your way onto the designated train. 

Yet that never happened, because havoc descends among the living like a catastrophic plague. 

Just as you writhe your way through the streets and making your way towards the train station, screams erupt when a massive quake demolish the surrounding buildings into shambles, tearing the festive merriment in the atmosphere apart as people turn and run in all directions without warning — leaving you extremely perplexed about the current state of Shibuya. Horror is evident in every onlooker’s eyes whilst they dash for shelter; the city is in absolute chaos — danger looming, asphalt pavements ensanguined with blood, distressed cries resonating into the night. 

“Hey!” You call out, grabbing onto a random passerby. “What the hell happened?” 

“Danger ... curses ... sorcerer —“

Your blood run cold upon the mentioning, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out the entire situation and who has been responsible. In hindsight, you should’ve had followed the rest and ran away from the scene immediately, but you don’t — standing there amongst the quiet streets in utter terror. And before you could even lift your legs and sprint for your life, there he is, stained from head to toe in blood — an inebriated stare full of nothing but infatuation for you. 

“Honey! There you are ...” Skipping over mountains of corpses humming a joyful tune, Gojo happily pulls you into his chest, nestling his face against your squirming shoulders, his grip a vice against your futile efforts of struggling to break free. “I was so worried about you ever since you left! I ... I feel like my world is falling apart, and I just cannot live without you you know!” 

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!” 

The sorcerer chortles at your demand, ignoring your protests as he hugs you closer to his throbbing heart. 

“Darling ... we could’ve been so happy together. Yet you have to do all of this. For what? If you had given me your heart and soul, none of this would’ve happened —“

“Oh, so this is my fucking problem now?” You hiss, shoving the taller male off. “You really are crazy — Gojo Satoru. But I never regret the decision I’ve made, and I will do it again and again if I need to!” 

That is when he activates his domain expansion. 

All of your sudden, your mind is a blank — staring into the sorcerer’s cerulean eyes as it overwhelms you like a raging hurricane, sucking you deeper and deeper until your entirety sinks into his infinite void. For once you finally fear the strongest man on earth — of the dangers he possesses and what would’ve happened had he decided to break your mind the hard way. 

“To be honest, I don’t care ~” Silent tears roll down your cheeks once you recognise the drop in the man’s usual carefree tone, feeling the remnants of sanity being ruthlessly stripped away from you as you fall limp in Gojo’s loving arms. 

“The seas can rage, the heavens will rumble. But no matter what happens, I’m never going to let any of this take you away from me — for you and I are the honoured ones, destined to be together ...” 

With his voice dwindling to a hushed whisper, the sorcerer slips a shimmering ring onto your finger, declaring in utmost adoration his vows of undying love. 

“In time and evermore.”

[thran-duils]

And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.4)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 3,561 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You and Tony had stared at each other – you down at him and him up at you. It had felt good, fucking him. You had surpassed the real intimacy of a relationship – something the two of you had never had – straight to physical. It was how you normally did things, but it had just taken longer this time than a one-night stand.

But this was different. This was your husband.

You had a deeper connection now. You were startled out of your desire for this to be continuous.

And suddenly by your own doing, the two of you were apart, you standing yourself and him sitting, and you brushed at your hair, uncomfortable before turning for your clothes just to try to escape this unfamiliar territory. Normally, you would say something witty, grab your clothes, and leave. But there was no leaving him. You slept in the same bed. Even if that bed itself had not been christened by the two of you yet.

Tony was off the couch and came up to grasp your arms, stopping you and you looked up at him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The words fell around you. And your breath was short, working yourself up again. Tony saw it too and his thumbs caressed your arms, peering in closer. It was not threatening the way he was acting – comforting more than anything.

“I’m here… I’m here to be with you,” he started slowly, stumbling though. He was a man after all in the mafia, raised with the toxic masculinity that came with it. He was trying to navigate his feelings and be soft with you as well. “I want you to feel safe with me. In all aspects.”

It was intimate. And it was reassuring to know that he was making the effort to move even deeper with it. It was exciting. But you still wanted to be guarded.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you answered. Your eyes shot down and then you said, thinking on your feet, “We are both just naked in this room… standing in front of each other. I want my clothes. In case someone walks in.”

Tony’s eyes shot down and he gave a strangled laugh. “Right.” He let you go.

You gave a half smile before you ducked down and grabbed your bra, doing it up. Tony followed suit, beginning to dress himself back up. And then you grabbed your dress. You pulled it over your head and turned around promptly, “Zip me?”

The complete opposite of what you had asked merely ten minutes ago.

Tony cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

He zipped it up and his hands rested around the base of your neck. You were only suspended for a few moments before you turned around to face him again, your faces close. His slacks were back on, belt done, but his dress shirt half buttoned up, that drew your eyes for a split second.

“This is awkward,” he acknowledged sheepishly.

“Yeah,” you agreed and then cleared your own throat. “Um, let’s exit separately. That would seem normal to everyone else. Don’t want to shock them and all.”

He was amused, giving a little laugh, “Right. Don’t forget your thong though.”

“And there you go being the ass that I know,” you retorted, going to grab it and shimmying into it as he gave another laugh.

<><><>

You saw Bucky and Rhodey watching you come back out, curiosity painted on their faces. They had seen how angry Tony had been taking you back into the room and now that you were coming out alone, that was sure to draw their attention. Shit. Tony should have walked out first. You looked away quickly walking past their table and going back to where your friends were sitting before they could stop you.

Moving through the center of the group, you sat back down, adjusting your dress but did not miss the white-hot stares you were receiving from your circle of friends. You met their gazes and leveled them before giving an expectant shrug.

“Where did you go?” one of them asked.

“Nowhere,” you answered simply. You picked up one of your bottles on the table and began pouring shots. “Let’s drink.”

Another friend answered with a giggle, “She went somewhere with her husband.”

You glowered, stalling in pouring the shots, and asked, “So?”

“Did you finally give it up then? Because you’re being defensive. Oh, look, here he comes.”

Following their gaze, you saw Tony walking out now. He was being as normal as you, no sign of a smirk on his face. But then he did give it away. His gaze did flick over to you and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before he looked away again.

“You totally did,” your same friend crowed.

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to kick you out of the VIP section!” you threatened her.

“Touchy, touchy! Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s done. And so is your honeymoon officially!”

“Ass,” you snapped as you passed the shots out.

<><><>

Tony sat down at the booth and straightened out his suit jacket. “Where are the shots?”

“Well, we took them without you because you were gone for so long,” Natasha said with a twinkle in her eye.

“There’s plenty of alcohol in this bar. I should know. Where’s our bar—”

Someone showed up at the table, dress in the staff uniform and asked, “What’ll it be, Mr. Stark?”

“A round for the table. Bourbon.”

Natasha and Bucky protested. “No, vodka, please.”

“Fine, bourbon and vodka. Just bring two bottles, everyone has their glasses already. Blanton’s and Grey Goose.”

The server nodded, “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

As soon as they walked off, Tony looked around the table again. And they all averted their eyes. Sighing annoyed, he asked – even though he had a good idea already what was going on – , “What is it?”

Clint took the dive for everyone else and tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, “You look… not pissed off.”

“And?” he asked with a sharp edge to his voice. “Do I always look pissed off?”

“Yes,” came the chorus around the table and he frowned, displeased.

Unable to help himself, Bucky chortled, “You fucked,” as Rhodey cracked a wide smile at his statement.

“Be respectful,” Tony snapped at them.

Bucky closed his mouth, biting his cheeks as Tony took a long swig of his drink.

“Respectful? You’re the one that’s been complaining she sleeps turned away from you!” Rhodey said, still laughing lightly. “I was frankly getting tired of hearing about it. This is good news for everyone.”

“You’re welcome then,” Tony muttered to everyone’s continued amusement as the server came back with their bottles. He thanked them and took the bottles, beginning to pour everyone their own respective shots.

“To the King and Queen then,” Natasha proposed, holding up her shot glass.

<><><>

A few weeks later, there was commotion at the front door, and you put your book down before sliding out of the recliner you were in. You could hear Tony; he was angry, ranting. You came into the entrance hall cautiously and found him storming up the stairs. He stopped and was shouting still back at Steve, something about making sure that the car was destroyed and far from the city.

He noticed you were standing there suddenly and that is when you got a full view of his face. He was scraped up.

“Christ, what happened?” you asked him worriedly, coming closer to the bottom of the stairs between him and Steve. Steve took the hint and told Tony he would make sure it happened and turned on his heel to leave.

To you, Tony said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He began to turn to go up the stairs further.

You followed quickly, “You don’t look fine. Here, let me help.” He started to protest but you were already there, going past him. You stole another glance and saw there were scraps by his eyebrow and upper cheek, bleeding still. “There’s a kit in the guest bathroom. That’s closest. Come on.”

Tony followed you and you told him to sit on the toilet. He did as you said, looking hesitant. You dipped to grab underneath the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. Working quickly, you got the hydrogen peroxide as well and used the cotton balls to wipe at his face. He hissed and you apologized gently, dabbing with care.

“What happened?” you asked again as you wiped at the cuts.

“It doesn’t—”

“Tony.”

He ground his teeth for a few seconds before saying, “I almost got run over.”

You stilled and pulled away to meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“One of Weston’s guys.” You knew Weston. He ran an outfit outside the city, smaller but it was influential for keeping the borders secure.

“Weston?” you asked in disbelief. As far as you knew, he did not have any issue with Tony.

“I don’t know. We were working at a site and all of a sudden I heard someone coming in quick and Thor shoved me out of the way.” Your heart clenched and he saw. “He’ll be fine. He got nicked and it sent him spiraling. If it had been one of us, we would have had broken bones. He’s shaken up and bloodied, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s good,” you said dropping the cotton balls into the trash and moving towards the bandaids and antibiotic ointment. “But, did Weston send him?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly. “I don’t think so. The guy is someone who had an issue with me personally. Seems his brother got killed or something in a recent raid. Wanda and Rhodey were interrogating the guy after Steve forced me to come back here in case there were other people gunning for me.”

“That was smart of him,” you said tapping the ointment onto the cuts. “I’m glad he brought you back.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony asked with a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, I would like you to always come back alive if you could manage that for me,” you retorted, opening up a bandaid. You bandaged up the worst of it and added for good measure, “And if you could be more cognizant of your surroundings that would be a good place to start to make sure that happens….”

Turning away from him, you heard him give a light chuckle at your quip. You felt the air shift behind you, and you closed the kit, pushing it back further on the counter.

You made to ignore how close he was and walked towards the door, but he was quicker, grabbing your arm and stilling your movement. His other hand grasped the door, and he threw it closed before turning you around and holding you against it. Staring up at him, you stayed still, waiting for him to make his move.

“I’ll take that into consideration, just for you. I’ll keep my head on a swivel. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a good plan.”

Tony’s lips curled into a smile before he leaned in and you followed his movement, coming in to kiss him softly. He hummed in approval, his hands ghosting up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you wrapped your arms tight to paw at his ass through his pants. He liked that by the noise he released, and you sucked in at his bottom lip. Pinning your wrists above your head, his lips dragging roughly over yours. You bit at him now in a mock threat, and he chuckled before capturing you in a passionate kiss. Your pelvis ground towards him and your tongue slipped into his mouth, swirling. The two of you were locked in a passionate dance.

Tony groaned, pulling away as you brushed his length through his slacks with your thigh. He turned you around in a fluid motion, keeping your wrists pinned and pressed himself against your back. Your neck was sucked and peppered with eager kisses, him dry humping you. You dragged your teeth across your bottom lip, a wanton whine escaping.

He let go of your wrists and made quick work of pulling your sun dress up and freeing himself from his pants. Working with him, you spread your legs and arched your back, anticipation crawling over your skin. Pulling your underwear aside, he drove up into you, holding tight at your hips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped as he picked up speed.

Anyone walking by outside the room would be greeted with loud, pleasured moans and the sound of skin slapping skin with how hard Tony was driving into you. You hardly cared; it was your damn house after all.

The two of you found a slow rhythm to relieve the intensity, a needed break. You rolled your hips, riding him with precision. His hands flexed, one coming up to cup your breast, kneading at it through your dress. He leaned forward enough to suck at your earlobe, whispering filth into your ear before he gave a rough nip.

You pushed back roughly and hissed, “I’m so close. Please.”

Tony’s hand fell from your tit and found its way between your panties and wet pussy. His fingers worked at your clit, and you groaned loudly, begging for him to not stop and he promised you he was going to fuck you good. He was working fast again, his breath coming quick and hot.

“I…I…” you stuttered moments before you clenched, your heat enveloping him tighter.

“Oh, god, that’s it, baby,” Tony praised in a low groan, his fingers faltering on your clit. But he thrusted quicker for a few seconds before he was pulsating. His hand fell to your thigh, fingers digging in as he stilled, emptying completely.

His head rested on your shoulder, the two of you breathing heavy. He found his breath again and laid a soft kiss at your neck.

“Well, that helped my stress,” he breathed.

Leaning back, you turned your head to be able to see him well enough to give him a kiss. Against his lips, you smiled, “Glad I could be of some assistance.”

<><><>

Erick was walking beside you, checking his phone. He suddenly stopped, holding out his arm to stop you as well. “We should go to another store.”

You furrowed your brow and said, “What? Why? I’m done. And they said they would be at the café now for lunch.”

“They’re going to be late.”

Shooting a look across the street, you spotted Bucky inside and slid your eyes back to Erick, looking completely unimpressed. “Nice try. Bucky is already inside.”

Erick swore underneath his breath and you frowned, sensing you were being kept out of the loop about something. You had been surprised when Bucky and Natasha had asked to ride along with you and Erick when they learned where you were going to be going shopping but had told them to come along. They had made it clear they were going somewhere else but would meet back for lunch.

You began walking again and Erick said more firmly, “Y/N, we should find another store to go into.”

Pressing the crosswalk button, you crossed your own arms, your bags bumping up against your middle. You always insisted on carrying some of the bags. Erick was your bodyguard, not your servant.

“Y/N.”

“I heard you. And I’m choosing to ignore you.”

Erick sighed loudly as the light came on to cross and you did so, hearing him follow you despite his protesting. Bucky spotted you through the window and his eyes shot back to Erick, giving him a disappointed glare. It only served to encourage you to move a bit quicker. Upon entering the café, you saw Bucky staring directly at you and Natasha looking at you over her shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be shopping,” Bucky said as you approached the table.

“I’m done. I thought we were having lunch,” you told him, sitting down beside him, placing your bags on the ground. “What’s the hold up?” Natasha was tight lipped as was Bucky as Erick sat down next to Natasha. You exhaled deeply and said in a quieter voice, even though you were alone in the corner, “You can trust me. You know you can. You’re doing a drop off, aren’t you?” Bucky cocked his head and you picked up his coffee and took a sip. “I know Salazar likes to do business in that building. You must need some new toys.”

Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look and for once, you noticed Erick actually looked amused at the fact you had forced yourself into the situation. He knew you were not stupid and he was probably feeling a little sense of pride that they were noticing that as well.

Adjusting in his seat, Bucky admitted in low tones, “Yes. And someone who isn’t gonna be happy about it has people set up inside watching to see who goes in and out.”

“I can do it.”

“It’s dangerous, Y/N,” Erick told you immediately before the other two could respond. His amusement was gone.

Seriously, you asked, “For me? They’re not even to think twice about me walking in. Sure, I’m married to Tony and my dad is a boss. But people really don’t pay attention to me except thinking about getting me on my back.”

Natasha ground her teeth at that, uncomfortable.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said, shrugging. “They’ll think I’m just going in to look at the back jewelry room. All I care about is shopping anyways, right?” Natasha cocked an eyebrow and you said with a smirk, “Yes. I do know about that too, and I’ve been inside. Problem is I’ll have to actually go up to the room and that guy — Tucker — is a sleazebag.”

“You think I’m gonna let you go alone?” Erick asked.

You patted his arm, “Look at you being chivalrous.”

“Tony would have my balls if I let you around Tucker without me.”

“Wait, we did not even agree to this,” Natasha cut in, holding up her hand.

“Give it to me,” you told her, holding out your hand. “I can carry it in my purse. Go upstairs, get something small from Tucker or act like I was not impressed with the selection, and then come back down a back way to drop it into the chute before circling back and coming back out the front entrance.”

You flexed your fingers after they did not react quick enough. “I have concealed carry if anything goes wrong. And you know Erick is a great protector.”

“I have to ask Tony—” Bucky started to say.

“Bullshit,” you told Bucky. “This needs to get done. I’m assuming it’s time sensitive. And you had an unexpected snag and you have the solution sitting right beside you. Not acting on it is going to make you miss your goddamn window. I have gotten my hands dirty before and involved with this type of shit. It’s nothing new.”

Natasha nodded at Bucky stiffly and he sighed, reaching into his jacket, pulling out a thick bag and handing it to you. You felt it was money and put it into your purse swiftly. It was concealed by the fact it was hidden in a grocery store bag, not see through. Picking the menu up, you quickly scanned it.

“Erick and I both like breakfast sandwiches, his with ham and mine with bacon,” you told them putting the menu back down on the table. “I want an orange juice too. You?”

“Water,” Erick answered before following your movement to stand up.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Hopefully before the food gets here. Mind my bags, please,” you told the pair before striding off and not waiting for their answer.

Tucker was a sweet talker as always, commenting on how nice your jumpsuit looked. His hands trailed along your own and you pulled away naturally, not forcing it. When you politely brushed off his advances, he congratulated you on your recent marriage since he had not seen you since it happened. You bantered back and forth with him about how he was always able to find out the latest gossip. He told you that it was big news that Tony had gotten married; if you did not know it, you were not keeping your ear to the ground at all.

To your surprise, he had something in stock you really wanted. And it was for Tony. A nice new ring and you took it happily. Hopefully if Tony caught wind of this – which he certainly would, you doubted Bucky or Natasha would lie to him – this would soften the blow.

On the way down, you did exactly what you said were you going to do and you dropped the bag off in the chute and came back around. Walking right past the people that you knew were watching for whoever it was that Natasha and Bucky were worried about. They only glanced at you and looked away when they saw the small signature bag of Tucker’s business.

Sliding back into your chair, you placed the bag on the table and said, “It’s done. Also, do you think Tony will like that?”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl @namjoonwatcheshentai @kaylamcd2000 @damntonystarkandhissmile @aditimukul

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental @suchababie @downeyreads @teenageregression​

[addercharmer]

Aizawa Shōta blinked slowly at Tsukauchi Naomasa, the detective was standing on his door holding the hand of a small child, looking somewhere between having a full nervous breakdown, crying, and worryingly serious. 

“Tsukauchi, what can I do for you?” Shōta asked, his voice rough with having been forced out of a nap. 

“Aizawa.” The detective started, paused, took a deep breath and tried again. “Aizawa, could we please come in and speak to you and Yamada?” The hand that was being held by the small child jerked a little to show who ‘we’ were. 

Opening the door further, Shōta turned his back on the detective as a way of granting them entry. He turned on his heel and made his way to the kitchen. He felt like he was going to need several pots of coffee to deal with whatever the slightly older man was going to dump on him. 

The quiet thump of shoes and click of the door shutting were the only indication of the two following his silent invitation. The light steps that he could hear coming closer then further away told him that Tsukauchi was headed to the living room of his home was enough of a warning to have Shōta calling his husband instead of texting like he had been planning. 

It took all of six rings for the other man to answer. "Shō! What's up?" Yamada Hizashi sounded a little breathless as he answered. 

"Tsukauchi is here, with a kid." Shōta grunted into the mic of his cell. "Come home." He ordered the blonde, and hung up before even giving the blond a chance to say anything. 

Shuffling his way into the living room without his coffee, and eyeing Tsukauchi with wry dark eyes, Shōta stiffly sat in his favorite spot on the loveseat that was kiddy-corner to the couch that was being occupied. 

"Yamada is out. I called him to come home, if this can't wait for him then we can get it over with." Shōta told Tsukauchi after he had made himself comfortable. 

He watched closely as Tsukauchi eyes the kid sitting next to him, still gripping his hand tightly. The detective looked closer to having that breakdown the longer he looked at the kid, it was honestly starting to worry the underground hero a little. 

The silence felt like it dragged on far longer than the forty-seven seconds Shōta counted. 

"Probably best to wait, you both will need some support." The last part was muttered under Tsukauchi's breath, and Shōta figured that he wasn't supposed to hear it. 

The next twenty minutes were spent with idle chatter, both adults in the room getting tencer as each minute passed. At twenty-two minutes the front door opened and shut, the sound of heavy boots clunking on the floor as they were taken off and dropped pushed the expression on Tsukauchi's face closer to resigned and sad. 

"Ah, hello Tsukauchi. You needed me home?" Hizashi's voice called from just outside of Shōta's peripherals. 

"Yamada, Aizawa." Tsukauchi's tone was a forced flat, Shōta recognized it as the one that was used for grieving families. 

"I offer my condolences Aizawa. Your sister Midoriya Inko was found dead yesterday morning, the investigation is still open and I cannot share much more." Shōta froze, he hadn't spoken to his sister since his wedding, not that they had much contact before that even. It had caused all kinds of issues when Inko had shown up and recognized Hizashi as someone she had had a one night stand with when they had met at a college party when Shōta and Hizashi had been sixteen. 

"That being said, Midoriya Inko's will stated that her daughter Izumi would go to you and or her biological father first, in the event that she was not welcome there she was to be put in foster care." Many things in Tsukauchi's tone were sending off very loud warning signals that Shōta wasn't sure he even wanted to hear much else. 

Hizashi had grabbed his hand from where he had seated himself next to Shōta when the news of his sister's passing was delivered, he squeezed tighter when the kid was brought up. 

"Yamada, your daughter was dropped off in front of the police station six days ago where officer Sansa and myself have been taking care of her, until her paternity test came back." At this Shōta felt Hizashi stiffen next to him. 

"I would like to introduce you to Midoriya Izumi. She is your niece Aizawa, and your daughter Yamada." The strain in Tsukauchi's voice was very clear, and Shōta idly wondered how his sister had hidden a full on child from him for four years. 

"What?" The question was quiet, but full of hysteria. "No...I...what?" Hizashi tried again before Shōta felt his body just collapse in on itself. 

The words Tsukauchi had said were making their way through Shōta's brain but they weren't fully being processed. 

The sniffle caught his attention finally, it was the first sound he had heard from the kid. Giving his head a firm shake Shōta finally took a look at the kid. 

The kid's hair was a wild mess of waves and curls, it was black but it looked to have lime green highlights naturally sprinkled through it, her eyes were the same toxic green as Hizashis' they even had darker green that spiraled out from the pupil. 

The freckles that were dusted across pale skin reminded him of his own mother, she had been of mixed nationality, holding citizenship in both Japan and Canada. His own freckles would show up when he had been in the sun, which made him avoid the giant ball of burning gas even more no matter how much he missed and tried to remember his mother. 

The kid's ears were starting to turn red much like his own do when he is overly emotional. That observation finally kicked his numb body into moving. 

Still holding his husband's hand in a death grip he dropped off the loveseat and onto his knees in front of the kid who was holding onto Tsukauchi so tightly that her knuckles were white. 

"Hey kid, did Inko ever talk to you about me?" Shōta asked, trying to distract the kid from the coming tears.

The kid 'Izumi' he forced himself to recall shook her head and nibbled on her lip like she wanted to say something. 

"Do you know who I am?" He tried, it was highly unlikely that the kid knew him, but the nod shocked him into staring at toxic green eyes longer. 

"How?" Was out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

"Pictures. Inko had pictures with names and days on the back." Okay there were a lot of things in that sentence and tone that needed to be analyzed later, but Shōta pushed it aside to get some other questions answered. 

Nodding, Shōta asked his next pressing question. "Do you know who he is?" He jerked his head towards the silent blond that was in a still unresponsive heap next to him. 

Izumi nodded again, her ears taking on a deeper red color. "Pictures?" Shōta asked, getting another nod in return. 

Squeezing his eyes closed tightly and shaking the hand that Hizashi was still holding roughly, Shōta was in no way prepared for the next words that were spoken. 

"It's okay if you don't want me, Inko and Hisashi didn't want me, that's why they left me at the police." It was so quiet that Shōta wanted to convince himself that he had imagined it. 

Shōta stilled, he wasn't sure what to say, and he was pretty close to either a panic attack or disassociating much like he husband was doing. 

Tsukauchi cleared his throat, it jerked Shōta out of his thoughts long enough for the detective to say. 

"We came for introductions and to share the information, Izumi will be staying with either myself or Sansa until you two have made your decision. I know it's not protocol...just give me a call later." 

That said Tsukauchi scooped the kid 'Izumi' into his arms and quickly left the two pro-heros alone. 

The click of the door shutting sounded like an explosion to Shōta, it jolted him again just enough to turn to Hizashi and work on bringing the man back to the real world. 

Yanking hard on the hand still gripping his own he unbalanced Hizashi enough to get a stutter in his breathing. 

"Zashi. He's gone, you gotta come back." Shōta demanded quietly. 

Wrapping his free arm around Hizashis' chest Shōta started to tap out the rhythm of an English song that Hizashi had used to randomly belt out in highschool. Giving himself and Hizashi something to focus on would be the only way to keep them grounded, usually it was Hizashi bringing him back but it worked both ways. 

Shōta was just starting the song over for the third time when Hizashi shifted against him and groaned. 

"I'm so sorry Shō. I didn't know. I swear." We're the first words that spilled from Hizashi's mouth. 

"Oh shut up you overgrown cockatoo." Shōta gently in his own way told his husband. 

"You have a daughter that was hidden from you, I have a niece that was hidden from me. My sister is dead, Tsukauchi said nothing of Inko's husband." Saying it wasn't helping it sink in, but he needed to say it. 

"She, Izumi, knows who we are in relation to her. She should be around four?" That question seems to jolt Hizashi a little, and a look between concentration and befuddlement is plastered across his face. 

"Un, three going on four at the youngest." Is the very quiet reply to the question about Izumi's age. 

Shōta pulled in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out in a rush. 

"Tsukauchi and Sansa are taking care of her, and Tsukauchi asked us to call him later." Shōta told Hizashi the last piece of information.

Feeling the nod against his chest, Shōta just kept tapping the song out. 

"I'm sorry about your sister Shō." Hizashi whispered into the fabric of Shōta's sweater. "I know you weren't close, but, still." 

Shōta shrugged, "Honestly, part of me forgot I even had a sister." He told Hizashi bluntly. "So her death isn't going to bother me too much." It was harsh, but Shōta was being honest. 

"Okay, next thing." Hizashi pulled himself away a little but still kept close enough in Shōta's personal bubble that they could comfort each other. 

"Izumi?" Hizashi asked, Shōta nodded when he realized that it was a question of her name. "Izumi was dropped off six days ago, she had a paternity test done to find her father. I am her father." Hizashi's breathing picked up again. 

"Okay, just stop, let's look at this differently." Shōta spoke quickly. "My sister is dead, she had a daughter, her custody was given to us in the will. I know we have only been married a year…" Shōta paused to take in a deep breath and release it again. "Do you want to take in the kid?"

Hizashi stayed quiet for what felt like forever. "Can we talk to her first?" Was the tentative question. 

Shōta let out another sigh, this one partly relieved and nodded.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader | purge!au ⚬ word count: 15,728. ⚬ warnings: weapons, death, drugs, blood. ⚬ genres: ANGST, spicy/nsfw scenes, fluff to mend the heart, romance, action, and whatever else you could fathom lol.

✧✎ synopsis: the annual purge was a system of purification, alleviation, a supposedly psychological device in which people found a moment to unleash their indignation. you never purged until you met mingyu, a boy whose warmth was just as palpable as his darkness. you begin to fall for him, which means involvement with the evil he’s managed to attract.

✧✎ a/n: longer note at the end of the fic! sorry i’ve kept this in the vault for AGES bc i couldn’t figure out how to write in the ‘twist’ or whatever the fuck. you’ll know when you get there. anyways this is for @mihgyu (sorry it freakin took so long!) and @solgyus​ as they are my Resident Mingyu Stans. i also changed the title bc i thought... yknow... it fits better!

You had always wondered what life was like for the previous generation, the generation who grew up without acquaintance to the annual purge. It was an alien concept if any concept at all, one so foreign and inexplicably bizarre that the cogs in your mind would start jamming against each other in a struggle of comprehension. The education system had groomed its pupils into believing it was the only plausible way to recover from an economic collapse, feeding into gullible and malleable minds the possibility of clearing rage through bloodshed.

When your parents disappeared at dawn, leaving nothing behind but the sound of a lock clicking shut and a note advising you to stay away from the windows and doors, it could be assumed they’d return at morning with crimson-stained clothing, crusted lacerations, and heavy weaponry sealed taunt to their hands; or maybe they wouldn’t return at all. Yet you were taught to believe that was okay. At least if you didn’t have your family, you had your friends. 

At least if you didn’t have your family, you had Mingyu. 

As much as you despised admitting to yourself, Mingyu meant to you what the moon meant to the tides, what the sun meant to the meadows. He kept you in perpetual motion, allowed you room to recuperate and blossom into a much stronger version of yourself after your father never came home. When he lost his job your family lost its momentum. The last you ever saw of the man was his backside as he slipped through the door frame, a chortling in the evening air, a black revolver clasped to his hand.

He seemed to disappear alongside your mother’s sanity. She isolated herself and pushed everyone away, even you, the only person capable of nurturing her. In school you’d learned that the purge was supposed to bring purification, it was responsible for cleansing humans of the everyday stresses that slowly crushed them flat. Purging allowed them happiness; a twelve hour capsule to unleash what the law prohibited three-hundred-sixty-four days a year.

Yet when you looked to your mother, you didn’t see any traces of happiness or fulfillment, just an empty shell that sat with sunken eyes in her rocking chair, mumbling to herself like a toddler. Before you even had time to find closure after your father’s disappearance, your mother suffered a similar fate, abducted through the windowsill by a maniac who sought vengeance for the crimes committed beneath your father’s hand. He was a stingy businessman who often scammed to make his money, therefore collecting a myriad of enemies.

Notably, you didn’t start purging until you met Mingyu. The first time you’d ever used a gun with malicious intent was when you ran into the man responsible for abducting your mother. The kick-back from the trigger had you stumbling across the watered asphalt, the silver slick rain that caved down from the clouds washing away the minuscule spatters of his blood that blew onto your face. As he slumped down against the red bricks, the animation draining slowly from his eyes, he spluttered,

“S-She’s dead, she payed for your father’s incompetence, his greed.”

In complete lifelessness you lowered the weapon, not realizing how close the  distant gunfire sounded until Mingyu had to drag you away by the wrist. He murmured his condolences to you when the air was tinged with less bloodshed, carefully nuzzling you into his chest when the reality of what you’d just done had come spiraling forth, leaving a slap so brutal across your face the burn seemed more realistic than the raindrops hitting your skin.

You felt disgusting, enclosed in a body that had been consumed by the purest form of hatred, and there was nothing you could do to evade the feeling of that ugly gun pressed into your hand. But within that same moment, hot tears pumping onto Mingyu’s shirt, you understood a certain satiation that tempted so many people to do what you had just done.

“We can’t stay here,” You felt the vibrations from his deep voice against your cheek, coolness stinging the heated flesh of your face when you lifted your head to meet his gentle eyes.

“Gotta keep moving, alright? It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Mingyu’s composure was definitely an admirable trait. But then again, he’d been exposed to this environment long before you ever questioned purging. At that point you had felt completely numb, allowing him to wind you through the crevices and shadowy tunnels building the foundation of the city, your vision blurred by a mixture of salt and rain water. You felt safe with Mingyu, though it hadn’t always been like that. Before your friendship you were an outsider to the boy, harbouring nothing but a tiny crush toward him and his handsome face.

In fact the first time you’d ever spoken to Mingyu, it was after his fight with Wen Junhui, one of the most infamous, cynical purgers you prayed to never meet.

Two Years Ago –

“I’ll kill you if you come near her again!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?!”

You’d never seen a fist fight in real life before, and you were positive that was a good thing. A large crowd steadfastly increased around two tall, venom-eyed boys caught up in their alcohol. They were spitting profanities, threats, and whatever else their clouded minds could formulate within the gap of the other’s speech. The party had been rather lackluster before that point anyways, so like the congregation swarming to the centre of the room, you etched into the crowd and managed to stand just inside the inner circle.

“Shit – sorry,” you squeaked as you were suddenly shoved into the girl beside you. Your face became hollow like a crater on the moon when you saw that it was Mingyu’s girlfriend.

“What am I supposed to do?” She mumbled whilst biting her nails, “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Stop the fight?”

She continued babbling, “Junhui kept coming on to me and Mingyu saw. They’re both competitive, boggle-brained idiots when they’re drunk. I don’t know what to do.”

Her name was Yang Yeeun, born and raised by parents maintaining such wealth that rumours began circulating their bloodstream was crushed rubies. You could see her pearl earrings flashing behind the straight black locks framing her small face. You don’t think she ever took them off. Her father manufactured security systems for the purge; however, the most recent release had been proven to bore many defects and flaws. She didn’t care, as long as she got a slice of the wealth.

In the beginning, Yeeun and Mingyu’s relationship came as a slap to the wrist. How could two people reaping such difference in personality become so close? Yeeun was frank and staid, with cold, cindered eyes that never displayed an eclipse of emotion. Her complexion was just as pale as the pearls she wore and her heart swam darkly.

Mingyu was her polar opposite. 

Sure he was intimidatingly tall, but any menace he constructed with his height was easily derailed through his bubbly nature. He was what you call, “a gentle giant,” and anyone who contacted him for more than a brief period understood this. The warmth was in his honey-brown gaze, the velvet of his tanned skin, the sepia tones that were shaggy in his hair. When he spoke you could feel the gravel roll beneath your feet, and when he said your name heat would flood your face like steam throughout a hot spring. 

Again, Mingyu and Yeeun made a bizarre couple, yet he loved her so deeply you swore the dark coverings in her heart had peeled back a little.

You kept in mind, a little.

“They’re fighting over you?” You questioned carefully, trying not to exaggerate your words so that it seemed utterly impossible for her to be worth fighting over.

“Yes,” Yeeun gritted, her eyes darting around the crowd, strangers pressing into the circle, allured by drunken shouting, “can’t they wait until purge before they start ripping into each other?”

Wouldn’t it be best if they didn’t rip into each other at all?

“Like you said, they’re drunk and stupid,” you opted for the latter choosing.

Mingyu’s mellow stare had been licked over by enraged flames, the remaining liquor still pumping through his system and warming his blood until it sizzled. His fists were balled tightly, fangs peeking past the taunt snarl on his lips. Junhui appeared calmer, though the bar of composure was quite low to begin with. The unkempt ends of his midnight black hair were shaking, his sharp nose crinkled, and his stare so impossibly intense that you were nauseated a vein on his neck might become engorged and pop. 

As interesting as it would be for you to witness your first fist fight, you knew it wasn’t a wise idea for these two to start swinging at each other.

You set a hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, “maybe you should stop thi—,”

Suddenly, her palms encased her mouth as the last few words of toxicity were spat between Mingyu and Junhui, the crowd erupting in brazen cheering as the two lunged for one another in a flash of blurred colour. Your jaw was permanently unhinged, your body set in stone, attention completely spellbound under the boys who were viciously entangled. The world seemed to spin at a snail’s pace whilst the fight flickered faster than lightning. At one point Mingyu had Junhui shoved up against the wall, one hand nearly ripping through the boy’s black-collared shirt as he tore his free fist back and swiftly launched it forward. The hard ridges of Mingyu’s knuckles connected with Junhui’s eye, his head smashed back into the drywall so that an indentation remained.

“G-Get the fuck off me, Mingyu!”

“You fucking asked for this, dumbass!”

In another fuzzy whirlwind of movement, Junhui managed to push Mingyu backward and onto the snack table, bowls and bottled alcohol spilling across the floor with jade shards of glass scattering in flurries. Junhui drew his fist into Mingyu’s face, the collision splintering against Mingyu’s brow bone. You could see the speckles of blood flying off Junhui’s hand as he curled his fingers into another ball, preparing to throw once more. Panic encompassed you from every angle; it drowned you above your head until the crowd’s bellowing became a muffled choir to your ears. 

You could hardly breathe as your sights shifted to Yeeun, the girl with her hands still clasped to her mouth, doing absolutely nothing.

Was that a smirk hidden behind her hands?

She really did have a dark heart. By the looks of it no one was going to intervene. You were most likely the soberest person in attendance. Even if it downright petrified you, letting those two get their hands so bloodied it would look like they doused their arms in red paint wasn’t a viable option.

“Hey!” You barked, slowly etching your way into the clearing, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?! Get off each other!”

Mingyu and Junhui were still a violent mass now buckled to the floor, anger and alcohol swelling through their bodies like a drug. You felt your knees wobble, as though a tight fist had an ironclad grip on your entrails and was squelching them around slowly. Junhui had Mingyu pressed to the floor, and raised in his arm was a sparkling shard belonging to a smashed bottle. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside compelled you to react. In a mere instant you were ripping the shard from Junhui’s hand and screaming at the top of your lungs, the crowd’s cheering turned to hushed whispers.

“Enough!”

Your chest was heaving, fingers grasping the glass piece tightly enough that thin lines of red began dripping down your hand. Junhui and Mingyu had peeled themselves apart, the deep marring of hatred etched so profoundly into their eyes you’d never be able to forget it. Yeeun suddenly blossomed with emotion after standing on the outskirts smirking into her palm, the girl bounding toward Mingyu and snaking her arms around his neck like she’d been downright sobbing with worry the whole time.

“C’mon, Gyu,” she gritted, “we’re leaving.”

Thanks for the help.

You were tempted to call.

The fight between Mingyu and Junhui might have stopped, but the party continued to thrive. You were wandering through the upstairs hallway as the wooden floorboards jolted beneath you, driven by incessant music that became a furthering echo. Fresh blood had yet to stop streaming down the grooves between your knuckles, pooling from the lacerations of that jagged, glass shard and wetting your warm skin. You continued seeking for a bathroom, any room really that might contain a first aid kit, or at least some water and tissues that would help to clean your hand.

Each room was either occupied or locked. A defeated sigh ghosted from your lips as you stood at the end of the hall, weakly knocking your healthy hand against the last door. Scarlet drops were creating a puddle on the wood whilst you waited, until the brass handle jiggled and you were stepping back in shock that someone had actually acknowledged your presence.

Of course, the person doing the acknowledging had to be Yeeun.

“Oh! It’s… you.” She murmured. Behind her slim frame you could see Mingyu sitting on the sink, holding a cloth to his eyebrow.

“It’s me,” you replied, desperately wanting to skip the small talk and use the first aid kit. Didn’t she say she was leaving?

Yeeun finally noticed the red pathways on your hand and nodded, “I see you need to get yourself bandaged up.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You hummed, trying not to sound impatient but utterly failing.

“Well… I’ll be right back then. Just so you know there’s no gauze left.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I’ll need an—,”

“I’m going to look for some!” Yeeun called as she squeezed her way past you and began trudging down the corridor, “be back soon!”

Mingyu tossed you a lopsided smile when you entered the bathroom. You kicked the door shut with your foot to drown as much noise as possible. Though the small barrier didn’t do too much in regards to sound, it certainly made the bathroom feel one-hundred times smaller. Or maybe it was solely Mingyu and his gargantuan height. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those factors and you were just feeling nervous to be enclosed in a private space with him. Either way, your face turned into magma and you felt like swallowing sand. Without saying a word you turned on the sink and let the cold water stream between your fingers.

“Hey.” He began.

Oh no. If you initiate conversation with me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’m going to fall in love with you.

“Thanks for intervening. You kinda saved my life there.”

You scoffed whilst scrubbing the dry scarlet from your wrist, “I think you could have taken him.”

Mingyu took the wet cloth from his brow and folded it over before reapplying pressure to his own wound, sighing deeply. “Fuck this. I hate getting drunk.”

Fastening your teeth into your lower lip, you remained silent and continued swirling around the bloodied skin until the red currents seemed to all drain away, down the white porcelain. You winced a little because there was indeed a stinging sensation, but it was better than allowing the cuts to get infected. Mingyu’s curious gaze was watching the scene intently, and with his body propped right next to the sink, there was really no easy way to avoid your feelings other than to talk with him.

“How’s your injury?”

“I don’t know, how is it?” He peeled the damp cloth from his brow bone. You could see that directly in the centre the skin had spilt, a little ways above the brow and a little beneath it, bright pink flesh gleaming from between the dark hairs and tanned skin. It would definitely leave a scar.

“I’m no doctor, but you might need stitches.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu grimaced. “That fucking sucks.”

You scoffed. “That’s funny. The same kid who socked Junhui in his eye is afraid of getting a few itty bitty baby stitches.”

Mingyu pouted, his thick brows then slanting downward which made him wince petulantly. You couldn’t suppress your chuckling, turning off the sink with a coy smile playing along your mouth.

“I’m joking.”

“I know.” Mingyu said. “I’m sure everyone’s gonna start saying he’ll rake my eyes out at purge.”

You laughed at that too, though deep down you both knew it wasn’t anything flowery to laugh about. Junhui was the definition of nefarious. Similar to Yeeun his family danced in riches, their security systems were top-notch, and his access to weaponry and blueprints of the city could be in his hands within minutes. People worshiped the ground he walked on, but it wasn’t because they liked him. It was only sensible to play nice to the person capable of taking your life away in a single breath. 

Of course, Junhui’s reputation made him a prime target, yet despite all the people who secretly wanted him dead, it was difficult to even lay a scathe on his amber skin.

In your eyes it was better to avoid the boy altogether. That way you never gave him any reason to seek out your oblivious-self during the annual purge. Mingyu had crossed that line to the fullest extent. He laid more than an innocent scathe on Junhui; the boy had given him an entire fist to his pretty, supposedly untouchable face. Feeling your heartbeat thump widely, you quickly willed to change the subject.

“Do you see any cloths? Or Kleenex? Anything?”

Mingyu frowned. “Sorry, nothing.”

You shook your arm out over the sink to shed some water droplets, yet the blood still continued to bead. Mingyu looked sympathetic. He presumed it was his fault you were even injured in the first place.

“Yeeun’s getting gauze.”

“I think I’ll be okay—,”

“Wait!” Mingyu suddenly piped. “This might be super awkward but—,” the boy’s tongue peaked out between his pink lips as he gripped the end of his white t-shirt and gave it a tear, pulling off a strip of fabric.

Your cheeks began crackling and your palms felt oddly clammy, “M-Mingyu, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, “this shirt’s old and busted anyways. It’s better than walking home, dripping blood everywhere.”

You smiled softly and stared at the floor.

“Here! I’ll even wrap it for you.” He purred, gently reaching for your arm and twining the white material like a roll of bandages around your hand. 

Forgetting about his own spilt brow that began clotting with blood, Mingyu finished his dexterous work with a tender glance that made your stomach flip, his chocolate bangs falling endearingly before his eyes. After shaking the fringe away, he gave you a thumbs-up.

“Now you look like you just got into a fight.”

“Right, because I’m the first person everyone suspects to start a fight. You hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Mingyu chuckled at the heavy sarcasm, blinking his pretty lashes at you with such warmth you keened to melt like an ice cream cone. You supposed after that moment, Mingyu might not be nearly as brutal as his drunken, love-induced mind influenced him to be. For a fleeting moment you even doubted that this was the same boy with his own kill-list. His eyes glimmered like diamonds catching a shaft of light.

“That’s something only time can tell.” He purred

Two Years Ago –

When Mingyu and Yeeun broke up, it was like the universe took its cue to make everything in life feel unreal. If their romance was nothing more than a mirage, then had romance ever existed in the first place? At least to you, it routinely appeared as though Yeeun’s heart had never been within the same realm as Mingyu’s. There was always an island of separation between them, one little ploy that prevented the couple from truly clicking like puzzle pieces. That ploy was exigent in the form of onyx hair, a sultry voice, and bottomless eyes.

In other words the obstacle was Junhui. Yeeun started dating him no less than a month after the break-up.

Mingyu, he was crushed; taking the point of devastation and expanding it an extra nine yards. In contrast with Yeeun’s heart, his was always wide open, warmer than a summer fire and more embracing than sun rays. You swore she would be the girl he took to meet his mother, the girl whose finger he delicately touched to slide upon a silver loop. A part of you crumbled each time you saw them together, before the break-up, and even more so after the party.

Remembering how his rough fingertips skimmed the wet (and surely burning) skin of your hand as he wrapped the cloth around it did something peculiar to your mind. Reminiscing on the soft timbre of his chuckles made your head spin, and replaying the manner in which his eyes twinkled as he gazed at you through his thick bangs brought forth fluttering in your stomach. It was what you were daydreaming about even after their infamous break-up, fingers clacking against the keys on your laptop whilst you finished an essay in the library. To your dismay, the thoughts were scattered by conversation at the table behind you.

“Think Junhui is gonna gut Mingyu at purge?”

“Probably not, Mingyu would be expecting it. And it’s not like he’s hopeless. Did you hear about how he stabbed someone to death in the tunnel last year?”

“Yeah. But Junhui’s clique practically owns the purge. They’ll tear your fuckin’ house down if they can find it.”

“…True. Those two seriously have some bad fucking blood. Do you remember the rumours about how Junhui sho— ”

Unable to listen any longer without this horrendous churning against the walls of your stomach, you shoved your laptop into its carrying case, swung it over your shoulder and began shuffling between the book shelves. Your stare traced the floor whilst a pummeling sensation thundered into your ribcage. Mingyu didn’t seem like the type to kill, though you didn’t know him personally, and perhaps he had matters of vengeance that crooned for redemption. This tiny hope inside you flickered, prayed that Mingyu was unlike Junhui, the kind that tortured for torture’s sake, the kind that shoved a pistol beneath your jaw because you looked at them funny.

Suddenly, you collided with someone. Blinking upward, you gazed at the body you’d walked into, Mingyu, who was in the midst of pulling out a book.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, but he looked healthy, a bit tired perhaps, but mostly healthy. Dressed in comfy clothing, a grey hood drawn with his earbuds plugged in, he popped one of the speakers out and lent a small smile. His eyes were slightly veiled by his earthy bangs, the coarse fronds wavy in front of his forehead. His scent was a concoction of something tropic mixed with cannabis, and when he spoke his voice was lower than usual.

“Were you leaving?” Mingyu asked.

Yes.

“No, no. I wanted to finish my essay somewhere that wasn’t... back there.”

“Oh,” he sighed, “seemed like you were in a rush.”

“I was just thinking.”

Mingyu stuck the book back into its gap and smiled, “about?”

You sniffled. “What?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Obviously you were not going to admit that you just overheard conversation about Mingyu being gutted under Junhui’s hand, about Mingyu supposedly cramming a knife through whoever’s chest during last year’s purge, about Mingyu’s history of participation in the annual mayhem that plagued the country like a sickness each year. Now that the purge was on your mind, a dark worry skulked in the shadowy crevices of your brain, yet it seemed to dissipate just as quickly as it arrived when Mingyu stared at you so gently.

“How much I hate essays.”

He nodded. “That must be it.”

Without thinking, you blurted, “what happened with your eyebrow? Did you get a scar?”

He simply carded back the bangs covering his forehead and poked at the nick with his finger. It would have been courteous to receive a warning that he was going to reveal his forehead. He had no clue how powerful a mechanism it truly was, how badly you wanted to kiss that tiny scar after seeing the slit through his brow. Swallowing the flushed heat that arose in your throat, you grinned with a closed lip.

“Well, it makes you look like a badass if that’s any comfort.”

Mingyu let his hair flop back into place and laughed quietly. “What’s up with your hand? That cut looked so nasty.”

Looking down at your fingers, you probed the faint lines of where the glass had sliced your skin, engraved almost, like a stone carving.

“Kinda. It doesn’t look as cool as your eyebrow slit though. And you’re way less busted than Jun. His eye is still purple.”

For a brief ellipse you simply embraced the opportunity of being alone with Mingyu. That some higher deity had taken pity on your life barren with romance and granted you this precious exchange to add to your vault of daydreams. The more his hoarse voice lapped at your ears, surely roughened yet equally soothing, you felt your chest create a burrow for him, a gap that only he could fill. It baffled you, that Yeeun could break his heart. But it didn’t surprise you. She was built from titanium, similar to Junhui, and together they were hawks that would make prey of everyone.

“Trust me,” Mingyu said, “it wouldn’t make me feel any better if we were matching.” 

His jaw clenched, and his stare slipped to the floor for a transient moment. A nearly imperceptible breeze tickled up the back of your neck, causing you to rub at the fine hairs as Mingyu’s usual aura slowly dissipated into a much darker nuance. You gulped, attempting to laugh something of comfort back into the air.

“There’s a lot we could match in, like... bracelets! Or a necklace! Or one of those couple t-shirts... Not that we’re a couple,” stuttering helplessly, you felt electricity tingle in your cheeks, “I was just thinking about matching stuff and that popped into my hea—”

“It’s fine.” Mingyu responded, the storm clouds cast in his gaze finally ebbing away. He smiled, and a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re pretty cute y’know? I don’t think I’d mind.”

1 year ago –

You never spoke commonly to Mingyu about the idea of purging until you were thrust into the political nightmare on a whim, a stupid, stupid, moonstruck whim.  The few times the morbid topic arose seriously, neither of you had enlightening stories to exchange. A bitter knot lodged itself into your throat the night you reiterated to Mingyu about the tragedies concerning your parents; the disappearance of your father and the abduction of your mother, a tearful lining glossy in your eyes.

You’d never seen Mingyu express such grief when he returned the storytelling.

He moved out from his parent’s house when he was eighteen years old, his best friend, Minghao, making the journey alongside him. Faintly, you remembered Minghao, more or so from your high school days when you shared the same last period art class. He had always been rather subdue, never really speaking with anyone apart from Mingyu, though there had was a handful of times where you caught him and another boy, Wonwoo, skipping class together. Apparently Wonwoo didn’t have a very good home life. He’d supposedly been forced into purging since middle school, and his psyche never quite recovered. 

You never even saw Wonwoo smile apart from when he was with Minghao. 

However, one day that boy from your art class just disappeared, and the rumours hadn’t stopped swirling since. It was a common fact that Minghao never purged. He didn’t have any bad blood with anyone either.

Not that you were aware of.

In the beginning stages of Mingyu’s purging he used to commonly venture with a group of three friends. Wonwoo happened to be one of them, plus another named Jihoon (who you could recall dawdling around in the background of the party) though Mingyu never named the third. He described it as being pure, inexplicable dread. They were constantly finding themselves in gruesome situations that forced their true colours from camouflage, how they stole burning glimpses of the other when the night came to an end and blood was caked to their clothing. The purge had tainted all of them, some more than others, whether it be with drug addiction, eternal madness, or an unhealthy fascination to mend so seamlessly with the evil that they personified it.

However, genuine fear pitted in the core of your stomach when Mingyus’ fists had clenched in his lap, his features distracted by a look of anguish as he sucked in a breath and spoke in an unsettling, distant tone.

“It was four of us in my car. I was driving, Wonwoo and Jihoon were in the backseat, and he... he took up the passenger seat. It was different... How he reacted to the purge... The rest of us were still somewhat fearful of it but he almost thrived in all the destruction. We were even talking about going purging without him the next year, but...

Mingyu had to clear his throat.

“I guess Minghao was waiting for me to come back to the house. He probably wasn’t even waiting on me specifically, he had this little crush on one of my friends, Wonwoo. They were always messing around together. Minghao probably got excited when he heard us, so he came outside, onto the grass... But then I heard the pop of the gun out the open window... I just... I don’t fucking know if he thought Minghao was a maniac or... If he was on drugs or something... But, God... He just —“

You didn’t allow him to say anymore when his words became warped, when his voice cracked and his eyes split like a sheet of broken glass. Minghao didn’t just disappear - he was killed, and Mingyu knew who was responsible. Instead of pressing him for details, you reached for his hand, rubbed your thumb along his knuckles, made sure he knew that you were there for him. 

And yet you had been thrust into the setting of the same picture during your first purge, the first time you had ever experienced what it was like to harm someone, turning their existence into an irreparable patch in the universe.

This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve hours.

All emergency services will be suspended.

Your government thanks you for your participation.

“This is going to be your entire fault if I die tonight, Mingyu! I just want you to know that!”

“Relax. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

It was nothing short of chaotic. Pitch blackness shrouded the skylight like a heavy cloth, the distant rattle of gunfire and screams sitting heavy in the air as you raced down the street. The horrendous acts were most commonly centred to the city’s heart, where prime businesses, rich corporations, and notorious killers congregated to create havoc. Still, that didn’t make you any less petrified, your nails sinking into Mingyu’s hand like dog’s teeth. Fights were slowly beginning to litter the sidewalk, a store going up in orange flame and hissing embers now glinting behind you.

“I knew that we weren’t going to make it back to your place on time. I knew it was stupid that we even questioned going out on purge in the first place - Ah!”

You shrieked at an unprecedented decibel as two men came tumbling out of the alleyway only meters away from your feet, your body slamming into Mingyu’s backside when he cemented himself to a halt. The men payed no notice to you, entirely engulfed in their own world of vengeance through bloodied fists and messy punches.

“This way.” Mingyu’s words were like a breeze in the midst of a hurricane.

You hardly registered he’d even said anything until his grip lurched you forward and you were stumbling to the opposite side of the street. Then, your jogging pace skyrocketed into running, the breaths just squeezing from between your lips and the pain in your chest aching so potently you felt like vomiting. Your stamina was breaking faster than glass. You couldn’t afford to run any longer.

“M-Mingyu, can we please stop?”

The boy didn’t seem to have a choice as your fingers began unclasping from his hand, your body collapsing on the concrete staircase belonging to the city bell tower. Mingyu anxiously carded his hair back, his eyes moving hyperactively down the street only to be greeted with more and more violence consuming his vision. Gunshots seemed to thunder from every direction, splintered shouts joining hymn. Large trucks blared down the black pavement with ominous members hunched in the open cap, holding weaponry and wearing masks of painted wood.

The boy squatted down, his palm firmly encasing your cheek and keeping your head up.

“I’ll give you a minute. But then we have to keep going. It’s too dangerous to stay in one spot.”

You stared into Mingyu’s face with a tiresome expression, the bronzed and gleaming hue of his skin reflecting the fire that crackled in the distance. His touch became sterner as he moved in closer, his eyes no less than a few inches from your own.

“Trust me, I know you’re exhausted. We’re gonna be at my place soon though, okay? You just gotta hold tight for a little longer.” He pressed his forehead against yours, and met your gaze head on. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

An intruding shout echoed a little too closely down the street, engendering you to choke on your own heartbeat. Mingyu growled in irritancy, pivoting his head and glaring at the stranger who stepped from an alleyway. Rather than looking frightened (you were on the verge of sobbing bullets), Mingyu’s forehead crinkled angrily, the tiny scar that cut through his brow beginning to slant.

“Stay put.” Mingyu commanded you.

There was a colder lining to his tone that you’d never heard before, malevolent and icy. As soon as his touch fell from your cheek, you knew his hands were about to tend to a much different matter. Your mind implored for you to look away, yet your heart waned for the exact opposite. The man was scraggly and a bit stockier than Mingyu, a mischievous intent welling in his movement as he seemed to dance back and forth like a hummingbird. He wore a smooth, white mask and a heavy brown coat that bore many unidentified stains, a long, curved blade in his hand.

“You’re just a kid,” the man taunted, “it’s always the younger crowd that get so riled about the concept of murder, think they’re all that, but they drop faster than flies when it comes down to it.”

Mingyu didn’t waver. “You should keep talking if you want that knife poking through the opposite side of your throat.”

You inhaled stiltedly. This was definitely not the same Mingyu who smiled with the power of a burning star, his mannerisms filling your chest with laughter and his golden eyes bathing your face with heat. You thought back to the library, the conversation that drawled behind you. This was the Mingyu they were talking about. You had a feeling that the innocent projections in your head were close to changing.

The man chuckled and pointed his knife, shaking it at Mingyu, “you’ve got the same cockiness as that rich China boy’s little clique. I’m sure you’ve heard about them. They’ll be flocking to the streets any minute now.”

Mingyu spoke gutturally in response, the disgust and repulsion so thick in his voice you almost couldn’t recognize it. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him.”

The man chuckled darkly, “hit a nerve, did I?”

You weren’t sure what happened next, mainly because it all happened so fast, a series of swift movements (on Mingyu’s behalf) that resulted in your pulse fizzling like hot oil. Ultimately you were going to be exposed to murder one way or another, though watching it reflect in the glassy curve of your own eyes left behind a deep scarring. The man lurched at Mingyu with his hefty blade slashing for the chest, most likely assuming that because of Mingyu’s height he would be quite slow and lack agility.

However, that was severely not the case, to the man’s dismay more than anyone else’s. Within the span of sixty measly seconds Mingyu had tripped him onto his back, snatched the blade from his grip and wedged the knife directly into the man’s windpipe, exactly as he said he would do.

At that point you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Mingyu’s breathing was level as he rose from the man’s waist, a burgundy pool of blood bubbling at the neck where the blade had punctured skin. Mingyu lifted his jacket, pulled the knife out, and attached the weapon through his belt. He spent an extra few moments patting the fresh corpse down until he uncovered a small revolver hidden in the inside pocket on the man’s coat. When Mingyu handed you the revolver in means of protection, you didn’t realize you were shivering.

“Now,” he pronounced, “we’re going home.”

And at the time you believed him. 

Until thirty minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two hours, three hours, four hours. The chaos that was the purge had encompassed you both. This supposedly psychological device controlled you like a ventriloquist. Violence sneered at every turn and eventually an unspoken conclusion emerged; that it was easier to join chaos than it was to run from it. Later that night everything came full circle. 

You were the one pointing the weapon, aiming the silver barrel into the face of the man who had broken in your home and abducted your mother last year, on account of stupid, petty crimes your father had committed in the past. Seconds before touching the trigger, all you could picture was his face swathed in moonlight, the horror that clawed in your stomach when you ran down from your room that night to see him yanking her out the smashed window. 

And when you felt the release of the bullet, it became emboldened that it truly was a small, cruel world.

Present –

Squeezing one eye shut, you held the black gun with both hands and aimed the muzzle toward a tree stump that acted as your target, a cheek pressed into the taunt muscle of your shoulder as you inhaled a steadying breath. Delicate winds blew across the meadow, each strand of grass rippling in a hypnotic wave. The horizon lay beyond the tree trunk, a bleeding yellow sun submerging quietly behind the endless terrain, casting a honeyed glow to speckle like rain droplets upon your face.

There was not a single sound apart from the grassy fronds tickling against each other, your concentration solidifying to a mar in the tree bark. Then, your finger ghosted over the trigger, a sharp burst echoing into the pale yellow sky and causing a distant congregation of birds to take flight. The bullet struck the wood, right where you had envisioned the lead entering.

“Look at you,” the tension keyed into your bones drifted away, exiting your body in a shallow exhale once Mingyu’s prideful tone filled the spaces between the winds, “your shot may be even better than mine now.”

After lowering the firearm to face the earth and switching the safety on, a demure smile danced across your lips. Mingyu’s arms were strong and looping carefully around your waist, hauling you back into the broad expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the smooth plane where your shoulder met your neck, his soft locks feathering along your jaw. You giggled the second his lips kissed your shoulder, evening sunlight spilling across the meadow and encouraging heat to caress your skin.

“The student becomes the teacher,” you purred, “I even remembered to turn the safety on this time.”

“You’re damn right you remembered to turn the safety on,” the boy quipped sternly, his palms gliding downward to grip your hips and spin you around, “you almost took my kneecap off the last time.”

Furrowing your brows, you pursed your lip at him petulantly, “can we stop talking about that? It was a mistake you big idiot.”

“I know, I know,” Mingyu cooed, “a very, very, very dangerous mistake.”

You rolled your eyes as he unwound the black firearm from your fingers. He walked toward his jacket that sat on the blanket you’d strewn across the grass, making sure to place it back inside the pocket.

“You still need some more practice, but I think for today we can call it quits. How does that sound?”

The boy then fell back onto the blanket with his head titled to the side, his eyes staring up at you winsomely. With the sun flaring behind you, the vibrant streaks set the grass aflame, making it appear as though Mingyu was sitting in the centre of a fire. His skin twinkled like golden silk and his canines peaked between his lips in a smirk. Shrugging your shoulders impetuously, you stumbled toward the blanket and fell into the boy’s lap, squirming against his broad body until he became pinned beneath your weight. As though he were a glass vase, you gingerly swept your finger along his scarred brow.

“Sounds fine,” you hummed, “since I kinda wanna makeout with you right now.”

“I love how straightforward you are, baby.” Mingyu confessed with his intoxicated gaze drinking in your image, already imploring for a taste of the strawberry balm that defined the pretty arches of your mouth.

Unable to quell how your body yearned for him, you gave your eyes a toss and pressed your lips to his. Mingyu craned his neck forward in immediate desperation to feel more pressure against his mouth; however, he soon gave up his craning and allowed his elbows to give out beneath him. His hands snuck beneath your shirt, to which he placed soft squeezes against your ribcage, fingertips skimming lower and lower until they were running along the back hem of your shorts. You continued to straddle his waist as the kiss drawled further, rhythmically slow and sweet.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible for your chest to be so encompassed with fondness, yet here you were, brushing your digits through Mingyu’s tresses, pressing your forehead to his, encasing his lower lip between your teeth to experimentally tug until the flesh swelled and glistened in garnet. You weren’t really sure how you started dating, it just sort of happened. It was perhaps an escalation of lingering touches, infatuated glances, and hot, fever dreams that kept you both slamming awake at blue midnight.

After your first purge together, the connection between you strengthened, like welding two pieces of molten iron into one. It was an experience that ruined you, stripped you of any innocent fragments still clinging to your bone, and once the night came to an end and you were sitting on Mingyu’s bed with blood spatters sopped into your cloths, you burst into tears. Strangely, you weren’t sobbing out of pain, mortification, you were sobbing because you could. It was the only accurate way to depict the weird melancholic, hopeless lump in your throat.

You squeaked as Mingyu grew impatient of your slow kisses. His want was increasing and he couldn’t bear to hear the quiet mewls that kept slipping from your mouth. His strength effortlessly allowed him to flip you on your back, his mass keeping you slack against the blanket as his lips dotted your jaw, your ear’s cusp, until he craved to taste more of the natural salt on your skin and his kisses ventured further down your throat.

Mingyu began suckling at a sensitive patch near your pulse. The warmth of his tongue combined with his teeth, and you felt him scrape his canines sharply against your skin. It wasn’t until the boy nudged his thigh between your legs that your fingers lurched into his scalp, tugging the earth fronds tightly. You couldn’t help but buck up against him, summoning a growl from his chest that only made him press his fangs into the soft skin with more force; not enough to actually break the petal-thin flesh, but enough to leave deep, possessive indentations. The ecstasy drumming in your veins was insatiable.

And yet, you knew it couldn’t progress.

With a fragile whine you placed your hands against Mingyu’s chest and gave the giant a small push, his mouth regretfully detaching from the beautiful marks he was intent on leaving all over your body. He spoke coarsely, breathlessly, when his rosy face surfaced from your neck, though the glaze in his eyes had quickly softened out of fear he’d made you uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t being too rough, was I?” He gathered your hand in his and kissed along your knuckles apologetically.

“No, not at all,” You mumbled, still dealing with the blare of crimson running through your veins, “I just… Don’t think we should, do it, in a field.”

The hollow grooves in Mingyu’s features immediately flushed with solace, a large sigh escaping from his chest as he allowed his head to tumble into your shoulder.

“Thank God, I thought I hurt you or something,” he heaved in relief.

Your heart sang wildly, knowing that he truly was a boy gentler than butterfly wings and softer than cotton. It was difficult to imagine him as the same boy who ruthlessly shoved a blade through a man’s windpipe, allowing thick trails of blood to slide from the open wound and create morbid puddles on the hard cement. The evening air seemed to turn cooler, the wind’s peaceful lilting now picking up with more vigor. Mingyu collapsed at your side, one of his long legs still tossed over your waist as you stroked his hair.

With the sun halfway behind the horizon, you gulped whilst watching the yellow sky fade into watered, fierce shades of orange.

“Mingyu?” You hummed.

“Yeah?” His warm breath scattered in a ticklish manner against your neck.

“What’s going to happen with you and Junhui?”

Mingyu stiffened instantly. Nibbling on your lower lip, you watched with sincere eyes as the boy lifted into a sitting position. You joined him, closely monitoring the contours of his face that had surely twisted at the mention of the sinister purger. There was no room to blame Mingyu for harbouring such distaste toward the boy. Junhui did swoop in and steal his ex-girlfriend fresh after the breakup and run purge night like he invented the device himself.

Still, you wondered if there could be something more. If there could be a more profound explanation for why the air was so stale between them.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Mingyu said flatly, “are you scared?”

Caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you stumbled over your syllables for a painful second, his gaze turning back to wrack you curiously.

“N-No, I was- I just- I was only wondering.”

“He’s too obsessed with himself to care about me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing is going to happen, baby.” Mingyu said in a much lighter tone, his signature, canine smile quirking along his lips. 

Despite his calm protrusions, you could sense that something murky was swimming behind the curve in his eyes. The boy leaned backward and planted his lips against your forehead, leaving a small, adoring kiss. Shaking away the ominous tension that came with simply speaking the purger’s name, you grasped for Mingyu’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s head back into town.”

He set his jacket as well as the blanket in the backseat and climbed to sit at the wheel.

“Don’t forget about that, y’know,” you reminded him whilst gesturing to his jacket, “it’s not like there’s a gun in there or something.”

“A gun with the safety on.” He replied sheepishly, to which you simply huffed and stared out the window.

You stopped Mingyu when you were no less than a block away from your new apartment building, the tires crunching to a halt beside the common coffee shop.

“I’ll get out here,” you told him, “I’ll be fine to walk back to the complex. I just really want caffeine.”

Mingyu leaned over and pushed the car door open for you, his palm tenderly grazing your thigh as he found your lips. He gave you a quick goodbye kiss, and you felt flowers bloom between the bones of your ribcage.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” He reminded when you slid from the passenger seat.

Scurrying into the coffee shop, you already had an idea of what drink you’d like to get. As you stood off to the side waiting for an employee to call out your coffee, you fell into a slight trance, your eyes casting mistily across the cozy atmosphere whilst the sky began darkening beyond the clean window panes. You thought about Mingyu, how laughable it was that you were dating, and yet you knew you loved him like ink loves to kiss paper.

Hm, you chuckled inwardly, that girl sitting in that booth by the window, she looks like Yeeun, and that guy beside her really resembles Junhui. That’s funny.

That’s funny.

That’s… funny…

“Order 24, half decaf, two sugars one cream.”

To your inexplicable terror, heart-twisting dread, and every other repulsive emotion that could have cloaked you in that moment of realization, the couple sitting at the window booth was indeed Junhui and Yeeun. The employee called out your order again, this time a little louder, drawing customers to look left and right with puzzled glances. The nefarious couple was sitting across from two familiar faces, one with jet black hair brushed away from his forehead, the other disquieting with how vacant his face appeared, a grey beanie pulling back the fronds from his porcelain features, and a lollipop shoved between his lips.

It took you a minute, but you eventually recognized the lollipop boy as Wonwoo. He looked insanely different compared to your outdated, high school memories, where he was just a scrawny, fox-faced boy with the straightest black bangs you’d ever seen, always running around next to Minghao, getting pink in the face when the younger so much as smiled at him. It was evident that purging had completely hardened his face, his aura, to which he developed an almost sinister light. Whoever he was now, he definitely wasn’t the same boy. Jihoon sat next to him, impatiently spinning a stir stick between his fingers.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving. Mingyu’s words rang in your head.

Are you scared?

Craving nothing more than for a sinkhole to form beneath your feet and swallow you whole, you did the sole thing your body permitted you to do; walk sternly out the coffee shop and pretend you never ordered a single thing.

God - I hope they didn’t see me. That would be the last thing I want, for Junhui and his purging buddies to have anything to do with me.

Jihoon and Wonwoo with Junhui was odd. Had they always been friends? Junhui never attended your high school either, rather he used to be a student at a prestigious private school you couldn’t ever dream of getting into.

Your apartment was close. You could distinguish its height amongst the low-cut buildings lining the sidewalk. If you just walked a little faster, you could be up the cement staircase, swinging open the glass doorway, and be safe within the front lobby. Titling your head back you quickly ogled at the sky. It wasn’t completely black yet, but there were distant tinges of dark, oily colours that pressed down like a heavy thumbprint amongst the grey. The wind picked up behind you, slamming into your backside in menacing howls.

Finally, you’d reached the cement steps—

But it was too late.

His tone was smoother than a crystal ball, lower than baritone, and incredibly seasoned at feigning genuineness. Hearing your name cascade from his mouth that was deceivingly shaped as a heart made your breath flatten. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but it was too late to pretend you never heard his chant. Unwillingly, your body pivoted like a stone statue, your foot taking that one victorious step back as it left the staircase.

“You walk so fast, you could have been sprinting.”

“Exercise is good.” You nearly wheezed.

For the first time, you realized just how tall Junhui was, his body appearing as a shadowy mass as the wind blew the tails of his trench coat. His brows were slanted, lips quirked, his irises so rounded you could hardly see the white bits. He was handsome in the way that some people found graveyards entrancing. It was the eeriness that allured you.

“You left your coffee.” He stated.

“I realized I had somewhere to be.” You tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to evade the nervous eye fluttering.

“As anyone would, it’s getting late.”

The wind whistled between you, dark clouds swirling above your head as though the sky were a witch’s cauldron.

“I think it might rain,” you said meekly, “are you looking to ask me something?”

Junhui took a step forward. He’d never been this close to you before, maybe a few inches away from the tip of your nose. Your gaze tripped to his eye, the eye that Mingyu had driven his clenched fist into that one night, causing Junhui’s head to thrust back against the plaster. You swallowed the salty brick in your throat.

“I heard you like to purge now.” Junhui said with a smile. You swore his caramel gaze glinted with excitement.

Your blood froze. How did he know about that? Junhui saw through you like a translucent piece of plastic. He saw how you inwardly panicked.

“I was surprised,” he cooed, “you don’t seem like the type… But I suppose all that running around with Mingyu changed your morals.”

Your heart was beating at such a frantic pace you feared it may dislodge itself from your chest and land in your mouth.

“I’m so elated you found purpose,” his midnight fronds then fell mischievously before his eyes, keeping the candor of his secrets hidden from you, “the purge is a time of cleansing intended to help people like us find a little alleviation in the world. That one person whose been causing you grief? You won’t have to worry about their disgusting discrepancy that makes you so infuriated. It’s quite healing,” Junhui purred, “if you ask me.”

It felt as though someone just ripped your tongue from between your teeth. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. A splash of rain thumped your forehead, and yet you allowed the cold bead to trickle along the side of your nose and run onto your cheek. Junhui’s hand delicately raised, his thumb caressing the droplet away. He stood closer now, eliminating any room in which the wind could whisper through, his bangs tickling your forehead as his onyx pupils bore through your heated face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking toward your lips through his heavy lashes, his fingers pointing your chin upward, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because Mingyu can’t take care of you.”

“I-I trust him,” You managed to squeak, though it required every bone in your body to summon equal modicums of courage.

“C’mon,” Junhui seemed to taunt, “you know who I am, right? I can have any weapon, any blueprint, any ctv footage I want directly in my hands, and all it takes is a single phone call.” He grinned wolfishly. “Besides, Mingyu doesn’t have the most durable history of looking out for others.”

His grip on your chin hardened like steel, heart-shaped lips pressed lightly to your ear’s cusp, “you do know what happened to Minghao, don’t you?”

Your body turned more frigid than ice, the warm blood that pumped beneath your skin running colder with every second that Junhui stood, seeing straight through you and to his old friend he’d hurt so dearly. You instantly grew sick to your stomach. The universe beyond Junhui’s shadow was spinning wildly, darting in nauseating circles like a carousel. The images came in flickers; the truck pulling into the driveway, the window cranking down, the crack of the gun as its bullet pierced a shape in the darkness. No wonder Jihoon and Wonwoo were friends with Junhui. He had been the other person in Mingyu’s car.

You felt lightheaded, like you were going to faint.

“I’ll let you go, but just consider your options. Really, truly consider them.” Junhui murmured. “I’m sure you have some personal contentions kept covert beneath that kind tongue of yours. Given your participation, I know you can upheaval your need to feel purification. If you’re wise, you’ll cleanse with us, with me, as you are entitled to.”

Without a single ripple Junhui broke away, his touch drifting like the edges of a silk blanket from your cheek. Immediately afterward, a disturbing burst of wind whipped between your bodies, inducing a long shiver that crept down your spine and fizzled at your fingertips. Your throat felt like cracked sandpaper and your chest bottomed out with a horrendous, wrenching fear.

Junhui knew that Mingyu didn’t fear him, but he knew that you feared him, and he knew that your fear would grow to consume you now that you’d been introduced to the devastating truth. 

The radio was on, high-pitched static and monotonous advisement rasping through the car’s sound system. It was clear that in time, there would be a chorus of other harsh noises leaping to fill the sky, any pockets of oxygen, and the spaces that lingered between your hazy breathing. Yet in the dense heat, you could care less.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of The Annual Purge, sanctioned by the government.

It was hot, burning. The air felt like scorching linen that pressed fire into your skin. Mingyu’s teeth scraped along your collarbones, the thin layer of flesh that mapped over them singed with bruises and bites and kisses that still glistened.

Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.

The radio continued to blip. Your fingers tangled through his earth-toned tresses, gripping the thick strands and tugging on them as your throat started to ache. The windows were splotched with oily fingerprints that had been left earlier, when you first climbed onto his lap.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Your legs quivered over his thighs, his hands guiding your hips with such a brute strength that the pain welled into numbness and everything that surrounded you seemed nonexistent, save for where your bodies connected like a jewel to its staff. His forehead fell on your shoulder, groans muffled as they brushed your hot skin. He continued to hit deep, and you knew you couldn’t hold on for much longer, the sparks catching a foreshadowing flame 

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

It was then, when your weight came down on his lap for the final time, his hips stuttering upward at the perfect moment, that your head tossed back and you felt the energy rip from your body in a single scream. Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against him, working the pleasure for all its worth. You then buried your face into his neck, a soft sea of your whimpers filling the thick air whilst Mingyu emptied inside you, filling you with warmth.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the Purge concludes.

For a moment, you just needed to close your eyes and breathe in his scent, hear his heartbeat, feel the familiar heat spread throughout your abdomen. He squeezed your hips tight, and his words were barely audible, attempting to drown over the radio’s static as well as the heavy breaths from your lungs. You heard them, even if your ears really had to strain to decipher the syllables whispered at the peak of his sensitivity. Mingyu said he loved you, and he meant it with every ounce of his soul as he felt your body shake in his arms.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and a nation, reborn.

And you would have meekly hummed the words in return, if the sudden cacophony of a siren didn’t shred the air like pastry, startling your system that had just come down from the best cloud nine experience you could ever fathom. It would have been wondrous to bask in the afterglow, to trace patterns on his biceps and run your lips over the scar in his brow.  It had all been purloined from you in an instant. Though your centre still ached, you crept off his lap and into the passenger seat, cleaning yourself up as best you could.

“Here,” Mingyu held out his jacket that he’d tossed in the backseat, probably since your training in the fields, “it’ll keep you warm if it actually rains tonight.���

“Thanks.” You murmured whilst slipping the fabric around your body, noting that something a little heavy was inside one of the pockets. You remembered the gun was still inside. Suddenly, Mingyu started the car, the engine purring lowly and musty clouds of exhaust puffing into the empty parking lot.

He tapped the steering wheel with his palm, “where should we head?”

When the sirens faded away, you looked to him and smiled, “wherever you want.”

The red sun seemed anxious to disappear, for its rays cracked across the sky like bloodied, broken ice, hurriedly pushing itself further below the horizon as Mingyu drove into town. The Purge never introduced an easy atmosphere to stomach, yet tonight, you felt the bile in your throat was more acidic than usual. Maybe it was because you knew a huge secret, one that tied Mingyu’s hatred to Junhui’s existence.

You didn’t confess to Mingyu anything. Every word that seeped like a venom from Junhui’s lips was sealed within you, and only you. It was already painful enough for Mingyu to brace through such a traumatic incident. There would come a time when he told you his reasons for hating Junhui, and that time had yet to come.

Even so, the terror was exhausting. The first few nights after your encounter with Junhui, your slumber was plagued by gruesome nightmares, his comfortable laughter, and the black fire that seeped in his eyes as though he were some underworld creature. You’d slam awake in a cold sweat. At times you’d be so drenched that you needed to take a shower before going back to sleep, that is, if your mind allowed you to. Sometimes you would phone Mingyu and lie to him, tell him you needed to hear the brass in his voice as your nighttime spell.

You never told him about the nightmares, the panic, or the anxiety. Now the Purge had returned after its position was quelled in the nation for a year. Your head turned to glance more thoroughly out the window after you flitted past a man holding an axe tool, a painted mask shielding his face.

It didn’t take long for the streets to begin flooding with people of the same stature, and if their eyes of thirst were hidden behind costumes, then it became more than evident in the weaponry that adorned their guises. Mingyu seemed calm as he stared out the dash, his eyes giving away nothing that would hint toward his inner complex. You sighed and let your cheek rest in your palm, your gaze unable to stop tracing each and every person that emerged from the dark crevices.

About forty-five minutes had passed, driving around the quieter outskirts of the city. Looking into the side-mirror, you watched as the occasional killing occurred behind you.

Mingyu smiled. “The night just started and you already look like you’re over it.”

The echo of a gun pierced the air. You cringed slightly.

“I don’t know if I’m over it or not. I guess I’m thinking about how I’ll ever suppress witnessing senseless murder, y’know?”

The boy gently stuck his arm out, across the glove compartment, his thumb stroking your cheek for a fond moment.

“We don’t have to hang around. I can drive up to the field where we’ll be away from the worst of it. What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You scratched at your knuckles and puffed through your nose. “I don’t even know what I want. Am I supposed to feel this way?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, “what way?”

“Melancholic, sorta like everything seems pointless. How do you feel?”

Mingyu took a wide turn to avoid a collection of smashed bottles that glinted on the road, increasing the vehicle’s speed steadily as the chaos increased. Like your first Purge, you saw the distant glow of burning buildings appear across the lake, at the other side of the city.

“I don’t even know if I can describe it anymore.” He shrugged.

You turned your head to look at him, deciding to ask something rather abrupt, but a topic you were curious on nonetheless. 

“Why did you start purging?”

The boy’s canines pushed into his bottom lip as he probed his mind.

“Because I was friends with someone who wanted to. Even involving yourself once makes enemies. You can’t hide from it after that.” 

Staring at the side of his face, you felt almost dirty for knowing a pivotal piece belonging to Mingyu’s past.

“Were you friends with Junhui?”

There was a thick silence as you waited for Mingyu’s response.

“At one point, yes.” He admitted, his words sounding distasteful. 

You shifted up in the seat, stretching out your hand to rub Mingyu’s bicep. 

“I don’t care if you were. I know you aren’t the same as him, and that this night changes people. You don’t let it consume you like he does.”

Mingyu took a turn through a wide alleyway to avoid a hostile situation escalating at the far end of the intersection. You didn’t get a good look as the sky was continuing to lose its orange light, but the flash of the group’s masks and weapons was convincing enough to take a different path.

You couldn’t help but note that Mingyu’s eyes had become slightly watered.

“It was never about purification,” he told you, “I never had any specific target, or someone I detested. Neither did Jun. But he comes from a family that relies on purging as their income. His mom designs weapons and his dad works for some underground branch, assigning bounties. He just isn’t the same as us. I was lucky if I could even hold a gun in my hands without trembling. I had to learn how to desensitize myself. For Jun, it was almost natural.”

A familiar sickness made your stomach twirl.

“It’s sad he had to grow up like that.” You sighed, glancing out the window whilst Mingyu remained silent. 

A few minutes later, and you were laughing. “I didn’t mean to make the mood so terrible. I was just wondering.”

“I know,” Mingyu said, his lips curling warmly, “I can’t blame you for being curious, baby. I just don’t think back on my past all that much.”

He then gave you a thoughtful look, and your chest started fluttering embarrassingly fast. “I like focusing on right now, where I have you.”

It was quiet again, to which you let your thoughts roam astray. 

You pictured the night your father disappeared, the night your mother’s life was taken away from her when she wasn’t even capable of defending herself. The feeling of coming down the stairway to broken glass, spilt moonlight, and a dirtied face lugging her away couldn’t be compared to any pain. And daring to unlock that enraged, bitter half of yourself, you thought to applying pressure on the trigger that killed the man responsible for her death.

Those memories influenced your appreciation, your gratitude, toward Mingyu, the boy who you had always admired at a distance, never knowing he could be so tender and benevolent. It was possible that you could have turned out similar to Junhui if you let your indignation take control. Seeing how Mingyu always remained so grounded helped you keep your footing, and you hoped there never came a day when you started looking at the world how Junhui did.

All of sudden, your musing was shattered when a pick-up truck roared from an alleyway and soared into the street, plumes of grey smoke pumping from its pipes as the tires screeched against the asphalt.

”Mingyu, watch out!” You screeched, gripping the steering wheel.

At the same time, Mingyu veered away from the truck, your heart nearly tearing a hole right through your chest as the head of your vehicle rammed into a light post. The collision jolted your body forward, though the seatbelt kept you strapped in and unscathed. Mingyu cursed through his teeth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He rasped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” You replied shakily.

Mingyu’s facial expression relaxed for less than a second. He appeared ready to oblige, though casting another inspection into his features relayed a nauseating truth. Suddenly, Mingyu’s hand gripped the back of your neck and he forced your head down between your legs. You heard it, the crisp echo of a gunshot. Except there was no bullet that punctured the glass and made fragments rain over your body. There was no dent in the metal door either. The barrel was purposely aimed to a different area, and as the second shot fired off, you felt like passing out.

They’re shooting at the tires.

Mingyu whispered to you with a coarse urgency, “this way!”

He’d managed to open his door, your only choice of escape a labyrinth of alleyways that lay beyond the mangled car. The alleys were dark, damp, and most likely rife with impending danger. Your throat closed in when you attempted to swallow. You could see the blade that Mingyu had collected from the console, already tight in his hand. Licking your leathered lips, you squirmed out his side after he’d gone through. He was squatted down, waiting for you.

Just as you joined him, you cast a glance above Mingyu’s head, your blood turning into ice as a slim figure appeared around the back end of the car. It was a man, dressed in a black raincoat, long and glossy. He was wearing a dirtied, white mask, where kohl paint was runny down the large eyes and the mouth was outlined in a red marker. Next to his side was the long barrel of a shotgun, and you felt unimaginably dizzy. Mingyu immediately identified the terror that leaked into your gaze, and with a thick gulp, he dared stare over his shoulder.

“Hey Mingyu,” the stranger mumbled, taking the pointed chin of the mask and tipping it upward, revealing a fox-like face, “long time no see.”

Mingyu wrapped his fingers around your hand and stood up slowly, ensuring your body was sheltered by his size. You breathed as quietly as your vandalized chest would allow, your diaphragm keening to erupt. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu echoed, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” The boy said, his voice very deep and smooth. The depth reverberated in your chest and made your skin crawl.

“Are you crazy, dude?” Mingyu growled. “You shot out my fucking tires.”

Wonwoo scratched the nape of his neck. “I was just following orders.”

You had no idea what was happening. The only piece of concrete knowledge that hadn’t been fogged over in tangible fear was that you could still hear incessant firing in the distant, chaotic screaming and rioting. Looking down to the blade that glinted in Mingyu’s palm, you were able to plant a little reassurance in yourself knowing of his skill and ability to stay grounded. Keeping your mouth shut, you held Mingyu’s hand in a vice grip.

“Following orders from who? What are you talking about? Are you wired?”

“It’s understandable you would think that,” Wonwoo sighed, “but I’m not. If I were though, your death might be a little easier.”

“Since when are you supposed to kill me?” Mingyu sounded flat out bewildered.

It was then that it dawned on you: Mingyu really had no idea Wonwoo was still a part of Junhui’s brigade. 

Grinding your teeth together in contemplation, you finally decided to swallow the grain in your throat and break the truth. Getting close to Mingyu’s ear, you whispered to him what you knew, no matter how much of a fable it may be perceived as. Visibly, his body stiffened. His fingers gripped the blade’s handle with an unprecedented rage. 

“What are you doing?” Mingyu implored, candor in his despair. “Even after what he did to Minghao? What the hell is holding you to him?”

“It’s nothing personal, but as you know already, Junhui is filthy rich,” Wonwoo gloomed, cocking the barrel once more, “and he’s promised me some things.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw. “You mean more of those drugs he keeps stealing from his dad’s lab? Wonwoo, what the fuck happened to you? The last time I heard from you, you were getting clean, you were going to start fresh!”

There was an unorthodox twinkle in his black stare, oddly full of emotion, hurt, repressed pain that cut deeper inside than out. 

“I tried,” Wonwoo stated, a slight anger tainting his voice, “I went to three different rehabilitation clinics. I took a vacation to the rural springs and received lessons in guided meditation and bought myself a journal so I could document my success in getting clean. And you know what? I haven’t touched that journal since the day I fucking bought it. Tell me, Mingyu. How the fuck am I supposed to care about staying clean, how the fuck am I supposed to care about anything when I saw the love of my life get fucking shot right in front of me?”

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, “Wonwoo, I--, I know that was horrible, I know that hurt you and--”

“Just shut up,” the elder interrupted flatly, “maybe today I’ll actually feel something when I put this barrel between your eyes.”

It was impossible to stand by and remain silent. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gathered a modicum of courage and poked your head around Mingyu’s shoulder.

“So you’re going to kill us just because Junhui wants you to? That’s how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Listening to his psychotic fantasies about purification and entitlement?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw taunt.

“I know you loved Minghao, I know your life hasn’t felt the same since. Minghao was Mingyu’s best friend too. You weren’t the only one who lost somebody. Do you think when I came downstairs at fourteen years old and saw my mother get pulled away through the window that I wasn’t upset, angry, confused at the world? Junhui just sees you as a pawn to delegate the matters he doesn’t want to dip his hands into, but you’re a real person. Wake up and act like it!”

For even just a fraction of a second, Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped, his finger that was feathering the gun’s trigger drifted from contact, and the stoic cloud in his eyes fuzzed a little. You were starting to feel confident. Yet just as easily as the feeling came to you, you were caught off guard by an arm that slid around your neck and lurched you backward, against a hard chest.

Mingyu barked immediately, his blade drawn and eyes wildly dilated as he turned to face the person responsible for holding onto you. Biting the inside of your mouth, you squirmed and thrashed and kicked, until something cold pressed into your temple and suddenly the energy evaporated from your body like dew droplets on an August day. 

Mingyu’s voice sounded rusty as he gaped again. “Jihoon?!”

Wonwoo piped up suddenly, and his eyes turned cold once more. “Be careful, dammit. She’s the one we can’t afford to bruise up.”

Jihoon’s arm was now wrapped around your neck, pressing against your windpipe and causing your air supply to falter. You knew it was a gun that was poking sharply into your temple. 

Mingyu’s gaze was wild and rife with fire. He growled between his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Jihoon.”

Wonwoo stepped forward and shook his gun at the boy who was closing off on your breathing. “Junhui wants that one,” he pressed the snout of his weapon into your chin, “alive.”

Jihoon sulked, his voice rumbling in his chest, “So what’s our fun tonight? We kill Mingyu and then pack up?”

You wriggled again in Jihoon’s arms, tempted to gnaw right into his wrist. “Can we not kill anybody?!”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo instructed, “I hate shouting. If any of you shout I’m planting a bullet in your brain.”

“You’re such a bore,” Jihoon whined, pressing into your windpipe with more force, painting speckles of white across your vision. Mingyu was bubbling with rage, like a teapot left on the burner for too long, his teeth clamping down so tightly his whole face was aching.

Wonwoo used the muzzle of the gun to tip your chin toward the moonlight. “A word of advice. Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“H-He’s hurting me,” you attempted to coherently spit past the pressure concocted against your throat. Jihoon was issuing enough force to make your eyes water and your head spin. Mingyu piped up, but Wonwoo was swifter and beat him to it.

“Lighten your grip.” He told Jihoon.

“I’m not even holding her that tightly!” The boy protested. Wonwoo’s face didn’t crack. He just repeated himself with an underlying menace.

“Lighten. Your. Grip.”

“It’s all pretending! Can’t you see? They’re trying to distract you so Mingyu can shove that blade through your back. Don’t be so fucking soft, Wonwoo. Look! I’m hardly touching—“

Bang.

Wonwoo dug his gun right into Jihoon’s forehead and pulled the trigger, the strict barrier against your throat immediately releasing. A fresh gulp of air hastily entered your lungs as you stumbled, Jihoon’s body folding onto the sidewalk from the corner of you eye. Mingyu quickly caught you, cupped your face in his hands and wiped the beaded sweat at your forehead. He kept whispering to you that you were okay, repeated the words in a soothing, husky mantra, his thumbs stroking your jaw in comforting sweeps. The ringing in your ears was unfathomably painful, it stung and stung and stung.

“Well,” Wonwoo announced with a despondent sigh, setting the gun over his shoulder, “I really do hate yelling.”

Mingyu’s kissed your forehead briefly. Your lips were still dry and they struggled to form a word of thanks to Wonwoo. The boy shrugged.

“He was holding you kind of tightly.”

Mingyu gasped, “no fucking kidding.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I guess I don’t expect to live much longer now that I’ve gone and wasted my companion here with my last few bullets. Not to mention I have  prolonged the existence of your life, Mingyu, which I was strictly ordered not to do. It was nice to meet your little partner in crime too.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu questioned whilst gathering you into his side.

“I didn’t follow through on my order. I can’t bring myself to do it. ” Wonwoo mumbled. “We’ll catch up in the afterlife or something. Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. You’ll probably be with Minghao while I deservedly rot. One of life’s many mysteries, right?”

There wasn’t much of an opportunity to process the situation, not when a gunshot echoed from down the alleyway and pierced the boy in his temple. The shotgun clamped in his hand clattered against the cold, concrete sidewalk, and his mask clattered off his head. His body joined the likes of Jihoon who’d been staring up at the night sky with dead, glazed eyes, a trail of red leaking down his nose. Your head pivoted and you felt a surge of vomit climb to the back of your mouth, for the person behind the trigger was Yang Yeeun, her pearl earrings flashing against the silver moonlight.

“Horrendous.” Her accent was thick with venom, heels clicking down the alleyway as she stalked in her black trousers and white dress shirt.

Intimidation sweltered against your skin at just her attire. The fact she dressed expensively for the night proved she wasn’t expecting to get in any confrontation that would result in her own blood being spilt.

“I expected Jihoon to cause trouble, but not Wonwoo. He was so promising. I guess he really did need drugs to stay sane.”

She stepped over a corpse you hadn’t noted lying face down in the alley, growling between her teeth.

“Filthy,” Yeeun remarked without a grain of empathy, “nothing but filth.”

Mingyu gripped your wrist and you felt your body stumble behind him. Keeping your arms drawn against his back and softly breathing, you inhaled the musky scents of damp, nighttime air and car exhaust. Though you couldn’t directly see Yeeun, her voice was still audible, lacquered in such a feigned delicacy it reminded you of Junhui. Mingyu hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t have to speak for you to know his heart was decaying.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Yeeun cooed. She was close now, so close you peered between Mingyu’s legs and saw her shiny heels standing in blood spatters. 

She regarded Mingyu like they were still together, like they still reflected the image of romance that was envied by so many people, you included. Her arm extended, pale, numb fingers brushing along his amber cheek. You wanted to scream at her to never touch him again. It was her own mistake to let Mingyu go, when he was positively in love with her and preached their future with honeyed words, like an artist who preaches with paint.

“You know, I miss you,” she hummed, tracing the flint of his jaw, “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness your old best friends get a bullet to the brain, but, that is what happens when tensions are high, and, you know, we can’t afford to let many errors slip past us. Now, let’s not let that put a damper on the night. It’s still young, and so much has yet to happen. How about you come with me?”

You knew there was a handgun she was keeping pressed to her leg right now, and that if neither of you complied, it would be put to good use. Mingyu hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips were tight and his eyes were concentrated. Maybe he was trying to scheme.

Yeeun stretched out her gun and let the muzzle clink with Mingyu’s knife, trying to push the weapon from his hand.

“Just drop this and follow me, sweetheart. Due to these unforeseen events, there’s been a change and your presence has been urgently requested.”

Quicker than expected, Mingyu complied. He let the blade untwine from his grasp and rattle against the ground. If he did have some sort of plan, you were hoping that giving up his only weapon was part of it.

“She can come too,” Yeeun purred, “Junhui wants to see both of you.”

Yeeun trudged behind you, her weapon drawn, a manicured nail feathering upon the trigger just in case one of you attempted something of trickery. Tall, grimy buildings surrounded you, leading up to the black sky, where the stars gazed down in lamentation. Mingyu’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist with such steely strength that you felt your circulation dwindle, though the tiny, tingling feeling would never surpass the fear that sat like a pound of tar in your stomach. Similar to your first purge, tears pushed at your ducts, though there was a certain exhaustion shrouding your body that prevented them from falling.

Despite your unstable condition, the possibility of death snickering right in your face, the wavering thought that either Junhui or Yeeun could imbue a torturous fate, you were worried about Mingyu.

Yeeun was playing him expertly. She knew it wasn’t her heart that cracked after their breakup, it was Mingyu that suffered independently.  Only he bit the nail, only he felt the salt mix with his wounds, and only he would welt in self-contemplation over a love that he nurtured, alone. If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate? Would he be afraid of hurting someone he used to treasure so dearly? You didn’t doubt his affections for you. His heart was strong, but what if Yeeun’s deceit was stronger?

The labyrinth of alleyways had finally led you to a dead end. Your wrist shook in Mingyu’s grasp, for the man nonchalantly leaning against the solid wall was none other than—

“Junhui,” Yeeun cawed, “you won’t believe what the fuck just happened. Wonwoo popped Jihoon. He’s dead, should have brought more crew instead of displacing them like we did.”

She finished her sentence by fitting her gun right snug at the back of your head.

Junhui spat onto the floor before he unstuck himself from leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark trench coat.  

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, “using Wonwoo and Jihoon was a squander anyways. I could have concluded both their lives at a much more efficient pace. I’m guessing you took care of the traitor?”

Yeeun cackled, “right though the side of his head. He fell like a stack of cards.”

“It’s a real disappointment,” Junhui huffed, “since the beginning Wonwoo and Jihoon have shown the utmost loyalty for me and my craft. But, I guess this just demonstrates how purifying this device truly is. We’re ridding the streets of scum, aren’t we?”

Mingyu released your wrist, and you felt like a bomb had just dropped to the soles of your feet. His lips parted and his voice was deep. Hearing him speak allowed your heartbeat to calm, even with Yeeun’s gun taunt into your hair.

“The streets will never be rid of scum until you’re over and done with.”

Junhui cocked his head, his mouth falling open and his eyes twinkling as though a tiny flame had ignited in their inky depths.

“And here is the biggest traitor of them all!” 

Junhui tossed his head back and ludic laughter echoed into the compressing air, “how do you suppose you’ll rid me, Mingyu? Are you going to give me another black eye? Curse at me? Damn me to hell and back because of what happened that night? Damn me behind my back because I took Yeeun away from you? The girl you once loved and valued with your every essence?”

It was then that Junhui shifted his sights on you, his lips pulling wide in a smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mingyu, but your partner and I exchanged a very compelling conversation a while ago. I guess word never got around to you.”

Junhui’s boots dragged over the crumbs of dirt and asphalt that littered the ground, his presence nearing closer and closer. When you tried to lower your head, Yeeun’s gun pressed with a stricter force into your scalp, filling you with enough fear to keep your gaze straight.

“You’re very fortunate, Mingyu. To have such a pretty thing to call your own.”

Junhui’s hand reached for your chin. His touch was colder than the dark shadows that masked his soul, and it engendered a shiver to slither along your spine. 

“Don’t put your hands anywhere near her!” Mingyu seethed, to which Yeeun instantly switched her gun to point against the back of his skull.

You could see his jaw clench from your peripheral vision. But Junhui didn’t listen, and his thumb pushed down on your bottom lip as though he intended to brand your skin with his insanity. He spoke lowly, smoothly, confidence lathered into his every syllable.

“Do you know why I did it?” Junhui stared into your eyes and asked.

“Dd-did w-what?” You warbled.

“It wasn’t because I was jealous of Wonwoo and Minghao, or because I had some personal contention against the boy. I didn’t even think when I pressed the trigger. I spent the whole night adding so much blood to my hands, that the moment I saw another shadow move, my body just - it just acted for me. Like it was an instinct. I wasn’t sad... But I wasn’t happy. I only knew I was no longer myself... I was someone stronger, someone enhanced, and that is the greatness of this evening!”

Junhui clutched your shoulders and shook them, his eyes alight with a certain derangement that petrified you to your core.

“You’re reborn! Don’t you get it? You’re no longer tied down by the concept of goodness, and your free will is truly free. When will you two realize that--”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu shoved into your side so aggressively you stumbled sideways and collapsed on the sooty ground. The air was knocked from your lungs and your heart pumped like it had been electrocuted. Fuzzy splotches of colour coalesced before your watered vision, projecting nothing but an obnoxious blur. There was shouting, the loud crack of a harmless gunshot, and scuffling that emanated from every direction. Before you could separate the blacks from the blues, something cold wrapped around your wrist and dragged you backward. Then, your entire body was thrust up against the brick, scrapes and bruises already forming on your bare skin.

When your head stopped spinning and the world dulled down from reflecting three versions of the same image, you were shuttering, whimpering, as Junhui held you firmly against the wall.

Across the alleyway you could see that Mingyu had Yeeun pressed to the floor, his palm covering her throat whilst he took advantage of his weight to keep her slim frame still. He fought to unwind the firearm from her fingers, but when he did, the weapon was digging into her forehead. You wanted to scream at him to pull the trigger, to fucking end her already, even if your throat felt like it had been scraped of all moisture and scrubbed with a pad of steel wool. You heard Junhui snicker, his mouth twisted cynically. It was evident what he was thinking, for it was identical to your own thought.

“Like hell you’ll do it!” Junhui screamed.

If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate?

Love. It was just as much a weapon as it was a comfort. And as Mingyu stared down at Yeeun, silver pearls of water slipping from her brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen for, you felt consumed by terror, that your life may truly end at this exact location. Mingyu proved your doubts were transparent and his finger jammed against the trigger. Except – there was nothing, nothing at all. The gun had no ammunition left. Yeeun sighed heavily.

“Don’t do this,” she mewled, still wriggling beneath him, full-fledged tears pumping down her flushed, scarlet face, “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just – you wouldn’t understand why – he didn’t leave me any choice!”

Mingyu released his ironclad grip over her throat and used his fingers to sweep the stray hairs from her eyes.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He abruptly snapped. “You lie through your teeth like it’s the only thing you’re good for. You don’t love anyone or anything. I bet you lost that silver spoon you were born with, huh? Daddy’s security systems aren’t as bulletproof as he thought they were? So you had to run to Junhui?”

She gargled slightly on her own saliva, coughing a bit of foam, though she never tried to respond.

Mingyu lifted Yeeun’s head in his hands. Squeezing your eyes shut didn’t make the snapping noise any less gruesome. If anything, it only amplified the sickness building in your gut, it only amplified Junhui’s enraged storm of cursing as his companion’s body went limp, her eyes stained with not even a smidgen of regret. If there was any regret at all, it was that she couldn’t have killed you herself. Hope began trickling back into your body, and, taking advantage of Junhui’s distracted vacancy, you attempted to give him a swift kick.

And yet that thought was a mistake in itself. Junhui lost his composure, his sophistication.

Your struggling only encouraged the anger spilling inside him, prompted him to uncover a blade that was hidden inside his coat, its silver gleam reflecting off your eyes for a millisecond before you felt its sharp edge nuzzle into your skin, somewhere around your stomach. A surge so violent and unbridled soared through your body, forced you to lean over the blade where your eyes soaked up the unholy sight of Junhui’s knuckles pale as snowflakes wrapped around the handle. You spluttered out nothing but air, watched as dark liquid began seeping from the wound and wetting your shirt.

Junhui took it upon himself to slowly, ever so slowly, extract the knife from its crevice, his teeth grinding together as just the point remained in your flesh. Then, he dug the blade back in through its opening, giving the weapon a slight twist. 

When Mingyu had risen from Yeeun’s corpse and tore Junhui away from you, a silent sob wobbled off your lips. At some point that your mind was too fogged to remember, you were sitting, slumped against the wall as thick, grey storm clouds crowded the night sky. When you could no longer find solace amongst the stars, your gaze flitted across the alleyway, to where Junhui and Mingyu were a vicious tangle of limbs that punched and kicked and pulled. It reminded you of the party, the stupid party that had somehow preluded your path to cross with Mingyu’s. They were shouting at one another, at war for Junhui’s knife that kept slipping from their grasps like butter.

Wincing, you stretched an arm to fold over your stomach, attempting to apply even the meekest amount of pressure to your wound. Your brow furrowed when something hard nudged against your arm, a harsh weight that seemed to sit inside your jacket.

Well, it wasn’t your jacket, it was Mingyu’s.

Chewing down on the inside of your mouth, you ignored the pain that cut through your every nerve and fought to wind your hand within the jacket, fingers poking and shuffling around until they brushed the pocket stitched to the inside. Despite your battered condition, you nearly yelped when you gripped the handgun, the same gun that you’d used to practice your aim in the fields. There was not a moment to squander, nor a moment to think. Your whole body screamed as you drew the weapon from its pouch, fingers slippery with blood as you fought to turn the safety off.

Your entire arm shook like a brittle leaf in mid-autumn, yet you still held the gun forth, your head banging, your vision blurred, bile pushing and stinging against your throat. Junhui had Mingyu pinned to the grit, his boot heavy on Mingyu’s wrist. Raised in the air was the knife, stained with red globs of your blood. It was just like the party, except it wasn’t a tiny glass shard sealed between Junhui’s fingers. It was a literal hacking device. There was nothing you could do to stop your arm from shaking. You had no more ammunition apart from the bullet left in the gun.

What if I miss, what if I miss Junhui and hit Mingyu? What if I hit Junhui but it isn’t enough to stop him? I don’t think I can do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t—

“So,” Junhui barked, his vocal chords strained and hoarse, “where’s your little guardian angel now, huh? If it weren’t for your girlfriend fucking getting in the way two years ago, you would have had it, Mingyu. But now there’s no one to save you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. Finally, I’m entitled to purge how I’ve always wanted.”

The tears finally erupted from their ducts, streaming down your dusted cheeks and dripping at your chin. You felt like a child, a blubbering infant.

But it wasn’t worth it to lose Mingyu.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened when you sucked back the distracting binds of your self-doubt and clamped the trigger down. It didn’t register that the bullet had struck Junhui’s head until his body collapsed off of Mingyu’s lap, lying lax on the pebbles like a sack of flour. It didn’t register that you had saved Mingyu’s life until the first few cold splashes of rain thumped against your forehead, dampened your lashes, and trickled along your scuffed flesh. The gun dropped from your fingers and the whole world went black.

The next time you awoke, you were faced with a pair of glimmering, penny eyes that rapidly blinked, tiny crinkles mapping along wet, amber skin. An instant pain jolted into your gut when you attempted to fidget, and a whine nearly tore itself from between your cracked lips.

“Don’t try to move,” you heard a rough voice, “stay still as best you can.”

“Mingyu?” You croaked, reaching upward to stroke his cheek. 

His fingers coiled gently around your wrist, bringing the scars that were carved like ancient hieroglyphics to his lips. The second he pressed kisses to the old wounds, you smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he rasped, his eyes soft, gleeful, “you fucking saved me, y’know? It’s because of you I’m still here, still breathing. All because of you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Wait… So, I’m not… dreaming?” 

Despite Mingyu’s earlier advisement to stay still, you forced your body upward, though you faced immediate repercussions as a jarring bolt struck you in the stomach. Mingyu attempted to make you relax once more, but you refused to listen to his cooing. Distant thunder rolled in the distance, and you could see a pale glow beaming behind the flossy clouds that shielded the sky. Seven o’clock was probably on the brink of arrival. You were still in the alleyway. Casting a glance toward your new wounds, you noticed that Mingyu had wrapped his jacket tightly around your waist.

“Now would be a good time for lots of gauze, right?” You smiled.

Mingyu settled his palm delicately at the back of your neck and pushed your lips together, a smile slowly dancing along his mouth as he felt your fingers thread through his locks. Just like Mingyu had predicted, a misty rainfall was spraying from the early morning sky, infinitesimal droplets of glass sitting upon his skin as though he were a springtime rose. You kissed his lips again, and again, and again, until the pain in your stomach became too much of a distraction and your head was falling to the crook of his neck. Stealing a glance around the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice that Junhui and Yeeun’s bodies had been laid beside each other.

You thought about what Wonwoo had said.

Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. One of life’s many mysteries, right?

Well, at least Junhui and Yeeun would share an eternal fate in the one place they truly belonged, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery where that place was either.

“Mingyu,” you reached for his shirt and gave it a small tug.

He peered down at you through the fanned arch of his lashes.

“Are you still in a lot of pain, baby? I wish I could take it all away from you. I’m sure the medical services will be here soon, I promi—“

“I love you.”

Mingyu stuttered over the humid air. “O-Oh – I, um, I – I love you too… But, I think you already knew that.”

A molten blush crawled up from the column of his neck and flushed throughout his face akin to a raspberry burn. Though it ached to giggle, you couldn’t evade in doing so, your eyes turned to crescent moons as more golden splashes of dawn light ebbed through the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, you no longer heard gunshots, incoherent slurs, riots and the skid of tires creating friction against pavement. You heard the whirr of emergency sirens and helicopter wings, medical services beginning to flood throughout the city like a creek. It was over. Mingyu was still tangible, warm, smiling whilst he pressed kisses against your forehead.

You don’t know how, but you survived the chaos, you survived Wonwoo and his ludic friend, Jihoon. You survived Yeeun and you survived Junhui.

You survived the Purge together.

✎ a/n: ugh. this is just one of those fics where you become v attached to the characters. i was able to write this quicker than expected (MINUS THE STUPID TWIST THAT STUMPED ME) bc i was truly invested in the plot, and i rly adored every moment of it. actually, this fic was supposed to be posted ages ago, i think last year? but last year was terrible in terms of my health and wellbeing, so i kinda forgot this fic existed as i went on my hiatus. anywho, in my opinion, the first purge film was the best.

i haven’t watched any of the newer purge movies tho, so they could be good! since im a horror/thriller fan, i liked the aspect of vulnerability the purge brought and how it forced ppl to invest in their capacity for violence, especially when the ppl they loved were involved. obviously - only for the fic lmao. bruh, during a real purge i am going to lock myself in the crawl space with a blanket and some cheerios. ALSO!!!! A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!! be proud of me!!!! this was an adventure!!! i hope you can enjoy the story as much as i!! hearing ur thots is appreciated as always!

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – A LITTLE TASTE (S01E14)

Doctor (Dr. Givens): Fold your arms behind your back…

                                  Lifting your hands as high as they’ll go.

                                  And extend your arms forward.

                                  Bend your elbows.

                                  Press up against my hands.

                                  Thank you, Lieutenant. 

                                   Be right back.

                                                cutscene

                                            [toaster pops]

                                           [liquid pouring]

                                            [door closes]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Well?

Kelly Severide: Full duty starting next shift!

Leslie Shay: [gasps]

Clarice: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Bang!

Leslie Shay: Congratulations.

Kelly Severide: Pretty great, huh?

Leslie Shay: Yes, so great. 

Clarice: So happy for you.

                                            [kissing sound]

Kelly Severide: Thank you.

Leslie Shay: Uh, hey, just a heads-up. 

                                            [water pouring]

Leslie Shay: Eric Whaley’s still there.

Kelly Severide: I got no beef with him.

                          How’s the little one?

Clarice: [laughs] 

                                                cutscene

Leslie Shay: Yeah. I mean, things are working out surprisingly well,

                      considering Clarice is in the bathroom every ten

                      minutes. Hm, Severide is just… he’s been totally cool

                      since she moved in.

Gabby Dawson: That’s nice of him.

Leslie Shay: I mean, going up and down that spiral staircase with a

                     baby, that’s gonna suck. But we should probably just

                     leave him up there until he can walk down himself.

                     Um, I get that you’re not a huge fan of Clarice, but

                     we’re a couple now, and I’m looking to basically be a

                     stepmom. So I need your support.

Gabby Dawson: I’m sleeping with Mills.

Leslie Shay: I knew it! You skank. You kept it from me this whole

                      time?

Gabby Dawson: We agreed to keep it cool at work, so…

Leslie Shay: Does Casey know?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t think so.

Leslie Shay: Are you gonna tell him?

Gabby Dawson: Do you think I should?

Leslie Shay: So you’re over him?

Gabby Dawson: Look, he zigged, I zagged. Wasn’t meant to be.

Leslie Shay: How’s the sex with Mills?

Gabby Dawson: [laughs] I… I really like him, but it’s not just a

                            physical thing. So let’s just say he’s very…

                            detail-oriented.

                            But here’s the problem. He wants me to meet his

                            mom, and I’m… I’m just not there yet.

                            What would you do?

Leslie Shay: Detail-oriented, huh?

                                      [start alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Squad 3.

                                             [overlapping chatter]

Matt Casey: Driver fled the scene, but the passenger’s pinned in

                      there pretty good. Door’s jammed. We gotta cut her

                      out. Cruz, Otis, get ready to assist Squad with the

                      pin in.

Gabby Dawson: Are you hurt anywhere?

Victim 1: It’s okay.

Leslie Shay: All right, sweetie, this is gonna go around your neck.

Gabby Dawson: Can you tell us your name?

Victim 1: Ambrosia.

Gabby Dawson: Oh yeah? You working tonight?

Victim 1 (Ambrosia): A little. And you were in my dreams.

                                   [sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Whoa! Hey, hey, hey! Come here, sweetie.

                            Hon, what did you take, sweetie?

Leslie Shay: Dawson, track marks.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Casey, how long will we get in there?

Matt Casey: Five, maybe ten. Let’s go!

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Capp, be ready with the spreaders! Hadley,

                                    we need the ram for a dash roll!

Hadley: Got it!

                                        [metal whines]

                                 [indistinct radio chatter]

                                     [saw cutting glass]

                                         [hammering]

Matt Casey: All right.

                     All right.

                     Okay, good.

Firefighter: Good. 

Leslie Shay: All right, guys, watch her head. 

Gabby Dawson: Try to keep her steady.

Leslie Shay: Okay, good. She’s gonna arrest. 

Gabby Dawson: We gotta get her to the hospital now.

Leslie Shay: Let’s get her up. Let go of the handle.

Gabby Dawson: There you go.

                             I’m barely getting a pulse on her.

Matt Casey: Fifth heroin OD this week. What the hell’s going on?

                                                   - title -

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): Yeah, I asked Nancy what was on her bucket

                                      list once she got out. 

                                      She didn’t get the reference. You forget how

                                      closed off these prisoners are in terms of

                                      movies and… 

                                                  [buzzing]

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): … popular culture and stuff. Little things that

                                     we take for granted.

                                     I’m just gonna give my congratulations, and

                                     then I’ll let you two have your time together.

Matt Casey: Sounds good.

Nancy Casey: [exhales] 

                        Can’t believe this is really happening.

                        Rick.

                        Thank you.

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): I’ll drop by once you get all settled.

Nancy Casey: Okay.

Matt Casey: Ready?

                      All right, mom.

                                              cutscene

                                              [buzzing]

                                 [gate shutter rolling open]

Hadley: Oh, boy. 

Capp: Is that him?

                               [all cheering and applauding]

Hadley: Hey, buddy.

Capp: Welcome back.

Kelly Severide: Dawson.

Chief Boden: Welcome back. About damn time.

Kelly Severide: Thanks, Chief.

Christopher Herrmann: And the neck’s 100%, right?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, you wanna spar a few rounds after shift and

                           find out?

Christopher Herrmann: No, I’m good.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, this is uh, Pouch. The best damn thing to ever

                           happen to this house.

Mouch: Otis is transferring.

Otis Zvonecek: What? Come on. It’s like I’m being rocketed into

                           space.

                           I’m going over to Morningside.

                                             [dog yipping]

Chief Boden: Kelly, your relief Lieutenant, Eric Whaley.

Kelly Severide: It’s been a while.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Yeah.

Chief Boden: You two know each other?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, I was, uh… engaged to Eric’s sister.

Mouch: Ah, got it. The original Renee.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): There was a second one?

Chief Boden: Well, now that you’re back, Whaley will move over to

                        engine to relieve Jeff Turner for the next few shifts.

                        Okay, everyone, listen up. Some of you may know

                        Gabby’s brother, Detective Antonio Dawson. He has

                        some information from CPD for us.

Antonio Dawson: Thanks, Chief.

                               Last few weeks, I’ve seen a spike in fatal

                               overdoses. ME’s office has connected at least a

                               dozen deaths to a toxic batch of heroin. Now

                               be aware, it’s laced with fentanyl and in most

                               cases does not respond to the normal protocol

                               of naloxone. We are now approaching each

                               overdose as a potential homicide.

                                     [station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Structure

                  fire, 115... [continues indistinctly]

Antonio Dawson: Gabby. You’re on the front lines on this thing. 

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, I’ll look into it.

Antonio Dawson: See, that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do.

                               The crew that’s pushing this bad dope, they

                               don’t mess around. 

Gabby Dawson: As opposed to all those amicable drug dealers out

                            there?

                                                [engine starts]

Antonio Dawson: I’m serious. Be careful. Don’t go Gabby on this. 

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you look like hell.

Antonio Dawson: Good morning to you too.

                                                [engine starts]

                                                [sirens blaring]

                                               [horns honking]

                                                [radio chatter]

Chief Boden: Looks like the fire’s in the back, probably where the

                       kitchen is. Truck, get inside, open up the windows

                       and the exits. Give me a primary search. Engine,

                       get an attack line in the front.

Matt Casey: Herrmann, Mills, open up the back. Otis, secure the

                      utilities. Mouch, Cruz… where’s Cruz?

Joe Cruz: [grunting]

Matt Casey: Cruz, put your mask on!

                                               [glass breaking]

Joe Cruz: There’s somebody in here!

Kelly Severide: All right, we’ll find him.

                                     [glass continues breaking]

Kelly Severide: Fire department! Is there anybody in here?

                                               [explosion]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Fire’s in the exhaust system. We gotta get that

                                    aerial up to the roof.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Herrmann, Mills, get that ladder set. 

Chief Boden: Just get me a line up there.

                       (into radio) Severide, give me a progress report.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Primary search of the kitchen negative!

                                            [ladder raising]

Matt Casey: Let’s cut a vent. 

                                          [ceiling collapses]

Squad Firefighter: Hey, he’s over here!

Kelly Severide: Okay, let’s clear a path.

                                            [saw buzzing]

Kelly Severide: Hey! Grab the end.

                          [grunts]

                          All right, that’s good!

                          We got you.

                                           [saw buzzes]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Keep feeding me line!

Matt Casey: Good. 

                     (into radio) Vent’s open.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Send the water!

                                        [water spraying]

Leslie Shay: Push him all the way up.

                                        [water spraying]

Otis Zvonecek: Board-up crews.

Peter Mills: Why do they always look like gangsters.

Otis Zvonecek: Because they are. Do you have any idea what these

                           contracts are worth?

                           Vultures.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks, old timer.

                                        Kitchen ceiling is gonna need some

                                        patching up, but other than that, it’s just a

                                        lot of smoke damage.

Man 3 (Owner): It’s a sign to finally get my ass to Florida.

                           Wanna buy a bar?

Leslie Shay: [laughs]

Christopher Herrmann: [chuckles]

                                     [ambulance door shuts]

Mouch: So you a fireman or a kamikaze pilot now?

Joe Cruz: Saved the old man, fire’s out. That’s all that matters.

Mouch: It matters if you get yourself killed.

                                          [truck door closes]

                                                [siren blares]

Kelly Severide: Eric.

                          Look man, when the whole thing went down, you

                          and I weren’t talking, obviously, and… I never got

                          a chance to apologise. I really am sorry for what

                          happened.

                          We used to be friends once, right?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): I’m only here a couple more shifts.

                                                  cutscene

                                            [squad beeping]

Chief Boden: So how is your neck?

Kelly Severide: 100%.

Chief Boden: You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?

Kelly Severide: I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

Chief Boden: Yeah, right.

                        Otis, Casey, my office.

                                               [door closes]

Chief Boden: Otis, your transfer just came through. You report to

                       Morningside next shift.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, wow. Um… so it’s official?

Chief Boden: Only if you want it to be.

                        Look, we know you made this decision based off of

                        one shift there, but you have had one month to

                        think about it. We want to give you an opportunity

                        to…

Otis Zvonecek: I’m ready to go, Chief.

Matt Casey: Otis… we do a lot of ball-breaking in this house.

                      It’s not that we don’t appreciate you, but if anybody

                      ever crossed the line…

Otis Zvonecek: It’s not personal, Lieutenant. Morningside’s a

                           smaller house. I’ll have a better chance of

                           getting off elevators sooner, and  they’ll let

                           me drive.

Chief Boden: They’ll be lucky to have you.

Otis Zvonecek: Thanks Chief [clears throat]

Matt Casey: Good luck, Brian.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles] Lieutenant.

                                             [door closes]

                                                cutscene

                                    [knocks on ambo door]

Gabby Dawson: Whoa, what are you doing here?

Antonio Dawson: I need to talk real quick.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs]

Antonio Dawson: Wait, wait, wait, wait.

                              Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: [light chuckle] This ought to be good.

Antonio Dawson: If anyone calls you asking if we went to a movie

                              last night, the answer is yes. 

                              This heroin thing… is starting to blow up a little

                              bit, and I’m damn close to making some busts.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Antonio Dawson: The thing is, the guys over in Narcotics, they get

                               real territorial, and they don’t want a guy from

                               Vice taking collars from them. So I told a little

                               white lie to my boss ‘cause I wasn’t where I

                               was supposed to be last night, and I said that

                               you and I… can you just say yes if anyone

                               asks?

Gabby Dawson: Why do I feel like I’m not getting the whole story?

Antonio Dawson: Because you’re not getting the whole story.

                              I’m working a case. Will you cover for me,

                              please?

Gabby Dawson: Uh…

Antonio Dawson: Of course you will. Thank you.

                                            [kissing sound]

                                                cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, I just did a little recon on that bar

                                         owner.

Leslie Shay: You’re not actually thinking of buying it?

Christopher Herrmann: Me alone? No. But would I be willing to be

                                         a part of a consortium? Maybe.

Mouch: All right, first of all, that guy was as old as dirt. Second of

              all, he did a face plant off a ladder. I doubt he even

              recollects making an offer to sell.

Christopher Herrmann: You heard him. He wants to get his ass to

                                         Florida. He’s gonna sell that place. It’s in

                                         an up-and-coming neighbourhood, he

                                         owns the property, and he���s got the

                                         Brass ring… a liquor license.

                                         There’s the worm. It’s right there. Who’s

                                         gonna be the early bird? Why not us?

                                         I’m telling you, if this place hits the open

                                         market, some hipster douche bags are

                                         gonna swoop in and print money. 

Mouch: Hmm.

                                              [laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: No vision in this house!

                                        None! 

                                        Zero!

                                             [laughter]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): [sighs] So, um… who was this new Renee? 

                                    I’m curious.

Kelly Severide: I apologised. I offered to put it past us. If that’s not

                          something that you’re up for and you’d rather keep

                          it frosty till you leave, I can do that too.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): What are you apologising for? For dumping

                                    her two days before the wedding or for

                                    what happened after?

Kelly Severide: You’re not in full possession of all the facts here,

                           Eric.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Then enlighten me, Kelly.

                                    That’s what I thought. 

                                    You were a coward then, and you’re a coward

                                    now.

                                            [chair rolls back]

Kelly Severide: Before this goes any further south, why don’t you

                          walk away?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Or what?

Nancy Casey: Excuse me?

                        Is Matthew Casey here?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, he’s right this way.

Matt Casey: How’d you get here?

Nancy Casey: I took the bus. 

Matt Casey: What’s going on?

Nancy Casey: Just wanted to see where my son works.

Matt Casey: This is where I work.

Nancy Casey: Well, are you embarrassed that I’m here?

Matt Casey: No, I… Of course not.

Nancy Casey: Well, then can I get a tour?

Matt Casey: Yeah. Uh… Um… You saw the truck. 

Nancy Casey: This is your truck? 

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: Wow. 

Matt Casey: And, uh… Oh, this is Peter, uh, behind you, mom.

                     This is Peter Mills, our candidate. This is my mom.

Peter Mills: Oh, hey. 

Nancy Casey: Hi.

                        Oh.

Nancy & Peter: [laughs] 

Peter Mills: You have got a great son. 

Nancy Casey: That’s very kind of you to say.

Peter Mills: Oh. May I? 

Nancy Casey: Oh, yes. Please help yourself.

Peter Mills: [chuckles] Thank you. 

Matt Casey: Oh, uh, this is, uh, Gabriela Dawson.

Nancy Casey: Oh. You… you were at my hearing? 

Gabby Dawson: Yes, that’s right.

Nancy Casey: Oh, thank you so much. That just… that meant the

                        world to me, and I’m sure it did to Matthew as

                        well. 

Gabby Dawson: Oh, ma’am, it was… it was my pleasure, and uh… 

                            congratulations for… well, you know, uh, getting

                            out of… you know [exhales]

Nancy Casey: Prison. 

Gabby Dawson: Yeah [nervous chuckle] Yep, prison. The big house.

                            The big house… is… they even call it the big

                            house anymore? Probably not, I’m guessing.

Nancy Casey: Ohh! She’s adorable! She’s an absolute joy. Forget

                         Hallie, this is the kind of woman I’ve always

                         envisioned you being with.

Gabby Dawson: [nervous laugh]

                                                    cutscene

                                               [water running]

Peter Mills: [sighs]

                    You given any more thought to dinner on Sunday? 

                    I g… I just gotta tell my mom if you’re coming. 

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, sorry. Sorry. Dispatch has been pounding us

                             with runs. 47’s out of service, so we’ve just been

                             slammed. And um, my cousin might actually be

                             staying with me that week.

Peter Mills: Are you nervous about dinner?

Gabby Dawson: Not at all. You?

Peter Mills: I mean, I’m the one who extended the invitation, so…

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Right. Of course. No, I just, uh…

Peter Mills: Am I getting in the way of you and Casey?

Gabby Dawson: Absolutely not. He’s just a friend. I’m only seeing

                            you. I only wanna see you. I just wanna make

                            sure we’re not moving too quickly or anything.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

                                         [door slams]

Peter Mills: Text me. Let me know.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales]

                                          cutscene

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Why don’t you tell Whaley what happened?

Kelly Severide: [sighs] What difference would it make?

Leslie Shay: He’d get off your ass, for one.

                                  [locker door slams]

Kelly Severide: Look, if I was gonna say anything, I would have said

                           something then.

Leslie Shay: Maybe he needs to know.

Kelly Severide: You think I’m in a big hurry to revisit the whole

                           thing? It’s over. It’s done. He can say what he

                           wants. I don’t care.

                                           cutscene

Mouch: Lieutenant, I gotta talk to you about Cruz.

Matt Casey: What about him?

Mouch: He’s been acting a little off. You notice that as well?

Matt Casey: I figured it was a private matter.

Mouch: Yeah, and I keep asking him to tell me what it is, but he

              won’t open up.

Matt Casey: Then stop asking him about it, Mouch.

                               [start alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. Person in distress, Wallingford Motel.

                                         [siren blares]

Leslie Shay: So why are you guys keeping it on the sly?

Gabby Dawson: It started out being what I wanted, but then Boden

                            called him on the carpet, gave him some vague BS

                            about putting time in to ‘master your craft.’

                            And Mills really took it to heart.

Leslie Shay: I don’t know, if I dug someone as much as you dig him,

                     I wouldn’t be able to hide it, especially working

                     together 24 hours a day, side by side.

Gabby Dawson: Are you trying to make me feel worse?

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Dawson, for someone’s who’s such a mad

                      woman on the job, you are so timid in your personal

                      life. I mean, take some risks, have some fun.

Gabby Dawson: You know what, thank you. Excellent point, which

                             you have made before, granted. But I’m at a

                             place in my life where I could really embrace the

                             message. I’m texting him right now.

Leslie Shay: Nice.

Gabby Dawson: When’s Clarice due?

Leslie Shay: Ugh, two weeks. Getting butterflies.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, plenty of time.

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Man 4 (Hotel Manager): I heard screaming, but we never have any

                                         trouble around here. Nothing.

Leslie Shay: [exasperated sigh] I hate hotels.

                                             [knocking on door]

Gabby Dawson: Paramedics.

Man 5 (Naked Man): Don’t tell my wife.

                                                [bag unzipping]

Leslie Shay: She took a hot shot.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, honey? Can you hear me?

                                               [dramatic music]

Leslie Shay: Agonal respiration. She’s barely breathing.

                     Fight for us, girl. Come on. You get your rocks off

                     watching girls shoot up?

Man 5 (Naked Man): I never force them to do anything. That was

                                   completely their thing.

Leslie Shay: Their?

                      [sighs] There’s another girl in here.

                      (into radio) 61 to main. We need another ambulance

                      and CPD for a DOA.

Man 5 (Naked Man): Oh, God.

Gabby Dawson: Can’t get a line in. Her veins collapsed.

                            I’m gonna go sublingual. If this is the same bad

                            dope, we don’t have time for anything else.

Leslie Shay: I can’t get her jaw open.

Gabby Dawson: Come on, come on, come on.

                            [silently] Come on.

Victim 2: [gasps]

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Victim 2: What’s happening?

Gabby Dawson: You’re okay. 

Leslie Shay: You’re all right.

Gabby Dawson: My name’s Gabby. This is Leslie. We’re gonna get

                            you to the hospital, all right?

                            Come on, let’s get her in the chair.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Man, this stuff is gonna wipe out half the city.

Leslie Shay: Hey Antonio.

Antonio Dawson: Hey, Victoria. It’s me. What the hell happened?

                              It wasn’t enough for you to hit this junk on your

                              own? You had to bring Natalie back into it? 

                              She was clean! I told you to stay away from her!

Gabby Dawson: Antonio.

                           What’s the problem?

                           Hey! What the hell’s going on?

Antonio Dawson: There’s this new crew out of New York that’s

                               been pushing their way into prostitution,

                               looking for a cut of everyone’s action. Those

                               who don’t pay, their girls are getting hit with

                               bad dope. That’s what’s going on. That’s

                               who I’m trying to bring down. And I’m trying

                               to get close to these animals, but it’s difficult

                               when my informants keep getting spiked left

                               and right!

Gabby Dawson: Okay. All right. I get it, okay?

                            But I’ve never seen you like this before. You’re

                            starting to worry me a little bit. 

Antonio Dawson: [scoffs]

Gabby Dawson: You’re keeping secrets from your boss.

                             You’re asking me to lie to mine.

Antonio Dawson: It’s different being a cop than a paramedic,

                              Gabby. There’s a little more to it.

                                                 cutscene

Nancy Casey: I would have put on a pot of coffee if I’d known you

                        were coming.

                                          [cabinets closing]

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): If you knew I was coming, this

                                                         wouldn’t be an unannounced

                                                         visit.

Nancy Casey: Yeah, those… those are personal letters.

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): As long as you’re on parole,

                                                         nothing in here is personal.

Matt Casey: Yes, we understand, Officer.

                      Thank you.

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): Pretty straightforward, Nancy.

                                                         You’re to be in this house

                                                         from 9:00pm to 9:00am every

                                                         day. You’re not to consume

                                                         alcohol or illegal drugs. You

                                                         are not to associate with any

                                                         known criminals. And we

                                                         have an appointment on the

                                                         23rd in my office. It’s yours

                                                         to screw up.

Nancy Casey: Well, then you have nothing to worry about.

                                    [pen clicking]

                                    [phone rings]

Nancy Casey: Be a second.

                        Hey. Can I call you right back?

                        Okay.

Matt Casey: Rick?

Nancy Casey: Uh, no, I… I called that off.

Matt Casey: Why? He… he seemed nice.

Nancy Casey: He was too nice.

Matt Casey: So then who was that on the phone?

Nancy Casey: Uh, a friend.

Matt Casey: Another pen pal?

Nancy Casey: Wow, you make it sound so tawdry, but, yeah.

                         He was someone kind enough to visit me in

                         prison.

                                         [door shuts]

                                           cutscene

Kelly Severide: Morningside, huh? All right!

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah. Yeah, I’ve heard all the speeches, so you

                           know, thanks all the same, but you can save it.

Kelly Severide: What speeches?

Otis Zvonecek: “It’s a dead house.” “You’re throwing your career

                           away.” “All you’re gonna do is sell t-shirts.”

Kelly Severide: Oh, I don’t have any speeches. I made a hundred

                          bucks off this.

Otis Zvonecek: What? Wh… what do you mean?

Kelly Severide: Oh. When you first started, there was a little side

                           action on if you had what it took to make it at 51.

                           I took the under, so to speak.

Otis Zvonecek: Well, who else bet against me?

Kelly Severide: It’s a confidential pool.

Otis Zvonecek: Hmm.

Kelly Severide: Hey, you made it four years, man. I’ll give you that

                           much.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay. I get it. It’s like a reverse psychology ploy to

                           get me fired up and make me stay, right? 

                                        [money fluttering]

Otis Zvonecek: Son of a…

                                            cutscene

                                      [ambo door shuts]

Matt Casey: Hey. You got a minute?

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] 

Matt Casey: I, uh… was a little confused by your text last night.

Gabby Dawson: Text?

Matt Casey: Yeah. “You’re right, I think it’s time to meet your mom,

                      and I’m really looking forward to it.” If I’m not

                      mistaken, you met her.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, I sent that before

                             she got there. That’s so weird ‘cause I…

                             [clears throat] That was… that was for somebody

                             else. I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: Ah. 

                     That explains it. 

Christopher Herrmann: All right. Hey, can I have everybody in the 

                                        briefing room? Moment of your time?

                                        Thanks.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] 

Christopher Herrmann: As you can see from the prospectus, the

                                         offer on the table fluctuates based upon

                                         how many of us get on board with the

                                         actual offer. Now, it also entails that the

                                         owner be carrying the loan himself. 

Mouch: 70,000? He’ll never take it.

Christopher Herrmann: Guys, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

                                         If he turns us down, he turns us down.

                                         I’m just looking for the 7k in cash to get

                                         the 10% down.

                                         Who’s in?

Otis Zvonecek: I’m in.

Christopher Herrmann: Otis, buddy. All right, we’ll keep you

                                         apprised  while you’re over at

                                         Morningwood.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, no, no. I’m actually happy to announce to all

                           you people who bet that I wouldn’t make it

                           here… that I’ve withdrawn my transfer request.

Christopher Herrmann: Get out of here with that. No one was

                                         betting against you. 

Otis Zvonecek: What?

Christopher Herrmann: All right, look. Anyone else?

                                        Look, it’s a neighbourhood bar in

                                        Bucktown. We’re looking to bring in the

                                        new families that have moved in and

                                        have thus far been neglected. You’re

                                        gonna pass up a deal like this?

                                        Mouch?

Mouch: Too volatile.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, Mouch is out. He thinks the bar is

                                        built on a volcano.

                                                     [chuckles]

Christopher Herrmann: Anybody else? 

                                         I’m just looking for one more to put in

                                         2,300 and we’re whole. 

Gabby Dawson: I’m in.

Christopher Herrmann: Dawson. 

Gabby Dawson: I’m making an investment. I gotta make money to

                            pay for med school, so…

Leslie Shay: Are you crazy? 

Gabby Dawson: What? Plus it sounds like fun.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): So then just tell me what happened!

Kelly Severide: We’ve already been through this.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): You haven’t told me a damn thing!

Kelly Severide: How is this your business?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): How is this my business?

Kelly Severide: Yes! How is it your business?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): It wasn’t just Renee’s life you screwed up!

                                    It was our whole family!

Kelly Severide: Look! I moved on with my life, okay? 

                           Maybe you should too.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Tell me, how do you move on from seeing

                                     your sister’s car wrapped around a

                                     telephone pole, huh?

Kelly Severide: Come on.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Yeah. Yeah, yeah, your boy here, the great

                                     Kelly Severide, after he dumps my sister,

                                     she goes out drinking, ends up in a coma

                                     for three months.

                                     Where was Kelly? 

                                     Never heard from him.

Leslie Shay: Your sister hooked up with an ex-boyfriend before the

                      wedding.

Kelly Severide: Shay.

Leslie Shay: No, he needs to know this. Kelly found out about it,

                      so he called off the wedding. And he didn’t say

                      anything because your entire family was in the

                      hospital after Renee hit that pole. He didn’t wanna

                      dump more grief on you guys. So he took the hit.

                      That’s what happened, all right? So lay off.

Chief Boden: Shay. Hospital just called. 

                       Clarice’s water just broke.

Leslie Shay: Thanks.

Chief Boden: Anything else needs to be said beyond what’s already

                       been screamed or yelled?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): No, Chief.

Kelly Severide: Nope.

Chief Boden: You gonna make it another three shifts? Do I need to

                        find you a new home?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): I like to fulfil my obligations. So, yeah. I’d like

                                   to stay till I’m done.

Chief Boden: You got a problem with that, Kelly?

Kelly Severide: I don’t.

Chief Boden: Eric, I have been on vacation for the past few weeks,

                       so you probably haven’t got a chance to know how I

                       operate. I say things once.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Copy that.

Chief Boden: Both of you, back to work.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Part of my frustration, I guess, is that… I

                                    don’t  know where she is half the time.

                                    She doesn’t really talk to the family anymore.

                                                    cutscene

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Deal.

Gabby Dawson: Ah, that’s amazing.

Otis Zvonecek: Yes. 

Christopher Herrmann: Thank you so much.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): You guys saved my life. If you want

                                                   the place, it’s yours.

Christopher Herrmann: Wow. 

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Just got two favours.

Christopher Herrmann: Name it.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Don’t turn this place into some kind

                                                   of hipster joint that caters to all

                                                    these new arrivals.

Christopher Herrmann: Are you kidding me? Hell no.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Just keep the charm.

Otis Zvonecek: You have our word that we’re gonna bend over

                           backwards to try to accommodate that.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, you said you had a second favour?

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Oh, yeah. I promised someone else a

                                                   little taste, if you know what I mean.

                                                   Strictly off the books, depending on

                                                   what he brings to the table. But it’s

                                                   your call as to what size that piece

                                                   will be.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, we’re not… we’re not really looking for any

                            more partners.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Relax, sweetheart, he’s a silent

                                                   partner. 

                                                   Just take care of him.

Man 6: Sorry I’m late, Mr. Stephanidies.

Man 3 (Owner/ Stephanidies): No problem, Arthur. Come on in.

                                                    Arthur’s crew boarded the place up

                                                    after the fire. 

                                                    Free of charge. 

                                                    You’re gonna get along just great.

                                             cutscene

                         [sports announcer in background]

                                          [door shuts]

Matt Casey: Uh, what are you doing?

Nancy Casey: I’m going out.

Matt Casey: To do what?

Nancy Casey: Have dinner.

                                       [car horn beeps]

Matt Casey: With this pen pal guy?

Nancy Casey: Yes, indeedy.

Matt Casey: Your parole officer said you…

Nancy Casey: I’ll be back before my curfew. Don’t worry about it.

Matt Casey: I’m worried… about it, mom. You’re not even 24 hours

                     into being…

Nancy Casey: I’m not going out to sell crack!

                        I thought you invited me into your home so I could

                        live my life, but if your intention was to parent me

                        or… or… or somehow get back at me for what

                        happened, then you shouldn’t have bothered.

Matt Casey: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up! 

                      Nobody talks to me like that, all right? Especially in my

                      own house.

Nancy Casey: I’m going to have dinner, Matthew. 

                        I’ll be back before my curfew. I hope you have a

                        wonderful night.

                                              [door closes]

                                                  cutscene

                                                [line trilling]

                                                 [beeping]

Phone Operator: The number you have reached is no longer in

                              service.

Kelly Severide: [sniffs]

Leslie Shay: Hey. 

                      It’s a boy.

Kelly Severide: All right! 

Leslie Shay: [laughs] Come on.

                     Oh God, he’s healthy, beautiful, adorable cheeks.

                     He can’t wait to meet you.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Leslie Shay: Yeah

Kelly Severide: [laughs] 

Leslie Shay: Sorry about that back at the firehouse.

Kelly Severide: No, you’re not.

                                         [baby crying]

Clarice: Hey 

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Clarice: [giggles] 

Kelly Severide: That’s amazing.

Clarice: Daniel. 

              Do you want to hold him?

                                        [baby cries]

Daniel Shwartz: [shushes]

                                       [baby sounds]

Clarice: [exhales] I don’t know what your plans are, but, um…

              of course I’d love for you to be part of our lives as

              much as you can. 

Kelly Severide: Wow. Father of the year right there.

Man 7: Clarice Carthage and Leslie Shay? 

Leslie Shay: Yes.

Man 7: You’ve been served in the case of Daniel Schwartz versus

            Clarice Carthage. 

Kelly Severide: What is it?

Leslie Shay: Petition for full custody.

                     [sniffles]

                                      [phone vibrates]

                                       [kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: It’s okay.

Gabby Dawson: Oh my God. You’re not answering. I hope that’s

                            good news. Um, I’m in the parking lot. I’m sorry

                            I’m late. Be there in a sec. 

                            Hey, what are you doing here?

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Antonio, what’s wrong?

Antonio Dawson: The girl you brought in, the OD.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, Victoria. 

Antonio Dawson: She bolted. Nobody’s seen her for at least an

                               hour.

Gabby Dawson: All right, well, what’s… what’s up?

Antonio Dawson: The DOA was my informant for years, and I was

                               gonna start over with Victoria, and now she’s

                               gone.

Gabby Dawson: Antonio, you need some rest, okay. You’re barely

                            making any sense. Let me take you home. 

Antonio Dawson: I gotta go.

                                           [tires screech]

                                              [gunshots]

                                           [car peels out]

Gabby Dawson: Oh, God! 

                            Oh, God! Antonio!

                             Antonio!

                             [whimpers] Antonio! Oh God.

                             Oh God. Come on.

Antonio Dawson: [coughs]

Gabby Dawson: Come on! Oh God. 

                            [grunts]

                            Hold on, you hear me?

Antonio Dawson: [coughs]

Gabby Dawson: Hold on.

                            Somebody help!

                            Hold on. I got you.

                            I got you. You’re gonna be fine.

                            Help!

                            Somebody help me!

                                                   - end -

Definitions:

Dash roll = Is an emergency plan to free a lower limb entrapment so the casualty can be removed at any time during the main plan. The objective of a dash roll using a ram is to roll the dash toward the front of the vehicle and open space between the driver seat and the steering column.

OD = Overdose

ME = Medical Examiner

Fentanyl = It is an opioid used as a pain medication and together with other medications for anesthesia. It is also used as a recreational drug, often mixed with heroin or cocaine. It has a rapid onset and its effects generally last under two hours. Fentanyl is up to 100 times more potent than morphine and many times of that of heroin.

Naloxone = Is a medication used to block the effects of opioids. It is commonly used to counter decreased breathing in opioid overdose. Naloxone may also be combined with an opioid, to decrease the risk of opioid misuse.

Dope = Slang word for euphoria-producing drug, particularly cannabis, heroin & opium.

Vice = Police division whose focus is stopping public-order crimes like gambling, narcotics, prostitution, and illegal sales of alcohol.

Collars = taking an arrest of someone

Recon = To conduct a preliminary and especially an exploratory survey

Consortium = Is a group made up of two or more individuals, companies, or governments that work together to achieving a common objective. Entities that participate in a consortium pool resources but are otherwise only responsible for the obligation that are set out in the consortium’s agreement.

Hot shot = An assassination technique in which a person intentionally injects a person with enough drugs to kill them. They do so my targeting people who are already drug users or they give the unsuspecting victim a drug such as Carfentanil in place of heroin.

Agonal respiration = Medical term used to describe struggling to breathe or gasping. It is often a symptom of a severe medical emergency, such as a stroke or cardiac arrest. The gasping associated with agonal respiration is not true breathing, but rather a brainstem reflex.

Collapsed veins = Is a blown vein that has caved in, which means that blood can no longer flow freely through that vein. Blood flow will resume once the swelling goes down. In the meantime, that vein can’t be used. If the damage is severe enough, a collapsed vein can be permanent.

Sublingual = From the Latin for “under the tongue”, refers to the pharmacological route of administration by which substances diffuse into the blood through tissues under the tongue which is predominantly a mucous gland that produces a thick mucinous fluid and lubricates the oral cavity which allow for swallowing, initiating digestion, buffering pH, and dental hygiene.

Tawdry = Showing or having low moral standards

Apprised = Informed

[nileshollowthorn]

The Mortal Guard - Update 5: Unholy Flames

Creature Case: Unholy Flames

The vivid colors of fire have always been one of the most beautiful sights the eyes can lay upon. The white core, the glowing oranges and reds that dance in the reflection of the pupil, the way it enchants the mind and draws you in to watch the flames flicker. There was no doubt about it: Fire was mesmerizing.

But it’s also dangerous. It spreads quickly and turns anything in its path to dark ash and fills the lungs with toxic gray smoke that makes it hard to breathe.

Nick stood, transfixed on the sight before him. It took him several seconds to process the fact that the grey wolf that had originally been in front of him had erupted into flames from within her own body, throwing balls of fire about the house and setting everything ablaze, the ceiling already being lined with smoke and the alarms blaring in the hyena’s ears.

He knew that this particular mission was going to be dangerous. When Richard had come to him with the case file, he had a choice whether he wanted to take it on, knowing full well it could get him killed. Richard strongly advised against it, but Nick being Nick, he took it anyway, thinking he might be able to help the folks involved.

Unholy Flames are a nightmare to deal with. It is unknown how they are formed, but the common theory is that anger built up over time forms the strange occurrence within one’s body. The issue is that this doesn’t explain the strange behavior of the flames, which completely latch onto the entire family it’s involved with. It starts relatively tame, with the Firestarter (the original victim) having random bouts of aggressiveness. From then on, they get more and more angry at the littlest things and from there it spirals into yelling, then violence, and finally they erupt into the very flames burning inside them, immediately resulting in death. The flames aren’t physical until the eruption phase.

But even before the Firestarter is killed, the other members of the family become aggressive just like they had and in most cases, the family becomes extremely dysfunctional, to the point of not even being able to stay in the same room as one another. Another result is that the victims don’t separate and end up killing each other in their rage, not even reaching the final stage where the flames release.

There’s only one cure for the Unholy Flames, which is that the victims must be kept in a very cold environment until the flames are extinguished, as any magic spells just make the fire stronger. It’s usually recommended that the victim be sedated and under close watch, as even the littlest thing could set them off at this point.

Knowing this, Nick still said yes, even though it had nothing to do with saving Boris. At least, he assumed. Luckily, the fire only affects the family, so he wasn’t in danger of it spreading to him.

He and Richard were given the case file. A grey wolf couple concerned about the husband, Kyle, who had been showing strange signs of aggressiveness out of nowhere, even though he used to be one of the kindest animals.

When told he should get therapy, he blatantly refused and left for a few days and when he came back, the wife, Michella, said his fur was hot to the touch, and that his temperature was higher than even a fever should be, though he said he felt fine. She consulted the neighbor for advice, seeing as he was a doctor.

Luckily for the duo, the neighbor was part of the Mortal Guard’s Medical Sect, which means the operation was set in motion. He met with the husband and found strong signs of there being Unholy Flames within him.

Knowing that the memory erasing procedure came at the end of the whole debacle, the doctor, Dr. Stanford, explained to the wife that it was a sickness that made you more aggressive as it went on. She didn’t learn that her husband could end up erupting into flames.

Having dealt with Unholy Flames once before, Stanford knew that Kyle would not be taken in easily and because he was part of the Medical Sect, didn’t have the skills to fight him. The Creature Hunting Sect was contacted.

Nick and Richard arrived at the house. By this point, there was room to be reckless, considering the Mortal Guard would erase the family’s memories at the end.

When the door opened, Michella was considerably confused, wondering how a 19-year-old boy could help in such a situation. Even so, after some talking, she let them in.

Kyle was sitting in a recliner and immediately, he was angry about his wife inviting strangers into their house. This turned into an argument that grew in intensity as it went on. At one point, Kyle tried to get violent with Michella and Richard had to grab him.

Kyle didn’t like this one bit, so he fought back against Richard, but Nick reminded him of the sensitiveness of the situation. The wolf was a ticking time bomb. They needed to sedate him, and fast.

Unfortunately, Kyle slipped out of his grasp rather easily and escaped. Knowing that it would be way too dangerous to let him out in public where he could harm someone or multiple people, the couple chased him by car, all the way...to a forest.

One of the first things Nick had learned in his creature hunting courses was that you can’t save everyone. Unfortunately, that was the case here.

Kyle was just beyond help at this point. No matter what Nick or Richard said, it just went through one ear and out the other, and as Kyle’s yelling got louder and his boss more wrinkled in anger, it became more apparent to the creature hunters that his time was nearing end and they had to step back.

Suddenly, true to the first victim’s nomenclature of Firestarter, Kyle burst into an explosion of Unholy Flames, the grass around his feet alighting and one of the fireballs made from the burst hitting a tree.

The fire spread fast...unusually fast, and it was clear to the two that these weren’t like other flames. They ran from the blaze as quickly as they could, as burning oranges of the disaster flashed all around them.

Richard contacted the Disaster Sect once they got back to the car and, even though the two were instructed to go to the Trauma Sect, the raccoon worried that Michella might be dangerous. They had to go back.

The moment they arrived, the female wolf was upon them, asking what happened to her husband. Where was he? What did they do? What did they do to him?

Richard and Nick felt stuck. How could they tell her what happened softly? Her spouse had just blown up and died a fiery death. Knowing the details of the case...Michella was at risk of this too.

But she pressed the two males on and on with questions about Kyle, growing more angry at their lack of any response. Finally, Nick, as slow and calmly as he could, explained the situation.

Michella was understandably horrified, violently shaking her head and screaming that Nick was a liar, fleeing upstairs and claiming they killed her husband. The hyena followed her and confronted her in the hall, where she became even angrier, growling and swiping at him, becoming more desperate with each movement.

Nick stepped forward and she screamed and as she did so, her entire body erupted, just like her husband’s into flames.

Now, Nick was staring at the sight before him as the house was set ablaze. When Kyle had exploded, they were further away. Seeing it this close was just…

“Nick! Nick! Get out of there!” Richard called, snapping the young creature hunter out of his dazed stupor.

“Huh?” Nick shook his head as his flight mode engaged and he made his way quickly down the hall’s rug, finding it was loose too late and slipping, hitting the ground. “Agh!”

No, that’s good. He wanted to be close to the ground to avoid the smoke getting into his system. He crawled quickly toward the stairs as the roaring sound of the flames grew louder and louder, completely enveloping him in the nightmare that was occuring.

He made it to the stairs and was about to descend when he heard a familiar sound coming from a white door close to him. Was that…?

The hyena crawled forward, coughing as the temperature increased. He reached up and opened the door, his breath hitching as he gazed upon a crib, surrounded by a ring of flames. The wolf pup inside was crying out and squirming.

There was no time to even think. Nick stood on his feet, covering his nose with the crook of his arm as he ran forward through the flames, remembering that his pants and jacket were flame resistant.

Once inside the ring of fire, Nick rushed to the crib and reached inside, the baby wolf crying out even louder at this stranger touching him.

Nick wanted to tell the child that it would be okay and that he wasn’t going to hurt him, but he didn’t think there was any time to even talk. He needed go get out of there right away.

He ran back the way he came as the room fell apart, some of the floorboards falling in on themselves and a clack as they hit whatever was below.

Suddenly, the ring of fire began to spin around Nick and the pup, and his eyes widened in horror as he tried to figure out a way out of this. Out of nowhere, a fireball launched from the ring at him and he just barely dodged it, falling to the floor again with the baby clutched to his chest.

The ceiling was black with smoke and he was sweating profusely as his mind became clouded as well. This didn’t feel like it was happening. His body felt like it was moving on its own.

Another fireball. Nick quickly leapt forward as it hit the crib, destroying it in an instant. The baby continued to cry. There was so much happening...so much…

The sound of ambulances? Was he just hearing things?

Another fireball.

Dodge.

Another.

He tumbled to the ground.

Orange.

Hot.

Was he holding something?

He felt it.

Fireball.

Pain.

Screaming.

His own?

Burning…

What’s that smell?

Me.

The hyena somehow got to his feet, even though he didn’t realize it. He didn’t feel anything but heat. Was he still holding onto the baby? He didn’t know.

Nick moved forward (was he moving?) to the hole in the wall that had been created by a fireball, digging into his pocket and pulling out a small capsule, which he crushed in his hand and tossed out of the hole, lightly.

Ring of fire? Ring of fire? Ring fire?

Where did it go?

Was it still spinning?

Any more fireballs?

Any more anything?

Something in his arms.

Turn around.

Orange.

Destruction.

Black.

Devastation.

Weightlessness.

Falling?

———

Nick awoke on gurney, looking up at the smoky sky. There was shouting and screaming and he sat up.

“Nick!” A familiar voice called, and his head turned. A chubby calico cat stood there, relief on his face, two little horns between his ears.

The hyena blinked. “Eli...What’s going on?”

“You were burned badly. You fell out of a hole in the house, but your drop cushion saved you. Normal firefighters were called to the scene, but they couldn't put out the fire, so the Disaster Sect was contacted. We’re currently still battling the forest fire that happened earlier today. As for this one…” The incubus gestured.

Nick’s head turned and where the house of Kyle and Michella used to be, there were only charred remains of what once was. The family’s home was ruined. “...”

“I healed you up with magic which returned you to your normal state, but as you know, you’ll have to go to the Trauma Sect after this. Especially now.”

Nick just nodded, then gasped. “What happened to the wolf pup I tried to save?!”

“He’s okay,” a deeper voice stated from his other side. He turned his head and Richard was there, holding the child, who was no longer crying.

“Rich…”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“We failed, didn’t we?”

“Even if that may be the case,” Eli spoke up.“We’re still going to erase the memory of the folks around this area. Maybe get some new recruits. As for the burnt house...the disaster team is going to have to magically repair it. Dr. Stanford will make sure no one knows that anything ever happened here.”

Nick sighed. “I don’t understand what happened in there. I don’t remember anything after the wife erupted. All I can remember is how hot it was...It was like my mind was clouded with smoke.”

Richard thought for a moment. “I’m unsure, Nicholas. I was close to the front door at the time so I escaped rather quickly. Seeing you burnt and your fur singed like that was difficult, though. Thank goodness for healing magic.”

“Hm,” was all Nick responded with.

“Well! We have work to do,” Eli clapped his hand together. “You’ll be taken to the Trauma Sect shortly. Just wait a bit. I’m going to go help elsewhere. Bye, Nicky~” He wiggled his fat fingers as he turned and sauntered off.

The hyena sighed and turned to his partner. “Be honest with me.”

“Okay.”

“There wasn’t any way to succeed, was there?”

“...It’s hard to say. I think it was just too late in the game for us to save them.”

Nick looked down, thinking.

“But you did save their son.”

“Yeah...I guess so,” the hyena shrugged. Even though that was a good thing and he was happy to have done it, the thought of knowing the whole family was torn apart and that this baby would grow up an orphan tugged at his heart strings. Then, a realization hit him.

His head turned to see Richard tickling the baby and his giggles made the hyena’s ear twitch. Nick just stared, dread filling his soul as the baby continued to laugh.

[christylove94]

You’re Just Being You

Why is it always running when it comes to Elizabeth?

"We must destroy the vile beast! It's kidnapped a goddess!!" A man cries followed by hollers of agreement.

Meliodas snickers. Yeah, I'm the one who kidnapped her when she's leading me. He tugs on their connected hands, not slowing them down, but still catching her attention. The fear he sees on her face is a more striking revelation than if his father were to appear from thin air. And for a moment he's chilled to the core before his face twists into icy stone. "Let me take care of this, Elizabeth." His hand already slides towards the hilt of his sword.

"No!" It comes out reedy and shrill, electric blue runes flickering in her eyes before she whips her head forward.

He barely has a chance to suck in a breath before he's yanking her off course. Dirt fires off in all directions from where they'd just been. Desperate and resolute. That's how she'd sounded. Suddenly he's the one leading with voices drawing closer.  

Target practice will have to wait, he tells himself. The plains they're dashing through are much too open. The grasses a glossy green, blowing all possible cover to the wind. The air thins too quick, his breath catching high in his throat. He whirls on the balls of his feet, and draws Elizabeth in his arms. He springs backwards into the air, the ground imploding from the force. Elizabeth's screams are drowned out by the wall of flames roaring after their heels.

"Shit!" The word sears off his tongue. He catches a glimpse of men traveling on currents of wind, disks of flames, and bubbles of water before he adjusts his position. Straight forward like an arrow he cuts through the air with Elizabeth tight and secure lengthwise to his chest. Her heart thumps right up against his chest and her fingers nearly tear at the back of his shirt.

"This is my fault! I'm so s-sorry!"

"Don't be," he cuts off her small, quaking words with more bravado than he feels. "You keep life interesting," his grin is a little manic. His wing beats are powerful and swift enough to carry them over the plains to valleys then fields.  

A shriek in his ear and he tucks his wings in, twisting into a barrel roll. Razors scrape down his nerves for an instant. When he pulls up into an evasive maneuver he feels blood smear across his cheek. He's flying fast, his fastest in fact.

"Combined attack!"

But not fast enough. The realization plops like acid in his stomach.

He makes a split second decision by adjusting Elizabeth to his side in his right arm and whirling through the air to face whatever's coming head on.

"Meliodas, what are y--" her voice shrivels and dies.

It's a toxic bright purple mix of elements hurtling towards them. He knows death when he sees it and there's no mistaking that surge of power. There's no dodging it or outrunning it. His hand falls to the hilt of his sword. "It'll be fine," he manages to pluck free from his spiraling thoughts.

What was it Chandler said? I have a near boundless wealth of magic, I just haven't matured into it yet. But I can still do this if channel my power... He draws his sword as their demise grows bright.

Leave the channel open... He takes a cord of power and binds it around his sword. There's no outward change in its appearance. A bead of sweat goes down his nape.

Strike any magical attack. My power should do the rest... Sound becomes muffled and his vision seemingly sharpens. Despite everything it's not the vortex of power heading straight for them that he sees. Out of the corner of his eyes Elizabeth's face is crystal clear. Her lips are set in a firm grimace, nose scrunched up and eyes shining bright runes. Desperate but determined.

Meliodas takes his swing. "Full Counter!"

A chime cuts through the air. His power sinks low, lower and lower... Something twinkles silvery blue just past his face. Then the attack is rocketing away, he and Elizabeth tumbling backwards from the sheer backlash.

His wings strike outwards, swelling in size as his magic seems to bounce back. And he takes advantage, diving towards a massive stretch of trees as the dying cries of Holy Knights fade behind them. He can feel his nerves bouncing in a mix of pride and relief. The trees swallow them up. That feeling stiffens into dry ice through his veins.

Feet set on the rich earth, Elizabeth wraps her arms around his shoulders oblivious to the change. "You could've died!" Her voice sounds squeezed like the words are too profound to be uttered. "All because I went looking to see if my power was that of love! How could I be so selfish?" She clutches him tighter, her shoulders beginning to shake.

His gaze sweeps carefully over the lush scenery behind her as dark tendrils heal the wound on his cheek. "Don't worry about it. You keep life exciting," he says evenly, hand tightening around his sword.

"But--"

"Why do you children trespass in the Fairy King's Forest?" A voice of impassive ice speaks from behind him.

He breaks Elizabeth's hold, his arm extending across her as he faces the new being. He'd expected many things, but not the scrap of a woman no taller than himself. Her peculiar attire falling across one eye, bulbous where her legs should be, and the wooden sceptre hardly intimidate. It's more the look in her eyes, dead and frigid that causes him to shift his stance an infinitesimal amount. This is a fairy of the sentient forest.

"We apologize!" Elizabeth bursts out and begins to press against his unmoving arm. When he doesn't yield she ducks beneath it causing his muscles to lock up. "We were just--!"

"Killing humans?" The fairy interrupts coolly. Eyes glancing off Elizabeth than back to him.

Elizabeth goes rigid, then steps back against his side.

"While I am wholly behind that idea," the fairy begins with a gradual lift of her sceptre. "I loath demons even more, and unlike her, your heart is as black as ever." Trees groan and vines begin to sprout in earnest, hundreds of spears pointing at him at once. "I cannot let you grow up to become more of a threat than you already are."

He shoves Elizabeth back barely hearing her yelp over his rushing blood. "Get out of here, now!" He grips his sword eyeing the fairy then the vines. If I kill her would they still continue to act on their own? He doesn't get to decide as they begin to steak towards him in a blur.  

They all stop before his blade even makes contact, all caught up in silvery blue. His breath is snatched somewhere in his throat. He can't look away from the dazzling display of magic that throws the forest into shades of white and blue.

"Why are you so cruel?" Elizabeth sniffles from somewhere behind.

The pretty stillness abruptly explodes. Ash rains from the sky as the silvery light fades. More vines sprout before he has time to blink, to even think. Deadly blurs hone in and the forest lights up again and again. He takes a risk, looking at Elizabeth. Her eyes are blue fire, terror and anguish beginning to rip through her intent features. A pulse of black flames sweeps over his sword. He’s turned to face the fairy when the tip of her sceptre explodes.

Silence rains as the fairy draws back. Her gaze locks solely on Elizabeth, thick with contemplation.

His head tilts up a smidge as the sensation of darkness running down his cheek like ink persists. “If you even think about hurting her, I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

His promise is ignored as the fairy continues to stare. However, she visibly concedes, lowering what remains of her sceptre. "I see. You may both leave. But if you ever return, you will be dealt with appropriately."

He doesn't hesitate. His sword is sheathed as he dashes towards Elizabeth, sweeping her up as he kicks off into the air. Her body is warm and light as usual. No new sense of power within her. She looks the same as ever. Silver hair, blue eyes, and soft features. Everything on the outside feels the same, but his insides twist uncomfortably tight.

Now that's different.

~-~-~

He only stops when they come to a familiar waterfall. They don't head inside, choosing to settle in the grass surrounding it. She hasn't said a word since the Forest. His insides squeeze until he can't breathe. A ridiculous response that he ignores with sharp words to her winged back."That power. You've been hiding it all along?"

"No!" She whirls towards him and he can see the truth in the rounding of her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her as if they're the most vile things in the world. "Every goddess can do that. Ark," she forces it out with cutting vehemence and it's the most anger he's seen in her. "It's a violent and hateful power and I... I had to... I c-couldn't let..."

That unpleasant tangle of knots and barbs recedes as he goes to cover her palms with his own. Her watery eyes meet his and he hates that he knows what disturbs her so deeply.

He hates that he knows what bothered himself.

"Did you kill them or was it my attack?" His tone is neutral, his voice sounding low.

A tear streaks down her cheek. "I don't know." It's thick and devastated.

He curls her fingers against her palms and wraps her fists up with his own. "You won't have to use that power again, Elizabeth."  

She peers up at him almost hopeful. "How do you know?"

"You stick with me and I'll handle the fighting. It's what I'm good for." He almost believes it, almost lets her believe it too until another option forms in his head. He's rigid against it at first. Demons are selfish. Demons take, they destroy. The words drill through his skull.

And yet his body moves opposite, taking his hands away from hers. "Or maybe you should forget about me." He's a spectator in his own body. "My heart is black. I bring danger. Everything happens because I'm me."

An array of expressions flash over her face before a crinkled smile of disbelief wins out. "That's not true, Meliodas. You're heart's not black! You... You let me cover you in flowers. You trusted me to take you under the ocean. You let me read to you and you listened!" Her words leak forth with unstoppable force, dousing any worry he has left. "You listen to me, you talk to me, and don't... You don't hate me." She throws her arms around him, hiding her face in his shoulder before he can see if she believes that through her eyes. "You saved me."

Slowly he brings his arms around her in an embrace and she lets go completely, leaning into him as she weeps. A wry grin comes to his lips as her tears wet his neck.  "What did I say about tears, hmm?"

Her voice is scratchy as she tightens her grip. "Sorry..."

"Don't be," he tells her, pulling her to the ground where he keeps her at his side. "You're just being you."

And that's something he plans to keep the exact same.

[random-drunk]

Amphisbaena.

old novahd monster

A NovaHD monster I was trying to go back to, finally did and made MAJOR adjustments. They used to be attached to each other’s sides and was just a really humanized monster.(I have a friend that is big on conjoined/fused characters, told me the new monster is in the Queen/King formation :0 fancy!)But it still starts at a science facility with the same goal. However, the story is drastically different, I’m trying to make a video, but it might just turn into a comic later. Not sure if I’ll do anything at the end. Just in case I don’t, I’ll write out the story below. It’s long! I’m sorry for any grammatical errors. This is part of a bigger story, I just like to put a twist on characters, my OCs, popular fictional characters (that I also like), and irl people.

Quick note: You can draw the old or new design, but tag me so I can see it! I LOVE SEEING ART!!!

Somewhere in the US rests a science facility named, “Vita Brevis.” Out to make a human’s lifespan longer so we discover more and no relying on offspring to take on our studies. Out for this goal, even if it’s taking so far 50 years.

Tried advanced medicine that either resulting in the subject’s downward spiral of insanity or suicide. Tried diets and life routines that proved to be far from useful. Tried to fuse animals with humans, some died within months and others were a few years. They tried everything they had on their minds, but not fusing two people together.

Some scientists found it a silly idea, other found it borderline retarded. Two lives fused together doesn’t equal to a twice long lifespan, one would repeatedly state. To those that doubted, had no chance against the willing and desperate. So the project went underway.

Two young men were picked for the project.

James Wilson was in jail for a hit and run murder, ending serval lives and injuring a few more. The hit and run seemed to be done on purpose, the people involved seemed to have no relations with James prior the accident. Motives are still unclear.

Aleks Merchant was caught smuggling drugs overseas. He denied it all and said he was set up. All fingers were pointed at him and nothing to back him up. He was tested for using drugs, was under the influence of crack. He came alone but says someone was there, they just missed them. Either they did escape or he’s hallucinating, He was of course put in jail either way.

Vita Brevis contacted the prison and requested a certain amount of prisoners, regardless what they were in for. So Aleks and James were picked for the group, how unlucky.

Once in operation, Aleks and James saw each other, was told to say hi and then count backward from ten. Said small greetings and started to count after getting air masks, getting tired past five. The sleep was like heaven. Felt like nothing was there and just a release of pain and worry. They wished this is what death felt like. They had to wake up to something worse than death.

They woke up in bed, couldn’t feel their legs. They looked down, which happened to look at each other. Sewn together by the waist, stitches still visible. They screaming loud and bloody. Their hands took action before they could think, ripping the stitches and feeling each other’s warm blood cuddle their skin. Organs falling as the blood was seeping out more. A doctor heard their screams and came in just in time to save their lives. 

Worse than death.

When stitched back up, they were put to sleep for a longer time to heal. The two skins forming as one. Now stuck forever.

When awake, they were feed and bathe in warm water. They took small pleasures of watching TV and browsing the internet, of course fighting here and there.

In a few months, Aleks and James had trouble eating. Aleks would regurgitate the food and James would choke on food like if it was powdered cinnamon. James was given wet foods and was fine, but Aleks just kept puking it make up, more painful each time. Feed through a tube, it got down for a moment before it was shot back up through the tube. The force surprised scientists but didn’t at all classify as a breakthrough of anything. So they stop providing food for Aleks, but James seemed to have a bigger appetite since after Aleks’ cut off. So they did and it was much better.

However, one night, the boys were visited by a big shadow of fabric and bones, looking cold. A smaller and more flesh filled figure stepped forward. He spoke, “I see Poppy is still trying to push the monster agenda after my visit. It’s almost flattering... It’s my job, however.” He stepped closer and caressed Aleks’ face. “Don’t worry, Simon is here, I’m here... And you will do everything I say.” He leaned in and whispered into Aleks’ ear, then repeating the same words to James. He stood up and chuckled to show his joy. “Make me proud, Amphis.” The tall figure swung his wings and disappeared with the smaller figure, Simon.

Doing with what they’re told, when the nurses and doctors came in at breakfast with the food, Aleks quickly spit into the bowl of oatmeal. Everyone gasped and was grossed out, but saw the spit was a little orange and gave out a sizzle. James reached for the bowl, begging. The doctors hesitated but gave the bowl. James ate it, surprisingly no gaging and no gross facial expressions, he even seemed surprised. 

After some months, the scientists finally gave hard and dry foods, the two boys able to eat them all. They then started to do physical exercises like pushups, handstands, neutral “standing” form, pull-ups, so forth. They only got stronger from that point, but a lot of things started to happen. Aleks’ teeth were falling out and his tongue was sticking out more, after farther expectation, his tongue grew and only got bigger. James’ teeth got far sharper and seemed to get a few more extra teeth in the back. Their pupils got bigger and as time went on, the pupils covered their entire eyes, making them unable to come out under light. Aleks’ spit/vomit was now bright orange and is extremely toxic, but harmless to themselves. The scientists had to learn the hard way that the acidic saliva was still on the skin of the subjects, making them protected from harm. Their ears got more of a point, but that was the least threatening thing on the list.

Things did take a turn.

One exercise had basketball as the activity. James was on top and catching the ball and tossing it into the hoop. Repeating this a few more times before the boys switch. James leaned back to have his hands meet with the ground, flipping Aleks up. They turn around and meet eyes with the doctor. Aleks caught the ball and tossed it through the hoop, nothing new. When he was on his last toss, the boys staggered over to the hoop, a little uneasy. Aleks quickly grabs hold to the basketball hoop’s net to catch his breath and James to get his strength back. The doctor patiently waited. James picked them up again and Aleks seemed less dizzy judged by his expression. He didn’t let go of the net though and just stared into space.

The doctor spoke, “Hello? Are you alright..? Better come down so you can rest.”

Aleks didn’t move. Aleks did start to cough, having sharp bubbling sounds form in his throat. The doctor tried to talk Aleks to coming back down. Aleks still hasn’t moved. The doctored tried but sighed and pulled out a taser gun, firming and loudly speaking from this point.

“Get down.”

James’ eyes darted to the gun and got his lungs and heart doing overtime. Aleks felt his heart and lungs fasten and spotted the threat. His lungs and heart copied the same speed as James, if not, faster.

“Get down, or else.”

Screaming and alarms went off. Quick loud, “help me!’ filled the room. Outside doctors peered in and saw the scene. The doctor was hushed by Aleks’ overgrown tongue being forced down his throat, stretching his neck beyond the limit until life escaped from his body with a few painful cracks. The scientists kept watching, seeing Aleks then regurgitating into his mouth and throat, disgusting him from the inside out. James then stepped in and started to pick flesh out and eating him, tasting better than the food they served. Almost tasting like heaven. 

“We must stop this! This is getting out of hand!” One scientist shouted.

“No! We can fix this! Keep them alive!” Another shouted.

“Dr. Grise!” The first one shouted at the second one. “We were meant to expand our lifespan, not destroy it with whatever this is!” The turned back to the monster and found the dead doctor already half eaten. “Enough!” The doctor slammed a button, but nothing happened.

A small chuckle filled the building. Something pulled back like wings and revealed the small figure named Simon. Smaller than a human, one big singular eye, green iris. He seemed happy. 

“Thank you for the apology gift, Poppy,” Simon said as his tall figure friend lowered his wing so Aleks and James can climb on. Simon’s eyes got thin, either smirking or angry. “You’re still a bitch, though.” They all disappeared, leaving the half-eaten and acid burned doctor all alone to be cleaned up. 

Worse than death.

[quess-writes]

Can I ask some angst with babies? Like, Tsuna, Xanxus, Enma an Giotto losing their S/O because the birth was too much for them and before they could react bad to the baby, the doctors told them it was S/O's decision to choose they babies over they own life ♡(also, some twins? I love sibling love ♡) (sorry my english sucks xD)

//Your English is fine, don’t worry! Also I only take 3 characters per ask//

//The scenario takes place after the initial denial and questioning of your death//

Enma

When he hears of your passing, he nearly breaks down in the hospital right then and there. This was supposed to be a happy day, the day of your babies were supposed to be introduced into the world. The day he finally has a family to call his own, not by loyalty, but by blood.

(But this agony, this- this... thing rotting in his core.)

He's screaming, crying, lashing out towards anyone near him - even his own family. It costs Adel her right eye to snap Enma out of his fit of rage. When he does, he's just...quiet. He's not moving, he's not blinking, he's barely even breathing - one may think he was dead. Not only did he lose you and the children, he also hurt his family because he couldn't keep his damn emotions in check.

Is this a testament to his life? Was this some divine intervention from heaven because he's nothing but a filthy murderer?

It's only when the doctors bring the crying newborns Enma started to breathe again. He looks at them in desperation, cradling them carefully in his arms - a blanket between them so they don't get infected. He's holding them so lovingly yet so desperately. No one dares to go near Enma in his ambivalent state, even the Shimon stay a couple feet away, creating a small circle around him.

They do this for two reasons: one is to create a sense of community and safety in this little make-shift haven to protect Enma and the twins. You didn’t sacrifice your live to see Enma like this, he knows this, they know this. Everyone in the Shimon misses you - the day they accepted you was the day you became family to them. So they’ll do anything to protect your children. The other reason is to prevent Enma from spiraling into madness without Adel here to help them. Everything’s gone to shit and the last thing they need is for Enma to fall deeper into depression.

Meanwhile, all Enma can think about is how brave you were, how amazing you must've been to sacrifice your life - how strong you must've been to endure the fear of death all alone.

First he lost his parents, then his little sister, then you, his beloved wife.Even hell can't take his children away now.

At home, Enma is depressed and damn near suicidal with the amount of hours he works without breaks or nourishment. Thankfully, the Shimon reminds Enma to eat, even giving him days off to spend some time with the kids for paternal and therapeutic purposes. Parenting the twins won't be hard for Enma considering his small circle, but may be somewhat suffocating for the children. They can't be away from him for any longer than half an hour without confirming that they're still alive.

Enma has a permanent hole in his chest, hollow and cold, but gets a little better with age.

Xanxus

When Xanxus hears the of your passing, it takes the entire Varia and all the Vongola guardians (Squalo had requested back-up) to restrain him. His wrath knows no bounds, scars spreading so fast his entire body looks like an aged burn. He’s going for the doctors, the nurses, the building, the association. He doesn’t care and he’ll rain bullets down on anyone who gets in his way.

After Squalo manages to calm him down (with the help of Tsuna) the unscathed doctors bring him his children, twins, the last living fragments of your existence on earth. He nearly shoots the doctor holding him out of parental instinct after the doctor refuses to let him hold his children.

“Get the fuck off me, you pile of shit! They’re MY kids!”

“Voi! You can’t hold them yet you fucking idiot! Do you want to kill them with your germs!?”

He freezes, calming down just enough to listen. His index finger is still on the trigger, knees bouncing and wrathful vengeance seeping out of him in waves. His breath is heavy like a lion waiting for it’s prey to finish pancing before pouncing on it.

The doctors explain what occurred during childbirth: the stress, your medical condition, and your final choice.

Xanxus keeps his children no questions asked. He was going to raise them regardless because all this? This loss? Your loss? His loss? The children’s loss? It hits too close to home. It’ll be a cold day in hell when he denies them.

He only allows his children to be out of his sight when Squalo’s around. Because no matter what, he won’t let his children see him, remember him in a fit of rage, guilt, and depression. Because he remembers too well of his mother during those colder times - how frightened he was, curled up into a ball and covering his head, hearing her scream and throw the little furniture they had out the window through the thin walls of the slums.

He won’t put that kind of pressure on his kids.

But he needs the release.

For the next few years, Xanxus is a neurotic bomb ticking. The twins are never to step one foot out of his territory and anyone who so much as looks at them will be “dealt with” on the spot. Physical training for the twins are borderline abusive but Xanxus wants to make sure the kids are strong enough to take on world. He can’t afford to lose another person he loves.

It’s not until the twin’s early adolescence when he finally snaps out of his deadbeat ass and gets his shit together. He sees the twins who cower before him - not respect or even follow - cower. Obey. It’s when they apologize for getting a single, minuscule scratch from a stealth course that he realizes he haven’t been parenting, he’s been ordering. He could see the pressure of failure weighing their body, trying to wipe away the tears in fear of their father’s wrath.

Just how long have they been holding it in? Just how long was it since he saw them cry? When they were children? No, it was further back. It was when they were infants. And for how long have they been frightened by him? Years? A decade? More? Everything he did, everything he tried to protect boiled down to this?

You wouldn’t have wanted this. He doesn’t want this either. He never noticed just how toxic he was until that moment. No, perhaps he knew but he was just a bitch quailing in fear and the heartbreak of your passing. But that’s no excuse to treat your own blood like trash.

Realization comes in waves until he just breaks.

The twins will instantly be alarmed, afraid of what could be an enemy attack. But before they can bark any orders, Xanxus, wraps his arms around them - silent and still.

It was at this moment, for the first time, the twins saw that their father could cry.

Giotto

Out of the thousands of people in this side of Italy, why did death come after you? You, who did nothing wrong, who committed no acts of treason, who have never even killed a man in cold blood.

Giotto falls silent, the only thing he has left being his tears. He isn’t screaming damnation to God nor is he lashing out to his friends and family.

This was the first time the Vongola guardians saw him cry like dying man trying to absolve himself of his sins. This was the third time G saw his friend like this. The first time was when they were younger and saw a aristocratic man dismembering a prostitute. The second was during a raid gone wrong where half the Vongola guardians were critically injured. And the third? Was when you died giving birth.

Maternal death.

Deep down, Giotto knows this is somehow his fault. His fault he didn’t treat you better. His fault that he fell in love with you. His fault that he couldn’t protect you.

G has to violently shake him to snap him out of his trance, telling him that there’s hope. Before you passed, you sacrificed your life for the babies - twins the doctor told him.

At first, he’s hesitant. Would he bring death on them as well? After a deep breath, he cradles his children with the tenderness of Saint Mary and the fear of sinner. His heart is torn in two: overjoyed that his children survived, that your sacrifice didn’t go unrewarded. Yet, at the same time, guilty and despondent. The moment he thought he would share with you in gaiety, he holds them alone thanking the lord that, at the very least, they lived.

“Isn’t it not humorous, G?” he says tears dripping over his reddened cheeks.

“What is Giotto?” he replies with melancholy.

“That, man has so much power yet they can never use their strength for the women they devoted their lives to. That the efforts of mankind cannot pass God’s judgement?”

“Giotto...“

There’s a long pause before Giotto speaks again.

“I loved her G,” he says with a hurt, forlorn gaze, “I still do.”

G lights a cigarette, sitting down next to him. “I know.”

“...I love her so much G. If I only took care of her better then perhaps the children in arms would not be motherless. Like I was... like how we were.”

“...I know.”

It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone that you passed away during childbirth. Lately, many women have been dying from it as well. And from an outside perspective, it was only meant to be being the wife of a don. Death was commonplace in the mafia and anyone who dipped their toes into the underworld knew to lock their emotions and throw the key.

Yet a grey cloud hung over the manor. Giotto loved you and by extension his family as well. Your legacy still remained. Your two babies survived, lived, and grew up. Giotto was never the same man but he did his best to raise them right, to protect each other and whoever they would give their lives to.

The only thing Giotto would’ve wished to do before his deathbed was to properly mourn for you instead of his pitiful cries at night when the children were asleep. Unfortunately, the underworld waited for no one. He had to move in an endless, torturous run for his remaining family. He lost you somewhere far along the road.

There was no turning back now.

[legends-of-direbear]

Dead Man’s Switch || JD/Veronica: Heathers: The Musical AU

Genre: Heathers: The Musical (AU from Shine A Light)

Summary:  When Veronica McNamara is driven to commit suicide, Veronica’s determination to save her drives JD to make a promise to keep Veronica safe.  Even from himself.  Apparently Sherman is making a change.

Part 2

Note: this is not intended to glamorize toxic relationships.  If you find yourself in a relationship where you are the only thing keeping someone from harming themselves or others, please get help, because that’s not healthy or right.  

Triggers: attempted suicide, murder, bullying

Three shoe stores and a trip to the food court later, Veronica and JD were sucking down slushies while Heather happily chatted up a random guy that had bought her a pretzel from the Orange Julius.

“That was really nice; what you said to Heather,” Veronica told him sincerely.

“Well; I promised,” JD reminded her.  “And…I promised.  I’m not saying I don’t still want to slit Heather Duke’s wrists with her copy of Moby Dick, but—I would never hurt you Veronica.  I would do anything for you.”

Veronica watched him steadily.  “Thank you.” It was a heavy thing, loving JD. He felt things so intensely, and things were so skewed in his mind.  Veronica felt like even if she didn’t care about him, she would still need to be his caretaker; like even though he knew he wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t cope with right and wrong on his own. Not that she wanted to leave him, but the responsibility was still a lot for her.  “Hey Heather,” she called over to the golden-bedecked girl just rejoining them with a sunny smile on her face.  “Why don’t we head back to my place?”

Which was how they ended up at the Sawyers, with Veronica and Heather playing croquet while JD read and occasionally commented from the patio.

“You sure you don’t want to play JD?” Veronica smirked as Heather called up to her boyfriend, apparently getting more acclimated to using his real name instead of the nicknames Heather Chandler had been dolling out before her death.

“Thanks, but uh, croquet’s not really my thing.”  JD lifted his book up with a crooked smile, as if to illustrate his point.  

“Aw come on JD—get your nose out of there and spend some time with us,” Veronica flirted lightly, flashing him a playful smile.  One that apparently the boy couldn’t resist, because he rolled his eyes and let the book fall shut between his hands as he moved to join them.

“Here,” Heather offered, handing him the orange mallet and matching ball.  “You’re up.”

“Uh, thanks Heather,” he replied, glancing over at his girlfriend uncertainly before lining his stick up with the ball.  He tapped it lightly, rolling along the grass in a shy way that seemed to Veronica very unlike him—JD always seemed to be very full-throttle, and yet the ball rolled almost delicately toward the wicket a few feet away.  

Veronica stepped up and took her shot, the blue ball clacking against JD’s pointedly.  The boy’s eyebrow quirked at her.  

“Are you going to take the two, or send him out Veronica?” Heather asked inquisitively.  Veronica paused a moment, before kicking her ball lightly in a better position to go through the hoop.

“Really?” JD questioned. “Come on; I can take it.”

“Not my style,” she replied easily.

“Just because I’m your boyfriend doesn’t mean you should go easy on me,” he told her challengingly. Veronica considered him again.  “I can take it,” he insisted, and she wondered if he meant more than just the game.  However, she did redirect her ball, lining blue up with orange and letting her mallet send his across the field toward the steps with Heather giggling in amusement.

It was cut off abruptly when a red Mary Jane stepped down from the stairs next to the balls with a smug look on her face.  

“So here you are,” Heather Duke observed, glancing at the trio critically, before focusing her gaze on Veronica and Heather McNamara. “I didn’t see you during last period.”

“We were avoiding you,” Veronica deadpanned, turning back to the blonde.  “It’s your turn Heather.”

“Sure Veronica,” the meek girl responded, turning her focus intently onto the ball at her feet.

“Whatever,” the new head bitch remarked, eyes narrowing into distaste.  “I don’t need to be here to watch you both spiral into freaks and geeks loserdom anyways.  I just need your signatures on this petition.”

“What petition?” Veronica asked suspiciously, watching as Heather Duke shoved the clipboard and pen into Heather McNamara’s hands.  The brunette also noted that JD’s knuckles were white as he gripped his mallet tightly beneath his fingers.  

“We want to dedicate the yearbook to Heather and Kurt and Ram,” she explained, lifting her nails to her eyesight for inspection.  “Change around the whole format, but Mr. Anderson says we don’t have the budget—that only have space for four pages of pictures and shit.”

“Pictures no doubt featuring you with the dead,” Veronica remarked snidely.

“Oh yeah,” Heather McNamara commented, her eyes apparently lighting in understanding, and then bowing back down as she mumbled “Sorry Heather” to Heather Duke’s reflexive “Shut up Heather!”

“So if I get the whole school to sign, they’ll have to change their mind,” the red-clad senior continued as though she had remained uninterrupted throughout.  Heather’s dark eyes pulled back up accusingly.  “I mean, you do want Heather and Duke and Ram to be properly memorialized, don’t you Veronica?  After all, they died because of people like you.”

A short laugh interrupted them, and all three heads turned to see JD covering his mouth, a massively amused grin radiating from behind it.  

“I’m not signing a petition to give you a chance to use their deaths to get your picture in the four extra pages of the yearbook, Heather,” Veronica uttered, pulling the other girl’s attention back to her as she took the clipboard and thrust it back into Heather’s hands.  “Go find someone else to dupe.”

“I don’t understand why you’re pulling my dick, Veronica,” Heather sneered, echoing Heather Chandler’s normal malice.   “I’m running this school now, and you’d better watch your step.”  A cruel smile played on her lips as she looked to the blonde across from her. “See you later Heather.”

Veronica watched Heather leave, eyes glaring daggers long after she’d gone.  Heather McNamara’s tiny cough pulled her attention back to the group.  “I should probably go too, Veronica,” she admitted, propping her mallet against the table.  “Thanks again.”

“Anytime Heather,” Veronica assured her.  “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”  It was obvious that tomorrow was still weighing heavily on the blonde girl’s mind.  But her lips curved upward very slightly as she brought her blue gaze back up to the two seniors watching her.  “See you later JD,” she added shyly to the stoic boy, who brought a semi-clenched hand up in response, before disappearing by the same path as the Heather before.

Veronica watched her go, then quickly turned back to her boyfriend.  He was tensed, eyes shut and gripping his mallet so tightly that Veronica was surprised he hadn’t splintered it.  “Careful,” she said gently as she approached him.  “You’ll break that thing if your grip gets any tighter.”

“Fucking Heather Duke,” he griped.  “She’s worse than Heather Chandler, you know that?  And that stupid petition?”