#physics test today + started physics project on monday

[boycritter]

i have had a test/project for every single class im taking in the last two weeks. thank christ its over

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

PROLOGUE

(a/n: Hey everybody! First time writing here, so please 🙏 excuse my poor looking posts and grammatical errors /let me know if u see any!!/ English is not my first language so pls take that into account O.O tyy ❤️)

WARNING!-there's i think one swear word

wc: 2.8 k words im sry really, like i yap a lot 😭

ALSO: please let me know if you're interested in the continuation

Imagine that in addition to your logical thinking, communicational skills and physical performance, Blue Lock also tests your mental health, because if you excel in these 4 areas, you might be worthy to become a manager of one of their players. However, competing with 199 other girls who are going through the same ordeal, let's admit, doesn't really calm your nerves. But how did you even end up in Blue Lock in the first place?

—————— Saturday morning, sitting in the corner of a nearby coffee shop, with your books open, laptop fully charged, your phone on silent mode with of course, a cup of caffeine on the side, you are ready to conquer those history notes.

You had already started to memorize everything the previous week, so today was really about practicing, and revising. After cracking your back, and sipping some coffee, you began reading the first few lines on your laptop, occasionally peeking at the highlighted parts of your book in case you got stuck.

Time passed quickly, and when you looked at the clock on your phone screen, it turned out that you had been repeating ridiculously difficult names, dates, places and events which were described in an awful lot of detail for exactly 1 hour and 32 minutes. Seeing that, you decided to take a well-deserved break, which actually just consisted of texting, and watching funny cat videos.

Closing your laptop and books, you gave yourself half an hour to rest, so that time wouldn't double leading to you procrastinating and forgetting everything you'd just revised. Reaching for your phone and turning off the silent mode, you started reading the few messages that had come in during your study session. Most of them were sent from your best friend, briefly stating that she had fallen asleep and will probably have stay up all night to cramp whatever material she can get into her head, hoping that she somehow manages to pass on Monday.

Told ya to set an alarm >:( Well, you should have accepted my offer to study together HAHAHA good luck btw :D

You wrote in response, feeling kinda sorry for her before going straight to your emails after seeing a notification, where you found a recently received message with a strange title.

“BLUE LOCK INVITATION”

What the hell is Blue Lock? And why did you get an invitation? Your initial thought was that it’s a scam, and were trying to delete the email if your stupid finger hadn’t slipped, making it press and open the email. Great, now your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read whatever was on the message.

“Dear L/N Y/N!

We are honored to invite you to the Blue Lock Manager Training Program, where you will be granted the chance to work with one of our future star football players. We hope you will consider the offer because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you are interested, please come to the following address and time.

Any further questions will be answered on-site!

Blue Lock Assistant and Health Manager,

Anri Teieri”

Um, what the fuck. Yeah, doesn’t sound sketchy at aaall…as you read the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it, not understanding how they even knew about your existence in the first place and more importantly…how did they get your email address? Although that wasn’t the point, it piqued your interest. You had so many questions yet you could only get answers on the spot.

“Smart tactic.”-you said, before browsing the internet to find something about this Blue Lock project. About 20 minutes later though, you leaned back into your chair and sighed in defeat as there was not a single thing about Blue Lock at all. The only thing you had was this quite fancy looking email.

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you began to think about the offer and whether or not to go. Your current job wasn’t good neither was the payment, which is why you recently had to take on a second job. But from what you read about the program, if you were to actually work with a soon to be star football player, the pay would probably be high. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a person, right?

After thoroughly thinking about the offer, you decided to give it a chance. Finishing the rest of your work, you came home and talked to your parents somehow persuading them to agree. Later that day you also informed your best friend as well. The weekend passed as you successfully finished your history exam on Monday and then you headed straight to the so-called Blue Lock building, the very next day. ——————

That's how you ended up in your current situation. On your first day there, they led you to a big hall with a bunch of people. To be specific, young girls around your age. Looking around for a bit, you realized that there were a lot of girls indeed, but no boys in sight. Finding it a bit strange, but shrugging it off, you turned around to face a huge stage, where moments later a pink-haired woman appeared, whose name you assumed and now know is Anri, introduced herself and greeted you from a big podium with a mic in her hand.

Finishing the brief intro she then continued with a very thorough and detailed speech, revealing that if you agreed to the conditions of the program, you would technically be locked up in the building for the next 3 months and would participate in intensive training, where you potentially could be eliminated for poor results.

“There goes my money…”-you thought, since you never really cared about football in your life nor did you know anything about it. Which in retrospect, you should have done or researched a bit before coming here since you applied to be a football player's manager after all.

“Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.”-you told yourself for some comfort. After Anri had finished her monologue, she instructed everyone that:

“If you agree and ready to take on the challenge then please go through this door!”-pointing with her microphone at a huge dark blue door that was slowly opening.

Hesitating a bit, you thought about all the possible things that could go wrong, but after a not-so-long train of thoughts you managed to convince yourself. Also that little push by a girl running towards the doors sealed the deal for you as you slowly started to walk towards the unknown.

“I mean, what can I lose, right? My sanity is gone already and even if I get eliminated, I'm just going to go back to my normal life again”-you whispered, and with a small grin you officially entered Blue Lock.

——————

To your surprise, the facility was quite clean and not to mention huge since most likely somewhere on the other side of the building, boys were kicking balls and running laps. Following the others, you arrived in what you assumed was a large waiting room with multiple TV screens on the walls. After managing to squish yourself through the crowd, a sudden voice spoke from the speakers and an egg-headed guy with a strangely perfect bowl cut appeared on the screens, introducing himself.

“Hello, diamond grinders! My name is Jinpachi Ego, the coach of the players in Blue Lock, and the overall boss of the facility. I guess you already know why you’re here so I won’t bother with that anymore. First, let’s start with a quick count, which is...currently 200 people.”-he said as you looked around with wide eyes. The fact is, there were indeed many people besides you, but you didn't think such a large amount of them would participate.

'Pfft, no worries…'-you encouraged yourself, realizing that you’d probably get kicked out on the second day, if not today. You looked up to the screens again, and bowl cut continued.

“Out of these 200 people, the best performers will be given the best athletes to work with. But! You have to know what you’re doing. From now on, every minute of your time will be spent, from morning to night according to a routine and the underperformers will be eliminated. Understand?”

You nodded unconsciously, following those around you. This was serious and there was no turning back now. Even so looking at that man’s gaze as he spoke somehow made you shiver a little.

'What have I gotten myself into?'-the question suddenly popped into your head, making you doubt for a moment, if you being here was truly a good decision, but Ego's voice immediately made you get back on track.

“Great. Let’s start with a quick summary then. First, you will be divided into 20 teams, 10 people each. This division was based on your current abilities, but they can change over time while you’re here. Each week, the levels to pass are going rise and be harder, and those who can't pass will automatically fail and get eliminated."-he said leaning back into his chair.-"Next, is the routine which the assistant will tell you about in detail later. The goal here in Blue Lock besides creating football players, is to produce ideal managers who have the perfect skills and attitude to fit with them, and to maintain their level, helping them until the end of their careers.”-he suddenly raised his index finger and the screens showed what looked like an animation of whatever he was about to say.-"This includes, one: Strategic and logical thinking, two: A healthy and fit body and three: The highest levels of media and communication! If you perform well in these three main areas, then a job and the experience of a lifetime are guaranteed! Don't disappoint me! Now lock off and goodbye for now!”

With that, the egg-headed man finished his speech, disappearing from the screens and Anri, with a microphone in her hand, started to divide everyone up, while handing out papers with our new weekly routine printed on it. Seems like you have been assigned to group number 10. That's not bad, but were your abilities really worth as much to be a team 10 member? So far you have only (tried) to manage your own life and your current football knowledge was equal to zero. But there was no time left for further thoughts, because after receiving the uniform you had to immediately start on the first task according to your assigned routine for the day.

—————— Okay. This was harder than you thought. Wiping off the sweat from your forehead, you started running your seventh lap around the damn track again.

"I’m gonna pass out.”-you muttered under your breath, as your newly made friend, you’d just met a few days ago appeared next to you.

“Same, I'm too tired to be running around in the morning!”-she replied, and after a few seconds the sound of a whistle was heard, signaling the end of the first part of the warm-up. Well, today was going to be long again.

Your new routine consisted of starting your mornings at exactly 7 am with physical exercises and then, you had a quick breakfast. After that you had to start on some brain work tasks for the day, followed by communication class and lunch. A 15 minute break later, media and IT started and before finishing the day with a small workout again, were language lessons waiting for you. Yes. You also had to learn languages.

Unfortunately not just one, not two or three, but four fucking languages in which you had to reach a basic level. At least the variety was good, since now you knew how to say hello in French, German, Italian and Spanish. (multilingual queen slay) And then based on those you could decide which one you wanted to work on more and reach at least an intermediate level. If that was not enough, the knowledge of English was also mandatory, but at an advanced level. Also for every other day there were talks, activities and tasks about basic football for those with the lack of knowledge to at least have a grasp on the topic. So there you were, in full uniform everyday for the last two months, suffering through training.

It almost hurts to admit, but on some days you started to miss your simple, slightly boring school life. Thinking back to your friends and parents who you hadn't talked with in a while, to those boring classes and your warm bed. Training was hard since other than having to excel at the 3 fields, worrying that you could get eliminated at any moment, if you lacked behind was stressing you out even more than you already were. On top of that, seeing that some of the girls were kicked out of the building was saddening, yet it worked like a charm to make you work even harder to survive till the end.

Sure, it’s not like it wasn’t good here since you arrived. Luckily, you quickly adapted to the new environment, getting used to the shared bathrooms, roommates, the extreme routines and plans you had to follow and the surprisingly good canteen food. But the lack of 'fresh air'of the bustling Tokyo, the crowded places, the subways and the fact you could sleep in on the weekends certainly made a void in your heart. The mountains were a beautiful view, but you started to get bored of them after a while.

That's how you usually spent the rest of your days with. Time also flew a lot quicker with your new friends who you suffered with together until they finally announced the end of the program, ordering everyone to gather in the waiting room. Everybody arrived on time and just a few minutes later bowl cut finally appeared on the screens again. —————— “Yo, diamond grinders! Congrats on surviving till now. Looking at your data and statuses, I'm pretty much satisfied with everyone. Well, it doesn't matter now, since the results are already decided.”-Ego said in a voice that lacked emotions yet again. Still the boredom and lack of sleep were evident on his face, noticing his eye bags and the empty cups of ramen in the background that he didn't even bother to clean up. He coughed a little before continuing.-“After analyzing every single one of you on each field, I have decided on which player to assign you, based on these factors and scores. Let's start now, shall we?"-he asked and a little icon of the first girl who was about to be assigned, appeared on the TV screens, showing her name and the team she belonged to.-"First of all, congratulations to Aiko Hashimoto…”-he said a girl's name that felt unfamiliar to you, and then went on with, what you assumed was the player's jersey number and the name of who she would be managing from now on. Meanwhile on the big screens the footballer's little icon made an appearance as well next to Aiko's.

Ego soon continued with announcing the girls by their rank and time seemed to slow down the moment he started speaking again. After a while, at least 20 minutes have passed, yet your name was nowhere to be heard. Even your closest friend was now assigned to some boy, while you were still waiting for your turn. 'Did you do that well? Maybe they just forgot to kick you out.'-you assumed after another 5 minutes passed. Listening to Ego as he was still announcing names, you glanced around at the remaining girls who seemed confident while standing, not hearing their names yet. They seemed certain that they were getting one of the top players you thought, while you, yourself were still unsure who you would end up with. Before any more thoughts could occupy your mind, the sound of a familiar name hit your ears.

“Next up is L/N Y/N.”-you heard from the speakers and finally your little icon also turned up on the screens. Oh my gosh, it’s you! Wait who was before you again? What numbered player are we even at now?!

Blinking twice, you looked up to the main screen, staring at the miniature doddle of you, while Ego was about to say the lucky guy's name you were going to work with. A sudden rush of excitement and worry began to overwhelm you, anxiously waiting to hear the fruit of your 3 months of suffering. Sure, you did do well in all areas required and even gained some knowledge about football in general, but was it enough? Every girl here did their best, trying equally hard, afraid of missing the opportunity of a lifetime and getting kicked out of the facility.

You gulped ready to hear whatever and whoever was waiting for you on the other side of Blue Lock. Ego’s voice rang through the waiting room as he said the following:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…”

(Oh my gosh, this was a long one, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^; i wasn't sure about this story since it's my first one, so pls let me know if you are interested in a continuation and tell me, who you think will get u as their manager? (★‿★) tyy

[academicweaponintraining]

monday, april 14 . ۫ ꣑ৎ

⏰: 1:21:11

today was an okay monday as mondays go. most of the schoolday itself was pretty chill, the most annoying parts being a project announced in health where i'm partnered with one of the Bros (i just know im gonna be doing all the work) and then a placement essay during lunch for honors spanish next year. i think i did well on the essay, probably not as well as i thought i would. not badly, though. after i got home i called my friend so we could plan for a club we're starting next year (i'm not gonna announce it until it's official) and we're both soo excited about it. after dinner when i had to lock in is where it got bad. i had to do my chapter review problems for my math test, and lets just say it didn't go so well!! then i had to work on a physics lab, and i spent 20 minutes entering the wrong data into my lab notebook!! i actually started crying when i realized i had to redo it (lmao im just sensitive). i also briefly studied for an english quiz i have tomorrow. i really hope i somehow magically understand this math unit by tomorrow because i HATE not understanding something (especially when there is an upcoming chapter test!). i'm looking forward to after school tomorrow because i have a meeting about starting a club and then i'll probably just yap with my friends.

xoxo, e

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Happy New Year everyone!! Enjoy this chapter and new chapters every Monday! 💜💜

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

Ch. 2: Taboo

Yoongi wakes up the next morning to an empty bed once again. He woke up to see Hyeri off when she left for her early shoot. He made her a quick snack to take with her, then fell right back to sleep the moment she left. Now he’s up again just a mere 3 hours later with an hour to spare before he heads off to his own scheduled shoot.

He rolls out of bed and makes himself a breakfast smoothie. With their world tour coming up he’s been on his pre-comeback diet which he mostly follows except when he’s with Hyeri. The way things have been lately, any time with her is worth breaking his diet.

When the time comes, he gathers everything he’ll need for the day and heads out once a manager arrives to take him to his first stop. Today’s schedule starts with a commercial shoot followed by a short promo shoot for the upcoming New Years Con being streamed on Weverse. After that, it’s dance practice until they all master the choreo or start fighting with each other too much from exhaustion. Then he’ll be in his studio finalizing some songs, making new ones, and working on a few projects he took on when he couldn’t get himself to say no to anyone.

With this schedule he has very little time to look at his phone. It’s nothing new to him and Hyeri though. They’re used to being so busy that they don’t even have a second to send a text to each other, and that’s exactly how Yoongi’s day is going. He gets all the way to practice having only checked his phone once during lunch where he sent Hyeri a quick message telling her to have a good day and that he loves her.

At practice the guys are all still working on perfecting their set list for their tour. They work one song at a time with the choreographer to make sure they have the moves down and then evaluate whether the song order is doable. It’s physically and mentally testing, but again it’s nothing new for these 7 veterans of the business.

During a short break Yoongi takes a seat against the wall next to Jin who hands him a bottle of water. “How do they have so much energy?” Jin asks pointing to Taehyung and Jungkook who are playing around in the middle of the floor.

“Their generation is a different breed,” Yoongi laughs watching along as Jimin and Hoseok record the two youngest’s impromptu breakdance battle on their phones.

When Namjoon enters the room from the bathroom, everyone begins moving into position to get back to practice. However, Namjoon pulls Yoongi to the side first.

“Hey hyung,” Namjoon says in a hushed tone. “I just want to give you a heads up.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and shows Yoongi an article.

BTS SUGA HOLDING HANDS WITH IDOL ACTRESS RAINBOW

Right under the headline is a photo of Yoongi and Hyeri after they ate together the day before. Usually Yoongi, and the rest of the guys, would roll their eyes at such articles. It’s not the first time any of them have been photographed within 10 feet of someone else and had it turn into dating rumors. It’s easy to ignore because it’s typically not long before the chatter dies down and the public has moved on to something else. Usually. But the photo is too damning to be ignored.

For the very brief moment that Yoongi and Hyeri held each other’s hand outside of the restaurant yesterday, someone managed to take a picture of them. Now the image of them with their hands linked while they gaze into each other’s eyes is all over the internet.

Denying the rumors is what they normally would do. It’s easy. But not this time. Namjoon doesn’t have to say anything else to Yoongi because he already knows what this means. He’ll have to make a statement, and denying the relationship may not be so easy this time.

“Have you heard from Rainbow?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” Yoongi says. “I haven’t been on my phone all day.” He reaches for his pocket then realizes he left his phone in his bag in his studio upstairs. He looks at Namjoon wondering if it would upset the others if he ran upstairs for his phone.

“Come on, guys!” Hobi shouts getting in formation.

“You think she’s ok?” Namjoon asks.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi sighs. “Maybe she hasn’t seen anything yet, she’s supposed to be on set all day.”

“Then I’m sure she’s fine,” Namjoon resolves moving to join the rest of the group. “Let’s get this over with.”

The remainder of practice is hardly memorable to Yoongi. His body is there on autopilot, but his mind is far gone. He knew from the start that he and Hyeri’s relationship would be risky. An idol dating is always a hot topic, but two idols dating each other is a much larger issue. He hates the taboo, and while he’s certain there will be many people happy for them, he knows the nasty other side all too well. He can handle it, he has been since before their debut, but he worries about Hyeri.

When Hyeri debuted she was part of a four member girl group called Two Piece under Starlight Entertainment. Although they were under a much smaller company, they still managed to gain a decent following after their debut. Rainbow quickly became known as the adorably shy maknae with the voice to make anyone melt.

Behind the scenes, she found herself afraid to say much for fear that she would be kicked from the group. She got along well with her members, but management kept incredible amounts of pressure on them that had all four of them afraid to say or do anything. They thought the threats of being released would end once they debuted, but it didn’t. Not only that, but everything they did came with punishment. Even when they thought they did well, they were sent home to nothing more than a bowl of rice they had to share.

The company had no money and only one artist. Two Piece. The pressure was heavy because the company was so deep in debt, but no one realized just how much until an exposé was published revealing more than anyone knew was going on.

The CEO of Starlight was found to be in debt to a few powerful figures of the underworld. A gambling addiction, shady financial dealings, and a smuggling operation spanning three countries sent Starlight to its very quick and public demise. The company was shut down and police launched a lengthy investigation.

On top of everything else, Two Piece learned that the rights to all of their music and content was sold off by the CEO to cover some of his debt. It took a long time for authorities to track down who the CEO sold the rights to, but once they did there was nothing they could do. The person was unwilling to cooperate and refused to give ownership back to Two Piece without a large payment. Of course they never saw a dime from anything they had done so they were unable to offer anything.

The cruelty and unfairness of the business resulted in the end of Two Piece. They had hoped to sign elsewhere, but after losing hope in getting their songs back, and losing hope in music altogether, rapper and vocalist EJ quit music for good. She left Seoul and went to stay on her aunt and uncle’s farm in the countryside north of Busan. She comes around once or twice a year to reunite with the rest of the group to catch up a bit, but she maintains a very low key and internet free hermit lifestyle.

Not wanting to carry on as Two Piece without all four members, the remaining three decided to disband and go their separate ways. Leader and main dancer Haeun went on a few dance competition shows before earning recognition as one of the generations best dancers. She remains in Seoul as a dance mentor on idol survivor shows and occasionally hosts dance workshops. Minji, vocalist and second youngest, released two solo albums with a different label before leaving the entertainment business and teaching musical theater at a performing arts school near Seoul.

Lastly, the shy and soft spoken Hyeri aka Rainbow remained in the music business until she recently began her acting career. She’s received lots of positive feedback for her acting from both fans and peers. Colleagues and production staff on every set she’s worked on praise her for being one of the sweetest and easiest people to work with.

It���s been 5 years since the scandal that ended their group, and now Hyeri finds herself sitting at home staring at the photo of her and Yoongi that’s been spreading across the internet all day. She was sent home after finishing only half of her shoot for her “safety” and they promised to reschedule in a few days. She was unsure why until she went back to her dressing room to change and she saw the many messages on her phone.

Minji and Haeun were just checking in on her knowing how hard things can be for her whenever she’s the subject of rumors or anything deemed controversial. Her mom let her know that if she and Yoongi need to disappear for a bit they can always come stay with them in Gwangju. Her manager tells her to get some rest and they’ll talk in the morning. There are a few other messages but none from Yoongi aside from the one he sent her earlier in the day. She figures he must not know yet so instead of messaging him she decides to wait for him to find out on his own. The last thing she wants to do is cause a distraction if he just so happens to look at his phone during practice and sees the news from her.

What she doesn’t realize is Yoongi already knows and after another hour of practice, the guys show mercy and end it early. He’s now running to get his bag out of his studio and he sees it. Messages from everyone. His brother, his mom, some friends. Everyone except Hyeri.

He quickly heads out to his car and rushes home. If she hasn’t seen the news then he wants to be home for her when she does. Just like everyone else close to her, he knows she tends to have a hard time with tabloids. He’s surprised to see the lights on when he gets home and more surprised when he sees Hyeri sitting on the couch in a daze.

“What are you doing home so early?” He asks sitting next to her. “Are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” she says softly. “Why are you home so early?”

He looks her over noticing the redness of her eyes. He can definitely smell the red wine on her breath and see the wad of tissue on the table. She knows.

“I’m here for the same reason you are,” he responds. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

She nods. Sniffs. Her lips tremble. Then she shakes her head.

“Do you think they’ll replace me?” She worries. “What if the company drops me?”

“No,” he says pulling her into an embrace. “They’re not going to replace you or drop you from anything. This shit happens all the time.”

“I know, but what do we say when it’s true? That picture is hard to deny.”

“Well…” he thinks a moment. He had been thinking about this since the moment Namjoon showed him the article. He knows they have to say something, but with that photo he feels denying it would just make them seem like liars. He’d rather break the taboo than be a liar. “Maybe we just tell them the truth.”

“What?” She asks surprised that he would suggest such a thing.

“It’s true, so let’s just admit it. Why should we hide our love because of some stupid societal rule that idols can’t date? I don’t care what anyone has to say about it, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you too baby, I just,” she pauses and takes a breath. “I need to talk to my manager tomorrow first.”

“What?” He raises a brow.

“Earlier today I got the lead role in that big drama I auditioned for.”

“Really?” He perks up with excitement knowing just how bad she wanted that role and how hard she practiced for it. It’s not only a lead role, but her first lead role. The big opportunity she’d been dreaming about.

“Yeah,” she says shyly. “They offered the part to me this morning. Nothing has been announced yet though, so…I’m scared I may lose it before I even get started.” She sniffles trying to hide her worried tears.

“Babe,” he says squeezing her tighter. “First I’m so proud of you! And second, this isn’t a reason for you to lose your role.” He cups her cheeks in his hands and gives her a quick peck. “It’ll be ok. Talk to your manager in the morning, but you shouldn’t worry. If we go public then we won’t have to hide anymore. We won’t have to sneak around in the middle of the night anymore.”

He’s hopeful. More than hopeful. He’s never been one to shy away from opposing societal norms, this would be his chance to break down another wall. Not that he’s looking for that praise, he simply just wants to go out with his love without the world trying to make it seem like he’s a bad guy.

Hyeri loves Yoongi’s bold defiance. It’s part of the reason why she fell in love with him. She admires how easy it is for him to throw caution to the wind and do as he pleases regardless of what others think. She feels confident and secure with him, but she’s still scared. The thought of losing her lead role or being embroiled in anything controversial makes her heart race. She’s worked so hard, she can’t lose this now.

When Hyeri talks to her manager the next morning, she feels even more scared. Big Hit gave Yoongi the choice to put out whatever statement he wants either to confirm or deny the relationship. JJS told Hyeri that they would deny the rumors. Yoongi was ready to shout from the rooftops that he and Hyeri are together. Then she told him what her company told her.

She’s a fresh budding actress about to star in her first lead role. Dating rumors would not only cause a negative distraction to the show that’s meant to be highly anticipated, but also would look bad for her image. Aside from the fact that she’s an idol, she’s also a new actress and the best roles are given to those who are young and available. The pure and innocent. The perfect star for a drama that calls for a lovable but oblivious female lead. Being in a romantic relationship with a member of the biggest group on the planet would send her image in a direction that her company doesn’t want.

“Did you even try to stand up for yourself?!” Yoongi shouts jumping up from the couch after she tells him the result of the conversation with her manager.

“What was I supposed to say?” Hyeri shouts back not quite bold enough to stand along with him. He’s 3 inches taller than her so it wouldn’t do her any good. “I could lose everything!”

“But you don’t mind losing me?” He huffs.

“Yoongi, you know that’s not it! You know this is my dream! You know how scared I am of having it taken away from me! What could I do?!”

“Stand your ground, Na Hyeri!!” He understands that she’s not typically the one who’s able to speak up when it comes to defying anything a superior says, but he thought she at least loved him enough to try.

“I don’t have a ground to stand on!” She cries in frustration. “I’m not a member of the biggest fucking group in the world! I can’t just say something and have the world cater to my every need! I can’t rebel knowing I have millions of fans around the world to carry me no matter what!”

“The number of fans you have has nothing to do with you speaking up for yourself!”

“Says the one who doesn’t have to worry about that shit!” She finally stands looking up at him. She doesn’t care that he’s taller, she’s pissed and he needs to know it. “You’re so far up in your cloud that you forget how it is for those of us that can’t just walk into a building and have everyone obey our every command!”

“That’s not-“

“I can’t just go against the company!” She stomps her foot about to completely explode. “I worked too hard to lose this, Yoongi! I love you but I can’t sacrifice my dream just to be a rebel or some shit! I’m not you!”

“Hye-“

“No!” She interrupts. “No matter what you say it won’t change the fact that we’re on much different levels. No one gives a shit about me. There’s a line of people waiting to take my place and I haven’t even started. I have a ways to go to build even half the following and support you have. I can’t do anything outside of the company’s wishes. I just need you to understand that.”

“I do, Hyeri, but I need you to understand that you’re not going to instantly lose everything because we tell the world we’re dating. Even if you do I can take care of you and anything you need. I can put you in contact with anyone you want and you’ll be fine.”

“Yoongi,” she sighs stepping back. “They’re already getting ready to put the statement out. It’s out of my hands.”

She walks off and goes into the bedroom leaving Yoongi standing in the middle of the living room. He knows she has a hard time with these things and he knows it’s not entirely wrong of her to fear for her job because of it. But he also feels like she should trust him more.

Either way, he’s not happy right now. He packs his work bag and decides to leave for his studio. He’s got a small bit of time before he has to jump right into the day’s schedule, so he’ll take this time to work on the things he didn’t work on yesterday and simply cool off a bit. Because as if he wasn’t already upset, Hyeri giving him the silent treatment before he left didn’t make things any better.

The statement from JJS denying the dating rumors only said they’re just friends who went out for a meal. Nothing more to it. Yoongi decided he didn’t want Big Hit to put out a statement at all. If that’s the statement her company is going with then he’d rather just stay silent. Either way, it hurts him.

He never thought he’d hurt over something like this. Maybe he’s being too emotional and not very logical. Maybe he’s letting his heart get the best of him.

He works all day but he’s not mentally present. He knows everyone else saw the statement. He knows they’re trying hard to not mention it. They’re trying hard to make things seem normal, but it’s not working well.

Hobi’s face can never tell a lie, and the way his mouth twists into a concerned frown when he sees Yoongi miss a step in practice is all too noticeable. Instead of scolding Yoongi as he normally would, he stays silent when Yoongi forgets a move. Hobi lets it slide when he does it again. After the fourth time Yoongi knows it’s intentional. There’s never a practice where Hobi isn’t catching and calling out every dance mistake. Yoongi thought him letting it go the first time was generous, but now its too much. Yoongi can tell Hobi doesn’t want to say or do anything that may make him more upset in any way.

Yoongi hates it. He hates the big ass elephant in the room. He hates that something so trivial is effecting him this bad. He hates that by the time he’s done with practice and back in his studio he hasn’t heard a word from Hyeri. That hurts.

Hyeri had her shoot rescheduled for the following day which left her with the entire day to herself. She spent most of the time reading comments online after the dating rumors were denied. Lots of people don’t believe it, but others are taking the statement at face value and not questioning it any further. It’s a mixed bag which doesn’t make her feel much better about the decision, but she knows there’s nothing she could have done.

She hates fighting with Yoongi. She knew he’d be upset but she wishes he’d be more understanding of her side of things. To her, all she can do is ride on whatever the company says. She’s gone through the worst, but JJS managed to earn her trust. They never treated her badly and even apologized to her when she left her badge at home and had to go through management to get a temporary one so she could get in the building. This company treats her like a valued family member, not a bad dog, and she can’t possibly get herself to do anything against whatever they suggest to her.

She can’t lose this.

[thatzenithnerd]

Zenith: The Second Coming

Chapter Nine: Case of the Mondays

Monday, April 24, 2006 – 8:15am

The Special Projects team at Area 52 was officially in crisis mode.

They were days behind schedule, there was no end in sight to the children’s initiation, the research wasn’t adding up, and their imminent threat was looming.

Only General Larraby and Dr. Grant knew what that threat was, and the rest of the team couldn’t do much work without the particulars. All in all, it was a matter of one step forward, ten steps back, every day.

Marsha had been doing her level best to take care of Jack and force him to step up to the plate and do his part in all of this, but even she could only exhaust so much of her time and energy in such a lost cause.

She had to take a step back from it all yesterday, as she decided to devote her Sunday to going over the children’s assessments, brain scans, and all the data from Special Projects. She wanted to get them back on track, even if it meant sacrificing her day off to coding and research.

Jack had spent Sunday doing God only knows what. Nobody actually saw him, not even in the cafeteria. Surely, he had eaten something at some point, but it went unnoticed by the rest of his team. The children had been busy working on the homework that they had abandoned on Saturday in favour of spending some quality time together, and they spent all of Sunday with their heads down.

But today was a new day. A new week, in fact. On orders from Dr. Grant, who seemed more stressed out than usual, the team���s schedules were disrupted until they began making progress. Crisis mode meant they were shifting into overdrive, and just hoping to God that it worked.

A brief meeting had been called for various members of Special Projects, including Jack, Marsha, the kids, and a few leading researchers. It would have likely been very beneficial if Jack had bothered to show up, but instead he opted to spend some extra time on his breakfast that morning.

The children would be skipping out on Marsha’s training, so that they could spend some time down in the lab where the clinicians would be taking some blood samples, more brain scans, and conducting some physiological and intelligence tests. They were determined to start receiving some reliable tests.

This period of grace would allow Jack and Marsha to sit down together somewhere and go through their own records and data collected on the children. They would be evaluating them on different levels, but their psychological state interacted with their physical state and vice versa. It was the hope that them compiling their research and putting their data together would lead them to concoct the perfect training methods for the children.

Afterwards, the children would skip out on their morning academics in favour of another mission simulator, as they were finally finding their footing in the machine, before they would break for lunch. Their day would then continue on as per usual, with academics and physical training later in the day,  before breaking for dinner and curfew.

By quarter after eight, the team was all split up. The children were ushered down to the research lab, various scientists scattered to their separate offices and laboratories, Dr. Grant was headed to the molecular biology lab where he was still working on perfecting the perfect materials for the children’s combat suits, and Marsha was off in search of Jack.

She couldn’t help but feel as though she had drawn the short end of the stick. She knew why it was important for her and Jack to work together, as co-trainers of the team, but she knew by now how futile such a notion was. She would much rather go over her research alone, or re-evaluate the kids, or perhaps even spend some time down in the lab. She felt as though she would make better progress anywhere that Jack wasn’t looming over her with his bad attitude.

It was relatively unfortunately that Jack had decided to allow himself one last go of it today. Hiding from the world yesterday gave him the rest that he needed in order to remind himself what he was here to do. The bare minimum. Get paid. Leave. No feelings, no strings attached, and no guilt.

He knew he should have been in that meeting earlier, and at this point, he didn’t care if they sent the firing squad after him. He should be so lucky to receive a swift bullet to the brain. Instead, he had nursed a coffee for breakfast and lingered in the cafeteria just long enough to worry everyone else.

His friends sat at a table nearby, but he didn’t even look at them. The kids showed up for breakfast, and he ignored them too. Jack was a lone wolf. He was here against his will, and he had gotten too close to forgetting that last week. He had one last opportunity to push everybody away and convince them that he was the wrong man for the job.

If he was forced down this path, he was going to walk it alone. That way, if the kids were nuked tomorrow and destroyed each other, it was no loss to him. If Marsha revealed herself to be just another government puppet, it wouldn’t disappoint him. If Grant pulled the rug out from under him, Jack was not betrayed by a friend.

But Marsha was on the hunt. To her surprise, she managed to find him in a matter of minutes, when they nearly ran into each other somewhere just outside of the cafeteria. She was lucky that Jack had fast reflexes, otherwise she would be wearing the mug of steaming hot coffee that he held in his right hand.

“Good morning,” she snapped at him, already in a huff thanks to the stressful meeting that he couldn’t even bring himself to attend.

She did not like seeing Dr. Grant begin to waver. The man might have been an awkward mess on the best of days, but he had always been confident in the Zenith Project. He had been the rock, the reason that the project was even given the go-ahead. The two of them had been working on it for ten years, and Marsha did not take kindly to seeing her partner grow nervous.

“Are you too good for meetings, now?” She added, and Jack did not like her tone.

He gave a sigh, wishing that he had just chosen to hide out in his room until someone broke down the door. “Yes,” Jack nodded gruffly, the scowl on his face seemingly etched there permanently. “Yes, I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“You’re with me, today,” Marsha interrupted him with a sigh before he could excuse himself from her presence.

Believe it or not, she had been looking for him for a reason.

Now, Jack knew he was in for it. Knowing that he was not going to like whatever she was about to report to him, he decided that the only way to make any of it bearable was to attempt to create a suggestive environment between him and the woman that he wanted nothing to do with this morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good her lips had looked painted in red on Saturday night, and that did not bode well as he also couldn’t stop thinking about how he did not want to spend another minute at Area 52. He couldn’t really have it both ways.

“Oh, yeah?” He teased, allowing his posture to relax a little bit as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Marsha’s face did not change.

“Doing what, exactly?” He asked flirtatiously, hoping to rattle her just a little bit.

He was determined to distance himself from everyone here, but not before pissing them all off a little bit. And with this particular woman, he knew just how to do it.

She clutched her clipboard against her chest and let a sarcastic smile grace her lips as she stared up at him, knowing that he would not like what was to come.

“Formal evaluations.”

She then turned away from him and began to walk down the hallway, in the direction of the Training Centre. Her office wasn’t quite big enough for the both of them to be working on their files, so she figured that they could sit down in the classroom at one of the tables and get some work done. Besides, she had already stopped in there to adjust the heat knowing that she would be back, and had left her tea in the room.

“Well,” Jack sighed from where he stood, “that’s one way to kill the mood.”

“Come on,” Marsha called after him without turning to look back, and Jack gritted his teeth and followed the woman into the classroom.

The task itself was simple, and the two of them would have been able to work together and come up with  many proactive solutions to the lapses in the children’s training if Jack could only get over himself and pull his head out of his ass. Marsha sat up straight, cross legged at the table as she sipped her tea and switched her glasses from perching atop her nose and the top of her head, depending on whether or not she was reading something close up.

Jack, on the other hand, sat slumped down across from her in his own chair, hardly looking twice at the files that were spread out before him. All he had in terms of physical assessments were those completed by other evaluators and researchers, and body scans of the kids. He couldn’t help but notice that Marsha had all that plus her psychological evaluations and scans, and bundle after bundle of annotated notes.

He had no idea where she found the time to keep such perfect track of everything about the kids, but he had no interest in following in her neurotic footsteps. Still, it put him at a loss for this particular task.

“Just-” Marsha began to snap in a tense voice after they had been at it for half an hour and she realized that he was practically just twiddling his thumbs across from her, leisurely sipping on his coffee without a care in the world.

She quickly adjusted her tone so that they did not fly off the handle before they could get any work done.

“Fill these out.”

She slid him a pile of empty evaluation forms of all sorts. Assessment tools, diagnostic procedures, ranking systems, form after form that Jack would have to fill out based on the data that he had in his folder, and his own observations from the training sessions. To fill them out would be to comply to the wishes of Marsha and the rest of the authority figures around here, and his own morals wouldn’t let him do that.

Five minutes later, Jack had flipped through the sheets that he was to fill out, and understood the task at hand perfectly,  but still did not start on it. Marsha had been trying to give him time before she nagged at him again, knowing that they were standing on incredibly thin ice as it was, but she had been feeling a certain kind of panic rising up through her body ever since this morning when she noticed Grant’s insecurities.

It always started as a sinking feeling deep in her stomach, like she was just nervous about something that she hadn’t let herself acknowledge yet. Then, it was the shaking hands. After the that, came the racing heart and the trembling breaths. Finally, the panic manifested in a burning in her upper chest and lungs.

She did not like the situation that they were currently in. Things felt vastly different when it was just her and Grant chipping away at the Zenith Program with the rest of the Special Projects team, knowing that they were working to build a platform that would eventually allow for the recreation of a new Zenith Team on new terms.

Ever since Larraby had given the go-ahead, things had been different.

It came at a strange time. At first, Marsha had been too excited to acknowledge that. They were ahead of schedule by years when Larraby told them to go pick up Jack and reinstate the program. They still had many boxes to check and bridges to cross, and yet it was okayed anyways. And ever since then, it had felt as though they were racing against time.

The worst part was that Marsha did not know why. She knew that there was an imminent threat – as everybody kept repeating – but no matter how much research she did or how many sources she exhausted, she could not figure out what that threat was.

She was worried for the security of the program, for the safety of the children, she was worried about Jack’s outcomes. At this point, she didn’t care what became of her career. She had worked her entire life to get where she was currently sitting. She had put in nearly a decade of school at the university with the toughest acceptance rates in not only the country, but the whole world. She had worked tooth and nail to afford her education. She had fought her way through tumultuous relationships and mental states to keep herself on track.

And now she was here, at Area 52, finally. Head psychologist, base psychiatrist, leading metahuman psychophysiology researcher, assistant head of Special Projects, experimental biochemist. She was who she always wanted to be. And now she even got to work with her own personal hero on a project that she had dreamed of participating in her whole life.

And she did not care if all that was taken away from her. She did not care if she had to go back to bartending to afford rent, to starting at the bottom and having no reputation to build her career on. She would throw it all away if it meant that she got to keep this new team safe. Her loyalties had indeed shifted the minute that Jack walked in the door. Now, she would bet her life savings on him, because she was as loyal as could be to those four children. And she was willing to gamble that deep down and when the time called for it, so was he.

All this must have been racing through her head at record speeds, because when Marsha finally blinked herself out of her panicked trance, she realized that Jack had been staring at her with a peculiarly judgemental look on his weathered face.

He had only glanced up at her in hopes of seeing her staring down at her work, biting her tongue harshly so that she did not nag him too hard. Instead, he saw the woman pale and wide-eyed, as if she had just seen a ghost, staring into space.

“What’s your problem?” He finally asked, when even her blinking did not seem to cure whatever crisis that she was having.

“I-” She began, before letting out a tense breath and shaking her head slightly to disperse the anxious thoughts. “I just – we really need to start taking this seriously. I need you to – just, please,” she struggled to get her thoughts together and did not necessarily want to have to break down and beg the man to put some effort into their task, but knew that she would if it came to that.

Jack continued to stare at her. The wide eyes, the cold sweat, he knew that look. He had seen it on others many times, he had probably worn the look himself. She was terrified about something.

Likely a terror that had been bottled up and pushed down, left to seep out slowly at times like this when it all became too much. She was freaking out inside. And based on what little he knew about her, he figured that it was serious. As delusional as she was about some things, she was usually level-headed and logical when it came to facts.

This led him to believe one thing – she knew something. He knew that there were ulterior motives to his return at Area 52, and he knew that not all of the staff members involved with this project were being told all the information. Something big was coming, anyone could feel that.

Up until now, he just didn’t care. Why did he care now? He wasn’t quite sure. Likely because now that he knew the children, he did not necessarily want to have to help them, but he also didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. Same went for Marsha. And he didn’t like the look in her eyes.

“Do you know something?” He demanded, in a quieter tone of voice.

Maybe, she finally got wind of what this imminent threat was, and it had scared her enough to panic over progress reports.

Marsha let out a ragged sigh, and Jack realized that there was a tremble to her breath that he did not like. It made him uneasy. He liked to be able to look at her for a solid kind of reassurance that she certainly was not currently providing.

“I wish I did,” she muttered in a broken voice, before casting her eyes downwards and going back to filling out her own forms.

Jack did not know what he could say to her, and he knew that to interrupt her work now would only dig himself a grave, so he simply gritted his teeth and picked up a pen.

The task was simple, really, and he was fully capable of completing it successfully. He sighed and groaned and worked slowly and cursed the government in his head every time he flipped a page, but he worked. After a while, Marsha actually forgot that he was there, and she got so lost in her own factual thoughts and evaluations that her panic began to fade.

He couldn’t seem to put it from his mind. Even as Jack racked his brain and did his best to fill the forms out accurately, and even begin to brainstorm how training could be more beneficial to each specific team member, he couldn’t stop picturing the look on her face. That look should have only been produced by a truly terrifying situation. Maybe he was in bigger danger than he thought. Maybe they all were.

Jack did not like knowing that Marsha was afraid. As far as Dr. Grant was her rock during the storm, she was Jack’s. It was like watching the crew of a ship suddenly began to panic as they tried not to alarm the guests that they were capsizing. It was the face of someone who knew just how high the stakes were, and how close to the edge they were teetering.

Without really knowing why, he believed her when she said she did not know anything. He was beginning to trust this woman and truly believe that she may be one of the only people at this base who had no ulterior motives when it came to him and the children. Besides, she did not strike him as a very good liar. He could imagine just how frightening it is when a person knows the volume of the danger, but not where the threat is coming from.

10:30am

Jack’s brain was overworked, and it was only half past ten in the morning. They had been at it for a couple hours now, with no real solution in sight. Marsha had been all clammed up for a while, and he had been alone with his thoughts for too long now. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

He dwelled on his circumstances, the way that they had dragged four innocent children into the mix, how Marsha was shutting down due to the fear of the unknown when she was supposed to all but be in charge of the project.

He thought of his lack of choices and autonomy, how he hated being back here in the place that had brought ruin to his life. How every room reminded him of his brother, every blonde of his ex-girlfriend, how much of Henry he saw in Dylan. He hated that damn table in the cafeteria that Rebecca used to sit at for hours when she was doing her homework.

He was angry that the American government had used this military base to experiment on five kids, and he was angry that his instincts told him they were about to do it again. He was angry that they made a monster out of his only brother, he was angry that he couldn’t save him, nor anyone else on the team that he was supposed to be responsible for. He hated that he had become a broken shell of a person living a broken shell of life. He hated the emptiness.

The decisions of the Area 52 military robbed Jack of a life. They cut his future short. Trapped him in 1986 forever, just like his long-lost brother. He couldn’t even move on and forget it. The guilt following him around for the rest of his life, like a dead thing shackled to his ankles that he constantly dragged around. It slowed him down. It prevented him from allowing himself to make connections, to love people, to live. Because he was supposed to have a life once, and it was all taken from him.

That anger would never go away.

Jack looked up from his work before the fury consumed him and he began steaming from the ears. He focused his eyes on Marsha’s concentrated face with the hope that she might be able to steady him. Another living, breathing person who was just trying to live their life in this facility. But instead of grounding him, she only enraged him more.

Jack was angry about the way that she had tricked him when they met. He hated that he was so attracted to her that he was willing to let his guard down and fall for her and Grant’s scheming. He hated that every now and then, he would get flashes of that green dress in his mind, and remember the way that the California sunshine had dotted her bare shoulders with delicate freckles. He was angry because none of it was real.

The same way that she had been expecting some great hero, he had been expecting a bombshell. A green dress without a brain. Someone who could drive him to distraction with her good looks and charms, but never tempt him any further than physically.

Instead, she was brainy. She was kind-hearted. She had a real depth to her, even if her head was always up in the clouds. She was a geek, but she was also sharp as a tack. And it didn’t take long at all for her distractions to lose their appeal. Very early on, Jack decided he no longer wanted to sleep with her. But, why?

Not because he wasn’t attracted to her. Because he wasn’t just attracted to her. Because she was the kind of person who threatened to make him feel like the hero that he secretly still wished he was. Because she saw right through his acts and tore down his defenses. Because he liked her. And if they threw sex into the mix, he would fall for her in an instant. And he couldn’t do that. Not when he promised never to have anything else to lose. Not when the only person he was ever supposed to feel that way for had died decades ago. He wasn’t supposed to get a second chance.

And Jack couldn’t stand that he was still floored by her smile, and the little crinkle in her nose when she laughed. He hated the way that she still smelled the same way that she did out there on the street, and he hated that the smell still rendered him weak in the knees. He hated the way that when he was around her, no matter what, he was forced to feel alive again. To feel like he was truly living in the world, not just existing. He hated how dangerous that was and how little he could do to prevent it.

And he hated that the way in which she made him feel alive was by all but prying his eyes open to reality, and forcing him to come to terms with his life. He hated the way that arguing with her made his blood boil, because it was the strongest emotion he had been able to feel in decades. He hated the way that her eyes sparkled underneath the fluorescent lights of the facility, because it reminded him that at their core, they were just a man and a woman. He hated the way that every time she opened her mouth, he was forced to look at her pretty lips and then try to figure out why on earth he wanted to kiss them.

He did not like the confusion, he did not like the way that she maneuvered him, he did not like any of it. And quite frankly, on this Monday morning, there wasn’t anything that he was not angry about.

Finally breaking from his trance, Jack was surprised to hear the door behind him creaking open, and Marsha looked up to greet their new arrival. It was one of the lab technicians whose name Jack did not yet know.

“Miss Holloway,” the younger woman began, lingering in the doorway which signified that she obviously had other places to be. “Sorry to interrupt. The children’s updated brain scans are ready for you in the lab.”

Marsha nodded and uttered a quick, polite thank you, and the lady disappeared just as quickly as she had showed up. Jack realized that she was in work mode when she began gathering up her files without even looking up at him.

“I should go get those,” she spoke mechanically, as if her mouth and hands were on autopilot while her brain was busy.

As she continued, Marsha cast a glance down at her watch and stood from her seat, reaching behind herself to tug her lab coat off the back of her chair and pull her arms through the long sleeves.

“The children are in a simulation right now. You should probably go oversee it with Dr. Grant,” she added, and Jack raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be down in a bit.” Marsha moved to leave the room, but turned back on an afterthought and reached for the folder that she had just tidied up. “Oh, here,” she slid it towards him, obviously insinuating that he should compile it all together. “Why don’t you bring this all down to the Training Centre and we can get a second opinion?”

It was not a question, it was a demand, that was clear. She had turned rather robotic after all the work this morning, and was treating Jack like just another military peon. This whole time he had been asking her to treat him like a normal person, not some kind of hero, but now that she was actually doing just that, he got his back up.

“Were you a drill sergeant in another life?” He deadpanned, staring up at her from his casual position in his seat.

Marsha froze and her eyes finally darted to him, realizing that she was being colder than usual and that they were speaking on more professional terms than they had taken to lately. She was not being rude – she was merely acting like a woman on a time crunch. She took in a deeply aggravated breath and shut her eyes briefly against her frustration.

“Jack-”

“I just find it interesting the way that you act like you’re still in charge when you have no idea what’s really happening around here.”

The comment was unnecessary, and he knew it. He was just trying to bait her into an argument of some kind, trying to get under her skin. But he knew that it would only aggravate her and potentially even scare her further.

Marsha took in a sharp breath and felt a certain kind of intense anger bubbling up inside of her. They did not have time for this. There was a very real threat out there, and the people standing in harm’s way just so happened to be four children. Four children whom she adored and would protect with her life. She only wished that Jack was standing in their corner with her rather than on the sidelines alone. Not for or against anybody but himself.

“If you’re looking for an argument, I’m really not in the mood,” Marsha snapped, before quickly leaving the room.

12:45pm

Later that day, Marsha did not join Jack and Grant in the observation chamber while the children ran their simulation. The brain scans that she had received were frankly intriguing enough to keep her good and busy that day in her own office, going over them intricately and comparing them to other scans. Neurology may not have been her most studied discipline, but she was going to do her level best to examine the children from such a perspective.

She had gone to the simulator, taken one look at the overcrowded observation booth, and turned around on her heels when she realized that there was about ten people all squished onto that deck, clipboards in hand, talking over each other. She figured that as they all tried to work together, Jack was likely being extra difficult as she knew full well how much he despised it when people got all up in his face.

Furthermore, she did not have any desire to be around him today. Not while he was in such an aggravating mood, and certainly not while she was stressed out and worried about whatever was coming their way, and she could not help but direct that anger at the man who did not seem to care enough about the danger of the unknown to step up and put some real effort into their project.

This was precisely why she holed herself away in her office and worked right through the lunch hour. She did her best to understand the brain scans and what exactly they meant, and she had even called in a second opinion from the base neurologist who agreed with her theories and data analysis. She had patients in the afternoon, but afterwards it was right back to the theorizing and problem solving.

8:30pm

By the time the day was done, Marsha had all her information perfectly sorted into a file folder, with her suggestions and future plans typed out in a formal report. She speed-walked around the entire facility in search of Dr. Grant. Marsha knew that sometimes he turned in early and she did not want to miss her opportunity.

The two of them used to converse about everything, they always consulted each other on everything Zenith-related, there were no secrets. Now, she felt like the one left in the dark while him and Larraby ran around sharing secrets and making plans entirely independent of her.

“I’ve gone over it all twice,” she explained, after finally finding him in the living sector of the facility, on his way to his quarters for the night.

Marsha had told him what she had been up to all day, and begged him to take her theories into consideration.

“It’s all here, and it’s all annotated. At the end, I’ve made some suggestions as to how I believe we should move forward.”

“Okay, Marsha,” Grant sighed. “It’s late in the day, and-”

“Just say you’ll look at it,” she pleaded, once she realized that the older man was clearly making excuses. “Please, Grant.”

He sighed once more and gazed down at her. She was clearly nervous about something – she only hyper-fixated like this when she believed the stakes were high enough to do so.

“What’s this about?” Grant inquired. “I didn’t ask you do put this together.”

“It’s–” Marsha began sharply, before taking a breath and trying to regulate her thoughts and tone. “What was my top priority, when I started working with Special Projects?”

Grant only stared at her; he knew that her question was rhetorical.

“Radiation,” she stated. “I wanted it off the table entirely. And up until now…I really thought that it was.”

“Until now?”

Marsha stared up at him with a pained look on her face. “I’m not blind, Grant, I can see what’s going on. There’s obviously something out there. Something big. And I-” she stuttered slightly as she shook her head, not wanting to push her luck. “I don’t expect you to tell me what it is, but it’s obvious that nobody thinks we’re prepared for it. And I…” she shook her head. “Logically, I know what that means.”

“Marsha,” Grant said seriously, and truly wished that he could believe his own words. “You know I have no intentions of dosing the children.”

Marsha winced and looked away momentarily. “It’s not you that I’m worried about,” she said softly, before looking back at him. “I just…I know that we can do this without radiation, but I need you to take this into consideration,” she said, gesturing to the folder that she was now shoving into his hands. “I’ll never ask you for anything else, ever again.”

Grant stared at her, and was taken back to earlier years. He knew her as a young college student, back when she was engaged to be married to his nephew. And perhaps the two of them had stirred up enough chaos during their little ill-fated tour of the facility back when his nephew decided to become an enemy of the state and force them all into a judicial trial that nobody had time for, but he had always liked her. She was driven, she was ambitious, she was extremely pleasant.

She had been fresh off a red-eye flight coming from Virginia when she showed up at Area 52, after being hand-selected by their Special Projects team to be taken aboard the Zenith Project. Grant knew that he had wanted her all along. Once she got on at the Pentagon, he figured that it would only be a matter of time before he got the go-ahead to swoop in and steal her away for this monumental project.

Despite the minor jetlag, and very short notice, she entered the facility like a bright ray of light. Eager to please, excited to be brought on board, ambitious to change the world for as many people as she possible could.

She was young. Younger than most people that he worked with. It was 1996, she was only 27 turning 28, but she made more progress when it came to that project than anyone else. She was their expert psychological and psychophysiological consultant on multiple projects, and one of the leading research scientists on the Zenith Project in particular. Beyond all that, she took on patients at the base, and led multiple trials in the biochemical laboratory.

The two of them had been unstoppable together. Grant had laid down the framework, and she came in and filled in the blanks. Together, they made great strides in latent physiological ability research, and got the reinstatement of the Zenith Program up and going. She used to go on and on about how working there was a dream come true for her, and that she had always hoped to work on that particular project, but never even knew if it was anything more than an old wives’ tale.

As soon as Larraby okayed the reinstatement of the Zenith Program, and gave them a loose timeframe of ten or so years to get it up and coming, Marsha powered into overdrive. She mastered her psychological, psychiatric, and psychophysical knowledge, she devoted more time than anyone to setting up the Zenith Program, and she took on a very passionate side-project. By putting everything she already knew together and furthering that data with new research, case studies, and theoretical treatments, she fought to make the utilization of ability-enhancing or experimental radiation obsolete.

It was late 1997 when she branched out and led an independent study in the experimental research lab, focusing on meta-human psychophysiology. She used the original team’s experience with Gamma-13 radiation and what had happened to Concussion as a case study and a baseline for her research, and aimed to provide enough alternative ways to potentially increase and enhance latent abilities so that radiation could be ruled out entirely. As a result of her hard work and passionate stance, Dr. Grant gave the study a stamp of approval that would successfully render the use of radiation permanently obsolete.

He remembered how passionate she had been about the topic, how tragic she considered the Concussion incident in 1986 to have been, and how she was willing to devote so much of her career to the cause. He wondered just how much that particular stamp of approval would mean in this day and age. Would it hold up against a heavy-handed dictator in the making?

Looking her in the eyes today, Grant knew that nothing had changed. Her hair may be longer, her composure a bit more sophisticated, she may have had a few more lines around her eyes, but she was still that same passionate young scientist willing to do anything for the sake of a better future for people that displayed latent abilities. She was still an activist. Moreso, now that she had four children that she loved and a hero that she was desperate to resuscitate.

The least he could do for her now was pretend to have her back, even when he wasn’t sure how much power that would give either of them.

“Okay,” Grant finally said, and he watched Marsha breathe a literal sigh of relief.

He merely nodded once in her direction, before continuing down the hallway so that he could change out of his constricting suit and crawl into bed with her documents and suggestions.

The sigh of relief had helped her racing heart, but Marsha’s shoulders were still so stiff that they were practically sitting right underneath her ears. She wanted a cup of tea. She wanted her hands to stop shaking. She wanted to know if they were shaking because she was nervous and stressed out, or because of the sheer amount of time she had spent taking notes and then typing them all out. More than anything, she just wanted some peace tonight.

Perhaps, she thought, she might find that peace in the lounge. She couldn’t quite handle being around anyone who wanted to make idle conversation in any of the staff rooms, but she figured that even if the lounge was full of chattering kids, she would at least enjoy herself just being around them.

She entered the lounge tentatively, and was pleasantly surprised to feel a pair of small arms wrap themselves around her upper legs.

“Miss Holloway!” Cindy squealed, clearly happy to see her.

The rest of the kids waved and welcomed her from where they sat around the coffee table.

“Look what I made!”

Marsha crouched to the ground so that she could take a look at the crayon drawing that Cindy must have just completed. She felt her knees crack as she did so, but ignored the sensation. The drawing was self-explicit. A little girl in a princess dress arm in arm with a brown-haired boy, a taller boy with his arms crossed beside a redheaded girl, a grouchy looking man with a goatee, and a brunette with glasses and a lab coat.

“It’s beautiful, Cindy,” she smiled, and hadn’t expected her voice to come out sounding quite so tired and worn. “You’re a real artist,” she tapped the girl on the nose once before she stood up, and took in the scene.

“Come on, Cindy,” Summer called out from the sofa, holding up a video game controller. “You’re going to miss it!”

Cindy went running back to the couch, where she grabbed the controller and joined Summer in playing some kind of game on the television set that involved racing cartoon vehicles. The two of them cheered and whined, and Summer did not take it easy on the younger girl.

On the other sofa, Tucker and Dylan seemed to be having a casual conversation. Marsha grabbed herself a cup of tea from the back of the room, dosed it with enough sugar that even a child might enjoy the drink, and took a seat in the empty armchair. Instantly, her body relaxed into the seat, and she realized just how much her back hurt and her feet were aching.

“I don’t know,” Tucker shrugged, as him and Tucker continued their conversation.

Marsha was only vaguely listening, as she had suddenly been mesmerized by all the fast-moving colours on the screen of the television.

“I just feel like we’re finally making some progress, you know?” Clearly, they were referencing the work that was being done on the Zenith Team.

“Like, we still may not have gotten a success in the simulator, but today was the closest we came, for sure,” Tucker added.

Dylan nodded his head and shifted in his seat. “No, you’re right, we’re definitely getting better.”

“Imagine how good we’d be if somebody actually started putting in some effort and we didn’t have to figure it all out on our own,” Summer added in a snarky tone, though she did not tear her eyes away from her game.

“To be fair,” Tucker gestured with his hands, “he has gotten a bit better.”

“He’s not so bad,” Dylan added.

Him and Jack might have been at odds during certain training sessions, but they often saw eye to eye on things.

“I get why he hesitates to want to be a part of this whole thing.”

Marsha tried to listen objectively, but instantly began to grit her teeth.

“I guess so,” Summer said. “Our training session was better today. Oh, Cindy, hit that block!”

“Oh, hey, did you hear Project 8’s coming out in November?” Dylan began, clearly moving on to the next topic that did not interest Marsha in the same way.

She really did not want to think about work any further today. More than that, she did not want to think about Jack Shepard any further today. But she could not ignore what the children had said, nor the implications of said words.

Jack was still not open to putting any kind of heart into the project, but he was clearly lightening up. She figured that just naturally, as each day progressed in the same fashion as the one before, he would eventually start giving in to his duties here and at least play the part. The fact that his training sessions were no longer entirely useless, and that the kids were even improving in the mission simulator told Marsha that she could not give up now. Her efforts had clearly not been in vain, and Jack’s training abilities were in there somewhere. She had to find them. She was almost there.

It exhausted her to think that she had to keep fighting with Jack about this, and she certainly had no intention of doing so tonight. But it gave her a bit of hope to know that maybe one more push was all it would take. She relaxed further into her seat, cupped her tea with both hands in hopes of warming them up a little bit, and closed her eyes. There was a light at the end of this dark tunnel, just as she had suspected. But it was sure as hell going to cost her.

For tonight, Marsha felt satisfied just relaxing for a bit in this pleasant room with four friendly children. Tomorrow she could start fresh with Jack and tackle any issues as the day came. But before Marsha knew it, the night fell silent, and the children turned in. She watched them leave with the optimistic hope that tomorrow would be a better day, and that those kids were capable of anything, so long as they had support behind them.

They left her right before the clock struck ten, just in time for curfew. Marsha figured that at that point, she should have gotten up and taken her leave as well. It had been an incredibly long day, she felt a headache coming on, and tomorrow would be an even longer day that she did notwant to navigate with a headache. But the aching in her back and the pinching shoes on her feet kept her seated, holding the now empty mug of tea in both of her hands as she let out a sigh.

There was a soft kind of comfort in the room tonight. It was in the dimming lights, the comfortable chair, the way that she felt as though she could finally breathe after her heart and mind had been racing all day. She moved her mug into one hand and picked up the magazine that had been sitting on the coffee table beside her with the other, folding over the pages so that she could easily read it with one hand. She had kicked off her heels and let them fall beneath her as her feet hung off the chair now covered by nothing but the dark tights that she had been wearing beneath her skirt all day.

She wanted to get back to her room, have a shower hot enough to burn the day off of her, get into some silk pajamas, and dive into a book before she hopefully fell asleep. But in this moment, she could not imagine getting back on her feet to make that trek. She was going to give herself a few minutes with a trashy tabloid magazine. She was just reading about how Denise Richards had finally finalized her divorce from Mr. Sheen, when the door to the lounge was pushed open.

Now, there was only one person that she knew for a fact that it would be, and it sent a nervous pang through her stomach. The newcomer still surprised her when really, he shouldn’t have. She knew that he frequented the lounge in favour of the staff rooms when he did not wish for any human interaction. She also knew that he was a night owl, whether that was voluntary or not.

Slowly and warily, she looked up from the gossip-filled article to meet the eyes of Jack Shepard, who only raised his own tired eyebrows once in acknowledgement of her presence. By the looks of it, he hadn’t been counting on seeing anyone tonight, and was not altogether pleased to be running into her. As for Marsha, she watched him walk to the back of the room, heard him pour a glass of water, and hoped that perhaps he could leave just as quietly as he had arrived, and they could avoid another unpleasant conversation today.

Where Jack was concerned, he too felt that similar pang within him the minute that he realized the room was already occupied. The same nerves, a large dose of agitation, a fair amount of uncertainty. They hadn’t been on friendly terms today, to say the least. After leaving things so poorly on Saturday night, not speaking on Sunday, and snapping at each other all morning, he wasn’t quite sure where they stood.

Marsha hadn’t shown up to simulation training like she said she would, he hadn’t seen her over lunch, nor anywhere around the facility afterwards. And on such a jam-packed day of work and training, he had expected her to at least come by during his training as she had taken to doing by the end of last week. But nothing.

He felt as though maybe she was giving up on him, and it twisted him up inside. That was what he had wanted for a week now. He wanted her to stop trying, to lose all faith in him, to leave him in peace. Now that she was pulling away, it panicked him. But that’s only how he felt, not what he wanted.

He wanted a cup of coffee, and it had been every intention of his to drown his sorrows in a piping hot mug of one made Irish tonight, but seeing her sobered him into wanting a glass of cold water instead. He stared from across the room, without turning any of the lights on. Her face was golden beneath the dim light of the lamp in the living room area, and she was looking down at a magazine, but he could tell that she was not reading it.

She wasn’t. Instead, she was taking note of the rising tension in the room that seemed to elevate with every passing second that no words were spoken. She did not know if he was going to say anything at all, and the anticipation of the potential crashing and burning of their hypothetical conversation was driving her mad. The fact that she could feel him staring at her did not help.

Her hair had been in a nice bun at the nape of her neck when he filled out the evaluations with her earlier, she wore a nice blue blouse atop a navy skirt with her typical lab coat, glasses, and high-heeled shoes. Now, her hair was falling out of the bun in delicate little curls, her shirt looked like it could use an ironing, there was a tear in her tights running up her right leg, and her glasses were sitting precariously atop her head to give her eyes a break.

Seeing that her guard was down, and she was clearly tired. Jack wondered if tonight might be a perfect opportunity to turn the tables on her. Her defenses were lowered, she was in no mood to fight, and wasn’t that precisely when she liked to jump him with a tough conversation?

He couldn’t not take advantage of this opportunity.

Knowing that the peaceful option was to let her suffer in his tense silence for a bit longer before taking his leave and avoid having to raise his voice tonight, Jack shook that option from his head. He had been taking her shit for too long now. Biting his tongue and letting her have her say, taking it easy on her whenever they would get into it. He was a peace disturber, and it was high time that he reclaimed that identity.

The last words she had said to him this morning began to bounce around Jack’s head. It was too good to pass up. He set the glass of water down and paced his way slowly towards the armchair, where he loomed over her ominously. To her credit, Marsha refused to look up from her tabloid, though she did appear to be holding her breath.

“How about now, then?” Jack finally stated gruffly, his loud voice ringing out against the previous silence of the peaceful room.

Marsha raised her head with a sharp intake of breath, and stared her eyes straight forward. Clearly, her time was up. Jack was out for blood tonight, and he did not seem to care that she wasn’t interested in a fight.

She let out the breath and slowly turned her head to meet Jack’s stony eyes. They were unforgiving in the dark shadows.

“What?” She asked in a tired voice, desperately hoping that they could just bicker a bit and be done with it.

“In the mood for an argument yet?”

Marsha now knew what he was referring to. The last time that she had spoken to him earlier, she accused him of looking for an argument, and explicitly told him that she was not interested.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” She asked in a level voice, though it didn’t take a speech expert to understand that she was only asking because she had to, and would sooner be doing anything else.

“Yeah,” he did not like his tone, and he matched it perfectly as he snapped back at her. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Well,” Marsha pushed herself out of her chair and dropped the magazine down in her now empty seat. “It’s late,” she met his eyes as she moved past him.

Marsha wound up at the back of the room, where she placed her empty mug in the sink and filled it with water.

“So, you’d better spit it out.”

“You’re not stupid,” he stated, and Marsha flinched when she realized that she had failed to notice him following her back into the kitchenette as she stood at the sink with her back towards him.

Jack noticed the gesture, and almost felt rather guilty. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but they were doing this tonight, there was no getting around it. Marsha gripped the edge of the sink and let out another tense sigh before finally turning around to indeed find him standing closer than she expected. In that moment, he realized that she wasn’t wearing shoes – there was nothing on her feet but the pair of dark sheer tights she’d had on all day. He wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t suddenly have to lower his gaze more than usual in order to meet her eyes.

Marsha gave him a sharp look, even in her tired state. One that told him to get on with it and finish his sentence.

“All the other people in the lab – Grant, even the kids – they’ve all been so goddamn brainwashed by this place and the program, nobody’s even trying to think for themselves, here.”

Jack took a half step backwards and crossed his arms across his chest. Marsha gazed down at the lines and colours of his tattoo as a distraction.

“It’s clear as day what’s going on around here, yet everyone else is more than happy to just…” he gestured with one hand before letting it fall back on his other arm. “Turn a blind eye.”

“Is there a point that you’re getting to?” Marsha fought back sharply, taking a strict disliking to the tone of voice that he was taking with her.

He sounded self-righteous, and she did not like that.

“I don’t know, Miss PhD, why don’t you tell me?” Jack narrowed his eyes, and Marsha raised her head slightly when she realized what he was accusing her of.

A silence passed between them as their eyes tried to read each other. His were as sharp as stone, hers as uncertain and fading. She may have been holding her breath again, and Jack noticed that the shadows from the dimming lights in the lounge were darkening her features in a becoming way.

“I don’t take you for someone who’s all that stupid,” Jack finally said, in an unforgiving tone. “Something that’s been bothering me for a while now, actually,” he added slowly.

Marsha wondered why he was trying to draw this out so dramatically, instead of just coming right out with it so that they could have a proper conversation. If he was going to accuse her of something, she’d rather him do so without beating around the bush. Do it while looking her in the eyes.

“What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?”

She blinked. Marsha had not been under the impression that he gave her so much thought, and she was not sure if she liked it or not. Instinctually, she was thrilled to imagine that he was thinking about her at all. But in reality, she did not want him to try and figure her out in any way.

She didn’t want him seeing through too many of the smoke and mirrors, straight through to the ugly truth inside of her. Because he wouldn’t find whatever it was that he was worried about finding. He would find something much worse. He would find a very cursed person who brought nothing but tragedy and grief wherever she went. He would find a death sentence just getting too close to her.

Marsha felt a wrenching in her stomach and worried that her hands might begin to tremble and give her away.

“I-” she began, hoping that she could explain it to him as believably as possible.

If he wanted facts, she could give him facts.

“I spent eight years in school and four years at other jobs before I was offered this job,” she tried to explain, unable to understand why Jack couldn’t see the value in her position.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” Jack butt in, narrowing his eyes at her.

He switched his tone to something a bit more casually interrogative and gave her a newly invasive look. He made a move to take his own water glass off the counter and place it in the sink, but it was merely an excuse to circle her like some kind of predatory vulture.

“When did you come here?”

Marsha turned herself around and now crossed her arms across her body in defense. “I don’t appreciate the third degree,” she stated firmly.

“It’s just a question,” Jack responded in an aggravatedly calm voice.

She stared at him defiantly for a moment, before realizing that there was no way out of this conversation.

“’96,” she finally said, in a cold voice.

Jack let out a breathy, sarcastic kind of chuckle. “Ten years of this, and you still don’t see any issues?” He shook his head in her direction following his rhetorical question.

Jack watched her begin to shake her head in defense, and sighed to himself once.

“Where did they find you?”

Marsha took his statement as nothing more than taunting, and was surprised to meet his eyes only to find him obviously waiting for an answer. She did not know why he was expecting her to have some kind of lurid past. War crimes, a wiped record, something worse. As if she was some kind of military robot, or someone groomed for the program fresh out of high school. Especially when, in fact, she had to work tooth and nail to get here, and jump through multiple difficult hoops.

All Jack understood was that there was something suspicious about her. Something that she wasn’t telling him. What he failed to realize was that she was keeping something from everybody, not just him. And it wasn’t dangerous, it wasn’t treason, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone but herself. Hence why it had always been a secret. The real reason she was here.

Marsha had to suppose that he was picking up on her secrecy and in truth, Jack was right. She didn’t just randomly find herself at Area 52 working on this project. There was a specific reason that she was here. Why she sought out the Zenith Program in the first place. But she wasn’t willing to own up to that yet.

She swallowed dryly and gave him a cautious look, knowing that her next response might have her falling even farther in his eyes.

“The Department of Defense,” Marsha finally stated, her voice low and almost hushed.

Jack raised his eyebrows and let out a quick, facetious chuckle. Suddenly, he was not surprised.

“So, you’re just government through and through, then?” He said rhetorically, after what felt like forever. “Guess that explains it.”

Now, Marsha was done being coy. To say that she felt no shame regarding her past would be a lie, but she was certainly not ashamed at how far she had managed to come, and was very proud of the fact that she was currently working for one of the most important confidential military labs in the country. She was proud of her work, she was proud of her career, and she was not going to let her hero shame her for it.

Jack was angry, he was looking for a fight, and he was quickly realizing that he had no bone to pick with her. This was his very last resort.

“You know,” Marsha started sharply, getting her back up. “You’ve been gone for twenty years. You don’t know anything about what we’ve been working on here, because you won’t let yourself see beyond your own narrow judgements!”

Jack crossed his arms again and leaned back against the sink. “Do I not have every right to make judgements?”

Marsha pulled her eyebrows together on her forehead and stared at him with an unreadable expression. “You really can’t see the good that we’re trying to do here?”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack responded sarcastically, with an arrogant nod of his head. “Who’s we?”

He watched Marsha open her mouth, but falter against any words.

“Grant? Him and Larraby both keep you in the dark,” Jack spat. “The rest of your research team? They’re just doing what they’re told, aren’t they? Like robots.”

The more he considered it, the more he began to realize why she was so desperate to get him in her corner. She had no one else. Was that something to use against her? Probably not, but Jack was doing one hell of a job of it anyways.

“You personally might be in this for the right reasons. Hell, you might’ve dedicated your career to it. But how much is that going to mean if you’re the only one who wants to be on the right side of this whole thing?”

Marsha narrowed her eyes now and straightened her back. She understood what he was saying, she did not understand why he was saying it, nor what good it would do at this point.

“What are you trying to say?” She demanded.

“I’m trying to tell you,” he took a step away from the sink so that he could look down on her once more. “That I think what you’re doing is just ignorant. Naïve.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“You’re putting your faith and trust in anyone with power around here. You trust that Grant’s going to steer this project in the right direction and have your back. You trust that Larraby’s going to make the right calls,” Jack began to list. “You trust that I’m going to whip those kids into shape. I mean, come on,” he shook his head, and Marsha felt rather belittled. “You’re a scientist, you know the odds of all that aren’t exactly in your favour. You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and you’re going to get hurt because of all that blind faith.”

Funnily enough, she did not remember asking. Marsha peered at him and again wondered how he had become this man. A has-been hero who now retreated from any danger, ran from his feelings, hid himself away from the world and the reality of his life. He closed himself off from the possibility of any goodness in order to keep out all the pain. And to him, that was a perfectly reasonable sacrifice.

She was sick of his assumptions and judgements. He had no right to make any at all, and she certainly did not appreciate him voicing them. Especially since she had done absolutely nothing to provoke this very personal attack tonight.

“So, what, then? You think I should just live like you do? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” She was shocked when he did not interrupt her. “You think I should live every day in fear that I might just happen to feel an emotion?”

Marsha was milking this, of course, but she felt as though that might be necessary.

“Sorry that I’m not so afraid of getting hurt that I would rather just live alone and miserable for the rest of my life!”

She felt as though she had derailed them a little bit, as Jack had been initially referencing her blind faith in the military and government management at Area 52, but she knew a personal attack when she received one, and she wanted to prove to him that her bite was just as bad as her bark.

He kept quiet for a moment as he peered at her through narrowed eyes. Jack was doing his best not to feed into her obvious provoking.

“You really don’t see it?” He said instead, taking a step closer to her and plastering an ominous look on his face. “How this place just feeds on people’s weaknesses? How it knows just how to use the things that you care about against you? For the sole purpose of taking away any power you might have.”

Marsha noticed his eyes darken as he depicted the root of his trust issues, but she couldn’t seem to look away.

“You think I’m miserable just because I’m alone? Because I won’t let myself get invested in this new team that you’re trying to create?” Now, he chuckled bitterly, and shook his head. “No,” he said under his breath. “No, I’m not that stupid.”

Marsha had nothing to say, she did not know if anything would be appropriate. She could not relate to what he was saying, but she supposed that she could understand it.

“This time around, they can’t use anything against me,” he added, so that she truly understood what he meant and why his empty life was comforting to him.  “There’s nothing left that I care about.”

The more the both of them pondered the statement, they more they both knew it to be complete bullshit. A convenient lie under the shadows of the military rec room in the middle of nowhere.

He couldn’t pretend that if something happened to the kids now, he could go on completely unaffected. Perhaps it wouldn’t wreck him the way that losing his original team had destroyed him, but it would certainly add to the list of things that kept him up at night.

Not to mention, her. The woman standing right before him, staring into his eyes as if she might never look away. The woman who he had been physically drawn to since the very moment he caught a glimpse of her, back home in Long Beach. The woman that he realized was nothing like he imagined, in so many ways. The woman that surprised him every day in ways both good and bad.

They had spent an entire week bickering, flirting, full on fighting –all that couldn’t have meant nothing. Even if Jack wasn’t willing to admit to that. But he had to come to terms with the fact that she was on his mind more often than not, even if it was because she drove him positively mad.

The way that she fought for him threatened to break through his defenses, the way that she had faith in him threatened to tear down his walls, the way that she looked at him threatened to have him feeling something. Heaven forbid.

But Jack’s statement held steadfast in the air between them, and a large part of him truly believed it. He stared at her and just hoped that Marsha could not see each and every one of his thoughts as they crossed his mind, flashing across his eyes. Unfortunately, she’d always seemed to see right through him.

Not this time.

Marsha did note the doubt on his face, but she wouldn’t dare to assume where it came from. Besides, she had to remind herself that she did not care how he felt about her. Whether or not he cared for her. All she wanted was for him to care about the children.

Nonetheless, his statement did not hold up quite so strongly against the passionate eye contact that they were now making. She had to put it aside, because she wasn’t foolish enough to let herself believe that the man before her felt a single thing besides irritation and general disdain for her.

After a tense moment of silence that left Jack feeling rather vulnerable, she finally spoke.

“I think you’re so bitter because now you won’t let yourself have anything,” Marsha dared to add, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the conversation. “You’re allowed to admit that you would ratherhave a full life than the empty one you’re living now.”

“Mmhm,” Jack nodded, but the other shoe had yet to drop. “Yeah, I would much rather take a page out of your book and just walk around with my heart on my sleeve, ready for the taking,” he began sarcastically, utterly making a mockery of her naïve lifestyle. “Open myself up to everything and just shrug it off when it all gets threatened?”

“I-” Marsha began, but Jack was on a roll now.

“Look around yourself, Marsha,” he said harshly. “You sit alone night after night in a military base. How are you doing any better than I am?” He watched as her eyes widened in surprise at his hurtful words. “Where’s your family? Where’s your husband, your kids, where’s your life?”

“At least I let myself feel!” Marsha finally spoke up for herself, raising her voice to match his tone. “I don’t live like some robot incapable of emotion!”

“Oh, I’m the robot?” Jack nodded. “You live the same goddamn day, over and over again! Wake up at the crack of dawn, go to work, work through lunch, work through dinner, go to bed late. Do it all over again the next day.”

He shook his head but continued.

“So, don’t pretend that I’m some miserable sob story while you’re out here living a perfect fairy tale life,” he said bitterly. “At least I can say that I don’t want the things that I don’t have, which is more than you can say for yourself.”

It was harsh, it was cruel, and it came out before he could even think to filter it. But it was true.

All Marsha had ever wanted, her entire life, was a home. A home that accepted her, that she felt safe in, with people that cared about her. Her own family had never made her feel welcome, and cast her aside as the black sheep. The freak who they could never quite understand.

When her parents passed and her siblings were all scattered, she really lost all semblance of a home and family that she had ever known. Since then, she’d been searching for that safety in every avenue of her life, and hadn’t yet found it. Trailer parks with other wayward foster kids, the back of her own car, a doublewide with a man who disguised himself as a boy. Dorm rooms, apartments, hotel rooms, and now a military facility.

She wanted somebody to love, and somebody that loved her. Properly, just once. Someone who wouldn’t turn on her, someone who wouldn’t stray in search of better things, and preferably someone who wouldn’t drop dead out of the blue. She really didn’t think it was too much to ask for. Children would have been a dream come true for her, but according to her doctor, that hadn’t ever been in the cards for her, even if she found a man who wanted a family.

No partner, few friends, no children, no home. And now, it was all rubbed in her face. To be entirely fair, she had exhibited a perfect case of the pot calling the kettle black. Jack was right – he had no desire to share his life with anybody. That already put him at the advantage.

When he saw the pain in her eyes that she was now trying desperately to hide, Jack realized two things.

Firstly, that he had stepped over the line.

The two of them were famous for walking a hundred and one different fine lines. They constantly toed the line between casual conversation and bitter argument. That went hand in hand with the fine line between what was on the table and what was not during one of those conversations or arguments. They were the fine line between a professional partnership and a real friendship. The line between a flirtatious aside and a step too far. They were one big fine line. Constantly teetering on a tightrope.

And secondly, that he was giving new meaning to the word anti-hero.

Perhaps Jack was so desperate to prove to people that he was no longer the hero in this story that he was willing to become the villain in order to sell his point thoroughly. Maybe Marsha and her big hopes and expectations would just have to be the collateral damage in that particular affair.

Though his words had wounded her, Jack hadn’t said anything that she had not already considered. None of this was new to her. Marsha knew that her career may have taken flight in ways beyond her wildest dreams, and because of that, she had sacrificed her personal life. It was hard to meet people when you worked in a confidential military lab five days a week, and couldn’t even reveal your true occupation to those from the outside world. How was she supposed to meet someone and fall in love unless it was another person right there in the facility. And so far, that hadn’t gone so well for her.

Luckily, she had thick skin. And she did not back down from a fight.

“I never said anything about myself, Jack,” her voice was more steadied now, less emotional, and she turned around to walk back towards the living room, where she grabbed her shoes and took them into her hands. “All I meant was that there are certain things that a person shouldn’t just go the rest of their life without all for the sake of avoiding any risks.”

“Yeah?” Jack scoffed, following behind her.

He already knew what she was talking about. He wanted her to take those dangerous ideas and leave the room. So why was he still trailing her? Why was he about to ask a question that he already knew the answer to? Why did he want her to keep talking about the very thing that he vowed to avoid?

 “What would those things be?”

“Wh-” Marsha stuttered as she whipped back around to face him, surprised that he really didn’t know what she was talking about.

On second thought, that made total sense.

“You…god, you are so obtuse,” she muttered, “love, Jack!”

His stomach dropped at the sound of the word.

“Love for other people, love for what you’re doing with your life!” She listed, frustrated that she was trying to teach a robot how to feel. “Connection, happiness, joy, things and people that make life worth living!”

“Love?” Jack practically snarled in disgust.

He had written off that particular concept decades ago.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, as if he hadn’t seen it coming. “This isn’t Disneyland, Holloway.”

Marsha shook her head, irritated that he refused to take her words seriously. “Just because you insist on living in the past doesn’t stop the world from turning,” she added grimly, not taking kindly to his insults. “And you know what? You’re never going to get any younger, and one day you might just regret the amount of time that you’ve wasted.”

Jack made a sour face and shook his head, urging her to stop wasting her words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Actually, I do,” she corrected him, and Jack’s eyes darted back to her.

He didn’t know if she was referencing her own traumatic past or the fact that she was a psychologist. Reminding himself that he didn’t care, Jack bit his tongue as she went on.

“Have you ever stopped to think that I might just know a thing or two about moving on from traumatic experiences? About emotional healing and recovery? About how to help people get to better mental states so that they can improve their quality of life?”

Her eyes widened and narrowed as she spoke, referencing her career. Jack was almost surprised that she was choosing to approach this from a professional aspect after attacking him so personally.

“This is what I do for a living, Jack. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t good at it,” she added rather bitterly – sick and tired of his disrespect.

“So, what you – a world-renowned psychologist – are trying to tell me is that…” Jack shook his head halfway through, unable to comprehend the lunacy of it all.

He took a step closer to her, just to solidify his point.

“Love is going to cure all my problems?” He rolled his eyes. “Get real.”

Marsha gritted her teeth. She knew what he was trying to do.

“Healthy human connection is always a good thing,” she deadpanned, and took in a deep breath.

It was that breath that caught Jack’s attention and forced him to realize that perhaps the last step towards her had been a mistake. They were too close for comfort, and it had been all his doing.

“It’s not a miracle cure, I’m just saying that cultivating relationships is important. And maybe if you start letting people care about you, you’ll feel more comfortable reciprocating.”

“Are you charging me by the hour for this?” Jack nearly snarled, unappreciative of her clinical approach when he certainly had not asked for an evaluation.

Marsha let out a scoff and a grand roll of her eyes, physically restraining herself from tossing her arms out at her sides.

“Why do I even bother,” she sighed under her breath and moved towards the door at the front of the room. “You know,” she turned back to Jack in hopes of getting the last word to find him standing right in front of her. “I don’t know why you have to turn it into a fight every time I try to help you.”

He stared downwards at her and was thankful for a couple things. Her lack of height-enhancing shoes made it easy to look down on her, and the darkness of the room prevented her eyes from sparkling and threatening a falter on his part.

Marsha felt her breath catch in her throat when she realized how close they were now standing, thanks to the pinch in her neck she experienced due to the craning. She could feel the breath from his nose on her forehead.

Jack was so much taller than her. Even with the shoes on, she was straining herself to make his eye contact, but now the difference was accentuated. Funnily enough, she’d never really liked tall men, she liked to be able to look her partners in the eyes and not have to worry about someone all that much bigger than her. But in this moment, his height did not deter her.

He was close enough so that she could smell whatever kind of aftershave or cologne he used. It was clean, it was fresh, it was subtle, not too overpowering, and it was rather intoxicating. His arms were still large, she noted as he crossed them over his chest, and she couldn’t help but stare at the tattoo atop the muscular biceps making him look somewhat dangerous, and ridiculously attractive. Even at the height of their argument.

Marsha knew that she should have been thinking about how his avoidant attachment personality style was affecting and sabotaging those around him, but instead all she could consider was the fact that his eyes were bluer than she previously thought, even beneath the dim lights of the lounge.

They were turbulent, like a miserable storm out on the ocean when the sky and sea seem to fade together amid the wind and foam. They held so many secrets, so many hidden emotions that he refused to let surface, so much unbridled passion that she was not prepared to see from him.

His lips looked soft in contrast to the stubbled goatee around his chin, and Marsha could not stop herself from wondering what it would be like if those lips came crashing into her own in a fit of passion. She tried not to stare at them, but she was certain that her eyes had darted down to Jack’s lips at least a couple times, and all she could do was hope to god that lust had not clouded in her eyes for him to see.

She swallowed dryly and met his eyes to see that his face had changed. Jack had indeed picked up on the sudden palpable tension between them as she stared up at him with those dangerous doe eyes. He had intended on taking advantage of her lowered inhibitions tonight and starting an argument that he might actually win for once. He had not been expecting this.

Typically, there was that a decent sized amount of discretion between the two of them. He would flirt, she would put up a wall. She would find some sneaky way to flirt with him, and he would be sure to prevent himself from falling for any of her charms. They would never cross that fine line and do anything that could easily and obviously be described as reciprocated flirting, so that they could always just plead the fifth when it came down to it. Call it unrequited – most would just call it stupid.

Tonight, there was no getting around that look in her eyes, nor the feeling that he currently had in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time that a woman had looked at him that way, perhaps he had never experienced it, actually. No, this felt new.

His nose longed to bury itself in her hair while he whispered in her ear, his fingertips tingled with the desire to reach out and touch her waist, his lips burned with the anticipation of finding hers.

He was already close enough that a passerby might consider him to be rather pushing her up against the wall, but the lack of physical connection between the two of them provided a hint of innocence. He wanted to take her hips and shove her right up against that door behind her, to crash his lips down upon hers and only come up for air when things grew hazy. But wouldn’t that be counterintuitive at this point? After everything that he said? It certainly wouldn’t drive his point home, that was for sure.

Marsha’s breath began to tremble when she noticed him staring at her lips, and she had to physically fight the urge to reach up and brush a hand against his chest, perhaps grab a fistful of his shirt. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest and she realized with a start that she could no longer feel her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining them moving closer together or if it was really happening, but sparks began to fly as the tension came to a head between them.

What was happening? She could not understand how they could go from spitting vile words and hateful speeches at one another, to standing in a near embrace, heaving over one another’s lips. As Marsha’s mind began to swirl with such questions, Jack faced a few of his own.

How did they get there? He knew how, but why? This wasn’t part of the plan. Wasn’t in his cards. This wasn’t what he wanted, it’s only how he felt in this moment.

All at once, the rage was back.

Jack was grateful for that, as it served to stop his body from taking over the gaps that his mind neglected to fill in for.

She was manipulating him – that was the conclusion that he forced himself to come to. She disliked the idea of him coming out on top during their argument tonight, she clearly hadn’t much left tonight in terms of offense or defense, and this was her last resort. A temptress beneath a dim fluorescent light.

She was trying to seduce him, to lower his defenses, to sneak past his inhibitions and work his way under his skin using her physical facets and charming allure. He hadn’t expected it from her, especially after her constant deflection of his flirtatious advances all last week, but he should have been prepared for her to strike from all avenues.

Marsha felt her stomach drop as Jack gave her a suspicious look followed by a deep, disapproving frown. No explicit words were needed for her to realize that he was suddenly disgusted by himself for even daring to get so close to her, and she only hoped that he did not rub salt in the wound as he continued to come to his senses.

Nonetheless, Jack watched as she let out the breath that she had been holding in, and a flush arose to her cheeks. To her credit, she did not look as though she was lying or putting on a show of any kind. She looked awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassed by herself. She looked like a woman who had just been on the verge of kissing the villainous colleague that she would otherwise remain professional around.

Her reaction was not adding up to the conclusion that he had drawn about her in his head. And that was why he had to remove himself. Even if he was incorrect about her deceitfulness and she had been as caught up in the moment as he was, he could not take the chance. Especially then, he could not take the chance.

Jack shook his head slowly as a chill fell upon the room.

“Don’t try to get inside my head,” he practically growled, and cast his hand out as he moved back towards the door that she was still inadvertently blocking with her body.

Luckily, as it opened outwards, she did not have to move for him to be able to brush past her and get himself through the door and out of the room.

“It’s too dark for you, sweetheart,” he sneered with a rough edge to his voice.

The way that he had gotten close to her once more before uttering those last grotesque words was just cruel, and somewhere deep down, they both knew that. Regardless, Jack let the door fall shut behind him and Marsha took in a shuddering breath as she tried to regain her composure before she had to make the cold trek back to her room alone.

[the-knights-of-rohan]

22/100 days of productivity.

Today was a very busy day. Had a lab in physics, as well as a long problem set, and I've been assigned 3 different projects/long writing assignments over the weekend :"|

(Call me Old Mex the way I got that yellow tint.)

Today’s productivity:

Did AP Physics homework on Kinetic Energy & Work

Did AP Physics online lab

Did some more AP Statistics practice FRQs to prepare for the test on experimental design.

Worked on a simple game for my AP Stats teacher to easily and reliably measure hand-eye coordination in p5.js

Read a chapter of The Namesake, seems interesting right now.

Spent an hour flashcarding for Japanese 4 new chapter vocab

Self Care:

Had some pumpkin spice biscotti with my coffee today

Spent an entire two hours after coming home doing nothing but lounging around. Felt great.

Future Goals:

Study for 2 tests in the coming weeks; AP Statistics (Experimental Design) and AP Physics (Friction and Drag)

Keep preparing for college interview (僕はスペインにいる。スは静かだ。)

Start working on AP Literature story section due next week, as well as reading/notes on another chapter of The Namesake.

Start working on US Government personal experience paragraph due Monday

Start working on US Government project due after Thanksgiving break.

Song of the day:

Name: Dmitri

Album: Lamb Over Rice

Artists: Action Bronson & The Alchemist

[legallysoup]

11.03.24 - monday, lundi, mandag 20/30 of 30 days of productivity

wheeeeee

things i did today:

🌼got my physics results back (they weren't the best but i was a very hard test) 🌼started a project ppt 🌼documentary analysis task thingie 🌼continued my art project 🌼got my art results (did much better)

things i will do tomorrow:

🍃code 🍃ppt task

things i did for me today:

🌧️journaled + planned 🌧️went swimming for a bit 🌧️washed my hair

day twenty: how productive do you think you were this week?

not very ngl lmao but it is what it is 🤷🤷

i slept in today and panicked so hard lmfao

goodnight! -tay <3

[academicvalidation4life]

monday, march 4th 2024

today I had a long day at school, with 11 lessons from 7:00-17:40. I had a few electives and also a mini physics quiz. although it was a very tiring day, I advanced on much of the content and had some interesting lessons! I was planning on going to the gym, but I ended up getting home very late, so, instead, I had dinner, showered and got started on my studies. I'm revising for three tests: tomorrow I have chemistry and physics, and on Thursday I have biology. the content is too extensive, however, there are a lot of formulas and a few things that are tricky to memorise.

I spent about 30 minutes working on a new project for my after-school club, and I'm really happy with the results! really excited to share it with the rest of the school.

I've got a long week ahead of me and, on Saturday, I'll spend the morning at school taking a mock. yet, I'm really excited because I'll get to see a few friends I haven't seen in a while!

trying to fit in enough sleep, rest, exercise and healthy meals has been a bit of a stretch, but I'm doing my best.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update June 2, 2023

Made great progress on storyboards, not much else.

I have been a bit staved for cash and have been attempting to donate my plasma, which I have struggled with due to my heart rate (also new personal high today: 134). I have seen a doctor and the results of my blood test are as of yet inconclusive, so while it is likely just normal anxiety for someone my age, it is also possible there is a physical issue, which will likely not be known for sure until Monday. This has cost me much time and energy, explaining my low output.

I attempted to do one storyboard shot per day this week, which I am falling behind on due to the aforementioned medical hiccup. I was still able to complete more than average, and will continue to push on days I am not exceedingly busy (which I had two of this week).

I wanna push for artfight, which is next month, but I’d need to get thumbnails for the O’Malley kids and Unit 624, as well as more general pictures for Unit 624. As of right now I am planning to limit myself to those characters. I’d love to treat artfight like a daily challenge thing like Inktober, but I am unsure how much stamina I will have by that point, as well as how distracted I may be with other projects (mainly TRGA).

Also Speaking of Inktober I sketched out some of the Inktober 52 prompts I’m behind on since I was away from my computer today and only had my sketchbook. I’ll get caught up yet!

I do have other projects I want to start that may be better to work on while my stamina is low, though I’m hesitant. I’ll keep with TRGA for now, hope I get whatever’s wrong with my heart rate fixed so I can go buckwild on artfight, it seems like a good place to make friends and mutuals.

[random2908]

I got my first work assignments! Other than spending most of the first day on paperwork, and spending 2.5 hours shadowing the project lead in the lab on Wednesday afternoon, I’ve just been reading all week. That was fine for the first few days but by yesterday it was already getting pretty repetitive.

But this afternoon they gave me real stuff to do!

First assignment: write a little program to automate a piece of test equipment so that it’ll actually log data. (Right now they’re looking at the screen every few minutes and hand-writing a pair of numbers in their lab notebooks.) I’m going to add in a feature where it graphs the data as it’s logged, so that people can have a visual representation of changes as they happen. I got about halfway through this today--basically as far as I could get while someone else was using the relevant equipment.

Second assignment: when they make a new device and turn it on for the first time, they need a physicist and electrical engineer pair to interpret the start-up signals. Because some of the signals might come from issues with the electronics and some of the signals come from real physics that needs to be set up and calibrated. So on Monday they want me to be the physicist in that pair (basically because everyone else is either too busy or--the other new physicist--too junior to do it unsupervised), and to learn what the electrical engineer is doing so that it can be done by a single person (me) in the future. (It’s nearly always much easier to teach a physicist the engineering than to teach an engineer the physics, just because of what is and isn’t included in our respective educations.)

Third maybe assignment: talk to the software engineer about his automation projects and see if he wants a collaborator on the more physics-y parts. Apparently I have enough automation-software engineering experience (??) that this is probably worthwhile.

So, uh, I don’t necessarily love that two of the three are software projects--but I’m also not surprised, it’s much easier to put a new person on a software project, and for a physicist who’s allergic to coding I actually am particularly experienced in automation so I knew there was a chance I’d be tapped for that. (I guess my first assignment is also technically automation, on a very small scale.) I told the project lead that I’m fine with it as long as I don’t get type-cast as a software person. And I’m excited to get to do anything!

[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

[glass-expanse]

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!

I've been 19 for a week and a day now and everything is going so much better than it was before.

All of May and June, I was deep in the trenches of depression and suicidal ideation. My 19th birthday, the evil voices were abruptly and miraculously gone. I had spent the day before stressed over scheduling an wanting to die and I broke down and just sobbed to God and told Him I couldn't fight for my life anymore and that He would have to fight for me. Just like Psalm 40 says, He heard my cry for help, He brought me up from the desolate pit, He took me out of the muddy clay, and now He is being faithful to set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure. I certainly wasn't good at waiting patiently, but His mercy is more than my failings!

By His grace, I have taken on the challenge to get back into the Word. I started studying Psalm 103 today and it's every reminder that I needed for the past several months. My relationship with God, while still weak after battling depression, hasn't had the chance to be strengthened like this in months.

A little over a year ago, I got sicker than I have ever been in my whole life. I had Covid and Heatstroke at the same time. I started manifesting symptoms of Covid on my 18th birthday-- I was extremely exhausted and blamed it on stress and the hard job I had splitting myself between camp riding lessons, farm riding lessons, trail rides, camp events, and my camp cabin. Sunday I came to the staff meeting at 0 energy level. Monday I was so depressed and felt so ill that I had to skip catching. I slept through breakfast. It was supposed to rain, but instead the entire farm was choked by a thick glistening haze of humidity. Because of the rain prediction, I had on a long sleeve (light colored) shirt.

I was so weak I couldn't project my voice and had to thrust my assistant into the thick of learning how to explain concepts in the order I gave them to him. Water cups came and I sank to me knees. I had to get through my trail ride-- it was my first chance to ride a horse I'd had my eye on for so long. 17 hands tall. 5 years old. I trust him with my life. Because I white knuckled that saddle horn for dear life, praying I wouldn't pass out. I was too week to even telephone directions for a crooked saddle up the line.

Halfway through, I feel like I need a sub. Call my assistant who is leading. He says hang in there, we're almost back. I cling to consciousness. One of my best friends sees that I'm pale and out of it, springs off the manure spreader tractor, fixes my student's saddle, and leads me in by the reins.

After a chiropractor appointment I guzzled water and powerade all afternoon and talk to my fellow on the phone. I didn't feel any better by dinner so I went to the nurse. Fever. Sick. I drive home in a daze and lie in bed for the next week, too weak to even stand in the shower.

For this past year, I have suffered from fatigue, heat sensitivity, and as time went on, serious pain in every single major joint and bone of my body save my skull. Shoulders, elbows, wrists, forearms, upper arms, back, hips, femurs, knees, shins, ankles, feet, hands... You name it, any physical activity made it hurt.

I couldn't do anything I loved to do. I couldn't even work a 16 hour workweek without being totally sapped each day. things only seemed to get worse, especially as warm weather returned. I had finally given up after two weeks of a diet that only made things worse.

And then, I took a course of iv*rm*ctin. Just a children's course. During the course, I still had pain... But after... It was gone! Praise God! The first improvement I had seen in a year of taking tests, seeing doctors, taking supplements, changing diets, trying rest, trying working, trying everything short of steroids. Finally, finally! I have improved!

And today, today has been so exciting! I spent 2+ hours in direct sunlight... carried two water buckets... cut and arranged not one but TWO full size bouquets... picked berries... measured and remeasured a 60x48 area... mucked out the chicken coop a bit... planked for 30 seconds... and walked a ton. And then, after that, I didn't go inside! I stayed on the porch in part sun part shade until 6:00 or so just talking with company we had over! Staying outside in 90 degree heat! Me! Indefinitely! With no issue!

I'm sore... but in my muscles. I'm tired... but I don't feel the endless black maw of fatigue. And the sun burned my face and arms but it didn't feel like it was hitting me like a mallet anymore. I'm still working on water intake, but. This. Is. Phenomenal. Praise God for His healing!

What's next? Well, I'm praying over my plans. What I would like to do is this. Help instruct camp lessons for the final month of camp. Then after that get a job at a flower shop as the working students return to school. And while I do that, continue to build back into riding and instructing by forging a connection with a new barn where I can be mentored as an instructor. Then this fall, attend a CHA clinic to become an officially certified instructor. And someday soon as I grow in these areas, find myself a couple roommates and buy myself a project horse to expand my marketable skills.

How can you be praying? Well, my largest request would be for patience. I have been so impatient for the past year. I know I tend to be impatient with my body, my abilities, and my goals. So while I can taste the future now, I know thag I still have to be gentle with my body as it returns to being a properly usable meatsuit lol. Also wisdom, that I would know the difference between creating my own doors and going through open ones. For humility, that I may submit my heart, mind, life, plans, and freedom fully to God. That He would make His will for my life clear and that I would have the humility to accept that. For boldness, that I would seek out wise counsel rather than avoiding it out of fear.

Blessed be the name of the Lord... the trials of the past year are yielding fruit, driving me closer to God, helping me support others... This is only the beginning. Even if my health stays here forever, even if it gets worse again, I know God still has a purpose for me and that He's not done with me yet. He can do anything. His will shall come through in my life, He'll make sure of it. I may not know for certain what the next step is, but I know that God is there and I have to take the responsibility to learn His Word so that I may discern the path ahead.

Jesus loves me so much. He gave mercy to Peter, who denied Him thrice over. He has given mercy to me. No matter how far I wander, I know I am in the hand of the most high God of heaven and earth, and I know that nothing can take me away from that, not even myself! My hope is in the sanctified of Christ, that I will continue to grow closer to God despite any setbacks.

Soli Deo Gloria

[dreamescapeswriting]

Living Hell ~ MYG [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 4.2K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

↬↬↬Pairing: Min Yoongi X Gender Neutral Reader

The internship of a lifetime is what everyone was calling it but you called it your living hell, every day was a whole new way for Min Yoongi to torture you and make you want to quit doing the things you loved but you kept pushing on despite the feeling of wanting to give up. You weren't going to let someone push you aside like that even if it was every day. 

"Y/n!" You looked up from your pad of paper in front of your face to see Namjoon and Yoongi walking towards you, Namjoon had a smile on his face as he walked towards you questioning you on how your song was coming along. Every week BigHit set a task for the winners of the internship to work on songs and present them at the end of the week, 

"Really well," You kept it brief since Yoongi was giving you a death glare that you're sure would kill you given half of the chance but then again you were sure Yoongi would kill you given half the chance. The first time you met him you were sure it was just because you were new to the team and he wasn't sure on you but as time passed and he grew colder to you the more you realised he actually just hated you. 

"Did you hear me?" Namjoon questioned waving his hand in front of your face, you were staring off down into the hallway as though no one had been standing right in front of you. 

"Stupid little child," Yoongi mumbled pushing past you and walking towards his studio, you looked at Namjoon. 

"Sorry I was just thinking of some lyrics." You lied trying to pretend you hadn't heard Yoongi mumbling under his breath, it was something you were used to by now. 

"They have a competition coming up in a few days, they're going to select a few of you to do some work within a limited amount of time. I'm not supposed to tell you but I figured you could use the heads up." You thanked him while he walked off to his own studio, you stayed in the hall jotting down some lyrics to a song you'd been working on in the back of your notebook. Nothing that was ready to be heard yet but it was there if you ever needed something to work on.

"Y/n?! Are you done?" You glanced over at Yoongi who was standing with his head in the door of his studio, 

"Yes." You whispered walking over to him to see what he wanted this time, 

"Good. I need you to go and get all this for me, you'll be able to find it easily enough." He handed you a sheet of paper with a bunch of useless items on it, it looked like he was just trying to send you on a wild goose chase. 

"Why can't you do this yourself-"

"I'd be nicer to me if I were you, I'm the one that's going to be judging your work next week." He licked his bottom lip as he watched you stand up straight at the mention of him being one of the judges for the competition, 

"Then you understand that I need to work on my own things instead of yours..." You were doing your best to be kind to him, you'd been brought up to be kind to everyone you met. Treat people the way that you wished to be treated but Min-Fucking-Yoongi made that extraordinarily difficult for you to be nice to him with everything he was putting you through. 

Since day one he'd made it clear he had a strong dislike for you but you had no idea why. You'd been nothing but kind to everyone that worked in BigHit and Yoongi had been one of your inspirations so it was difficult to have someone you'd idolised for so long hate you without truly knowing who you were. 

"Listen, if you want to make it in this industry I suggest you do what I ask of you." He pushed the piece of paper into your chest and you hurried out of his studio, going to get your car keys from the small office you had been assigned on your first day.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that there is a competition coming up. This will be the final test for the interns." Bang PD was speaking clearly as he looked over everyone in the room, all of the interns were sitting in front of the room watching him closely and listening for what they had to do. 

"I expect to see work from each of you by next week. People will be leaving us so let this be a warning if your work is anything less than what we expect you'll be forced to leave and your contract will be terminated with us." Swallowing the lump in your throat you wrote down what he was expecting from you all, the types of songs he wanted and how many. You were sure if you put your mind to it you'd be able to get everything he wanted from you and more, the thought of losing this opportunity physically hurt your chest when you'd done nothing but work towards it for years. It had been your dream since you could remember to work with music and BigHit was one of the leading companies that you'd wanted since you were 16. Nothing was going to stop you from working hard to keep this job.

A week passed and you'd tortured yourself trying to keep up with everything, Yoongi had you running around after him like you were his own personal maid. Treating you like a coffee maid instead of a producer who was working within the same industry as him. The only time you got to work on your own music was when it was late into the night and you were locked up in your studio, forcing yourself to stay awake until the unholy hours just to get at least one song done. You were ahead of an intern you knew but you didn't feel it was enough.

Today you were supposed to be working on the final song that would make your work stand out, a song about hardship and pushing through everything someone was throwing at you - you hadn't even noticed you'd written the song about Yoongi, as far as you saw it it was just a song about someone else going through a hard time. Your phone buzzed from beside you as you were about to lay your vocal track down,

[Yoongi]: Need your help in the studio, please.

The emoji he'd sent wasn't like Yoongi at all, a pleading face with a please at the end? It wasn't like Yoongi at all. Yoongi never said please, ever. Maybe he'd finally realised how much he'd pushed you this week and was trying to say sorry for it. You locked your desktop up taking your phone with you towards his studio, it was just up the hallway from yours so you wondered what the big deal could have been when you heard a crash coming from inside his room. 

"Yoongi?!" You panicked pushing open the door to see him standing in the corner of his room with a look of fear across his face, you glanced over at the shelves that were now hanging from the wall, one of them still swinging as it held onto the bracket in the wall. 

"What happened?" Your voice came out shaky and nervous as you stared at them in horror, everything looked like it was broken but repairable or in desperate need of a trip to the trash cans. 

"I was working and they just fell- You didn't do a good job on them!" He snapped at you pointing his finger in your direction, you turned to him. He was bringing this around to you? How had this been your fault when it was his office?

"Yoongi I didn't even install the shelves so would you like to explain how it's my fault?!" You lost your temper for a second but squeezed your thumb between your middle finger and ring finger to try and calm yourself down, bring yourself back to reality where he was your boss and not someone you should talk to that way. Even if he had done nothing but belittle you all week into doing stupid tasks for him. Monday it was running around stores for him to look for a certain writing paper, Tuesday he had you working on his tracks as well as cleaning his shoes, Wednesday he wanted the shelves cleaning so that's what you had done, Thursday he wanted you to take his car to get details and the list went on until today, Friday, the final day you had to work on your own things and you'd done nothing but run around after him like his own personal assistant - who he had you fire because she was 'incompetent' and he couldn't stand her working for him anymore. 

"I asked you to clean everything up there the other day so it's clearly your fault." He spat at you, you looked down at the floor to see shards of broken glass everywhere on the floor. If he wasn't careful he could seriously hurt himself and the thought alone made you anxious, 

"Whatever, I-I'll clean it up." You stuttered out not wanting to have a huge fight about it. Maybe it had to have been your fault you knew you'd cleaned up the shelves the other week but nothing you could have done would have caused the brackets to fall out of the wall the way they had. 

"Can you get me-" You went to asked him to get the dust-pan and brush but he was already out of the room and talking into his phone about something, 

"Fuck." You whispered standing up from the floor and going to find the things you needed yourself. 

"How's your project coming along Y/n?" Jungkook asked as he followed you up towards Yoongi's studio, he'd seen you walking through the building looking for something so he decided to come along with you. 

"I heard Yoongi-Hyung called you to his studio, seems like you guys have gotten really close over the last week." He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck as you walked, you laughed nervously. Everyone had noticed how close you worked with Yoongi but no one had noticed how he was treating you because whenever someone else was around it was as if he was a new person, acting like someone you'd known for years and not someone who was using you to get his own way.

"You could say that." It wasn't in you to bad mouth another person behind their back so you kept your mouth shut and opened the door to the studio, Jungkook's mouth hung open as he walked inside behind you looking around at everything. He was about to step further into the room when your arm reached across his chest to stop him from going any further into the room. 

"Careful there's bits of glass everywhere." You muttered nonchalantly to him as you got down onto your hands and needs to start cleaning everything up as quickly as possible.  

"What happened?" He asked looking at the shelves he frowned staring at them, 

"Yoongi was working when they fell," He scoffed at the word fell and walked over to them being careful not to step on anything that was on the floor but he ran he fingers over the holes in the walls. They hadn't fallen at all, they'd been ripped from the wall anyone could see that. He glanced down at everything at the floor and back up to the shelf as he tried to calculate something in his head, Yoongi had removed everything from the shelves and ripped them down before throwing everything onto the floor but why?

"What did Yoongi say happened?" He was sitting next to you now picking up big shards of glass and putting them into the bin beside you, 

"That he was working when they fell." He nodded looking at your face as you concentrated on not hurting yourself, 

"How much work do you have left to do?" He was sure this was nothing to do with your work and he was imagining things but Yoongi had been off lately but this wasn't like the Yoongi he'd known all these years. Why would Yoongi smash up his own things just to get you to stop working? 

"Not much, I have one song to finish and I'm done, I'll have it finished by presentation time tomorrow." You lied. You'd only have it finished if you stayed late again tonight - by staying late you meant falling asleep on the sofa in your office. 

When you finally made it back to your studio that night you were exhausted, you'd cleaned up every small fragment of glass you could find before you went on the hunt for photo frames that looked exactly like the ones that Yoongi had had on the shelves. You'd even gone to DIY stores to get filler for the walls, filling in the holes waiting for them to dry while you fixed up awards with glue you'd picked up. 

"Yoongi? What are you doing in here?" You asked tiredly as you saw Yoongi sitting on the sofa in your studio, his feet kicked up on the sofa as he looked at you. 

"I came to tell you about your work but you weren't here so I figured I'd wait for you." You frowned at him dropping the bag of rubbish outside the door for the night cleaners to come by and take, 

"What about my work?" You looked at the desktop in your studio to see that it was bluescreened, the sad sarcastic face that windows always had whenever a computer did this was evident on the screen. 

"What the fuck!?" You screamed rushing over to it, tapping on the keyboard to try and get anything to work, 

"It's alright, you backed everything upright?" He questioned smugly looking as you pulled out a USB stick from the back of the PC but it was snapped leaving the metal fragments inside of the computer. Your heart was pounding against your chest and tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about everything that was on the computer and USB drive. Yoongi smirked from behind you as you began to cry silently into your hands, he knew you weren't going to say anything to him so he turned to leave when you finally broke down. 

"Why?" You whimpered turning to look at him, tears were streaming down your face as he locked eyes with you. His chest panged with guilt as he saw the broken look across your face, 

"Why do you hate me so much?!" You questioned looking at him and then at the computer, 

"I've done nothing but work my ass off since I got here! But yet you treat me like I'm nothing, why? What did I ever do to you that was so bad?!" You were yelling, Yoongi had never even heard you talk above your normal tone before and it was shocking to have you yelling at him now. He felt bad. 

"Y/n-"

"No, don't ''Y/n'' me. Answer me, what did I ever do to you? You know, Jungkook told me that you probably ripped down those shelves but I've spent my whole day fixing everything for you, putting them back up and making sure they're level. Replacing everything you smashed up, cutting up my hands." You mumbled showing him your plastered covered hands. 

"Do you want me to quit? Because if so you got what you wanted." You were calmer now which scared Yoongi even more than when you were yelling, you grabbed your bag from the back of the door and walked away from him. 

"I quit. You can have the honours of letting everyone know for me." You walked out of the hallway and onto the staircase of the BigHit building falling onto the step and clutching onto the railing as you sobbed into your hands about everything he'd put you through over your time there.

Yoongi made his way back to his studio looking around, everything was perfectly arranged the way he had it before he'd wrecked it all. The shelves were a little lower than they had been but the holes had to be covered somehow. The trophies he had on display were all fixed back together, you could hardly notice the cracks within them unless you knew they were there and the photographs were back in frames like the ones he owned. You'd done a brilliant job on everything and yet he'd treated you the way he did, he reached into his pocket to take out the real USB stick he'd taken from your computer with everything on it and he put it into his own computer loading everything up onto his system. 

"Yoongi?" He looked over his shoulder to see one of the night security men, 

"Yeah?"

"It's Y/n again Sir, we found them asleep on the steps, what should we do?" He sighed coming out of his office to see you asleep in the arms of another security guard. They'd found you like this a couple of times over the months of you working for BigHit and they always came to Yoongi since he'd told them to whenever they saw you asleep somewhere that wasn't your own studio. Yoongi had found you asleep on his sofa one night and carried you to yours so that you could get some decent sleep. 

"Take them to their studio," He mumbled walking behind them as they carried you towards your room. They laid you down before leaving and he stared at you, the way your brows furrowed together as you dreamt about something you didn't like,

"Yoongi go away," You whimpered in your sleep and he sighed running his hand along your cheek using his thumb to caress your skin as he realised he was the bad thing you were dreaming about.

Groaning as you woke up the next morning you looked around you to see you were in your office, your computer still had the patronising sad face over the screen that made you want to put your fist through the screen just so it would go away. You sat up on the sofa to see a blanket had been laid across your body, a glass of water and orange juice was on the table along with a note. 

Meet me in my studio - Yoongi 

You scoffed at the note throwing it into the bin and running your hairs through your hair, you opted out of drinking the drinks he'd left you and headed to the mirror in your room to try and make yourself look at least a little presentable and not that you'd spent the night on your studio sofa which wasn't even your studio anymore. You were going to quit. You weren't going to take it anymore. Throwing the door open you made you way down the hall ignoring Yoongi's door as you passed it heading straight to Bang PD instead of going to Yoongi like he'd asked of you. 

"You're telling me you're quitting?" Bang PD asked as he looked up from the work on his desk, he was marking through papers with his glasses pressed up against his face, 

"Yes Sir, I know it's short notice but my work, there was an accident with my computer and it's gone. To save a lot of hassle I decided to quit that way you won't have to fire any competent interns." The door to his office opened and closed, Yoongi stood behind you panting heavily. 

"They're not quitting Sir, they're just tired." He was breathing heavily and PD put his pen down onto the table sighing as he watched the both of you bicker back and forth about quitting, 

"Don't let them quit," Yoongi spoke louder than you could and you stared at him as he stepped in front of you and began ranting quickly as though he was rapping,

"Their PC was corrupted last night and I have their original work on a USB stick, there's no need to fire Y/n or let them quit so please just...Don't let them, it's my fault all of this happened, Sir. I took everything Y/n was working on and it's ready for your viewing in the main presentation room."

Bang PD had reviewed everything on the CD while you stayed silent listening to yourself singing on the tracks along with Jungkook and Jimin who were included in some of the songs. 

"This is exceptional work Y/n." Bang PD said as he turned around to face you on the chair, 

"I won't stop you from quitting if it is something you want to do but from what I've heard we would be at a loss without you on our team." You stared down at the floor nodding along to what he was saying, 

"I'll give you some time to think things over," He patted your back leaving you and Yoongi alone in the room, as soon as the door shut you turned to him. 

"Do you think this would fix anything between us? That you presenting my work as if everything was fine would be okay!? Are you fucking-" You were cut off when his lips touched yours, his hands pressed on the back of your head to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widened as you realised you were kissing him, slowly they began to flutter shut as you leant into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were kissing Min Yoongi...You were kissing Min Yoongi?! The guy that had made your life hell. You pushed him away from you and shook your head, tearing up as you thought about it. 

"Are you actually insane?!" You spat at him glaring at him as he smirked wiping his lips with his hand, 

"I think that's the best kiss I've ever had, come here-"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, you're deluded if you think that is ever going to happen." As much as you wanted it to it wasn't something that could happen again, 

"You've done nothing but make my life a living hell since I started here, why did you- Why would you-" There were too many questions to ask in such a short time span that you just took in sharp breaths trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, I know I call you dumb Y/n but I don't mean it." He chuckled walking over to you again, he raised his hand to your cheek but you didn't move away you snuggled your face against it. Your whole body felt warm from the small interaction and he chuckled feeling your cheeks heat up and watched as you skin began to glow, 

"You like me and I like you, what's the big deal?" You moved away from him yet again, 

"The big deal is that you've done nothing but make my life hell, you made me think my work was gone and then magically think it's going to be fixed because I got to keep my job?" You asked him raising an eyebrow at him if he really thought that this was all going to be some magically happy ending he was wrong things like that only happened in the movies.

"Y/n please, I was- I was intimidated by you and you working so hard it scared me...I thought if I could push you down a little and make you work less I wouldn't have to be afraid." You rolled your eyes at the excuse he was spilling out to you and you went to leave the room but his hand was placed on top of yours, you would be lying if you said you didn't feel something there. It was as if there was a huge electric shock running throughout your entire body whenever he touched you.

"I like you, a lot, another reason I made you run around for me so I could see you more often than I normally would...It was wrong okay and I'm sorry but let me make it up to you. Don't run away from me." He pleaded with you, you turned to look at him and sighed. He looked sorry for everything he'd done and he was, he was terrified and felt guilty for everything he'd done. 

"Please."

"How?" You questioned folding your arms across your chest to seem more intimidating but mostly to get your hand away from his otherwise you were about to cave in to him right away. 

"I'll take you out, just us two. Away from all of this so I can prove how much I like you...Please?" You licked your lips pretending to think about it as if you didn't already have the answer 'yes' written in glowing lights above your head.

"Fine. One date and then we'll talk about it..." You whispered looking at him as he walked closer to you, pulling your hand into his and smiling softly. 

"I am truly sorry." He whispered kissing your lips softly as he stepped closer to you.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @taestannie @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @innersooya​ 

[charlie-boio]

I’m Here For You

Summary: Stiles has been avoiding you for a few weeks and you aren’t sure what’s wrong. Is this the end of your friendship?

Word Count: 3200

A/N: I enjoyed this little idea. Hope you do too. It’s pretty cute in my humble opinion. Also I based their high school schedule (like how long their classes last) off of where I graduated high school so I know it’s probs different but idc. Also I’m not super comfortable with how well written this is but I like it 😊

WARNINGS: angsty, but with some well deserved fluff

You took in a short breath, and then another. Your knees were starting to burn, the back of your throat felt like it had been scorched, and your head was pounding. The pain and nausea in your stomach wasn’t going away, but you thought that you didn’t have much left to throw back up. At this point, you were merely dry heaving.

These past few weeks have already been pretty much hell for you. For the past three weeks, Stiles had been bailing on your Friday movie nights, and last Friday was no exception. You didn’t even bother to text him and ask if he was coming, and apparently, he hadn’t cared.

Feeling the lowest you had ever felt in your life, you had just decided to melt into your bedding and binge watch cooking shows. What had started as a dull ache on Friday had taken a dramatic turn for the worse on Monday, and you simply could not catch a break with the pile on of essays, projects, and tests that your teachers handed you.

In all honestly, you could not catch a break. Never mind the slow burn of feelings that were building inside of you for Stiles, but now it appears you were also losing him as a friend. Which hurt…more than anything.

You shook your head, feeling yourself shudder. Standing on shaky legs, you flushed and went to rinse out your mouth.

“Just get through school,” you muttered. “Then you can go home and sleep this off.”

You finally left the bathroom and walked slowly towards your class, hand clutching desperately at your right side. Grimacing with each step, you opened the door and shuffled inside.

“About damn time! Get back in your seat y/l/n!” Coach Finstock barked at you, causing everyone’s eyes to snap up and pierce right through you. You shrunk into yourself more than you already were.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, walking carefully over to your seat without disturbing your side too much, which was a fruitless task. Sitting down, you looked over a Scott, whose eyebrows were furrowed together. Stiles didn’t bother looking up, his face buried in his notebook. You felt your heart break just a little more at the sight, so you forced a smile and whispered that you were okay, knowing that he could hear you. Scott’s eyebrows stayed knit together, but he turned away from and put his attention back on Coach’s lecture, letting the matters drop for now.

Coach’s class went by in a foggy haze, the occasional stabbing pain in your side brought you back to reality until the bell rang. Stiles jumped out of his seat and rushed out the door, not sparing you a glanced. Scott was close behind him, but not before sending you another worried look, to which you gave him a forced smile. His eyebrows furrowed, but he left anyways.

You moved slowly, face grimacing with each step. You couldn’t help your mind wandering to Stiles, imaging him helping you through the hallways to your next class. You two always used to walk together…

Shaking your head, you continued forth, barely managing to make it to your next class on time. Thankfully, you didn’t have another class with Stiles until after lunch, but you had this class with Lydia.

“y/n are you feeling okay?” Lydia asked, her face etched with concern.

“I’m fine, just a little nauseous, nothing to be worried about,” you said, but your wavering voice betrayed you. Lydia quirked up an eyebrow and pressed the back of her hand to your forehead.

“You’re awfully warm sweetie. I know you said, ‘You’re fine,’ but maybe you should go home. Just in case,” she said sweetly.

“I can’t. My parents are out of town for their anniversary.”

“What about Stiles? He usually gives you a ride to school anyways right?” Not for two weeks, Not for two weeks, you thought sadly.

“Um-I-“

“Girls, pay attention please!” your teacher snapped at you two. You and Lydia mumbled your apologies. Thankfully, class went by without another opportunity for you to talk to Lydia, and when the bell rang, you two parted ways since her class was across the school.

You managed to get through your next two classes, trying to pay attention to your teachers and zone out the stabbing pain in your side, the pounding in your head, and the heavy weight in your heart. You were hoping and praying with all of your might that you could get through the rest of the day. You weren’t sure how the fuck you would get home, but you decided you’d cross that bridge when you got there.

If you get there, you thought miserably, but you quickly shook that thought from your head. You were overreacting, obviously. How could you be so stupid? You got your period on Saturday, and occasionally they could be a little extreme. 

*

“Stiles, you really didn’t have to do any of this…” you said sweetly, a small smile stamped on your face.

“Come on, kid. You’re my best friend, of course I’m gonna take care of you!” Stiles said, flashing you a toothy grin.

He had surprised you out of the blue, hearing that you had gotten your period and that it was kicking your ass this month. Stiles brought chocolate, popcorn, movies (Star Wars, obviously), blankets, one of his sweatshirts, sour patch kids, and a heating pad after you had complained that yours broke. He spent the next hour setting everything up and not allowing you to lift a finger despite your protests.

After settling down, you had tried to cuddle with him like you two usually do, but your cramps weren’t having it so you settled for having your head in his lap, the heating pad laid across your lower abdomen, blankets curled around both of you while Stiles continuously ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you.

“Any better?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,”

“Come on, kid. You don’t have to lie to me. Not ever…”

“It is better, since you came and helped me,” you turned your head slightly to look up at him, and you saw his swirling amber eyes looking down at you with adoration. You felt your heart skip a beat while you smiled at him.

Stiles leaned down quickly and placed a lingering kiss to your head. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you kid. Always,” he mumbled into your head.

You closed your eyes and sighed happily, his fingers resuming running through your hair. You could’ve died happily in his arms.

*

Bitter tears that burned your eyes welled up, threatening to fall at the memory. What did I do…? You thought miserably to yourself.

Closing your eyes, you shook your head, ridding yourself of both the tears and the memory. If you cried right now, the pounding in your head would only get even worse, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last like this.

Unfortunately, the bell rang for the end of fourth period, and fifth was lunch with the rest of the pack, including Stiles. You felt a pool of dread hit the bottom of your stomach. Stiles used to sit next you at lunch, cracking jokes back and forth with his sarcastic comments. Now, he sat as far away from as he could, and you had a feeling that today would be no exception.

Sure enough, walking into the cafeteria you saw all of your friends sitting together, happily chatting away. There was a seat saved for you on the far right while Stiles sat at the far left across the table from you, right next to Lydia. For once, it didn’t look like Stiles was drooling over her; instead they were quietly arguing about something, but you were too far away to hear what it was.

Still, you sat down and did your best to smile through the physical and mental pain of everything. However, your stomach had decided to dial up the pain a notch, making sure it was something you no longer could ignore. With each beat of your heart your head pounded louder and louder, the voices around you starting to fade.

Uh oh. This isn’t good I need to get out of here!

You tried to stand, legs wobbly, but the second you stood up your vision began to tunnel, your pain double by the second. You could vaguely hear Scott, and you felt the pack’s eyes on you.

“I need to…to…” you stuttered, and you felt your knees buckle as you sank to the floor. Before you could hit the ground hard, a pair of strong arms snaked around you, breaking your fall. You could vaguely hear someone scream for help.

Your breath hitched, ears ringing as you fell into darkness.

 *

“HELP! PLEASE SHE NEEDS HELP!” Stiles shouted through the hospital, nurses and doctors rushing over. You were in his arms bridal style after you had passed out in the cafeteria. He had managed to catch you before you could hit your head, and he had sprinted as fast as he could to his jeep to drive you to the hospital.

That was two hours ago, and there hadn’t been any word on y/n’s condition. Not even Melissa could tell them anything, and Stiles was getting tired of hearing ‘We are doing everything we can right now,’

“Stiles?” Scott asked gently.

For the first time in his life, he was still. Absolutely still. He didn’t fidget with his hands, bounce his knee, or even pace. He merely sat there; hands clasped together. He didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore; all he did was stare at the floor and just let every single one of his negative thoughts rush through his head.

“Stiles,” Scott said a little more forcefully. Stiles barely turned his head, his drawn low.

“Look I already know what you’re gonna say-“

“The ‘I’m Gonna Avoid Her So My Crush Can Go Away’ plan? The one that everyone thought was the stupidest idea ever?” Lydia interjected, having found about this plan at lunch.

“Stop it, okay? I get it!” Stiles snapped, then he sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known something was wrong. We’re best friends…she’s never gonna forgive me,” Tears lined Stiles’ eyes. Turns out he did have more to spare.

“Stiles, you and y/n are idiots,” Stiles’ head snapped up, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “You two have edging around a relationship for at least three years at this point, and each time you’ve both been like ‘Oh there’s no way they like me back!’ Seriously! I’m tired of hearing it,”

“Scott, what if it’s too late? We don’t know what’s going on-“

“Why am I not surprised that you’re all here?” Melissa’s voice came out with a carefree tone. She had a clipboard with her, and she looked relatively at ease. Immediately Stiles shot up and made his way over, his hands fidgeting with each other, not taking note of Melissa’s relaxed stance.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Stiles asked, his eyes pleading. Melissa gave him a reassuring smile.

“Stiles, relax. She’s totally fine. She just had appendicitis, nothing super major I promise,”

Stiles took a deep breath, feeling the tension from waiting around slip away from him. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.  “She’s…she’s gonna be okay?” he asked tentatively.

Melissa smiled at him. “She’s going to be just fine,” she looked over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “Now, usually it’s family only, but for you I’ll make an exception. ONLY Stiles,” she finishes when everyone else tried to rush past her. Melissa gave him a knowing look, telling him the room number.

Suddenly standing behind the closed door of your room, he felt his anxiety come crashing down again. He had acted like a complete idiot these past few weeks, not being to stand the fact that you would probably never feel the same way about he as he felt about you. He thought he was doing what was best for both of you. Now he wasn’t sure if you’d even want him around as a friend anymore.

I wouldn’t he thought to himself miserably. It took a few more deep breaths before he was ready to open the door.

Thankfully, you were asleep, but he hated how pale you still looked. The hand with the IV laid across your stomach, your chest rising slowly as you took in deep breaths. Stiles crossed over to your left side and pulled up a chair, taking your left hand and placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. With his free hand, he slowly pushed a stand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

He had almost lost you today. Appendicitis was a simple procedure, sure, but what if something worse had happened? What if it was something worse, and he missed it because he was too cowardly to tell you how you felt?

“No more hiding,” Stiles whispered to you. He settled his head against the bed on your side. His hand that wasn’t laced with yours was gently stroking your arm while his eyes dropped lower and lower until complete exhaustion finally took over and he fell into a fitful sleep.

 *

Your body felt light and heavy at the same time. This didn’t feel like your bed, or the cafeteria where you were last. You could vaguely remember being carried, but it was all a pain filled blur. You scrunched your face before peeling your eyes open, your heart skipping a beat. There you saw Stiles, one arm resting on your leg while the other clutched yours. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face. Was he really here?

You moved your hand to run through his hair, causing him to stir. Stiles looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed together before shooting up into his hairline.

”You’re awake!” he jumped out of his seat, his hand never leaving yours. A huge grin broke out across his face which contradicted the tears that fell from his eyes. He leaned over and pressed a long kiss to your forehead, your eyes closing at the feeling. “How are you feeling? Do you feel alright? Is there any pain? Because I can go get a nurse for some pain medicine. Or are you hungry? Because you didn’t eat at all at lunch and I doubt you ate this morning since you left class to throw up or maybe you did since-“

“Stiles shhh its okay, I feel okay I promise,” you said, voice a little hoarse. Stiles sighed happily before sitting back down, both of his hands coming up to play with your fingers. You wanted to relish in the moment, but you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that took place in your mind. He doesn’t really care, once you’re better he’ll go back to ignoring you.

“Stiles-“

“I like you,” he blurted out, his face beet red. “And I’m sorry. Really fucking sorry okay? I’ve had this giant crush on you for the longest time, and I had no idea how to address because you’re just absolutely everything to me. I thought that if I put some distance between us that it would be easier, but it wasn’t. I could tell that you were upset, only this time it was my fault. Look, if you don’t feel the same way, or even if you hate me after what I did, I get it I fucking deserve it, it’s fine. But after today, seeing you collapse like that, I don’t think I can’t not have you in my life. I really, really like you y/n, and if you can forgive me one day, can we at least stay friends?” his eyes were pleading with you, tears lining his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “So…you don’t want to be with me like that…” you whispered.

“No-I mean yes, of course I would love more than anything to be more than friends, but you-“

“Stiles,” you said with a small smile. “I feel the same way. I have for awhile now…”

His eyes lit up, the tears falling now. “Really?” he asked softly.

“Really.”

“But,” he looked away from you, swallowing thickly. “I-I’m not like, super strong or a good lacrosse player. I’m not a werewolf. I’m only human, I’m just…me.”

“I don’t want any of those things, I want you. I want the boy who can always figure out the cases, the boy who would come over and take care of me whenever I’m upset, who came over every Friday to watch movies with me, and the boy who never ever fails to make me laugh, even when it’s the last thing I want to do.”

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. His smile grew with your words, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief moment.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Stiles stood once again, leaning over you while trying not to crush or hurt you in any way. He cupped your face with one hand before gently placing his lips on yours. The kiss was soft, your lips moving slowly against his. It didn’t become any more heated then simply kissing, but your heart still exploded. You two kissed until your lungs burned, Stiles pulling away for just a moment to take a quick breath before diving back in, tilting his head a little, the kiss picking up its pace slightly.

After a few more moments, Stiles pulled back for good, smiling down at you while he pulled his chair even closer you as he sat down, and you were positive that your grin was just a big as his. You leaned over and wiped the remaining tears off of his face, him leaning into your touch.

“Can I take you on date?” he asked.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Just a date?” you joked.

“Well, I feel like I should take you out on a proper date before I ask you to be my girlfriend,” he laughed, and you smiled at him.

“Okay, then in that case, I’d love to go on a date you,” you said, affection laced in your tone.

He smiled dopily at you, resting his hand back on the bed next you, your arm coming around him comfortably.

“Get some rest, kid. I’ll be right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, always,”

You sighed, closing your eyes, and for the first time in a few weeks, you were able to sleep peacefully with Stiles by your side.

[thewickedkings]

Between the Two of Us

Masterlist || Next Chapter 

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. (I know, I know, I suck at descriptions)

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

Chapter 1

Jude Duarte was spending her second period history class plotting a murder. If asked, she might have said she was being purely hypothetical, but she’d be lying. After all, she would be doing the school, and the world, a service by murdering Cardan Greenbriar.

She could already imagine herself receiving a badge of honor, crowds chanting her name for ridding the world of such a nuisance.

An image of his infuriating smirk after he had ‘accidentally’ knocked over her morning coffee popped up in her head. Thankfully, the coffee had cooled down a bit, so she was just left with a coffee stain on her sleeve and a severe lack of caffeine. Regardless, Cardan knew she needed her coffee to function in the morning, and that she had an important physics test to take first period.

She played with the edge of her notebook and contemplated the best method for his murder. Maybe a quick stab and run? No, definitely too painless. It needed to be slow and satisfying. Poison? That seemed like a viable option. She would just have to find a way to order some without it being tracked back to her. Maybe she could slip it into-

“Jude. Are you paying attention?” Her teacher’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah I am. Sorry.” Thankfully he couldn’t read her mind. He’d be calling the school therapist, or the police.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Parker continued, “I’m going to pair you guys off for the next assignment, and you will be choosing a social issue to discuss and relate it to a historic event or movement. Show me why the issue is important and what we can do to work towards change. I want you to be creative with this. This will be 20 percent of your final grade, so don’t just write me an essay.”

Jude internally groaned, since that was exactly what she had planned to do. Now she would actually have to spend time on it, because she really needed that 20 percent to keep her A in the class.

“I’m passing out a worksheet with more details. I expect you to have a topic and an outline of your plan for your project by Monday. And before you ask, I’ll be assigning partners.”

Jude’s heart sunk. They couldn’t even choose their partners for a semester long project? That was just cruel. She’d much rather work alone. Hopefully she would just end up with Taryn. She’d rather work with her twin than anyone else in this class.

Mr. Parker started pairing students up at random.

“Taryn, you’ll work with…” Jude perked up. “Locke.” So much for that.

“Jude, you can work with…” He surveyed the classroom until his eyes landed on a quiet kid named Nick. Jude let out a sigh of relief. She barely knew him, but she would be fine working with him.

Before he could say his name, the door to the classroom swung open, and in walked in the last person Jude wanted to see: Cardan Greenbriar, his sharp black hair slightly mussed and his smile gloriously confident as if he hadn’t just missed almost the entirety of the class. 

“Mr. Parker. Sorry I’m late,” he said, in his annoyingly smooth voice. 

Jude snorted incredulously, and Cardan’s gaze turned to her, a smirk forming on his lips at the coffee stain on her sleeve. She gazed back, unwavering.

Mr. Parker interrupted their stare-off. “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t expect me to be so forgiving next time.”

He turned back to Jude. “In fact, Cardan, you can be Jude’s partner on the semester project. You’ll be working on it both in and out of class. She’ll fill you in on the details later.”

Both Jude and Cardan looked up in alarm. Since the day they had met, Cardan and Jude had not gotten along. What started off as petty insults had grown into a full-blown rivalry, both of them constantly battling to one-up the other. There was absolutely no way they could work together. And for once, it seemed they were in agreement.  

“Wait what? Mr. Parker, what about Nick?” she scrambled right as Cardan choked out, “Me and Jude? You’re joking.”

“Wait, who’s Nick?” Cardan asked unhelpfully. Nick shifted awkwardly in the corner.

She shot Cardan a glare and turned back to Mr. Parker. “I think it would be better for all of us if I partnered with Nick.”

Except Mr. Parker seemed to be on an entirely different wavelength. “Actually,” he looked between them, almost amused, “I think this project would be the perfect opportunity for you guys to work on your teamwork skills. I’m sure you two can work something out.”

Before Jude could protest again, he gave her a stern look. “Go sit down and start brainstorming. I’m not changing my mind. I expect a rough outline by Monday.”

She trudged back to her seat, and Cardan followed.

“Well then, partner, it seems we have a project to plan.”

Jude scoffed. “We’ll just do something easy and get it over with.”

“Mr. Parker mentioned this being a semester long project, Duarte. You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he smirked.

“Just like this dumb coffee stain. This shirt was expensive, you know.”

Of course, Cardan chose to completely ignore that. “He also said we’ll have to work on it outside of class, so you’ll be seeing me whether you like it are not.”

“Why are you suddenly so excited to work with me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

The bell rang before he could reply, signaling the end of the class.

Cardan reached underneath her desk for her backpack and handed it to her. “So when should we meet to discuss the outline?”

“What? Why would I want to meet up?” Jude asked, grabbing her backpack from his hands and walking to the door.

He strode into the hallway after her. “If I recall correctly, Mr. Parker said we have to have an outline by Monday, and if I’m not wrong, today is Friday. Which means we have the weekend to figure out our outline, unless you want to fail, or do it by yourself, which I’m completely fine with, by the w-”

“Okay, okay, fine!” She threw her hands up in surrender. “We can meet up Saturday.”

“I’ll come over to your place at 11:00. Sound good?”

“What? Why my place?” But he had already started walking away.

“Take it or leave it, Duarte. I have a lot of other things I could be doing,” he yelled across the hallway, walking backwards towards his locker. His unruly curls flopped perfectly over his forehead, one arm holding the strap of his backpack.

 Jude rolled her eyes. “Fine! See you then, Greenbriar. Don’t be late!” she hollered back over her shoulder and disappeared into the throngs of students rushing to their next class.

She felt a couple people staring at her curiously. It was pretty well-known that Jude and Cardan were rivals. They hadn’t exactly kept the antagonism between them to themselves.

And now they would be forced to work together for the rest of the semester. She sighed. She really needed to find some of that poison as soon as possible.

This is my first time posting on here so I hope you enjoyed! I kept on obsessively editing until I finally just gave in and posted it. Let me know what you think :)

Tagging: @jurdan7 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[cutest-bug]

Interview with Adrien Agreste! Subject: The Oxygen Project.

Conducted by Alya Cesaire

Ok so I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this addition to a post I made on my main blog about Adrien low key trashing the Agreste brand the way Robert Pattinson does Twilight. I know it was meant to be more of a goofy idea but my head is full of angst and this is what I came up with at 4 a.m. lol.

Alya smiles warmly as Adrien settles into the seat across from her.

“Are you ready?” She asks. He gives her a slightly nervous smile but nods. She nods to Nino who hits record and Adriens face immediately smoothes over into a pleasant and unreadable mask. It’s actually a little freaky to watch.

It’s a Monday afternoon and they’re set up in the art room during their lunch period. Adrien looks as perfectly neutral as always. Non flashy designer labels and tousled hair that probably took 20 minutes to style. For once though, his actions will be a little less perfect and easy to swallow.

“Hi Adrien, thanks for agreeing to an interview on the Ladyblog, I’m glad we could finally do this.”

He smiles and considers for a moment before answering, tiling his head a degree, “The pleasure is mine Alya, especially since I’m the one who approached you about doing this.”

That’s true. Right after the class joined Mylene and Ivan for their protest of the Oxygen Project Adrien asked to speak with her. He was upset that he had been tricked into modeling for the project without knowing what it was for. While most of his die hard fans had gotten wind he didn’t support it, he wanted to farther remedy the situation and use his position to reach a wider audience. Of course there weren’t many platforms he could do that on behind his fathers back, hence asking for Alya’s help.

“Still, I know interviews aren’t your favorite. Otherwise I probably would have asked you a while ago.”

Adrien smiled again, a little more genuinely (the one she knew Marinette was so fond of), “I don’t really like probing questions from journalists about my personal life. The fact that you’ve never asked or taken advantage of knowing me means a lot. I trust you.”

“Personally I think it’s a little crazy you have to do all of those interviews at all. You’re only 15, your life shouldn’t be so public.”

Adrien lets the smile fall several degrees. It’s deliberate, he’s letting people see his discomfort, “Well, it kind of goes hand and hand with all of the modeling. I’m the face of the Agreste brand.”

Alya nods and looks down at the papers in her lap, “Which is the point of our interview today, really.” They had agreed on what was and wasn’t to be talked about before hand, however they don’t have a planned out dialogue. They agreed that they both do well with more organic conversation, and it’s important the interview comes off as very genuine.

Adrien nods in agreement and Alya continues, “Now that the plan for the Oxygen Project is officially canceled, it’s time to clear up what your involvement with the promotion of it was. Nearly everyone in Paris saw the ads that ran.” Unfortunately it had been to late for Mayor Bourgeois to cancel the first few days of ads. For nearly a week Adriens face played on every television in the city, telling everyone about what a great breath of fresh air the project would be.

Alya hands him the first photo in her lap. It’s of him with the class after they first arrived at the protest, looking interested but not particularly emotional yet. It’s from the video that she filmed, but there was a pretty low view rate on the protest coverage. The interview with Adrien will probably get anywhere from 3 to 5 times as many.

“What not everyone realizes is that you were present during the planned tree cutting ceremony and following protest. So what was going on for you at this point in the day Adrien?”

“Our whole class had just gone to the park to support Mylene and Ivan, our friends who lead the protest. Right after we arrived Mylene started arguing with the Mayor about whether the project was good for the environment or not.”

“That girl has a hidden fire!” Alya adds, “I have a section dedicated to activism on the blog now. The video from the whole day is there but I also posted some smaller segments explaining the conflict and a few more that Mylene recommended on how to get involved.”

Adrien gave his most genuine smile yet, “I watched those! I hope your viewers take the time to check them out. I know the super hero fights are exciting, I mean I’ve been glued to your blog from the start, but I’m glad people like Mylene and Ivan are reminding us to keep our eyes on the big picture too.”

Alya nods, “So am I. Ok, it was during this argument that the ad was first shown correct?”

Adrien lets the smile fall completely this time, “Yes. Apparently the plan was always to air it for the first time during the tree cutting ceremony. It was also the first time I’d seen it.”

“I’m sure most of our viewers have seen it already, so I’m not going to play it now,” Adrien shoots her a grateful look, “Adrien, she says kindly, “I remember how surprised you were when the ad played. Do you want to tell everyone why?”

Adrien looks down at his hands, “I hadn’t known what the ad was for when I filmed it. I thought it was another one of those silly perfume commercials.” Alya isn’t sure if him saying “silly” was a slip up or on purpose but she struggles not to laugh.

“Did someone tell you it was a perfume commercial or did you just assume when you were given the script?”

“I was told it was for perfume.”

“Can I ask who by?”

She thinks the discomfort is genuine this time. Everything else is the video isn’t that bad, but this line could bring hell for him.

“My father told me it was.”

This isn’t news for Nino or Alya but she pauses for a long moment to let viewers digest that before asking her next question, “Do you know why he lied to you?”

“I suppose he thought I wouldn’t be ok with doing it otherwise.”

Alya smiles, a little proud, before handing him another picture. She’ll edit them into the screen for viewers to see later, “Well he thought correctly. Here’s a picture of you standing with Mylene and our friend Marinette, forming a physical barrier so the trees wouldn’t be cut down,” she pauses for a moment while Adrien examines the picture, “I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.”

“I had just found out my image was going to be used to promote an anti-ecological plan that would harm our city. My friends had spent months trying to prevent it. I was furious.”

And Bam! As soon as she posts this video Adrien’s empty head, pretty face, good boy persona is shattered. He just admitted to having feelings. Angry ones. Directed at his father. Not to mention opinions on political matters. That is not the pretty face most of Paris is familiar with and fawns over.

“I’d be angry too,” Alya sympathizes.

Adrien puts the photo down and looks at her with a serious expression, “That’s the main reason I wanted to do this interview. For better or worse I have a lot of sway with my fans and public opinion. There’s still some controversy about the Oxygen Project being canceled so I want to be very clear that I do not stand with it,” he looks directly into the camera, “The oxygen project would have only helped the people profiting from it. The only ethical solutions for our city, and the whole world, are complicated, long term, sustainable options that will protect and rejuvenate our planet. No one has said it better than Mylene and Ivan so please go check out those videos under the activism section. Help if you can, and spread the word about the truth. It’s important that people know when they’re being lied to by a corporate campaign.”

Alya realized she stopped breathing for a moment because oh my god that was so good. She manages to quietly clear her throat and thank Adrien for the interview again. He plasters back on his polite smile and they give a brief hug before she gestures to Nino to stop filming.

“OH MAN! That was awesome!” Nino pulls Adrien into a one armed hug and doesn’t let go.

Adrien smiles a little bashfully, “You think? It wasn’t to much?”

“No way Adrien,” Alya cuts in, “the whole thing was great but that bit at the end? Amazing. Mylene will be thrilled.”

Nino pulls away from their friend a bit and clasps his shoulder, “Are you going to be ok though? Your old man is not going to be cool with like, any of that, is he?”

Adrien purses his lips and shrugs, “Don’t worry about my dad, I can handle him.”

Alya can see the fake nonchalance a mile away. Marinette is the queen of it after all, so she tells him, “Adrien this is really brave of you but I just want to make sure you know you’re in charge of this narrative. I probably won’t finish editing everything until tomorrow because I have a project to finish tonight. If you change your mind there’s no hard feelings. Or if there’s something you decide you want left out I’ll work some editing magic.”

Adrien smiles but her words don’t seem to relieve any tension, “Thanks Alya, it means a lot. By the way, where’s Marinette? I thought she was coming?”

“She’s probably just got caught up with something but I’ll see if she messaged me.” Alya checks her phone and realizes she left it on silent after the test last period. No texts from Marinette, but there is an akuma alert which explains her absence. She tries to ignore the immediate twinge of worry.

Adrien suddenly looks up from his own phone and rushes to grab his bag, “I actually got to go, my dad wants me home until the akuma attack is over. Best keep my head down until the bomb drops tomorrow right?” He rushes out before Alya or Nino can respond.

Nino sighs after his best friend runs out, “It’s so unfair he’s having to rectify his dad’s bad choices.”

Alya takes his hand, “I know. Something tells me this won’t be the last time he does so either. We’ll be there to support him though.” Her boyfriend gives her a soft smile and she kisses him on the cheek, “Come on, I want footage of that akuma fight.”

Nino glances down at his phone, “Actually it looks like the fight just ended a minute ago.”

“Wow that was short. It couldn’t have gone longer than the ten minutes we did the interview with Adrien for.”

“You’ll catch the next one,” he grins at her, “one way or another.”

She laughs, “okay turtle boy, let’s go get some lunch before we have to head back to class.”

They run into a slightly dejected Adrien on the way. He gives them an interview smile. They all find Marinette and get lunch. They keep the conversation light and avoid talking about the bomb Alya’s going to post tomorrow.

This is self indulgent. I really need Adrien taking some control of his life and standing up to his dad. Yes it’s painful but it’s so important that Adrien puts some distance between them in the public eye before Gabriel is revealed as Hawkmoth. I’m just hoping that can actually happen in canon but I have many fears this season.