#testing it out before ive even finished it!!! so impatient.

[satans-knitwear]

two fluffy fools assisting me 🐶 they are holding their new bed still while i attempt to finish sewing it up.

[foodiegoogie]

what friends are for

sirius black x fem!reader ✮ 3.95k summary: you’re an overthinker at its finest; sirius is an overdoer when it comes to saving you from you and your thoughts. cw/tags: no use of y/n, highschool!au, biker!sirius (mentioned), too long for its own good,, nothing too heavy <3 also the teachers r still called professors here bcoz yes !

note: DAMN FINALLY ive finished this 😭 tho its still a little too long for my taste .. i am kinda proud of this :> this was a recycled thoma request, but since i kind of serve to the marauders audience now,, i decided to give it to sirius 🥰 happy reading! 🫶🏼

Having an overly active brain was both a blessing, and a curse. You loved your creativity and intelligence, and they definitely showed in your report cards. What you didn't like was how often you thought about simple, small matters, and then thought about it some more, and then some more after that. You were an overthinker at its finest. Everyone who knew you well enough would agree that you were a non-stop thinking machine, and they all hoped you would cut yourself some slack and give yourself a break.

“That’s easier said than done,” you’d say to them. Oh, what you wouldn't give to stop being a self-sufficient, but also self-pitying brainiac! 

But, as they all say, old habits die hard. That is why here you are, in class, watching your teacher collect your test papers and slowly getting into the routine of asking yourself the questions—the what-ifs, did-Is, and the like. 

You were bouncing your leg up and down restlessly while chewing on your bottom lip, looking very deep in thought, when you felt something hit your head lightly. A crumpled ball of paper landed in your point of view, breaking you out of the trance from overthinking. Picking it up, you opened it and smoothed it out to see what was written inside. 

You look like you just murdered someone and are now burdened by your guilty conscience.

Despite your sour mood, you managed to let out a snort and a soft smile after reading the line. You could recognize the flawlessly cursive handwriting anywhere; it belonged to your good friend, Sirius Black. And knowing him, you knew better than to come up with a snarky reply and retaliate. Getting caught chit chatting with someone like him during class hours could land you in detention, especially now that the teacher inside your classroom was the one and only Physics Terror, Professor McGonagall.

So, you crumple the piece of paper back into its ball shape, and stuff it into your backpack. A few seconds later, you feel something hit your head again. The culprit? Yet another crumpled ball of paper, now sitting on your desk. Letting curiosity get the best of you, you open it up and read what's written.

Ok, rude? Guess you can forget about getting my help cuz I know a good place to bury a body :)

Softly chuckling to yourself, you shook your head and wondered why you were even friends with someone as bizarre as Sirius while you put the crumpled paper in your bag. For a while, you didn’t feel anything light hit your head like you expected. But just as you were about to spiral into another endless stream of self-doubt, you were hit again with a crumpled ball of paper. 

Slowly, you turned around in your seat to glare at Sirius. You meet his eyes doing the same thing, and then gesturing impatiently at you to open the piece of paper he just threw at you. You stuck your tongue out at him out of spite before finally opening the piece of paper.

Y R U NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY?!

The sentence was written in bold black letters, underlined a bunch of times, and the punctuation marks at the end were twice the size of the letters. Having read the ridiculous note, you let out what might have been the loudest cackle you have ever let out in your highschool life.

You hear your name called out loudly by Professor McGonagall, in a stern tone that could only mean one thing for you. It felt absolutely mortifying to have your classmates' eyes on you, seeing their pity and amusement appear on their faces. 

"You'll be seeing Mr. Filch for detention after class," She said, zeroing in on you with her piercing glare. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead in your seat by now, and Sirius could use his knowledge of good places to bury dead bodies so he could bury yours. "I hope you'll learn your lesson in your time with him." 

"I will, Professor," You replied, the embarrassment reflecting in your voice.  Great—not only were you unsure about your grade for this class, but now you had one more thing to be worried about, as well as overthink about.

Unable to take on your classmates’ pitying looks on you, you crossed your arms on your desk and laid your head down against them, hiding your face from the prying eyes of your classmates. You could not handle any more humiliations. But you also thought that nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you put yourself in.

Then, you were proven wrong.

All of a sudden, you heard your classmates murmuring around you. Lifting your head up to see what was going on, you saw a paper plane glide smoothly through the air before it landed perfectly on the stack of test papers Professor McGonagall was currently grading. 

To some of your classmates, what happened afterward took less than a minute. But to the rest, including yourself, it seemed like eternity with how carefully Professor McGonagall dropped her pen, and took off her glasses. She picked up the paper plane and opened it up, narrowing her eyes at whatever was written inside. Unfortunately, none of you ever knew what was written inside. But you all knew that it wasn't any good, judging by the twitch in her eye and the frown on her face.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, her displeasure clearly heard in her voice and seen in the glare she gives everyone in the room. A beat passes, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers to someone sitting at the back of the classroom. 

Though you had a hunch on who it was they were pointing at, you hoped that you were wrong; that it turned out to be some other classmate of yours who had rotten luck just like you. Then, you were proven wrong… again.

You turned around in your seat just in time to meet the mischievous eyes of your raven-haired friend. He even took the time to throw you a playful wink before clearing his throat dramatically. 

"Good morning, Professor,” Sirius began, his hand closed in a fist like it was holding something near his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. It seems like my aeroplane experienced turbulence and crashed in your area. Terribly sorry, rookie mistake! Rest assured that I'll comply with whatever punishment you subject me to for the matter." 

"In that case, good, because you'll be serving detention alongside your classmate here," Professor McGonagall nods in your direction. "I hope you'll both learn something about rudely disrupting the peace and quiet during class hours with unnecessary distractions." She smiled, although anyone could tell it wasn't to be kind. Then, she returned to her previously interrupted task of grading test papers.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. Of course, he'd get himself into trouble, you thought. You turned to look at him, catching his attention, and mouthed the words, "What'd you do that for?"

Sirius shrugged in reply, a cheeky smile on his face before mouthing the word, "You."

—

Genuinely, you have always wondered how you managed to land yourself a place in Sirius’ life as one of his closest friends. It was one of the things you’ve thought about over and over, but have never really gotten to the bottom of. Nevertheless, you will always be grateful for having a friend like him, even if he does give you a headache sometimes.

It turns out that serving detention wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, having been assigned under Mr. Filch’s orders of tending to the flora and fauna stored in the school greenhouses. In fact, you were actually kind of enjoying it, and Sirius being with you totally wasn’t a part of the reason why. 

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” He remarked, spraying the lavenders with some water, a faint smile on his face. “I thought we’d be somewhere organizing Sprout’s herb collection or something.”

You laugh at his statement, “Not gonna lie, I expected something boring, too. But this is pretty nice.” You beamed at him, looking away from where you’d been adjusting potted plants accordingly where the sunlight was hitting. 

“Who knew we’d be so good at gardening?” 

“I know, right?” 

Sirius chuckled in reply, and you joined in with him, taking the time to look at him before returning to your task. He looked especially handsome whenever he laughed; eyes crinkled by the edges with amusement, his pearly whites on perfect display as he smiled. It also certainly didn’t help that on top of the black leather jacket he wore, he was wearing an apron, and a bandana tied around his hair which pushed it back to act as a headband, revealing his forehead which glistened with a thin layer of sweat. 

Sirius Black looked ridiculously handsome, and you didn’t need to think twice about that, because it was a well-known fact.

At that moment, you were so caught up in staring at him that Sirius caught you in action. It was already too late to look away and feign indifference for you as a smirk had started to make its way onto his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, more flirtatious tone than usual. Your brain loses its ability to function momentarily before you quickly wracked your mind for a snarky retort. 

“How original,” You quipped, trying to hide your momentary lapse in brain function at his unexpected tone. Sirius lets you get away with it, hiding a subtle smile of amusement to himself. 

Turning back to a pot of chrysanthemums you’d neglected briefly, you decide to change the topic. “So I was just wondering,” You began, a curious lilt to your voice. “What’d you write on that paper plane you flew to Professor McGonagall?” You queried as you turned to face him again, placing your hand on your hip.

“Oh, psh, that old thing?” Sirius waved it off dismissively as he wrapped up with his task of watering the flowers. “Just a little piece of an opinion I’ve been meaning to tell her.” 

“And just what was it you were meaning to tell her?” 

Before he answered your question, he took the time to take his bandana off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Then, he fixed his hair - running a hand through it and ruffling it up slightly. Inwardly, you had to admit, you almost forgot what you were talking about as you shamelessly watched him be… hot; and like he knew the effect it had on you—which he most likely did—he smirked at you. Again. 

“I told her that dogs were better than cats,” Sirius smiled wickedly. 

You gasped in horror. “No, you did not.” 

“Oh, yes I did,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know how she feels about cats, Sirius!” 

“Precisely the point, darling.”

To some, it would seem like something off of a controversial debate, like if pineapples belong on pizza for example. But to everyone who really knew Professor McGonagall well, saying things like that was just a recipe for disaster—with disaster meaning serving detention, of course.

“No wonder you ended up here,” You shook your head in disbelief at him. 

“Buuut, like I said, it’s not so bad here,” Sirius opposed, untying his apron from the back and behind his neck. “Plus, I’ve got good company.” He winked at you before hanging the apron on one of the hooks attached to the wall of the greenhouse.

You didn’t— no, couldn’t reply to him, seeing how you were caught off guard with what he said. But it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t good company for you, no. There was never a dull moment with him by your side. In fact, if it were someone else you were stuck with in detention, you wouldn’t have agreed with him earlier that serving it wasn’t so bad. And frankly speaking, if serving detention just meant extra time to hang out with Sirius Black, then you wouldn’t mind disrupting the peace and quiet of class hours every now and then.

Though that would certainly look bad on your report cards, so you mentally chastise yourself for even entertaining the thought. But you couldn’t deny that there was some truth behind it, at least. Or more than some.

“Let me walk you home?” Sirius asked as he regarded you with a certain gentleness in his grey eyes. You felt like melting on the spot, right then and there, as he lingered by the doorway to the greenhouse, waiting for your answer. 

But you managed to pull yourself together, and smiled at him. “Sure.”

—

On some days, you would have just taken the school bus home, and Sirius would have just gone on his motorbike. Though in the past, he’d asked you countless times if he could give you a ride home, of course, because it was quicker and more cost-efficient than taking the public transport. But with the way your face blanched at his offering, and the way you kept spewing facts upon facts about how motorbike riding was dangerous (Sirius tried to reassure you that it wasn’t for very obvious reasons), he settled for walking you home instead. 

While that had quickly become an almost regular occurrence for the both of you, Sirius always made sure to ask you first, despite the fact that he would have to go back for his motorbike parked at the school after. Knowing this, you tried very hard to kindly refuse him at first. But over time, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.

At the same time, you refrain yourself from giving it much thought. It was simply a kind gesture from a really good friend of yours, and that was that. 

A devilishly handsome, fiercely loyal, and incredibly caring… friend of yours. 

Walking home with Sirius never fails to make you feel better after a long day at school. The both of you are instantly engaged in meaningful conversation, debriefing the events that occurred during the day. You like to think it’s a mandatory routine by how often you do it, how often it happens, and how natural it feels. It’s definitely one of, or maybe the best way to de-stress and relax after spending a whole day just studying and working. 

If only he could keep the teasing to a minimum, though. 

“I’m just saying, you know,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked beside you. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.” 

You scoff in disbelief, the sarcastic reply bubbling up in your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it whenever I laugh at your jokes?” 

“Never said I didn’t, love,” He responded, voice softening at the term of endearment used. “But you could’ve been saved from Minnie’s wrath if you hadn’t done that evil cackle of yours that you call a ‘laugh.’” Sirius chuckled slightly as he spoke, reminding you both of your embarrassment. 

“Okay, first of all, rude,” You shot him a half-hearted glare, a smile threatening to come alive on your lips. “And second of all, it’s your fault that I accidentally laughed out loud during class.”

Sirius scoffed immediately, taking full offense as he turned away from you. “‘Accidentally,’ she says.” 

“What? It’s true!” 

“So I suspect you must have ‘accidentally’ found me funny, too?” He air-quoted. 

You let out a sigh, feeling exasperated and slightly frustrated by his consistently witty replies. It seemed like Sirius never ran out of energy when it came to your banter, filled with incessant teasing (coming from Sirius himself most of the time, of course) and lighthearted jabs at each other. But even with your patience increasingly wearing thin with him, you found yourself looking forward to the banter every time. In spite of his knack for getting on your nerves more often than not, you liked sharing it with him. It was almost as if it was something only you and Sirius shared - intimate and unique to your dynamic.

“Whatever, Sirius,” You settled for a dismissive response eventually, rolling your eyes as you did so. Though you knew that he would take the piss out of you again for your lack of a snarky retort.

But to your surprise, the boy only chuckled in amusement, kicking a few pebbles and leaves out of the way as the two of you continued to walk. You didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a likely thing for people to do when they walk on sidewalks riddled with objects in the way. 

(But little did you know about Sirius’ true intentions, though.)

After a moment of comfortable silence, you decided to speak up again. 

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Sirius interrupts with a snort of laughter. “When are you not?” “Please shut up and let me finish.” “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he said. Though with the ever so present smirk on his face, and the hint of mirth in his eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was truly sorry. “What were you wondering about in that pretty head of yours?” You paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your question. Sirius gave you a brief glance, curious about what you were thinking of that had you pondering like this.

“Why’d you do it?” You finally blurted out.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that for me, love.”

Sirius earns the sweet sound of your chuckling, and he zeroes in on the slight flush that appeared on your cheeks, betraying your embarrassment.

“I’m talking about earlier, Sirius. During Physics? When you flew that paper plane to McGonagall?”

His lips formed an O shape as he came to the realization of what you were referring to. And as if the reminder was nothing but a lighthearted one, Sirius snickered to himself.

“And? What about that?” 

You sigh, internally wondering how on earth he could find such a thing so amusing. Sure, perhaps Professor McGonagall had developed some sort of fondness or a soft spot for Sirius over the years he’d acted against her in his mischief. But the fact still remained that McGonagall was not to be taken lightly to, especially not during her class. 

“I was just wondering why you would do such a thing. I mean.. it was certainly unprovoked, don’t you think?” 

“‘Unprovoked,’ you say? Is that what you really think?” 

There’s a shift in his tone this time around when he spoke, though there still remained the unmistakable, and ever so present hint of a tease in his voice. You studied his face intently as you thought of a response. 

“Yeah. I mean, whatever did you do that for?” 

Sirius sighed, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration with you or exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you already? I did it for you, you daft woman.” 

You resist the urge to scoff at his remark of you being a supposed daft woman. “I thought you were just messing with me there when you said that.”

“‘Messing with you?’ Why would I—“ He cut himself off with another sigh. 

Oh, so he’s frustrated, you realized. 

“You know, for someone whose mind runs a thousand miles per hour, you can be really clueless sometimes.” 

You let yourself scoff by then, feeling indignant. “What are you on about now?” 

Sirius almost smirked at your words, and you knew that by the twitch at the corner of his lips. You tear your eyes away from them, focusing on his eyes instead. 

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Surely, you know why I did that, and why I risked detention?”

Deep down, you had an inkling as to what he was telling you. But you refused to acknowledge it aside from the fact that it was downright ridiculous. After all, you firmly believed yourself to be out of Sirius Black’s league. Your dynamic was synonymous to one of those Paramore songs that went, “He was a punk, she did ballet. Can I make it anymore obvious?” 

And as if he could read you, and sense your inner thoughts, Sirius sighed for what seemed like the nth time of that moment. Though now it had sounded almost… sad? 

“Shall I spell it aloud for you, then?” He broke the silence, his voice deeper and tinged with seriousness. 

“Yes.” Please. For my own sake. 

He takes a deep breath first, although the both of you didn’t know for what exactly. But it felt like it was necessary for Sirius, and so—

“I did it for you, ‘cause,” He paused, seemingly trying to push the words out of his mouth. Why he was forcing them out, you didn’t know. “What friends are for, right?” 

Well, admittedly, that kind of stung you inside. For a moment—a fleeting, hopeful moment—you wanted Sirius to say that he did it for you, and that was that. Just for you. For the sake of keeping you company, and letting it be up for interpretation on whether it was done under platonic intentions or… not. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, mentally chastising yourself for ever expecting such a thing. “What friends are for.” 

Sirius is looking at you pensively, noticing a hint of your disappointment in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and in the way you looked away from him as you replied. He wondered why.

But, ever the one to cheer his friends up, Sirius clears his throat to catch your attention, his grey eyes glittering with mirth. 

“And besides,” he added. “You would’ve gone mad if you served detention all alone. You’re kind of a danger to yourself here, love.” He ruffled your hair playfully as he said this, eliciting a smile from you. 

“Hey! It doesn’t get that bad, you know,” You defend yourself, fixing your hair with your fingers. Sirius helps you out by tucking the wayward strands of hair, covering your face, behind your ear. 

He snickered. “Trust me, love. I know how bad it can get.” 

In truth, Sirius has always found it endearing—your knack for getting a little lost in your head more often than not. But he was also one of those people who wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, to tell you to give yourself a damn break. So, he’ll take any chance to distract you from your thoughts. And if that meant angering McGonagall and serving detention, he didn’t mind at all. 

The rest of your walk home goes easily after that, the lighthearted atmosphere returning despite the momentary shift to the slightest, almost imperceptible indication to the feelings you harbored for each other—though unacknowledged on both sides of the party in fear of losing the other.

Although, Sirius suspects that he’ll be brave enough for the both of you one day to bring these feelings into light. 

In the meantime, he’ll let you get away with your acting aloof and coy about it. He’ll gladly wait until you’re ready to hear what he’s always wanted to tell you. 

So, as the two of you bask in the orange hue of the afternoon sun, walking down the path to your home, you don’t realize that it’s only a few steps away until you’ve reached your destination. You were getting carried away (again) with ranting about tomorrow’s quizzes, and Sirius is trying (again) to calm your anxieties, and reassure you. 

At the very same time, he realizes the increasing distance between the two of you and your home. He doesn’t make a move to tell you, and you simply don’t notice.

( ♡ )

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

 ~

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?” 

*

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him. 

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.  

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper. 

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did. 

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy. 

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day. 

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole. 

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill. 

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair. 

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[vs-redemption]

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch.23)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Commence Procedure (HawksxGN!Reader)

From Cindy: This chapter is almost twice the length of the others and I apologize for that. I also apologize for the lack of Hawks. I’m planning on focusing the entire next chapter on him and the reader though, so look forward to that!

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:  

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

⚠️ This chapter mentions medical stuff like needles and seizures

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson @omiwashere

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

“Today is the big day!” Dr. Garaki announces the next time you’re in the lab. Thankfully, Shigaraki hadn’t made a move to kill you when you arrived, so you assumed the meeting with the Hero Commission had been a success and that nobody knew you had divulged so much sensitive information about the doctor’s plan to them. “Shigaraki, are you excited?”

“Let’s just get started already,” the villain groans impatiently. “I’ll be excited once this is all over and all the heroes are dead.”

“Actually, I’m a little concerned about something,” you speak up before things could progress any further. The doctor hadn’t given you any prior warning that Shigaraki’s procedure would begin that day, but you weren’t surprised. He’d probably kept the exact date from you on purpose as a safety precaution.

“Oh?” Garaki eyes you curiously, “What is it?”

“I’d rather talk to you about it in private,” you admit while glancing warily over at Shigaraki, who predictably began to throw a fit. His red eyes, which were filled with suspicion, bore into you as if he believed intimidation alone would be enough to get you to confess to plotting something behind his back. Luckily for him though, your business with the doctor had nothing to do with schemes to do him any harm.

“It’ll only take a minute,” you add the promise just to try and put the villain at ease.

“All right,” The doctor nods. “I have to check on the high-ends anyway, so you can come with me and tell me once we’re in there.” Shigaraki lets out a sigh of annoyance, but the situation couldn’t have gone any better for you. If the doctor was allowing you to accompany him into the second lab, it would give you the chance to get another look at the nomus. You knew that any information you could pass along about the high-ends would be appreciated by the Hero Commission.

You and the doctor made some small talk as you walk through the dimly lit tunnel, taking care not to trip or step on any of the tangled up tubes and wires lining the floor, walls, and ceiling. The place used to creep you out a bit, but nothing really compared to the unease of working under the watchful eyes of Shigaraki. Once you arrive in the second lab and the door is securely shut behind you, Dr. Garaki finally turns the conversation to business.

“I wanted to let you know that the Hero Commission finally gave me permission to see the high-end from the Kyushu incident,” you tell him even though he should already know. Hawks had been present for the conversation for the very purpose of having the villains listen in. Of course, you hadn’t really gone to the Commission’s lab that day, but the president had still begrudgingly released the information they’d gathered on the nomu so that you’d be able to make the story more believable when talking to the doctor.

“Really?” The doctor pretends to be surprised. He looks at you curiously before beginning the walk through the giant liquid filled glass chambers where the high-ends sat dormant. You weighed the pros and cons of activating your quirk to record as many details of the room as you could in your mind for the Hero Commission. The doctor knew the exact length of time you could use your quirk though, so if he asked you to use it today and you were missing a minute or two he would certainly start asking questions.

“That high-end was killed by Endeavor’s flames,” you say. “Its body was burnt to a crisp from the inside out, but didn’t that nomu have a regenerative quirk?”

“That’s right,” The doctor nods before setting to work running some diagnostics from his computer. When the screen lights up with valuable information about each nomu, you know you have to risk using your quirk. You had no idea what small tidbit might mean the difference between a hero living or dying.

“I’m just a little worried,” you admit. “If that high-end wasn’t able to heal fast enough to keep up with the damage it sustained from Endeavor’s flames, there’s no way to be sure that Shigaraki won’t have the same problem.” The doctor glances over his shoulder at you to show you’d caught his interest, so you continue.

“Sure,” you shrug while trying not to make it obvious you were looking at his computer. “All for one’s quirk might be stronger overall because we’re using a living host with DNA fused much more completely than the nomus, but that still doesn’t mean Shigaraki can’t get overwhelmed.” You take the chance to glance around at the high-ends. Even knowing the build of their bodies could give insight to what they were capable of.

“We don’t even know if Shigaraki’s DNA samples ever stopped needing to regenerate either,” you continue your speech. “We just know that the rate of regeneration reached an equilibrium. If Shigaraki’s DNA isn’t truly fused, and it’s just in a constant state of regeneration, his whole body might start to break down the moment he’s in any kind of physical distress.”

Dr. Garaki turns to give you his complete attention after that. “Are you trying to get me to delay Shigaraki’s procedure?”

“No,” you give your answer confidently because it was the truth. “It’s been made quite clear that we don’t have the luxury of having more time for testing. I just didn’t want to jump head first into this thing without all possible outcomes being laid out on the table. This procedure is meant to give Shigaraki more power, but it could very well backfire and make him completely defenseless.”

“I didn’t know you cared that much about Shigaraki,” the smile on the doctor’s face looked a bit more manic than you were used to. Surely he didn’t think you were actually starting to sympathize with the villain’s cause?

“I don’t,” you tell him bluntly. “Not really. At least, I don’t care about him any more or less than I would anyone else. I just want both of you to have a fair warning. You are more reasonable than he is though, which is why I’m telling you first.”

“Shigaraki can be rather melodramatic at times,” The doctor concedes. “You don’t have to worry about him though. Even if his body won’t hold up well in a fight, it’ll still be an advantage for him to have All For One’s quirk at his disposal.” The ominous smile on Dr. Garaki’s face intensifies. “Besides, Shigaraki will never be defenseless. He has plenty of resources to rely on for protection, the high-ends just being one of them.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” You say while finally deactivating your quirk. You were reaching your limit even after the boost you’d gained from eating a handful of almonds with your breakfast that morning. “That makes me feel a little better I guess.”

Of course, you didn’t really feel better. You knew the resources the doctor was referring to. Shigaraki had more than just the high-end nomus and the massive army of civilian soldiers that had rallied behind him. He also had a fiercely loyal follower with some sort of monster quirk that the Hero Commission still had no real specific information about. All they knew was that this guy was huge and strong. Hawks had actually seen him a few times during the time he spent working with the villains. The rumor was that the giant man could sleep for ridiculous amounts of time, and only ever acted on direct orders from Shigaraki. He sounded terrifying and you really hoped the heroes could find a way to take down the league without ever needing to get into a confrontation with the giant villain.

“Let’s keep your concerns about the procedure to ourselves though,” Dr. Garaki shuts down his computer and gestures for you to follow him back to the main lab. “There’s no reason to get Shigaraki more nervous than he already is. We’ll be able to monitor his condition once the procedure commences, and we can make alterations as needed.”

“All right,” you agree to his decision while heading back to where Shigaraki was waiting for both of you to return.

“That was much longer than a minute,” the leader of the villains snaps once you emerge from behind the secret panel that hid the tunnel.

“I apologize,” The doctor tells him with his normal smile back in place. “You won’t need to wait a moment more though. Let’s get you set up and comfortable so we can get begin the procedure.”

Shigaraki made a stink for a moment about wanting to know what you’d needed to talk about behind his back, but the doctor managed to placate him with some random excuses. After Shigaraki calmed down, you led him over to the hospital bed that had been brought down for him. You managed to get him to lay down and set up with IVs while Dr. Garaki prepared the serum.

“Are you ready for the anesthesia?” you ask Shigaraki while holding up the vial. “Once this is administered, you’re going to fall asleep really fast and we won’t be able to wake you up again until the procedure is finished.”

“Yes, I’m ready.” There was a slight hesitation in his voice, making him appear more human in your eyes for a moment. Even though you were meant be staying neutral, it still upset you to be doing such a dangerous experiment on a living person. There was a chance Shigaraki would never wake up, and even though he was already responsible for so much death and destruction, you couldn’t help but feel bad about whatever life he’d lived in the past that had brought him to this point.

“Okay,” you hand the anesthesia to the doctor since he had the proper training to handle that and you prepare yourself mentally for injecting the serum. You watch Shigaraki’s face relax and after a few seconds his eyes drift closed. Your eyes dart to the machine monitoring his vitals and everything looked normal.

“That was the easy part,” Dr. Garaki tells you before gesturing at the syringe in your hand.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh to release some of your own tension, then shake your head before reaching out to take Shigaraki’s arm and inserting the needle. After the serum is injected, both you and the doctor wait silently for a moment to see what would happen. Things seemed okay for a moment, but then Shigaraki’s entire body started to convulse, setting off an alarm on the device monitoring his vitals.

“That’s not good,” You turn to the doctor who looked extremely concerned that things were going this poorly already.

“Get him on his side,” Dr. Garaki orders and you quickly jump into action. You put your hands under Shigaraki and roll him over as gently as possible, trying not to restrict his movement too much. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do for him except wait for the episode to pass. Once the shaking stops, Shigaraki’s vitals go back to normal and you roll him back over so he’s lying flat again.

“That was a stronger reaction than we anticipated,” your eyes scan over Shigaraki’s unconscious form, suddenly wishing you had more of a medical background.

“I’d like to run a few brain scans to see if there’s anything noteworthy going on in his head that might have contributed to the seizure,” Garaki scratches at his mustache, still on edge from what happened. “Can you take a blood sample and check how the DNA merging process is going?”

“Sure,” you go to gather the supplies you need. When you get the blood sample under the microscope, you’re frustrated to see that most of the chromosomes aren’t attempting to fuse at all. The few that do move and bind together look more like that of a nomu than a person. You report the findings to the doctor right before Shigaraki’s body starts to have another violent reaction.

“At this rate, we’ll have to keep him under twenty-four hour surveillance,” The doctor had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead now. Things were not going well at all. “I still want to do those head scans though.”

“Yeah, okay,” You nod your head. “I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“I appreciate that,” Dr. Garaki says, even though you got the feeling he wouldn’t have let you leave anyway with Shigaraki in such an unstable state. Hopefully, you’d find a way to get the villain under control soon though since there was a limit on the amount of time you could keep the information from your quirk inside your mind. You had to play your role diligently though, even if it meant helping keep Shigaraki alive at the risk of losing every scrap of information you’d gathered for the Hero Commission.

It was well into the early hours of morning before Dr. Garaki finally allowed you to go home and rest. The sun had long past set and was already on the rise again as you rode the train back to your apartment. Shigaraki was still having random fits, but they seemed to be coming less often and with less intensity as before. The doctor would be able to manage without you for a little while. All you wanted to do when you finally got home was sleep, but everything you’d seen in the second lab would be gone just as soon as you closed your eyes for too long. You put on a pot of coffee, grabbed a notebook, and began to scribble down everything as fast as you could before the exhaustion inevitably took over.

[happytsukki]

common sense

k. tsukishima

you were a fool. but only for tsukishima. (f! reader)

a/n: ive been reading the manga and chapters 370+ literally have me bawling, im so emotionally attached. also fun fact you cant get your drivers license in japan till you graduate high school,,big rip for (y/n) and her food.

someone with common sense would’ve ran home to avoid the predicted forecast. they would’ve enjoyed safely arriving home without getting a single drop of rain on their uniform. but you lacked common sense.

the steady beat of raindrops hitting the ground accompanied by a strong gust of wind greeted you as you exited the school. you stood waiting, a bright green umbrella painted with purple triceratops in one hand while you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“what are you still doing here?” a voice suddenly asked, snapping you out of your trance. looking up you locked eyes with tsukishima causing a champagne pink hue to creep onto your cheeks.

“oh, i-uh, knew you didn’t have an umbrella, so i figured i would wait for you and we could walk together,” you beamed. tsukishima rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, but you swore you could see the corners of his lips curl up.

you knew tsukishima. you knew he hated the rain and deep down, he appreciated your kind gesture even if he didn’t say it.

he grabbed the umbrella in your hand and opened it outside the safety of the building. he took two steps into the rain before turning around to realize you were still frozen on the steps of karasuno high. there you were, an idiot shivering from head to toe in the cold weather, yet you still had a smile painted across your face.

“are you gonna just stand there or are you actually coming?” he muttered, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

“coming!!” you cooed before running down the steps and practicing colliding with him as you pressed closer to him under the tiny umbrella. maybe you should’ve packed a bigger umbrella, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

you walked in unison, small drops falling onto your sweater as you could barely fit under the umbrella with the beanpole. you took notice of one hand tucked away in the warmth of his jacket and the other clutching the umbrella for the two of you. and with your warm gloves, you placed a hand over his.

“sorry, your hand seemed a little cold” you blurted out, slightly afraid he would take his hand away in disgust. but he didn’t, he let you hold his hand. you could finally release the breath you were holding and smiled. rainy days never felt good. the sky may have been dark and gloomy, but being with him felt as if it was another spring day, the sun beaming brightly and the birds chirping.

your walk consisted of asking tsukishima about his volleyball club season and him asking about your classes. you wanted to amuse him, to hear his laugh just once, so you told him the story of how you went to school thinking you math test only to find it was actually an english test, receiving a grade no higher than your age.

and miraculously, he laughed. it was subtle and quiet, but it took away your breath and made your heart race.

tsukishima halted, finally arriving at his home. he glanced up at the sky before catching it slowly transform from a color to a baby blue.

“it stopped raining—“ you cut him off midsentence, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him closer before you placed a quick peck on his lips.

“bye!” you shouted as you ran away. leaving poor tsukishima standing there, dumbfounded as to why his heart was beating so fast and why his knees turned into complete jelly.

you liked tsukishima. and luckily, he liked you too.

someone with common sense would’ve finished their homework and took advantage of a night free of worry. they would’ve enjoyed a full eight hours of sleep while dreams danced through their mind. but you lacked common sense.

the kitchen clock read 2:18, you were growing impatient waiting for cookies in the oven. before your crazy attempt to make lunches and treats for the entire karasuno team, you studied for your history test and finished a 10-page essay due the next day.

with your apron stained with all sorts of condiments and food, you glanced at the pile of bento boxes placed on your dining table. each decorated with a name of every player on karasuno’s mens volleyball club, of course including the cutest managers and best coaches.

the lunch box on top, reading my tsukki, my moon made with extra love and care for you boyfriend.

tomorrow was the miyagi prefectural qualifiers and as much as you wanted to be there, you had school. you longed to be in the crowds, screaming for tsukki and karasuno at the top of your lungs. so of course, you felt guilty for not being able to give your support. an alternative? food.

beep beep. the timer of the oven finally went off and you breathed a sigh of relief. you weren’t sure how long you could keep your eyelids open. your tiredness must’ve gotten to your head because without a second thought you opened the oven and reached for the scorching pan.

you spewed a variety of curses quietly in an attempt to not wake your parents, but the pain was intolerable. after taking the cookies out with the opposite hand, throwing them in a container and trying to type out ‘how to deal with burns’ with your pinky while one hand held ice (not a good idea) to the burn— you fell asleep on the couch.

not even 3 hours later, you woke up. oh the things i do for this boy. you shook your head, a smile creeping onto your face just thinking about him. you quickly throw on a hoodie and carefully place the food into a basket attached to your bike.

the sun had barely come up, just peeking from the horizon. it was way too early. riding your bike to karasuno while you rubbed your eyes constantly and yawned nonstop was a challenge. you almost tipped over several times. but once you arrived you were greeted by a horde of “hey it’s y/n!!” but the only thing you could really hear was “y/n what are you doing here?”

“well, good morning to you too, tsukki,” you chirped, taking the food out of your basket and carefully distributing it to everyone.

“wow y/n, you really didn’t have to do this.” daichi said. “but this does look amazing.” sugawara butt in, admiring the cute design. “y/n you’re the best, seriously!!” praised hinata, already shoving a small bite into his mouth for a quick ‘taste.’

when you handed tsukki his, confusion and worry came across his face. “but— look at you y/n. you look terrible.” he spat, reaching over to inspect your face. he titled your chin up and pulled your eyes wide.

“is that what you tell your girlfriend after she spent all night to make you lunch?” you pouted, slightly hurt from how he reacted.

“i think y/n looks pretty, like always.” yamaguchi gushed from afar.

“shut up yamaguchi.” “sorry tsukki!!”

“but you know thats not what i meant. i’m just worried about, you look like you haven’t sleep at all.” he shook his head.

“hey! technically i slept for 3 hours.” you argued, earning a signature tsukishima eye roll from the man himself.

“you’re an idiot, y/n. but thank you.” he muttered and placed a kiss on your forehead. suddenly, coach ukai cut in and yelled for everyone to get in the van. groaning, tsukki squeezed you into a hug.

“sorry i can’t be there, but win for me and i’ll be there next match. i promise” you pouted, adding an extra boost of encouragement for tsukishima. these days, you’d noticed how passionate he’d become about the sport and no words could describe your happiness over this.

after waving bye to the team and wishing them the best of luck, you stood alone in the parking lot. happy and excited for what was to come for the karasuno boys volleyball club. but stupid for thinking you could make it through the rest of your day on the mere 3 hours of sleep.

you were an idiot— a fool, perhaps.

someone might as well hand you a jester hat and shoes, bells included, of course. because you were a fool, for tsukishima kei only.

someone with common sense would’ve followed the sign saying “only players allowed on court.” they would’ve yelled praises of encouragement from the stands and just sent a text. but you lacked common sense.

as soon as you saw red liquid ooze from tsukishima’s hand, you hoped out of your seat and grabbed your belongings without hesitation. oh no. your heart sunk and before yachi could even try to calm you down you were already running.

past the crowds and down the stairs leading to the court. you sprinted towards the karasuno team, completely ignoring the officials yelling at you.

you gently pushed through tsukishima’s teammates and an angry expression reached your face once you met eyes with the boy.

“tsukishima kei, are you stupid?” you cursued at him. his face turns a slight pink as his teammates snicker at your typical girlfriend antics. meanwhile, several tournament officials walked over to check on tsukishima’s condition and kick you off the court since you weren’t a player. but you didn’t care. you took his hurt hand into yours, putting your face closer to examine the extent of his injury.

he winced in pain causing your anger to melt away. “you almost gave me a heart attack, you have no idea how worried i was up th-“ you blab on before tsukishima reassures you.

“y/n i’m still breathing, right? you care about me that much huh?” tsukishima smirked as he tried to hide the pain he felt in his right hand.

“okay lovebirds, why don’t you go to the medical office together and get it checked out? we’re going to need you back on the court, tsukishima.” coach ukai quickly sends the two of you away in hopes of him returning by the fifth set.

akiteru and yachi anxiously follow as you and tsukishima rush to the medical office. they wait outside and the doctor tells you two that only his pinky is discolated and the rest of his fingers are fine, so he can still return but he has to wait for the bleeding to stop. the doctor excuses himself to get more bandages, leaving the two of you alone.

you stand up from your seat to stand in front of tsukishima. his face is serious, clearly still fixated on the game still going on at the moment. you wanted to give him peace but you couldn’t hold in how proud you were.

you go on to explain how amazed you were. “and when you jumped up to block, i knew ushijima had no chance— then BOOM! his spike goes straight down into the floor. i think i broke yachi’s eardums with my screaming. not to mention how hot you looked out there like what the hell??” you gushed, making tsukishima smile amidst his pain.

he pulled you in closer and wrapped his long arms around your torso, tucking his face into the comfort of your neck. like muscle memory, your hand finds its way to his back and began to rub circles.

“you’re really sweaty, tsukki. its kinda gross.” you whisper into his hear making him click his tongue in response. but despite the perspiration dripping down his back, you honestly didn’t mind.

tsukishima pulls away, his eyes wander around your face. his breath hitching at your every feature, especially at how your eyes possessed a unique twinkle that didn’t just resemble stars but the entire galaxy. then he remembers the day he fell in love with you, that day you walked home together in the rain.

“god y/n, you’re crazy you know that, right? but i love you.” he chuckles. “i know.” you proudly state while you try to hide the fact that your heart was physically hurting from how fast it was beating. “and i-“ you sprinkle a dozen kisses all over tsukishima’s face. one for eveything you loved about him.” love you too, kei” you say before pressing your swollen lips against his.

“now go out there and beat shiratorizawa’s ass!”

and that’s exactly what he does.

[my-proof-is-you]

In Our Blood - Ch. 5

Request from  junnuevosoltransformalarealidad: Hey! Can you do one where reader is the little sister and she has a “normal” life aside the hunting (she does mostly research), where in a hunt she gets hurt and the boys find out she’s been harassed at college/high school/whatever (you pick)? I love your writing!!

*NO Wincest

Warnings: rape/non-con

Masterlist  |  Tag Yourself!

*I do not own any pics or gifs

Dean 

He didn’t know how he would find him, but when he did, that fucker that touched you was going to die. 

You wouldn’t tell him. Dean had tried repeatedly to get you to say the name of the guy that hurt you, but you wouldn’t say a word. 

“I’m not gonna tell you his name and have you going to jail for murder,” you finally said after the twelfth time Dean asked.

“Y/N, I’m not gonna kill him,” Dean said calmly, sitting down next to your bedside and holding your hand. “I’m just gonna cut off his dick so he can never hurt anyone else again.”

“Okay, well, that’s assault. And seeing as how we have no proof of what he did, claiming he ‘hurt’ me in court is not gonna hold up.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. He knew you were right. Didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off. 

“Y/N,” Sam began, sitting on the other side of your hospital bed, “I know you didn’t tell us what happened and I get it.” His eyes shifted from you to Dean and back again. “But did you tell a doctor? Did you get checked out? I mean you really should make sure he didn’t...give you something.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think of that,” you said, your eyes suddenly panicked. You turned back to Dean. “Dean...I can’t tell the story again. I can’t.”

“Shh, I know, sweetheart,” he said, squeezing your hand. You were starting to panic again. “We’ll take care of it, okay?” 

You gave a small nod and relaxed. Dean stood and motioned with his head for Sam to join him outside. 

The brothers approached the nurses’ station, getting the attention of your nurse they’d come to know over the previous two days. 

“Hi, Jeanne,” he began. She peered up at him through her glasses that had slid part-way down her nose. She wasn’t his biggest fan, what with how he barked orders at her when he and Sam first brought you in. He couldn’t help it, he was worried about you.

“Can I help you, Mr. Winchester?” she asked, not an ounce of patience in her voice.

“Yeah, you can. Our sister...she…”

“Yes?” she asked, impatient.

“She needs to have a rape kit done,” Sam finished for him. Dean was thankful. He couldn’t bring himself to say the “r” word out loud yet. 

Jeanne’s eyes widened before she composed herself and went into business-mode. She pulled out a clipboard and a pen. 

“When did this happen?” she asked. 

“About two weeks ago,” Dean responded. Jeanne gave him a look as if to say, “really?”

“We only just found out,” Sam said. “And to be honest, she was barely able to tell us. So if possible, we would like to have this handled discreetly for now.”

She nodded slowly, looking back down at her clipboard and taking notes. “No problem, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean felt relief flood through him. He couldn’t stand the thought of some dick-ass detectives or police coming in here and grilling you about it.

Jeanne stood, using her pen to push her glasses back up her nose. “Now there won’t be any forensic evidence at this point, as it’s been much too long for that. We can, however, check for STDs and pregnancy.”

Sam and Dean nodded, following behind Jeanne as she approached your room. She stopped when she got to the door, turning to face the brothers.

“Now you two, shoo. She won’t want you here for this.” 

Sam nodded, immediately turning in the direction of the cafeteria. Dean stayed for a moment, his protective side not wanting him to leave you alone. Jeanne stared him down, though, her arms crossed. Dean sighed and turned around as well, following his brother to the cafeteria for a crappy cup of coffee.

You

The ringing in your ears grew deafening, and you watched as the doctor’s lips continued to move but you didn’t hear a word she was saying. 

You wished you could rewind to two minutes ago. You wished you could forget everything she said when she came in with the rape kit results. 

“So far you are free of STDs. We’ll have you come back in six months to check again, though, as some don’t show up on tests right away.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, though. 

“Now, Y/N, I have some news that may shock you. Just remember that you do have options, and we can help you through the process however you need.”

Your heart began to pound, sure that whatever she said next would change things forever. 

“You are pregnant.”

Now, as your hearing started to come back you heard the heart rate machine beeping wildly. All you could do was stare while you attempted to catch your breath. The doctor was barking orders at a nurse who hurried to the medical cart to get something. Your brothers burst into the room, concern etched on their faces. 

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked. 

His hands hovered over you as if he didn’t know what was causing your pain.

“She’s having a panic attack,” the doctor responded, taking a syringe of something from the nurse and injecting it into your IV. Your heart rate began to slow and the beeping returned to normal as you slowly laid back, your head suddenly too heavy to hold up. 

“She’ll be okay,” the doctor said. Your brothers were asking her a barrage of questions, but you didn’t hear what they were. They became muffled, your last thought as your eyes slipped closed a question.

What am I going to do?

Chapter 6

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14​ @divadinag​ @lynne1993​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @infj-slytherclaw​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @sammykb1994​ @lilulo-12​ @mellorine-paprika​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @collette04​ @hoboal87​ @bi-danvers0​ @miraclesoflove​ @defenderrosetyler​ @babypink224221​ @calaofnoldor​ @beatifuldisaster018​ @satans-0-spawn​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @supernatural3002​ @lainxcas​ @mylovelydame21​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @lovely-lynns-likes​ @ppeachygemss​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @metalfangirl​ @vicmc624​

In Our Blood

@skeletoresinthebasement​ @akshi8278​ @ootadilo​ @allourown​

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Three

FFN II AO3

Chapter Summary: Red discovers that Tom is missing and tracks him down to St Regis while Tom looks for any answers he can find.

-----

Chapter Three

No one met him at the door. Not Benny, the guard who was always looking for his first chance to grab a morning smoke or Lomay who you could set a clock by the last weeks. Reddington risked a glance back at Dembe only to find the younger man brushing past him and taking the lead. It was clear something was off, even if he didn't have his gun drawn yet.

That changed for both of them as soon as they rounded into the hallway to see a figure laid out, white sheet covering him. They moved with a synchronicity that spoke of their years working together, Red clearing the rest of the hall and pressing the up button on the elevator at the other end before moving past to where Dembe had his cell phone pressed to his ear. "Dr Lomay isn't answering and Dr Chen's phone rolls straight to voicemail."

"Elizabeth," Reddington breathed, her name rolling off his tongue with no small amount of desperation in it. If she'd been saved only to lose her here, he didn't think he could bear it. Not again.

Dembe cleared the stairwell, Red following at his heels, and then to the second floor hallway once they reached it. It was there that any restraint dissipated and the Concierge of Crime tore past him with the single goal of reaching Elizabeth's room. The door stood slightly ajar, movement barely visible, and he swung into the room with his gun raised. Melissa Lomay let out a startled sound and dropped the bag of fluids she'd been replacing on Elizabeth's IV rack.

Reddington instantly lowered his weapon. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I've been a little busy," the doctor snapped, reaching to check the bag. Once she was convinced it was undamaged, she continued replacing the depleted one.

"What happened?"

She shot him a look, but answered. "Best I can tell Mr Keen finally had enough of the secrets."

"What?"

"He's gone. Daniel has a concussion from where Keen attacked him in the stairwell and Benny, as I'm sure you saw, is dead. His gun is missing."

"And Elizabeth?"

"Slept through it all."

Red finally loosed a breath, but turned a sharp glare on the doctor half a second later. "He was supposed to be sedated."

"He was. Steadily. Apparently he found a way around that on top of the typical limitations of someone with injuries like his. It was a move of a desperate man. We warned you that what you were attempting with Andrei was -"

"Yes, you've said as much," Reddington grumbled, waving her off. That was neither here nor there at this point. The key was finding Tom before he hurt himself further. Red had seen the blood stains against the wall like a man trying to keep himself on his feet as he stumbled towards the door. He just hadn't known it was Elizabeth's husband that had left them there.

"I have the footage," Dembe said from behind and Red turned. He hadn't even heard him leave.

He took the offered tablet and watched the four squares of recorded footage. Tom making his way down the hall from his room to Elizabeth's and then out again just a handful of moments later. The second box showed him exiting into the hallway below and the third box showing him stumbling into the street just outside of the building, a phone pressed to his ear. Chen's, Reddington suspected. It was likely in pieces now and impossible to trace. The last box showed a steady stream of the back alley, Tom never making it around that way.

"Get this footage to Glen. Have him trace Tom's path."

"Of course."

"If we don't find him soon, we won't find him at all."

                                                       --------

He thought he remembered someone ushering him into a car. Someone greeting him by name, hands on him to guide him, and then stretches of nothing. He thought he might have woken up here and there, but it was all interwoven with shadows of faces he couldn't quite see and voices he couldn't quite hear. There was one that was a little louder, a little more clear, and she called his name even if it wasn't Jacob. Somehow he knew it was his name, but even she faded eventually.

By the time Jacob's eyes slid open again, the sound of medical equipment all around, the dreams were gone. He knew he'd had them, but they were lost to the fog of his mind. Everything was by the time he pried his eyes open again.

"Welcome back, Mr Phelps."

"Hank," Jacob croaked, his throat dry and scratchy as he looked up at a familiar face. Hank Rogers had been over St Regis' medical facilities since before even Jacob had arrived years before. The man had patched him up more times than he could remember and if his surroundings were anything to go by he'd done it yet again. "What happened?"

There was a moment of hesitation and a flash of uncertainty. "You called for… an extraction. Do you remember what happened?"

Jacob grimaced and forced himself to think through the pain medication. "I woke up in this building."

"A hospital?"

"Sort of. Not public. I think they told me I'd been working a job, but I can't remember. Everything's fuzzy." He turned blue eyes to meet a set of dark brown. "Was I working a job? Hell, Bud's gonna kill me. How bad did I botch it?"

Hank's bushy brows drew together and the corners of his lips dipped low in a frown. "Let's worry about getting you well before we worry about… that, shall we?"

The door behind him slid open and Jacob struggled to see who was making their way in.

"He needs to rest," Hank greeted the person and finally shifted enough for Jacob to see Gina Zanetakos.

"How is he?"

"Confused, just like you said," the doctor murmured very softly, but not so much that Jacob couldn't make the words out.

"I'm right here," he grumbled and Gina's gaze snapped to meet his.

"What happened?" Her tone was strange. Cautious. Like she was waiting for him to take the lead so she knew which direction to lean.

"I don't know."

"You said you lost time."

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"There's a lot you don't know."

"Gina," Hank snapped softly and turned his attention back to Jacob. "What year is it?"

A memory flashed through the fog. "The doctors that were holding me kept asking me the same thing."

Gina crossed her arms across her chest, impatience written in every line of her pretty features. "Did you give them an answer or jerk them around too?"

"'08," Jacob growled, matching her level of irritation, but just like that hers vanished and was replaced with surprise.

"2008?"

"No. Nineteen. Of course two-thousand."

"Jacob, look at me," Hank instructed, but as Jacob did he didn't like the older man's expression. "It's 2017. December."

Even with the firm mattress of the bed beneath him, Jacob felt his world shift. "What?"

"Two-thousand-seventeen," Gina stressed. Hank shot her a warning look.

"No. No… that's not…"

"It's alright," Hank promised, his voice soothing. "We did a pretty thorough exam when you came in, but we'll get to the bottom of this." He reached over to one of the many machines off to the side and Jacob heard a familiar woosh. Great. He'd made it out, made it back to St Regis, but nothing had changed. No answers and medication. Apparently that was everyone's answer to everything, he thought bitterly as he slipped under again.

                                                      --------

"You said there was no sign of head trauma," Gina growled as she blew through the door to her office. McCready's old office. The one she'd taken over after she'd put a bullet in his chest to save Jacob's life. Thankless bastard.

"We're still running tests," Rogers said, his tone holding a calculated level of patience. "Right now he needs rest. If he's staying, that is."

Gina turned and shot him an irritated look. "Find out what happened, how much time he's lost, and if he'll get it back." There was a stretch of silence and she could practically feel the disapproval rolling off of him even if the doctor kept his expression even. He would have made a fair operative if that had been the path he had chosen. He was also one of the only people left on the St Regis campus that survived her restructuring after she had taken McCready's place. He had earned it and he'd proven loyal, but he'd always been much more loyal to the individual operatives in his care than the institute on whole. "What?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Won't you anyway?"

A soft sound might have been a chuckle if not for the frown that had finally broken through. "I see what you're thinking."

"Do you now?"

"And I know how close you two were. I'm sure you've missed him -" she snorted at the statement and he shot her a pointed look - "even if you won't admit it. But Jacob made his choice, even if you and I are the only ones left here that remember it."

"A choice The Major put a price on his head for. Are you suggesting I finish it?"

"I'm suggesting you get word to his wife."

"She's a fed."

"She's his wife. Not a mark, not a job. A woman that, of all people, Jacob Phelps broke ranks for. She must be special."

Gina's gaze swept over him, taking every inch of his expression in. He was good. Careful. He didn't push on things unless he felt it down to his soul. On most days she found a strange sort of respect in that. Not today.

She leaned in, her words enunciated as she spoke. "I don't care."

"And if he remembers?"

"Find out if he will."

"And if he doesn't, what? You'll just keep him here?"

She shrugged, idly picking up a paperweight from her desk. "If he doesn't, he'll make us a lot of money just like he did before."

                                                      --------

Glen Carter was one of the more obnoxious individuals that Red had ever come across. The man riled him up for sport, jerking him around with his pathological lies and wild excuses, but in the end he was still the most talented tracker that Reddington knew.

He had uncovered footage of a man that had parked a block down from the building that Red had been using to keep the Keens safely hidden away. The man had gotten out and moved out of the camera's line of sight, but when he returned he was supporting a familiar figure all the way to the passenger's side.

The camera had only caught one usable angle of their mystery man, Glen had argued, and that's why it had taken time. Even so, nearly two weeks after Tom had managed his messy escape - and Reddington had moved Elizabeth, not willing to risk underestimating him again - Glen had found the location of the man that had picked him up. Not Tom himself, but it was a start.

Brimley was sitting in a chair outside of a closed door when Reddington arrived, breathing deeply from his oxygen tank, and his focus on the task was absolute.

"Has he given you a location yet?"

Brimley took one more long breath before removing the mask from his nose and mouth. "Took some work, but training only takes ya so far. Hit just the right nerve and he sang like my Aunt Myrtle's yellow canary."

"And?" Red pressed, an uncomfortable feeling tightening his chest at the look he received.

"He's ready for you. Switch is on the right."

Reddington gave him a brief, terse nod before moving into the room. It was quiet inside - eerily so - and pitch black so that the light from outside the door flooded in like a tidal wave, leaving the hunched figure in the corner curling in on himself a little more. Reddington reached over without looking, and even he had to wince as the lights snapped on at top voltage.

Their man - Eric Sneider seemed to be the final consensus, though the man appeared to have his pick of names he chose from on a regular basis - yelped at the sudden illumination. It was a wonder. Teddy had had him five hours at the most. How he did it, Red would never know.

Nor did he care right then.

He moved towards the trembling man, his steps slow and deliberate, and he made sure that the legs of the metal chair scraped loudly across the concrete floor as he pulled it towards him and took a seat. "Mr Sneider. Do you know who I am?"

The man finally uncurled just a little from his ball of fear to turn wide, red-rimmed eyes on him. His jaw dropped a little. "You're Raymond Reddington," he managed, a sense of awe in his tone.

"Yes."

"What do you want with me?"

"Tom Keen."

"I… I don't know who that is."

Red tilted his head to the side, considering. No. He wouldn't, would he. "Jacob Phelps then."

Sneider flinched back. "I don't—"

"I would think long and hard before lying to me, Mr Sneider."

"I can't. She'll kill me if I talk. "

"And I'll kill you if you don't, though I'd say I pose the more immediate threat," Red said as he pulled his gun from the holster and placed it on his knee.

"He… called in an extraction."

"Who did he contact? Who sent you?"

"St Regis." The confession was small, whispered and trembling. Reddington sat for a long moment. It made sense. Tom had asked for a phone and wanted to contact the Major several times after the failed memory procedure. And why wouldn't he? His mind was trapped back in 2008. A time long before he'd left the organization. Long before he'd considered it an option.

"That's it. I swear," Sneider half sobbed and Reddington turned his nose up.

"You're going to put me in touch with the person that gave you the order to come for him."

He held the other man's gaze for a long moment before he received a slow nod of confirmation.

                                                      --------

He was going stir crazy. After being drugged into a stupor and held hostage only to break out and make his way back, Hank had all but locked him in the medical ward and demanded bed rest. Jacob had complied, grumbling the whole way, and he certainly would never admit to feeling better for it. The pain had lessened, his strength was coming back in spurts, and even the knife wound in his side that he'd managed to reopen in his escape was finally starting to show real signs of healing. It was slow going - much slower than he was accustomed to - but Hank had reminded him that the body at thirty-three didn't bounce back quite as quickly as one did at twenty-three. Even if he didn't remember getting to those limits, he'd have to respect them if he was going to make a full recovery.

They still didn't know why he was missing time. Hank had put him through a gauntlet of tests and no head trauma was evident. The stab wounds and gunshot to the shoulder seemed to be the worst of it, but hardly explained anything. What was worse, Hank seemed hesitant to give him any details about what he was missing. Jobs taken, injuries dealt out. Jacob has scars from injuries he couldn't remember, and each time he tried to ask the old surgeon about it Hank sidestepped the answer.

That led him to where he was.

Bud's office door stood large and imposing. Operatives didn't just invite themselves over to it, or at least normal operatives. Jacob has never been normal and he'd never been good at waiting for answers. He wrapped his knuckles against the door hard.

There was a stretch of silence before shuffling and finally the door was opened by an irritated Gina from the other side. She stared at him, surprised, and Jacob was pretty sure he had at least one answer. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"What are you doing here? Rogers said you should—"

"Rest. Yeah. Been doing alot of that. You gonna let me in or leave me hanging in the hallway?"

Gina's lips twitched down but she stepped back, clearing the way for him to enter. The room was different. Same desk - damn thing was so large that it might have been more trouble than it was worth to move - but other than that there was nothing left of Bud. From the books to the type of liquor set up on the shelf. He'd been gone a while.

"How long?"

She knew what he was asking. "Best anyone can guess, a couple years."

"How?"

Gina shrugged, turning back to her desk and the files that were piled there. "We don't know. The body has never been found. I went with him for an op he wanted to oversee himself, but he never showed at the rendezvous. There was nothing after that."

"Bud wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

"One he must have lost. It was bound to happen. He had several close calls towards the end. Reddington, the Germans…" She was watching him now, almost like she expected it to jog a memory. Jacob has nothing and she turned back to her paperwork. "Bastard left me to clean everything up."

"Why didn't I help?"

"You do. You will. You've always belonged in the field."

"So do you."

"I've done alright here." She paused, that honey brown gaze sweeping him up and down. "Sit."

"That obvious?" Jacob chuckled, sliding into one of the plusher seats in the room. The walk over to her office had tired him out more than he cared to admit. "I need some answers, Gina."

"I don't know what happened to your memories."

"But you know what job I was working. Maybe if I could retrace my steps I could—"

"Why?"

Jacob blinked hard. "Because I've lost ten years."

"And you may never get them back. Best we can hope for is to get you back to work - back to normal - and who knows? Maybe something will click back into place."

There was something in her tone, in the way she brushed it off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Gina had always barreled ahead. She preferred it to looking back and it was one of the reasons they'd worked so well together for so many years, but it was all those years that he'd known her that made him think something was off.

She stood, drawing his attention, and he knew the look she was wearing. That little half smile and the way she held his gaze. She leaned down, hands on either armrest so that she pinned him into his spot in the chair, and she pressed her lips against his. Like her words, there was something strange about the kiss, but his need to feel something that was familiar won out and he reached up to pull her in deeper. He felt her smile into the kiss, settling down into his lap with one arm shaking behind him.

A loud, sharp ringtone shattered the moment and she let out a frustrated growl as she stood back to her feet. "I have to get that. There's an op in Hong Kong that we need to go well."

"You owe me some stories," Jacob said, his voice rough.

"As soon as I finish with this."

It was a dismissal if he had ever heard one, but as Jacob eased himself out of the chair and towards the door, he focused on the fact that he'd received at least one answer. The others would come… or they wouldn't. At least he'd made it home.

                                                      --------

The phone rang again and again, leaving Reddington to shoot his terrified hostage an exasperated look. If he'd been foolish enough to give him the wrong number, no one would be happy by the end of this.

Then it connected, but no one said a word. Well, she had learned her craft from Bill McCready, and the man had always been a fan of having more information than he gave away. Ah well. Reddington had found confidence often made up for what he lacked in concrete information.

"Gina. Raymond Reddington. I hear you found someone I'm looking for."

There was another bout of silence before a snort that might have been a laugh. "So that's where Sneider went."

"It is."

He could almost hear her lean back against some oversized desk and do everything she could to show a man that couldn't see her just how unruffled she really was. "What do you want?"

"A truce."

"I'm not at war with you."

"No, but your former employer was deeply in my debt. So often when a parent dies the children are saddled with all the promises that they couldn't fulfill."

"I'm doing just fine."

"So I hear. Old and new ops alike flourishing and intel coming in from all over the world, I'd imagine, but you and I both know that you will makethe operative of your choosing if I hire them."

"And in return you want Jacob?" she chuckled. "The highest earning operative that this organization has ever had… for what? One job? Anyone can see it's a bad business deal."

Red felt the small muscles in his cheek twitch with irritation. "You may try to make this about the money, Gina, but we are both well aware that it's not. It's the same reason that you took the fall for him in the Angel Station assassination, the same reason you hired him on when he came running to you after Bill put out a burn notice, and the same reason you put a bullet in McCready just a few weeks later: you can't let him go."

"He came back."

"Because he can't remember what he has here."

"And you think you can fix that? Give your pet fed her precious Tom Keen back?"

"I have the resources. The connections to give him a chance. If you truly care for him, Gina, you'll give me the chance to try."

There was a long, tense moment before: "He's made his choice."

And that was it. The line went dead and Reddington was left holding the phone, the truth oppressively heavy in the air around him. Tom was gone. Even with all of his resources, he needed Gina's help now that the younger man was hidden behind St Regis' wall of protection and she had made it clear that he wouldn't get that help.

"What are you going to tell Elizabeth when she wakes up?" Dembe asked softly from behind as Reddington snapped the flip phone shut with more force than was warranted.

"The truth," he breathed after a moment. "Her husband is dead."

                                                      --------

TBC

Notes: And so it's set. We're about to jump ahead to present day (aka, just after the S7 finale) in the next chapter and things are about to start ramping up. I hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know :D

Next Time: An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

[cinnaminsvga]

intermission • iv | eclipse

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. sera) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: sfw other than some ugly jealousy c/o a snake → words: 4.9K → a/n: sera didn’t always use to be a shitty person. well, that’s a lie. she was always a shitty person. she just used to be able to hide it well.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iv | next • —

–– the first day of freshman year ––

The line for the free freshman orientation merchandise is longer than Sera had anticipated, even though she had arrived almost an entire hour early. Though most people would have dismissed the lengthy queue, Sera is Asian as Asian could get, her genes forbidding her from skipping over free shit when free shit can be received. She is sure her ancestors would never forgive her if she allowed this opportunity to slip through her fingers. And so, Sera waits with the rest of the cattle as the line shortens slowly, the heat of the early sun reminiscent of the summer months that should have already passed.

After sweating her body’s weight worth of sweat, she finally finds herself near the front of the line, foot tapping impatiently as the rowdy bunch of newly hatched boylings before her fought amongst themselves for the canvas knapsacks over the pink water bottles. Fragile masculinity at its finest, Sera thinks, as she watches with something akin to pity as the runt of the litter ends up with the “girlier” merchandise in the end.

At this point, all the better free items have mostly run out, though Sera wouldn’t mind getting the university emblem encrusted notepad and pen set. It is only a matter of moral principle when she gets the water bottle after seeing the boy from before shooting her with a desperate look, probably hoping to trade items with her if she had gotten something else. Sadistic pleasure courses through her veins when she sees the light fade from his eyes, the inevitability of his pink water bottle fate permanently sealed.

Puny boy. Drink your nasty energy drinks from your pink tinted bottle for all she cares. She’ll be doing the same, at least.

Free from that slow torture, Sera now has to subject herself to more agonizing torment by waiting for the rest of her orientation group members to arrive, most of whom should have gotten to the intended meeting location by now. She observes as her harried orientation leader tries unsuccessfully to get your small group to interact with one another, his fake cheery smile looking more strained as the apathetic faces of sleep-deprived freshmen fail to respond to his forced banter.

Her orientation leader, whose name she cannot recall for the life of her but will call “Mike” from now on, coughs awkwardly into his spotted handkerchief before dabbing his sweating forehead. Sera grimaces when she notices that a small glob of snot remains stuck to his skin where he had touched, though no one seems obliged to alert him of this fact. He glances at his watch, jumping from one foot to the other, as he does another headcount for the third time in the last ten minutes.

“7… 8… 9…” His finger hovers when it reaches the last person, his brow turned downwards in worry. The glob of snot dangles ever precariously from its perch. “Umm… Does anyone know where the last person is? We’re supposed to be ten, and the first part of our agenda is starting soon.”

Sera wonders why on earth he’s asking that as if they were supposed to be friends with one another. The university had forced everyone to make a group chat with their orientation groupmates a week ago, which was honestly a lost cause considering that everyone was randomly sorted into groups. Sera’s group chat only has two messages so far, with both being from the orientation leader himself. Out of ten people, only two of them have seen the messages, with Sera being one of them.

If that’s an indicator of how today is going to be, then Sera should have poured some shots into her kombucha like a sane person would have.

“Maybe you should try calling her?” One of the girls in her group says, her gaze never leaving her phone as she types rapidly, her dexterity astonishing despite her inch-long acrylic nails. Mike, on the other hand, stares forlornly at the black screen of his phone.

“No can do. My phone died a few minutes ago when I was in the middle of calling my mom. I guess I was too excited when I was telling her about today’s orientation day.” He laughs half-heartedly at that, and Sera might’ve felt a little bad for the guy if his phone didn’t have a keychain of an anime girl with big ol’ dobonhokeros. The only thing missing from his outfit is a big backdrop of his mom’s basement behind him to complete his look.

Mike looks around the group expectantly, obviously trying to catch the eye of one of you. Everyone’s heads bow down immediately, sensing that some effort and participation are about to be required from one of them. Nothing gets tired teens to disappear into the ground quicker than being asked to volunteer for anything that needed 0.01% of their brainpower. Unluckily for Sera, she is a bit too slow in her response, immediately locking gazes with Mike as a grin stretches on his face.

“Sera! You must know Y/N, right? I saw that you and Y/N had opened the group chat the other day. Why don’t you try calling her?” He says brightly, no signs of his depression from earlier. Two boys in Supreme hoodies snicker loudly at Sera’s dismayed face, and she vows to “accidentally” stomp on their pristine white sneakers later with her muddied old trainers.

“Um. Alright,” she agrees through gritted teeth, pulling out her phone with a heavy hand. Sera wonders if you’ll even take the call, possibly wary of answering an unknown number. Her pondering only lasts a second when you answer the call on the first ring, your heavy breaths being the first sound that greets Sera’s ears.

“I’m lost! I can’t find the soccer field! I’m running as fast as I can,” is your jumbled reply, followed by a screech on your end and what sounds like a honking car in the distance. “Sorry!” you call out immediately afterwards, and Sera hazards a guess that you were only two inches away from being roadkill.

“Yeah, this is Sera, one of your orientation groupmates. Mik–I mean, our orientation leader is wondering where you are.”

“I’m–” There is a pause, and Sera thinks for a moment that you might have dropped the call by accident or something. Then, you reply shakily, sniffling slightly. “I… I don’t know??? Help???”

What is it with today? Sera is meeting more people than she would like, and all of them seem to be the human equivalent of a cry for help. Surely, this is a test from above? However, there is something endearingly pitiful about your quiet sobs that makes her want to help you a little bit. She is never one to offer her services so freely to any stranger, but then again… She could become friends with you if you weren’t such a crybaby all the time.

“Describe where you are. I’ll try to come get you,” she says, not missing the way you gasp at her generosity. A feeling of pride settles into her chest, not disliking the way you must be so grateful for her benevolence. She should do this more often.

“Will you really? Oh my god, thank you!” you say giddily. You are quick to describe your surroundings, and luckily, Sera knows exactly where you are. The good thing about being a perfectionist is that Sera loves to over-prepare, so she already did her own tour of the campus before orientation day. In hindsight, she wonders why she even bothered to attend when she could handle herself perfectly. Oh right, the free stuff.

“Okay, hold tight. Be there in a bit,” she says before hanging up the phone. Sera turns back to Mike, who looks awfully smug for being as inept as he is. He begins to gather the rest of the group together, addressing all of them loudly.

“Thanks to the lovely Sera, our last member will join us shortly. In the meantime, we’ll head to the auditorium for the first event of the day while Sera finds Y/N!”

Wait– “You’re leaving me?” Sera shouts, jaw agape. Isn’t he supposed to be in charge? Whatever happened to teamwork and all that shit he was spouting literally ten minutes ago? Yet, here he was. All Mike the Mighty Ass does is shrug his shoulders, patting her impetuously on the back.

“We’re not leaving you! The auditorium is just over there,” Mike points to the imposing domed stadium just across the field. “And we’ll be seated right at the front, so just look for us there!”

“That stadium has a 7000 person capacity. How the hell am I supposed to–”

Sera doesn’t get to finish her sentiment as Mike raises his gaudy orange flag high up into the sky, signaling the rest of the group to follow his lead. None of the little shits even bat an eye as they quickly leave Sera in the dust to look for you.

As Sera gawks at the rapidly emptying field, she surmises that no number of free water bottle could ever amount to the trauma that the past few hours have inflicted on her. You better kiss the ground that she walks on when she finds you, or else there will be consequences to pay.

Finding you is easier said than done. Sera is sure she knew where you were from your descriptions, though there is a possibility that she might have overestimated herself. Either that or your explanation had been vague at best.

“‘In front of the weird blue houses,' she said,” Sera mutters to herself, looking up at the only blue-painted buildings in sight. She supposes that “weird” is subjective, as the houses appear quaint as can be, though maybe you had found the little garden gnomes at the front to be a bit disconcerting. Regardless, there seems to be no other person in sight, unless the crotchety old man in the wheelchair might be you.

She is just about to call you again when a person with twigs in their hair comes running down the sidewalk, their backpack thumping harshly against their back with every step they take. They are waving their hands wildly in the air, a large grin on their face as they struggle to slow down their momentum before inevitably tumbling into Sera’s slight body.

She found you.

“Ooph!” Sera groans, barely holding onto her senses as she tries her best to keep both of you upright. “What the fuck? Where were you?”

“Sorry, sorry!” You apologize repeatedly, swatting away bits of leaves from your hair that consequently fall onto Sera’s sweater. “I got a bit distracted by this dude at a hair salon and I had to make a run for it–”

“Whatever,” Sera interrupts, tugging you by the elbow and back to where the orientation is being held. “Let’s just get out of here before we miss out on the stupid orientation.”

You stumble a bit as you follow after her quick strides, having to hobble a little to catch up. You tilt your head curiously at your surroundings, not recognizing any of the landmarks at all. “Uh. You sure we’re going the right way? All these buildings look weird…”

“Says the chick who couldn’t even find the soccer field.” Sera snorts, continuing to walk with determination. “If you’re going to ogle at every ‘weird’ building we pass, then it’ll take us years to get there. Hurry up!”

After taking a few wrong turns and reaching two deadends, it is only then Sera admits that she might have forgotten the way back. It’s not her fault; she’s only been on campus for a few hours before. To your credit, you don’t seem all that disheartened as she had expected, unlike how distressed you had sounded on the phone earlier. In fact, you are skipping happily along beside her, pausing every often to take a few pictures of the dormitories and lecture buildings like a tourist.

“It’s like this is the first time that you’ve ever seen a building,” Sera jokes, taking a seat on a bench as she watches you frolic around a water fountain. You strike a weird post at her, smiling radiantly with your teeth showing.

“It’s because I only just moved here! I was late because I was busy unpacking my stuff in my dorm room,” you explain, straightening up into a more dignified posture before going to sit beside her.

Sera looks at you curiously. “Oh? You’re living on res? Are you from out of town?”

You shake your head. “Nah. My mom and I live pretty far off though, and I’d prefer not to take a commute in the morning. It’s chill though; I’m sharing a room with this dude I used to go to high school with.”

“They have co-gendered dorm rooms here?” Sera’s interest is piqued, and you are quick to notice it. You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

“Uh, kind of? We’re like childhood friends and his mom is really close with the residence dean, so she asked if we could room together, just for the first year. She doesn’t really trust him with strangers. He’s really shy, so he’s uncomfortable rooming with someone he doesn’t know.”

“So, you guys aren’t, like, dating or..?”

“Me? Dating Jungkook? Oh God, that’s funny!” You laugh, slapping your knee. The more you think about it, the more ridiculous the idea is. “He’s like a bro to me! I would never date him.”

Sera smiles, a seed of an idea being planted in her brain. She stores it for later, but for now, she asks “Oh? So you’d be fine with introducing him to me sometime? I’d love to meet new people.”

“Sure, dude. He’s really introverted, so I doubt you’ll get too much out of him,” you hum. You close your eyes, enjoying the way the breeze gently caresses your face as Sera observes you from the sidelines.

Interesting, she thinks. She’ll definitely hang around you more. You are not as annoying as she had originally thought, and maybe it would be nice to have a friend to hang out with in between classes. Unassuming, overly excitable, naive… You’re just an innocent puppy, who will follow anyone who pets it. Easy enough; Sera can afford to accommodate you.

Sera smirks, allowing herself to enjoy the breeze as well. University might not be so bad after all.

A few months pass, and being friends with you isn’t as tedious as Sera had feared. In fact, you are a pretty chill person, someone whom Sera never needs to pretend to save face around. To you, her little mean streaks are nothing but little “quirks,” and you often wave them off as silly parts of her personality. Most of the time, the things Sera says are just that: jokes. More often than not, however, Sera has just grown comfortable around you to let her filter run a little loose, letting her goofier and bitchier side come out more easily.

Call it naivety or stupidity, but Sera is thankful to have you around.

Nevertheless, there are still some small moments when that thankfulness falls a little short. Take, for example:

“That TA is totally a bitch! She gave me an 80 on that essay only because her ex-boyfriend hit me up on Instagram. It’s not my fault that her boobs sag all the way to her hips!” Sera exclaims a little too loudly, and you have to silence her through stilted giggles as the two of you pass by the aforementioned TA.

“Marina isn’t that petty,” you say, though your defense is a little too lackluster to be effective. In fact, you’ve been a bit spacey all afternoon, not really present in most of your conversations together. You exit the lecture hall, walking to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Sera has to pull you out of the way of two speeding bicycles before she thinks to ask you what’s up.

“Huh?” You mumble back, still smiling dopily at nothing. You’ve always been the type to get lost in your head, which is hilarious to Sera, given that your current debilitating crush is on none other than the most air-headed boy on campus. She supposes there is a certain appeal for opposite personalities, though it is funny that out of all the men on campus, you had to choose the heart-on for none other than–

“I was asking you what’s up with you,” Sera repeats, tutting as the two of you arrive at the cafeteria with no further casualties. “Seriously, it’s like your head is in your ass. Don’t tell me you finally got dicked down in the janitor’s closet and you’re basking in the afterglow.”

Sera’s crude comment is what finally gets you to snap out of it. “Hell no, you sex fiend!” You hiss, cheeks reddening at the jab. “Are you ever going to let that go? I told you that fantasy in confidence!”

“My lips are as loose as my pussy, my dude. You should know by now.” Sera says plainly, directing the two of you to one of the sushi joints. You don’t even protest Sera’s choice like you ordinarily would, as you have previously gotten intense food poisoning from one of their sashimi platters a week back. You must really be overthinking something then.

“I know. I’m just saying shit right now,” you say, pulling up a chair and plopping down. You fiddle with the soy sauce bottle contemplatively. “I’m spacing out because I’ve been thinking about the essay we just got back.”

“Oh?” Sera says, eyebrows lifting at that. She pulls out the menu, taking charge for the two of you as you have never quite mastered the art of choosing what food to get. Also, you’re scared of flagging down waiters, for whatever reason. “Did you also get saggy tits as your TA? I’m still mad about that B+, by the way.”

“That’s the thing,” you pause, accidentally flipping open the soy sauce bottle’s cap and spraying yourself with drops of the dark liquid. Neither of you even flinch when it happens, so used to catastrophes happening when it comes to you. You’re like a walking disaster magnet, and Sera has no idea why karma hates you so much. It’s a miracle that you’re alive, sometimes.

So it does come as a huge surprise to her when you follow up by saying, “She gave me an A+.”

The menu drops out of Sera’s hand. “What?” she nearly screeches, scaring the waiter who had been idly standing by your table. You point an apologetic glance at him as he scurries as far away from the two of you as possible, but Sera is undeterred. The words that had come out of your mouth makes no sense whatsoever.

“But… Marina literally gives no one higher than an A! I’ve got sources from upper years saying that she’s a beast when she grades – there must have been a mistake!” Sera says, not bothering to be polite.

You shrug, looking just as confused. “I thought so too. I was going to talk to her after class a while ago, but thought better of it and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth… Better to accept it than question it, right?”

Sera hums, not wanting to admit that it was irking her that you didn’t ask the TA about it. Her annoyance is unwarranted, however, because she would’ve done the same. Why argue over a blessing? Still, it pains her to know that you got a higher grade than she did, even though you are taking the writing course as an elective, while Sera is a writing major herself.

The two of you enjoy your meal as if nothing had happened, and that is the first time in a long while since Sera has needed to put a façade around you.

In the next coming sessions, Sera and you begin to realize that the A+ had not been a fluke as you consistently continue to ace the quizzes and assignments for your creative writing course. Your professor has been badgering you to consider switching courses for a week now, and you’ve politely declined each and every time.

“Music is just more my thing, you see,” you explain to him, bowing quickly as you exit out of the room to escape another ten minutes of his incessant pleading.

It’s really starting to grate Sera’s gears a little bit.

The thing is, Sera knows she is being petty. It’s not even a new occurrence for her, as she has been known to ditch people once they start being better at her in anything.

Gymnastics in 4th grade had been a bust when star athlete Jinyoung Choi discovered her flexibility during PE. Mathematics had gone down the drain once Abegail Sun had won the Mathlete Competition for the third time in a row. Writing should have been Sera’s only crowning achievement, as she had always grown up with people around her praising her ability to weave universes with her words.

She can’t share that spotlight, not when she’s been pushed into the shadows numerous times already. This time, she’s not going down without a fight.

The worst part about the whole situation isn’t even that you were like a baby waiting for their candy to be stolen. With Sera’s connections and sly tendencies, it wouldn’t be hard to crush you where you stood. She’s only done it once back in high school, stripped someone of their confidence so savagely that they were forced to move to another school. She is sure she could do it again, but for whatever reason, it feels like it would be too easy of a win.

The worst part is that you didn’t even want the limelight, the success. Creative writing is just a hobby for you, and you certainly don’t deserve the recognition at all. Effort should be awarded its due, and you have certainly never exerted more than a pinky finger’s worth in your entire writing career.

The final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, which pushed Sera past the point of reason, comes much later than anyone might have guessed. Sera’s patience is like plastic, sometimes durable and heat resistant, but oftentimes flimsy and tearable. It does not take a genius to figure out that all plastic must melt, one way or another.

Second-year comes, and Sera has all but allowed her simmering hatred to remain as just that: simmering. She is careful never to let it boil over, fearful of letting you see her break in the event that you would retaliate. Her problem is that she had allowed you to grow, forgetting to stomp on your confidence every so often so that you would be forced to depend on her. Now, you have amassed a sizeable following for your writing online, and Sera knows that you could use that power against her if you pleased. Cancel culture can be like the plague, and Sera knows the ins and outs of it better than anyone else.

Sera knows logically that you would never do that to her, as much as you would like to. Your morals restrain you from doing so, which saves Sera from some anxiety of backlash at least. Still, she has to remain careful anyway.

The two of you do not see each other as often as you once did during your first year. As sophomores, your majors require you to take more courses specialized towards your degree, meaning the general education courses that you shared were no longer required. The only time you ever saw Sera is during Creative Writing and the occasional lunch out in between classes.

Despite that, Sera just can’t get away from you, no matter how hard she tries. Your presence is everywhere: on the university newspaper, on the university forums, on club recruitment posters – hell, she thinks she sees some dude wearing a t-shirt with your face and Jungkook’s face printed on the front or something. Worst of all, she hears about you all the time, from her stupid professors who can’t stop waxing poetic about you. Case in point:

“Professor, may I speak to you?” Sera approaches Professor Puth at the front of his podium once class ends, whiffs of musky marijuana hovering around him like a cloud. You give Sera a confused look, about to ask what she wants to ask before she waves you off, urging you to go ahead.

“I’ll see you next Thursday. I got a tutorial right after this,” Sera lies smoothly, poised grin in place. Not really one to question her, you shrug your shoulders, waving both her and your professor goodbye.

“So,” Professor Puth says, peering at Sera. “Sera, right?”

Sera beams at him. “Yes, Professor. Glad you remember me.”

He hums thoughtfully, tongue jutting out as he appraises her with eyes sharper than any stoned person would have. “Yes, of course. What did you want to talk about?”

“You see, I got my assessment draft back this morning, and it says I got a C+ on it, but I’m sure I followed the rubric very carefully. Are you sure there wasn’t a mistake?” Sera says, not a hitch in her voice despite her outrage slowly starting boil over the edge. She’s never felt so humiliated in her life, having to beg like a dog for a regrade like some sort of pitiful loser.

“You might want to ask the TAs about regrading, in that case. I only graded a few of the works. Which one was yours about?”

“The poem about the withering tree, Professor.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that one. I was the one who graded it,” Professor Puth says, rubbing his chin. He tilts his head. “What did you want to ask about it?”

Sera stares at him, disbelief coloring every inch of her face. “Um, I just said… I wanted to ask – I followed the rubric and everything, so how come my grade was…” she trails off, embarrassed.

Professor Puth tuts, swiveling away to approach his desk. Sera follows, unsure for the first time in her life, as he starts rearranging his things to pack up. “Sera, I can e-mail the rubric to you again, if you want. I assure you, there is one essential part of the grading scheme that you forgot, and I’m afraid that is what cost your grade.”

Sera thinks. “Was it… the formatting?”

He barks out a laugh, slamming his papers down as if what she had just said was the funniest thing he’s heard since a Yo Mama joke. “No, of course not. It was the content! The emotion! You cannot just string highfalutin words together and expect the reader to feel moved.”

Sera flinches, offended. “I think those aspects of poetry are very subjective, Professor. Surely, you could ask for a second opinion–”

“I always ask for second opinions when grading assignments,” he says, wagging a finger. “We all agreed that your work was at least a C+, though I had originally graded it a C- at best.”

Once again, for the first time in her life, Sera is at a loss for words. Never has she been so casually humiliated before, especially after all the time she has put in to being nothing but a stellar student for all her professors. This must be some sort of bad dream.

“On the other hand,” he continues, pausing in his packing to stare at Sera. She does not feel like he is truly looking at her; rather, he looks to be lost in thought about something else entirely. “That friend of yours… Miss Y/N, right? I’ve always heard about her from my colleagues.”

The mention of your name causes the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle, and Sera goes defensive immediately. “What about her?” she cautions.

“Oh, just that she’s a wonderful writer. Very moving stories with lots of depth. I was a bit skeptical at first because Professor Whitney has always been a bit of a softie with freshmen… but she was right,” he nods to himself, a small smirk on his face. “That girl… I don’t doubt in the slightest that she could make someone fall in love with her just by writing them a piece.”

The comparison might have hurt less if he had used a different example, anyone else really. Some unknown sap that Sera could tear piece by piece without a shred of remorse, made easier by the fact that she did not have to know and care for them. You, on the other hand…

It has always been you. She rues the day she met you, when she had thought you were nothing but a meek little puppy to play with, not knowing that you had a hidden dagger behind your back. How foolish of her to let her guard down, and it makes her even angrier to think that you had no idea of the pain you have inadvertently caused her. No, she will make you understand her pain, her struggle. It is only right and just.

All she had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike and until then… It should be easy to keep up this charade. She has done it for more than a year, and she can do it for another ten. She has been doing it all her life, in fact.

When that day comes, she’ll be ready, and there’s nothing you can do but watch as she burns your whole world to the ground.

[artificialqueens]

In Sickness and In Health (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: Brooke gets sick and ends up in the hospital. Luckily Vanessa is always there to keep her together. 

This is just a little sick fic I’ve had in progress and decided to finish to work through some writer’s block and hopefully get some writing inspiration. It’s fluffy with some mild angst, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave feedback if you’d like, it always means a lot to me! Thank you Writ for betaing and all your encouragement!

*There is hospitalization and mild medical talk. It’s not graphic, but do be cautious*

—

Vanessa wakes when the sun slips through the curtains, rolling over to bury her face in Brooke’s neck. For two years now she’s been waking up next to Brooke and each morning still feels like that first one, body bursting with tenderness and love Vanessa knew she’d have forever, even after just one night.

“Saturday morning pancake time!” Vanessa nudges Brooke’s side and she winces, covering it up with a loud groan.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa’s trying not to worry, but Brooke hadn’t hidden that pain as well as she thought, and she just can’t help it.

“I’m just not really hungry for pancakes,” Brooke says quietly.

“You didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday either,” Vanessa adds, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“My stomach’s a little off, I guess.”

“Is there anything you are hungry for?” she tries.

“Toast, maybe?”

Vanessa leads Brooke out of bed and seats her at the table, setting a plate of toast in front of her a few minutes later. She watches with intense eyes as Brooke takes two bites and sips at a glass of water.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to watch me like I’m a baby,” she insists when she sees Vanessa staring. Brooke hates to be fussed over, and Vanessa tries to be more discreet the rest of the day, as she keeps her eye on Brooke, watching her act less and less like herself. They go to the farmer’s market and Brooke doesn’t eat the strawberries right out of the container like she always does, her normally graceful walk slow and hunched slightly, and has nothing but a cup of tea for lunch even though it’s her favorite cafe.

She shoots Nina a text with Brooke’s symptoms, needing someone reasonable. Nina is a fellow kindergarten teacher and one of Vanessa’s best friends at work, and she commands Vanessa and Brooke to come over for dinner once a month because she loves them so much. The reply makes her legs quiver: My niece had something similar. Ended up being her appendix. If she’s still sick Monday, you might want to get her to a doctor. Though I know that’ll be hard with how stubborn Brooke is.

By the time she checks Brooke for a fever that night, the worry is like a block of cement in her chest.

“You feel kinda warm,” Vanessa says as Brooke bats her hand away from her forehead.

“I’m fine.”

Vanessa sighs. “Brooke, you haven’t eaten in two days and your stomach still hurts. You been wincing all day, don’t think I can’t see it. And I’m pretty sure you have a fever. If you’re not better by Monday, you’re going to the hospital, and I don’t want to hear a single argument, Mary.”

Brooke holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay. But I’m not sick. It’s just a little stomach ache. I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

—

It’s just past 6am Sunday morning when the sound of someone throwing up wakes Vanessa from her sleep, and she rushes to the bathroom, Brooke kneeling on the floor by the toilet.

“Brooke, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she groans, flushing the toilet. “Nothing in me to throw up, really.”

Vanessa hands her a cup of water and sits on the floor next to her, stroking Brooke’s long hair. Brooke’s skin is always fair but she’s white as a sheet now, with purple circling her eyes. She’s going to the hospital, no matter what Vanessa has to do to get her there.

Brooke swishes the water around and spits back in the toilet rather than the sink, and Vanessa thinks it’s because she’s too weak to stand.

“Your stomach still hurts?”

“It’s not that bad.”

Brooke is still denying it, but it doesn’t escape Vanessa that she’s gone from ‘I’m fine’ to ‘It’s not that bad’. That’s about as close to an admission of illness that she’ll get from Brooke, and Vanessa rests a hand on her forehead again. It’s not burning hot but it’s warmer than last night, and her hand comes back sticky with sweat. Brooke hasn’t even swatted at her, another sign of how sick she must be.

“You’re warmer now, I think,” Vanessa says gently. “You’ve been like this since Friday and I don’t think you’re getting any better. Will you let me take you to the ER? Please?”

“Okay.” Brooke caves softly, and Vanessa worries more than ever as she speeds to the hospital.

—-

The next few hours are a whirlwind. They spend about 15 minutes with a doctor in one of the exam rooms before Brooke is admitted with a likely case of appendicitis and set up in a hospital bed, nurses in and out drawing blood samples, placing thermometers in her mouth, inserting an IV in her arm, sometimes taking Brooke away for more tests. The doctor orders some sort of scan and a nurse tells Brooke to drink two jumbo Styrofoam cups of something that Brooke grumbles tastes like chalk, grimacing with each sip.

Vanessa just sits in the hard plastic chair next to Brooke’s bed, giving her encouraging smiles that aren’t working. All Vanessa can do is watch as Brooke flinches each time her IV gets caught, her hand clutching at her side when she moves wrong. It must suck to be in that bed but it sucks just as much to be in the chair next to it, watching Brooke suffer and being unable to do a thing to help her. Vanessa would take her place in an instant.

She’s trying to stay calm for Brooke’s sake, but her wife looking so small and fragile in a hospital bed is one of the scariest things Vanessa’s ever seen in her life. Brooke never gets sick. She hasn’t had anything worse than a cold in the two years they’ve been married, and hated every second of them; hated having people fuss over her and act like she was weak. Vanessa, on the other hand, caught every virus known to the world from her kindergarteners and didn’t mind having Brooke cover her in blankets and make her soup. Vanessa’s never been the caretaker before, and she’s not sure how much longer she can keep this up.

“It’s freezing in here,” Brooke complains, pulling the blanket up high over her thin hospital gown, grimacing as it tugs on her IV.

It is cold in the room, cold enough that Vanessa can’t just blame it on Brooke’s fever.

“Here.” She takes off her coat and lays it on top of Brooke’s shivering body, met with immediate protests that she shuts down just as fast.

“How did I even get sick in the first place? I shouldn’t be sick. Do you think I did something to my appendix? What if–”

Leave it to Brooke to blame herself for being in the hospital. “Brooke, you didn’t do anything. Something like this is totally beyond your control, there’s nothing you could have done to cause it,” Vanessa soothes. “And besides, we don’t even know for sure that’s what it is.”

“Well, based on Google, I’m pretty convinced, but if I had my phone back–”

“You’re not getting it back.”

“Please? I’m so bored.” Brooke whines, her pout so pitiful Vanessa almost caves. But the whole reason she took it is so Brooke can’t type her symptoms into WebMD and convince herself she’s dying, and Vanessa holds firm even though it physically pains her.

“How much longer am I gonna be stuck here?” Brooke taps her fingers impatiently on the bed rail.

It’s not even 10am yet, but it feels like they’ve been through an entire day, with no idea of how much longer this will go on. Brooke is restless in the bed, wringing her hands, flicking through TV channels and not watching a single one, fiddling with her hospital bracelet. She keeps touching the empty space on her ring finger, the ring currently in Vanessa’s purse since it had to be removed for the scan. She’d give it back to Brooke to comfort her and maybe help her relax a little, but what’s the point? It’d probably have to come off again eventually, and she doesn’t think anything could relax her wife right now. Brooke is color-coded schedules and careful planning, her days laid out in detail, from meetings at work to shopping trips and dinner dates with Vanessa. She likes preparation, knowing exactly how her day will go. Being trapped in a hospital bed, not knowing how long she’ll be stuck there, how long until a nurse gets her for another test or tells her what’s wrong, must be one of the worst things in the world for her.

“I know, baby, but we just gotta wait.”

Brooke heaves a loud sigh, followed by a wince. “I don’t want to be here! I hate this! I hate this stupid bed and I can’t even move without this stupid IV digging in my arm and I had to drink a gallon of fucking melted chalk for that CT scan and they still won’t even say what’s wrong with me and my stomach hurts, Ness.”

The outburst scares her just as much as it breaks her heart. Vanessa has noticed Brooke slowly losing her grip over the past three hours, but it doesn’t mean she’s any more prepared when she finally crumbles. Brooke has always been her rock, keeping them focused with her schedules, doing the grocery shopping when Vanessa forgets, taking the day off work just to help Vanessa decorate her classroom every year. It was Brooke who Vanessa would cling to when she was stressed and having a shitty day, Brooke who would give her a massage and listen to her rants. Even during Brooke’s times of insecurity where she was up all night stressing over case notes, worrying that she wasn’t good enough, she’s never fallen apart quite like this, and Vanessa knows she’ll have to weather the storm to keep Brooke whole.

She loosens the deathgrip Brooke has on the railing and rubs her thumb over the back of Brooke’s hand in soothing circles. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this together, okay?”

Brooke gives a weak nod.

“Why didn’t you say the pain got worse?”

Brooke just shrugs. “Didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Oh, fuck her Canadian politeness. Vanessa takes a breath. “Okay, first of all, you’re not bothering anyone. You gotta say when you need something. Now how about I call the nurse and have her bring you some more painkillers?”

Brooke nods again.

A minute later a nurse injects something in Brooke’s IV, saying that the test results should be coming soon, and Brooke’s shoulders lose some of their tightness, the pinched lines that had taken over her features smoothing out. She keeps frowning at her missing wedding ring, but she does nod along as Vanessa talks to distract her, telling her stories about what the kids in her class got up to last week. Brooke even manages a smile that is erased the second the doctor walks in.

The doctor is talking, telling them it’s appendicitis and they have Brooke scheduled for surgery in an hour; the surgery is some laparo-something mumbo-jumbo, it’s minimally invasive and the recovery is so quick Brooke can probably go home tomorrow.

Vanessa’s trying to listen, she really is, but the second the word surgery comes out Brooke’s face falls, and Vanessa can see the wheels spinning in Brooke’s mind as she spirals.

The doctor says the nurses and the surgeon will be in soon to go over some information, and then she leaves, Brooke’s breaths turning to shallow pants.

“Brooke–” Vanessa begins.

“I don’t want surgery,” Brooke huffs.

“Br–”

“Ness, please, I just wanna go home.” Her voice is small, barely more than a whisper, and Vanessa would rip her out of the bed and take her home right this second if she didn’t know Brooke needed to be in the hospital.

She’s scared, Vanessa realizes as her heart shatters. For all the cool confidence Brooke projects at her law firm, all the men she makes quiver with a single glance, Brooke’s never been sick like this, never even been hospitalized before. Vanessa squeezes her hand, trying to find the right words to soothe Brooke and keep her together. She’s talked several kindergarteners down from temper tantrums in her day, and while she knows Brooke would protest at being compared to a five-year-old, the calming process is roughly the same.

“I know you wanna go home, honey, I know. But you need to stay here and have the surgery to make you feel better, okay? And then once you’re better, we’ll go home and we can lay on the couch and watch anything you want. Even them scary-ass murder shows.”

Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa thinks it worked, but then more comes pouring out of Brooke as she lifts her head up from the bed.

“But what if something goes wrong, what if it’s more serious than they think and they can’t fix it, what if-”

“Shh,” she whispers, stroking Brooke’s hair with her other hand. “You’re gonna be fine. They do this shit like a hundred times a day. It’s no big deal. The doctor said it’s quick and you can probably go home tomorrow. It’s gonna be okay.”

Brooke bites her lip and Vanessa thinks she might protest, but her eyes search Vanessa’s, see the love reflected there, and Brooke settles back against the pillows. “Okay.”

Vanessa climbs up into Brooke’s bed, turning on her side, careful to avoid her abdomen. “I ain’t giving you your phone, but how about we watch cat videos on mine?”

Brooke smiles in agreement. The two of them are still huddled together, watching a cat play the piano, when nurses arrive to take Brooke down for the surgery.

“Ness,” she pleads, hand flailing around, breaths coming in quick pants, as the nurses start moving the bed.

Vanessa’s starting to worry too despite how relaxed she’s been for the past four hours, and she digs for the last ounces of calm within her.

She takes Brooke’s hand and squeezes it tight. “You’re okay, Brooke. You’re gonna be fine. It’s gonna be over really quick, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Brooke asks nervously.

“I promise.” She twirls her pinky around Brooke’s larger one, bending down to kiss Brooke’s forehead.

The nurses take Brooke away, speaking calmly to her as they move down the hall, one staying behind to take Vanessa to the waiting room, where she finally, finally, loses her calm.

She paces back and forth across the waiting room rug so fast she makes herself dizzy. Her phone buzzes with a text from Nina, who Vanessa has been updating the past few hours.

Brooke will be fine. She’s tough as nails. Try to stay calm. Don’t forget to drink and eat something too.

She knows Nina is right, that she doesn’t need to worry about Brooke. Brooke has made her way to the top of her law firm over men who constantly wanted to bring her down, has spoken at meetings where she was the only woman in the room. Brooke told Vanessa she once did a dance performance with a broken toe as a teenager. She has no doubt in her mind Brooke will come out of this just fine and recover even faster than expected. She knows it’s a routine procedure, that there’s probably nothing to worry about.

But still.

How can she sit down and relax or eat anything when Brooke is behind those doors, all alone in a sea of scrubs and monitors, having her skin cut open?

Vanessa sits down in another uncomfortable chair because she might start crying soon. She spins her wedding band and engagement ring around her finger, thinking of how Brooke had proposed on her birthday and Vanessa was so surprised it took her a few seconds to throw herself at Brooke and say yes.

She wants Brooke back now. Neither of them did well when they were apart. Vanessa had gone to a teachers’ conference last year and was unable to sleep in her plush hotel bed that was just too empty, coming home to see Brooke with deep bags beneath bloodshot eyes as she admitted that she couldn’t sleep without Vanessa kicking her in the middle of the night.

She checks the time. It’s only been 15 minutes. The doctor said the surgery would take about an hour and then they’d bring Brooke to the recovery room for the anesthesia to wear off before Vanessa could see her. Vanessa hates that she won’t be there when Brooke first wakes up, but the doctor said Brooke would be very sleepy and disoriented and might not even remember the recovery room.

She gets another text from Nina suggesting that she visit the gift shop to keep herself busy, and that’s what she does. It better be well-stocked, because Vanessa is a stress shopper and she could clean the bitch out right now.

She strides past bags of chips and candy and cookies, knowing Brooke won’t be able to eat for a while. She finds bright sunflowers and lilies and grabs a stuffed whale with Get Whale Soon printed on its back, which should make Brooke smile at least.

She stashes her bags on a chair and resumes her pacing, minutes ticking by like sludge until she hears a doctor call her name.

“Everything went well. She’s okay.”

Vanessa hears those words and can’t really pay attention to the rest, body ready to run to wherever Brooke is, to see her with her own eyes and know she’s okay.

“Can I see her?” she blurts, not caring about her rudeness.

The doctor smiles, probably used to people ruder than her. “We’re moving her into her room now, and then a nurse will take you to see her. She’s asleep right now; she’ll probably be in and out for another couple hours and she’ll be a little groggy. We’d like to keep her overnight for observation, but there were no complications and she should be able to go home tomorrow.”

The relief is overwhelming, and Vanessa has to grab at her chest to stay standing. She’s okay. Brooke is okay. The thoughts are on loop as the nurse takes her to Brooke’s room, leaving with instructions to call if they need anything.

All she needs right now is Brooke, every ounce of Vanessa’s focus trained on her wife. Brooke is pale, almost as pale as the sheets, and she looks so small, not like Vanessa’s entire body can fit against her. But her face is peaceful as she sleeps and Vanessa is grateful she’s at least not in any pain.

She arranges a florist’s worth of flowers on the window and rests the whale against Brooke’s leg, avoiding her abdomen. The doctor said they made three small incisions and sealed them with sutures that dissolve on their own, which sounds like some sci-fi shit to Vanessa. The rise of Brooke’s chest is soft and steady and Vanessa finds herself matching it, all her fears from the past hours melting away. She’s okay. Brooke is okay.

She settles into another hard chair and waits.

—-

“N-Ness?” Brooke’s voice is hoarse and foggy and it’s the best thing Vanessa’s heard in hours.

“I’m here.”

Brooke is trying to turn her head but not getting anywhere, and Vanessa stands up so Brooke can see her.

“Good.” Brooke’s glassy eyes slide shut and she takes a deep breath before forcing them back open, like she’s afraid Vanessa will disappear if they close too long.

“You can go back to sleep, baby. I’ll still be here.”

“‘Kay.”

Brooke is asleep seconds later.

—-

“Ness?” Brooke’s voice is a bit clearer, a bit stronger this time.

“I’m here, honey. Do you feel okay?”

“Mmm. You’re here.”

Brooke’s right hand is moving, or trying to anyway, the motion wobbly and slow. A frustrated wrinkle forms between her eyebrows. It’s adorable, but Vanessa reaches down to take Brooke’s hand so she doesn’t get too upset.

“I’m here. I promised, didn’t I?”

“I love you.” Vanessa’s not sure if it’s just her or the leftover anesthesia mixed with painkillers, but Brooke’s eyes are clearer than before and she’ll never tire of Brooke saying she loves her.

“I love you too, baby.” She reaches down near Brooke’s leg and pulls up the gift resting there. “I got you a whale.”

“I love it,” Brooke gasps, mouth falling open, and Vanessa releases her hand so Brooke can hold it, her fingers clumsily stroking the whale’s head.

“Thank you for staying,” Brooke says.

“Of course, baby. I’m always gonna stay with you.”

She leans down to kiss Brooke, and she knows the words will always be true.

[bits-bobs-and-barnes]

Second Chance {Tony Stark x Reader}

This is Part Three in the Stark Internship series! Read Part One Here, and read Part Two here!

Tags: @vxidnik @madampomfrcy @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @sbmarvel @can-you-actuallynot  @thevanishedillusion @classyunknownlover @thatisthemagic @httphiddlestan @ur-honey-child @queenylime @ggclarissa @bethanylaw @godohammers @kasiarella @thebabewithoutthearms @jilldsumner @bellamyblakemorley

Warnings: mentions of guns

{Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait! I’ve been trying to make sure this part was a perfect addition to the series and spent a little extra on quality control. Hope you enjoy, and remember to like and reblog!}

You bobbed the pen between your lips, focused intently on the monitor to your left as your hands moved of their own accord. You’d gotten more than your fair share of shocks since starting this small project, working with such intricate wiring on such a small scale didn’t lend itself to human error, but you were confident that you-

“Y/N!”

You jumped, and cursed under your breath as you felt another tiny shock rip through your hands. “Steve.” You were half-exasperated, “if you want me to finish this for you and the team, I need time to work.” 

He smiled sheepishly, but leaned on the counter next to your work-bench, peering at the monitor that had captured your attention for the past few days. “T’Challa invited us to dinner, and though I know what you’ll say,” he gave you a look, hearkening back to past conversations about your lack of self-care, “I thought I’d make an effort to invite you, and formally beg you to come spend some time with your friends.” 

You sighed, pulling the pen from between your lips, and stepping back, turning to him, diverting your attention from the project that had been your saving grace these past few months. “You know why I don’t want to go, so don’t start with this guilt-trip now.”

He rolled his eyes, approaching your work-bench now, and examining the inner workings of the small device. “Shuri could help you. Any of us could. You don’t have to be alone,” his voice was soft, comforting, and his hand moved to come to rest over your shoulder. 

“I like the quiet,” you returned, “and I like having something that’s mine, my project, that I can really sink my teeth into.” You picked at an imaginary piece of lint on your jacket, “but, if it really means that much to you, I can come to dinner tonight.” 

His smile was instantaneous, bright, and warm, immediately engulfing you in a one-armed hug. “Good, I was getting worried I’d have to hook you up to an IV,” he joked, allowing the tension and worry to seep out of his posture. “We’ll get something special to celebrate, Y/N.” 

You smiled back, but couldn’t fight the feeling that raising a big fuss over something as simple as you taking a break would only exacerbate the feelings of loneliness that gnawed at your chest. You missed Peter, you missed May, you even missed some of your college friends more than you could bear. But, when Steve had contacted you, and you had flown to Germany, you’d committed a federal crime. You doubted you could ever go home, not without some serious repercussions. 

But, you’d certainly take serious prison time over an awkward dinner with the Wakandan nobles and your teammates. 

“Look who’s emerged from her cave,” Natasha teased, looking effortlessly regal in a slim fitting evening gown. “I was beginning to forget what you looked like.” She moved forward to embrace you, offering a soft word of encouragement in your ear: “I’m glad you joined us tonight.” 

You were hard-pressed to offer a polite smile, easing around her to take your seat besides Steve. You weren’t uncomfortable with the upscale cuisine, per se, you enjoyed trying new things, and everything that graced T’Challa’s dining table was practically fit for a god. It was more the little looks you received, the ignorant remarks about you being shy or reclusive, and the general aura that there was something special about you being there. 

Dinner passed without much incident, other than a few forced laughs as your teammates (even now the word felt strange) tried their best to make you comfortable and content, without knowing the slightest bit about you. You returned to your lab, and began to poke at the small device again, happy with the quiet state of your lab and again beginning to fiddle with the wiring. 

“Come on...” you mumbled with impatience, making the last connection and practically feeling it buzz to life in your hands. You beamed, closing the cover and placing it in a small carrying case, running out of your lab and down the hall, beginning to search for Steve to test the device; something you’d been waiting on for weeks. 

The whole building seemed quiet and empty, and subconsciously, you frowned. It wasn’t usual for everyone to retire so quickly, the bar was empty, the living room was empty, he wasn’t in his bedroom! 

You continued nearly to the front door, and stopped dead in place. 

Tony and Steve were standing there, quietly discussing something in hushed tones, which immediately stopped once you appeared. 

“Y/N!” Steve greeted softly, stepping just in front of Tony to break your line of sight, looking to the device in your hands. “Is it done?”

You didn’t answer, staring at Tony with a numbness you hadn’t expected. “What are you doing here? What is he doing here?” You inquired, your voice presenting your shock like a badge of honor. 

“He’s here to help, Y/N-”

Tony cut him off, his expression oozing the same mixture of hurt and disbelief as it had in Germany. “Like always, I’m here to save your ass.” He crossed his arms, covering his pain with arrogance. “Peter misses you.” 

Your expression quickly twisted into something more fiery, insults and barbs coming to your tongue like a broken dam. 

“Stop!” Steve put a handle on it before it begun. “It’s late, Y/N, let’s test it,” he gestured to the box, “and get to bed. We can hash it out in the morning.” He rubbed his brow like the past ten minutes had stolen ten years from his life. 

“Fine.” You turned your back on him, and began to walk back towards your lab. Anger bubbled in your chest, bringing heat to your cheeks as you remembered every sleight he’d ever committed, filled with the desire to throw them back in his face. When you finally reached your lab, you turned to receive Steve, and offer a side-glare to Tony. “In this stage of development, it should be ready for field use-”

“What’s it called?” Tony interjected, examining the small pin as you laid it out on the counter. 

You jaw tightened, and you were tempted to ignore him all together. “It’s called Second Chance,Tony.” Once he was satisfied, you continued. “In the other tests there were problems with the unit’s defense and size, but this time around, it’s small enough to fit on a lapel.” You looked to Steve, “do you want to test this version too?”

“I will,” Tony offered, stepping forward and pinning the device haphazardly to his suit jacket. “What happens now?” 

You glanced over to Steve for a second, and reached into the drawer beside your sink, pulling out a handgun, and handing it off to the super-soldier. “We test to see how bulletproof you really are.” 

[peachywise]

nullify part 5

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part v: the disrupting, devilish, and demanding deal || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part vi ⋆ more parts to be released

- synopsis: Finally, the truth of the Hargreeves story comes out. It's a little hard to believe, but what's even worse is what exactly they need your help for. Vanya, you're happy to deal with, but Klaus? Looks like you two are going to be spending a great deal of time together as well.

- notes: hello oh gosh okay i am sorry this hiatus was so long but i am 100% done all my exams so i am officially back at it and writing actively. expect next chapter out soon and it will be a good ol funny fluff klaus heavy chapter okay i love you all i'm sorry, adios

link on ao3 

____________________________

“Do you want to put your pants back on?”

“No,” Klaus smiled, flopping down next to you on the couch and wrapping his arm tightly around your shoulders.

“Then off you go,” you smiled politely back. He gave you a sort of quirked, curious look, but you quickly shoved him off on to the floor before he could figure out your intentions. “I came here to get answers, not to get diseased.”

Klaus mock gasped, while Luther tried to suppress his half-snort laugh from behind his rather large hand. Klaus just crawled halfway across the floor to where he had dropped his pants and slipped them back on— struggling a bit because wow was that leather tight— mumbling incoherently under his breath.

“So, who’s going to be the one to tell me why exactly I’m here?” You questioned, pulling your legs up and crossing them under you, looking from Klaus, to Luther, and then at Five. All three looked at each other as if they hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. Lovely.  Five sighed as he sat on the chair across from you and leaned slightly forward, clasping his hands together as a serious look befell his face.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Just hold off on any questions until the end, it might be a bit hard for you to believe.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you leaned back comfortably. “We were all born to mothers who hadn’t really been pregnant and have powers because of it. You’re afraid your story will be too much for my mind to comprehend? Have a little faith in me.”

Five raised an eyebrow, and Klaus moved back to sit beside you once his pants were properly back on. “Oh, you say that now.” Klaus smiled, giddy in his fidgety excitement, “but personally, I can’t wait to see your reaction.”

“Klaus,” Luther grumbled in an almost warning gesture. Klaus ignored him.

Jesus, you didn’t have time for this.

“For fuck’s sakes, will one of you just spit it out already!”

A moment of silence followed your outcry, but then rather unceremoniously, Five stated point-blank, “we’re from the future and traveled back in time to stop the apocalypse from happening.”

And then, like the clever little slice you are, you allowed yourself a moment of silence as well. You couldn’t even hear your breath, a pin drop, a mouse scurrying across the house, yadda yadda and all those fun clichés.

“You in there?” Klaus asked. He even knocked you on the head lightly, murmuring, “I think you broke the poor thing.”

You swatted his hand away, and he reared it back into his chest, cradling it with the look of a hurt puppy. “I’m not broken,” you grumbled, sitting up a bit as you turned your attention back to Five. “I’m just wondering what you guys take me for. I’m not gullible. Yeah, maybe I believed at one-point Santa existed and was my fourth-grade teacher in disguise, but this? That sounds like a bad plot to a shitty TV show.”

Klaus moved to sit next to Five, covering the kid's ears as he did. “Shh, he was never around long enough for us to tell him the truth about Santa.” You just rolled your eyes as Five simultaneously jerked away so fast, throwing a fast punch to Klaus’s gut that had him doubled over groaning in a second flat. His attention turned back to you just as fast.

“This isn’t a joke. When I disappeared all those years ago, I found a way to travel through time but I got stuck there. What I found was nothing— no civilization, no us, no you. Everything was in ruins. It took me many years, but I found my way back to stop the apocalypse from happening.” At that, he exchanged an odd look with both Klaus and Luther. Klaus looked more sympathetic at that, his expression turning more serious in those moments. Luther meanwhile just looked uncomfortable and a little shutoff, his arms crossed so tightly against his chest that you wondered if those jacket sleeves would rip.

“And this apocalypse, when is it supposed to happen exactly?” you asked, deciding to play into whatever they were pulling. You should have known they were all insane. You’d expected it of Klaus, but man, were all of them this disillusioned? “Let me guess. Big meteors are supposed to rain down and destroy us like they did the dinosaurs? Oh! Better yet, all these fossilized dinosaurs are going to come back to life and eat us all!”

“Someone has an active imagination,” Klaus commented, a gleeful look crossing his face, but Five’s own cynical impatience cut both of you down. “No,” he sneered, standing up in what you assumed was his way of seeming more intimidating or serious. It was just hard to take it that way when he didn’t even reach five feet. “But if you stop talking long enough for me to tell you the story, maybe you would simultaneously stop proving your idiocy and get the answers you want.”

Well, then.

“Carry on.”

“So, you’re telling me all of you traveled back to the past— my present—three months ago after your sister almost ended the world?”

“Technically she did, we just popped right on out before we all rather disastrously perished,” Klaus interjected, speaking for the first time since Five finished relaying his tall tale of all that had happened. Luther simply groaned, tightening his crossed arms even more.

Five ignored them both completely. “In layman’s terms, yes, that’s what happened.”

Now, you were no doubt impressed by his ability to tell stories. It was convincing, you’d give him that, but you just weren’t positive it was true. If you sat there and told him you believed him, for one, you’d look like an utter idiot if they turned out they were lying. It would have had to have been an intricate joke on their part, but you’d be damned if it was going to be played on you. No. You needed to make sure that what he said was real. And there was only one plausible way to do it.

“I have questions. If you even pause in answering them, I’ll kick your ass for lying to me. Got it?”

Five nodded. Klaus just looked amused and leaned forward like he was ready to watch an entertaining game.

“If they aren’t going to be convinced, why are we even bothering telling them? This is a waste of time and energy.” Diego’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to jump a bit and exclaim softly, “Jesus Christ.” When the fuck did he get there? You hadn’t even heard him.

Twisting around and resting your arms on the back of the too-plush, white leather couch, you questioned, “are you sure all you can do is throw knives? Maybe you’re a cat shifter or something, you’re so sneaky. Here, let me test to see if you have nine lives— pass me one of your knives,” you smirked snidely, an impish imitation of the scowl he offered you back. Diego clearly wasn’t amused. “Listen to me, you—”

“Both of you, shut up,” Five snapped, his patience clearly wearing thinner by the second. It looked like the Fisher-Price poster boy might explode. A pity, but hey, you could live with it. “Why must you ruin the fun? I wanted to see the show,” Klaus sighed, resting his hand on the side of his face. You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it with a wink in your direction.

Standing up from your seat, noting with jealously how your butt hadn’t fallen asleep like it did on your thrift store found shit couch, you crossed your arms and stared down at the boy. Back to business.

“Whose apartment is this?”

“Allison’s. It’s a second one she barely uses, so it’s likely we’ll go relatively undetected,” Luther replied.

Made sense. “What year did you guys come from?”  

“2019,” Five replied in a bored manner.

Now that had you squinting your eyes a bit. It was 2015 now, so allegedly you could ask anything about the future.

“Did Jon Snow really die in the season five finale of Game of Thrones?”

Five tilted his head slightly in confusion, and Diego just looked annoyed as he threw his hands up and begun pacing. Klaus snorted. But surprisingly, Luther was the one to answer the question, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes darted to the ceiling, “uhm, no. He’s alive.”

His siblings gave him a questioning look, but you didn’t care which one of them actually knew. You were just thinking thank fuck he was alive. Well. Thank fuck if the Hargreeves were telling the truth and were from the future. Now you were really hoping they were.

“Who won the presidential election?”

Diego was the one to reply this time, a deeper bitterness attached to his tone than the one directed at you earlier. “Donald Trump,”  

Never mind. You hoped they were filthy, humorless liars.

Your face must have displayed your severe disappointment and revolt, as Klaus speedily added, “I would offer words of comfort, but even I can’t find the silver lining in it,” giving a small shudder as he said it.

“Well if you’re done with twenty questions, can I finally get to the part to where you come in, or would you rather waste my time for a while longer?”

You felt a twitch at the corner of your eye at Five’s abrasiveness, but you offered a sweet smile over it. “As a matter of fact, I would rather waste your time longer. Thanks.”

Was he getting red in the face? Ooo, delightful.

Diego apparently didn’t see the joy in it. He stomped over to you in his little combat boots and all, getting directly in your face. “You can nullify powers, and we have a sister who’s having trouble controlling hers, and no longer wants to try. Either you help, or get out and forget about all this."

You held your breath for a moment, eyeing him down in what you were sure was some unspoken fight for dominance. At least he was blunt about something both Klaus and Five had been leading up to. You could respect that. However, the situation on the other hand? It was a little confusing. If Vanya did actually have powers— and after having read her book, you were surprised in the least to hear of them— and was the cause for the end of the world, what could be done to really control them? You could stop it from happening maybe, granted you had no idea how much pressure your force field could take in stopping her from using them, but wasn’t that just a momentary fix?

“She nearly put an end to the whole world, or rather, she did, but you all just escaped it. What exactly do you need me for? You expect her to do it again or something? Where even is she?”

Luther suddenly pulled Diego back, taking his place in front of you as a voice for the collective of them. “She’s in one of the rooms with Allison now, but all you need to understand is we’ve been here for three months. For the first month, Vanya couldn’t even look at us. She wouldn’t speak. She was in a catatonic state. In the second month, we tried to understand the extent of her powers to figure out how to prevent another apocalypse from happening, but every time she tried to use them, she couldn’t control them. Now she won’t even try, but they’re still there. She’s a ticking time bomb.”

A small unsettled flare lit in your stomach. “She’s also your sister. Don’t talk about her like she’s just a problem to fix. From the story Five told, you guys locking her up and essentially ignoring her for her whole life was the catalyst for this whole thing. Yeah, I get it. She almost ended the world, and what she did to Allison was fucked up. I’m not condoning that. But if you’re actually going to help her now, then do it for her. Actually, be there for her. Don’t pin me— a stranger— on her to take the problem off your fucking hands.”

You had been in enough foster and group homes to understand the loneliness that often came with them. But it was one thing to be ignored, and another to be acknowledged as simply not good enough. Vanya’s book had been very telling, about all their lives and not just hers. Each Hargreeves sibling had been fucked over by their mad father, and undoubtedly you felt empathy and sympathy for each of their situations and not just hers. Though your life had its own tragedies at the hand of your powers and other’s opinion of them, you had still spent most of the time you could avoiding every being detected by Reginald at all, fearing being included in his little makeshift family. You had known the love of a father before. They clearly hadn’t. Growing up, the Academy thing left a sour taste in your mouth. It wasn’t until you had read Vanya’s book that you finally understood why.

Luther blinked at you in surprise, and you noted a bob in his throat as he swallowed a little nervously. He looked a bit cross like he might actually dare to argue back, but Klaus cut him off before he could, moving to stand beside him.

His wide eyes seemed to reflect a serious outlook, his face a little pale. “We all made mistakes, we know that,” he started off with, and you were once again shocked by the sincerity he seemed to be able to display. Your breathing was a bit ragged after getting so aggravated in your little monologue, and Klaus grabbed your hands and led you back to the couch as if calming an upset child. Ass face. Sitting across from you on to ottoman, he continued, “we all sat there pinning blame on one another when really, it was dear old dad who ruined us all. I want to help. We all want to help.” he squeezed your hands, before finally releasing them. “But we need you as well. Vanya needs to feel like she’s in a controlled environment. If she practices around you and things get out of hand, hopefully, you can turn it off before things go boom again.”

Leaning back, you sank down into the cushions and covered your face with your hand, the light not helping your now growing headache. You took a deep breath in and then out. “Okay. Okay, I’ll help,” you relented, dropping your hand to peer at Klaus’s hopeful little smile. You quickly shifted your gaze back to Five, who had been silent during the entire exchange, simply watching with a contemplative eye. “So, what’s the plan then? I just come over sometimes and stand guard or something while she does her thing?”

Five picked up a coffee mug of the table and took a sip, putting it back down as he muttered, “you ask a lot of questions. But no. We want to be as safe as possible, so the plan would be for you to move in here in case anything was to happen.”

You were quiet for a moment. Maybe a little too quiet, since Five looked a little surprised by your lack of response, which was odd, since you weren’t sure what he was expecting your reaction to be.

“You should stick to brooding. Humour is not your strong suit. Seriously, what’s the plan?”

“I’m not joking. That is the plan.”

Hmm.

Getting up from the couch, you picked up your tote bag, and then the broken clock which had still been sitting on the floor. You slipped it into the bag. Pulling down your sunglasses, you turned towards the group and gave a lazy salute, stating, “Well, it’s been real guys. I’ll be sure to send you a Christmas card.”

Klaus shot up so suddenly you almost got whiplash, and ran to the door to pin himself in front of it like a scraggly leather clad barrier. “Whoa, whoa, hold on a second,” he pleading with a frantic little laugh, “be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” You huffed at the shithead, no trace of such amusement in your voice. “You want me to just drop my whole life to live with a bunch of batshit insane grown up super babies and be at your every beck and call? Hell no. I have two jobs. I have an apartment I need to pay for!”

Klaus muttered back awkwardly, “technically you’re also a batshit insane grown up super baby,” but before you could reach back into your bag for the clock to chuck at his head, Five’s hand gripped your wrist in a tight grasp.

“Will you calm down? If you don’t want to move in here, then Vanya can move into your apartment with you,” Five snapped, releasing his grasp as Klaus started to move back towards you like an inquisitive animal unsure if the being in front of it was a predator or not.

You scrunched your brows together. “Seriously? I told you guys she needs her family. Having her live with me isn’t going to do much good. Look, I am fine coming over once and a while to help out, I really am, but I can’t just drop my whole life. You guys aren’t going to be here forever, and what happens when you guys leave? I have to go back to something.”

Five took a step back, contemplating this as you spoke. Diego took the quiet opportunity to intervene with his own point of view, adding, “they’re right. This whole plan was bound to fail anyway. We can think of something else.”

You were about to agree with him, but before you could, Klaus interjected with a very loud, “wait, I have an idea!”

Luther stated, “well that’s a first,” and you decided your clock’s next target was going to be his big rude head instead.

“Vanya will live with you, but all of us can still visit you and stay with her when you’re at work or what not.” Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, you thought. But still, she should be around them more so than around you. Part of fixing this whole situation was fixing their family relationship too. Klaus seemed to almost read your mind, albeit, a little misconstrued, as he added, “better yet, I’ll move in too! It’ll be fun, we can all paint each other’s nails and braid each other’s hair—

“Fuck no.”

Klaus frowned, grabbing your shoulders and giving your tense self a little shake. “Oh, come on. I thought we were getting along?”

You deadpanned, “I’m a terrific actor.”

Granted, his plan did have some merit, but you loved having your own space. Your apartment wasn’t even that big anyway. You had your room, a pull-out bed in your crappy makeshift spare room, and then that uncomfortable couch. You wouldn’t subject anyone to that no matter what.

“We’ll pay you if you agree,” Five interrupted your thoughts, and suddenly, you wondered why you had ever thought it had been a bad idea at all.

“Well in that case, hello roomie,” you smiled at Klaus, as his mouth popped open in slight shock. Ignoring him, you dropped your bag on the floor and turned back to the rest of the family.

“Well, let me meet Vanya. We should probably check to see if my force field can even keep her powers at bay in the first place. Or if she’s even comfortable moving in with me.” Lowering your sunglasses back down, you looked them all in the eyes and said, “I, of course, will be paid for my services no matter the outcome.”  

Klaus uttered a small, but very audible, awe of, “they’re magnificent, aren’t they?”

[jongdaeslut]

netflix and chill

pairing: baekhyun/chanyeol

rating: mature - it’s a blowjob, my dudes.

summary: chanyeol's content to sit on his new, super comfy (or semi-comfy, if you're a downer like kyungsoo is) couch and enjoy a movie. baekhyun has other plans.

notes: 1 - i wrote this three years ago to fill a prompt (rip exo prompt meme u’ll be in my heart forever) and i have it posted on ao3, but i’m putting it here too bc... quite frankly i need a test fic for blog formatting that’s not Completely Horrifying.

2 - ksoo does not appear in this fic for even one goddamn second

they’re about a third of the way through saw iv when it happens.

“so,” baekhyun says nonchalantly, as if he was talking about the weather, or what he’d had for lunch that day, “i think i might be gay.”

“okay,” chanyeol says, eyes trained on the screen of his piece of shit laptop. “that’s nice.”

it wasn’t that chanyeol didn’t give a shit about his best friend’s sexuality. rather than that, he just found it hard to be surprised by it when he’d already caught him staring at that one freshman’s ass, like, a billion times already.

(he does wushu, baekhyun had sniffed when chanyeol brought it up one time. anyone would stare).

he’d also walked in on his best friend making out with the assistant captain of the basketball team once, but that was neither here nor there.

so baekhyun’s abrupt declaration of his sexuality doesn’t exactly come as a huge shock. but what falls out of his best friend’s mouth next really, really does.

“i think you should let me suck your cock to find out,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that it takes chanyeol a whole eight seconds to register exactly what he’d heard.

“uh,” chanyeol replies intelligently, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and his best friend’s face, “um.”

“come on,” baekhyun urges him, “you know i’d let you do the same to me if you asked. best bros forever, right?”

well. now chanyeol simply can’t refuse because really, what kind of person would deny their very best bro in the whole entire world the chance to explore their sexuality? not park chanyeol, that’s for sure.

so after a moment’s hesitation, he says, “alright.”

whatever, he thinks to himself as baekhyun lifts himself off the couch and places himself on the floor between chanyeol’s knees. sure, it’s by a dude, and sure, if things get awkward after this it could mean the end of their friendship (well, maybe not that, because baekhyun is the literally least shameless person chanyeol has ever met) - worst case scenario, he’s still getting his dick sucked.

“can you, like, maybe pull your pants down so i can actually get to your dick?" baekhyun says, impatient as always.

chanyeol grumbles in response as he tugs his pants over his hips and down his thighs. "i try to be nice, and this is what i get in return."

baekhyun rolls his eyes. "don't act like you're the one doing me a favor when i’m the one who's about to blow you," he says primly.

"i am the one doing you a favor," complains chanyeol, "i said netflix and chill, not netflix and suck my dick."

"oh, stop whining, you baby," baekhyun says, and then he wraps his mouth around the head of chanyeol's cock and oh, maybe it's baekhyun who's the one doing the favor after all.

"okay," chanyeol says breathlessly, long fingers tangling in baekhyun's hair as the smaller boy's mouth sinks down around his cock, "alright, there is no way you haven't done this before."

baekhyun’s mouth pops off his dick to give him lip. “i never said i hadn’t,” he tells him matter-of-factly.

“i thought you said this was to find out if you’re into dudes!” chanyeol complains, but he doesn’t really give a shit if baekhyun makes the effort to explain himself. part of it’s because he’s pretty sure baekhyun’s already figured out that he’s into dudes on his own, but mostly he just wants his best friend’s pretty (yes, pretty - chanyeol may be straight, but he knows pretty when he sees it, okay?!) mouth back around his cock.

thankfully, baekhyun doesn’t seemed particularly inclined to answer. “who cares?” he responds, sounding mildly irritated. “just shut up and let me suck your dick in peace. or don’t shut up, whatever. be as loud as you want, just stop fucking talking already.”

chanyeol opens his mouth in ready assent, but then baekhyun’s tongue is flicking along the underside of his dick from the shaft to the head, and what comes out instead of words is a garbled mess of sound. he swears he can almost feel the corners of his best friend’s lips curl up in satisfaction.

but then he thinks he hears a zipper being pulled down, and then he’s positive because baekhyun lets out a moan that vibrates through his entire cock. he looks down, and sure enough, baekhyun has a hand wrapped around his own erection and is stroking it firmly. which would be fine, really, but his dick is pointing in the direction of his couch, and he only bought this couch a couple of weeks ago, dammit!

“dude,” chanyeol says, but it’s really only kind of a word and mostly just a groan of pleasure because baekhyun’s mouth feels like heaven.

baekhyun doesn’t bother responding this time, just looks up at chanyeol from his position on the floor, half-lidded eyes gazing up at him through dark lashes, and it’s honestly a way more erotic than chanyeol had bargained for. for a moment, he’s almost entranced, and then baekhyun moans around his cock again and chanyeol’s brought back to reality because as good as this feels, the concept of cleaning his best friend’s spunk off of his favorite piece of furniture isn’t exactly appealing.

“baek, could you, like - fuck -” baekhyun’s tongue dips into the tip of chanyeol’s dick, and it’s more than a little distracting. “i dunno, jack off in a different direction so you don’t - don’t get cum on my couch? please?”

he’s not sure whether or not baekhyun is too caught up in giving head to register what he’s been asked to do or is just plain ignoring him, because he scoots in even closer to the couch and grips the base of chanyeol’s cock with his free hand, sucking at the head with a little more fire than he had been before.

“or you could just - okay,” chanyeol surrenders, allowing his head to loll back in pleasure, “that’s cool too, i guess.”

chanyeol’s whether it’s talent or experience that baekhyun has a lot of, but he figures it doesn’t matter too much, because his mouth is hot and wet and his tongue is nimble and his hand is just tight enough around chanyeol’s cock that he feels like he could go insane, even though he knows he won’t. of course, baekhyun chooses that moment to revisit the whole ‘hey, let’s tongue the underside of chanyeol’s dick!’ plan, and chanyeol decides that no, actually, he’s losing his mind really fucking quickly, especially as he feels his balls tighten, and oh, shit -

“baek,” he gasps out, “baek, i’m gonna nut, fuck!”

he almost expects baekhyun to pull off and finish him with his hand (although he wouldn’t put it past him not to help him cum at all), but instead he lets go of chanyeol’s cock so he can take him all the way into his mouth, to the back of his throat, even, and chanyeol sees that baekhyun’s nose pressed up against his crotch before everything goes white and he cums deep down baekhyun’s throat.

chanyeol falls back against the couch, dazed, and baekhyun takes the opportunity to finish himself with a high-pitched moan. sure enough, it splatters all over the couch, milky white stark against the black of the fabric.

a few moments later, chanyeol catches his breath enough to complain. “what a fucking mess,” he says, “i hope you know i’m not cleaning up your jizz.”

“fucking ungrateful,” baekhyun says, sniffing delicately. it doesn’t suit his actual personality at all, but chanyeol decides to hold his tongue on that one. “i do all that work blowing you, and all you can think about is me getting semen on your couch. which, by the way, is a noble sacrifice considering how much you seemed to enjoy it!”

“it’s brand new!” chanyeol whines, “and it’s leather!”

his best friend scoffs at him in response. “you bought it used, and it’s pleather,” baekhyun tells him flatly. “i think it’ll be alright.”

chanyeol pouts at him. “you’ll understand when you have your first child.”

“unbelievable,” baekhyun shakes his head, “it’s a fucking couch, chanyeol. a couch.”

in the end, though, chanyeol’s the one cleaning up baekhyun’s mess with a damp paper towel and a surprising lack of complaints.

they settle back into the couch to finally finish the movie, and there’s a small calm before chanyeol speaks again.

“baek,” chanyeol says, “i think i might be gay. or bi. or at least, like.. not completely straight.”

baekhyun flutters his eyelashes and tilts his head mischievously. “care to blow me and find out?”

chanyeol gives his answer by forcefully chucking a pillow at baekhyun’s head.

[lesbeet]

long post ahead

ive been thinking nonstop about the possibility of me having adhd since my sister and her boyfriend brought it up to me last week (i’m FINALLY seeing my therapist today so we can talk about it) and i’ve been doing a lot of research and i found the howtoadhd channel on youtube

and literally the number of times in the past 2 hours alone that i’ve teared up or started legitimately crying because of how much i relate to things that these videos are saying is ridiculous, like some of them are word-for-word things i’ve said that i had NO inkling of an idea could be related to adhd

like this one video of this guy who was diagnosed at 43 and said that prior to his diagnosis he had just accepted that he would feel dissatisfied for his whole life, that he would never feel content, i’ve been saying that for YEARS and just was resigned to it and chalked it up solely to my depression

and just like. having been able to do well in school as a kid but constantly being told that i’m “not living up to [my] potential” and now that i’m in my early 20s and my intelligence can’t compensate for like....not being able to regulate my emotions and not being able to organize my life and not being able to motivate myself to do things, which is supposedly why a number of people get diagnosed around this time, because metrics for success are different in adulthood (you can’t just take a test and rely on being smart to compensate for all the other problems), and i was always just. thinking that i fucked up and wasted my life through laziness or whatever the case may be

i’ve always considered myself to be “crafty” and “resourceful” in the sense that i may not go about doing things in the typical way but i can almost always find a way to accomplish what i need accomplished, even if it’s unconventional -- apparently that’s common with adhd too! like i’ll say “oh i couldn’t figure out how to do [x] so i did [y and z]” and someone will be like “why didn’t you just do [thing everyone else does]” and usually i either couldn’t figure out how, or it didn’t occur to me, and my way was weird and unconventional, but it worked for me!

and then of course i’m just recognizing all these signs that have always been there that i either didn’t notice or attributed to other things -- i’ve been trying to observe the way my attention functions this week and literally i space out and miss things SO much more often than i ever realized, like i miss so much information because i’ve drifted off. or i get really stuck on things in conversations and even after everyone else has moved on i have this urge to bring it back so i can say that last thing i’ve been rehearsing over and over for the past 5 minutes so i didn’t forget it, and now it’s in my head and everyone is talking about something else and it’s SO inconsequential but i have to forcibly drag myself away from whatever the thing is (yesterday my sister and her friend and i were talking about early 2000′s fashion and i wanted to make a comment about wearing ugly scarves as belts and they saw a dog and moved on to talking about cute things our dogs have done and i just couldn’t stop thinking about the scarves as belts thing for like 10 minutes until i just had to sigh and be like...well i can’t bring that up again now)

when i was younger i would rush through tests so i could go back to whatever book i was reading and i just thought it was a silly quirk like “oh i just like to read lol” but i realized i still do similar things -- if i’m reading a book or watching a show or working on something, THAT is what i’m doing. anything else, whether it’s work or sleep or eating or hanging out with a friend or fulfilling any sort of responsibility? that’s a break from the thing i’m doing. if i’m reading a book, even if it’s the 3rd time i’m rereading harry potter for the year, for example, then in my head, i’m reading harry potter. i have to go to work all day but then i can read harry potter. all i’m doing is thinking about reading harry potter. i rush through my responsibilities so i can go BACK to reading harry potter, because that’s what i’m doing and anything else is just taking a break from reading harry potter. (you see how this can negatively affect the accomplishment/fulfillment of important tasks and responsibilities)

and my sister has pointed out things that i didn’t really notice, like she said it’s really difficult to hold a conversation with me when i’m excited about something because i can’t calm down enough to let the other person talk. and i’ve always known that i tend to finish peoples’ sentences for them during conversations, which i always thought was a way of showing that i’m listening! but ive realized it’s actually that, if i already know what you’re going to say, and you’re saying it too slowly, i get impatient and i need to blurt out the rest for you so we can move on and i can say my next thing before i forget it

and like obviously all people experience some symptoms some of the time, daydreaming isn’t exclusive to adhd, neither is walking into a room and forgetting what you’re doing there. but this week as i’ve been paying attention, i notice i do it CONSTANTLY. the other night i opened up my phone before bed because i remembered i hadn’t set my alarm, so i picked it up from where i place it for the night (i was about to go to sleep). 15 minutes later i put my phone back down and decided to turn in for the night again, and then realized i still had never turned the alarm on because i got distracted and did other stuff. and things like that happen with almost comical regularity, now that i know to look for it.

i’ve known i have executive dysfunction issues for a long time so i won’t go into those, but like we’ve known i have problems with directions and organization and spatial processing and knowing how to complete tasks for a long time

the rejection-sensitive dysphoria is something i didn’t really realize was part of adhd, but it makes SO much sense. i think it’s part of why i thought i had bpd for a while, because a lot of the symptoms were similar and i knew i was dealing with something more than just depression and anxiety but didn’t know what, and a lot of the symptoms i experienced also seemed to fit the bpd diagnosis even if my actual behavior and personality didn’t seem to

there are so many more things i’ve noticed this week and thought about differently but i literally can’t remember what they are lmao i think i’m gonna try to write stuff down so i don’t forget to tell my therapist today but like. 

so many of these things i didn’t realize had anything to do with adhd, like emotional dysregulation, i’ve always known i have horrible mood swings and trouble regulating my emotions, i’ve always noticed a lot of these different symptoms but it never occurred to me that they could all be part of the same thing??

like i haven’t been tested or diagnosed yet and i’m worried i’m getting carried away but the only time i’ve ever felt this sort of relief was a few months ago when realizing my dad is a narcissist. like the feeling of “oh my god, i knew this was something i experienced but i didn’t think i could attribute it to anything” and “oh my god, this is word for word something i say all the time, i didn’t realize it was part of a pattern”

and it genuinely made me cry! hearing people talk about things that describe me that i never would have guessed might have to do with adhd, finding something that seems to encompass a very broad range of symptoms that i previously thought were unrelated or results of a myriad of things (and obviously they all play off of one another but that’s a whole separate issue)

but it would explain so much of my behavior and challenges -- why i struggle with finishing up a task or project once the big, complicated part is done; why i get super obsessed with something and then once it wears off i never mention or think about it again; why i’ve always needed my mom’s help to clean my closet or pack for a trip, even though i felt like i was way too old to need help with that; why people constantly are like “i know you heard me say this because you said ‘ok’” about things i genuinely have no recollection of

but i just can’t stop thinking about that guy talking about how he was just resigned to thinking he would never been satisfied or content with his life because that is something i have been feeling and saying FOREVER, for years ive just been like “everything is so hard, the idea of spending the rest of my life struggling to get up in the morning and going to work every day, dealing with all my responsibilities, i feel like i’m exhausted and underwater just thinking about it, i’m never going to feel fulfilled or satisfied, it’s always just going to be slogging through my responsibilities and it’s never going to end” and apparently that’s....a normal thing, and i just thought it was depression and maybe part of it is, but maybe the reason i struggle so much with those every day things is because my brain is wired differently?

and maybe i’ve fucked up because at this point i think i’ll be really disappointed if i don’t get the diagnosis because i’m not really sure what else could explain these issues, it certainly makes sense and i feel like it fits and i feel relieved just thinking about having that answer, and it certainly negatively impacts almost every aspect (if not every aspect) of my life. so like if i don’t get diagnosed idk what i’m gonna do and i probably fucked up by spending the last week obsessing over it lol

but like....the relief i feel every time i read or hear or see someone with adhd say “i experience [x]” and i’m like holy shit??? me too???? and it just. feels like maybe there’s an explanation for all this horrible dissatisfaction and unhappiness i thought i was going to be stuck with for the rest of my life, and there are other people who experience these things and there are things that can be done, medication and therapy and strategies and...my whole life doesn’t NEED to feel like a challenge, maybe it’s not an indisputable fact that i’m just going to have to live with forever.

if you read this far and you have adhd (especially if you were diagnosed after childhood) i would love to hear your thoughts on this, obviously i didn’t list every single symptom and experience and i know there are more but these are all i could think of at the moment, if i seem like i’m way off base obviously please let me know

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Chapter 6—Revenge and Results

“It’s about time to get revenge.”

I was too caught up in making a killing off of Empty Cans and forgot about my true goal—The Big One. Even if that’s not my true goal, I’m not about to make picking up cans a career. It’s been a week since and my Energy and Skills have been upgraded accordingly. I might have a chance now. I check my status just in case.

Name/ Kizuna†Exceed Race/ Spirit Energy/ 6,340 Mana/ 150 Serin/ 148,540

Skills/ Energy Production VI, Mana Production IV, Fishing Mastery III, Gutting Mastery II, Transmutation I

Energy Production VI Generates 2,000 Energy per hour Costs 2,600 Mana to upgrade.

Mana Production IV Generates 50 Mana per hour Consumes 1,400 Energy per hour Costs 3,200 Mana to upgrade

Fishing Mastery III All actions with a fishing rod receives a 30% buff. Consumes 400 Energy per hour. Costs 400 Mana to upgrade.

Gutting Mastery II All actions with a gutting weapon receives a 20% buff. Consumes 200 Energy per hour. Costs 200 Mana to upgrade.

Transmutation I Converts items to Energy.

Right now, I consume as much Energy as I produce, so I’m only barely scraping by with Transmutation I. Mastery skills are usually unlocked by gaining a certain item count. For Fishing Mastery, it’s based on how many fish you’ve caught. I unlocked Gutting Mastery by obtaining 1,000 items through gutting. Rank I was fairly easy to unlock, but II is a huge leap up. With Fishing Mastery, it jumped from catching 100, to 500, then to 1,000 fish. Gutting Mastery increases similarly.

I heard from Alto that combat Masteries are unlocked by getting a certain number of kills with the appropriate weapon. I’m not sure whether it’s a little-known fact or that no one fully understands it yet, but it’s rumored that using a gutting weapon that’s effective on your opponent will make them drop special items. Though the low damage of gutting weapons is somewhat of a controversial topic. Well, in any case, it seems like people have figured it out. Even for such a controversy, you still gotta use it to get the drops you need.

Right now, I have equipped a set of cerulean, indigo clothes called the “Caterpillar”. There’s a superstition among us fishers that one can catch a lot more by wearing dark colors when fishing at night. It seems like fishers in real life have a similar belief. I’m not sure whether it’s true or not, but since I had been fishing a lot at night for Empty Cans, I’m praying to the gods that my dark clothes will make a difference.

Anyway, time to get fishing today. By the way, it’s early morning right now. It was at noon when The Big One got away that time. It might just mean that I have a chance at noon again. And later today, the three of us… sisters are planning to get together.

I’m definitely catching The Big One. My one week of effort will not go to waste.

I fervently fished for 10 hours. I’ve been catching nothing but herring since six this morning. There wasn’t even so much a sign of The Big One. It might have just really been a coincidence that The Big One bit that time. Even if it takes me days or weeks, I will catch you. Mark my words.

—Herring obtained.

“Another herring? Odd how there are so many of them today.”

Upgrading Fishing Mastery is supposed to increase the catch rate of all fish, but for some reason, I’ve caught nothing but herrings today. I stick it in the creel jam-packed with all the other herring.

“… the God of Herring must be here with me.”

Well, I don’t think any god would show up in a video game. Or no, actually. Maybe there indeed are gods in this game’s world. Who knows?

“… hmm?”

A great shadow appears on the surface of the water. I tightly grasp my fishing rod with ever-growing anticipation. Don’t get impatient. Don’t you dare rush this. Be absolute. I’m no longer the same person I was a week ago. No way I’m letting you get away this time.

“C’mere, c’mere, c’mere…”

I may be wrought with anxiety, but I focus on the tip of my rod and not the shadow in the water. It’s just as I’ve practiced up ‘til now.

“That’s a bite!”

It’s the same snatch I felt on that day before I fell into the sea. I plant myself to the ground and brace myself. Then I felt a strong tug directly from the rod.

That sensation is a little fuzzier than usual. It gets stronger on every tug with the blips like hit detection or something. But I’m not about to lose at this test of might.

“Have at my Fishing Mastery III!”

Carefully and rapidly does this shift in offense and defense change. It’s the strongest opponent I’ve faced thus far. It truly is The Big One.

The battle drew out for another 30 minutes. The Big One was getting tired. Taking the chance, I press on with my attack. My fishing rod creaks and my focus is starting to wane, but since I’m in a game, I think I’ll be alright.

“This is the ultimate showdown!”

The blips continue to pulse through the rod.

And then, The Big One flies out of the water—

“Ahahahaha! What the heck is that?! It’s huge! A huge herring!”

With a dissatisfied look on my face, I met up with my two sisters. Strapped to my back is a giant fish. Correction: it’s The Big One—a giant herring. The Big One was just a herring all along! People point and stare at it on my back. It’s rough.

I was just about to put it into my inventory when Kanata and Tsugumi showed up. And right now, Tsugumi is taking screenshot after screenshot of me… I guess not so much screenshots, but photographs. All screenshots are saved in the USB flash drive we were given for our character creation. But similarly, I’ve taken a few pictures of the fish I caught. And of course, that includes The Big One. For some reason though, people have been striking weird poses when they see me and the fish…

“Don’t laugh at your brother, Tsugumi… pfft!” “Speak for yourself!”

But seriously. Who’da thunk that The Big One would be a herring? And why herring? They don’t seem that tasty either… In any case, the three of us managed to meet up together. It’s the first time I’ve seen them in game… and it really boggles my mind.

“Why am I the littlest one?” “I’ve always wanted another little sister!”

Kanate is a Human. It’s no surprise she’s pretty since we’re in a game, but her character is actually beautiful. She’s got two very visible protrusions too. Her chest is big in real life, but these are bigger. But it’s not that simple either. There’s jiggle physics. They have a bit of a sag to them.

“Me too!”

Tsugumi is a Lycanthrope. It’s called Lycanthrope, but instead fox ears flop from her heard and accent her character. Her face, though, looks somewhat like her older sister’s. Her breasts are neither large nor small. To be precise, they’re exactly the size of a dating sim heroine. She’s quite a bit taller than me though… about as tall as a middle schooler?

“That’s your reason for making me a loli?  Oh, but of course.”

And that leaves me, a Spirit. My body is quite transparent, my chest flat, and all in all petite. I look vaguely similar to those two. Mm. We definitely seem like sisters. I can’t help but to sigh.

“… I’d be lying if I claimed I don’t have more I’d like to say, but whatever.” “That’s a satisfied sigh at how cute of a little girl you are, right?!” “So? How has the past week been for you two?” “Totally flew by!”

I ignored her quip and changed topics. Honestly, we wouldn’t be finished until sundown.

“It was super interesting!” “Perhaps it’d be right to say that I’ve just settled in.”

They both begin talking about their past week. Tsugumi, as expected, played the game like a total shut-in. She’s the highest level amongst us. I don’t have levels so I’m not exactly sure but seeing how she’s been hard at work every day, she’s got to be stronger than me, someone who hasn’t even left the beginning area. At least she got together with her pals to beat the first boss to unlock the second city.

Kanate plays a bit a bit more reservedly. Unlike Tsugumi who excels at FPS’s and action games, our eldest sister is more of an RPG-type person. Kanate isn’t someone who would be easily defeated though. If my sisters are fighting each other, the younger one would likely fall first. Of course, against a prodigy like her, it wouldn’t be quick or easy. That’s not to say Kanate isn’t playing seriously. Though she hasn’t been at the frontline as much as Tsugumi has, she spent three days finding her perfect weapon, testing each type out. You can even call her a model gamer.

“How about you, Big Bro Kizuna?” “Ah, yeah, it’s been interesting, fishing.” “Huh? Kizuna, you’ve been doing nothing but fishing?” “Y-Yeah? So what? And I’ll have you know I haven’t even been out of this town yet!”

I was met with ice cold stares. Thank goodness that didn’t awaken any masochistic side in me.

“Uhmmm, Big Bro? Do you wanna go check out the next town over? There’s a river there. And what kind of weapon are you using?” “A gutting knife.” “Is it a little on the weak side? Don’t gutting knives get you extra item drops when you kill monsters with them?” “Yep, that’s right.”

I don’t think they truly understand what they’re for. It’s probably just some kind of joke weapon for them.

“There are some items you can’t get without one of those gutting weapons. Pass them along to me if you get any, okie dokie?” “Is that so?” “I think there are quite a few of those items too. They trade for quite a lot between players. But since it deals rather low damage, it’s not very popular. Plus, it’s not often you get special drops either.”

How interesting. Maybe I can gut monsters too. I’ll try fighting monsters tomorrow. I should probably be looking for a new weapon too. I didn’t feel like I really needed one, so I hadn’t been looking for it, even when I was implementing the Empty Can Strategy. And plus, I have to get the appropriate weapon for each monster type. It’s not likely that I can use my Novice Gutting Knife.

“Do you want me to getcha some good equips, Big Bro?” “There’s the matter of pride when an older brother gets gifted things by their little sisters…” “Whatcha talkin’ about?! I always lend you items when we game together.”

She’s right. Sometimes, this game is too realistic, and it gets me confused.

“Well, it’s not like I’m hurting for money. If you let me know what to get, I’ll pay for it myself.” “Even though you’ve only been fishing?” “Did you see those Iron Ingots that were for sale until not long ago?” “Huh? Yeah. I used some yesterday.” “Actually, I was the one who got the materials for them.” “Really? What were they? Some guy named Altorese said it was a trade secret or somethin’, so I have no clue about it.” “As soon as people found ores, we told everyone about our secret. And that’s why I’m not hurting for money.” “So? What’s ya secret?”

I flashed a smug grin at the floppy fox-eared Tsugumi.

“Those ingots were made from Empty Cans, y’know?”

Seeing the shocked look on their faces is enough satisfaction to last me another week.

contents: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /next/

(please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

(check out another title by the same author! or perhaps a bit of teenage romance?)

[x-lipstickstain-x]

hey so, i really enjoyed the imagine you wrote and i would like to request one as well, if you want to write it; ive been listening to the song lost in japan by shawn mendes and thought about andi (bc what else do i think about lately, nothing) maybe you can come up with something for that. i know this is really vague, sorry. (also i kinda hate the y/n thing, can you just pick a name, its less awkward to read) okay, thank you so much if you wanna give it a try 💜

It`s only been like 10 years since I got this request lmao. This has actually been done for quite a few days now, I`m just getting really bad at posting. So yeah this is kinda based on the song Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes.  Anyway, enjoy!

Andreas Wellinger Imagine ~ Lost in Japan

I couldn’t wait to see her in Sapporo. My best friend hadbeen working in Japan on her placement year for over six months now and Ihadn’t had an opportunity to see her since then. Ella and I have been friendssince we were kids. We grew up as neighbours and throughout all these years wemanaged to grow such a strong, unbreakable bond. So many times our friendshiphad been put to a test, but no problem matters  when you realise how much you care forsomeone.  

Ella was coming to the competitions in Sapporo, we had itplanned for a few months now, so both of us were extremely excited. Thecompetitions in Russia had just finished for us and until the whole team wouldhead to Japan, it was still quite a few days.

One night, I decided to finally free up the storage on myphone as the constant notifications about it being full, were driving meabsolutely insane. I went straight to my gallery and I deleted a fewscreenshots which I was sure would not longer be needed, but somehow I gotblown into a folder where I kept pictures of all Ella’s and my adventures fromquite a few years back. The smile on my face was present the whole time to thepoint where my cheeks began to hurt and my eyes started tearing up.

My soulmate was thousands of miles away and I couldn’texplain in words how much I missed the sound of her voice live, or how much Iached for her cuddles whenever I felt down. She always knew what I needed andshe tried to give her all to me even from the other side of the world, but asselfish as it sounds, it just wasn’t enough for me. So that’s when I got acrazy idea. I wanted to see her and I wasn’t willing to wait for it any longer.

I clapped my hands, smiling at my laptop screen which confirmedmy flight for tomorrow morning. I would be landing in Tokyo in the evening and Iplanned on making my way straight to the apartment she was staying in. I wasthankful that I sent her some things through the post before, so I knew herexact address. Now, I was only hoping she would be happy to see me earlier thanplanned.

I headed to my coach’s room to inform him about my earlydeparture, when I explained why, Schuster was surprisingly understanding and hetrusted me enough to continue training on my own and then join in with the teamonce they arrive.

After saying a quick goodbye to my teammates, I returned tomy room. There was nothing left for me to do besides packing and booking myselfa hotel in Tokyo, just in case Ella didn’t want me staying with her, which Ihighly doubted, but I’d rather be safe.

That night I fell asleep with a huge smile on my face.Although, it was very difficult for me to fall asleep because of how excited Iwas. I felt like a little kid. I just couldn’t get her off of my mind, nomatter how hard I tried.

The next morning I checked my phone after waking up, justlike I usually do. Seeing the daily ‘good morning Milka’ text on my phonescreen, I smiled. It never failed to put a smile on my face. I typed out aresponse, before setting my phone down and hopping out of bed. I wasn’t amorning person, but today wasn’t just a normal day, so it wasn’t as much of aneffort.

Before I knew it, I was on the plane to Tokyo. Therealisation seemed to hit me all of a sudden and I exhaled a happy sigh. Just afew more hours and I would finally get to see her beautiful smile and hold oneof the most important girls in my life. My head wandered over to thinking abouthow the dark haired girl would react to seeing me. A huge part of me was sureshe would be just as happy as I am, but a small part of me didn’t want to bedisappointed if she wasn’t.

I tilted my head from side to side, trying to crack my achingneck. Let’s just say I didn’t fall asleep in the best position, but that nolonger mattered when my taxi pulled up outside of the building Ella lived in.

I thanked the taxi driver after paying him and I got out ofthe car. I looked up at the tall building, while dragging my suitcase behindme. A million sentences were running through my head that I wanted to say toher as soon as I see her. I glanced around as I stepped into the reception,this place looked much fancier than she explained.

I smiled at the woman behind the reception counter and I justcontinued walking to the lift. I fixed my hair in the mirror, noticing howhappy I already looked just from thinking about Ella. The door opened and Ileft the lift, searching for the right door number.

I stopped walking right in front of Ella’s door. I stared atit for a few seconds before I dared myself to knock. Nothing. My heart sank alittle, why didn’t I think about this. She didn’t have to be at home, I couldbe here waiting for hours. I am such an idiot. I quietly groaned to myselfbefore knocking again.

“Oh crap… One second!” I heard the beautiful voice call outfrom inside the apartment and my heart started beating much faster. Open thegoddamn door Elle, I thought to myself, growing really impatient.

I heard the key turn from the inside and the door was quicklypulled open by my best friend with a towel on her head. She only stuck out herhead, but her jaw fell and her eyes almost popped out when she saw me. All thewords I wanted to say suddenly left my head and I was no longer capable ofspeaking.

The girl rushed over to me, squeals leaving her mouth. Herarms wrapped around my neck so tightly, I was sure she almost pulled a musclein my back. I wasn’t complaining. My arms swiftly wrapped around her waist andI picked her up, holding her as close as possible.

“You can’t just turn up to my door like this Andi!” Ellachocked out, which immediately made me pull back to look at her face. Worryrushed over me as I noticed the tears running down her face. “You don’t knowhow much I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here..” She whispered, snifflingquietly with a huge smile on her face. She pulled me back into a hug and Iclosed my eyes.

I missed this content feeling. “I missed you so much angel,”I whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as I carried her throughthe door. I let her down gently and I went back for my suitcase, closing thedoor behind me. Ella was still staring at me in awe, as if she was worried itwas just her imagination and I would disappear in a second.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, strolling up to me andhugging me once again. It only just came to my attention that she was onlywearing a bathrobe.  

“Interrupting your shower, apparently.” I chuckled, glancingdown at her, she laughed and playfully pinched my side. Her laugh was music tomy ears. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to come here to see you,” Iadmitted after a moment.

“I’m sorry, give me five minutes and we’ll talk,” Ellasmiled, still wiping at her eyes. The girl disappeared into her room and Idecided to take a look around her apartment. I instantly spotted a frame withmultiple pictures inside it, hung up on the wall above the fireplace. A cheesysmile crawled onto my face as I saw most of the pictures were ours, right fromwhen we were little, to just last year. I saw this girl growing into such abeautiful and smart woman.

I flinched at the feeling of something touching my back andshoulder, but I quickly realised it was just Ella, trying to cuddle me frombehind. A small laugh escaped my lips and I let her cuddle into my body.

“I hope I didn’t ruin any plans you had?” I sighed quietly,biting down onto my lip.

The girl looked up at me with an amused expression on herface. “You know fully well that I would cancel any plans for you… That’s if Ihad any in the first place.” She surprised me with her words, positively ofcourse.

Ella pulled away from me and she started messing with herhair, I watched her with a smile, but a part of me felt like her sudden changein behaviour had a reason behind it. I was correct.

“Andi.. Can we go for a walk?” She asked in a soft tone, hereyes pleading me to agree.

I instantly nodded my head. I’d love to see more of Tokyo andI hoped I’d get to find out what was bugging my best friend. “Of course, butare you feeling okay?” I questioned worriedly.

I received a single nod and she smiled. “I think so. We willsee.” She laughed while grabbing her purse. She took my hand and I followed herto the door without any further questions.

The majority of the walk consisted of us talking abouteverything that had happened in the past few months that she had been away for,although, we already knew everything since we talked almost everyday over thephone.

It was already dark, but in my opinion that only made thecity look even more beautiful. We eventually came to a stop at bench when thedark haired girl mentioned that she wanted to sit down for a moment. We sat incomplete silence, which was never an issue as we where both comfortable withit, but Ella kept opening her mouth and closing it like she wanted to saysomething. She nervously rubbed the palms of her hands together and I shook myhead.

“Just say what’s on your mind El.. I may not have seen youfor a while, but I can still tell when you need to get something off of yourchest,” I sighed, looking into her eyes. I could see how difficult it was forher, she looked up at the sky before squeezing her eyes shut.

“So, I was going to tell you this in Sapporo, but you’re herenow and I can’t pretend that things are the same…” She mumbled and I began to grownervous myself. “I’m sorry Andreas, but I’m in love with you,” her voice wasshaky yet somewhat stern.

My mouth fell open and stared at her, completely stunned byher words. “You what?” I eventually muttered.

She was clearly frustrated as she ran her hand roughlythrough her hair before raising to her feet at a rather quick pace, whichalmost made me jump. “Look, I was thinking a lot and I realised that how much Imissed you wasn’t normal. I miss you more than anyone, I think about you morethan anyone, I can’t live without you-,” her words were sweet, but her tonemade it seem like she was yelling the worst abuse at me so I did the firstthing that came to my mind and I would be lying if I said I have never thoughtabout doing this before. I raised to my feet, gently cupped her face into mylarge hands and I kissed her as hard as I could.

[velvetchen]

Dynamic | pt. iv

[ back to masterlist ]

Scenario: Superhero AU Pairing: Chen/Reader Word Count: 4485 Rating: T (warning for language)

Summary: You’re the leading superhero of the city, and you’ve fought Dynamo for years. It’s the way it should be - good vs. evil, hero vs. villain. But what happens when a bigger evil threatens everything?

<< previous part x first part x next part >>

You’re all clustered around the command center of the NSN, called in for an emergency briefing after your showdown with the giant robot. The thing had somehow cut off all the NSN’s communications, so they hadn’t been able to give you any intel until you were already finished with the fight.

But the minute you’d all got back down to the ground after checking out its head, it had completely vanished without a trace.

“We’re calling him the Dragon,” the Director says. “Since he hasn’t announced himself to the public yet.”

“He? You’re sure it's a he?” Whirlwind asks, his face twisted skeptically.

“Yes,” the Director says, pulling up a grainy image of a black-clad figure leaving a building. “That’s him. We’ve been hearing reports of a very talented hero around town, long before today. We only just managed to figure he and the Dragon are one and the same.”

“Well, what's his power?” you ask impatiently.

“Metallokinesis. One of the strongest we’ve seen in decades.” He paused for effect. “He’s stronger than you three combined.”

You swallow. Dynamo had been right. This city needed everything it had to fight this new threat off.

The Director pulls up another image, this one of a face half cast in shadow. It's blurry too, like someone zoomed in from far away to take it. “This photo was taken by assets of the Villains Association,” he says. You can’t make out much other than a hooked nose and heavy eyebrows.

“This is all the information we have?” Seism asks, looking thoughtful.

“As of now, yes. Our spies are working round the clock. We’ve even got hackers tracking bank accounts, camera feeds, everything within a hundred mile radius. He’s got to have got the materials for that thing from somewhere.” The Director pulls up a hologram of the giant Dragon and rotates it with a flick of his wrist. “From your fight yesterday, we gathered that hitting the face didn’t disable it at all. It’s not electronic, it’s being controlled by him. He must have been somewhere nearby, hiding out and watching.”

That thought was scarier than it sounded - this Dragon guy had been watching you the whole time from afar, and nobody had known.

The Director continues. “We’ve decided on a mission to break in and look for possible hideout spots. Rush, you’ll be leading.”

You’re not surprised they pick you - you knew your way out of a fight, and if you needed to get out of there, they wouldn’t need to send backup. “When?”

“The minute we get intel, you’re up.” You nod.

“But what if he attacks again in the meantime?” Seism asks, and the rest of you  chorus an agreement.

“We don’t think he will. Since he hasn’t announced himself - or what side he’s on - we guessed he’s just trying to spread rampant terror. He won’t attack until this hype dies down. Then, when everyone thinks they’re safe again, he’ll strike. So,” finishes the Director, “we have a good window in which to do our reconnaissance.”

As the discussion continues, you turn to your own thoughts, which are loud inside your head. That afternoon’s events. Dynamo, catching you from falling to your death. Dynamo, suddenly serious. There’s no one I’d rather work with than you. This wasn’t your relationship. Sure, you flirted all the time, but that was when he was trying to destroy something and you were trying to thwart him. When you think about Dynamo, it’s without fondness. He’s just there, that’s it. Your antithesis. The bad to your good. The yin to your yang.

This new development confuses you more than anything else.

“Rush?” You snap your attention back to the discussion. “Patrol tonight, don’t forget.”

You groan internally. “Yes, sir.”

 When you finally leave the headquarters, it’s night. Nearly time for your patrol to start. You don’t even bother changing out of your suit, strolling into the nearest fast-food joint and ordering the greasiest, most unhealthy thing on the menu, with a large soda on top of that. The sugar and caffeine would hopefully kickstart you enough to stay awake for a few hours, at least. Then you could get a coffee and that would last you the rest of the way.

Tomorrow was a Monday, and you didn’t have any morning classes, so you’d be able to sleep in comfortably. Thank God for small mercies.

Everyone in the store stares at you point blank as you sit down with your tray, unwrap your burrito, and bite off a very unladylike portion. You ignore them. Your head pounds with the aftereffects of using your ability under pressure, and your feet are sore as hell from the three-inch heels on your boots.

Oh, only women knew the pain of looking good while you kicked ass. Something you and Glamour Girl had bonded over plenty of times.

You finish eating and walk back out, soda in hand, sipping casually as you pull out your phone to text Jennie.

You: hey babe im not coming home 2night Jen: oh yeah? are u with brunch boy Jen: cause if u are, GO GIRL You: nope but i have another date w him on tuesday. ahhh You: im at another friend’s place. studying for that test in gov u know Jen: got it got it You: have breakfast ready for me pls i’m pulling an all nighter Jen: sure babe Jen: love u Jen: ace that test ok You: love u too

You sigh and tuck your phone away. It was going to be a long night.

You almost drag yourself down the street at 5 am the next day. You’re sure you must look like death, even with the mask on. You’d been hoping it would be a quiet night, but you just stopped four muggings, a drug overdose, a date gone awry, and a man from pulling a gun on his family. Then you’d been called in for an emergency and hurried to the scene - all the way across town from where you were - only to have a kid ask you to get his cat out of a tree.

Still, you have one more stop before you get home. You make your way to the end of the street, where the warehouse looms, dingy and small. You swear it’s much bigger on the inside. When you push the loose window in the front wall open, the dark interior stares back at you. Empty.

You’re almost disappointed he’s not here.

You get a notepad and pen out of your backpack - both of them predictably fuschia, obviously you - and scrawl out a note quickly.

Meet me at the Spire, midnight. We’re discussing battle tactics.

♡ Rush

Pausing, you squint at your writing. Then you scratch out the heart, a habit from the hundreds of autographs you’ve signed.

You take advantage of the emptiness of the warehouse to quickly strip out of your costume and into your clothes from yesterday, one of your nicer blouses and a pleated skirt. Then you trudge out, look from side to side to make sure no one’s watching, then start the walk home.

The Spire isn’t it’s official name, but that’s what it’s called in the super world - the tallest building in the city, one hundred fifty floors, a perfect vantage point to watch the downtown area. And a place where no one would question your presence.

You wait, legs dangling off the edge precariously, chin in the cradle of your hands as you watch the cars a thousand feet below zip past like ants. As much as you care for them, as much as you love them - the people of this city are just as insignificant to you as they look from this height. All of them, spread out below you - yet you know nothing. There’s this huge barrier between you and everyone else. Because you’re a super. Because you’re idolized, you’re put on a pedestal. They probably forget you’re a person under that mask, a person with a real life who goes to school and works and goes out with friends and does all the other normal people things they do.

With the exception of being super, of course.

Sighing, you shift your gaze from the ground to the sky. It’s cloudy, overcast, and you can feel your hair frizzing up. Maybe it was a bad idea to pick the tallest building around for miles as your meeting place.

“Hey.” You don’t turn around as Dynamo appears, floating down to sit next to you. Thankfully, he keeps his distance, staying a good foot away from you. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the lashing of the wind. “What’d you want to discuss?”

You finally move to face him, pulling your legs up onto the roof and sitting with your elbows over your knees. “We know a little more about the Dragon now. He’s-”

“I know,” Dynamo cuts you off. “Metallokinesis. Super ultra powerful. A recluse, showed up out of nowhere. That’s what they briefed me at the V.A.” He sighs. “Depressing, huh? And I thought I was the most powerful super in the city.”

“Second only to me,” you cut in, grinning. “But seriously, they didn’t tell you anything else? No secret villain-only info?”

“Nope,” he says. “Half of the villains want to side with him, anyway. They’re suck-ups. So it’s a need-to-know basis. We’re mostly just supposed to stay out of the way.”

“You don’t plan on doing that, do you?” You watch him carefully.

He doesn’t waver. “I teamed up with you for a reason, partner.”

For once, you wish you could see his face. Then you push the thought away, shocked. It was better you kept your lives secret. Even within the heroes, none of you revealed your identity - not even to the NSN. It always got too messy.

You don’t reply to his statement. “They want me to raid his possible hideouts.” He opens his mouth to continue but you keep going. “No intel yet. Apparently he was remotely controlling that thing.”

“I figured as much. Metallokinesis, right? It’s got range.”

“Yeah, so they want me to find him out.” You swallow. “I want you with me.”

His response is instant. “Okay. I’m with you.”

“Not just this one,” you say. “All my missions. We’re a team now, we have to fight together. I’ll talk to my superiors.”

“I...okay.” Now he looks taken aback.

You stand up, brushing off your suit, bracing yourself against the wind. You reach your hand out to help him up. “Please don’t shock me this time.”

He takes it, and the tingles of electricity that shoot up your arm are warm and pleasant, like laughter. When he stands to face you, you notice that he’s actually not that much taller than you. Nor is he particularly bulky or intimidating. He actually has a lean, average physique, fit from the years of supervillain-y activities. Huh. Perception really changed things.

“When do you want to meet next?”

You look away, thinking. “Not tomorrow. Besides, I don’t yet have any info from the NSN,” you say. “We could do a little spying of our own, if you want.”

“Wednesday?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” You move toward the edge of the roof. “Bye, Dynamo.”

Just as you’re about to go, he calls after you. “Rush?”

“Yeah?”

“You can actually call me Chen. If you want.”

Your lips quirk into a small smile - at the same time your heart rate picks up. “That isn’t your real name, is it?”

He laughs. “No. But it’s the name I picked for myself when I first decided I wanted to be a supervillain. I like it better than Dynamo.”

Your smile widens. “It suits you. See you on Wednesday, Chen.” Then with a running start, you dive off the edge of the roof, plummeting down, the wind on your face like a thousand tons of force. With a loud whoop, you fall faster and faster, until you’re almost all the way down and then suddenly you blink - and you’re safely on the ground.

Sometimes, having an ability was seriously great.

Paragon was a borderline indie bar/club/thing that you’d gone to often, but not often enough to be familiar with. Today it’s packed. For a Tuesday, that’s pretty incredible. The tables are all crowded, the floor in between filled with people talking to each other and dancing in the music that plays lightly over the speakers. The stage, however, is still empty.

You pull out your phone.

You: im so anxious. there’s so many people here Jen: on a tuesday??? wowwww You: yeah i wonder if they’re all here for him though You: because if they are??? You: i literally will not be able to handle it Jen: ;) You: jennnnnnn come on

When she doesn’t reply, you sigh and put your phone away. Just in time, too. The whole crowd goes strangely quiet as a light flicks on stage, and then a figure is walking out and standing at the single mic. He takes a minute to fix it up, tapping and mouthing something to someone backstage, who finally gives a thumbs-up.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” he says. A cheer goes up and you’re surprised when you even hear a couple I-love-yous screamed out. “I’m Jongdae and I’ll be your entertainment. Have a wonderful evening.”

Music starts up immediately, a strong electronic and jazz sort of fusion that has everyone drawn in by the energy. And then he starts singing and holy shit, you’ve never heard anything like it before. His is the most lively voice, warm in timbre and perfect in pitch. You know enough about music to tell his vocal technique is near perfect.

It’s obvious why the crowd’s so huge. He’s something else.

You spend the whole one hour show with your mouth slightly open, as he goes from song to song and shows off his amazing repertoire. From ballads to 80’s pop hits to electronic, he can pretty much sing anything. Near the end of the show you realize you’ve somehow made it to the front of the crowd. Here the press of people cheering and dancing is more than ever, and you just stand there, entranced.

It’s more than disappointing when he finishes up for the night and thanks everyone, waving enthusiastically as he disappears backstage. From there the people start to disperse, but there’s still a lot of people in the building for a Tuesday.

You decide to go looking for him.

Winding through the crowd, you skirt along the far wall and towards the door you saw him go through earlier. “Excuse me,” you mutter, nearly crashing into someone with a tray of drinks. Finally you make it, and even though the door is closed, you hold your breath and knock, thrice.

When no one opens up, you figure they must not hear you above the blaring music and knock again, harder this time.

The door swings open to reveal a scary-looking bouncer. You’re thrown off for a minute, but regain your confidence. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you nearly yell. “Jongdae invited me.”

The bouncer guy eyes you up and down, then closes the door. You hear someone - Jongdae? - yell loudly from inside, then the door opens again and you’re ushered in quickly.

“Y/N,” Jongdae says, arms outstretched from his perch on a retro orange sofa. “You made it! I didn’t think you would.”

You shift on your feet, suddenly awkward. “Well, I did promise.”

He chuckles and pats the seat next to him. “Sit down. Want a drink?” You look at the table next to him, with a half empty bottle of wine, and realize he’s probably had a few drinks already. Unsure, you sit next to him on the sofa and take the glass he hands you.

“So, how’d you like it?” he wiggles his brows. The polite, simple Jongdae from your previous meetings seems to be gone; tipsy from alcohol and the high of his performance, he’s a lot more bold. A sheen of sweat still shines on his forehead, and his eyes spark as he looks at you.

“I loved it,” you try not to gush, but he must see it. “It was - incredible. You’re incredible.” Despite yourself, you blush.

“Thanks,” he says, a self-satisfied grin on his face as he leans back. “It means a lot more coming from you.” He winks. Your cheeks grow even hotter.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He takes a sip of his drink. “Only if you want me to be.”

You smirk back, feeling a little shot of confidence, your alter ego, come seeping in. “Well, in that case-” you reach out and put your hand on his arm “-please continue.”

He raises his eyebrow, obviously pleasantly surprised by your change in personality, but the drink is starting to hit your nerves and you only feel your adrenaline go up. “And what if I skip the flirting and go straight to propositioning you?”

“Try and see.”

His voice is close to your ear, breath warm on your skin. “How about we don’t go for dinner and you come over instead.”

“I don't know, don't you think it's a little soon for that?” Are you just imagining it, or are his lips on your neck? Blushing again, you feel your confidence waver for a minute. But then he’s really kissing you, and you're the one pulling him up from the sofa and towards the door.

He’s laughing as you drag him along. “Demanding, aren't we?” He still comes with you though, stepping out of the back of the building into a small alley.

“Which way?” you ask, looking left and right.

He just grins and pulls you down the alley, stopping in front of a monstrous-looking motorbike with yellow lightning bolt accents.

“Wow, I didn't peg you for a motorbike guy,” you say, a little anxious, but you take the helmet he gives you nevertheless. You climb on behind him, grasping around him loosely as the engine comes to life, and then fear overtakes your uncertainty and you’re clinging on to him for dear life, burying your face in his jacketed shoulder. He smells like standard men’s shower gel and vanilla and slightly like sweat - a scent that’s both comforting and exciting. Eventually, you gain the courage to watch your surroundings as you pass the downtown area and into an area with numerous apartment buildings.

“Wait, I thought you-”

“That’s my brother's place,” he cuts in. “I have my own.” You're both relieved and newly anxious that there won't be anyone else at his place.

Not that you were going to do anything. It would just complicate things. You’d had one-night-stands before - and they were one night stands because you snuck away right after. Usually your partner was too drunk to remember you and probably passed you off as a dream or someone else.

But it was different now, because you liked Jongdae. You knew him. Even with your limited time together, you could feel the beginnings of a bad crush, and even though you were willing to see where it went, the thought of a relationship still scared the crap out of you.

You had second thoughts suddenly. How would you explain it if you needed to leave this time? What if he asked too many questions, or rummaged in your bag, or you got too drunk and spilled your biggest secret? You almost grip his shoulders and ask him to turn around - just as you pull up in front of a fancy looking apartment building.

He parks. There’s no turning back now. “This is the place?”

“This is the place.” He hops off and then holds out his hand for you to take. As always, there are those familiar tingles dancing up and down your skin. You pull back your hand quickly, hoping it didn't look like you were being rude. Thankfully he doesn't seem to think so, and puts his hands in his pockets, humming a song from earlier that night as you begin to walk.

The door unlocks smoothly. He switches on the lights and you look around. Jongdae’s apartment is less personal than you expected it to be. It's also a lot more expensive than you expected it to be - everything is clean and modern, with decorative touches that have the hand of a professional and not a twenty-something guy who sings at bars. There are pictures of him and his family, but strategically arranged across the wall. His fridge has touristy-looking magnets that hold up printed out recipes and some scrawled notes.

He locks the door behind you. “I haven’t been spending much time here, so don't be surprised if you see dust or a stray sock or something,” he says, scratching the back of his head. Like he's nervous. You find it oddly cute. “Um, make yourself at home. I’ll see if I have anything to eat.”

You wander into his living room, which is more of the same. There are a few more photos of people who must be his parents and brother, a signed photo of him singing at another club, skin turned blue by the lights. You pick it up and look at it - study the electricity in his eyes and how alive he seems. So this is who he is.

“Is ramen okay?” he calls from the kitchen.

“I don't mind,” you call back as you put the photo back. There are some knickknacks: several small cat plushies, a jar full of coins and a handwritten note from someone named Kim Minseok, whom you guessed was Jongdae’s brother.

Jongdae enters the kitchen, two cups of ramen in both hands and a wine bottle tucked under his arm. He sets them down on the coffee table and doubles back for a couple of glasses. “Ramen and wine,” he says. “I know, I'm the epitome of hospitality.”

You giggle and take your share. “Thanks.” It's the instant stuff, but you're hungry and it tastes good.

Your teasing mood from earlier is gone, worn away by the ride here and the calm aura of his apartment. Right now, you just want to talk, lulled by the wine and the comfortable silence in between you as you eat.

You fumble for a place to start, going for an easy opening. “So, besides singing and eating brunch, what do you like to do?”

“Well, considering you just summed up my life in two activities, I’d say not much else,” he grins. “But Y/N, I barely know about you. What do you like to do?”

Usually you have a basic answer about your job ready to go, but this time you feel like you should be honest. Well, as honest as you can. “I’m actually a bit of a thrill-seeker,” you say tentatively. “I trained in mixed martial arts for a long time, actually. I like heights and horror movies and I have three tattoos.”

Jongdae actually looks impressed. “I would not have guessed that about you. I’m kind of proud I managed to scare you with my motorbike.”

“Surprisingly I've never been on one before,” you say. “But I really liked it. I’d love to go again.”

“Anything else you haven't done?” His eyebrows rose. “I’m not asking for the sake of future dates.”

“I’ve never been skydiving, for all my love of heights. You?”

“I’ve never actually sung in front of my parents. I think about that a lot.”

“Oh?” you finish up your noodles. “Why not?”

“Well, we're not really on good terms,” he says, looking down at his bowl. “I moved out early, because they didn’t approve of me trying to drop out of school. I started singing when I was sixteen, a few months after I moved in with my brother. So yeah. I haven't talked to them since then.”

“That’s kind of sad,” you say quietly. Your free hand inches across the space between you. “Why did you want to drop out of school, though?”

He shrugs. “I thought I had better things to do. Turns out they were just big dreams. I went back to school and graduated a year late.”

“What kind of things?” Against your will, your fingers have twined with his.

He smiles softly. “That’s a story for another time,” he says. “If you stick around long enough.”

“I plan on it.”

His grin widens. “Can I kiss you?”

“You already did.”

“Yes, but I didn't ask first that time.”

The corners of your mouth turn up. “Okay.”

He leans forward, excruciatingly slow. You close your eyes and swallow. It's not your second kiss, not even your twentieth, but it feels intimate and vulnerable in a completely different way. You actually care what he thinks, what he sees when he looks at you.

His lips touch yours, and you forget about the liabilities.

You wake, unsteady, in a room that's not your own. The covers are kicked off halfway and the other side of the bed is cold. You catch your reflection in the mirror across from you. You look exhausted, and there are a couple of wine-purple marks on your neck. Panic hits, sudden and familiar.

Shit. Did I -

You tiptoe out of the room cautiously. Jongdae is awake; you can hear him humming as he shuffles around the kitchen. Wary, you keep moving forward until he sees you and his face lights up.

“Good morning, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting you to wake up anytime soon. You sleep like the dead.”

“Good morning,” you return, uncertainly. “Jongdae, did we, you know…I don't remember.”

“Don't worry, nothing happened,” he says, grabbing eggs out of the fridge. “Do you like them scrambled or fried?”

“Fried, please,” you say, leaning hesitantly on the counter.

“Right. We were talking and you fell asleep on me a couple times. You looked pretty tired, so I carried you to the bed.” He looks up at you, a reassuring smile on his face. “So yeah, nothing happened.”

Relief spills through you, evident on your face. “Good,” you say, and then quickly rectify, “I mean - I was drunk-”

“No offense taken,” he laughs. You’re quiet as he cracks the eggs into a pan, working a little clumsily, but singing absently as he does so. You close your eyes and listen to the honeyed sound of his voice, a song you’ve never heard before but one that still feels familiar nevertheless.

With a pang, you realize that you could get used to this. 

And that terrifies you.

All of a sudden you want to get out of here. You clam up again, looking for an opening to leave - but he’s turning to you with a plate in either hand and the most blinding smile on his face, and you can’t help but stay a little longer.

a/n this is p long compared to what i usually write i’m actually surprised ? also is anyone else swooning over jongdae bc i am wow falling for your own character why dont you get an actual life mer