Fun fact, Bakugou mer and Tomura mer are the only "true" mer, while the rest are "false" mer, meaning they are mer-like beings but not actually related taxonomically. True mer are related to humans.
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2,318 words || AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Childhood Trauma, References to the Lab, Canon Typical Violence, You tell Vogelbaum to fuck off ||
This is an AU so it doesn't fit in with the fics linked below but as this is Tawny, I thought best to link them.
Previous Tawny fics: When You Loved Me, Home Is Where His Heart Is, They Took My Sunshine Away, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, The First Christmas & Happy Birthday Mr America
A/N: The general consensus for Tawny is that they are a woman but I will continue to write them as gender neutral. Tawny is used to mean parent (mom/dad). John is around 8 years old.
This is half beta'd so we are dying like semi kings.
You knew they were coming.
It was only a matter of time before the wolves gathered at the door in search of the white rabbit you stole, jaws open and ready to maul, anything to get him back. But you're not scared, you knew they were coming and you're ready for them, all thanks to a blue liquid that comes in a little glass vial.
The knock on the door is familiar, you know exactly who it is without peaking out of a window and John is on his feet immediately, looking at you with pure panic in his eyes. You usher him upstairs and into your bedroom, opening the closet door.
"Just hide in here John, everything will be okay."
He nods, getting in between some old boxes and sitting down, hugging his knees to his chest while he does his best not to cry.
"It'll all be okay John," you reaffirm tenderly. "Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."
Mentally you prepare yourself for what comes next, walking down the stairs and straight to the door, only to be surprised to open it and find Jonah Vogelbaum standing there.
And just Vogelbaum.
"May I come in?"
You want to tell him to fuck off and slam the door in his face, you also want to beat the ever living fuck outta him but you resist, knowing that this is one conversation you need to have. So you invite him inside, leading him to the kitchen where you gesture for him to take a seat at the table.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" You ask as you stand in front of the coffee machine, starting it up to make one for yourself.
"No, I'm fine thank you," he replies. "Marty has recovered by the way, I thought you'd like to know."
With your coffee made exactly how you like it, you take a seat opposite Vogelbaum, your expression pensive. "I didn't ask and I don't care, he should be lucky that I had so much restraint. But that's not important. I would ask why you're here but I already know. The real question is why have you come alone."
"Because I'm giving you the chance to give the subject up peacefully," Vogelbaum explains in that unmistakably condescending tone. "He is a valuable Vought asset."
"His name is John," you reply sternly. "And he is a child."
"There will be no repercussions, you'll be free to live your life, provided you keep all your knowledge about the subject and the project to yourself."
"His name is John," you repeat. "And he is a child."
"He's nothing more than a weapon, a means of destruction."
"His name is John," you're shaking now, desperately trying to keep your voice down. "And he is a child."
"You have no idea what you're dealing with. One day he'll go off on you and you won't be able to stand it, the world won't. So just give the subject up now before more people get hurt."
The mug crack beneath your palms, the pressure finally too much for the ceramic and the hot coffee slowly seeps out, crawling across the table to Vogelbaum. It's reminds you of a scientist that John killed, lying on the ground in a pool of blood with a trail edging toward him as he curled up under the bed scared.
"His name is John and he is a child. But none of you can ever see that because to you, he's just an experiment, a project, a thing that you can prod and poke. You call him a weapon because that's what he is to you, but not to me. All I see when I look at John is a boy who needs to grow up in a loving home, not some cold lab."
"I knew I should have removed you from the project," he replies with disappointment. "All the signs were there that you were letting your emotions get in the way and forming an attachment to the subject but I decided against it because, naturally, everyone forms an attachment at first but then they remember why they were here, what the purpose is. And your credentials meant that you would prove essential to keeping the subject in check."
"And I do," you say bluntly. "By letting have a normal life."
"A normal life?" He questions sarcastically. "You think he'd adjust to a normal life? The subject has been raised in a lab since he was born, it's all he knows, all he'll ever know, One day, this normal life of his will prove to be too much and he'll beg you to bring him back to the lab. When you do, we'll turn both of you away. Then you'll be forced to watch him descend into madness and the destruction that follows will be all your fault."
"He'll never beg to go back. Now I think you've well overstayed your welcome. I'd like you to leave."
He huffs when he stands. "I did my best to convince you to give him up willingly but you have left me no choice. They will come to get him."
"I bet they will," the chair scrapes along the floor when you stand. "And I'll be ready. You should do a better job of securing those little vials. Anyone could just take one."
For a millisecond, his eyes widen and you seen a glimpse of something - not quite fear but close to it. "So you did take an unauthorised dose."
"I did," you say nonchalantly, a smug smile on your lips that quickly turns to a sneer. "So do the swat team a mercy, tell them to say goodbye to their families, because they won't leave here alive."
You walk Vogelbaum to the door and keep it open enough to watch him leave. It takes a lot of restraint not to slam it shut because you know you'd rip it off the hinges and there's more important things to think about than rehanging a door.
"Am I going back?"
John is standing at the stop of the stairs when you turn around, gripping onto his bear so tightly that you can almost hear the stretches groaning, threatening to tear open.
"You shouldn't be listening to other people's conversations, it's rude," you say in a tender yet firm tone. "Even if you are mentioned. Come downstairs, there's something we need to talk about."
John is hesitant but ultimately, he does what you say, he's been taught to obey. Settling down on the couch beside him, you take his hand and squeeze comfortingly, looking him in the eyes.
"No, you're not going back," you begin. "But people will come and try to take you back. But I won't let them. I promise you John, you're never going back, I will never let anyone take you from this house."
They come for him in the middle of the night.
You only know because John come bursting into your room, waking you up immediately. He can hear them from miles away, closing in all around the house, preparing to grab him while he sleeps. So you usher him into your closet, letting him hunker down before getting on your knees in front of him, cupping his cheeks.
His eyes glow red - he's scared.
"You need to stay in this closet and only come out when I tell you too. And if," you exhale deeply. "If you have too, use your powers to defend yourself."
With a kiss to his forehead, you stand and close the closet door, leaving John to cuddle his teddy bear while you prepare to defend your his home. Unlike John, you don't have super hearing so you're going in blind, waiting until you hear the back door being broken open.
Then it begins.
It's so.. easy, almost too easy, just like riding a bike, you're almost disappointed that they only sent one swat team on this suicide mission. If someone had told you a few months ago that you'd take a blue liquid that would give you superhuman strength and you'd kill an entire group of trained professionals in tactical gear, you'd probably be horrified.
Yet here you stand at the kitchen sink, covered in blood, furiously scrubbing at your hands to get some of the gore off your hands while thinking about how you're going to get rid of all the bodies that litter your house. Thankfully, you had the sense to buy somewhere remote enough that you won't have prying neighbours calling the cops.
Suddenly, you hear a radio crackle to life and someone saying your name so you dry your hands, wiping them on a tea towel before finding the exact body, reaching down and picking it up.
You press down on the button. "Stan Edgar."
Silence - it goes on a little than it should.
Then some noise coming through, the sound of cutlery being placed down on a plate. "Can I assume that they're all dead?"
"Yes," you reply. "Can I assume you won't be sending more?"
"Yes. Jonah may think that the subject is worth all this hassle but I do not share his opinion. I have always believed the project to be a waste of valuable time and resources. In my opinion, you have saved Vought money by taking him away. So for that, you have my gratitude and you get to keep the subject, I'll even ensure that you remain 'comfortable' for a few years. I'll have a team sent out to clean the mess. Goodbye."
The radio clatters on the ground as you exhale shakily, tears in your ears when the full realisation hits you with the force of a category five hurricane.
John is free, completely free.
And right now, he's upstairs in your closet, most likely frightened - he'll know you're okay though, he's probably listening to your heart right now. So calmly, you ascend the stairs, making your way to the closet but you don't open the doors.
"John, you can come out now but I need to have a shower and then we can talk, okay?"
John sits patiently on your bed, fidgeting with his teddy bear, waiting patiently for you to come out of the shower. He knows the swat team are dead, he could hear you ripping them to shred, hear them scream and beg for mercy.
The door opens and there you appear, smelling all fresh and clean, a floral scent clinging to the new pyjamas you wear. There's no smile on your face, adding to the growing unease that slowly claws at his heart. Settling down beside him, you put your arm around his shoulders and pull him close.
For a few minutes, there's an uncomfortable silence that fills the room, it's so thick it feels suffocating. John's chest constricts and he feels the panic begin to well, maybe they're sending more, maybe they'll drag him back to the lab or maybe, you'll let them.
"Do you remember that first night?" you ask.
John lets out a little whimper and nods his head; that first night is seared into his memory. It was the first time you held him while he cried, sang and rocked him to sleep. It was the first time he'd ever felt safe, secure, loved?
"Well, when I went home that morning, I cried. I cried so hard because I joined a project where they were hurting a sweet, innocent little boy. And I knew that I needed to get you away from there."
"They said I hurt people," John sniffs. "I killed people."
"You were a frightened little boy," you reason with him. "You were scared and they were hurting you, it was only natural that you tried to defend yourself. But that night, I made a decision and that's why you're sitting next to me in this house right now."
He looks up at you to see warm smile and your face soaked with tears. "It was lucky that I found-, that my powers kicked in when they did, otherwise I don't know how I would have gotten you out of that lab. But I would have tried, I would have fought like hell and even died for the chance to free you."
Died to free him?
His brows knit together as he tries to take the information in - all that time in the lab has taken it's toll on his young mind and it made him think that there wouldn't be anyone out who would save him, let alone die for him.
"Why did you do all this?"
"Because I love you John."
Three simple words.
Three simple words have rendered him mute, the world around him unravelling. Despite the millions of times he's prayed for someone to say that to him and to mean it so sincerely, he is not prepared to hear it, his fragile little psyche nearly breaking beneath the weight of it all.
There's a void deep inside of him, one that has existed since the moment he was born and suddenly, it's being flooded with a warmth he never knew existed, never thought he'd have, never believed he was worthy enough to experience.
"You…" his tongue feels puffy, suddenly too big for his mouth.
"I love you John. I love you like you're my son."
The past month flashes before his eyes; everything you've done, you've done for him. Everything you've sacrificed, you've scarified for him.
Like a parent who loves their child does.
One second passes, the teddy bear falling to the ground as he sits your lap, his arms around you tight and he weeps his little heart out. You bury your face in his hair, rocking him, trying to soothe him even thought you're a mess too.
"They're never coming back John," you whimper. "You're never going back to that lab. You're free, you're finally free."
