#ive given her the name flip

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART IV

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Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: major character death (?), more plot-driven smut, strong language, anxiety-inducing themes, panic attacks, co-dependency, hot n heavy but low-key emotional s*x. MINORS, DNI. 18+

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

When you do manage to get yourself out of bed and dressed for the day, which consists of an oversized long sleeved shirt that you stole from your uncle (because you liked it) along with some leggings and long white socks, you tell yourself to take a deep breath and accept whatever fate awaits you.

You've made your bed (literally, and figuratively speaking) so now you have to... well, not lie in it...

Anyway.

You walk downstairs to smell Steve at work in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious. Eddie sees you first, on the couch.

He grins and waves. "Mornin’, princess.”  

You smile and give him a little wave. "Howdy."

Robin walks in with a first aid kit to give him fresh bandages, visibly sagging with relief when she sees you.

“Oh thank God, you’re up. These kids are already on one...”

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that, taking in her frazzled state, and you ask her what you can do to help but she just says in a desperate voice, “Coffee, please, I love you.”  You grin and nod, hearing her and Eddie fussing over his dressing as you make for a hot cup of coffee.

You can hear the kids all around the corner, chirping lively from the kitchen. Even El is in there participating. Hopper’s voice is in the mix somewhere, grunting something about “indoor voices.”  Your uncle is arguing over something with Erica, balls deep in a heated debate.

When you round the corner, your eyes first land on Nancy. She’s sitting at the bar with Jonathan. She smiles at you shyly. Jonathan greets you out loud.

“Bauman Squared is up.”

The kids all get in a tizzy of excitement. Erica’s excitement is short-lived, given her intense debate with your uncle. But Dustin is rushing over to you, blabbering about something pertaining to the lifespan of canned goods, and Mike is chiming in from the table saying, “No, Dustin, hold up, okay?  So, Bauman, this is actually how it started.”

But your uncle cuts him off, asking them why they call you that when you both share the same last name. Joyce teasingly points out that he’s Murray and you’re Bauman.

Hopper adds to that, “yeah man, get with the program. Your niece is our favorite.” He shoots you a wink, and you give him a finger gun of approval.

Your uncle is rolling his eyes, but shoots you a desperate look — “Coffee. Black. Strong. Gracias.”   Erica resumes her debate with him.

You grin as you move to go get your uncle a much needed cup of coffee, finding that Steve has stopped flipping the pancakes to look at you with a soft smile and scooting over a hot mug of coffee to you. 

But it’s not for your uncle. It’s for you.

“Two sugar, light cream, right?”   

The way that Steve murmurs the question to you makes you weak in the knees. You settle for giving him a tight-lipped grin and nod.

“Yeah, thank you,” you murmur back.

Steve moves to grab another mug, moving to pour another cup of straight black coffee for your uncle. You can’t help but notice the curve of his biceps as he does, secretly admiring his face while the coffee pours from the pot. The way his white t-shirt fits him just right, his gray sweatpants sitting at the jusssst right point of his hips.

You swallow. Fuck.

You get a hold of yourself before he’s handing it over to you. He winks. “It’s strong. I promise.”

You smirk back at him, raising the glass in thanks before walking it over to your uncle.

You don’t notice the way that Steve tries to hide the overwhelming thoughts in his brain, signaling his evolving feelings for you.

And you also don’t notice now Nancy catches it, or how it uncomfortably makes her heart seize...

But you do notice your uncle staring at you with those damn all-knowing-eyes, while Erica incessantly jabbers on about whatever the hell they’re debating. You and Murray exchange the quietest but most intense glares.

And Hopper's got half a donut hanging out of his mouth as he happens to catch the tail end of this. He wants to ask, but decides it’s best to hold off on that.

***

The day goes well. The house is always staying busy, so it keeps you all that way. Hopper is calling for a family meeting in the living room, which gets everyone in a tizzy.

The boys will always, at some point, try to take over. It takes both Joyce and Hopper to set them straight.

Your uncle makes sure to throw in his usual statement: “peanut gallery hours will follow the meeting, thank you.” 

This meeting is no exception, and it goes exactly like that.

Will makes great points, as always — and he is allowed to, along with El, given their ties to the supernatural.

Jonathan and Nancy always listen the best. One of them takes notes.

Normally, you sit next to your uncle or Eddie while Steve always takes a seat next to Robin. 

But this time, as you sit next to Murray at the end of the couch listening to Hopper try to push through his conference lecture while Dustin interjects like crazy, your heart flutters as Steve moves from the staircase over to sit on the arm of the couch -- next to you.

You sit still, not letting yourself react or look up at him. But you also forget to breathe. Thankfully, he’s too busy telling Dustin to can it so he doesn’t notice.

Robin is slowly shifting back in her seated position in the large loveseat, having been prepared to make room for Steve. She’s too grateful to have it to herself to feel suspicious yet.

Eddie, however, clocks it. What “it” is, necessarily? He doesn’t know.  Like honestly, he’s not even in the ballpark.  But still, he notices so yay gold star.

Nancy does know what “it” is, though, when she catches it.  Or at least she has an inkling.  She’s not the note taker today, so she’s able to catch it. She wonders to herself if maybe she is just overthinking it, given her conflicted feelings for Steve while still with Jonathan.

Steve is actively participating in the conversation with the adults, and you chime in as well. Once you’ve gotten a grip on yourself.

Something is being said about needing to go on a supply run, but also how they need to get over to the main field and see what is happening at the lab — which is now squared off with all electric fencing. The kids are LOUD, demanding it be them. Hopper shuts that down real fast.

“So help me Goddddd, listentome.” — Hopper

“Kids, shh, calm down…” — Joyce

“FETUSES, SILENCIO.”  — Murray

The kids relent with rolled eyes and groans of displeasure. Hopper rubs his temples, resetting.  Then speaking —

“I will be assigning roles. You will hear them, and you will accept them.  Deal?”

Everyone nods, agreeing. Even the kids. Great, you think, so they’ve learned to know better than push their luck that far…

Hopper is assigning 4 separate groups to 4 separate tasks. 

In one group: Robin, Nancy, Will and Joyce. They will be making the supply run.

In the 2nd group: Dustin, Erica and Murray will be staying here to run the command center. Murray’s the boss. He grins, but also wants to jump off a cliff for the fact he has been assigned the responsibility of managing the two loudest kids in the group. Lucas will also stay with Max, while on lookout at base.

In the 3rd group: Hopper, El, Mike and Argyle as the driver. They’ll be assessing the damage done, pertaining to the gate re-opening. They’re on Vecna patrol.

In the 4th group: Jonathan, Steve, you and Eddie. You’ll all be venturing over the fence to spy on the lab and get a look at what is happening over there, while reporting back to Group 2.

This sends Dustin to a fit of determination, as he insists that he joins your group so that he can help with the walkie-talkie communication since Lucas and Erica can man the fort. (Murray definitely takes offense to that.)

Hopper huffs but doesn’t disagree with the suggestion. “Don’t let this give you any sort of false pretenses, kid. This is the one suggestion you’ve made that is sensible.”

Dustin just grins like a dopey idiot. Then he looks at Steve. “Yay!”

Steve rolls his eyes but honestly, he’s cool with having his buddy.

The plan is to go into effect early tomorrow morning. Meaning, everyone needs to get some good ass sleep and tuck in early.

You’re in your room now, having just showered and put on your pajamas with freshly brushed teeth. You’re putting together your combat outfit for tomorrow when there’s a knock at your door.

You expect it to be your uncle, since earlier he was going over strategies with you for an obscenely long time — which is his very awkward way of indirectly saying, “hey, you’re my niece and I love you and I’m worried about you because that’s what family does.” So you figure he’s drawn up another 10 plans to run by you, and you're happy to humor him on them.

But it’s Steve on the other side, looking shy and like he might’ve had to talk himself into doing this in fear of how you might react.

You give him a surprised but pleasant smile. He stands there, returning it timidly. There is a silence that falls over both of you. Then finally —

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

You have to literally restrain yourself from jumping at that question with a way-too-eager oh thank god, yes. Instead, you just give him a polite grin.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

Steve lets himself in, and he looks over to see your outfit set aside for tomorrow. He nods at it as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Tryna look badass?”

You smirk. “I am a badass. I’m a Bauman.”

You expect Steve to scoff. To roll his eyes. Make some snide remark. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, with that same look on his face that he had this morning while you two laid in bed together. You can’t break away your gaze for a moment, almost hypnotized.

God, he is so beautiful. Why the fuck is he so beautiful?

Finally, you break the stare down by moving to get your combat boots out from the closet and place them beside the clothes.

And that’s when you feel it. His fingers brushing the edge of your t-shirt, hooking onto it so that you turn around. You do, letting him turn you to face him. He’s looking at you intently, and slowly he pulls you towards him to cage you between his spread legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s half shy, half confident. Gentle but assertive. You stare down into his doe eyes, and you hold your breath when his fingers splay across your hips as they grip onto you. You’re so close to him now, too close yet somehow not close enough. You can’t breathe.

After soaking you in, Steve reaches one arm up to pull your neck down to his face so that he can brush the tip of his nose against yours, just like you did last night. Ever so slowly, be nuzzles. Eskimo kiss.

And then his lips are finding their way to be against yours.

Steve kisses you softly, taking his time and just breathing you in. Then he sighs into your mouth as he stands so that he can lift you up, making you swing your legs to wrap around his waist and hold yourself to him there. He turns you both around, effortlessly walking you over to sit on top of the chest of drawers. Damn, he's strong. Steve places you there, lips still on yours, before he finally pulls back.  His hands glide down to the bottom of your shirt. Please, his eyes ask. But this time, he wrenches your shirt off of you with more vigor than last night. It’s urgent, and it’s still urgent when his lips crash back into yours before wrenching himself back again so that you can tug his shirt over his own head. He grunts impatiently, wanting to not be apart from you yet needing to be skin to skin. He paws and grabs at you, needy and greedy, but something about it feels a whole lot more like love than lust.

Steve tastes like summer. Sunscreen, popsicles and June. He smells like pool water and boyfriend. And he looks like a dream. 

You wonder how in the world he would have felt if he’d been told during his King Steve era that one day, he’d be having sex with that one student who graduated a year early and didn’t belong to any niche crowd or group or clique. You wonder if he would scoff at that, wave it off. Say, nah, that girl? Never.

But the way that Steve keens into your neck right now, murmuring sinful names for you like angel and baby, makes you wonder if King Steve wouldn’t be able to understand that the new and improved Steve Harrington might just happen to be into things he never was into before. Maybe he’d gotten close with Nancy. Maybe you were a rebound. But he didn’t kiss you like that. Or treat you like that after your first time, for that matter...

And the second time was just as euphoric as the first time, just different. Steve was more in control, clinging to you and unafraid to go for it.

Before you know it, you’re up against the wall with your bare chest against it and your legs spread widely and his mouth on your ear. Tugging at your earlobe with his teeth and his shaky breathing, infused with his pleasured grunting humming inside of your eardrums. You pant and bite back the screams that you so fucking badly want to release. but you don't, not wanting to wake the entire household or get the attention anyone awake.  However, you made sure that he knew you were in pure fucking bliss with the way you arched your back into him and dripped all over his girth.

“Been wanting to be here inside you all day,” he rasped, thrusting against you. “Didn’t wanna leave this room.” His words break up as he pounds himself deeper into your guts. “Needed to — to — n-n-need you —”

You throw your head back against him, climaxing at his words for the second time in a row tonight. His arm linked around your waist tightens, gripping you like a lifeline, and he chokes into your ears — which only sends you into an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. And Steve shares the exact same experience as you do when he ejaculates inside of you.

You both pant and gasp for air, your heart rates racing at lightning speed and trying to level out. You’re both slick with sweat and sex, and as Steve rests his head against your shoulder it sends chills up your arms when his hair flops and tickles your bare skin.

Steve pulls out of you, and you shiver as you feel him leave your body, inch by inch. The loss of him is overwhelming, and your legs shake. But before you can even move to catch yourself, Steve is already turning you to him with a steady grasp on you.

The way that Steve strokes your hair, moving it out of your face as he stares into your eyes again, is priceless. You can’t help it…

“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington.” You breathe it against his face, still catching your breath. The corners of your lips twitch, almost like you want to laugh or smile. “I can’t stand you.”

Steve looks at you like you’re all that matters in this world. The pads of his thumbs stroke the skin under your eyes, softly, gingerly. He moves to press his lips to the corner of your mouth, breathing against it, “I can’t stand you either.”

Feather-like kisses are pressed to the corner of your mouth and cheek, and you revel in the glory of it, pressing your skull into the wall with your eyes fluttering shut.

Steve falls asleep first that night, with you tucked underneath his chin and with his arms holding you protectively. You let the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

***

The next morning comes sooner than you’d like.

You feel someone squeeze you tightly to them, pressing their lips to the crown of your hair before they roll out of bed. You watch as Steve’s back muscles flex while he tugs his sweatpants back over his boxers, then throws his shirt back on and heads to your little en-suite bathroom for a few minutes. You force yourself to sit up, knowing that it’s time and you’ll need to get ready.

Hopper would be so mad if he knew about the 5 hours of sleep you got, versus the 8.

You’re pulling out a pair of socks to go with your boots when Steve emerges from the bathroom, and before you can stand up and move to switch places — he’s cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead in two lingering pecks. You smile under his touch.

You give him the shyest of looks before going to brush your teeth, re-shower and get changed.

Steve quietly murmurs to you the promise of coffee as he leaves. And he is all you think about in the shower.

You get changed into your army pants, combat boots, and fitted t-shirt. You grab yourself a windbreaker and throw your go-bag over your shoulder, ready to face the day.

Dustin is securing the command center with Murray and Erica, while Mike comes over to you carrying snacks.

“Here, I set extra aside so that you have plenty.”  Mike always treated you more like a sister than Nancy, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. You ruffle his hair and give him a quick squeeze, grateful.

Lucas and Will are asking you questions about the trip, along with Mike, and you assure your kiddos that you’ll all be fine.

Hopper comes over to you with Murray, entrusting you with one of their guns. “You’re the group's team lead today, along with Steve.”

Steve’s got his nail bat, along with a pistol.

Murray is going over the inner workings of the lab’s field layout with you and your group.

“The break switch is in this building,' he's saying. "But thanks to Erica and Dustin, we’ve got a way of hacking into it at exactly this time. You’ll have this much time to mount the electric fence and get to the other side. Seize. Those. Minutes. Haul ass. Get to the other side.  No asking why the chicken crossed the road. Capiché?”

The way that Jonathan, Eddie and Steve repeat the word back to him makes you visibly bite back a laugh.

Joyce is giving everyone the nurturing mama bear talk, hugging everyone too many times — especially Jonathan. She has Will in her group, so she’ll be a little more sane in the head thankfully.

Nancy and Jonathan are giving each other an affectionate goodbye that Steve doesn’t even notice. Nancy wonders if he does. Silently, and selfishly, she hopes he does. But he doesn’t.

Robin is rambling about something having to do with a jump-ship plan in case the jump-ship plan doesn’t work, and if they need to establish not only a 2nd abort —

“— but maybe even a 3rd abort? and wait is there really enough backpacks that they’re taking to fit all the supplies and can goods that they — ”

“Oh my god, Robin, please breathe,” Steve cuts her off.

“Wait, what’s the jump ship plan?” Argyle’s question makes everyone whip their head in his direction with incredulous looks on their faces.

Hopper looks ready to slug someone but also like a nervous dad. After he goes back over the plan for everyone, giving the bullet points, he tells you all to eat your breakfasts and be by the front door within 30 minutes or else.

Lucas takes his plate up to sit with Max. El comes over to talk with you about the day, saying that she’ll send a signal if she sees anything dangerous headed your way at the lab. She gives you a tight hug, which tugs at Hopper’s heart. He and Murray share a very rare, quiet moment with an exchange in their eyes. Our girls.

Steve is telling the boys and Erica to follow him upstairs to Max’s room to join Lucas for a motherly pep talk, and they all follow him like chicks following a mother hen.

Eddie is being given strict instructions by Robin to follow orders and not rip his stitches that she’s worked hard at keeping in tact by mounting the wall --

...“and be on the damn lookout only so help me god or else I’ll rip them back open myself,” she threatens him.

Eddie visibly swallows and nods at that, believing her.

Suddenly Nancy is walking up to you, as you stand there still hugging El while looking over Murray’s shoulder at his computer system setup. She looks nervous as you turn to her.

“Hey, umm, keep an eye on them, will you?” she asks shyly, sheepishly. “I worry about them. Especially Dustin.”

You know she meant Steve. “Yeah. Of course.”

Nancy nods awkwardly, grateful you didn’t correct her and a little embarrassed. She points to the gun on your back, giving you a tight-lipped grin. “Glad it’s you handling that bad boy.”

She flashes the same one across her back. You chuckle lightly, agreeing with her. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for Eddie to get his hands on this or else he’ll murder the whole town.”

Nancy giggles.

Eddie snickers at the joke, appreciating your dark humor. He gives you a wry smile. “Thanks princess, but I only prefer bone crushing, eye sucking curses.”

You all eat some whole wheat eggos (even El) and some scrambled eggs. Plenty of water, plus some coffee.

Steve walks in to scoop up his plate during the last 10 minutes, and Hopper takes pity on him — given that he’s been with the kids.

“You get an extra 5,” Hopper tells him.

“Appreciate it, Hop.” 

Steve carries his plate over to the table, moving to sit by you and Murray — who does his best to just stare down at his coffee and ignore catching this in his peripheral vision. Sip, slurp.

It’s a quiet breakfast. Tense. Stiff. Everyone is nervous. This stuff never does get easier…

***

The kids all boom back down the stairs, loud as ever.

And everyone is out the door on time, minus the extra 5 minutes that Hopper secretly gave for Steve’s benefit. Thankfully, it goes unremarked but the kids.

You all put their hands in a circle because Dustin insisted a while back that you cannot all part ways without a group huddle. So it’s now become tradition. Everyone fist bumps in unison, and the four groups embark on their separate journeys.

Group 1 does well, making it into town. They have the bottom tier level of risk, which Hopper did intentionally for Joyce and Will's sakes because those are his hearts. He also adores the two girls, Nancy and Robin, of course. They carefully fill up Joyce’s car in doses, trying not to attract attention as everyone has a strict evacuation mandate that goes into place next week along with a food supply limit. They’re ahead of the game, doing everything not to give away what Dr. Owens warned them about.

Group 2 is in full swing, back at Casa Harrington. Erica and Murray bicker like a married couple, but they also high five. Lucas makes sure that Max is safely tucked in, giving her a kiss on the forehead and a promise to be back upstairs in a few hours.

Group 3 is cautious. They have to calculate every single move, given the risks. El uses her senses to tap in, blindfold on and static on the van's radio ringing throughout the car. Mike keeps watch, along with Argyle at the wheel — and Hopper navigates.

Group 4, your group, is en route. You have the longest journey to make on foot, making sure to keep their strength. Jonathan keeps watch of time, and Dustin hangs into the walkie-talkie to keep contact. You scan the area, and so does Steve, as you all walk. Eddie sings to himself to keep from wigging out, and it’s definitely giving mumbled panic.

You are telling everyone the ETA, using the compass. Steve tells the gang to keep the same pace so that they make sure they aren’t there too soon or too late, wanting to time it right with Group 2’s orders.

At some point, you gesture for everyone to pivot directions, and when Steve steps in your direction — he instinctively reaches out to brush the small of your back. It’s so subtle… yet so telling.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow mid-song, ceasing the mumbling altogether for about 2 solid seconds, before resuming as he walks. Even Jonathan raises an eyebrow, silently smirking.

Dustin misses it entirely.

Then Dustin starts communicating back and forth on the walkie-talkie with Erica, and as they start to bicker Steve interjects.

“Hey, dingus, cool it and listen to what she’s saying, please.”

Dustin huffs, whining, “but she’s wronnnng...” 

You squint in the sunlight as you look back at him, saying simply, “Listen to your mother.”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. You both just look back at your son expectantly. Dustin sighs but obeys.

Oh that definitely makes Eddie and Jonathan share a look.

Back at base, Murray is struggling to access the switch for the electric fence closest to where Group 4 (you guys) is approaching. He and Erica work hard at it, and Lucas helps as he keeps open the line of communication with Dustin via the walkie-talkie.

“This east side gate is a bitch,” Murray is griping over the channel.  “Hang tight, just pause when you guys make it there.”

Dustin and Lucas are going back and forth, while Jonathan tries to keep up with what they are all saying. 

You can see the fence up ahead, and so does Steve. 

Eddie’s singing gets louder.

Nancy speaks over the walkie-talkie channel: “Group 1, reporting.  Over.” 

Dustin speaks.  “Group 4, tuned in.  Over.” 

The other groups tune in, too.  Nancy continues in a hushed voice.  “Food supply is running low so we’re going to double up.  The mandate will be really strict.  Can’t take chances.  Over.” 

Jonathan tells her to keep them posted with the ETA.

El comes onto the walkie-talkie, asking for you. 

You take it, speaking: “Bauman squared, I copy.  Over.” 

Eleven tells you that she can see you all headed there to the lab, and that no one is nearby.  You’re safe. 

Hopper adds: “But Eddie, make sure that you stay tuned into this channel and relay it to Dustin just in case.  Over.”

Eddie’s song of woe dies on his lips with an anxious exhale.  “Roger that, over.”

Steve speaks up, “Alright guys, we’re here.” 

Dustin signals Murray, right on cue.  You all stare up at the looming electric fence in front of you.  It’s tall.  At least 30 feet up.  You gulp.  So does Jonathan.  For Steve, it’s easy.  For Dustin, well, it’s exciting.

Jonathan adds to the relayed info, addressing Murray, saying, “Yeah, uhhh, it’s pretty high up man?” 

Murray’s tone comes through, crisp.  “How high is high?” 

Jonathan visibly shrinks back as he squints in the sunlight. “Like...25-30 feet?”

Murray curses on the other side, frustrated.  “Alright, hold please.”

Steve turns over to face you all, starting with you.  “It’s gonna be a helluva climb.”

You nod.  “We’ll have to double up the speed, guys.  But for safety, let’s just do two at a time.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows.  “Why?”

You tell them it’s safest this way.  This way, two people can gauge the timing of it just in case.  Dustin immediately demands to go in the first group, which Steve shuts down promptly — like all good mothers would with their favorite child.  He starts to onboard Jonathan, but you’re already saying you’ll go as you tighten up your bag.  Steve looks at you, hesitant. 

You look back at him, giving him a nod.  “No arguments.”

Steve sighs through his nose.  “Yeah, I figured as much.” 

He’s so sexy when he isn't actually hating you, and instead just consistently miffed with you…

“Group 4, listen up,” Murray’s voice comes over the walkie-talkie.  “I’m signaling the switch now.  On my mark, it will take exactly 3 minutes for it to activate.  You’ll have 60 seconds to climb it.  Up and down.  That’s it.  Remember what I said: haul ass.”

Dustin responded back with a sigh, “Steve and Bauman Squared insist on going two at a time so…”  He dreads the next question, cringing before asking.  “Any chance you guys can…do it…twice?”

You turn around, waiting to hear your uncle’s reply and wondering if you’ll need to step in.  His befuddled response confirms, yes you will, and you walk over to take the walkie.

“Uncle Murray, it’s not very sturdy.  It’s too big a risk, four at a time.  If you can’t do it, then just me and Steve will go.  What can we do?  Over.” 

You speak matter-of-factly, which Steve appreciates.  He stands with his hands on his hips and tongue between his teeth, all hot and mom-like.  Even though for you...he’s giving daddy.

Eddie has been pacing a trough into the grass.  Please let me have company, he thinks.

Jonathan’s just quiet, wondering if now is a good time to tell everyone that he’s actually afraid of heights. 

Dustin just wants to fucking climb already.

“Workin’ on it.  Standby.”  Your uncle’s monotone voice makes you all wait. 

You stare up at the fence while you do.  Then, turning your face over in Steve’s direction, you find that he’s already gazing over at you.  That fondness in his eyes is back, and you feel your cheeks flush under the sun.  But it’s not the sun making you blush.  Steve's hands are still on his tips, and he gives you a tiny wink before turning to look back at Dustin with the walkie-talkie.  He tells his kid not to stress about it if they can’t come, which only starts a back-and-forth argument between mother and son.  But Erica’s voice cuts through it over the walkie.

“Group 4 nerds, listen up.  We found a way to do it.  Over.”

Dustin pumps his fist in glee.  Jonathan doesn’t.  Eddie realizes he’s doomed, back to being there all alone. 

Steve takes the walkie, asking, “Same timeframes, Murray?  Over?” 

Your uncle confirms it, but then Lucas is in the background saying, “Wait, are you sure this will give them 60 seconds?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that.  But you’re looking at the top of the fence.  The end of the other side of the line is quiet for a hot minute.  No doubt, Murray and the kids are beefing.  Re-calculating.  Beefing some more.  Getting attitudes.  Then finally —

“Erica to group 4, confirming.  Timeframes are exact.  Wait for us to signal the 2nd climb.  Standby and brace for 1st climb.  Over.”

You and Steve look at each other.  Here we go.  He fastens his backpack, reaching out a hand to you and telling you to hand over yours.  You go to protest, but he’s just insisting without budging and reaching anyway.  It isn’t until his hand starts to slide the strap down your shoulder that you huff and relent. 

“30 seconds to climb.”

“There’s a ledge up there, wide enough to stand on.”  You nod up at it as you tell Steve.  “If we run low on time, we hang there until the 2nd climb.” 

Steve nods at you, agreeing.  He turns and relays that to a very anxious Jonathan and a very antsy Dustin.  You gesture over to Dustin, telling him to toss you his backpack.  Steve goes to argue but you hold up a hand. 

“Better me than him," you say quickly. It’s a parental thing that he would insist on too, so he lets you win that one. 

Dustin obeys after seeing mom agree with…um…dad? Are you dad?

“10 seconds to climb.”

Steve talks fast, in position to pounce.  “Eddie, on go, toss that branch to hit the fence.  Double check for sparks.”  Eddie nods, picking up the large branch nearby.  You get in position with Steve.

“5…4…3…2…1…climb!”

Eddie tosses the branch.  No electric shock.  All systems go.

You and Steve hop as high as you can, climbing up like champs.  You both hustle, swiftly making the climb like pro climbers.  Steve is faster, planning to reach down and lift you the rest of the way if he gets to the top first.  But you’re almost right at the same level with him, almost at the top.

…until your bag catches.

The strap of Dustin’s bag pulls you back down.  Air catches in your throat, no scream escaping your mouth as it swings you around, unhooks and makes you fall back some feet.  But you latch back onto the wall, back down to midway.  Fuck. 

Dustin gasps, Jonathan shouts your name.  Eddie starts his shit-shit-shit chant. 

You look down, realizing that it’s way too far of a drop to just fall back down and start over.  You are literally back to the mid-way point. 

You make up your mind within a few seconds: keep going.

Steve is hoisting himself up onto the thick ledge as this is happening, and when he turns to see you lower his heart stops. 

“Bauman, what happened??"

But you keep climbing, shouting, “Steve, just keep going.” 

But Steve is not having that.  He’ll fucking wait.  Hell, he’ll wait for Dustin too.  He’s staying put.  He shakes his head, clapping his hands and reaching for you even though you still have another fourth of the wall to mount before you reach him.

“30 more seconds.”  Oh thank God, that’s plenty.

”You got this, Bauman, c’mon...” Steve’s ready to hold you again.  Anxious.  So fucking anxious.

Dustin is cheering too, along with Eddie and Jonathan.  You’re fine.  Almost there.

You look at Steve at the top, leaning over the side looking down at you. You can see the anxious anticipation in his brown eyed gaze.

“20 more seconds.  Group 2, don’t forget to wait for our signal.”

But right as Murray stops talking — the wall buzzes. 

Everything happens in slow motion.  One second feels like a whole minute for all 5 of you in your group.  Your ears perk up at the sound.  That wasn’t an insect.  That’s mechanic.  That’s —

“Was that —”  Eddie barely started to ask the question you were all wondering.

“Fuck, Bauman — !!! ”  Jonathan’s voice is panicked with realization.

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarm and horror sweeping across his entire face.

You feel a scorch so hot, fire itself couldn’t have burned as badly as the electric shock that shot through your entire body did. 

In that single second, you felt your brain short circuit.

You felt your hands get shoved away from the wall, throwing you off with blinding force.

You felt your throat snap, and you felt your heart rumble inside of your chest...

And then you felt it stop.

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

:( im sorry, Steve.

author notes: I am sure that the fence thing might be weird and not accurate, but it helped my vision for how this chapter goes down. so I hope you all will be kind and not find it too "unrealistic." had to watch some stuff like the OG Jurassic Park, and get ideas for it.

tag list: @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @xprloki @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers

[miley1442111]

burnt- s.adamu

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two different sydney requests:

i got so excited seeing syd in the new trailer for the bear s3 😭 need something with reader x sydney bc i can’t wait until june 27!! anything you can think of possibly based on some stuff hinted in the trailer would be great :) thank you so much!!

requesting sydney x reader! feel like it’s been so long since ive seen any content with her, especially because we were robbed of even a glimpse of her in that new teaser they released the other day 😭

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a/n: i hope you both enjoy! thank you for requesting!

summary: your girlfriend doesn't take it too well when she finds out you kept your injury from her.

pairing: sydney adamu x fem! berzatto! reader

warnings: reader gets hurt, burned hand, i think that's it?

---------------------------

Baste, pour, flip, repeat. Baste, pour, flip, repeat. Baste, pour, flip, repeat. God, did Carmen need to yell so loud? 

You looked up for a split second, not even- just a fraction of a half-second, and you felt the burn of the boiling duck fat begin to sear your skin. It bubbled the skin on your left hand, leaving it exposed to the heat of the room and making it so much worse.  

“Fuck!” you shouted, pulling your hand away from the hot stove and turning it off. You held your hand close to your chest with a pain expression as all eyes handed on you. 

“W-what, what happened?” Carmen asked, running over. 

“Fuck you,” you said through gritted teeth. “Why do you fucking shout so loud?” You asked your brother. He rolled his eyes and pulled you to the other side of the kitchen and looked down at your hand. 

“Oh fuck,” Richie mumbled, joining the huddle you and Carm had made. “You’re going to have to go to the emergency room for that one.”

“No fucking shit jagoff,” you seethed. “I’ll grab my shit and drive myself. Get back to service Carm.”

He stared at you for a second. “You sure?”

“I’m fine,” you nodded and he obliged, pressing a quick kiss to your temple like he used to when you were kids. 

---------------------------

The drive to the ER was agony. Every movement of your hand was like a thousand needles being pushed into the skin and the ice pack Carm had given you wasn’t helping.  

You debated calling Syd, but this was her one night off to spend with her dad. You didn’t want to bother her, and you sure as hell didn’t want her to wait with you in the packed ER for the next 3 hours. You decided to just stare at your phone screen and scroll instagram until you were called in. 

Ring, ring, ring. 

Sydney’s contact jumped up on the screen and your senses were immediately heightened. Had Carm told her? How did she know? Maybe she didn’t know… maybe she was just calling to say that she was going to stay with her dad for the night and that she wouldn’t be home, you didn’t know.

“You got burnt?!” she questioned, concern filling her voice. 

“Who told you that?” you asked. 

“Who do you think? Carm! Why wasn’t it you who told me?” 

“You’re supposed to be with your dad tonight, I didn’t want to be a bother,” you shrugged, hearing your name being called. “Anyways, I have to go I’m being called in, love you-”

“We need to talk about this-” 

Beep beep beep. 

You hung up. 

---------------------------

After a painful 30 minute talk with a doctor, she told you that you’d be fine in 4 weeks. She bandaged you up and gave you an antibiotic, in case it became infected. Waiting for you outside was Sydney, with a very mad look on her face. 

“You should’ve called me,” she sighed, taking your not-injured hand. 

“I didn’t want to ruin the one night you had off,” you shrugged, walking out to your car with her beside you. “Plus, it’s not like it’s the first or last time I’ve been burnt, right?”

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Maybe?” you chuckled. “Look, I’m fine! They bandaged me up and I have antibiotics in case it gets infected, plus I can hold this over Carmy’s head until either of us does something worse.”

“It might get infected?” she questioned and you rolled your eyes. 

“Only if I get lazy with changing the bandage,” you sassed back. 

“Oh, so you’ll get an infection then, great!” She sighed, getting into the driver’s seat. 

“Syd, stop being mean, I’ve been through enough tonight,” you deflated. “Let’s just go home.”

Sydney started the car, driving out of the hospital with your hand in hers.

“I’m sorry, I just worry sometimes…” she muttered. 

“It’s alright,” you nodded, then brought her hand up to your mouth, where you kissed it.

---------------------------

the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[wiltkingart]

HYMN: extra story

since my rewrite of HYMN is on extended pause, ive decided to extract one of the new scenes and share it here as an extra so that it can see the light of day one way or another. its a look into atom's past when he was much younger, during his final eval for becoming a unity keeper. 3.8k words, the usual violence ahead:

-

On the morning of his final eval, the weather is just warm enough for Atom to wear one pair of gloves without running the risk of frostbite. The sun is a bright pinprick in a pale blue sky. Beside him, Lev's hands are tucked deep into his coat pockets. An icy wind cuts down the residential street and plays with the dark wisps of hair that refuse to be contained under his fur hat.

Lev hasn’t said a word since the two of them got off the metro and made their way here. Atom knows he’s nervous, he admitted so himself that morning over breakfast, but it’s still weird to see him this quiet. Out of the two of them, it’s Atom who often has little to say in any given situation. In the unusual silence, Atom tries and fails to come up with the right words to ease his worries. Pulling his scarf higher up his nose, Atom can't help but feel eager to get the mission started just so they can get this over with and Lev can stop looking like his stomach is eating him from the inside out.

Ten minutes later, Sergeant Milanova exits her armored Keeper vehicle and makes her way over to join them at the foot of a tall apartment building. Metal spikes on the soles of her snowboots noisily crunch across the frozen road until she comes to a stop in front of them.

"Your names?"

Lev stands up straight, raises his chin, and remembers to take his hands out of his pockets. Being older than Atom by 5 months, he goes first. "Lev Lukovich."

"Atom Belov."

Sergeant Milanova grunts in acknowledgement and flips through a thin folder in her hands. Snow goggles cover most of her face and her straight mouth betrays nothing of her opinion of them.

“As you already know, I am Sergeant Danilla Milanova and I will be overseeing your final evaluation today. The two of you will work together in a live field test mission where you must follow a standard takedown order and apprehend an active Target. This type of mission is the most common type of work you will be doing as active Keepers, besides regular patrolling. As active Keepers you will most commonly work in groups or pairs, unless you are promoted into a solitary position down the line. Today I will be testing your ability to work together to take down your Target in an efficient and timely manner.

“This is a live test, meaning your Target is actively wanted. This is not staged. If you fail, your actions will have severe consequences. I am here to observe, not intervene. The only reason I will step in is if I deem the mission a complete failure and have to take out the Target myself. If that happens, you will be sent back to training with the opportunity to retake this test in two years. Is that clear?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Lev and Atom answer in unison. Milanova digs through the pages in her folder until she finds what she’s looking for.

“The Target is Sergei Ivanov. Age 32, Electrician. He lives in this apartment—room number 716—along with his family. He has been found guilty of High Treason. Today is his day off and he is expected to be home all day. He is to be shown no mercy. His penalty is death.” The folder snaps shut in Milanova’s hand and she passes a look over them. “Any questions?”

Atom rests his hand on the sword strapped to his belt and looks up at the apartment building. He hopes it has a working elevator system. If not, at least a heated stairwell. But the smooth, dirty concrete walls don’t get his hopes up very high.

“Treason for what, if I may ask?”

At the sound of his voice, the world drifts to a stop, like the first gentle flakes of a snowstorm. Atom, surprised, looks at Lev. Did he really just ask that? Milanova’s straight mouth twitches and pulls down at the corners, confirming that yes—he really did.

“That is not your concern, Cadet.”

Lev swallows and looks down at his hands. Atom thinks he’s dropped it, and is about to apologize on his behalf, but Lev pushes on before Atom has a chance to open his mouth.

“I think it is my concern if he is my Target. High Treason is a serious offense and I would like to know what he did to deserve—”

“He’s guilty. That’s all you need to know.”

“But what did he do?”

Milanova takes two crunching steps forward to stand directly in front of Lev. She isn’t much taller, but that doesn’t stop her from looking down at him.

“Why does it matter to you, Cadet?”

“My—,” Lev bites his lip. Atom sees that his fists are shaking at his side. Briefly, Atom feels the urge to take them and warm them between his own hands. Maybe he should have brought an extra pair of gloves after all, only so he could give them to Lev. Maybe if he wasn’t so cold he wouldn’t feel the need to do whatever the hell this is.

“I’m sorry, forget it.” he says.

“No. This is important to you, clearly. I want to know why.” Milanova’s tone holds no warmth. Wind whistles down the street, deafening in the silence it demands. Milanova isn’t going to let Lev drop the subject, Atom knows it, as sharply as the sick feeling building in his stomach. He wants to grab Lev by the shoulders; knock some sense into him, tell him to shut the hell up, plead with him to keep his head down and obey like all the others. Like they promised each other they would, over countless nights in hushed whispers with their heads under a shared blanket. Always, with his hand an icy stone in Atom’s fist.

Instead he holds his breath and watches as the unthinkable happens.

“My father was...when I was a kid, my father was charged with Treason and taken from us. My mother and I were never told why. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for speaking out. It won’t happen again.”

Milanova laughs once, without smiling—a quick noise in her throat. “No, it won’t.” Tucking her folder under one arm, she takes another impossible step closer to Lev. “Sergei Ivanov was charged with High Treason for giving aid to other active Targets, and allowing them to escape punishment at the hands of the Law. People like him need to be eliminated for the sake of public peace. The world is a better place without people like Sergei. Without people like your father.”

Lev snaps up to look at her face, and by now his hands are balled so tightly they no longer shake. He sounds confused when he says, “He’s just an electrician.”

“He is your Enemy.”

“No,” he whispers. “No, he’s not.”

Milanova sighs through her nose. The wind screams. There’s a movement, a sickening sound, and the two of them sway. There is a knife in Lev’s belly and Milonova’s hand is on the hilt. She jerks it up, stretching the wound, and pulls out. Lev stumbles back, hitting the pale blue concrete wall. He slides to the cold ground, eyes wide, face white. The hands clutching his stomach quickly turn red—so very, very red. Atom takes a step toward him and Milanova commands him to stay put. Lev looks up at him and attempts to speak but can’t quite manage it. Or maybe he does say something but the ringing in Atom’s ears drowns it out.

It isn’t quick, and Lev keeps his eyes on Atom until the end, until his eyes turn glassy and his chest stops its panicked heaving.

“What a waste.” Milanova’s voice cuts through the noise like a—like a knife. “To make it all this way, dedicate his entire life to becoming a Keeper, only to throw it all away like this." From the corner of his eye, Atom sees her pull out a handkerchief to wipe the blade clean. "Unfortunately for you Belov, that means you’re on your own now."

A deep dark red stains the white of Lev's Keeper uniform. Today was their very first day wearing official whites. Only hours ago, in the changing room, Lev had joked about how the color washed him out.

"Belov?"

Atom blinks, tearing his eyes from the body. It takes an immense effort to look at Lev’s killer.

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, Sergeant."

"Then you may begin your mission."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Atom's feet carry him to the apartment's entrance. When the door clicks shut behind him, everything goes quiet. His own breathing sounds too loud in the vacant hallway. A choking feeling rises in his throat. Atom yanks down his scarf to heave. The image of Lev on the ground burns in his vision, like after looking at a bright light for too long, dragging across his line of sight no matter where he looks.

With effort, Atom pulls himself together before he can slip any further. He pushes himself away from the wall and breathes until the hallway stops looking like it wants to collapse on him. Until the sick in his throat is something he can leave on the floor, at his feet. To be collected after.

It turns out that the stairwell has no heat, but it at least provides shelter from the wind. Taking one step at a time, Atom climbs all seven flights.

He doesn’t know how long he stands outside the door to room 716. Somewhere down the hall a dog is barking. At one point, an elder woman wearing a colorful headscarf exits her apartment and makes her way towards him, but when she gets a better look at his uniform, she turns around and walks all the way to the stairwell at the other end of the hall. Inside his Target’s room he hears music—something slow and crackly, from centuries past. It sounds like something Lev would play from his radio, quietly from the bunk above Atom during nights when he couldn't sleep. The noise would in turn keep Atom up well into the night, but he never complained about it.

Atom raises his fist and knocks, loud and heavy.

The music dies. Footsteps approach, followed by whispers just on the other side. The door opens to a man's face. He looks older than 32, square-jawed with a graying beard. As his eyes take in his visitor his expression morphs from curiosity to thinly veiled fear.

"Sergei Ivanov?" Atom asks.

Before the Target can answer, a middle-aged woman appears over his shoulder. Her eyes are large and brown and framed by silver glasses. "Who is this?" she asks.

"Keeper Atom Belov, acting on the behalf of the United Keep. I am here to speak to Sergei Ivanov."

With a large hand the Target—Sergei—reaches up to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead. His wife's grip on his shoulder tightens. After a moment of silence, she asks Atom if he would like to come inside for a cup of tea. “We can all sit and talk at the table.” she says.

"Honey—" Sergei tries to protest, but she won’t hear it.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." With visible strain she manages to urge her husband away from the door, forcing a smile at Atom as he steps inside. He follows her to a small wooden dining table and unclips his sword, leaning it against the wall beside his chair before taking a seat.

“Sergei, could you get the teapot started? I’ll stay out here and keep our guest company.” She takes the seat in front of Atom and pointedly avoids looking at the sword. “I’m Katya,” she says. “Sorry about the mess, we weren’t expecting company today.”

From what Atom can see, the apartment is spotless, and smells like freshly baked bread. He hears Sergei in the kitchen to his left and turns to watch the open doorway.

Katya tries again to get his attention. “How long have you been a Keeper?” she asks. Atom fiddles with the knife holster on his thigh. He doesn’t feel like lying, but he doesn’t want to admit to her that he isn’t an official Keeper—not yet—so he says nothing.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look young. How old are you?”

Atom bites his tongue, but decides to answer anyway. “Sixteen.”

Her chair creaks as she leans back. “Good God.” she whispers.

Atom doesn’t look at her. She stops asking questions and sits in silence until the teapot starts to make noise. Then she excuses herself to the kitchen. Above the whine of the teapot Atom overhears Sergei’s low, pleading voice.

“Take all the money in the pantry and go with Dasha to your mother’s house. Go now, I’ll tell him you went to the store. Katya, please, I want to know you and Dasha are safe. Leave now.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Kat—”

“Let’s sit down—together, and speak to him. He’s just a kid. He has no reason to be here. Whatever this is for, there’s no reason to be afraid.

“Look at me. There is no reason for him to be here. Right?”

But Sergei doesn’t answer. Or if he does, Atom can no longer hear him above the deafening whine of the teapot. One of them finally takes it off the stove and Atom listens to the aggressive clinking of tableware before Katya comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray of warm bread, sliced strawberries, a dish of butter, and tea. She sets the table for three people despite Sergei having yet to show himself. She pours a steaming cup of black tea into a delicate porcelain cup and sets it in front of Atom before slumping back into her seat.

Somewhere in the living room, a clock ticks.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“I need to speak to Sergei.”

“About what?”

But Atom doesn’t look at her again. He pushes himself to his feet and takes up his sword. Katya stands too, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. She calls out her husband’s name in alarm. Atom finds him leaning over the kitchen sink with his back to him. His head turns, just so, when he hears Atom enter the room.

“Sergei Ivanov. The United Keep has declared you an Enemy of the public and found you guilty of High Treason. You will pay for your crime with your life. You can come with me, quietly, and I'll let you say goodbye to your family. Or we can do this another way."

Slowly, Sergei straightens his back. He lets out a shaky sigh. “What is the other way?”

“You die. Here and now.”

Sergei nods, and makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. Then he turns around with a large kitchen knife in his large hand.

"Let us see if there is a third way.”

He looks tired, but by no means does he look weak. Sergei is a large man, twice Atom’s age, and they both know there is no way out of this without a fight.

So Atom widens his stance and raises his sword. "So be it."

The Enemy takes a heavy step towards him and the kitchen is so small that there is nowhere for Atom to duck to. So he doesn't. He swings, a clean upward arc, and a scream fills his ears on impact. Bright pure red sprays the walls and ceiling and blooms across white kitchen tiles underfoot. The Enemy’s momentum propels him forward and he lands on Atom with a guttural noise, crushing him against the refrigerator. Atom drops his sword in favor of fending off the knife aiming for his face. Sergei uses the last of his strength to try and drive it through his cheek and manages to break skin. Atom feels the tip of the blade clink against his teeth at the same time that shock seizes Sergei, and he collapses to the ground, dragging the knife down with him.

Atom swears, clutching at the stinging pain in his face. He tastes blood, and the feel of it is slick against his gloved hand. Through a blinding haze of pain he sees Katya on the ground beside Sergei. Her hands, trying to close the large, weeping gash, are red. When she realizes that it's already too late and her husband is dead, she takes up Atom’s sword and stands. It shakes in her hands. Thick blood drips slowly from her fingers.

“You—,” Her eyes are wide and wild behind her glasses. “I let you into my home.” She takes a frantic step towards him. “What kind of monster are you? You—You’re nothing."

Atom lets his hand drop. The blood running down his chin almost feels like he's crying. Slowly, he stands up straight, and wraps both hands around the blade pointed at him. He pulls, and at first Katya resists. Then she catches another glimpse of the body at her feet and wrenches back in horror. Atom turns the sword around in his hands. He exhales.

Outside, the wind screams. It howls and it rages and in his ears he hears Lev pleading, ‘But what did he do?’ and there are two bodies at Atom’s feet.

He feels cold all over. Then the shaking starts. The stench of iron fills his lungs and Atom gags, stumbling from the kitchen. He drops heavily into the chair at the dining table. The clotting, drying blood on his face starts to itch. The clock keeps ticking. He fishes out a radio from his pocket and tosses it onto the table. He touches the still-full cup of tea beside it and feels warmth seep into his fingertips. It feels wrong. He returns his hands to the hilt of his sword.

A pair of eyes tracks the movement from the bottom of a narrow staircase by the front door. When Atom turns his head to look, he sees the face of a young girl staring at him from the shadows. Atom hadn’t noticed her with how still she sat there, but as soon as he makes eye contact, she stutters to her feet.

Atom knows what she sees, knows what he looks like at that moment, but he wonders if she knows that her parents are dead. He tries to say something to her but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is an ugly choked noise. At that, she makes her decision and bolts for the front door.

He stands up and manages two steps in pursuit before he stops.

She slips through the door barefoot and runs. Atom holds himself still and listens to her footsteps rapidly growing quieter as she makes her escape. His body screams at him to go after her, quickly, before he loses her trail. Keep your head down, follow your training, do what needs to be done to stay alive. But the smell of blood is still churning his stomach and she is just a child. So he refuses to take another step, despite the sudden spike of adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, urging him to go and fulfill his duty. Or else—

Scrubbing at the crusted blood around his mouth, Atom spins back to the dining table and picks up his radio. He clicks it on and tunes in to the channel for body collection. After listing off the apartment address and room number, he reports a total of two bodies and sits back down to wait for their arrival. He keeps his back to the door and stares at a single point on the wall and waits.

A team of four shows up, clad from head to toe in stiff white plastic garb. One of them greets Atom and tries to make small talk but Atom only motions to the kitchen and tries not to look at anyone. The rest of them don’t pay him any attention anyway, and get right to the task at hand. They make quick work of it, and in a matter of minutes Sergei and Katya are neatly hauled out of their home in two shiny white body bags. Atom follows them out of the apartment just as the cleaning crew arrives.

Outside, the world is just the same as it was before, and Milanova is still polishing her knife. She looks up at the commotion at the door and nods at him. Atom walks over to stand beside her. She slides the knife into her holster before giving him a stiff smile.

“Congratulations,” she says. “You passed. I’ll get the paperwork started tonight, and by tomorrow morning you should be able to start your duties as an official Unity Keeper. Welcome aboard, Belov.”

Her hand lands heavily on Atom’s shoulder. She gives it a tight squeeze. “Would you like me to call medical for your face, or do you want to catch a ride with me back to the base?”

“It can wait.” Atom musters a shrug. “Just a scratch.”

“That’s going to get infected without treatment.” she says, as a matter of fact. But she doesn’t push it. She takes her hand from Atom’s shoulder and he takes a small step away. His attention lands on the body collection crew as they begin lifting each bag into the back of their van. Four body bags. Atom ticks off the names in his head. Sergei, Katya, Lev, and a fourth, smaller lump.

Atom has to grip the wall behind him to stay upright.

“You passed your test today, but I hope you know that in the future, there will be no leniency for the type of mistake you made. I understand that you were not intended to take on this mission by yourself, which is why I’m willing to look past your error. But for all future missions, from this day forward, you will be expected to take out all witnesses, despite their involvement with the Target, just as you have been taught all throughout training. Do I make myself clear?”

Atom feels numb from the inside out. A bone-deep, chilling numbness.

“Yes, Sergeant.” he says.

“Good. One more thing, I wanted to give this to you. As a reminder.”

She walks over to the back of the body van and presents him with a bundle of white fur. Lev’s fur hat. Atom takes it and holds it. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to leave, he wants to go back to his bed at the barracks, he wants to go to medical, he wants to get back on the metro and rewind this entire day, but the gift works as Milanova intended—Atom digs his fingers into it and knows that there is no going back.

“Blood is the price for peace, Belov. Never forget that.” she says, and Atom—sixteen years old and a killer for the first time in his life—commits those words to memory.

[rosewaterandivy]

stop making plans / start making sense

Summary: eddie finds himself smack dab in the middle of an ap english iv class, all because some do-gooders at Hawkins High happen to “believe in him” or whatever. the catch? it just so happens to be your ap english class.

A continuation of this blurb and the result of an ongoing eddie munson hc convo with @powderblueblood 💚

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1771

It’s his second time around as a senior, not even the first week of school under his belt when Mrs. Meloy calls him into her office. The counseling center, which he is unfortunately far too familiar with, is busy as it usually is at the beginning of the year— schedule changes, registration, students complaining about not getting late arrival or early dismissal. Before he can settle in one of the worn chairs by the door, a woman pops her outside of an office door. She glances around, blue eyes searching for someone or something, before landing on Eddie.

“Think the wall can hold itself up just fine Edward,” She calls as she opens the door to her office and waves him in.

He grouses at the use of his full name and rolls his eyes, languidly strolling into the smaller room that smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

She’s turned around, fingers flicking through thick manilla files in the cabinet in front of her. A cup of coffee sits on her cluttered desk, cold, from the looks of it. Mrs. Meloy mutters under her breath before turning from the filing cabinet in annoyance.

“It’s only the first week of school,” Eddie points out, “I haven’t done anything.”

The yet between them goes unspoken.

The older woman merely raises a knowing brow and takes her seat opposite him. She sorts through a few loose papers on her desk before letting out a surprised huff, “Gotcha!” Flipping through the file, his file, Eddie supposes, her eyes scan over what is undoubtedly his lack of academic achievement.

Satisfied with her perusal, she sets the papers down on her desk and addresses him.

“Round two.” Mrs. Meloy begins, resignedly. “Hopefully the NHS tutoring placement will be to your benefit Mr. Munson. Miss Wheeler is an exemplary student and I have high hopes for you under her tutelage.”

She then runs through his current schedule, emphasizing the classes he needs to perform well in (mostly all of them, save for English and a few others).

“Which brings me to the reason for our meeting today,” she says with a smile. “It has not escaped my notice, nor that of Mrs. Seguin, that you are quite adept in English class. At least,” she qualifies with a pull of her lips, “When properly motivated.”

And yeah, okay, he was decidedly not trying all that hard in Mrs. S.’s senior English class last year and he breezed through with a respectable A minus.

Wayne even got a little choked up when he read that particular report card.

“I guess so,” he says with a cross of his arms.

“Rather than having you repeat the same content and curriculum this year, Mrs. Seguin and I have petitioned the principal for permission to move you into a more challenging and appropriate English class.”

Well, that perks him right up.

“Principal Higgins has agreed to the change, with a few stipulations.”

Of fucking course.

The gist of it is, Eddie’s admittance to the AP English IV class will be probationary for the first quarter, given his past exploits and record. If he can keep his grades at a respectable B across the board, Eddie will be permanently placed in Mrs. Seguin’s advanced class. If he can’t, it’s back to regular Senior English with that crone, Mrs. Cotter.

Easy peasy.

And he’s almost out the door when Meloy stops him with a furitive, “Eddie,” and pauses to look him in the eye. “We believe in you and we went to the mat with Higgins on this.” She says emphatically, standing up to escort him through the office, “You can do this, Eddie, we know you can.”

She smiles and sends him off with his newly revised schedule, the summer reading assignment, and information for Wayne to peruse about Advanced Placement courses.

The rest of that day unfolded as expected despite his new schedule. Slight differences were made, such as: Eddie sitting in the middle of the class instead of the back, hopefully next to Buckley or Wheeler if he could swing it.

With Nancy’s help, he was able to narrow the summer reading options down to books that would hold his interest. The librarian, Ms. Berkowitz, was more than happy to oblige him with checking out a copy of Notes from the Underground by some Russian dude whose name Eddie couldn’t possibly pronounce.

The bell for the final class of the day rang just as he slipped through Mrs. Seguin’s door.

“Timely as ever,” she teased and kicked the door stop into the classroom.

Her room was the same as last year, but the mood within was markedly different— more relaxed and at ease. Students sat where they pleased and chatted amongst themselves while Mrs. S. checked off the roll and fielded a few questions from the group.

Eddie settled in the only open seat right in between Nancy and yourself. He tried not to be offended that you didn’t even glance up from your furious scribbling on the page, seemingly writing a mile a minute, as if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

Ink smeared on the college ruled paper underneath your hand.

Eddie found it endearing.

“Okay, okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Mrs. S. set her clipboard on the desk and leaned against it with a casual grace.

She was one of the newer teachers to Hawkins High, from some big name school out west with not one, but two degrees framed on the wall behind her desk. She was young and quick to laugh; the older teachers were a bit weary of her and those “new agey” teaching philosophies, but the results produced were proof enough for her to granted the AP English III and IV courses for this year. According to Nancy, she’d only had AP juniors and regular seniors last year.

Eddie, being one of those regular students, would know.

“Alright, hopefully we’ve brought in our summer reading novels today. The goal is to break you all into thematic groups based on your selected text. From there, you will collaborate with your peers to create a presentation on your findings.”

With this, she steps away from her desk and begins writing on the chalkboard.

“Consider such things as character archetype, thematic resonance, literary merit, of course. But more importantly,” she says, turning to the class with a smile, “How did the story affect you? What new perspective or insights were gained? What concepts were reinforced? Did you despise the protagonist, or did you identify too closely with them?”

The class has fallen to a hush, you’ve stopped writing and are rapt with attention. Eddie, used to overworked teachers and coaches who could care less, is shocked.

“I remind you, as always, that there are no right or wrong answers in here. As long as you can support your interpretation—” She begins.

“With evidence from the text,” The class choruses in reply.

“Good, exactly.”

At that, students break away into smaller groups and begin talking in hushed tones about the project.

“Whatcha got there?”

This, from Robin, who unceremoniously plucks Eddie’s book from his grasp. She flips through it, eyes lighting in interest, just as Mrs. Seguin makes her way over.

“Eddie, always good to see you.”

“Right back at ya, Mrs. S.”

She smirks, eyeing Robin scanning through Dostoevsky. “Had a feeling you’d gravitate toward the nihilists. Got a chance to start reading yet?”

He swipes the book back from Robin and ignores her petulant pout.

“Uh, kinda. Started it during lunch today.”

She nods knowingly, “Well, I’m sure you’ll be caught up in no time.” Surveying the classroom she nods to herself, “And now that I think of it,” She turns back to Eddie, “Looks like you’re in the right group over here.”

He almost says there is no group over here, but then he notices Nancy and Robin chatting with you. Feeling his stare, you turn back from where you’ve set up shop on Robin’s desk and jerk your head, an invitation by any other name.

“C’mon Munson, we don’t have all day.” You say this softly, chidingly, with no real heat behind it. Your eyes narrow as a group gets particularly loud across the way, “Because I’m certainly not about to let Phillips show us up.”

“Oh, bite me!” Phillips crows from his desk.

“You wish, you cretin!”

Eddie does his best to hide the curl of his lips and stifle a laugh while Phillips sulks at his desk.

Robin thumbs through a worn copy of Nausea while Nancy talks Eddie through the plan thus far. She’s read The Death of Ivan Ilyich and come to the conclusion that the novels in the group are both deeply depressing and deal with themes of existentialism, and in some cases, nihilism.

“I dunno. Philosophy is all well and good, but,” you pipe up, “Mine had elements of magical realism and a satirical critique of Soviet Russia.”

Eddie attempts to process what you and Wheeler have just said. Sensing a lull in the conversation, you slyly pass your novel over to Eddie and start to take notes over whatever it is Nancy is rambling on about.

The Master and Margartia.

Huh, weird title.

He reads the blurb on the back cover and kind of regrets not choosing this one to read. Maybe you’ll let him borrow it after the project is over. Setting it back on your desk, Eddie peruses the syllabus Mrs. S. must’ve slipped him.

“So, will that work for you Eddie?”

Lost in a daze of genres and titles, he looks up. “Sorry, what was that?”

Nancy sighs, “We’re going to meet at my house on Thursday for a study group. I know you and Mike have that thing on Fridays, so.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks Wheeler; that’ll work.”

With a smile, she goes back to chatting with Robin.

“Psst.”

A neatly folded paper lands on his desk. Eddie glances at you, curious, taking in your arched brow and smirk.

Scary smart, he reminds himself as he unfurls the page.

I know Nance is your NHS tutor, but if you feel like you need to catch-up for this class, give me a call.

Your deft hand and neatly printed letters dance across the page, an errant smear of ink where the heel of your hand drug across the paper. The digits of your phone number underneath your missive make his heart race.

Annotating your copy of Dune without permission was one thing. And at that you didn’t even bat an eye, but this…

Well, this had potential.

He tries not to let the possibility of what if turn to ash in his mouth.

[whalesforhands]

HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!

tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?

tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx

tw: yandere

lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced

what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?

you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?

you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.

it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”

it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.

and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.

maybe that was how it started.

“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.

“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.

“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“

“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”

“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.

“In about 6 months.”

ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.

“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”

and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.

so much better than being out on field, right?

geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.

“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”

maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.

though, if you still have some fight in you…

out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…

or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.

11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.

they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.

but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?

And you got hurt from your decisions?

let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.

[bingo6776]

Amber Freeman x Reader

disgustingly unedited, ive never written for Amber freeman before but shes bae and hot so yk heyo. if theres any feedback or ideas, my asks or dm are open

probs ooc? again idek im just sleep deprived 

1.6k

You were tired.

You were completely and totally exhausted.

 You had barely slept last night after you had heard about the murders, another fuck face trying to make a name for themselves whilst hiding under the Ghostface mask. Why did you still live in Woodsboro? Fuck knows.

 You were scared shitless, who knew who the next victim was going to be? Whilst as far as you knew, you had no ties to the original Woodsboro murderers or actual reason to be targeted, that didn’t prevent the anxiety that consumed your entire being, feeling like you were edging closer and closer to a break down as said anxiety played ‘keep aways’ with your sleep.

 So yeah, its suffice to say that 8 hours of the barbaric education system was not good for your health, mental or physical.

 Hence, why you were more so dragging your feet than actually walking through the hallways. You didn’t even have the energy to dodge most of the students that were too caught up in their own worlds to pay attention to the fact that other people actually existed and wouldn’t just part like the red sea for them. Instead, you made a mental list of the all the people that slammed into your shoulder, swearing that one day you’d smite them down – the kind of thoughts only a sleep deprived, and still overly caffeinated person would have.

 All you wanted to do was go home, get into the baggiest, most homeless looking outfit you had and watch movies.

 And at some point spam Amber until she ‘caved’ (jumped in her car the first chance she got) and came over to indulge in your lazy evening.

 Which is why, when your eyes finally laned on your girlfriend, you felt some of your tension leave your body, a warmth filling its place.

 She was leaning up against one of the wall lockers, a scowl on her face as she watched Wes and Mindy argue you with one another, rolling her eyes occasionally as if they were something much more important she should be doing than listen to the childish bickering her friends had daily.

 As you shuffled closer to the group, you let a small smile tug at your tired features as Amber’s gaze landed on you, her bored, aggravated expression softening slightly at the edges as her face relaxed, her lips titling up slightly in a smirk instead of an actual smile.

 Amber Freeman may be soft as fuck for you, but she was very much still the dark, brooding Amber everyone else knew. Just with you, she was slightly warmer, less sharp edged.

 Once you had gotten close enough to the group, she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the other hand simultaneously pulling your bag from you as she flung the backpack across her own shoulder, ignoring the teasing look from Mindy and the eye roll from Wes as he tried to reegange Mindy in their conversation.

 At seeing the way your body seemingly slumped in on itself, every movement taking more energy than it plausibly should, she placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

 “Is everything okay, my love?” she uttered lowly, looking at you with such an openly worried expression you almost melted on the spot.

 You simply hummed in response as you leant into her body, your face landing in the crook of her neck as your arms encircled her waist, “just tired.”

 “Aww, would you just look at these adorable little love birds we’ve got here?” you heard Mindy tease, no doubt a cocky grin on her face. If you actually cared, you’d pull yourself away from Amber’s grounding embrace to flip her off, but did you care? Honestly, not a single fuck was given.

 You were far too sleepy, and much more comfortable with the warmth Amber exuded to give a fuck about anything, actually.

 One of Ambers arms left you shoulders, probably doing the flipping off for you. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, and fuck off right now, I’m going to kill you,” the sweet voice Amber forced on made the threat seem even more haunting. “Very slowly.”

 You lightly poked at her side, you knew she’d never actually hurt one of her friends, but you’d spoken about the right time and place to threaten people with death. School after an attempted murder was most definitely not one of them.

 “C’mon, Amber, you know I could take your ass,” Mindy quipped, knowing full well that whilst you had wrapped yourself around the taller girl, Amber wouldn’t move a muscle until you let her go.

 “You fucking wish,” you girlfriend practically growled out. “You wouldn’t even last two minutes.”

 “Oh, yeah, wanna bet? Come at me right now then, if you’re so big and bad.”

 Sighing heavily, you placed a soft kiss on Amber’s neck. “I swear to all that is good and holy, if you even think about moving right now, I’m going to be the one killing you, do not test me.”

 Mindy could barely hold back the laugh that overtook her body at the murderous glare Amber shot her way instead of, well, actually shooting her – unbeknownst to Mindy it was a very real, and a rapidly growing, possibility.

 It was honestly comical to see the sarcastic and at times outright scary, Amber Freeman trying to intimidate the other girl, whilst you were clinging to her body like Amber was your saving grace, the only source of warmth in the middle of the Antarctic.

 Yet, as amusing as it was, even Mindy eventually got bored of the banter which eventually simmered to one sided taunts as you silently soothed Amber’s simmering anger. So, being the mature person Mindy believed she was, she wandered away to go see how riled up she could get her twin instead.

 Once you heard Mindy’s steps retreat in the emptying hallway, you pulled away slightly from Ambers body, keeping your arms around her waist.

 “You know, if you keep wishing death on your friends, people might start to think you’re the new Ghostface,” you looked up at her, eyes trailing how her lips drew up in a lazy smile, your eyes eventually locking onto her own, and the all too familiar feeling of falling into the dark orbs encompassed your body.

 “Please. Little old me? I wouldn’t hurt a fly,” her voice was gentle, her gaze soft as she slowly leant down, her lips grazing yours as she whispered the last of her sentence before she finally planted a soft kiss onto your waiting lips.

 it only lasted a few seconds before Amber pulled away, one of her hands running through your hair before landing at your neck. For a few seconds you just stood like that, arms around each other, letting the rare instance of quiet fall over you.

 You knew for sure that if you had walked in on such a seemingly intimate moment between another couple at school, you’d gag and cringe as you poured bleach into your eyes.

 But with Amber it was different, everything was just so overwhelmingly perfect that at times you found yourself wondering when it was all going to go shattering to the ground, leaving you heartbroken. As soon as those thoughts would take hold, Amber would be there. Whispering sweet nothings to you as she held you close.

 Before you fell too deeply into your thoughts, you felt Ambers arms leave your body, her hand clasping onto one of your own as your arms fell to your sides.

 “So, go ahead. Spill, what’s got you so tired today, hm?” she gently ran her thumb up and down your hand as you began walking towards the parking lot, where your friends where waiting before the group eft for the lunch period.

 “After everything that happened with Tara, its been hard to do anything, let alone sleep,” for a second you saw something flash across Amber’s face, but it was gone as quick as it had come, the only sign that anything had changed at all was in the way she pulled you close as she stopped walking.

 Placing a delicate kiss to the back of your hand, Amber tried to keep her voice steady, “as long as you’re with me, I promise you with every ounce of blood in my body that you’ll be safe,” she looked deeply into your eyes, trying to convey that she’d lay her own life down if it meant you could keep yours, “I’ll protect you.”

 Shocked by the sudden deepness to her words, a deepness you didn’t completely grasp, you only blinked up at her.

 After a beat of silence, you smiled up at her. “I know, I know. I trust you,” not liking the heavy silence that weighed on your shoulders, a far cry from the way you could both usually spend hours in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence, you smirked up at her, “plus, you know I’d have Ghostface on his ass before the bitch could blink.”

 A mischievous smile crept onto Amber’s face, “oh, really?” she jokingly leant back slight, as if she was assessing how likely that would be – you both knew it was complete bullshit, but hey, you never know right?

 “You best bet, bitch,” you resumed the walk to your friends, tugging your girlfriend behind you as she let out a loud laugh, the sound you rarely ever heard outside of the confines of one of your bedrooms leading you to laugh alongside her as people around you both gave you concerned look as the ever so stoic girl laughed in a way that sounded… free of sadistic intent?

 Yeah, Amber was most definitely a simp.

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL’S BEACH ࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

THREE — iv bags and daffodils

"he looks at me like I'm below him. he doesn't say it nor does he act that way but his eyes say it all. patient likes loves power. he craves it" — MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Maya faces a moral dilemma, trying to pick between her livelihood and ethics all while under the watchful eye of the hospital director and her patient, Kurokawa Izana.

chapter warnings: inaccurate depictions of psychiatric hospitals, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression, drug use, allusions to sex, abuse of authority, power imbalance, unethical use of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of rape, mentions of murder

word count: 4213

moodboard | masterlist | previous | chapter 4

Pretty is what Kurokawa Izana would use to describe Kaneko Maya. She was so pretty. Kaneko Maya was cute, funny, pretty and just Manjiro's type. Had his younger brother not been a depressed little shit right now, Izana would have gotten Ran to gift her to Manjiro. Even if he did now, Izana doubts Manjiro would even do anything. He heard that depression affects the libido. Even before he was admitted into this shitty psychiatric hospital, no matter how many hostess bars he took Manjiro to, how many hookers he called over, how many strip clubs— Manjiro was just bored. For a while, he thought the guy was probably a nervous virgin who only knew how to fight but after a drunken conversation with Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro's childhood friend, he finds out that was in fact not the case. Manjiro was pretty popular with the girls when they were in middle school(due to his shoulder-length blonde hair and girls having a huge thing for pretty boys with the deep voices). Manjiro was 100%, not a virgin and just depressed as hell. "Kakucho" Izana says holding the flip phone against his ear "How's everything going?"

Friday came by pretty quickly as usual. "It's fine as usual. You'll be out on Monday. Are you excited?" Kakucho, his childhood and right-hand man asks

Izana leans back in his shitty bed and stares out the window. It's about 10:30 am, the sun is still rising. "Yeah, about time. If it wasn't for the cute little doctor that gives me company during her night shift, would've gone fuckin' crazy for real"

"That sounds unprofessional" Kakucho mutters in disappointment

Izana laughs. "It's actually not like that. Cute kid, fresh outta uni"

Kakucho laughs. It's rare to hear Kakucho laugh. "I don't believe that one-bit Izana"

"Well, you better. Kaneko Maya, real eye candy" Izana hums and stares up at the white ceiling and starts to ramble about her "talks a lot and y’know I usually hate girls that yap but she's a real cutie. Thinkin' she can fix me and shit. It’s so fuckin’ cute. She's got this little notebook she takes notes on when she talks to me. Nosey as fuck but real cute. Got these blowjob eyes—"

"She's a psychiatrist, she's supposed to be nosey," Kakucho cuts him off before he can get vulgar, simultaneously ignoring the number of times Izana used the word cute to describe his psychiatrist "What did you say her name was again?"

Izana scoffs. "You gonna do a background check on my little doctor Kakucho? This late in too? 'M leavin' Monday"

"It's my job"

Of course, it was. Kakucho was protective. Overprotective at times. It was one of the reasons Izana kept him around. To feel wanted(and because he cared about him but Izana won't say that out loud). "Kaneko Maya. How 'bout ya’ tell me what cha' find when you're done"

"Of course"

And they end the phone call not long after. Izana sits in silence for a while and sighs tiredly. He stares down his left arm with the iv in it. Apparently whatever medication was being given to him was essential to his recovery but he really fuckin' hated it. He felt like actual shit. Tired all the time, sleepy as shit. He hated it. Oh well, he was getting out this Monday anyway. He had been here for 2 months and Maya had only been working here for a month. Perhaps had she been here the whole time the first month would have been more bearable as well. He was leaving Monday anyway. Maybe if Maya was that kind of girl she'd take up the offer of coming to his beach house and maybe she'd even put Manjiro in a good mood with those cute puppy eyes she has. After all, Manjiro has always had a fixation on cute and pretty things and Izana knew him long enough to know that. Izana hears his door click and inwardly sighs in annoyance at whoever was going to enter his room. He glares at the door but his harsh gaze immediately turns into one of surprise when seeing his night shift doctor. "what are you doing here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at Maya

Maya is wearing her blue scrubs, her white doctor's coat sleeves folded to her elbows. She's got the pager clipped to her belt, the key bracelet thing around her wrist and her ID card securely clipped to the breast pocket on her coat. "wow no hi or good morning or how are you?" Maya asks sarcastically, the door shutting with a click behind her

Her eyes are slightly red and she looks exhausted. Her hair is tied back in a bun with a few curly strands framing her face. "Hi, good morning, how are you?" Izana says sarcastically then changes immediately to a more serious and authoritative tone "You ended your shift 6 hours ago. Go home"

Maya's shift starts from 9 pm to 4 am, she brings the patients dinner because the nurses pushed the job onto her, brings the trays back and down to the kitchen, then comes back up and sticks around as there wasn't much to do unless one of the patients/criminals, needed something which wasn't often. "Yeah... But I fell asleep in the breakroom after my shift and the old man in charge of the morning told me to take his shift and went home before I could say anything" she complained and plopped down on the chair and bolted down on the floor by his bed "I complained to the director but he told me that since I was here anyway I should just take the shift and he'd paid me extra"

Izana can't help but roll his eyes. She really wanted to pay off those loans huh? "I think that's called exploitation" He says

Which is huge coming from Izana considering what he does for a living. "Yeah but... Money" she shrugs "I get to leave at lunchtime though and don't have to come back for the night shift"

"Oh gee! How great!" Izana says sarcastically once again

Izana feels a bit odd being annoyed about the fact that his doctor is being taken advantage of. He's known her for a month and he knows she's kind and these other shitty old people employed here liked to take advantage of her kindness. To make it worse she rarely complained about it. Oh well, at least he gets to see her longer and talk to her for longer. "Haven't seen those before" Izana says looking at the two necklaces she was wearing

One was a gold oval pendant with a delicate border and the outline of a flower in the center of it. The second necklace, also gold, was a small butterfly pendant. Cute. "What's the thing in the center of the coin?" He asks "A rose?"

Maya looks down at her necklace and realizes they are untucked. It was a huge safety hazard considering she could be choked. But Sunshine Grove was a shitty psychiatric hospital and none of the employees really took safety seriously(Maya neither) so they rarely removed jewelry and just kept things like necklaces tucked under their clothes. "Ah~ it's a daffodil," Maya tells him, touching the pendant "my birth flower. My birthday's in March"

Izana chuckles. How cute. "Your birth flower, hm..."

One thing Izana liked about Maya was that she tended to ramble about random things that interested her. "Oh oh have you heard that greek myth story about daffodils?" She asks

Izana would usually be annoyed at this kind of rambling but perhaps Maya had the privilege to just talk. Pretty privilege is what Ran calls it. Izana forgot what he meant since he usually tunes whatever Ran says, out but he figures maybe this is what it is. "So basically there was this guy Narcissus. He was supposedly really good-looking. But he never found anyone that could attract him. He left a long trail of distressed and broken-hearted maidens, and one or two young men fell as well" she giggles a bit then continues the story "Then, one day, he happened to see his own reflection in a pool of water and, thus, discovered the ultimate in unrequited love and fell in love with himself. Obviously, this one-way relationship went nowhere, and Narcissus, unable to draw himself away from the pool, pined away in despair until he finally died of thirst and starvation"

Izana raises a brow. "What?"

"Yeah, and he turned into a daffodil. So another name for daffodils is Narcissus" 

Izana can't help but laugh. What a stupid story. "I'm guessing this shitty story has a moral like all Greek myths"

Maya nods. "I think it was a warning not a moral. Something like ‘love and obsession lie closer together than we think’ or something" 

Oh. Time passes by when Maya rambles. She was honestly the highlight of his day or well, night. But right now it was the day so she was the highlight of his day. He figures that since she's here right now she won't be here tonight and since it was Friday he won't see her till Monday. He’ll stay a while before he leaves on Monday to say goodbye. Time passes by fast and soon comes lunch. "You know doctor, if there's one thing I'll miss about this shitty place it'll be you talking my ear off" Izana says playfully

Maya laughs. "really well—" she pauses taking in his word "what do you mean? I'm still gonna be working here y'know"

"I'm leaving Monday. Getting discharged and will be back to my normal life" He tells her with a grin "what are you gonna miss me?"

He's being playful but the expression on Maya's face makes him confused. Why is she looking at him like that. He watches her pull out the little notebook of her's and flip through the pages. Izana watches as she mutters something to herself and all he hears are little curse. "Hey, doctor... What's wrong?" He asks in confusion

Why was this her reaction? Maya gets up and walks over to where his IV bag was hung up. She looks long and hard at the bag then turns to him. She's standing right next to him. She rarely gets this close. "You're leaving on Monday?" she repeats with a frown “like discharged and going home?”

Izana is starting to get worried and a bit aggravated, not understanding why she's looking at him like that. As far as he knew she knew nothing about him or what he did. So why was she giving him that look? "Doctor. I'd like to know why you're looking at me like that" Izana says slowly

He isn't nervous. Not at all. A man like him isn't nervous. He's concerned. There's a huge difference between the two emotions. He watches Maya take a breath. "Um... Mr. Kurokawa..." She pauses and looks at him nervously "What... What are you here for? What are you admitted here for?"

That question confuses him. Why was she asking him that? Shouldn't she know? "You should know what I'm here for" He tells her lowly, narrowing her eyes at him "You're my—"

"Mr. Kurokawa" Maya says, her voice a bit breathy 

She looks scared almost and it's starting to annoy the hell out of Izana. "Cocaine addiction. Now tell me why you're making that face"

Maya looks nervous, scared and confused. So many different emotions swirl around in her eyes. "So... You're not a convicted criminal?"

He was 100% a criminal but not a convicted one. No one has caught him yet but Maya didn't need to know that. "No and why does that relate to this?"

Maya looks like she might throw up. "You're here for addiction but you're on the fourth floor and not second" She says

"Why should I be on the second floor?" He asks, his voice demanding and angry

Maya sucks in a breath. "second floor is where patients admitted for addiction stay... You're on the fourth floor where the convicted criminals who got off by claiming insanity"

Oh. Oh… Maya chews nervously at her bottom lip. She looks like she might throw up and Izana is pissed. He's fucking pissed. He watches Maya pat her pockets and she pulls out a piece of gauze and then takes his hand. He's about to ask what she's doing but then she puts the gauze pad over the insertion site as gently as she can. She starts to pull it out, increasing pressure as she smoothly withdraws the catheter. Izana stays silent and watches her stick a bandaid to the area. "keep pressure on it for a few minutes" she mumbles and grabs the IV bag

Izana puts his thumb over his wrist where the IV was inserted and watches her. She looked like she was going to be sick and it was pissing him off. What the hell? Maya is about to leave but he stops her. "Doctor... If this is what I think it is..." Izana says slowly

Maya just shakes her head and leaves his room. Izana narrows his eyes, staring at the door. He looks down at his wrist where the IV was just taken out of and was now replaced with a bandage. He stares for a moment longer then pulls out the flip-phone again and calls Kisaki. 

"What's this?" Maya threw the half-empty IV bag onto the hospital director's desk

The hospital director, Doctor Nakamura, narrows his eyes at her. "I don't appreciate you coming in without knocking Doctor Kaneko" He says lowly

Maya wasn't going to back down today. She needed answers. She may be new, she may have just graduated a few months ago but what was wrong was wrong. "Why is Mr Kurokawa on the fourth floor and not the second? He's here for cocaine addiction not for a court order" Maya was going to get her answers today "Why is he being given a sedative and that too, that high of a dose?"

She didn't care about superiority or anything. It didn't matter. Not now when a patient was clearly not being treated for what he came for. This was against the ethics of a doctor. "Doctor Kaneko..." Doctor Nakamura says, grabbing the half-empty IV bag with a dark almost crazed look in his eyes "That man... That man is evil incarnate—"

Maya rubs her temples. "Cocaine addiction does not make a man evil incarnate. You run a psychiatric hospital you can’t say things like that. Whatever it is you did, whatever it is you're doing is wrong" Maya says sternly

This was making her sick. She couldn't believe this. She knew Sunshine Grove was shitty with how they'd push all the work onto her but she didn't think it was so shitty that they'd give a patient a drug they didn't even need. This was disgusting.  "Doctor Kaneko. You don't know what he did. this is much deeper than cocaine addiction"

"He's getting out on Monday! Mr. Kurokawa has been here for 2 months" Maya argues "If he did something so bad, he wouldn't be leaving. He'd be in jail"

Doctor Nakamura doesn't look like he has the patience for this. But Maya doesn't either. What was wrong, was wrong. "Listen Miss Kaneko..." He says slowly, now looking very aggravated, no longer using her proper title "We'll have this conversation on Monday when your shift starts. How about you go home? You must be exhausted"

It wasn't a suggestion but an order. "Unless you want to start looking for another hospital that will hire you, Miss Kaneko"

Maya feels a lump rise in her throat. No. Nonononono. No. She can't lose her job. She can't. She stares at Doctor Nakamura with wide eyes. This wasn't fair. She was trying to do the right thing and— shit. She opens her mouth to say something, to try and argue, to at least give him a threat of reporting him for mistreating Kurokawa Izana but nothing comes out. Maya feels powerless. It was between her livelihood and her morals. Was this what her mother meant? Was this what she meant when she said it was hard to be a doctor? Maya thought psychiatrists were different. She thought... She thought... This wasn't fair. She clenches his fists and lowers her head. "Yes sir" she says in defeat and promptly leaves the office

Maya walks back to the lockrooms with her head down. She feels like shit. She can't believe she gave in that easily. She hates herself. She can't even get herself to go back up to Izana's room and give him an explanation. She's horrible. She's a shit person and she knows that the guilt is gonna make her sick till she throws up. Maya pulls her hair out of the bun and runs her fingers through it angrily as she walks into the locker room without paying attention to her surroundings. stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid— "shit!"

Maya looks up at realizes she just had her book main character moment where she bumps into the really hot guy's rock-hard chest. The guy no doubt was very hot. He's a security guard by the looks of the uniform but doesn't look like anyone she's seen on duty before. He has black hair parted in the center, olive-toned skin and heterochromatic eyes, one red and the other silver. But what really caught Maya's eye was the scar on his face. Starting from his left ear, going over the corner of his left(silver) eye then up across his forehead and disappearing into his hairline. Maya stops staring and lowers her gaze. "S-sorry" she stutters out "I wasn't watching where I was going. My bad"

He's tall and oh... Wow, he's well-built. Maya has to will herself to tear her gaze away from his chest. This guy 100% had a fricken six-pack underneath that uniform. "It's fine..." He pauses and looks at her up and down "You look tired Doctor"

Maya laughs nervously. Oh man, this guy was hot. It's almost making her forget about the guilt. Oh wait, nope she remembered it again. "Well, I'm new and you know, these oldies like pushing their work onto the newbies," She says with a shrug "I'm going home right now though... I haven't seen you around though"

The man is staring at her ID card pinned to her coat. "Hm.. Yeah, I am... I'll be taking the night shift from now on. 4th floor. They're just gonna be showing me around today"

Maya's eyes light up. New eye candy for the 4th floor now that Izana was leaving? Okay, maybe that makes her feel a little better. "Oh I work night shifts on the fourth floor too" she gives the man a friendly smile "I'm Doctor Kaneko Maya"

The man nods. Professional but also somewhat friendly. "Hitto Kakucho. I prefer just Kakucho"

Hitto? That was an odd last name. She doesn't think she's ever heard it before. But his odd last name slipped her mind pretty quickly due to the guilt she was feeling and the unholy thoughts about Kakucho that were going through her head. Oh man, he's hot and these contrasting feelings are making her head hurt. "I'll be seeing you on Monday then Doctor" Kakucho says "Get home safe"

Maya nods and Kakucho brushes past her. The locker room is once again engulfed in silence and now all that's left is Maya's guilt. She sighs and texts Chifuyu to ask him to pick her up. 

Maya sits outside in the reception area waiting for Chifuyu to come get her. She usually drives herself but last night Chifuyu insisted on driving her last night. Maya stares at the white tiled floor, sighing for the nth time. She felt like actual shit. The guilt is making her sick. Izana had been given that damn sedative for 2 months. Sometimes she'd administer it to him too. For what? For some messed up reason, she's still yet to find out. Maya feels guilty and gross and just horrible. She wants to cry. She hates this. None of this was fair. Why did it have to be her patient? Had she really just got herself caught up in something stupid all for the sake of money? Shit shit shit Maya really hated herself right now. "fuck~" she whines to herself and leans forward till her forehead touches her knees while she sits in the chair 

She feels like a stupid idiot. She should have just asked Izana what he was here for on the first day instead of trying to be nice and let him open up on his own. Now look where being nice got her. Maya flinches as her phone vibrates. She gets up and grabs her bag off the floor. It was probably Chifuyu. She bids goodbye to the man at the reception and leaves the building at the sight of a black car outside. Except it's not Chifuyu leaning against the car, it's Naoto. Her cheeks flush. Of-fucking-course Chifuyu was trying to play matchmaker. Right now wasn't a good time with how sick she felt. "hey" Naoto says with a small smile

He looks shy and had it not been for her guilt, Maya knows she'd probably be feeling the same way. "H-Hey, did Chifuyu send you?" Maya asks nervously "I'm so sorry"

Naoto shakes his head and opens the passenger seat of his car. "Oh no don't worry. Was on a break anyway. Chifuyu said he was busy and told me to come" 

Maya slides into the passenger seat and after making sure she's sitting comfortably he closes the door. Maya puts her bag on the floor of the car and puts on her seat belt. Naoto gets into the driver's side and starts the car. "I thought you had the night shift, what are you doing here so late?" He asks putting on his seatbelt

"They had a shortage... I'll be getting paid for overtime though so it's fine" Maya says trying to ignore the shitty feeling of guilt that just isn't going away

Oh man, she needed a drink. "You look exhausted. Should get some sleep when I drop you home" Naoto tells her as he pulls out of the parking lot and then out of the front gate of the hospital

"Yeah, I will.... gonna shower and just sleep and..." She pauses and thinks for a moment as they make it onto the main road "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did" Naoto points out with a small laugh and Maya can't help but laugh as well. "I'm kidding, ask away"

She thinks for a moment and tries her best to word her question. Perhaps getting an outside opinion would make her feel better. "You're a police officer, right? H-Has there ever been a time where you had to choose between your job or..." she pauses "Livelihood is a better word... Um... Has there ever been a time when you had to choose between your livelihood and your morals?"

Naoto looks surprised by her question. He keeps his eyes on the road as he answers. "W-well yeah... Have to all the time. Just last month I got called out on duty to arrest a woman for murder..." Naoto recalls then frowns "I asked her why she did it during interrogation she told me it was because the man raped her"

"Oh" Maya mumbles quietly

"You don't understand how badly I wanted to let her go. Murder is wrong but those cases... In those rare cases, even wrong can be right"

Maya takes in the information. She tries to apply it to her situation, to find just where the director was coming from but she couldn't. Kurokawa Izana didn't deserve that treatment. "But I have to say, Maya, if this is about work our situations are different... In other departments, things can be covered up by saying it was a fraud scam or corruption... In the medical department, however," He lowers his tone to "It's negligence of life... murder"

Maya's heart pounds. He was right. She didn't think of that. "Yeah... you're right" she mumbles

A silence washes over the car for a moment till Naoto speaks up again. "If there is something wrong at work, I can help you out" 

It was a nice offer but what was she supposed to say? Where was she supposed to start? Maya feels stupid because she knows she can just tell Naoto but she can't get herself to. She feels stupid and guilty and the feeling doesn't cease even as Naoto drops her off at her place. Maya's shoulder slouch as she unlocks her door. She hates this so much. A shudder passes through her suddenly at the feeling of being watched. Maya looks around for a moment and sees no one. She shakes her head and brushes it off as stress and goes into her home, locking the door behind her.

From the other side of the street, Kisaki Tetta blows out a cloud of smoke and scoffs.

notes: I do NOT condone any of the acts committed in this fic. Next chapter is gonna be my first time ever writing smut so plz, if it's bad I'm sorry 😭

I would also like to point out that I am a criminology major and don’t know much about the medical field, especially psychiatry. Everything written in this fic is not supposed to be accurate but just for the plot.

This is a double update so next chapter is already up. I have also added chapter summaries to the masterlist so go take a look!

I hope you enjoyed reading so far :)

updates are every monday

taglist: @kokonoiscoconut @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies

[cider-est]

The full lineup is almost done!! (just needs some touch ups and a Chunsik design👍) FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APRECIATED!!

Design process under here (whole lot of yapping)

General thoughts: Ive given them in my previous design sheet (you can find it in my blog)(tldr: designs match characters but still childish, 8-12 years old). Only thing different here, is that these eggs were eggs who I had less of a clear idea of what I wanted to do with them (though I still really liked where I ended up!!)

Empanada: Didnt want to go for the full sweet lolita route, mostly because I thought it'd take away the "little kidness" of it all, but something that still resembles the aesthetic. She's wearing "carneirinhos" (idk the name in english) which is very cute little girl to me, and shes also a demon! Her tail resembles a frying pan!! Though I might change her fringe (it was supposed to be baby hairs but now that I think about it, her type of hair probably wouldnt have them) and put some argyle pattern in her sweater vest. I just forgor💀 to do that...I also wish I had made her shorter, but unfortunetely I drew this before the eggs did the height check (YES ITS BEEN THAT LONG).

Sunny: My beautiful baby girl. She means the world to me. I love this minecraft egg with all my heart. Shes wearing Light up sketchers and some fairy wings like Pomme, and shes actually wearing a swimsuit, she just put a tutu over it. The diamonds they're always holding are rings, they have a "terere" in their hair (idk name in english😭😭) and the beads were inspired by an artist on twt (@\BLUETOMATOSODA). Also if you are wondering why her hair looks like tentacles, its because I had originally made it puffy, but changed my mind after doing the lineart, so i had to get creative with me covering it up. Just pretend she has a fan, shes a star after all!

Pepito: Basically, he is very smoll. Chiquito even. He has strawberry hair and MASSIVE glasses that take up his entire face. Hes wearing a swimsuit aswell (dont ask how it works idk either), and has floaties since he cant swim. Hes got crocs, since flip flops hurt his toes, with a spider man charm on them! Also hes got a sunhat, mostly cause I wanted some other accessorie but didnt want to go with gas mask since it'd kinda kill the whole swimming vibe (since his model is wearing a swimsuit). sorry if its not too accurate to his character. Side note: Him, Em and Sunny all have freckles! Him and Sunny all over their bodies while Em just has on her cheeks.

Leo: Cute sporty vibe, love her shorty spiky hair. Wanted to try to make her face spiky aswell, for the whole shark dad thing. Shes got a necklace with a shark tooth (I guess she got it from Foolish??). He changes tshirts randomly, and opens and closes his attack on titan hoodie depending on the tshirt's expression (basically my version of Leo changing her player heads constantly). His trainers have dragon wings and also: whealies!!

Dapper: Im gonna be honest: did not expect to like his design THIS much. The colouring really elevated, with the long blue hair (the same colour as the ghosties!). Wanted to make them, y'know, dapper, so I had to sacrifice some of the "little kid vibes" unfortunetely, but I think it fits her still. The hat has part of the helmet that they used to wear a lot, demon horn to match Pomme, and a suit that is VERY inspired by Death the Kid from Soul Eater (very fitting for a reaper in training imo). Might be my favourite design!

Ramon: Jesus fuck you'd think designing your fav egg would be easy BUT NO. I struggled long and hard. Again, he doesnt have that much "little kid" vibe whatever man😭😭 Im just happy that I even managed to make SOMETHING. Hes got Create googles, his meathead is a massive hat that completely hides his hair. Very simple, very Ramon, though I will probably end up making a version with an ugly sweater just like he likes instead😔. I still like it but. man...

ANYWAYS IF YOU READ ALL THAT MWAH, YOURE A REAL ONE, THANKS FOR ENTERTAINING MY THOUGHTS🫶🫶🫶

[evalevaeva]

okay um sieun delusions... i heard this is a common experience for students who are class toppers in high school. once they get into an iv league school or a rly fancy high class school they're no longer special and gifted and smart cause EVERYONE is like that

so sieun goes to one of those universities and its his first time being in a school where... ppl are taking it seriously lmaoo. and he starts to notice that there's one student who is always just 1 rank above him. no matter what rank sieun got whether it was 10 or 2 yn is always right above him so he starts to notice her AND BOY GETS A LIL CRUSHY CRUSH HE DOES 😓

literally just make it fluffy or ill kill u

gifted | yeon sieun

- in which yeon sieun gets into seoul national university.

(LETS GOO SOMETHINGTHAT ISNT SOB WORTHY @slytherinshua i did it)

Sieun had done it. He'd gotten past all the bullying and the hardships and decided to throw away his past in Byuksan Middle School and Eunjang High School. He'd gotten into Seoul National University with a special scholarship given to the top 1% of the entire student body, taking the examinations in each region.

Sieun was used to being the only student who focused on his work and got good grades. University came as a shock to him as he stood in front of the noticeboard, the glass the only thing standing between him and the piece of paper. He wasn't first. He wasn't second either. He was in tenth place for the freshmens diagnostics test. Sieun couldn't believe it, as he turned to walk away from the crowd of students trying to find their names on the lower ranks. The Yeon Sieun had gotten tenth place in a test. The last time that happened, it wasn't pleasant. The name above his wasn't an unknown one. He had heard your name back when he was in high school, at cram school. He had never crossed paths with you, so he had never seen the use in interacting with you.

The boy could feel the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The students in Seoul National University were no joke, and it didn't take a genius to realise that. Every student had notebooks, textbooks, and most importantly, coffee. Sieun had never liked coffee, but feeling the lack of sleep every day caused him to become a crippling caffein addict.

No matter what he did, it seemed like one name could not leave his side (on results slip, of course). If Sieun was in nineteenth place，she would be in eighteenth place. If he was third, she was second. If he was sixth, she'd be fifth. It seemed as if they were binded together through the world of academics, and that caught Sieun's attention.

"The concept of biochemistry isn't something hard, everyone. Now, let's go onto sample questions," The professor spoke as the sound of pages flipping echoed throughout the lecture hall. Sieun flipped open his practice book as he read the question, his eyes widening slightly as he read the question. It definitely wasn't something easy.

"Which of the following are included in the types of glycolipids? N-acetylgalactosamine, N-acetylglucosamine, Xylose, or Cerebrosides?" The professor asked as he switched the slideshow to a practice question from the practice book.

The lecture hall was practically silent as students opened their guide books, worried as they realised that their confusion could lead to their downfall in their first year of university.

One hand was raised as Sieun turned to look at the girl who had her hand raised on the other side of the auditorium. She sat up straight as her hand was in the air confidently. She had a small smile on her face as she waited for the professor to call on her.

"Ah, one of our top students! y/n, what do you think the answer is?" The professor called out to the girl as she lowered her hand and spoke.

"Cerebrosides, they are a group of glycosphingolipids, which are the subgroup of glycolipids." The girl answered as the professor clicked on the slideshow to reveal the answer to indeed be Cerebrosides.

Sieun scribbled your name on the top right corner of the page as he rested his cheek on his palm, looking at the writing as he sighed to himself.

That was the first time you caught his eye. It wasn't something he could suppress for long. Sieun caught himself sneaking as many glances at you as he could without getting caught. He'd pretend to cough, just so he could turn in your direction to look at you or take a different route just to see you leaving the hall to the library.

You were always at the library. Similarly to the other students, you would mug till the late hours of the night.

You had your head on the table as you heard a light thud next to you, making you turn to the right to see a cup of coffee on the desk. You sat up straight to see Sieun sitting at the seat next to you, his lips in a thin line but his eyes betrayed him as he watched you, curious to see your reaction.

"Is this... for me?" You asked the doe-eyed boy as he nodded, turning to his books but his attention still on you.

"You seem tired today. You didn't get your usual coffee so I got it for you," Sieun said as you felt a pink hue engulf your cheeks as you looked away from the boy, coughing softly as you whispered with a smile, "Thank you".

That was the first time he felt his heart jump. Screw that, maybe free fall off a cliff? That feeling had him sitting at his desk at home, hand on his chest as he smiled to himself, giggling like a high school lover.

Sieun used every brain cell he had available from that day onwards to have a reason to talk to you. He'd drop his book, and you'd appear from around the corner, crouching down to help him pick it up. He'd buy you coffee every few weeks to the point that it becomes a routine.

"Yeon Sieun, second place." Sieun had grown accustomed to never being in first place. Instead, a smile grew on his face as he saw the name in first place, it was you. Sieun waited under the shade as he saw you and your group of friends at the noticeboard, reading the results as you turned away from the crowd and jumped up and down, excitement emitting from you.

"First! First again! It all paid off! Entering summer break on the best note ever!" You yelled as Sieun felt his cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling at your antics.

"Sieun! Good to see you," you greeted the boy as you pulled out the chair to take a seat next to him in the library. Sieun gave you a small smile as you took out your books, placing them onto the desk as you began mindlessly mugging through the night.

Sieun raised his arms as he stretched, hearing a click from his shoulders as he turned to check on you, seeing your head on the table as you slept.

Sieun packed his stuff as he tapped you on the shoulder, making you jolt awake from your sleep.

"Sieun...?" you mumbled as sieun picked up the books from under your arms，packing them into your bag as he put your bag on his shoulder, surprising you.

"You seem very sleepy, I'll send you home. Don't go home so late next time, and don't stay up too late. You're getting eyebags and...you'll make me worried, " Sieun said as you got up and pushed the chair into the table, following him as you both walked to the bus stop.

There was an awkward silence until you decided to ask him a question, "Sieun, why did you start talking to me? I mean, it's not strange, seeing as we're taking the same course...".

Sieun stopped in his tracks as he calculated in his head the chances of you rejecting him at that moment. 33.3 in a 100.

"It's because I like you." Sieun admitted as if it was a passing comment. You turned to look at him, eyes wide as you tilted your head in confusion.

"You're serious? You actually like me?" You ask him, trying to find a hint of humour in his voice, but his voice was anything but humorous.

"I can't see a day in my life without you from now on. Will you give me the honour of being the one by your side till the end?" Sieun asked as you couldn't help but look into his eyes that seemed to hold every inch of the universe in them.

That was the day that Sieun was no longer alone in his life.

Every day seemed to be filled with you. He'd pick you up from your apartment and cook you breakfast, sit with you in the lecture hall, buy you your coffee, go out for dinner, and finally, send you home safely.

Sieun would help you prepare for practical examinations while you helped him prepare for theoretical examinations, the both of you were the most envied CC.

CC, Campus Couple. Sieun wouldn't have thought he'd have someone to accompany him, but somehow, you were gifted, right to him.

[janinemel]

A Gift

author’s note: hi, sorry for not being active. ive been dealing with life but im in a stable place now. please feel free to send in requests to keep me writing!

Pairings: Egon Spengler x reader

Warning(s): a bit out of character, i haven’t been active much in the fandom.

Not proofread

Every year was the same, you spend Christmas alone and spend New Years alone. You were okay with that, until you met Egon Spengler. A local Ghostbuster, you met him during one of his busts because you had called them for help. Your apartment was being weird and you put up with it but when you began to see floating people standing by the end of your bed? You immediately called them up and asked them to come help you.

After they arrived and dealt with the problem, a certain Ghostbuster recognized your collection of books that were filled with ecosystems. He asked about it and you told him that you had a hobby of reading about ecosystems. Eventually, you both began to talk about it while the rest cleaned up the place and haven’t noticed how much time went by until ‘Peter’ interrupted you two. When you were given a quota of the payment for their services. you were surprised to see that it was cheap and you decided to give the payment up front.

The night ended with Egon dragging Peter away who was protested about the quota you were given and Ray apologizing before shutting the door. After that, you were intrigued with the Ghostbuster named Egon and hoped you would see him again. Christmas was coming up, you didn’t really have friends to spend time with so you just decorated your apartment while watching old Christmas movies. Maybe, because of how alone you’ve spent most of your life, you felt alone for the first time after meeting Egon.

Was it a bad thing? You’d like to think it wasn’t, after all, you didn’t know anything about him except his name and that he collected spores and fungus. It was nice talking to someone, especially about stuff you enjoyed and now, you just yearned for company.

Out of curiosity and desperation, you took out your embroidery supplies and began to embroider a handkerchief. You were thinking about making him a customized handkerchief with his initial and some fungi on it. If he asks why you made him this, you’d tell him that the holidays was coming up and you wanted to give him something in return for giving you a deal on their services.

After a few days, you finally built the courage to go see him and give him the handkerchief. You baked cookies just in case he thought it was weird that you brought him something and not for everyone else. You put effort into your appearance, telling yourself that it wasn’t weird and it was okay. (Was it?). After a nice walk, you found that the Ghostbusters headquarters wasn’t far from your apartment and just a little walk away. Your nerves began to act up, you felt yourself shake a bit and you unknowingly chewed on your bottom lip as you got closer.

Standing outside, you cleared your throat and prepared yourself. Part of you wanted to walk back to your apartment but the other part of you wanted to go in. You didn’t know how this was going to turn out and that scared you. What if Egon thinks this is weird and turns you away? Pushing yourself, you opened the door and peeked inside. It was very large inside, a car, equipment, tables, etc. It looked cool, you’ve never seen anything like this.

“Hello?” You called out, walking inside and looked around.

You noticed a woman sitting at a desk, she was flipping through a magazine and chewed on gum. You studied her for a bit, her hair was red and she wore a comfortable outfit. You liked it, you wanted to ask where she got her cardigan from. “Uh, hello?” You held the container of baked goods a bit too tightly for your liking, you never had an issue with speaking to strangers. The woman looked up and put down her magazine,”I am sorry, I didn’t hear you. How may I help you?” She asked. Her accent was heavy, it was nice to listen to.

“Oh, umh, I’m looking for the Ghostbusters? I would like to speak with them if that’s okay?” You asked. The woman nodded with a little smile,”Of course, just give me a second. Wait here, please.” She stood up and made her way around the desk. She walked upstairs, you heard faints voices and footsteps. You began to feel more nervous, was this weird? Maybe, you should run off and never come back.

Before you had a chance to make a final decision, you heard them coming down the stairs and you felt yourself stiffen. Here’s now or never. You felt your face warm up a bit when you seen Egon, he wore a lab coat and a suit. He looked so handsome in his attire and you felt yourself stare a little too long. “Thank you for waiting, here they are,” The woman says with a gentle smile before returning to her desk.“Oh, it’s Egon’s lover.” Peter teased, earning a little shove from Egon. You chuckled a bit at that, you shook your head and cleared your throat. “My name is [your name], if you had forgotten. Uh, I just wanted to come by and thank you personally for helping me.”

You showed them the container of baked goods, Ray took it and looked inside. He gasped,”Oh, you’re such an angel! They look and smell wonderful!” He complimented, you smiled at him and nodded your head. “Thank you, I am glad to hear that.” You fidgeted with the end of your scarf. Peter looked at you and back at Egon. He rose an eyebrow and nudged Ray’s arm. Ray stopped eating to ask him what, Peter motioned his head to you. After realizing, Ray nodded and closed the lid to the container.

“Thank you once again, Peter and I have something to do! Egon, show our guest to the door!” Ray and Peter rushed upstairs without another word.

Egon gave a weird look up at them as they ran up the stairs and looked at you. The two of you walked towards the door but you stopped and turned to him. You gave him a little nervous smile,”I…Uh, I wanted to give you something, if that’s okay with you?” You asked in such a nervous voice. Egon nodded and walked closer to you. You reached into your pocket and took out a neatly folded handkerchief. You extended your hands to him, Egon gently took it and looked at it.

He examined it and found that his initial and some mushrooms were embroidered on it. He never had anyone make him anything like this and he wasn’t sure how to thank you. You gave him a little smile and Egon felt something. “You told me you have a collection of spores and fungus so…I thought adding that would be nice…Do you like it?” You asked. Egon nodded and folded it up,”Yes, I like it very much. Thank you,” He said, rather too quickly which you noticed.

You felt yourself chuckle at that and fixed your scarf. “Well, I should be going. It..It was nice talking to you again.” You said. Egon tucked the handkerchief into his square pocket of his suit and he nodded, stepping away. You gave him a smile before opening the door to leave until you both heard Peter.

“Just ask each other out already!” He yelled.

You gave Egon an embarrassed look and grabbed the collar of your scarf. Egon straightened his tie a bit and walked closer to you. “Let’s talk outside without being disturbed.” He muttered, opening the door a bit more for the two of you. You two stepped outside and you gave a nervous laugh,”Peter doesn’t have a sense of boundaries, doesn’t he?” You said.

Egon pushed up his glasses,”Unfortunately but that is one of his qualities as he says.” You laughed a bit at that and fixed your jacket as you felt the wind. “He’s right, I’ve been wanting to talk to you again.” He said which made you happy, he was thinking of you? You smiled at him, you really hoped this worked out because you really enjoy his company.

“Assuming, you’d like to. Would you like to go out on a date?” Egon said, quickly and you noticed it again.

You laughed a bit, covering your mouth and he felt a bit embarrassed, was that a no? You nodded your head,”Yes, Egon. I would love to.” You say, reaching over and fixing the handkerchief so that a little mushroom was peeking over his pocket. Egon smiled a bit? He cleared his facial expression before clearing his throat,”I will pick you on tomorrow at 8, if that’s a reasonable time?” He asked. You nodded and began to walk down the steps.

“I look forward to it,” You say, turning to him.

Egon smiled slightly, you smiled because he looked so handsome with a smile and you turned away to walk home. Egon watched you leave, fidgeting with his handkerchief and smiled upon remembering that you made it for him. A gift, from someone he found interesting and hoping would be more than that.

[markberries]

television romance ﹒ km [preview]

synopsis﹕ being a self made singer was not simple, nor was it handed to you on a silver platter. a decision between your management and those at pledis ent. to have you date kim mingyu was not making your life any easier.

genre + ﹕ fluff, angst, idol au, fem reader, bit of wonu x reader in the FUTURE (what do u expect i'm a wonwoorideul.) y/n is a girl boss 🤞🏻

wc ﹕ 691

warnings ﹕ none

note ﹕ a lil something ive been working on! enjoy!

“you have got to be kidding me.”

you look between your personal manager and the ceo of the company you were signed at, dream records. they purse their lips, your manager looking down awkwardly.

“i don’t need to have a fake boyfriend for more traction, my last album did well without it,” you try your best to reason with them.

“yes, that is true, but more sales is always good!” your manager, junho explains with emphasis on the sales aspect.

ever since you were a mere teenager, you craved being onstage. you wanted to sing in front of crowds, change people’s lives, and hopefully make a difference.

you got signed to the dream record label when you were eighteen, fresh out of high school. before that, you were making cover videos on youtube in your tiny bedroom. your record label wasn’t huge, the only reason you joined was to assist one of your friends who was a producer.

you were fairly popular now, mostly in the west when it came to your pop punk sound of music. you worked hard to get where you are, and you thought that it was enough for the company you were under.

“i was doing okay without any pr stunts, i’m sure i’ll be alright without one now,” you huff, sinking into the black leather chair.

“i’ll talk to her,” junho states apologetically to the ceo. he pushes you by your shoulders outside of the office into the brightly lit hallway, and as soon as you’re out of earshot of the ceo, you turn to junho with a glare on your face.

“i don’t want to fake date anyone,” you grumble, placing your hands on your hips, “you’re one of my closest friends but i wouldn’t do this for anybody.”

“y/n, just think about it! yes, you’re doing great, no one is discrediting you for that, but you could always do better,” junho reasons with you. you roll your eyes, walking away but he follows you.

you weren’t a difficult or mean person, but what they were asking of you was just unbelievable. you’ve been working here for years, and you were their main money maker. you’ve given up so much for the sake of this company, and now they were asking you to give up the freedom of choosing your own relationships.

“i’m just frustrated, and the fact that you didn’t consult me before talking to the other party in this business deal irritates me too, this guy could be a complete weirdo!” you exclaim, pacing towards your studio.

“he’s not, i promise, he’s actually quite nice.”

you look at junho with an unimpressed expression, “how do you know that?”

“i.. met him..”

“you’ve even met him before me! junho, you know i trust you with my life. i’d do anything for you but listen to what you’re asking me to do,” you open the black door to your studio, flipping the light switch on your left. you’re greeted by your soft lights and awards sitting on your shelves.

“then trust me when i tell you this is good for you,” junho plops down on your black leather couch, the short man leaning back into the cushions. “his name is mingyu, and when we met he seemed very kind. he already signed the contract.”

your face contorts into a grimace while taking a seat in your comfortable office chair, still not even a bit convinced to go along with this agreement. you aimlessly begin spinning the chair, tapping your fingers against the arm rest.

“would you like to meet him?”

your head snaps towards your manager’s direction, eyes squinting with suspicion.

“why are you asking me this?”

junho shrugs his shoulders, “maybe if you two got along you wouldn’t mind it as much. you’ve probably heard of him anyway, he’s in the kpop industry.”

you weren’t unfamiliar when it came to kpop groups, you had quite a lot of songs in your playlists. you just weren’t an avid fan of it, probably only listening to title tracks and you didn’t know that many groups.

“hm, what group?” you ask out of curiosity.

“seventeen.”

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows and Deception: Parts III & IV

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned) Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions) Word Count: Part III: ~900; Part IV: ~600 : total ~1,500

Summary: So many rumors, so many royal suspects, but where does the truth lie?

Catch up on Parts I and II here

III. From now on, it is our task to suspect each and every one amongst us. (Justice Wargrave)

Disbelief and unease swept through the ballroom as words of foul play circulated. Whispers swirled, sending ripples of suspicion among the guests. Accusatory glances were thrown all around, even toward some of the most prominent and unexpecting of guests.

Trystan Thorne, the once Heir Apparent of Drakovia, found himself caught in the web. 

The sound of his name caught his ear as he listened to a particularly pompous party-goer: "I can't believe they let him in. You've read the stories, I'm sure. How he murdered his fiancée."

"Allegedly," he interrupted, his brow arching as he met the guest's gaze. "I was charged, yes. But as for the truth, that remains to be seen."

"I didn't know," the guest stammered realizing the Prince stood beside them. All color drained from their face. 

"That's the thing, though, isn't it? You don't know. Therefore, I suggest you save your breaths for words you know to be true," Trystan warned. "Being accused of one crime does not give any reason to suspect me of another." He shook his head, walking away. He marveled at the lack of effort that was made before his name was thrown into the pool of suspects. 

Marguerite Thorne, Trystan's half-sister and the youngest Princess of Drakovia (if one considered illegitimate children as such), also faced her own share of rumors.

A group of socialites huddled together, casting not-so-covert glances in her direction, snickering as they went. 

One of them strode up to the Princess, waving her phone in her hand. "Princess Marguerite, any comment to these rumors that you orchestrated the murder of Countess Juliana to frame your brother? Jealous much?" She scoffed, a look of disdain filling her face. “Hoping to find yourself some new attention here?”

Marguerite's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disbelief. "How absurd! To even indulge your delusions for the sake of my amusement would be an insult to my integrity." She chuckled as she sauntered away, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She refused to give them the satisfaction of turning back. 

Queen Amalas became the subject of whispered suspicions. Some guests cast accusatory glances her way, questioning the depths to which she would go for knowledge and secrets, and what actions she might take to protect them. Her composed demeanor remained unwavering. 

Amalas brushed up against the Duchess, her words a whisper in her ear. "Have you made any progress?" 

"There are still many questions to be asked," Olivia replied, her fingers brushing against her Queen's. "Have you turned up anything of worth?"

Her brow rose briefly, a secret smile playing on her lips, "All in good time." Amalas pulled away, tucking her clutch safely under her arm. 

"Maybe I should search you," Olivia teased, pulling her back. "I could certainly make it enjoyable... for the both of us." 

"I trust you could. Another time, my love." 

Olivia glided through the halls, continuing to conduct her investigation until a particularly ridiculous display caught her attention. ‘Who could dance at a time like this?’ She marched forward, ready to put an end to it when a whisper floating through the ballroom hooked her attention. She paused, listening to the murmured words. 

Apparently, the Ottoman Prince was conducting an investigation himself. She listened as a guest confided that she had overheard an intense exchange between Lord Beaumont and the waiter earlier in the evening. She wasn't clear on the exact details, but what was clear was the tension between them. Between this and his odd behavior early, Olivia had a new suspect to question. ‘What had he gotten himself into now?'

Maxwell Beaumont, emboldened by his carefree attitude, danced to his own music, refusing to let the party become a lifeless bore. After all, someone had to keep the guests' spirits up.  

Olivia approached him, her gaze sharp and penetrating. "Maxwell, do you care to explain yourself?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." He offered her little attention. His body moved in rhythm as he attempted to beatbox his favorite dance beats. 

Olivia grumbled, "If you could contain yourself for even five minutes." 

"I could, but then, who would carry this party on their shoulders!?" Maxwell winked and jumped atop the closest table. "Breakdance battle—15 minutes. You'll know where."

"You can't do that!" Olivia's words were lost as he dashed off into the crowd before she could ask about the rumors she had just overheard about him and Daniel's argument before the party. There was definitely something going on with him. 

Nia Ellarious, the priestess of light who had once been possessed by the evil entity, the Dreadlord, faced her own share of suspicion. Tyril Starfury approached her gently, offering reassurance. "I understand your concerns, but it's customary for the person who discovers the body to be considered a probable suspect. We must remain vigilant and trust that the truth will prevail."

"What if there's more to it?" Nia worried. She had escaped the darkness that had taken over her, but the nightmares of its presence remained. "It can't happen again."

His grasp on his blade tightened as he scanned the crowd. "It won't. Tonight's events are entirely human-created."

Still, others whispered the name of another. 

With her known predilection for daggers and her often cold and calculating demeanor, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis's name caught on the lips of some who dared cast a shadow toward her.

IV. Truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. (C. Auguste Dupin)

Whispers slithered through the air, their words laden with suspicion and hidden agendas. As tension thickened like a dense fog looming over the proceedings, some of the distinguished guests took it upon themselves to investigate the crime, each motivated by their own agenda. The ballroom became a web of whispered conversations, covert glances, and hidden alliances.

Trystan's pulse thrummed with curiosity, the exhilaration of the mystery running high. He was determined to unravel this crime as he had others in New York. Memories of his own false accusation lingered, igniting a fire within him to clear his name. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm against his chin, his mind racing with thoughts of the mysterious silver key. Could it be the key to the truth, or was it merely a red herring calling him astray?

Olivia, fueled by an unwavering determination to shield her chosen family and to exact justice, wove through the crowd. Her sharp mind looked for connections between hushed conversations, hidden agendas, and the untimely death. The corner of her lips pulled up faintly at the promise of more to come. 

Now if only she could find Maxwell... Pinning him down should have been the least of her problems; after all, it was Beaumont. He was the least stealthy person she knew. However, he seemed to have made it a game to elude her at every turn, a dangerous dance of cat and mouse developing. Olivia's frustration grew with each attempt to corner him. Foreshadowing a perilous end for the little mouse, or squid as it were, this shark was determined to catch him one way or another. Yet, as she pursued answers to her questions, she couldn't help but wonder if his unusual behavior was denial as he processed his grief.

Balancing duty and his loyalty to Nia, Tyril trod with caution. After Aerin Valleros, he wasn't about to trust another royal. The remnants of the Dreadlord's grip lingered in his memory, fueling his determination to protect Nia from any lurking shadows. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He would be ready this time. 

Amalas employed her cunning and manipulation to take advantage of the situation, using it to extract every fragment of information she could, regardless of its relation to the events of the evening. All knowledge was power. She maneuvered through the labyrinth of people as silent as a shadow, her movements graceful and elusive. She made her way to a small balcony above. Her perceptive gaze scanned the room, watching and waiting. Her pulse quickened, but she quickly regained her composure. Her focus took a moment longer as her gaze followed the alluring movements of her scarlet-haired Duchess.

Prince Hamid, torn between his formal obligations and his innate desire for justice, skillfully navigated the crowd. He listened to stories and deciphered what information he could learn. His charisma and charm proved invaluable in gaining the trust of potential witnesses. His calm persona reassured guests into fully opening up to him with any facts or theories they may have.

The King's Guard moved throughout the proceedings, questioning everyone who may have heard or seen something. They took particular interest in those who moved about in the shadows, investigating on their own, for perhaps one of them was sticking too close in order to cover his/her own tracks.

Regardless of the underlying reason for their inquiries, there was a puzzle to be solved, and no one was going to let the blame fall on them, especially the exiled Prince of Drakovia.

[Continue...]

Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying they mystery. There are definitely a lot of rumors and suspicious behaviors, but what do any of them mean?

Tomorrow, an unlikely(?) suspect emerges as the murder weapon is found! The conclusion will be posted Monday! Happy sleuthing!

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

[darsynia]

Modern Mythology | Ch1

(Tony Stark/OC; soulmate AU pre-Ultron, in 3 parts)

image from peakpx.com | gif from @anthonyed

Summary: Abigail Carson takes a chance on a second job as a courier in the hopes that it'll help her find her soulmate, whose words on her skin imply that he's signing for a package she delivers. When she hears the words spoken by Tony Stark, though, Abbi has second thoughts. She's practically a nobody!

Length: 3,974

MY MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf

Excerpt:

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

‘I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!’

She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.

Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Chapter One: Goddess Observed

When Abigail’s mother pressed her to find her soulmate, Abbi had no idea that she’d learn that there was an underground courier culture in New York City. Her job at Vail & Nysa was great, even though she’d always wanted to finish her law degree, but there would be time for that someday. For now, being a paralegal was close enough, and it had unexpectedly opened up a secondary opportunity.

Apparently, there were levels of being a courier. Abbi had thought that she’d end up picking up and dropping off things in lobbies here and there on her way to work and on her lunch break. But as soon as she walked into the downtown office of You Send Me, the receptionist took one look at her professional clothing and sent her upstairs. There wasn’t a receptionist there, just a clipboard with names that had been blacked out as they were seen, it looked like. Hoping this wasn’t a secret first step to a fifty-step process of earning a job at Google she didn’t intend on taking, Abbi wrote down Abigail Carson and sat down to wait with her hands in her lap. Work had been a half day anyway, so she had the time to find out what kind of mysterious chance she might be given. 

It took almost a half hour. She (of course) didn’t check her watch, certain that that would be noticed. The longer she sat, the more Abbi was consumed with curiosity. As much as she could, though, she kept her green eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of her, and tried not to touch the chignon her shoulder-length brown hair was styled into. Inside, her mind swirled with possibilities. Outside, she was the picture of a calm, collected young woman.

“Ms. Carson?” The speaker was an older woman garbed in rich purple and covered with jewelry. Sometimes Abbi really loved when New York City lived up to its mythos.

As it turned out, You Send Me had a higher-end courier business whose employees were hand-picked and mostly consisted of young women dressed as if for the boardroom or court. At its heart, Courier and Ives was, Mrs. Violet Walsingham told Abbi, a business trying to cater to companies who didn’t want a disruptive, enthusiastic young delivery person in street clothes bopping in to deliver something sensitive or vital in nature.

That was when Abbi asked point-blank if it was a disguised escort service. Mrs. Walsingham cackled and begged her to sign up, even if she only delivered packages once a week. She told Abbi that while yes, professional young women rarely had the chance to meet men outside their own office during work hours, and Courier and Ives did end up facilitating that sometimes, their reputation as a courier service was impeccable. 

Abbi showed the woman her soulmark, confessed her reasons for applying, and was told she was exactly the kind of young woman they were looking for.

Her mother was full of delight when Abbi told her about what happened. Demi Carson had lived an adventurous life, and she was always encouraging Abbi to live hers to the fullest as much as possible. Their family vacations were always to as exotic a location as they could afford, the schedule packed with anything that looked unique and challenging. They hadn’t always felt safe but they’d always had a good story to tell later.

Secretly, Abbi had always wondered if her mom had married Atticus Carson because his name was unique. Her father had been dour but loving, and any fights she’d ever observed had stemmed from a conflict of personalities. That conflict was embodied in Abbi herself in many ways-- she was adventurous but economical, free-spirited as much as possible while still grounded in the here and now. If it was within her budget and didn’t risk her future, Abigail Carson liked taking a chance on something exciting. 

Courier and Ives was right up her alley. She couldn’t wait to start.

Her biggest hope was that she’d run into her soulmate, who would be an up-and-coming executive type with a head for business and a heart for taking a few measured chances. Her biggest fear was that her soulmate would actually turn out to be a big-spender, big-risk type of guy whose lifestyle would fill her with the kind of dread she watched her father deal with when her mother was in one of her moods. Before they’d lost him to a heart attack, her father had told her he’d loved his life, and the only thing he would have changed was perhaps trying to temper his wife’s most grandiose tendencies. Abbi’s soulmark did imply that the speaker would be someone who wouldn’t ordinarily take deliveries, but she didn’t worry about that too much. If he was her soulmate, they were made for each other, and it would be worth it, just like her parents’ marriage was. They’d been soulmates too.

By a month into the job, Abbi was starting to enjoy the excited rush she felt every time she walked up to a man to hand over a discreet package. Her soulmate words had turned a job that already let her observe various exclusive offices and meetings into an exciting chance at a new life! She got a message every few days, though today had been day four since her last one. When she stopped by on her lunch hour to pick it up, she was surprised to see that it was to Avengers Tower. 

The re-named Stark Tower was a different kind of ‘exclusive’ than the expensive, chic office spaces that Courier and Ives women were often sent to. There wasn’t just a chance at running into a wealthy executive there, but also bona-fide superheroes. It was a plum job, and Abbi was the newest employee. She asked Mrs. Walsingham if there had been a mistake.

“No mistake, sweetheart! We accepted delivery of this item from a confidential source and it needs to be run over to the tower. You’re the only one with availability in the next hour. If Minthe Lawson gives you grief about it, you come to me, got it?” The kindly old lady gave Abbi a once-over. “That gold-colored suit is absolutely stunning. One of Stark’s favorite colors, I hear!”

Inwardly, Abbi winced. Anthony Stark was one person she would be happy to miss seeing-- as handsome as he was, the man was a walking PR disaster. Reportedly, he’d been building some kind of robot army after his girlfriend and CEO of his company had left him a few months ago. Just being an unfamiliar young woman in his general proximity would probably be enough to get his attention nowadays, or so the tabloids said, much less wearing his favorite color. Her mother had bought her the suit jacket and miniskirt set, and always loved seeing her wearing it for work. There were few opportunities where she could wear it, because paralegals were to be seen and not heard, at her firm (and she preferred it that way), but today was a celebration for a successful win of the case she’d been working on, and Abbi had made an exception. The skirt was shorter than she was used to, too. 

Gritting her teeth, she left, hoping she’d get through Avengers Tower without running across its most famous resident. The object looked like a suitcase, but after the incident at Monaco Abbi knew that an object going to Stark Industries could be anything disguised as anything. Her credentials got her through the door just fine, and she was sent up to the 72nd floor to a conference room.

She tapped lightly on the door and it opened inward. Slowly, Abbi walked into the doorway, where she was faced with all of the Avengers, at least the ones she could recognize.

“Tony, a scared-looking delivery girl is here with the suitcase you had made for the scepter,” a man dressed all in black said. He smiled at her in a kindly sort of way, turning around to call for Stark again. On his back was an actual quiver full of arrows.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, I could probably give this to any one of you?” Abbi said desperately. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the card with the instructions. “Yes. Avengers or associated staff. I’ll just--” she turned to look for someone much more junior and less busy to hand the object off to.

“Found him,” the archer sing-songed.

Abbi stopped short. With a pasted-on smile, she turned around and was faced with Tony Stark. He was dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans, and he must have been laughing with one of the other people in the room before being called over, because his smile was bright, genuine, and devastating. Abbi had always thought he was handsome in magazine pictures, read articles that called him charismatic, but she’d never seen such clear evidence of the difference between a picture and a person before.

Tony Stark was magnetizing, and she’d only been around him for three seconds so far.

For his part, Stark seemed to find her interesting as well, which was disconcerting for Abbi. He leaned his head back and regarded her, the initial brilliant smile on his face morphing into an impressed, pleased look.

“I wonder where Violet keeps finding so many respectable young women,” he said under his breath. Then, over his shoulder to another man, he added, “You’d think she would run out, after a while.”

Abbi had been trained to be polite, gracious, even accommodating, but she felt objectified, and it made her actions a bit stiff. She held out the suitcase with a strained, silent smile. He gestured to the table beside him for her to set it down, his eyes narrowing just a touch in recognition of her attitude. Stark was a tech genius, yes, but he bucked their trend of being awkward and unskilled with women. He could tell she disapproved of him. Abbi felt her face flush at the subtle rebuke, and pulled out a small clipboard for his signature. Apologizing would just make things worse.

“You didn’t expect me to be the one to sign for this, did you?” he asked as he bent over the flat surface to scribble his signature.

Abbi’s grip on the clipboard failed on hearing her soulmark words. Her heart started pounding and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. It was as if his words had loosened the cork that had been holding back all possible reactions to hearing her soulmate’s first words, and in a fluke of fate, she was feeling all of them at once. Horror, excitement, attraction, repulsion.

Stark reached out quickly to steady the clipboard with his other hand as he finished signing, looking up at her quizzically. 

If fate had decreed her soulmate was Tony Stark and she apologized for letting go, those would be the words written on his body somewhere. But what if it was a coincidence? Surely that phrase had been spoken before and would be again? Abbi dipped her head in a silent goodbye, pressed her lips together in case she accidentally said something, and turned to go, moving quickly to escape the situation.

“Hey, Cleopatra in the gold suit! Gonna need this.”

She stopped a foot from the elevator button, and Stark walked over to hand her the clipboard, looking a bit regretful to give it back, for some reason. Abbi took it, pulling out the side of her jacket to tuck it into the inside pocket. She felt dizzy, almost like she was observing herself from the outside, and some of that must have shown on her face.

“You all right? Here,” he said, reaching out to tap the button for the elevator. “Look at me,” Stark commanded, and she let out a quick breath to steady herself before lifting her eyes to his. “Green!” he said with a slow, pleased smile. Abbi had to fight back a feeling of pride, as if it should matter whether this man liked the color of her eyes. “Well, Emerald Eyes, you seem to be experiencing Superhero Swoon, which is understandable after being confronted with a room full of them. I’m happy to offer a manful shoulder should you so require?”

Abbi shook her head right as the elevator doors opened, offering an apologetic smile as she scurried inside.

“No name, not even for the review?”

She shook her head again.

“Silent rabbit mode it is, then. I’ll just have to have something else delivered. Until next time!” Stark said with an impish grin just as the doors closed.

“Oh my God, that did not just happen. Please tell me that did not just happen!” Abbi said out loud to the empty elevator, groaning. “It was a fluke. That’s what it was. It only counts if I say his words back, and I am not going to, because there’s no way in hell that Tony Stark is my soulmate. Nope!” A voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother’s pointed out that he was wealthy, handsome, and a certified genius, but most importantly, not in any way boring! Abbi had quite a lot of experience ignoring her mother’s voice in her head, however. Where most women heard their mother’s voice criticizing them, hers was like the impulsive devil on her shoulder.

It was practically inconceivable that someone of Stark’s stature would be unbonded at his age anyway. And he’d just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. The man had clearly not been concerned with finding his soulmate and hadn’t been for years. As far as Abbi was concerned, if she was his soulmate, he never had to find out. She left the elevator, nodded to the front desk person, and walked outside. Her plan was to call a taxi and never set foot in the tower again.

She raised a hand for a taxi and saw one that had been idling at the corner a block away put on its turn signal. The driver waved at her, and Abbi waved back.

Suddenly, Iron Man came flying down from the top of the tower, landing on one knee in front of her before straightening up. The faceplate flipped up to show Tony Stark.

“So, funny thing about the elevators in my tower. They’re run by my AI, JARVIS, who likes to pass on any pertinent information spoken in his presence.” Stark’s brown eyes were bright, hopeful, and fixed on her. His demeanor was placating, holding out one hand as if begging her to stay put.

Abbi almost told him she was sorry but there was probably a mistake. Then she realized that if there wasn’t a mistake, those would be the words written on his body. He deserved better than that. He deserved a fancy celebrity soulmate, not a young woman looking at turning thirty with half of the goals she’d made at twenty still unfulfilled! So she shook her head at him and pointed at the taxi that pulled up right then.

To her immense frustration, Stark leaned over, mimed rolling down a window, and told the taxi driver that he and his soulmate were having a one-sided conversation, and to move on.

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!

She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.

Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Something inside her twisted up to hear the vulnerability in his tone. She ruthlessly suppressed them. This man wasn’t for her. It just wasn’t possible. Abbi tried to flip to a new page, but the one she’d just written on came loose. He stopped the small, square note card from flying away by stepping on it, then Stark leaned over and picked it up.

“Would you believe this thing doesn’t have pockets? Back to the drawing board,” he joked. It was impossible not to laugh. “Got you,” he said softly. Even as she was writing another message for him, Stark reached out and rested his gauntleted hand on the clipboard, then took it from her entirely. He glanced at what she’d started writing (‘I need to get back to work and you just took my ride!’) and nodded. “I called one of my guys, he’ll drive you wherever you want, and I made him promise not to tell me where, even.”

Abbi looked up at him in surprise. The vulnerability and defensiveness were still there, but there was stubborn amusement in his expression now, as well.

“You still need to be convinced,” he said. Abbi shook her head and looked at her watch. The office party would start in twenty minutes, and Stark looked like he had twenty minutes’ worth of arguing in him. “Listen,” he said, stepping even closer.

She crossed her arms to put a little distance between them, but the action emphasized the small bit of cleavage her blouse showed, and she saw him notice that. There was definitely a heat between them, but she was willing to ignore it. The man probably had heat with everyone, honestly.

Stark pointed between the two of them as he started speaking again. “You doubt this soulmate thing is real, but that doubt is a point in your favor. Do you know how many women would fake my words if they knew what they were? And here you are, you could say anything, and that’s what they’d be. Embrace the power, Iris.” He paused, clearly saw her brows furrowed in confusion, and added, “I don’t know if soulmate words change, but please don’t turn mine into a question about Greek mythology. Iris, female messenger to the Gods.” He grinned. “Feel free to say, ‘Does that mean you think you are a god?’ because that would be badass. I’d be happy to give up my current soulmark if that’s what the new one was.”

Abbi shook her head. She felt lightheaded again, but instead of dizziness, it was a kind of excited anticipation. He obviously was convinced they were soulmates, and despite herself, she was influenced by that a little bit. Her practicality won out, though. She was going to be late for work, and he was a billionaire. The sun was not destined to fall in love with a fluorescent lightbulb! Abbi stepped back from Stark, sighed, and walked over to the car.

He opened the door and ushered her in. “This is Happy Hogan, he’ll take you to work. Happy, we agreed you wouldn’t tell me anything she said, right?”

“Right,” the round-faced man in the front seat said.

“His AI monitors the car, doesn’t it?” Abbi asked Hogan.

“It sure does,” Hogan said, grinning at Stark.

“Traitor,” Stark said. He shifted his gaze to Abbi, and she could see admiration in it. “I like smart women. Even ones smart enough to want to stay far away from me.”

Before she could react to that, he stepped back, shut the door, and activated his suit, flying straight up and out of her line of sight.

“I wish I could re-do this entire day,” Abbi sighed, throwing her head back in the seat and closing her eyes tightly.

“I get that a lot,” Hogan said sympathetically. “Where can I drive you?”

“My mother used to always answer, ‘Crazy,’ but I think that’s the location I am currently leaving at the moment. How about the Solow Building?”

True to his word, Hogan delivered her to her workplace and didn’t even ask her name. His only concession to the strangeness of the situation was when he pulled up to the building and then turned to speak to her.

“I know you’ve got to make up your own mind, here, but I would be eternally grateful if you would just do one thing for me.”

Abbi eyed him warily. “What?”

“I’ve heard of soulmate words changing in very rare situations. I’ve seen his, so I know what you’re supposed to say, but if you could change them to, I don’t know, ‘Happy says you’re a good guy, so I guess we’re doing this’ or something like that--”

“Unlock the door?”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of Abbi’s day passed so normally that she managed to pretend that nothing had happened, right up until she walked in the door and saw her mom. She looked like she was having a good, calm day. Not the kind of day where she needed to stress out about something that momentous and world-changing. Abbi did her best to deflect questions, made them leftovers from the day before, and checked to be sure that her mom had taken all the pills she needed to before heading to her room to study up on the next case she’d be working on.

“Something happened today, didn’t it?”

Abbi looked up to see her mom in her doorway. “What makes you say that?” she asked, putting a bookmark in the tome she’d been reading.

“You usually relax when you come home. You take off the masks you had to wear to get through the day. Today, you’re still wearing them.”

“Something so bizarre happened today that I’m still processing it. I’ll tell you when I figure it out, okay?” Abbi confessed.

“Well, don’t wait too long. Clock’s ticking!” Demi Carson said, laying a dramatic wrist on her own forehead.

“You know, some mothers take a diagnosis like yours seriously, just saying,” Abbi laughed. Her mother had never taken anything seriously in her life, not if she could help it. That didn’t mean she was being irresponsible about it, just irreverent. It was equal parts frustrating and uplifting, depending on the day. The jury was out for how today was going to feel. They had a few weeks before the scan to see if her current treatment was effective. Even if it was, Abbi was grateful she’d moved back in to care for her, despite the rather dramatic role-reversals that happened between them sometimes.

“Some mothers never took their children out of the country. Some mothers haven’t even tried marijuana. Some mothers have the decency to move to the suburbs when they get old. I’m not some mothers.”

“You are not old, go to bed.”

“Yes, dear.”

Next chapter, Tony wages an all-out war to persuade Abbi that she should accept him as her soulmate.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Don't Blame Me 2.0 | Sneak Peak

So here's just a little sneak peak of my re write of Don't Blame Me. I've been wanting to revisit this for a while. I will post the rest of it in one go probably on Ao3 for ease but here's just a little peak of some of the extended stuff I'm doing. This is probably chapter 1 or 2. I haven't decided the order yet. It is 100% new material and I hope it gives a good example of what the rest of the re write is gonna be. Hope you enjoy 💕

Word Count: 2k

Nina stared up at the ceiling. It was ugly. Grayish plaster smeared across to form a minuscule mountain range. She was angry at them with their manmade topography. She wanted to climb up and scrape them smooth. She wanted to destroy something without consequence. 

The bed in the safe house was too hard and the covers were too thin. Made it impossible to sleep and yet she’d spent the past three days laying in it. She missed the warm comfort of her old bed, layers of wool blankets and a fluffy down mattress. She missed the feathers that poked her in the middle of the night. 

Kyle, sat guard by the door - rifle in hand. The curtains always drawn close. She’d long lost track of time, only gauging when offered food. Shopping bags laid scattered across the floor. Price had bought clothes, guessing her size and getting it wrong most of the time. She’d finally asked for something warm and big. 

He’d come back with a large navy sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. They were nice and soft and the sweatshirt was large enough she could tuck her knees inside of it and pull her hands into the sleeves. A small comfort. 

She didn’t like it here but she wasn’t given a choice. Hunted like an animal across countries and continents. All because of her father. Some people may be attached together with red string but he was the rope around her neck. 

The house somehow felt more sterile than the hospital they had her at initially. She didn’t like it there either with doctors and nurses constantly prodding her. Taking blood for various tests, physical exams where she was expected to strip for strangers. Their hands were always cold. 

A week ago she hadn’t even seen another person in years and now she didn’t think any part of her had gone untouched. She’d fought and screamed every time they pulled another needle out. They’d had to sedate her after she kicked a nurse in the shoulder and almost knocked her over. Price stepped in at that point and refused to let them do any more tests or exams until she’d relaxed. She never got the chance.

She woke up to a man forcing his way into the room. Kyle dragged her out of bed and into a corner, ripping an IV out of her arm. Price had met the man at the threshold. The intruder got one good hit in before Price slammed his head into the door. 

Her stomach flipped, hearing his skull crack. Death wasn’t an unfamiliar face but she ached having seen him so often recently. How many just in the past week? She’d lost count. Blood dripped down the door, like a bug that got squished. 

Kyle was holding her arm, bandaging where the IV got ripped out.

“We’re moving her.” Price said. “Now!”

Kyle scooped her up easily, carrying her bridal style, down the halls and stairs of the hospital. 

“Kate, I need a safe house.” Price barked into a radio. Nina clung to Kyle, letting herself get carried away once again. It had been futile to fight previously so she allowed it now. She also didn’t want to complain about not walking across the parking deck barefoot. 

Price drove while Kyle sat in the back, having her lay down on the seats next to him. She stayed quiet, she was good at that. Quiet and surviving. They drove what felt like hours around London in order to lose any possible tails. Eventually Price pulled into an underground parking deck and they switched cars. 

The Russian was driving this time, she believed his name was Nik. A large white utility van. She sat with her back against the side. Her feet were cold. Kyle and Price flanked her. She felt like she should be wearing a black bag over her head. 

It was dark when they got to the safe house. A coat was thrown over her head and she was kept bent over as they led her inside. Lights off until the blinds could be pulled shut. 

“You should be safe here. Kyle will keep watch over ya,” Price assured, holding her shoulders. She was older than he was when they last saw each other. A stranger but the only person on Earth who seemed to remember her name.  A friend of her father’s, his sergeant. He’d stop by their on base house often enough to be a familiar face. He got her a birthday gift once or twice. He’d had dinner with her family. She felt ashamed to say she hadn’t thought about him in years yet there he was at the edge of the world to hold her on the helicopter ride home. “How are you feeling Nina?”

“I’m okay.” What else was there to say? It felt like the ground was constantly collapsing under her and she was treading ice water. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s get the bedroom set up for you.” He rubbed her back as he led her upstairs. She waited in the hall as he checked over the room and pulled the blinds shut. She was glad they left her alone to sleep, even if one of them was always outside the cracked open door. She’d barely left the bed since. Kyle had moved a chair in at one point.

“Just keeping you company.” He smiled. She imagined the true reason was so he could stop her if she tried to kill herself. There was a reason she had to ask for any pain medication, there were no knives in the kitchen and the sweatpants came without strings. Truthfully she didn’t have the motivation for all that. 

She thought about taking another shower or maybe a bath. Hot water on demand was another comfort. Something she’d missed. 

She got up wordlessly and walked into the ensuite bathroom. Bottles, jars and tubes also scattered across the counter. Kyle had explained what it all did. Moisturiser, cleanser, masks and other words she didn’t remember. She slathered it all on anyway. It did make her skin feel less tight. If it made a physical difference, she wouldn’t know. The mirror was gone. 

Kyle had taken it off the wall the day before. She’d needed his help turning on the water. Her reflection frightened her. She knew she was older, a woman of twenty five. She still expected to see a little girl staring back at her. In a way there was, how small she looked. How starved she looked. She didn’t like her skin or hair or her face at all really. Price had remarked how much she looked like her mother. She couldn’t even hold her face in her mind. She knew that she never looked sick like this. As tattered and forgotten. 

She’d hung a towel over the edges of the mirror. Kyle took it down and she put it back up. He seemed to understand and it was laid in the hallway facing the wall the next morning. 

She filled the tub with steaming water and squirted some soap into it. She wasn’t allowed to lock the door so she left it cracked to let the steam out. She sunk down till her nose barely scraped the water’s edge. She soaked until the bubbles all popped and disappeared and her skin was pruned. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“The captain is going to be back soon with food,” Kyle broke the hours-long silence. He was extraordinarily kind to her despite having not said more than a couple words to him over the past days. “He asked if there’s anything else you want or need.”

“I’m okay,” she said. She didn’t know what she needed or wanted. Everything seemed like a distant dream, half real. She thought about the things she ate as a child and wondered what was real and what was some elaborate coping daydream. It all just seemed out of her grasp. 

“…Nina?” He asked. It still felt weird to hear people say her name aloud. It was something she had kept like a secret for so long. “Do you like cake?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. She didn’t remember the last time she had cake. Her 11th birthday maybe. 

“I can have Price pick some up for you. I’d say you deserve it.”

“I’d like that…thank you, Kyle.”

“I’ll text him.”

Price arrived a little less than an hour later. She was back in bed, wearing the same sweatshirt and pants. Kyle had shown her how to work the telly. There was nothing familiar on. 

Price had given up on getting her to eat anywhere but her bed, bringing up the food with a tray. 

“Thank you,” She said as he laid a plate of lamb, rice and veggies in front of her. The three of them ate in silence as she periodically flipped through the channels on the telly. 

“What day is it?” she asked as another holiday ad came on. 

“December sixteenth,” Kyle answered around a bite of lamb. 

She didn’t realise Christmas was so close. She changed the channel again, wanting to avoid any possibility of raising hope. 

“Gaz, take the dishes downstairs. I need to talk to Nina.” Price said as they finished eating. She thanked Kyle as he took her plate and pulled her knees to her chest. 

Price had a serious look on his face, more serious than usual. 

“We have to move you again.” He said. She nodded, chewing on the idea of having to leave again.

“Why?”

“My contact in M16 believes there’s a leak and you’re at risk again. They shouldn’t have known what hospital you were in.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “These men are dangerous, Nina. They believe you know where your father is.”

“I don’t.”

“I know you don’t, love. We’re working on tracking them down but until we do you need to be kept safe. You’re going to the United States tomorrow afternoon.”

“The United States? Why all the way there?”

“It’ll be easier to hide you. You’ll be under cover, new name, travelling with one of my mine.”

“Kyle?”

“No, unfortunately I need him here.”

“Then who?” She wasn’t sure if she trusted anyone else. She wasn’t even sure if she could trust Price. 

“His name is John.”

“Your name is John.”

“Different John.” He chuckled. “MacTavish. A scot. He’ll look after you.” He patted her shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Price?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will I ever be safe?”

He laid his hands on her shoulders and got eye level with her. 

“I will make you safe.” He said firmly, like he believed it to be true. “Try to get some sleep. Lots to brief on tomorrow.”

The idea of having to move again twisted her stomach. More helicopters? More high speed chases down mountain roads? More bullets whizzing by? Her hands were shaking already. She pulled her arms into her sweatshirt and scratched at them. Every red line was a release of tension in her body. Another strange man who’s side she would be tucked into. She knew Price wouldn’t put her with someone who would hurt her, at least not knowingly. 

There was a knock on the door.

“Nina? Can I come in?” Kyle asked. 

“Uh…yeah…you can.” She pushed her arms back through her sleeves. He was smiling as he came in. A pastry box and fork in hand. 

“Price says you need protein but cake has eggs so I think it counts.” He handed her the box. She laid it in her lap and opened it. It was a small chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and cadbury flakes on top. Her mouth watered. She wanted to feel the sugar grit against her teeth. 

“Thank you, Kyle.” She said, holding the box close. There was a time when she was younger and she used to close her eyes and imagine a great big party with cake and balloons and streamers and friends and her family. She held onto that fantasy for a long time. She hoped the cake tasted as good as it did in her head. 

“Eat it all if you want but don’t get sick, yeah?” He handed her the fork before going to leave. “Soap’s a decent bloke. He’ll take care of you.”

What a stupid nickname, she thought as she stabbed her fork into the centre of the cake and dug out a chunk. 

It was better than she imagined. 

I would also like to shout out some of the people who've supported this story over the past year. There are more than I could ever list (I'm adding as I remember usernames) but thank you all so much

@macravishedbymactavish @queen-ilmaree @argella1300 @purplemarmar @devcica @avidreadee123 @water-bearz @glitterypirateduck @murdersheghostwrote @sea--biscuit @coolmaybelateruniverse @pssytrux @mykneeshurt @yearningforsappho @celestiialspheres @fleetwoodmoth

I appreciate more than y'all could ever know 💕

[merchantarthurn]

all i have to say about the miraculous special aside from incoherent happy noises is that it's exactly like every fanfic i hold dear in that it felt so self-indulgent when it came to fun "what-if" scenarios and also really hit on like. actual fun character beats (okay turns out i have things to say, so here's a spoilery read more)

starting immediately with the alt theme song with gabriel was so inspired i had to immediately pause and lose my mind.

gabriel as a significantly better dude who is just failing to connect with his son during their very different grieving periods is legit so much more interesting than i expected from a "character morality flip" moment

alya and nino being still on the resistance team fills me with a lot of delight for so many reasons - character related, but also for the alt-universe actually not being a 'everyone is a different alignment' universe. the overall universe and characters perceptions of themselves or how they dealt with their grief is clearly completely altered for the ones we see changed. like... gabriel seems to have started off in a similar spot but the specifics of the universe meant he changed teams for the better. emilie seemingly dying much more suddenly and the general turmoil of the universe (and presumably not going to school with the other kids?) leading adrien to not process his grief in the same way. marinette never meeting alya and not finding the courage to stand up for herself without threats and power. damn...

betterfly is a stupid name and i love that. just remember that his name is just "butterfly" and not "hawkmoth" in french okay.

shadybug is also very silly but it's a pretty perfect alternative for 'toxinelle' and also so funny

the only knock i will give the episode is she changed her hairstyle at the end. shadybug's whole look was 10/10, she could have just shifted the colour scheme for the friendly vibe. i also think chat should have kept the green hair and maybe just gone with green eyes.

on cool outfits: the butterfly + ladybug combo looked gorgeous imo i will not argue on this

i was not expecting the episode to make me feel things but it was genuinely very sweet how both AU-duos got a mutual pep-talk. like this was a perfect time in s5 for it to be set - marinette's still struggling to find belief in herself and adrien is freaked out about what his power could do to someone, and his own self-control about that. and their chats with their alternate selves help them settle something (at least for now) in addition to helping the other!! their AU selves definitely have more to deal with given.. everything, but that's for another time im sure >:) i really do like that despite their Attitude they are just treated like kids with problems y'know? honestly i wish adrien had longer to talk about his grief cos i think that's a really valuable bit of telly for young'uns who've lost a parent y'know?

there's some #Logic you could do about identity reveals but honestly i do not care, because an actual fanfic where they're like "hey butterfly man if you told us who you were we could stop monarch way faster" and that resulting in some good!gabriel and chat/adrien chatting with him knowing who hawkmoth is like... ARGH. imagine. i feel like there's so many reasons he wouldn't want to expose his identity even to allies and we didn't need a scene where that was explained and i'll fight anyone who insists it's a ~cinema sins plothole ding~ that it didn't happen. if it's not in the show you get to fanfic it in many flavours. this is a WIN actually.

generally ive been so happy with season 5 and this just. ah. idk i was just very happy the entire time. im sure there'll be a lotta folks bemoaning this that and the other and that's fine! please have fun doing that cos i know people do but man mlb is to me my fun baby show for babies but season 5 feels like it went "what if this show was everything you already loved AND it gave you catharsis on like 30 different things on a show you've been watching since episode 4"

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/22/22

yes of COURSE there is a cat update

listening

this portion sponsored once again by my sister, who keeps sending me tiktoks with good background music. this is Tezeta (Nostalgia) by Mulatu Astatke off the 1998 release Ethiopiques, Vol. 4 : Ethio Jazz & Musique Instrumentale (1969-1974). super mellow and comforting, very closely tied with the other one i’ll drop below for my favorite off this album.

there are thirty of these volumes btw. very good to listen to while i work. the lead track off this fourth album, Yèkèrmo Sèw (A Man of Experience and Wisdom) sounds very like much, much later group The Black Keys for the first few seconds. in the cool-toned guitar and the reverb. in the production i guess? like sure there’s a discussion to be had about where jazz and blues and rock overlap and how much, but it did startle my brain. i don’t have music words in my brain, just some math words

-

reading

fallow week. have some mack: right on the fucking tit/fruit bat hours.

she's started doing this thing where she rubs BOTH sides of her gums along my hand when i drape it off the couch. i would like to think this is the cat version of a kiss on both cheeks

-

watching

look i tried really hard to rewatch Goncharov (1973, dir. Scorsese) but my cat wouldn't let me. like of COURSE ive seen it before, i have a dad who was home on federal holidays and watched scorsese marathons on spike tv. fun fact i didn't know there was a bisexual threesome or cucking involved until i watched it for a college film class on villains, bc of course that was not shown on american daytime marathon television!

anyway. my cat. we have watched so many spaghetti westerns together. much gunfire. several gatling guns. i don't know what it is about the Guncharov that woke her up out of a deep sleep and had her fleeing from the room. like okay, it was a partially handmade (the stock is from the actor's mother's wedding chest) AK-47 made specially for this film, further underscoring how time has passed goncharov by and the gas operation subtly foreshadowing the later flashback of the mustard gas in the tunnel attack, but i don't think that should have affected the relative loudness of the Guncharov, and i think the gatling gun in A Bullet For The General (which we rewatched last week) was MUCH louder. my cat is too interested in headphone cords, and i'm trying to teach her that cords are boring and uninteresting and extremely not for cats, and i didn't really have the heart to finish the movie on mute with subtitles still up. the lovely score is so integral to all the sofya scenes.

-

playing

i have never played a pokemon. i have been bullied into horking up sixty three american dollars, or just barely under three hours of post-tax work. i am having an all right time so far but my best friend and her husband are so fucking thrilled we finally have 1) a game in common and 2) a game we can play together. sixty three american dollars is a pretty small friendship maintenance price in the grand scheme of things and it's not like it's really going to make an impact in my overall debt HA HA.

this game has also given me personally a great many gifts in the form of SO many buff women just floating about.

why are so many pokemon Just Guys? a worrying number of bipedal twinks i can keep in a box. anyway look how cute i look!!! yes i named my starter after my cat. i am legally obliged to do so.

i wanted red hair to go with the school uniform bc at my heart i am a weak and vain woman. where the fuck does a bitch get new shirts and pants instead of just new accessories tho

-

making

now when i flipped this frame over to the right side at goodwill, i fully expected there to be a pic of jfk. instead it was jesus, and now it has thigh high johnny cash. ty @dvar-trek for the excellent suggestion.

this is the worst framing and matting job i’ve ever done using my favorite trick of “flip the art already in there around for a double mat" but it just needed to stay together long enough for a gif. every time I moved the cord the light flickered on and off independently of the switch in the cord so we will be replacing that. probably repainting it too.