#you know i accidently double assigned someone

[hoshinokaabi-secretsanta]

YEEEEEAAAAAA ONE MORE DAY ONE MORE DAY ONE MORE DAY ONE MORE DAY

[ghostofskywalker]

May I please request something where the (gn preferably) reader breaks their glasses during a mission so tech makes them a pair of goggles like his?

anon this is actually the cutest idea ever and as someone whose eyesight is terrible without my contacts (i used to wear glasses but not as much anymore) i understand the struggle <3

words: 2,454

summary: when an accident on the marauder leaves you without your glasses for an unknown period of time, tech takes matters into his own hands and makes you a replacement pair of goggles that match his own.

clone troopers masterlist

Seeing Double

“Kriff!” you swore slightly louder than you originally wanted to, but in your defense, this situation warranted it.

“Everything okay?” Hunter’s voice echoed from the device on your wrist, and it was at that point that you realized you had apparently forgotten to mute yourself on the comms, so the entire squad had just heard your outburst.

“Yeah, just that my glasses broke,” you said, trying to find collect the pieces from the dashboard of the Marauder. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that it was currently nighttime and you needed them to see where you were going.

“Can you still steer the ship?’ Echo’s voice came through the device next. “We’re going to need a pickup soon.”

You weren’t too confident about your abilities at this point, but you also couldn’t let the team down. “It’ll be fine for a little while, but once you get back someone else needs to handle the controls.”

“Alright, as long as you don’t need one of us to go back there now.”

That was the last thing you wanted, because you were still a new member of the team and you definitely didn’t want them to think you weren’t capable. “No, just let me know when and where you need to be picked up from.”

The communication device went silent not long after that, and you were left to sit down in the pilot’s seat and attempt to repair your glasses. The actual lenses themselves seemed to still be intact, but one of the supports that rested behind your ear had come off (due to the fact that they had fallen to the floor and you stepped on the one side before you realized what had happened). But there was one flaw when it came to attempting to appraise the damage, and that was the fact that when they weren’t on your face, you couldn’t see all that well.

You weren’t blind per se (they had let you into the GAR after looking at your eye charts and seeing the glasses you wore every day), but you certainly didn’t see the world in high resolution when you didn’t have the lenses on your face. You had previously considered those tiny clear things that you saw friends put into their eyes, that would completely negate the need for you to wear glasses, but at the same time the idea of putting your fingers too close to your eye was a little bit nerve wracking (you knew the process certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart).

And you hadn’t experienced any issues with your glasses interfering with your work so far, or at least, not until now. Clone Force 99 had accepted you with open arms (well, it had taken a while in the case of one particularly grumpy sniper) when you had been assigned to them. Your technical title was “medic,” although you were also well-versed in mechanics and was qualified enough to repair the ship if necessary. You sometimes wondered if that acceptance had something to do with the fact that one of the members of the squad also wore lenses of some kind on his face, and if was, you were grateful to Tech.

If asked, you would probably cite Tech as your favorite member of the squad, and it wasn’t just because of your shared facial accessory. Even if you didn’t know whether or not his goggles were prescription or he just simply wore them for convenience, the two of you got along fairly well, which was a surprise because you were essentially assigned to them to do some of Tech’s job. But even though others might have seen you as a threat, you and the squad’s resident genius worked well together.

Bringing your focus back to the situation at hand, you realized that there was going to be no way to reattach the arm of your glasses without some kind of bonding agent (due to the place that the material had fractured and split apart when you stepped on it), and you gently pulled them up to your face. They certainly drooped on the side that had no support, but you would be able to see well enough to fly the ship for a few minutes until someone else could take over.

And it was a good thing that you could see at all, because the batch radioed in just a few minutes later, sending you a set of coordinates and telling you to step on it because they had met some hostiles.

Getting in the air was the easy part, but a flying animal that came out of nowhere shocked you to the point where you had to stop short, and your glasses came flying off your head. There was nothing you could do but watch as they clattered down the dashboard of the ship and once again fell and skittered across the floor, so far out of your reach that you knew there was no chance you could recover them before you had to move again. Instead, you would be flying blind (in the literal sense of the expression).

You were sure that the rest of the squad could tell that something was up when they saw the ship arrive at the coordinates, flying slightly tilted and having stopped short before you extended the ramp for them to get in. “Can someone come up here and take the controls?” you called out.

No one answered, but soon footsteps approached the cockpit and you turned around to see Tech walking towards you with his helmet under his arm. You stood up to greet him, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of transparisteel breaking filled the space, and the two of you looked down in horror as Tech lifted up his boot slightly to reveal your glasses, now completely shattered beyond repair. “Oh my,” he said as he looked at the carnage on the floor. “I deeply apologize, I did not know that was there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still in some form of shock, but you didn’t want to make Tech feel bad over something he couldn’t control. “It wasn’t your fault, we’ll just need to put in an order with the Republic for some new glasses the next time we reach out to them.”

“That may be quite a while,” Tech responded, having reached down to collect the bent and disfigured remains of the glasses frame off the floor. “I may be able to-”

“Tech,” you cut him off gently, and he looked up at you as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll be able to survive without them for a little while.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up. “In the meantime, you should rest. The assignment was a success and I will fly the ship until we stop for fuel or the next mission objective comes in.”

You just nodded and headed off to the bunks. You knew that sometimes if you went for a while without your glasses it could lead to headaches as your eyes strained to perform their usual function, so you wanted to avoid that as much as you possibly could (especially if you weren’t going to get new ones for a while). And as you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Gonky moving across the ship in the background, you really hoped that you’d be able to contact the Republic soon.

***

As he watched you leave the room, Tech couldn’t help but feel bad. You had assured him that none of this was his fault and that you weren’t angry at him, but he also knew how stressful it was to be living a life without corrective lenses when your eyesight was not that good. He had seen your glasses before and guessed that your level of nearsightedness was similar to his, and he would never want to spend any amount of time without his goggles, let alone an uncertain and extended period of it. He cleaned the small pile of debris off the floor and placed them in a small container once the ship had entered hyperspace, and for a while he just watched the blue streaks pass him by.

And it was as he watched out through the windshield of the ship that he had an idea.

His goggles were a thing of his own creation, and sometimes different parts needed replacing. Because of that, he had began keeping a small box of parts and pieces on the ship, with enough to make at least two other sets (just in case his primary pair was ruined beyond repair). If your prescription was similar to his, you might be able to wear a matching pair of goggles for a while, or at least until they could contact the Republic and order new glasses for you.

Right as he got up from the pilot’s seat, Hunter stepped into the cockpit. “Oh good, I was just about to call for you,” Tech said. “Can you watch the ship for a little while? I have something urgent to attend to.”

Hunter just nodded, and Tech was thankful that his brother didn’t ask too many questions so he couldn’t be slowed down. He wanted to have them ready for you by the time he next saw you, this way you didn’t have to go too long without any kind of visual aid.

He found the box of parts under his bunk, and after checking to make sure you were asleep in yours, he got to work, pulling the curtain around his cot to keep some privacy about what he was doing.

The shattered pieces of your original lenses turned out to be of some use to him, because he was able to calibrate the goggles to perfectly match your needs. It was much easier than he originally thought it might be, and by the time he could hear movement from outside his bunk, he was just putting the finishing touches on the goggles.

Wondering whether it was you or Wrecker that had woken up, he poked his head out to see you yawn and stretch. Quietly calling your name as to not startle you, Tech got out of bed and beckoned at you to follow him. “Is everything okay?” you asked, blinking as a brighter part of the ship came into view, and Tech quickly moved the hand that was holding the goggles behind his back so you couldn’t see what they were.

“I still feel terrible about your glasses,” he said. You opened your mouth (no doubt to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault), but he held up one of his hands to stop you and the other with the pair of newly constructed goggles in it. “And since I know the repercussions of spending extended periods of time without them, I made you something. I apologize if it is not a style you like, but I only had the materials to reconstruct my goggles and I figured it was better than nothing.”

You were silent as you took the goggles from his outstretched hand, but from the smile on your face, Tech knew that you weren’t spurning his gift. “Thank you,” you eventually said as you placed them on your face. “I love them.”

“I was able to use my scanner to match and calibrate this pair to the same level of magnification as your glasses,” he said.

You nodded, looking around the ship. “Thank you so much Tech. I really can’t believe you would do something like this, I’m so grateful.”

Tech went to respond, but you pulled him into a hug before he could get any words out. “You are very welcome,” he eventually managed to say.

“If you ever need anything from me,” you said. “Please don’t hesitate-”

He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “I don’t want you to think that you are somehow in debt to me,” he said. “I did this because I wanted to help you, not because I wanted to gain something.”

For a fleeting moment, you looked like you were going to cry, and Tech’s eyes widened as you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, your goggles knocking slightly against his. “I know,” you said. “But still, I want to thank you somehow. Maybe if we can get away from your brothers, I can take you out to dinner the next time we’re on Coruscant?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Those words were accompanied by a surprised (and hopeful) expression. He had of course taken you in as a member of the team, but it had recently been more apparent to him that how he felt about you was different than how he felt towards other people. He had always hoped that you felt the same way, but was never sure how to broach the topic.

“Yes,” you said, a smile on your face. “Are you accepting?”

“Yes.”

Tech stared at you for a moment, and you stared right back. He started to lean in, and you mirrored his movements. He was just finishing up calculations on how to best kiss you without bumping either set of goggles when he heard footsteps approaching, and he instinctively pulled back.

You apparently had the same idea, and the two of you turned in shock to stare at Hunter, who had just stepped out of the cockpit and had an exasperated look on his face. Whatever hope Tech had of keeping this new relationship development a secret was now completely dead, because with Hunter’s enhanced hearing he must have been able to hear everything before this moment.

And with the two of you wearing both matching expressions and goggles, it must have been a sight to behold for his brother. Hunter opened his mouth, but then closed it before taking a breath. “I’m going to take a nap,” is what he eventually settled on. “Can you two watch the cockpit?”

Tech was halfway through a confirmation of Hunter’s request before his brother had walked completely past them to disappear in the direction of the bunks, and right as he disappeared you quickly leaned in to place a soft (and far too quick, in his opinion) kiss on Tech’s lips.

The cockpit offered a better view anyway, and although it wasn’t completely shielded from his brothers, it was much more private than just standing in the middle of the ship. They didn’t have a lot of time before everyone else woke up and their little secret spread like wildfire through the ship, and Tech wanted to make the most of the peace and quiet.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[banoonagrams]

Sandy Waters — Chapter One

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Summary: The Jedi Council is absolutely done with the feud occurring between you and Anakin Skywalker. So, what do they do? They pair the two of you up on an important mission. But what they really did is force two people who have hated each other for years into close proximity with one another. For several days. Alone. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Anakin being his own beautifully annoying self

You hold your breath as the doors into the Council room move smoothly into the wall, granting you entry for your meeting with your superiors that you had hurriedly scheduled upon seeing who was joining you for one of the most trying missions along the course of your Jedi career. 

“Why is it that you wish to speak to us? I can feel the tension in your Force signature,” Plo Koon says to you, a neutral but concerned look in his eyes.

“I’d like to speak of my partner that has been placed with me for my upcoming assignment, Skywalker.” You hide the sweat that’s beginning to form on your hands by placing them inside of the sleeves of your dark robes.

“Speak what about him, will you?” Yoda inquires, leaning on his cane in an intrigued manner while sitting in his thoroughly cushioned chair.

“Of us being paired together on the assignment in regards to the thug lord on Hosnian Prime.”

“If you are experiencing any qualms, know now that your pairing with Skywalker was no accident.” Windu’s voice had a slight edge to it, which wasn’t unusual. What surprised you was his sudden exclamation that you and Skywalker were put together intentionally, as you had thought that the members knew of your rivalry with the smug faced man.

“I— If I may ask, why would you purposefully put us in the same room as each other?” You were utterly bewildered, your brow raised in surprise. The council must be a lot less wise than you had thought they were.

“Are you questioning our methods?” Dank farrik, this was already going wrong.

“Oh, no! Of course not, Master Windu. I was just going to suggest that I could perhaps be traded into a different… grouping, of sorts? I wholeheartedly think that the mission would run much smoother.” Windu sighs, pinching his nose disappointedly.

“This is not a discussion, young padawan,” he states, stoic as ever and already knowing how this meeting would end.

“I understand, Master, but I truly don’t think that this mission will go as well as it could be if I was paired with someone else—“

“As a Jedi, you do know that peace and balance are important throughout the galaxy, and are an important way of life for those inside of the Order, yes?”

“Yes, completely. But—“

“So then you understand that you need to make peace with Skywalker.”

Peace with him? He had become even more insufferable after he had been denied the rank of master Jedi. Of course, you wouldn’t deny that the look on his face after the fact was absolutely priceless, but the aftershocks of his rejection were starting to get to you. Every minuscule detail about him that had annoyed you previously had practically doubled in his efforts to prove himself to the rest of the Council, his need for praise in full throttle.

The room had gone quiet, something you were all too familiar with when it meant that Windu and the rest of the Council were obviously done speaking with you. You lower your head, the conclusion of your meeting going completely different than you had anticipated. Skywalker was an ignorant piece of bantha fodder that you could barely tolerate being around, much less stuck in a tiny ship with for a few days. With a dissatisfied sense of defeat, you turn the other direction to walk out of the sliding doors to begin to pack the few belongings you would need for your mission, but not before hearing something else from the Council.

“The two of you may be more similar than you think. Skywalker had the same conversation with us minutes before you came in.”

Son of a bitch. He had beat you to it. What were you thinking? Of course he had. His obnoxious obsession with having to be first at everything probably had him sprinting here to arrive before you.

“Do try to reconcile with Skywalker. The two of you could achieve great things if you simply worked with one another.” Yeah right. As if that ape in robes would ever be capable of doing anything related to working in a team.

When you were younger, everything you did seemed to be a competition to him. In what was supposed to be a simple sparring match, he’d almost knocked you out, leaving you with a nasty lump on your head and a trip to the infirmary. When you were researching a topic for a mission that you had found out about on your own and could potentially score you some points with the Order, you found him in the library, already claiming that it was all his idea to an eons-old librarian there. With the amount of gossip she partook in every day, the tale of ‘Anakin’s brilliant research’ was already being spoken of in all corners of the temple. On that day, you had to meditate in your room for over two hours straight just so that you wouldn’t wring his bronzed little neck.

And now, on the mission that could potentially bring you the closest you’ve ever been to becoming a Jedi Master, he was going to be a thorn at your side the entire time. For many padawans, the style of mission that would determine whether they would be promoted normally included being grouped with another student for a job increasingly important than any of their previous solo ones. These could go from assignments such as rescuing an ally political figure, being judged on how well you handled said assignment, to how you both react in a tense public situation, testing your patience and morals. You know for a fact that Skywalker will be incredibly overeager on every step of this mission in order to make himself look good, his hurt pride letting him go leaps and bounds worse in a team-player situation. Maker, your patience truly was being tested in any direction you turned.

You storm your way over to the dormitories, wanting to get this mission over and done with as soon as possible, heading through the halls with your mind just about boiling over. You’re about to open the door into your room when, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a disgustingly familiar figure heading down the corridor. Narrowing your eyes and closing the difference between you two, you immediately accuse him of the first inconvenience that you can think of, because he wholeheartedly deserved it.

“You idiot! I would have been able to convince them to seperate us if you hadn’t gone in there first and mucked everything up.” With the intensity of how hard Skywalker rolls his eyes, you’d think they’d drop back into his skull. He crosses his arms defensively, his Nerf leather vest  squeaking in the process, before speaking.

“I had them debating among themselves when I left, so you must have made such a terrible speech that this nightmare,” he beckons back and forth between you both in a derogatory fashion, “is happening. Oh, and good evening to you, too, by the way.” His voice was practically oozing with sarcasm.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say, seeing right through his little plastic greeting.

“My apologies for being sociable, which is a skill I know that I’ve mastered more than someone I know.”

“You’re not being sociable, you’re just being an ass, and you know it,” you say, already completely done with him for the day after two minutes of being around him. “You’re obviously just trying to practice your holier than thou routine after you were oh so sadly denied the rank of Master. They’ll see right through it too, y’know.”

“See? This is what I mean. Are you capable of any other setting besides ‘snarky,‘ or is that the only emotion that you have?” He shifts his weight to one leg. “And I’m definitely going to be jumping up in rank soon enough, young one.”

“We’re practically the same age.”

“There’s that snark again,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and balling your fists into tight, angry and potentially destructive balls at your side, screaming internally before you open your eyes again, a smile plastered onto your face.

“You know what? I don’t have to deal with this right now,” you say, shaking your head and rubbing your fingers on your temples annoyedly. “I’m going to try and make the most of what’s left of today before I have to withstand you after we take off tomorrow.”

You turn around and take another step into your doorway, the whoosh of it opening making the hair on your head move the slightest amount. The chilly, relaxing air helped to cool off some of the steam coming out of your ears.

“That might be the first good idea you’ve had since I met you.” The unfounded, arrogant little smile on his mouth that he’s already used a hundred times this month is making its appearance yet again. He’s just asking for a blaster bolt straight in the kybers, isn’t he? You hope he can see the irritation in your body language as you stiffly turn towards him one last time.

“I’ll see you on the ship, laser brain. Until then, screw you.” He tries to say something, but you put a hand in front of his face, shushing him. “Oh, and at least try to read the holo pad on the dealer we’re after, if you even know how to, yeah? I’m trying to actually get promoted, unlike someone I know.”

You don’t even wait to gauge what his response is, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself that you had just spun his own words back on him. You turn right around and step through your door, closing it directly in his irritating face and stubbornly not opening it again until morning at breakfast time.

Unfortunately for you, shutting the door like this caused you to miss the chance to see him slowly trudging in the other direction. He was muttering under his breath some laughably weak comebacks to respond to you with, such as “Of course I know how to read, you… nutcase” and “No, you’re the one that has a laser brain,” ultimately giving up his attempts at the end of the hallway and continuing to the training room to get some extra practice in before tomorrow’s vital outing.

If you’d like to continue reading, head on over to the story on AO3 or check out Chapter Two here on Tumblr!

A/N: I’m finally stepping into the Tumblr arena for the first time (tentatively, may I add)! We’re entering some uncharted territories here, lads. Anakin is so rude I swear, but DAMN if I don’t want to fuck the life out of him. Unfortunately, sweet, gorgeous, amazing little Padmé doesn’t exist in this universe, but hey, that gives us all the more time to absolutely RUIN Anakin.

Anyways, I hope Tumblr enjoys this as much I as I enjoy writing it :)

[foxesfantasys]

Hello I am still alive and writing! I apologise that this chapter took a while longer than the other two, I’ve been quite busy these last few weeks. Happy holidays everyone and I hope you enjoy!

Double Trouble AU: Separation Together

Chapter 3/3: The Halfa

Several weeks had passed before he was allowed to return to Casper High. His friends had visited whenever they could, bringing stacks of work and notes with them each time. They didn’t ever stay for long, and he isn’t sure if it’s because they feel guilty for what happened.

They seem to stay for longer when the ghost is out of sight, hidden or just keeping his distance, still not for very long but more than usual. It makes him… Angry? Or, is he sad? Both. Danny thinks it makes him sad and angry at once when his friends avoid the ghost.

He isn’t sure which half of him is feeling each.

Danny did his best to complete as many assignments as possible while recovering, that way he won’t have fallen too far behind once he returned. In the end, he’s pretty sure they didn’t do very well on any of it, he’s never been very smart in the academic sense.

The more he recovered the less they settled, there was less need to be close. He is aware that Danny isn’t really a one anymore, that he is only a one when the ghost and the human need to be close. But that is not to say Danny only exists when they settle, just this version of Danny.

His memories are strange now, coherent but strange. The clearest are when he is a one but he can remember what the ghost and the human have seen as well, so long as they’re willing to share. It’s an interesting experience to have two sets of memories for the same moment.

This does, however, mean he knows exactly how they ended up in their current situation.

The ghost couldn’t return to Casper High like the human could, but they knew leaving him alone in the Fenton household was out of the question. So although he couldn’t return in the same way, he still followed beside his human invisibly.

It wasn’t a perfect solution obviously, there’s only so long a ghost can remain invisible without a break, especially a young and inexperienced one like himself. With all the practice the ghost had done he could comfortably remain invisible for just over an hour. 1 hour 3 minutes and 47 seconds to be exact. Yes, they had timed it.

So whenever they could, his two halves had ducked into a cleaning closet or bathroom stall to give the ghost a short break. They'd been lucky so far, but knew eventually they’d need an alternative in case there was no chance for a break.

When lunch hour finally arrived and the human was greeted with a green abomination of a meal, suffice to say the ghost was no longer concerned with his lack of appetite. Danny can still taste the awful stuff burning through his taste buds.

Sam had seemed so proud of convincing the school to try this new menu, meanwhile Tucker was understandably upset by this new meatless diet. Personally Danny had no preference when it came to school lunch, the food was never good whether it contained meat or not.

Both his halves had been glad to see his friends again, even if they were bickering it was nice to get back a semblance of normalcy.

He hadn’t decided if he should interfere or not before it turned out he didn’t need to.

Because then came the screaming.

Someone in the kitchens it turned out. An accident with some hot oil, it had burned half their arm. Fenton hadn’t got to see it himself, didn’t think he’d have really wanted to even if he got the chance, but word travels fast in a school full of bored teenagers. Supposedly it had been a grotesque sight, bubbling and blistered everywhere, seared all the way up the forearm.

The human had never seen the wound himself, but Danny could still remember the imagined recreation that his human halfs mind made from the chatter of his schoolmates.

Of course the person in question was rushed away and taken good care of, but he remembers the chill the human had felt the whole time. It had been unnatural, like a looming cloud, an omen that this wouldn’t be the end. He had ignored it at the time, shrugged it off as a draft, or just shock.

And then the next day there was another accident. A fire this time, in the kitchens just like before. Not a big one, it stayed contained to the kitchens, something the human had thought very lucky at the time.

That same foreboding chill filled the air despite the flames, enough that the human was sure he could see his breath mixing with the smoke.

Somehow nobody was hurt too badly, only some minor smoke inhalation. School ended early that day. And it stayed closed for a few days to fix any damage. Apparently although the food is awful, even the school faculty wouldn’t leave the kids without lunch. Who knew.

None of the students had been allowed to go home on their own, parental supervision had been deemed necessary before leaving the grounds. “For safety,” they had said. “In case you get any side effects from the smoke.”

Now, they had understood why the faculty would want their parents to escort them all home. They really did. But when your parents are the infamously ghost obsessed Fentons, they couldn’t help but dread their arrival. Danny is still somewhat surprised that the Casper High faculty handled the whole situation so professionally.

Later he asked his friends, his family, nobody else had noticed a chill that day, even the ghost. But Phantom is naturally cold now, so he supposes it would make sense that he didn’t notice any difference.

The human had decided he was just imagining things, decided to start wearing more layers since he’s apparently more sensitive to the cold now.

And he had thought that was the end of it, a few unfortunate accidents at school and him needing to wear a few extra layers to keep away the cold. The following few days had been completely normal, good even. Fenton had thought once Casper High opened up again everything would continue to be normal.

Then that day, today, came around the corner like the universe's personal spite filled slap in the face to Danny, both of them.

Once again lunch hour rolled around, but this time when the human felt that foreboding chill he happened to look towards the kitchens. Danny remembers it felt like his eyes had been pulled to a very specific spot, something just wasn’t right and he knew, but it wasn’t clear what it was or how he knew it was wrong.

He had watched that spot for several moments, the ghost's green glowing eyes joining his stare while hidden away with invisibility.

Danny watched.

They waited.

They saw.

Danny saw the pointy green ears and red piercing eyes, the burns and blisters and singes. It looked as if the entire right side of the face and neck had been burned till it melted. In some places it was worse than others, the least burned areas were near the top and bottom where it looked like only clothes had been singed, while the worst was the central area where the mouth should have been. Whatever accident had befallen this person left sharp pointed teeth and dark green gums visible behind the melted strings of flesh that had once been a mouth, surrounded by bubbling blisters and dark burn scars.

He couldn’t help but cringe at what he saw. And what he saw was the ghost of a lunch lady.

What came next is a messy blur of ghost instinct and human panic. Even now that they have settled there is a constant hum of Intruder Intruder Intruder Protect Get Her Out Get Away Mine Protect-

It’s loud and confusing and he wants to follow. Wants to hiss and challenge because this is my home and these are my friends, but he knows that’s only coming from his ghost half. He also knows that his ghost half is just as overwhelmed by these feelings he can’t control.

“It’s dangerous, we should warn everyone and get away quickly before it starts attacking,” his human half declared aloud. But Danny didn’t move yet.

“But it could still hurt people,” his ghost half argued. “Even if everyone gets out of the cafeteria today it will still be here tomorrow and the day after! Or worse, it could end up somewhere else with even more people.”

Dread welled up at the thought of the amount of people who could get hurt, completely oblivious to the ghostly presence, because why would they worry about something that isn’t real. Then he remembers the fire and the oil and guilt adds to the ocean of emotions built up in Danny’s chest.

If only he had realized what was happening sooner, maybe he could have stopped that poor person from getting burnt or prevented the fire that left so many people out of school and work for days.

“What do we do?” His human half asks, lacing worry into their shared voice when the Lunch Lady’s red eyes lock with Danny’s blue-green. Sure they know the ghost is there now but what difference does that make? He isn’t a ghost expert like his parents, not to mention he hadn’t brought any ecto-weapons for Phantoms peace of mind. Not that he would have either way, it’s not like ghost attacks are a regular thing that could happen everyday.

Danny is half ghost now, he has powers, can’t he do something with those? But he’s only practiced with invisibility! He can’t fight it! Well he has to do something!

His two halves don’t get long to argue before the lunch lady’s echoing shouts find their way down the hallways and snap him back to focus. He had ended up almost right outside the entrance to the kitchens along with his friends who had apparently followed him because he was acting weird. He’s not sure when he left the cafeteria, nor does he remember his friends calling out to him. Well, note to selves: try not to get so distracted arguing that we forget to pay attention to our surroundings.

The lunch lady must find something while staring down at Danny and his friends. He’s not sure what it is she found in them, but judging by the furious screech that followed… Clearly she had not liked it.

A scared cry and Sam’s panicked yell of “Duck!” brought his attention away from the ghost that was towering over them, and towards the- is that meat? Is she really just throwing meat at them?

And he really shouldn’t think like that, because that’s when the meat grows eyes and mouths. Mouths that open and reveal lots of needle sharp teeth and eyes that watch them with hunger.

“Actually, I think that's goose.” He only vaguely hears Tucker comment from behind him, only to be followed by an unhappy grunt from Sam.

Now, as he ducks and dives to avoid the living meat being thrown at him and his friends it’s clear Danny doesn’t have the choice to back down anymore, not just to save himself but his friends as well. “Fight it is then,” he declared.

It was long, difficult, and insanely scary, but when the battle was over, Danny was the victor. He had a lot more bruises and jagged little cuts from claws and needly meat teeth than he had that morning. But considering they had both thought they would die a second time during the whole battle, well, Danny thinks he did pretty well in comparison.

The hand lasers were a surprise. He’s pretty sure they’ll be having a talk about that later, and Danny is glad he probably won’t be around for it.

He knows his two halves will figure things out in the end, but he’d rather not have to listen to the process if he doesn’t have to. It gets hard to stay in balance when the ghost and the human aren’t in agreement, luckily they almost always are.

When one half wavers the other supports, be it emotional, physical, or otherwise.

Yeah. Danny thinks he’s going to be ok. Every part of him.

[sunnyrifle]

「Yakuza AUs」

my double take on GinMori within yakuza~

⚠️CAUTION!! i’m not eng native, this is an unedited text from my notes, structural & grammatical errors ahead⚠️

tags!!: rаре ▪️ guns&violence

I wish I could come up with an idea of AU for Ginji being a yakuza, but his role as an underground fixer is just SO SUITING I can't possibly make something better for him as a character;; then again I can cut out the start of it all, just strike through all the how-it-came-to-be and enjoy the matter of fact Ginji as a family patriarch and his loyal little captain Morita--

yakuza tattoos usually reach somewhere out of the back as well, their corners touch buttcheeks, or thighs, or go over the chest, as sleeves over the shoulders-- aah so many possibilities; imagine running fingers over someones sensitive skin, be that arse or else, and there's ink clouds swirling under them as a pattern forever engraved into the skin;; irl yakuza tattoos usually have some kind of symbols or even names of the family you belong to-- so if Ginji's patriarch, it's be Gingumi huehue a silver family-- ah he'd be glad to have Morita bear a tattoo honouring him--

then again there are families branching out of each other, even if Morita's a captain he can be a patriarch of his own smaller family branch-- and if it'd be a golden family?!? ah so cute-- but I want Morita getting into trouble running a whole family all the time-- oh and then his family may have disbanded eventually, just because he was paying attention to the overall affairs a lot more than his own problems… and even if he was a huge help to Ginji, its no use, he failed his role assigned as a patriarch

be Morita his captain, underling and even lover, there's strick traditions to follow, Ginji can't let Morita go unpunished for disobeying and not leading a family as he was assigned, he'd have to make an example of him so no lieutenant or even chimpira would think of disobedience Ginji would be harsh, he'd have to chain Morita, beat him in front of other's eyes as well as laugh and bully him with humiliation, but both Morita and Ginji would know its just their line of work and they're fulfilling their roles out of love to each other as well--

ah if they'd exchange glances and smile at each other even as Morita's all covered in blood and bruises already… something would click, and Ginji would cross a line like they usually do with each other anyway--

and Ginji would be remembered as the cruelest patriarch of Kanto-- for he had raped his own captain for dishonouring his commands, for being useless as an independent family branch-- who would have known that it's nothing new for them both-- the only element of novelty in it were the eyes of other people and lower ranks witnessing it all--and maybe there was just a bit more blood and chains than expected-- they'd kiss to the memories of it in the infirmary anyway;; as cruel as Ginji is, he'd take care of bandaging Morita right after, taking him to his own bedroom for a whole week as well--

I'd imagine they lived together already, its just that having separate bedrooms is a good reputation, but now that Morita needs to heal, he'd be lazing around in Ginji's bedsheets the whole week-- no family to run, just Ginji's right hand once again, even better- everyone now knows he's Ginji's property- if it was just whispers and rumours between ranks before, now its a public knowledge-- ah I want Morita to blush to such a cruel thought and feel completely in love

men's romance in underground business is so cruel i love it;; twist the dagger into their hearts and they'd still ask for more-- __________________________________________

I wanna see yakuza Ginji starts his yakuza work when he was Ginyanma, at that time he had some accident so he had to kill someone, that's why he's come in this yakuza way

aah Ginji's hands finally covered in blood directly, of course he'd have no choice but to join the ranks of yakuza… maybe he'd even have a high start, add his natural talents and he'd be very influential even before his hair would turn grey… I want yakuza as a system to make troubles for GinMori all the time… they can be together of course, but they'd constantly suffer for being constricted in such a structure they have no control over with no way to leave until they're dead… Ginji will aim to become the top of the whole region organisation, just so he'd have some resemblance of control and can reform at least something inside the ranks, to become the greatest evil inside yakuza is even tougher than anywhere else

I want circumstances to become against him and I want Morita to be eventually contracted to get rid of Ginji-- if it's an order from someone even higher than his own patriarch them he has no choice, else its him who'd be killed without a second thought "Ginji's a dead man for us anyway, so if you want to say goodbye now is your chance. Kill Ginji for us, or else someone else would do it, and you wouldn't want that, right? though maybe you'd already be dead to care~" and Morita would take a car, he'd court Ginji into driving him somewhere under pretense of business or even hinting at evening together, but Ginji would see through it, because Morita's hands are not sweaty when he asks Ginji for a date… he can see how it tears Morita apart inside, but shrug his shoulders and go whenever Morita would ask to take him. They'd ride and the silence would follow, when Morita would look at Ginji's seat he'd see him silently smoking and looking out of the window, elbow propped over the car door, not even gracing Morita with the last conversation…

Morita would stop the car in the middle of the forest road, any place is as good, they'd get out of car with a silent understanding and Ginji would stand at car's headlights, just so it'd be bright enough and Morita won't even have to see his face when shooting him like that… Morita would already feel his hand shake because Ginji's too kind to him even in his last moments… He'd lift his gun abruptly, thinking he'd manage to shoot if it'd be an automatic movement of a hand instead of a deliberate shot… but even grasping the gun with both of his hands he won't be able to do that- Ginji's just the regular man he is, he's smoking his last cigarette like any other, his jacket is bright gold in car's headlights and he's looking expectant "Kill me, bring my head back to headquarters and use it as a leverage. Ascend the ranks, become the greatest evil using me a stepping stone. You're so young yet already a captain, use this as an opportunity to reach what I couldn't by myself. You have a bright future in front of you." Ginji would say, and he would smile like he isn't facing the barrel of a gun. And Morita can't see straight, tears streaming down his face. Ultimate choice: kill Ginji and secure the place in yakuza, make their dream come true, or spare him and die in torture for disobeying the highest orders… and Ginji would still be eliminated, just by someone else's hand… Yet Morita can't physically do it, no matter how much he knows its needed… During his inner turmoil Ginji would come closer. He'd lean into Morita's reach, he'd put the gun's end to his own forehead, now even Morita's trembling hands won't be an issue. But like that… even the car's bright headlights can't obscure his features now when smiles at Morita "Aim carefully" and close his eyes, lowering a cigarette from his lips "G-ginji-san… Gin-san… I can't do that to you… I can't do that to myself, it's wrong…" and he'd lower his hands, his knees would give out and he'd sit at the ground with his hands trembling over the gun's safety, he'd wipe his face with jackets sleeve over and over yet the tears won't stop. Can he really not leave this forest without at least one of them ending up dead?

Morita… let's do it together then," Ginji would lower his hand over Morita's head and pat his hair, "Let's change the current of this bursting river in our way." And Morita would lean his head over Ginji's leg, he'd cling to his leg and the gun would be left forgotten at the side, when he'd cry clinging to Ginji's side It'd be so hard, just two of them fighting the whole organisation, living in slums and taking turns to sleep, but Morita can't think of it right now, he already went through personal hell having Ginji at his gunpoint and asking to use his death to make Morita ascend the ranks… anything is better than that-- "Let your luck be our wings, with my fangs we'll destroy the system that made us live this way--" ("we'd destroy the higher-up person who made you go through this" is what Ginji would leave unspoken for now) I want to see their doomed romance so much--! any progression is good, be that Ginji not making it, be that Morita slowly losing strength and motivation to continue and just wanting to die bc they've struggled so much already, what can be worse is them separating by circumstances and reuniting being on the different sides of barricades again… everything would taste so good--

"Let's do it together then" <- I wanted it to sound like a double suicide in the first place hehe, basically Ginji would ask for it anyway but in prolonged terms in the end-- I just thought it'd be good to see Ginji hating yakuza and being part of it, yet stopping to follow the flow only if there's Morita and their future he's doing it for;;

what I'm wondering is, would Gin-san have thought it was okay to die for Morita, or would he have been convinced that Morita wouldn't be able to kill him? I think both are good…

I intended for Ginji to know something was wrong even when Morita invited him to go out somewhere heheh I wanted him to look out of window and think of his intentions regarding the end of the evening-- and I wanted it to be the test for Morita! Ginji to gamble his own life-- "if I'm wrong about Morita as a man, maybe it's better I'll just end up dead… but if he's as pure as I think of him, Morita will join me on this suicide mission… my dream can not be achieved without at least this amount of conviction from him" and he'd tease Morita to shoot him then~~ aw that was pure flirt of him making crying crumbling Morita put a gun to his forehead hehe--

[trauma-insence]

Some advice for winter weather

weather is wonky and bad winter weather is hitting some places where people may not be prepared for it or may not know how to handle it or what to expect. as someone who has lived in areas with bad winters their entire life, I've asked some people what advice or tips they have for people new to snow icy conditions

From a few mechanics

have good brakes and tires. they all seemed to agree that a lot of the accidents they see cars from happened because someone involved didn't have good brakes or tires

from a guy that runs a tire shop- if you can't afford good snow tires, call and ask if they have any sort of community fund or program to help pay for them. explain your situation and a lot of times people want to help

if you have a front wheel drive car, put sand bags in the back. adding the extra weight helps with traction in the rear tires (as someone with a front wheel drive car this does help a ton)

double check that all your lights are working, headlights, tail lights, blinkers, and interior lights

let your engine heat up before you go anywhere and if you can, drive more than about 10 miles at a time (helps your engine in the long run)

if you're waiting for a tow truck, be nice to the driver. you may be waiting a while if other cars are possibly a higher priority situation or it might not be safe for the tow truck to get to you in the moment

From a teacher

a lot of high schools have gone to virtual days instead of snow days, teachers know that in these cases students may have to watch younger siblings. communicate your situations.

seasonal depression gets worse when people are stuck in their houses, if you're struggling, say something

"Consider it my unofficial assignment to anyone who reads this to spend at least half an hour outside or doing something they enjoy"- Mr. K

From a sheriff

if the roads are bad, don't drive unless absolutely necessary

if roads are bad and you need to drive, go slow with your flashers on. if people behind you start getting impatient pull over and let them pass

Don't text and drive. don't do it ever, but especially if there's snow or ice. just don't do it (this is the summed up version from the ten minute talk he gave me)

if for whatever reason you find yourself stranded, broken down, or waiting on a tow truck, call the police if you don't feel safe or if you have a small child in the car at risk of getting too cold

General advice from some people who have seen their fair share of bad winters

keep an emergency kit in your car, it should include a flashlight, extra batteries, a wool or thermal blanket, and a coffee tin or aluminum can with tea lights and a lighter or matches. lighting the tea lights in the can should give you at least fifteen minutes of warmth

dress in layers

you can get thermal under wear from Walmart for about $10 (note: this price is from a boomer who has not bought thermal under wear in at least ten years and i didn't bother to price check)

if you get frostbite, run the area under cool water and slowly bring it to room temperature as you thaw. seek medical attention if you can

with the right gear, winter walks are beautiful and nature should be enjoyed. make sure you do something fun and spend some time in it, it's especially fun to spend time with friends and family in snow

if you have pets, make sure you buy pet safe anti-freeze and salt

if you have children in carseats, don't strap them in with a puffy jacket on them

if you get out of your car after starting it, keep a window open just in case the doors are locked or a child (insert my mothers look over to me as she said this) or pet might lock you out of the car

keep an eye on walkways for ice, if you start to fall brace yourself and try to fall on your butt, don't try to catch yourself with your hands out

Add more if you have them!!

[the-firebird69]

Dominic Toretto found another RX-7 #jdm #fastandfurious #vindiesel #shor...

And there's a guy in the movie and he already had the accident they know who he is and because the accident for our son's mom afterwards and BG heard it and helped her and people are mad so she had nothing to do with it and he said I don't care he depends on her. Now tell me I flew off the handle while he was in the store he's in the yacht store talking about the new boats and they're saying he's praying threatening his mom and all sudden he our son walked over and Tommy f started going into a rage cuz he saw him sitting there and just ignored him he says I'm after her my son says can you see all these people all those ships he says they're fighting and also you said all the sudden he said I don't have time for this I'm going to put her in the bag and get out of here and people are saying we're going to put you in a bag and get you out of here. The escape the Holocaust and this man using the double car his own car he hated them it was the son who helped do it he brought proof about him over there and he went after him he shot someone else and escaped and it was Todd Lane Hill. The only problem is Tom lanehill is a clone so he went after Tommy f and found out his assigned playing today he found out about his stupid plan and he told people now is a fight and people are beginning to see they need to defend themselves here and Big Time and the crossing and the pushing them around stopped and they start telling people and it works

Thor Freya

Olympus

Wow glory be to the father and to the son and that's you and the father is Thor and Freya and zig and zag and I mean it I am so grateful

Hera

Thank you very much well said and they deserve every bit of the credit I really needed to do this I'm getting kind of beat up and dinged a lot

Zues

We told him to you're forcing him to do you in and it's going to be done and now it is done

Thor Freya

Olympus

[dipperdesperado]

Idea Generation for Stories - Writing Story Collection Project (Naruto x Far Cry)

In my last post about this project, I did my initial ideation on what a story that combines elements from Naruto and Far Cry could be. Now, we’ll move into more brainstorming, using my “100 boxes” method.

If you want to know more about the 100 boxes method, you can subscribe to my mailing list, and I’ll send you a document I made that breaks it down!

For this brainstorming session, I split up my ideas into 4 categories: Character, Setting, Theme, and Conflicts. For the mathematicians out there, that means there’s 25 ideas for each group.

Character

The ideas for characters could be related to occupation, temperament, situation, or societal role.

Power hungry soldier

Proactive soldier

field medic

squad of soldiers (ensemble)

Someone forced into military via draft

recruiter who manipulates people into joining the military

sick soldier trying to hide it

regular person “activated” by dogmatic ideologies

regular person descending into darkness

bounty hunter for despot

mercenary playing both sides of the conflict

rich politician trying to hold onto power

stranger from another land used as fodder in propaganda

Prisoner of war who escaped

Beastmaster

eco-terrorist

war protester/activist

militant leader of secluded community in larger town

brainwashed townie

hot-headed farmhand

anxious leader

bored despot

powerful gang leader

corrupt officer

thoughtful tyrant

Setting

Setting is pretty straightforward, these are just overall places for the story, or specific places where certain beats can happen.

Small island nation

walled off city

rogue planet

tropical nation

desert nation

cyberpunk city

developing nation

government super complex

embassy

military base

secret lab

corporation-owned town

rural

countryside

mega-farm

ancient ruins

art gallery

museum

quarry

refugee camp

sewers

school

resort

skiing town

subway system

Theme

These are more specific versions of what we would traditionally consider themes, since basic themes like “love” or “power” are not as helpful for me to think about what I want. I like statements that are more like the message or moral of the story. Even if that ends up changing by the time the thing is done, it helps to have these statements framing things.

Too much order is dangerous to freedom.

Nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted.

Peace is won by violence.

Peace is worth fighting for.

Action is better than stagnation.

Movement is more powerful than desire.

A calm hand cuts more cleanly.

Don’t be a double agent to your own desires.

Decadence for some means dearth for others.

Can you make the world a better place through violence?

What is more important, family or ideals?

Should you give up the life you want for the sake of community?

Can people use their minds to overcome animalistic instincts?

Does doing the right thing men that there needs to be sacrifice?

How much confidence equates to hubris?

How does confidence influence those who lack it?

Can a surrogate family replace the holes left by blood?

how much individual identity can exist between people who are subjugated in the same way?

Is man’s natural inclination to dominate nature?

How far will on go to ensure their own survival?

Everyone has a perspective that they see as valid

Is war an inevitability of human nature?

Will people become what they hate in the face of overwhelming odds?

Is morality a good judge of responsibility?

Who decides what is and isn’t moral?

Conflicts

This last group relates to different story moments of conflict, big and small, that could occur.

breaking-in

working with an enemy

getting sabotaged

getting scammed

losing a vital tool or item

getting trapped

getting captured

having to fight a losing battle

one-night stand with teammate

having to sneak past security

having to infiltrate a group

causing a freak accident

being blackmailed

being assigned an undesirable partner

being arrested

unexpected loss of status

aligned parties having opposing goals that clash

having to do an unpleasant task

being negatively impacted by nepotism and playing favorites

getting bullied by comrades

having a panic attack

having to betray a friend

having to betray a loved one

having to avoid detection

starting a greater conflict

Each time I do this, I like the list more and more. As I go through the process, more and more of the ideas become exciting potential directions. The cool thing is, I only need a couple of these to make something interesting, so a lot of the work can be put in the ‘ol back pocket for the future.

[tpwkjerii]

fool’s mate

there’s only one way to lose a game of chess in two moves, and hwang hyunjin managed to figure out how to (subtly) steal your heart with exactly two moves.

pairing: student!hyunjin x student!reader

warnings: fluff, some cursing, y/n likes reading & books, y/n is kinda a teachers pet, y/n is kinda mean, hyunjin is a simp

genre: high school au, fluff, minor angst if you squint, kinda enemies to lovers and fools to lovers

word count: 4.1k+

a/n: first hyunjin fanfic pls enjoy loves!! also a big happy birthday to hyunjin! send him some love if you can :’) xx

Hwang Hyunjin was an asshole. Or at least he was in your eyes.

Why he decided to bother you every morning without fail? You didn’t know. Usually, you brushed it off in favor of talking to your friend Mina, but this morning you couldn’t. Why?

His clumsy ass spilled warm coffee on your white uniform blouse. Now you were sure he didn’t mean to do it on purpose since he never resorted to any physical annoyance, but after the morning you had (let’s just say you shared some rather unsavory words with your project group members), you could only place the harsh blame on him.

You cursed at the same time he apologized, shooting up from your seat with dark brown coffee dripping down your shirt and onto the table.

“I’m so sorry! Really! Sorry!” Hyunjin said frantically, his hands desperately grabbing onto napkins and awkwardly pressing them onto your chest as a futile attempt to pat away the mess.

“Really? You’re sorry?” you huffed, extremely agitated. To make matters worse, everyone was watching your interaction with Hyunjin, and they were all laughing.

Who were they to laugh at your misery? Even Mina was stifling a laugh! Your friend Mina!

“I meant to give the coffee to you and I tripped over your bag! I didn’t see it I swear!” Hyunjin explained, although it did nothing to calm you down. He faltered over his words when his fingers accidentally brushed against the exposed part of your chest, and you ignored the way it made your heart skip, instead choosing to verbally attack him again.

“You expect me to believe that, Hyunjin?” you exhorted dryly, watching as his long black hair shook rapidly while he nodded.

“Yes because it’s true!” he cried, shrivelling inside when you only scoffed and pushed him away.

Your teacher coughed awkwardly once Hyunjin returned to his seat, gathering everyone’s attention. Well, everyone except Hyunjin, who was staring at you like a kicked puppy.

“___, why don’t you take a trip to the nurse’s office, I’m sure she has an extra shirt for you,” your teacher instructed you, sympathy evident in her voice.

Your face burned red as you nodded and stood up, hating the way everyone looked at you and your coffee soaked shirt. Damn Hwang Hyunjin. You all but ran out of the classroom, and left just as Han Jisung leaned over to Hyunjin and said, “I told you she wouldn’t like the coffee.”

Thankfully, you ended up getting a new (and clean) shirt from the nurse, and you were in a much better mood once lunch hour arrived. Everything was going well as you walked out into the courtyard with Mina. You had your lunch in one hand and drink in the other, ready to replenish yourself after long hours of boring class. In the moment, you thought that the worst of your day was truly over.

But, of course, you were a fool to think that you could ever have a truly good day.

Hyunjin and his group of friends walked up to you, their own drinks and foods in hand. Instinctively, you put a hand up, saying as he approached, “If you’re thinking about spilling another drink on me, don’t.”

At your snarky comment, Hyunjin winced and his shoulders visibly sunk. The sight was so sad it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

“It was an accident! It really was!” Hyunjin defended himself weakly, obviously ready to continue but stopped when one of his friends - Seungmin, you recognized - cleared his throat and elbowed him. With Seungmin’s interruption, Hyunjin remembered why he approached you in the first place, and his entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders lifted, chest popped out, and an effortlessly beautiful smile took over his face.

Looking unimpressed, you gestured at him to continue. “I don’t have all day, Hyunjin.”

He nodded, and confidently asked, “___, how do you feel about accompanying me to Yellow Wood Cafe after school?”

You furrowed your brows at his proposition and stifled a laugh at the way his friends reacted to his request. If you looked closely, you could see Felix mutter “that’s not how we practiced.”

“As much as I would love to go and get another coffee spilled on me,” you started dryly, and Hyunjn visibly deflated as he realized you would never let that go, “I have Book Club after school.”

At that, Hyunjin’s face contorted into one of confusion. He swore he double - no he triple checked that you would be able to go today. According to the club website and a trusted source, Book Club wasn't supposed to meet again until next week.

“I thought we weren’t going to meet until next week?” Seungmin asked, thankfully voicing Hyunjin’s concerns. Although it wasn’t because Seungmin could read Hyunjin’s mind, but because Seungmin (aka trusted source) was also in Book Club.

You nodded at Seungmin, and Hyunjin ignored the jealousy he felt when you smiled at his friend, informing him of the board meeting that the club was having.

Hyunjin slapped himself internally. He forgot you were the vice president of Book Club. How could he forget such a crucial detail?

Seungmin nodded in response, and you took the newfound and rather awkward silence among the group as the chance to leave. “Sorry, Hyunjin. I won’t be able to make it today,” you said with a twinge of actual sympathy.

Once you were gone, Hyunjin sadly walked away, his friends in tow. As they sat down at their usual table, a light bulb emerged and lit up in Hyunjin’s mind. He had a plan.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin started, effectively capturing his friend’s attention, “you play chess, right?”

Seungmin nodded, sarcastically stating, “I’ve only been in Chess Club for two years.”

Hyunjin grinned, “I know I know. Anyways, what’s that one thing called? The one where you can win a game of chess in only two moves?”

“Fool’s mate?”

“Yes!” Hyunjin exclaimed, now having the attention of his entire table (and directly surrounding ones). “I know how to woo Y/N with only two moves.”

“Who uses the word woo anymore?” Jeongin said, his face scrunched into a grimace. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that when she hates you?”

Hyunjin frowned at his younger friend. “She doesn’t hate me. And it’ll be simple, just listen…”

Move 1: King’s Pawn to E5 — Avoid Y/N (“absence makes the heart grow fonder or some shit like that, right?” - jisung someone)

Expected Response: Y/N will start to realize that she actually likes Hyunjin and his presence.

4 days.

It had been 4 days since Hyunjin last talked to you. Were these arguably the best 4 days of your life? Absolutely.

No coffee spills. No obnoxious locker slamming (yes, Hyunjin had the locker next to yours). No yelling across the classroom. Just pure, unadulterated peace.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. Did you know what that certain something was? Yes. Did you want to admit it? Fuck no. There was no way you actually missed Hyunjin’s presence, no way.

As you walked into the classroom again, your eyes reflexively darted to the corner where Hyunjin and his friends always sat. As usual, Hyunjin was sitting on the table with Felix at his side, Jisung and Seungmin were sitting in their seats, and Jeongin was leaning against Seungmin’s shoulder. Normally, Hyunjin would see you enter, shout your name, and gesture for you to sit by him.

However, it’s been nearly a week since the last time he did that. The first day, it was a relief to not have the entire room’s attention on you at 7:50 AM. Now, it was slightly irking.

For a split second, as you walked to your seat, you made eye contact with Hyunjin; and for a second, you thought everything was about to return to normal. But instead of calling you out like you thought, he looked completely past you and waved at the person behind you.

It took almost all of your control to maintain a neutral expression and not turn around to see just who that person was.

Begrudgingly, you set your school bag down on your table and sat down in your assigned seat. With two minutes before the bell, Jeongin runs out of your classroom to go to his and Mina walks in to take her seat next to you.

“What’s got you so upset?” she asked, faux innocence laced in her voice and a knowing look in her eyes. Mina caught on easily two days ago when you accidentally let slip a hurt expression when Hyunjin ignored your greeting.

“Shut up,” you muttered, hearing her stifled laugh as you took out your notebooks.

Luckily, your first few classes passed by rather quickly. For once, your groupmates actually contributed and spared you the trouble of doing all the work. Soon enough, it was lunch period, and you and Mina found yourselves walking to your usual lunch spot.

As you approached your unofficially-claimed bench in the courtyard, you eyed Hyunjin’s unusually quiet table. On a normal day, they would all be very loud (at this point, everyone knew what Jeongin’s scream sounded), but today they were hunched over the table in what appeared to be a deep discussion.

With this newfound silence, you could actually hear the wind rustling the trees and the light chirps of the birds. It was relaxing and peaceful, exactly as you thought lunch should be. For a second, you let a smile grace your face and forgot about how you missed Hyunjin’s constant annoying presence.

Of course, good things can never last long for you because soon enough, it was too relaxing. The birds’ light chirps became annoyingly loud and the blowing wind just became an inconvenience as your hair kept flying into your face regardless of how you angled yourself. And then, as if the clouds opened up and shined a ray of the heavens onto the planet, you heard his laugh.

The laugh, which you previously associated with pure anger, filled you with a surprising warmth. Any negative words you had for mother nature fell silent on your tongue as you shifted your gaze to look at Hyunjin. You watched as he tilted his head back, a harmonious laugh erupting from his throat as his eyes crinkled into beautiful half moons.

You found yourself hypnotized by him as he calmed down and leaned back, running his hands through his long, black hair with a content expression on his attractive face...

You stiffened as he turned and met your gaze. Hoping that he didn’t see the intense blush on your face (he totally did), you quickly looked away and grabbed Mina’s arm, effectively startling her.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Mina asked, slightly choking on her lunch as you rushed her to stand up. “You didn’t even touch your food!” the disgruntled girl continued as you dragged her away.

“I-it doesn’t matter,” you stuttered, praying for the heat across your face to go away. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Well I haven’t,” Mina muttered.

“Mina,” you started, whirling around to stop both of you in your tracks once you were out of the courtyard and in an empty hallway. She looked at you expectantly, her feet tapping impatiently. “This is an emergency,” you stressed.

Mina looked both unimpressed and concerned. With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Emergency meaning what, exactly? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?”

You groaned and looked down at your feet in embarrassment. Raising your hands to your face, you sighed as you mumbled, “I… I think I like Hyunjin.”

Pretending that she couldn’t hear you and deciding to make you more miserable than you already were, Mina held back her laugh and said, “You what? I didn’t quite hear that.”

Suppressing a loud groan, you begrudgingly repeated, “I think I like Hyunjin,” a hard annunciation following each word.

“Ah,” Mina laughed. “I thought so. We all did.”

You shot up, making direct eye contact with the girl in front of you. “What do you mean?” you asked, your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Mina laughed again, saying, “You know, you’re pretty blind sometimes.” With that, she started walking away, only picking up her pace when you started following after her.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” you shouted after her, groaning internally as she broke into a full on sprint.

Move 2: Queen to H4 — Invade Indirectly spend more time with Y/N by attending the same activities (“but hyunjin you hate readi - ” “shut up jeongin”)

Expected Response: Y/N will realize that she loves doing stuff with Hyunjin and will like him more.

“You joined Book Club?” you asked the long-haired newcomer, trying to control the shakiness in your voice and thanking god that you were sitting or else your weak knees would betray you.

Hyunjin nodded, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. “Seungmin,” he paused, pointing to Seungmin, who waved from the door, “suggested that I pick up a new extracurricular.”

You raised your eyebrow pointedly. “And you chose Book Club?”

He nodded proudly, hoping that he didn’t appear as nervous as he felt inside.

“Hyunjin,” you sighed, and he ignored how the way you said his name made his heart feel like it was about to collapse after a marathon, “the only books I have ever seen you read were all for class.”

“And they were all great!” he lied through his teeth, but painted on fake enthusiasm in hopes of convincing you. Evidently, it worked as your confused gaze dropped and you shrugged.

“If Seungmin thinks you’ll enjoy it then I guess you’re free to join us today,” you told him, your voice soft and lacking the usual bite it had when you talked to Hyunjin. Your gentle tone shocked everyone in the room, who all expected you to kick Hyunjin out instantly and permanently ban him from the back library office the club met in once every two weeks.

“Oh,” he said, his lips parting in shock and his heart pounding wildly as you gestured for him to take the empty seat next to Seungmin. “Thank you,” Hyunjin managed to breathe out, turning around to walk towards the open seat with a hand dramatically clenched over his chest.

“Alright,” the sound of your voice again startled Hyunjin, who barely sat down. You stood up from your seat, a book in hand and a friendly smile on your face. “Hopefully everyone finished the last book, which was recommended by Sunwoo,” you announced, smiling as you lifted up the book 1984 and gestured kindly towards Sunwoo, a boy in your class.

Hyunjin ignored the twinge of jealousy as you nonverbally praised Sunwoo for his book choice. He could choose nice books to read, too.

“Usually Joon leads the discussion,” you continued, and Hyunjin recognized the advanced Literature TA’s name, “but seeing as both him and Haechan aren’t here, I’ll be leading the discussion for today!”

Hyunjin felt his heart swell at the proud grin on your face as you talked about your passions. To be honest, he hated reading and would prefer to be at the dance studio with Felix for extra practice, but being here with you made him quickly forget about those two things. He would read 1000 books if it meant he got to spend more time with you.

In the front, you animatedly led the discussion, willing yourself to not stare at Hyunjin and lose your train of thought. It was harder than you thought it would be to ignore the way he casually ran his hands through his hair and how he pushed up the sleeves of his uniform shirt. It was enough to make you both curse and thank Seungmin for bringing him today.

After ten long minutes of discretely ogling Hyunjin while attempting to lead the discussion on a book you barely managed to finish in time, you were finally able to sit down. Everyone else was deep in conversation, and mostly everyone had their attention off you. Key word: most.

Hyunjin kept an unreadable gaze on you while, shockingly, participating in the group discussion. Your eyes clashed with his, and you found yourself struggling to breathe properly as he mentioned his favorite part of the book.

“When Winston and Julia realized they liked each other and took the risk to be together.”

At his words, your breath stopped. The intense gaze he held on you and the slight shakiness in his voice led you to assume that Hyunjin was feeling the same way as you, and that his sentence was just a shove — a way of indirectly putting his feelings into the air. You knew that your relationship wouldn’t be nearly as risky as the two characters’ of 1984 and that you and Hyunjin were far from the two, but somehow, Hyunjin’s words managed to excite you.

Was it a risk to open your heart up to the person who used to annoy you to no end? Was it a risk to like someone at all? Years of building walls and pushing people away were crumbled by a beautiful boy with a smile that took your breath away. You didn’t know what this meant for you, but one thing was for sure: for once, you hoped that Hyunjin didn’t stop hanging around.

Soon enough, Book Club was over, and you all but ran out of the library. With your backpack securely on, you put in your earphones and began the usual walk to Yellow Wood Cafe. It was a usual tradition to meet Mina, who was really your only friend now that you were thinking about it, after Book Club to do homework and eat together.

With music playing loudly in your ears, you failed to notice Hyunjin and Seungmin behind you; conveniently, both of them were also headed to the Cafe to visit their friend who worked there. Or, at least Seungmin was — Hyunjin had an ulterior motive.

After a short eight minute walk, which was all taken up with you screaming internally over your newfound feelings for Hyunjin, you arrived at the bright storefront. Through the decorated glass walls, you saw Mina sitting at your usual table, her neck craned down to copy notes. You walked into the store with a happy smile and headed straight for the empty seat across your friend.

As you set your bag down, Mina looked up, and her smile turned into a mischievous grin when she moved slightly to the side to see the familiar faces that entered behind you.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, your brows furrowed together as you turned around.

You recognized him instantly and you quickly whipped around, hoping he didn’t see that (he definitely did). “Oh my god,” you whispered, your eyes wide in panic, “I can’t believe he followed me.”

“Follow?”

You inhaled sharply, hesitantly turning around and gasping when you saw how close Hyunjin was standing to you. His head was craned down to look at you, and there was barely a foot between your faces.

“___, I didn’t follow you. My friend works here and I wanted to pay him a visit,” he told you, waving to the guy behind the counter as his evidence.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded, your voice uncharacteristically shaky. “Well, I take my words back.” You subtly cleared your throat and turned back around, hoping your face didn’t appear as warm as it felt.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, causing you to stiffen slightly, and asked, “Want a drink? My treat.”

“N-no thanks,” you managed to reply, internally cursing at the stutter. How did Hyunjin somehow manage to completely dissolve your composure?

You didn’t even get to think about the answer to your question as Hyunjin said, “I insist. You usually get a Jasmine Green Tea with boba, right?”

“How do you know my or -”

“Hey Changbin, can I get a Jasmine Green Tea with boba and a Brown Sugar Milk Tea with boba?”

You watched as Hyunjin inserted his card into the chip reader and took it out, the receipt proof that he really did get you a drink.

“Er - thanks,” you mumbled as he approached, feeling incredibly awkward. By now, Mina had moved to talk to Seungmin since they shared the same math class, but you didn’t miss the way they eyed you and Hyunjin.

If any of your awkwardness was showing, Hyunjin chose to ignore it as he seemed as cool as ever. “No problem,” he said, his hands moving together to clasp each other tightly. “Since I got you a drink,” he started, his voice wavering slightly, “I was wondering if we could talk? Just for a few moments?”

Your eyes widened and you felt your heart pick up its pace. “Just us two?” you asked, your voice mirroring your shock.

With his nod, you slowly walked towards an empty table with him and awkwardly sat down at one of the sides. You kept your gaze firmly on the white table in fear of looking up and losing what was left of your composure. Silence prevailed for a few seconds until Hyunjin spoke.

“I know that we haven’t been on the best terms the past year,” he started, and you nodded at his true statement. “I did a lot of things that I didn’t realize really bothered you -” you thought back to the amount of times he would purposely distract you in class and randomly hug you when he was sweaty from dance or swim practice.

“- but I really did those things you get your attention,” he paused, causing you to look up just as he looked down bashfully, “which didn’t work out too well when I really thought about it. And I know that now you probably think I’m annoying -” your breath hitched and you stopped yourself from blurting out ‘not anymore’ “- but I still want to let you know how I feel.”

He looked up, and the genuineness in his eyes made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest. “I…” he weakly started, “I don’t know if anything changed how you felt this week but I know that I’ve liked you since you stood up for me last year.”

Right, you thought back to the time when you and Hyunjin were mere classmates (basically strangers) and you defended him from an older student. You couldn’t stand to see them abuse their authority as your elder (by only one year too), and decided to use your influence as a teacher’s pet to teach him a lesson. It was safe to say that Hyunjin was never bothered after that.

“After that I just wanted to be around you more,” Hyunjin continued, “but you usually kept your distance from people and I was stupid and couldn’t think of better ways to get your attention than annoy you.” The long-haired boy in front of you was blushing now, and his hands were clasped together so tightly you had to fight the urge to reach out with your own and relax him.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I’d really appreciate it if you gave me the chance and allowed me to take you out on a date -”

“Yes,” you said instantly. But Hyunjin, amidst the panic of his mind, seemed to hear something else as his face immediately fell and he instantly moved to stand up.

“I guess I expected that - wait, yes?” He plopped back down on his seat ungracefully, shock absorbing his features as if a light had turned on in his brain and properly registered what you said.

You nodded, a bright red blush staining your cheeks. “Yes, you can take me out on a date, Hyunjin.”

“Is this a dream?” Hyunjin asked, the shock still clear on his face as he held back an excited smile.

You shook your head with a small laugh. “Nope, completely real life, I’m afraid,” you answered, gently pinching his hand for extra emphasis.

Hyunjin broke into a large grin and moved to cover your hands with his own. “I’ve dreamed about this moment,” he shyly admitted with a bashful blush that slowly spread across his face, “and I didn’t think you’d ever say yes.”

You took a second to admire his smile and how his eyes seemed to shine even in the cafe’s fluorescent lighting. Hyunjin really did have the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“I’m curious,” you started slowly after collecting yourself. He nodded, a silent gesture to continue. “Was this a plan? The past week, it felt different, and that’s how I started to realize…” you paused, a blush spreading across your face, “I liked you.”

Hyunjin’s smile never faltered, and he tightened his grip around your hands as he asked, “have you ever played chess?”

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Summary: All you wanted was a quiet place to study. Instead, you’re initiated into a host club after breaking a vase worth thirty-one million won

Pairing: OT7 x female reader

Genre: Slice of life, school AU, humour

Prompt: Ouran Highschool Host Club inspired

Word count: 1.4k

AN: I’ve wanted to write an Ouran inspired fic for a while but I didn’t know what to do with it. So this was the perfect excuse to dabble with the idea.

All you wanted was a quiet place to study. Which, considering the price people paid to attend this school, you would have thought that you would be swimming with choices. But apparently paying for an education eliminated any and all need for quiet study areas.

The library, the one place you thought you could count on, was currently home to the debate society who were not only loud but large enough that the three-story library no available tables. And even if you could find a spot, the space was open and all noise seemed to reverberate through the building with such efficiency that you could hear Lee Minho’s cackles from the ground floor.

So you made your way over to the abandoned music corridor. Or, at least, you thought it was abandoned. You had checked the after-school group list several times to make sure no one would be around and nowhere on the sheet did it say that Music room number three was occupied.

That was the only reason why you found yourself standing in front of the large ornate double doors that Tuesday afternoon. If you had known what was on the other side of the doors, you wouldn’t have entered the room with such confidence, letting the door bang against the wall as it swung open and revealed the seven most notorious faces around the school.

Seokjin was the only one with his back to you when you opened the door. He turned slowly and the sun seemed to follow his movements, casting a halo around his form. He smiled as his eyes met yours.

“Ah, I see we have a new visitor. Welcome to Bangtan Sonyeondan.” He stepped forward, his whole body oozing elegance as he stopped in front of you. He frowned as he brushed a strand of your short hair away from your face. “We don’t usually have a lot of guys pass through our doors, but we’re not one to turn away someone in need.”

You were often mistaken as a boy that you had somewhat grown used to it. You had cut your hair short before transferring schools. Not because you wanted short hair, exactly, but because you were tired of maintaining long hair. You had decided it would be much more practical to have short hair that only required a quick brush through in the morning so you could spend more time on your studies.

So hearing Seokjin refer to you as a male wasn’t what had you staring dumbly at them. It was the fact he was speaking directly to you in the first place.

In fact, as Seokjin took your hand and led you over to the rest of his group, your mind whirled to catch up with what was going on.

Seokjin placed his hand on your back and pushed you slightly towards the other guys, who eyed you with mild interest.

“Isn’t that YLN YN? The scholarship student?” Hoseok asked, turning to face Yoongi with a small pout on his face. Hoseok was a fourth-year student who was known for his love of all things cute. He was often found carrying a Kaws teddy with a giant smile on his face. The complete opposite to his best friend.

Yoongi nodded his head as he eyed you with the same lack of expression he was renowned for. The smaller man rarely spoke to anyone other than Hoseok, but half the female population were in love with him for his prowess on the piano.

“Isn’t he in our class?” Taehyung leaned towards Jimin, covering his mouth with his hand as if he were whispering but making no attempt to lower his voice. The pair kept to themselves, rarely engaging in any conversation with anyone except each other unless it was to make a joke. And even then, that had never happened in your time at the school.

Jimin stepped closer towards you, looking down at your clothing. As a scholarship student, you were awarded the benefit of not needing to wear a uniform. It had sounded wonderful when you started. You hated wearing skirts and you found the top button of your shirt always dug into your throat. So you opted to wear loose trousers and a nice baggy jumper to keep you warm. But then you had started and you realised what not wearing a uniform really meant. It was like a neon sign followed you everywhere, indicating that you weren’t even close to the wealth bracket these students came from. And thus, none had ever bothered to get to know you other than the courteous ‘hello’ when you were paired with them for assignments.

“I don’t recognise him…” Jimin trailed off as he got uncomfortably close to your face. You leant back in an attempt to keep some of your personal space.

Namjoon grabbed the back of Jimin’s uniform and pulled him back. “What have we said about invading people’s personal spaces.” Namjoon rolled his eyes as he let Jimin’s uniform go once he was a comfortable distance away from you.

Namjoon, you knew, was a third-year student along with Seokjin. Unlike Seokjin, he wasn’t known for his friendliness with the ladies. Sure, he was still well-loved by the female population of the school, but he was known as the calculating one. He made connections based on what his family needed.

“I’m sorry, I was just looking for a quiet place to study.” You took a step back, throwing your hands up to show that you meant no harm. All you wanted was to leave the room in one piece. Your back bumped into someone, making you jump. You whirled around only to come face to face with Jungkook

“I’m sorry about my hyungs, Yn.” Jungkook’s doe eyes looked at you sweetly, quietly begging you to stay. “They can be a little rude.”

He was the youngest of the group, only a first-year student. But just like the other students, he was well-loved. His family were known martial artists, most of whom belonged to the South Korean militia, but despite their fierce reputation he was known for being an absolute cutie-pie.

You could feel your resolve to high-tail it out of the room dissolve as you stared at him. It was the kind of face that was impossible to say no to.

“Oh, well I didn’t mean to intrude,” You stumbled out, blinking heavily in an attempt to clear your mind.

Seokjin slung his arm over your shoulder as he paid no mind to what you were saying. “Now we have to show our utmost respect, boys, to our lonely soul here. He needs guidance and has sought after our expertise.” You could almost see the stars in his eyes at the mere thought of being needed.

You jumped from his hold as you began to protest. “No, no! That’s not it at all. I’m good! Really!” you insisted no longer paying attention to your surroundings.

Which was probably why you backed straight into a display table hosting an expensive looking vase. One minute you were protesting help, the next you were scrambling after the falling vase in an attempt to catch it.

You never had a chance.

“Oh, Grandma donated that vase.” Taehyung pouted as he gazed forlornly down at the vase’s shattered remains.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for it!” You insisted, reaching for the pocket in your bag with your purse.

“Wasnt that vase worth thirty-one million?” Jimin’s brow rose, barely containing his excitement at the destruction before him.

You blanched at the price. “Thirty-one million?” you repeated, hand freezing from where it held your purse in your bag.

“Oh, the poor dear will never be able to afford that!” Hoseok commented, looking over to Yoongi for confirmation. Yoongi swiftly nodded his head and Hoseok’s attention returned to you. “There must be some other way they can pay?” Hoseok turned towards Namjoon.

They all did. Which was when you knew you weren’t going to like what he said next.

“Hm, I suppose they could work as our lackey. If they worked the remainder of their time here, they should be able to clear their debt. So long as no other accidents occur, that is.” He sent you a pointed look before sighing as Jin waltzed straight back to you.

He spun you around as he sang, “So it’s official. YLN YN, welcome to our host club!”

BGW Drabble Master List

Master List

[hesgunnalovethis]

Not That Bad

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Summary: You have the severity of your injuries in a twist sending Leonard McCoy’s blood pressure through the roof

TW: injury descriptions and strong language 

ft. bestie Jim Kirk <333

Masterlist!

Word Count: 1737

“Yes. No. I understand Mr Spock. Cuttings on your desk in 40 minutes. Got it.” You closed your comm and checked your watch. 

 You’d spent 16 hours Planetside and after a complication that had landed most crew in the MedBay, you agreed to help out botany to complete the mission report. Really you didn’t have a clue what you were doing but you concluded it couldn’t be that hard. 

 Cross referencing the plants in front of you to the list on your PADD, you picked up the plier looking utensil and began clipping the stems from the root. 

 “Maybe I should transfer to science.” You muttered to yourself after you’d successfully pressed the first few cuttings into their sample bags. 

Taking the next stem between your fingers you picked up the pliers and cut through the green and your fingertip, simultaneously. Blood shot upwards from your finger. You scoffed at the inconvenience. 

 You grabbed the first aid kit and examined the content that your Chief Medical Officer boyfriend had once talked you through and began to wish you’d listened. 

 Failing to remember anything, you wrapped a plaster around the top of your finger and watched it turn from white to red almost immediately. You tried layering another on top which bled through just as fast. After a failed third layer you took yourself from the lab and started towards the MedBay. 

 You stopped for a moment scouring your brain for which corridors to take. It had been so long since you’d actually journeyed to the MedBay by choice. You’d been utilising your doctor shared quarters. 

 Arriving at the desk you checked your watch again. 20 minutes before Spock was expecting you. You began to panic and turned to the receptionist. 

 “Could you ask Doctor McCoy to see me? It’s pretty urgent.” You said, grabbing a bundle of tissues from the display to contain the droplets falling from your finger. 

 The receptionist did as you asked and you heard Leonard through the comm.

 “On the bridge?” He asked. 

 “No, Sir. Here in the MedBay.” The receptionist in front of you responded. 

 “In the Med-“ You heard a fuss beginning through the comm and then a room number you were to be assigned. 

 No sooner had you arrived, a half scrubbed in Leonard burst through the door desperately searching for what heinous emergency had beckoned you to his MedBay. 

 “Are you being serious right now!?” Leonard asked ripping off the last of his scrub uniform. 

 “Always good to see you too, Lee.” You responded, smiling. 

 Sighing softly he shot you an apologetic look and planted a kiss on your cheek. 

 “Hi, darlin’” He whispered letting down his doctor guard and allowing his southern drawl back in. He began to look you over again, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

 You lifted your hand removing the tissue to reveal your slightly bloodied finger. Leonard took a step back rubbing his temples. 

 “Y/N, darlin’. PUT A PLASTER ON IT?!”

 “I tried that! It keeps bleeding though!” You whined. 

 “There are people DYING in here, Y/N.” 

 “Oh go on, please. I have lab work due in 15 minutes and I can’t work with this bleeding all over the samples!” 

 Leonard sighed and moved to the other side of the room to collect the dermal regenerator. Taking your hand in his he kissed the cut before placing it under the machine.

 He caught your eyes with his. “I left a 6 hour surgery for this.” 

 - 

 The next day you took your healed finger with you on your next mission where your team successfully released several hostages and transported their authoritative grasp to Enterprise Security.  

 “All clear, Jim.” You said to your comm after clearing the last room on your final check. 

 “Received. Take the turbolift to the bridge and let’s get out of here.” 

 Stepping into the foreign tube you found it very similar to Starfleet’s and got it moving towards the bridge. You began to hear Jim’s voice on the other side before the lift stumbled to a halt. 

 “Um, Jim?” You shouted through the metal. 

 “Great.” Jim said clocking the flashing error sign on the lift. “Don’t worry Lieutenant. We’ll... pry it open.” 

 “Full proof.” You said to yourself, getting ready to pull from your side. 

 After a brief plan outline and a countdown you began to pull. A small gap opened to the side and you managed to squeeze your body through before the door clattered closed on your newly regenerated finger. 

 “Again?! Why is it always you?” You asked your finger, pulling it from the metals grip and eying the purple residue left on it. 

 “Me?” Jim asked, doubled over from the effort he’d just exerted, before being distracted by his comm, “Bones! Yes, just calling to let you know of the ZERO injuries incoming to the MedBay!”

 “Zero injuries?” You cut him off. “This is a broken bone for sure.” 

 “Oh my god.” Jim said in disgust looking at the weird purple oil all over the metal, your finger and subsequently his uniform. “Why is it that colour?!” 

 “Dammit, Jim.” You heard through the comm before Leonard hung up and Jim reconnected to the transporter room. 

 You arrived back on the transporter pad to Leonard’s eyes burning a hole in you and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 “Broken bone?” He said walking towards you.

 “This bastard finger.” You said and Leonard took your wrist to examine it.  

 “THIS-“ He stopped abruptly and calmed himself. “This is a finger, Y/N. BARELY a bone.” He examined it further, “I’m not even convinced that’s broken?” 

 “Tell you what though, it really fucking hurts.” You petted your lip at him. 

 Slipping an arm around your waist he led you out of the transporter room and towards the MedBay. “Let’s get you patched up sweetheart, but we really have to talk about your hyperbole.” 

 -

 It was a few days before you were due to arrive at your next destination and Jim had roped you into helping with his ensign combat training. 

 “It’s basically target practice.” Jim said in conclusion to a confused looking group of redshirts. “The phasers I’ve given you won’t shoot, but will read on the side if you’ve hit your target. It’s like laser tag! You’ve all played laser tag, right?” The room was silent. “And that’s another added to the list of shore leave activities.” 

 “Captain Kirk and I will be over here as moving targets.” You started, taking over from Jim. “Try and shoot me without hitting the Captain. Got it?” 

 You and Jim moved over to the course beginning the same choreographed fight you’d been using for years. You heard the pathetic fake phaser shots over and over and were beginning to question almost all of your life choices as a deafening shot fired and struck your side. 

 “Y/N!” Jim fell to your side, “PHASERS DOWN!” He shouted to the group briefly trying to determine which one hadn’t followed his only instruction ‘Do not bring your own phaser.’ 

 There was a small commotion before you heard Jim’s voice again. “Kirk to MedBay I need a team to training room 1 immediately.” 

 You found yourself back in the same biobed you’d frequented for past 3 days consecutively and tried to keep up with the nurses’ quick conversations. 

 “Someone page McCoy now.” You heard one of them say. 

 “Not Leonard-“ You interrupted, “He’ll jus- is there anyone else?”

 “Not anyone who could patch you up like Doctor McCoy.” One of the nurses stated opening their comm. “Doctor McCoy to room 6. On the double. It’s-“ 

 “Lieutenant Y/L/N?” Leonard cut off the nurse. 

 “Yes.” She replied. 

 “For once I’m not even surprised.” 

 The nurses continued fussing around you and your biobed beeps became angrier. 

 You watched the door open and Leonard’s face turn from passiveness to urgency in a millisecond. 

 “My god!” He shouted, dropping his board and beginning to order nurses to different machines connected to your bed. 

 “Listen, Leonard it’s not THAT bad.” 

 “NOT THAT BAD?! YOU’VE BEEN SHOT?!”  Leonard flicked his eyes between you and your vitals. 

 “Yeah, but, shot in a controlled environment.” 

 “You’ve been in here with a cut and a stave, guns blazing, and now you’ve been shot it’s ‘NOT THAT BAD?!’” 

 “Granted this doesn’t look-“ You were cut off by a wave of pain that sent you wincing. 

 “Hell.” Leonard turned to his own station briefly. “You’re not gonna like this sweetheart but you can tell me all about it when you’re back in one piece.” Leonard planted a kiss on your head and a hypo in your neck, sending you into sleep. 

-

Coming back to, you heard your biobed beeping at a normal rhythm and a strong accent beside you. 

 “I don’t care what his test scores are, he shot a Lieutenant I want him gone.” 

 “Leonard.” You scolded. 

 “Darlin’” He moved to you instantly closing his comm without a word. “How are you feeling?”

 “I’m fine. Sore neck.” You said rubbing where he’d hypo’d you. His eyes were still racked with worry. “It was an accident. That’s why we train them we-“ 

 “Darlin’ if he isn’t removed from this ship the only accident will be me prescribing him with cyanid capsules instead of his iron tablets.” He looked over your vitals again before picking up his clipboard, “But you let me worry about that. You can worry about this.” He handed you a laminated sheet entitled ‘Doctor McCoy’s Guide to a Serious Injury.’ 

 You shot him an annoyed look. 

 “Just so there’s no more confusion.” He winked at you. You glanced over the ‘Serious Injury: To Be Reported’ column. 

 “I hardly think ‘A sudden cough’ is a serious injury, Leonard.” You scoffed. 

 “Oh sure. Let’s just let your DNA de-evolve into non humane codes exterminating crucial pairings.” 

 “Noted.” You said admiring the doctor’s bedside manner, “Is there a second page?” You said spotting another sheet in his hand. 

 “No. This is Jim’s copy.” Leonard replied. 

 “Of course.” 

 Leonard brushed your hair behind your ears and smoothed your forehead. “I’m glad you’re finally visiting the MedBay doll, but I would prefer if you kept your trips to mandatory immunisations and essential check-ups.” 

 “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Doctor.” You said brushing your lips against his. 

“And somehow I still wouldn’t change you for the world.” Leonard said quietly before closing the space left between you.

[90spumkin]

Invisible

Request:  hi can you please do a spencer reid x bau fem reader and can it based on the song invisible by 5sos where the reader feels like she is invisible because everybody talks over her and trips her and nobody does anything.also they hate her besides spencer, rossi, penelope and hotch and they hate her because of jj because she is jealous of how the reader and spencer are close together so one day the reader gets kidnapped and is forced to read her song journal or her journal.so spencer gets mad at the team when they try to confront him

A/N: I really hope this is what you were looking for when you made the request. I hope it’s not absolute trash. Thank you for the request anon! The song that was apart of the request is Invisible by 5 Seconds of Summer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, angst I think, description of torture 

Word Count: 1875

It was a nice sunny day in Virginia, one of its less humid days. That should be a sign it was going to be a good day, right? Wrong, y/n had a bad gut feeling it was going to be a very bad day. Worse than normal.

Y/n was sitting in the BAU parking garage watching a few people from her team walk in the building. Emily, JJ, and Morgan were genuinely nice people…except to y/n. They hadn’t always been rude or distant towards her that just started up recently, and y/n knew why. She took a deep breath and exited her car, making her way inside the same way the others had.

She knew her gut feeling was right as soon as she walked through the double glass doors. She tried to make a beeline for her desk, keeping her head low to avoid eye contact. Things didn’t go as planned.

Y/n tripped over a box of files bumping into Morgan who bumped into Emily who spilled coffee all down the front of her white blouse. Y/n instantly started to panic, “Oh my God, Emily I am so sorry! I’ll get some towels!”

Emily gritted her teeth and just said, “Don’t!”, she stormed off grabbing her go bag to change out of her now ruined blouse. Morgan just huffed and made his way to his desk.

Y/n made it to her desk finally with no other accidents. She sat down and put her head in her hands trying to choke back a sob. She felt a presence next to her but didn’t look up till she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Y/n are you okay?”

She looked up to see Spencer Reid standing before her with a worried look on his face. She gave him a small smile. He didn’t seem convinced due to the worry line between his eyebrows deepening. They stared at each other a little longer than what was probably necessary. JJ got their attention by walking by waving files and announcing, “We’ve got a case.”

Y/n saw JJ pause and look at Spencer’s hand on her shoulder and gave y/n a quick glare before continuing her way to the round table room. Spencer moved his hand and started to trail behind JJ while having a conversation with Morgan. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following and when he went to wait for her, she shook her hand urging him on without her.

Why was it so hard to push him away? She knew the others no longer liked her because of how close the two of them had gotten. They felt as if she was stealing Spencer from them when all she wanted was to be friends with them all. She let out the second sigh of the day and made her way to the briefing, falling in step with Hotch and Rossi who both gave her a warm smile.

The briefing went by in a flash. It was a whirlwind of information and thoughts being bounced back and forth, and like always y/n’s insight was overlooked. The flight went by just as fast. After going over the files and new information from the bubbly Garcia, y/n had gone to sit at the back of the plane. The entire time ignoring Spencer’s worried glances.

Once they arrived at their destination, the team split off to do their assignments given by Hotch. Y/n was with Spencer putting together the victimology. The whole time she felt his eyes on her, but she never said a word hoping some how she would become invisible to him like she was to the others.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed when they got a call from Hotch telling them they were closer to the warehouse Garcia had said belong to one of the suspects. They grabbed their vest and took off as fast as humanly possible.

The warehouse was a dark and looming building and y/n felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Spencer walked around the SUV and said, “There’s no time to wait for the others we’re going to have to split up. Meet me in the back, okay?” She nodded and went to scope out the left side of the build, but Spencer grabbed her hand and search her eyes for a moment before giving her hand a quick squeeze and letting go.

She crept around the building, gun aimed and eyes looking for any sign of movement. She thought she heard something behind her, but when she turned, she was met with absolutely nothing. She turned to continue her way towards the back of the building, and that’s when everything went black.

Y/n woke with an ache on the left side of her head and she was pretty sure there was blood running down her face. She was tied to a chair in a big empty room with a light fixture hanging above her. Once her eyes fully focused, she realized there was a camera aimed towards her and man standing behind it.

“Ah you’re awake. Time to have some fun.”, his voice was raspy like he smoked 50 packs of cigarettes a day. Y/n knew the unsub liked to toy with his victims, she saw all the videos in the time before the call from Hotch. He was going to torture her darkest thoughts and deepest secrets from her. Y/n’s lips tingled, and her stomach twisted into knots.

“I know you know what’s about to happen, but I found something that’s going to make this a little more interesting.”, the unsub walked around the camera showing it the journal he held in his hand.

----

Spencer was absolutely frantic, there was no other way to describe it. He felt so stupid for splitting up from y/n. It was his fault she was kidnapped, and it was his fault they were seeing her on the screen. The others were rushing around and he could hear them talking to Garcia trying to figure out where he was keeping her.

On the screen the unsub was waving around a book and Spencer could see the pleading in y/n’s eyes. At the sound of the smack that went across y/n’s face everyone stopped.

“You’re going to read this so your little team watching this really knows what you think of them.”, the unsub was gripping y/n’s jaw tightly. She shook her head viciously which landed another smack across her already bruised cheek.

Tears stung Spencer’s eyes and he said, “We need to find her now!”. JJ put her hand on his arm trying to calm him, but he shrugged it off, “Don’t touch me.”

He turned back towards the screen at the sound of y/n’s broken voice, “Um the first part is part of a song. No one sees me I fade away, lost inside a memory of someone's life It wasn't mine Just me and my shadow and all of my regrets Who am I? Who am I when I don't know myself? Who am I? Who am I? Invisible Wasted days, dreaming of the times I know I can't get back.”. She stopped reading which earned her a cut down the side of her neck, she let out an ear shattering scream. Spencer turned away and looked at Hotch begging him for something. Hotch just shook his head, they don’t have a clue where he was keeping her.

Y/n continued reading but Spencer could no longer watch so he listened, “I never meant to upset anyone. I wanted to belong; I want to be everyone’s friend. I guess I became friends with the wrong person first. JJ was the first to become my friend, but when I told her- when I told her I was crushing on a certain young doctor, that’s when she decided to make my life a living hell. I’m invisible now. My thoughts don’t matter, I don’t matter. I no longer know why I try.”

Y/n stopped and started to beg not to read anymore. Spencer couldn’t move, he could only glare at the woman who claimed to be his best friend. She knew he had feeling for y/n and yet she chose to be cruel to her and keep them apart.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Garcia’s voice through the speakers of the tablet laying on the table telling them she has an address of the unsub’s parent’s lake house. Just like that the team stormed out of the police station in a blur of grim faces and vests.

----

With every word she read, y/n felt as if acid was being poured down her throat. She had paused once again and this time the unsub slammed the journal shut in anger and aggravation.

“That’s it I’m bored.”, and before she knew it there was a rope around her throat and her lugs were burning as she gasped for breath. Her vision began to blur, and darkness was surrounding her mind. Before she passed out, she heard a shout ring out and saw a flash of blonde hair.

When y/n woke up she winced in pain and at the fluorescent lights above her. She let out a groan as she tried to sit up. There was a hand on her shoulder as someone said, “Hey woah take it easy.”

Y/n realized it was JJ and it took everything in her not to flinch away, “What are you doing here?”. There was sadness in the petite blonde woman’s eyes. She glanced down at the floor than back up at y/n as she said, “I’m so sorry for everything that I put you through, what I influenced the others to put you through. I don’t have a good excuse or reason to why I did it, but hearing you saying all those things it broke something in me. Can you ever forgive me?” Tears began to stream down her face as she asked for forgiveness.

Y/n finally saw a glimpse of the woman she had met on her first day at the BAU. She gave her a real smile and nod. Both women let out little chuckles which made the buddle of limbs in the chair in the corner of the room stir. Y/n hadn’t realized Spencer was there asleep. JJ stood to leave saying, “I’ll give you guys some space to talk.”

As soon as Spencer realized y/n was awake he raced to her side mumbling and repeating himself, “I am so so sorry, y/n. I should never have left you.” Y/n grabbed his hands that were clinging to her, “Spencer it’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Spencer turned his head away from her, she brought her hand to his cheek turning him back towards her, “Hey it’s okay I promise.”

“It’s not just that, I didn’t realize how much you were struggling with the others. I want you to know they aren’t going to hurt you anymore, no one will ever hurt you again. I love you, y/n.” He kissed the palm of her hand that was resting on his cheek.

She smiled down at him and she finally felt peace as she said, “I know. I love you too.”

[randomblog178]

Hi! I'm the one who asked you for the TXT sickfic and I'm not sure if you saw it, so I wanted one from Beomgyu with allergies, take your time if necessary, no pressure ... thanks! <3

Hey anon! sorry it took a while :( I was busy this past week but this was honestly so fun to write! u didn’t specify what allergy u wanted so i did cat allergy if thats fine😭so I hope u enjoy!<3

Airplane Allergies

Beomgyu & the rest of the boys are on a plane, Gyu is already exhausted enough but good news; he’s sitting next to a woman who owns a cat

warnings: snz

•••

“this is your seat, sir” The middle aged plane attendant pointed

“thank you maam” Beomgyu sat down in his seat, unfortunately he was seats away from the rest of the boys who were all smushed together in the same section. Other than the fact that he couldn’t talk to any of his members, things were going relatively smoothly. Until the lady who was assigned the seat beside him showed up.

It wasn’t actually the lady herself, he was sure she was a sweet woman. It was the furry felines very visible fur on the lady’s coat that was the problem. Gyu had a lot of allergies growing up and he still does. He couldn’t own pets, he had to have the house dusted every single day, nor could he ever wear any type of scent. It was frustrating at times because random things would set him off a lot in public and he would constantly run himself into having allergy attacks by accident. In fact, fur is one of his more severe sensitivities...basically his nose is sensitive to a lot of things and cats & dogs are no exception. Yes, it’s ironic for someone who is in a kpop group well known for one of their songs “cat & dog”. The members tease him about that way more than they probably should.

Gyu greeted the older woman but didn’t say anything about the animal. Why would he? what could she do about it anyways, and he was afraid he would come off as rude so he decided to keep it to himself. A few minutes before the plane took off, he could feel it. His eyes were swelled up and teary, his nose was running, and most of all, he needed to sneeze really badly. He tried to keep the first one held in because anyone who knows Beomgyu knows that whenever he sneezed once, he was gonna have a massive fit and it wouldn’t stop until his nose said so. Which can either take up to a few minutes or hours depending on how severely irritated his nose is

Beomgyu was busy trying to keep the attack at bay for just a little while longer; which was working for a good 10 minutes, sniffing and nose blowing basically saved him. After those 10 minutes were up, is when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“he..heptchh, hegnxt—scuse me”

He was thankfully able to stifle the first one, and it gave him relief for some time. Until not long after he had to sneeze again, so he let out a quick double into his elbow

“heytchoo, he..heptchh!” he looked at the lady once more, apologized, and looked back down. Out of every seat she could’ve sat on, she just had to be beside the guy with about a billion allergies...about half an hour passed, and Gyu was sneezing and rubbing at his nose every few minutes or so. At one point the lady next to him asked him if he was alright. He simply nodded and excused himself to the restroom where he immediately started letting out the string of sneezes he had been holding in for so long. “HEltChew, H..HETCHEW, HEPTCHH, HNGXT..ugh” wiping his now reddened nose with a tissue. He could tell it was gonna be a while until this fit ended.

Later that night, everyone on the plane fell asleep and Gyu was the only one awake due to his itching nose. Every time he had to sneeze, he would pinch his nose closed and rub aggressively in circles to quell the itch. Sometimes it worked, others however, not so much. “HXGT, HGXXT”. His sneezes must’ve been a tad bit too loud this time, because right after he sneezed, the lady who was next to him shifted and stirred different directions—and her coat rubbed against Beomgyu’s nose.

“ha...he—HEPTCHH, HATCHEW, HPTCH, ATCHHEE..HA..HAGNXT” The sneezing fit was just loud enough to wake up all of the people near him. His face was bright red, he turned his head back down “Sorry..” before stuffing his nose in tissues once again. Everyone on this plane was probably sick of his sneezes and Gyu could feel it. He decided to take another trip to the restroom, which would officially be his 6th time there.

As he went inside, he spotted the tissue paper roll and ripped a piece of tissue paper off, and twisted it until the top end was sharp and pointy. Taking a deep breath, he then inserted the tip of the tissue into his nose and gently started moving it around. Some hitching went on for around a minute until he hit a particularly sensitive spot and let all of the built up pressure out; “HATCHEW HBXGTT HTCHH, ACHEE, AGNXGT...Ah..HA—APTCHH, HTCHEW” a short sniffle left his nose and he looked at the tissue to find a not so pleasant view of snot..grabbing a new piece of paper, he gently hovered it over his sensitized nose and softly blew. “Gyu...is that you?” a sleepy Yeonjun mumbled across the door. Although they were sitting in different sections, Beomgyu had even managed to wake up his other members with his fit. The younger slowly opened the door and stuffed his face in Yeonjuns collarbone.

“I hate cat allergies...”

•••

guys I realized why I haven’t been getting requests in my inbox😭the asks weren’t on...but they are now so you can just send requests to me :)

[going-dead]

Phic Phight:Ghostly Inconvenience

Words:1672

@currentlylurking Team Human My First 2021 phic phight phic 

Prompt from @Slyph-feather :Would love to see Danny dealing with some of the minor inconveniences/differences in being a ghost; slower heartbeat, sickly pallor, maybe not showing up correctly in photographs, etc... bonus points if this is like in the school setting (because I think that would be funny)

Danny thought he had all his ghost problems figured out, or at least was aware of all of them, at this point. Afterall he’s had his powers for almost a year now. He was wrong, oh was he wrong. 

It was the first day of his sophomore year, no longer at the bottom of the high school food chain. He stood in line to get his picture taken for his school ID. Sam and Tucker had different classes for first period so they were off getting their pictures somewhere else. After a few minutes of board waiting it was his turn. Paulina skipped past him to get her ID and look at the picture she just took. 

Danny told the photographer his name and she entered a few things into her computer before gesturing for him to stand in front of the camera. Danny tried to make a few last second adjustments to his hair. “Okay smile!” The camera woman called out as he was blinded by a flash of light.

Danny started walking over to the ID station but was stopped. “Oh hold on dear the photo came out pretty blurry I’ll have to retake it. It’s no big deal don’t worry you probably just moved too quickly after the flash went off, stay still after the picture is taken okay?” 

Danny sighed but did what he was told. After another blinding flash and staying as still as possible Danny looked towards the woman. The camera woman bit her thumb staring at the computer in front of her. “Okay it still was blurry stay there I’m going to take a few at once one of them will turn out good.”

Danny was pretty sure at this point he was going to go blind as he blunk the spots out of his vision from the repeated flashes. Honestly this was getting pretty tiresome already. He walked up to the woman silently praying at least one picture turned out fine. She clicked through the photos face growing more and more confused with each one. “Uh is something wrong?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Almost all of the photos turned out blurry and the ones that didn’t are weird.” She saw his questioning face. “You’ve heard of red eye right? What happens when you take a picture and sometimes the eyes of the people in the picture show up red? Well I can’t say I’ve seen this version of it in all my years of photography.” She turned the computer to face him more. On the screen it was a photo of him. The area around him was blurred, the only thing in focus was him, almost too in focus, and what really shocked him was his eyes in the photo. His eyes were glowing green in the picture, almost like when you took a picture of a cat in the dark. 

Danny felt like a deer in headlights, what were the chances that she would make the connection of him not being human? The woman just shrugged. “Well it looks like we won’t be able to get a proper photo today. You can use your school photo from last year for your ID for now until retakes in a week.” He let out a sigh, it wasn’t too bad though he didn’t really look much different from the year before. At most he grew two inches. Though it was weird that it happened. He wondered  if it was because of his ghostly half. He didn’t exactly take many or really any photos of himself. Danny walked over to the ID station to explain his situation and hoped that this wasn’t how the rest of the day would go.

During second period it was time for the sophomores to get their health checks done. Though most students were pretty sure it was mostly just an excuse for the local college’s medical students to get some more patient contact hours and hands on practice. This time he did share a class with his friends which was nice. Though it wasn't like they could go into an exam booth together. Calling them booths was a bit of a stretch though really they were just four curtains with equipment to take vitals and a chair inside. There were about a dozen or so lined up in the gym. 

“Daniel Fenton come to booth five please.” A man called stepping out of one of the booths as he pulled a pair of gloves on. 

Danny walked over to said booth and pulled the curtain shut behind him. The man motioned for him to sit down in the chair. Danny obliged and sat down he bounced his leg as he watched the man prepare the equipment. “Alright good morning Danny. I’m Josh, I'll be doing your check up today. It’s just a simple overview of your health no need to be nervous. All I’ll be doing is taking your vitals and checking your reflexes and the sort. Any questions?” 

Danny shook his head. He was nervous though, he couldn’t help it. He had tried his best to avoid any type of medical setting ever since the accident. It would be the first time since then that someone actually took a close look at him. But it would probably be fine right? Not like he would be giving a blood sample here or anything. 

It went fine at first as the man -Josh- checked his reflexes, checked his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. He then affixed a blood pressure cuff to Danny’s arm and stuck a temperature probe in his mouth. Once the results appeared on the machines screen his head tilted a bit. “You usually run a bit cold? Hm your pulse is a bit slower than average than normal too.”

Danny silently cursed. “Uh yeah that's normal for me.”

“Well as long as it’s within your baseline there’s nothing really to worry about. I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs now okay? The stethoscope is a bit cold so be prepared.” Josh warned. When he started to listen to Danny’s heart he seemed at a loss again. “Give me one second okay? I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked out through the curtain. Well that probably wasn't a good sign. 

Josh returned a minute later with an older man in tow. “Danny, this is Dr. Bears he’s just going to double check something for me.” 

Danny nodded his head giving the doctor an awkward smile. The doctor pulled out a stethoscope of his own and placed it over Danny’s chest. He seemed to listen for a few seconds before moving onto a different region. He gave a small grunt before motioning Josh over. “It’s faint but he does have a heartbeat.”

“Well I know that. He’s clearly alive, he's going to have a heartbeat Doc.”

Danny laughed awkwardly as he continued to watch the two interact. “Try listening again. You’ll probably have issues with the mitral and tricuspid regions though, even I could barely hear it.” The doctor motioned towards Danny before walking out of the booth.

A few minutes later a bunch of other medical students filled into the tent to try to listen to his heart beat. Danny wasn’t sure how he felt about being a case study for a bunch of med students but as long as they didn’t figure out his secret he wouldn’t worry about it too much. 

By the time the bell rang to signal the end of the period half the college students there had listened to Danny’s chest. After emerging from the booth he was met with confused looks from his friends he waved them off promising to explain it to them later.

By the pattern that was emerging Danny was dreading third period. It was english with Mr. Lancer. After everyone took their seats Mr. Lancer stood in front of the class and clapped his hands to bring the classes attention to him. “Alright  class I hope you all enjoyed your summer break. I have exciting news for this school year. Due to the grant given to our school we now have laptops for you all to use during class.” 

The class broke out in whispers and Danny started to have a bit of hope for the rest of the day. Once the laptop cart was wheeled in and each was assigned and passed out to each student they were instructed to make accounts for them. The moment Danny turned the laptop on it gave him a shock. He let out a yelp and barely managed to restrain himself from knocking the thing off of his desk. He shook his hand trying to dispel the pain. He gave the laptop a hesitant poke, no shock. He started on his task of making an account, but was quickly interrupted by the screen glitching out. Danny groaned, occasionally electronics would bug out around him if he was in a particularly sour mood, of course it had to happen today. He waited for the screen to return to normal before trying to continue. 

He just managed to get the account created when it gave him another shock. He yelled in shock once more. Immediately after the lights flickered and all the laptops in the room shut off and the one in front of him started to smoke. The whole class was staring at him and he shrunk under their gaze. They all had bigger problems though as his laptop caught fire and set off the fire alarms. 

“Great Gatsby! Everyone out of the building now!” Mr. Lancer yelled ushering the teens out and leading them to the parking lot. 

Once Mr. Lancer made sure they were all accounted for Sam elbowed Danny in the ribs. “Nice going Danny.” Danny just put his head in his hands and groaned while Tucker pat him on the back. Why couldn’t he just have a normal life? Or just a normal day for once in his half life.

[valwrite]

the bella-vista avenue book club; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: if only she’d double checked her Amazon shopping cart, Y/N L/N wouldn’t find herself torn between what book to give her hot neighbor next.

warnings: fluff, cheesiness, a slither of smut, mentions of a car accident, cooper is a basic dog name, i know but stfu about it.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 6455.

author’s note: this fic took way too long to write, bye. no but for real, i’ve been back in uni for one month and so far i’ve: done way too many assignments; had more breakdowns than a disney child star; had a covid scare; and spontaneously dyed my hair dark blue/green at 4am instead of finishing an essay. we’re doing well, folks :)

It took exactly twenty one days for the loneliness to kick in.

On the day the lockdown was first announced, Y/N L/N felt the most confusing sentiment of relief and fear blended together. She'd spent just about the whole day in the meeting from Hell, during which three people had stormed out of after countless shouting matches had broken out and her boss had blatantly fired one of the guys from her department, right in front of everyone. When she did eventually get out of said meeting- a whole two hours later than her usual work days ended -, she was struggling with an impending migraine, threatening to blur her eyesight the whole drive home. She arrived home safely that evening, by the force of some miracle, only to find countless texts from relatives and friends alike, detailing the quarantine announcement and all the rules that came with it. Though concerned over the state of the world battling against the rapidly spreading virus, Y/N was just glad there would be no meetings for a while.

Quarantine was exciting at first. In the normal day-to-day life she lead, Y/N often found herself falling short on time to do things she truly enjoyed. There was just always one more task needing done at work; one more errand to complete; one more mile to run. By the time she stepped into her home come the end of the day, her eyelids were always battling to stay opened. So, it was very fair to say that the sudden infinite amount of free time had her feeling rather excited.

Day two and she'd already set herself a list of goals to spend all this time on, a chance to do all the things her schedule got in the way of. Of course, with the situation at hand, all these goals were modified to be achievable from within the confines of her home. The first goal she achieved was knitting a sweater. Granted, it was a mess she'd ended up trying to turn into a dog sweater only to watch as her fur-baby, Cooper, chewed it into rags.

There was no goal on the list to be good at all those goals.

In the following weeks, Y/N found herself trying her hand at pottery - she both made and broke a mug -, baking - the first cake burned but the second she made was actually pretty edible -, guitar playing - it really was just like riding a bike: one never really forgets how to do it - and many other hobbies. In between finding her artistic calling in life, it seemed family quiz nights became the norm.

But twenty one days, that's when she finally took notice of just how lonely living had become for her. A full twenty one days of not having made eye contact with anyone outside of a screen or who happened to not own four paws and a tail.

The loneliness wasn't unique to her, she was very aware. But she was stuck quarantining in a house all by herself, hours away from any of her family and she knew it was going to be a fair while before she even spoke with someone face to face. Much longer than most people. She was still at the point where even bringing up the thought of going to the store- with a trusted mask on, of course - would send her mother into a spiral of worse case scenarios and her father would be threatening to call her doctor.

As neurotic as the two could be about her health, Y/N completely understood their reactions. Things had never really been the same since her accident, even with the years gone by.

She was sat on her sofa- well, actually, sat on her floor, with her back against the sofa - when the door bell rang. She was up at lighting speed, bounding her way over to the front of the house before peaking a look through the peep hole and finding no one there. Unfazed by this, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to unveil a package at her doorstep, the ever familiar Amazon logo splashed across it. In the past few weeks, the delivery service and her bank account had become well acquainted, with most of her new found hobbies being aided by it.

In a matter of seconds, she'd picked up the package, shut the door and made her way into her kitchen, a drawer being pulled open as she dug through it for a pair of scissors. The package was ripped up and there she found a sight she wasn't awaiting, her eyes widening ever so slightly and a "Huh." noise escaping her.

There, laying on the remaining cardboard package, sat a hardback copy of A Tale Of Two Cities. And right next to it sat an identical copy, both of them staring up at Y/N.

“This can't be right, right?” She proposed the question down at Cooper, who'd at some point sauntered in to the kitchen and sat down at her feet, his tail wagging lazily upon being spoken to.

Sure enough, when she checked her receipt online, there was only one copy on the list. She wondered if it was perhaps a “buy one, get one free” kind of deal but quickly found no evidence to back up her hypothesis.

Thinking of what the right thing to do would be, Y/N on instinct began to investigate how she could possibly return the additional book they'd sent to her. As she came to the realization that it would entail her having to return both books and, then, waiting once again for a copy to be sent to her, she changed her mind instantly. A few other solutions came to mind: she could mail it to her sister-in-law, she was just as much of a book worm as Y/N; or she could keep it until the next time she needs a birthday present for someone; or she could just keep both of the copies, even if it felt a little wasteful.

It was only later on that very evening, as Y/N chopped away at some onions and was struggling to contain her tears- she had a spoon in her mouth because her mother swore it stopped you from crying, spoiler: it did not -, that the perfect idea struck.

In the corner of her eye she spotted him, strolling about his own kitchen. He hadn't lived next door for very long, he'd only moved in at the very start of the year, if she remembered correctly. And though they had never really spoken or interacted- polite waves and stiff smiles when spotting one another either leaving or arriving home wasn't exactly very conversational after all-, Y/N couldn't help but decide he was going to be the honorary recipient of the book. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Well, he could use the book to keep his fireplace alight, but Y/N was more eager to just think optimistically about it.

With her mind firmly made up, she neatly wrapped the book in some stray wrapping paper she'd found in her junk drawer and tied a neat, makeshift bow around it. His doorstep was only a couple feet from her own and it wasn't long till she was stood right in front of it, finger hovering over the doorbell as she wrestled with the thought off handing the present directly to him. She recalled one night, where her bedroom curtains had been wide open to let in the moonlight, and he'd walked past his own bedroom window, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The image of water dripping down those defined abs made her mind up and she placed the wrapped book next to his door, the little note she'd written taped on to it carefully.

Happy housewarming! I hope you're taking care during these trying time! - Y/N, your neighbor from door 27. p.s. Cooper (the German Shepherd) says sorry for peeing in your flowers :(

A few days later, as Y/N and Cooper arrived home from their daily walk, a mysterious package sat on the doorstep. What made it mysterious was the fact it wasn't from Amazon, nor from her local grocery store either. Cooper possessed no hesitation and dashed over to investigate, his tail beginning to wag as Y/N approached the front door.

“What is it, Coops?” She crouched down, her hand rubbing over the top of his head as his tongue dangled out of his mouth. There was a small piece of paper stuck on the package and, at first, she wondered if perhaps her attempt at a kind gesture had backfired and the hot neighbor had just dropped it back off. Then, she read the note. “Housewarming? Took you a while. This Dickens guy's good, hope he finally get's some popularity soon. - Daveed, your neighbor from door 28.” A smile crept onto her face as she learnt his name. It felt nice on her lips. His calligraphy skills only made the name look prettier. “P.S. check this book out, author is a real hidden gem. P.S.S. tell Cooper it's chill, I got my revenge and peed in his flowers.”

It was there on her doorstep, with a thin layer of sweat decorating her face and a tired out dog at her feet, that Y/N upgraded Daveed from hot neighbor to hot and funny neighbor.

It was almost like an otherworldly sign when Y/N stumbled over a chew toy the next day, her whole body slamming right into her bookcase and out from it fell a book, smacking her right on her head to add yet another bruise on to her list. Her mother had always joked that she bruised easier than a peach, partially on account of her incapability to walk five paces without stumbling over air or slipping on dry ground.

She let out a groan, her hand rubbing at the spot the book hit her and she reached down to grab her attacker- which lay face down - off of the floor. The cover turned out to be that of The Great Gatsby and the sudden urge to wrap it up, attach a note and drop it over at Daveed's doorstep became overwhelming. It still felt so personal to know his name.

Was she seriously about to use a book as an excuse to try catch a glimpse of her hot neighbor, who just yesterday was claiming to have peed on her flowers? Yes, yes she was. Because, after all, he was hot. And if society had taught her anything, it was that hot people were excused of everything. Okay, perhaps she was exaggerating just a little bit but it all added up to the same thing: Daveed was hot and she was thirsty.

Maybe quarantine really was beginning to have an effect on her.

A few hours later, Y/N was comfortably snuggled under her blankets in bed, the room illuminated by nothing but her television screen and the streetlights outside. A door opened somewhere, her anxious brain questioning if it was one of her own doors but the sudden laughter she could hear changed her train of thought quickly.

Oh my god, his laugh was music to her ears. And, oh my god, she'd actually made him laugh.

She lay back, wondering which part of her note had made Daveed laugh as consciousness slowly slipped away from her. One house away, her hot and funny neighbor was near mirroring her position in his own bed, his head replaying the note he'd received from the cute girl next door.

Not too sure about this author, he seems to have a fetish for big feet! I'm beginning to question exactly what kind of weird foot erotica you read, Daveed from door 28! -Y/N, your foot hating neighbor. P.S. this guy definitely needs more clout, can't you just picture his writing being used to teach the younger generations? P.S.S. Cooper isn't happy about you peeing in his flowers but he is happy about the treats.

Two days later, in the morning, Y/N was sat at her kitchen island. Her computer lay open in front of her, untouched for the past half hour as she flipped through the pages of her book and sipped away at the smoothie she'd blended up for herself. Cooper lay sound asleep under her seat, the occasional snore coming from the pup. It was those moments in her quarantine that she enjoyed most, just pure tranquility. It took her mind off of the loneliness.

A feeling overcame her, as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. It was almost like she could feel someone's eyes on her. She tore her own eyes away from the printed text and checked her surroundings vaguely. It was only when she looked straight ahead, out of the window that she spotted the intrusive stare of his.

They were sat in near parallel, him also sat at his kitchen island with a computer opened, only he had a mug of coffee instead of a smoothie. When their eyes made contact, he grinned at her, waving the book in his hand before pointing at the cover. The Great Gatsby.

He really was reading the book she'd sent over.

Mirroring his actions, she lifted up her own book, the one he'd sent over all those days ago. The Hobbit.

It was short, it was sweet and it was the longest they had ever interacted off paper. Even without verbal communication, so much was said between them both in that small instance. It was a sign that these little book deliveries were appreciated, they both cared enough to read whatever the other sent over.

Maybe it was time to consider Daveed her hot, funny and caring neighbor.

The book exchanges continued onward for weeks.

Daveed sent over a collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers, his attached note read: Thanks for putting me onto Fitzgerald, gonna have to see if the school board will let me teach his work in my lectures. Think they might be against it, what ya think? In the meantime, check these indie short stories out. Think Cooper will resonate with the wolf in the Red Ridding Hood story. -Daveed, your literature professor neighbor. P.S. Noticed the Raptors jersey on your washing line, tell your boyfriend the Warrior in me is unimpressed.

To which Y/N replied to with, alongside a copy of Twilight,: Cooper loved the Red Ridding Hood story, but he says you remind him of the grandmother in it. Speaking of wolves, check out this classic example of American literature, the lack of emotions this author puts into her writing is truly astounding. -Y/N, the Raptor next door. P.S. The Raptors jersey is mine, but I'll applaud you for smoothly trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. For the record, I do. He's tall, dark haired and lives in my imagination. P.S.S. Could you ask your girlfriend if she knows any good foundations? I'm thinking of changing mine.

He took less than a day to fire back with a copy of 50 Shades Of Grey: If Cooper is the wolf, and I'm the grandmother, would that make you the girl? I think the romance in this book is quite poignant, it really values the emotional over the physical. - Daveed, your grandmother neighbor. P.S. Not sure about my girlfriend's foundation, seeing as she doesn't exist, but I use L'Oreal. Very creamy, or whatever it is foundation is meant to be like. P.S.S. You looked cute in your paint splattered t-shirt the other day.

Not even an hour later, he opened his door to find a hardback of the Holy Bible and the following: I went into that book expecting a rush of happiness and sweetness, but ended up feeling scared and turned on in the most confusing way. I worry about your taste, Daveed, and that is why I'm recommending this book to you. This will cleanse you of all you've done wrong, my friend. -Y/N, your concerned neighbor. P.S. I'm not the girl, I'm the huntsman. P.S.S. Your dog is so cute, Cooper wants her/his number.

It took 45 days of lockdown for Y/N to finally venture out to her local grocers, tired of ordering food online and desperate for some human contact which didn't have to be separated by a great distance and united by a glass screen and a stable internet connection. She'd felt wrong; out of place; strange the whole time she'd been wandering up and down the aisles of the shop, her mask secured on her face and a near full basket hanging on her arm.

The fact Cooper was at home, holding down the fort for the time being gave her a little comfort.

Despite paying through self-service, and using a contactless card payment, her father's voice was ringing in her ears, scolding her for even taking the risk of stepping outdoors. Naturally, she appreciated his caring tendencies but she liked to consider herself old enough and smart enough to manage her own health problems.

With four bags stacked awkwardly in her arms, she took a few steps away from her car, attempting to peak over her shopping to see just where exactly the gate to her garden was. She could very faintly hear Cooper's excited whining, his paws scratching against the metal gate.

It was the sound of a voice, a very distinct voice, calling out her name that halted her movement and turned her head.

“Let me,” He, Daveed from door 28, paused, his hand clutching at his heaving chest. As her eyes drifted over him briefly, she took note of the trainers, the sweaty running shorts and, most of all, his bare chest, perfectly lined abs scattered along him. “get that for you.”

Before Y/N could so much as protest, Daveed had already snatched all four bags from her arms and was stood holding the gate open for her, a stupidly handsome smile decorating him. Her mask was still firmly held up but she smiled beneath it and done her best to share her gratitude with him.

“You don't need to do that.” Despite her words, she never attempted to take her bags back from him, instead cautiously slipping her way past him into her open garden. Cooper launched his paws up onto her, a bark of excitement escaping him before he licked at her arm and redirected his attention to Daveed. Cooper was still fairly young, not even a year old yet, but he was a fierce dog when it came to guarding his owner from any stranger. So, for Y/N to turn back and find him happily circling Daveed's legs, his favorite toy in his mouth and his tail wagging at lighting speed, it was purely a shock to her system.

And the clearest sign she'd ever seen that Daveed, whether he was a complete stranger to her or not, could be trusted.

“Where should I leave these?” He ignored her protest, effortlessly walking up the path of her garden with the heavy bags secure in his hands. Having him around her, all sweaty and heavy breathing and half dressed was more of a health hazard than her trip to the shops. Y/N began to wonder if it was legal to look so good.

“Uh, just,” She fished through her purse for her door key, avoiding the temptation to peak at his abs again. “on the table over there, if you don't mind.” She nodded her head in the direction of the small table sat out on her front porch and, within a couple seconds, she felt as Daveed brushed past her, so close she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

He done exactly as she requested and lay the bags gently to rest on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing. Y/N had to wonder if this was a purposeful action, a way to tempt and seduce her, as if he needed to try much to succeed at that. She'd more or less been whipped for him the second he delivered his first book to her.

“Are you looking after yourself?” Her parents had asked this every time they spoke on the phone - which was basically a daily occasion - but hearing it from Daveed felt refreshing, as though she'd never heard the words before; as though she'd never been spoken to with such tenderness. She let her eyes meet his face, a dangerous choice when she found a dazzling smile reflected back at her.

“I am.” Was it possible for a smile to be brighter than the sun? “Are you?”

“Yeah. Even started eating kale.” Daveed chuckled and she followed suit, because his laugh was infectious and she would willingly let it consume her. “It tastes like shit, don't get me wrong, but it's gotta count for something, right?”

“Oh, totally, kale-boy.”

“Excuse me, I'd prefer if you called me by what I really am: a kale-man.”

The mask slid down the bridge of her nose as she smiled wider than the Cheshire cat. In her mind, she cursed her heart-eyes behavior but it did nothing to halt it, Daveed simply put her on edge in the best way.

“It was nice to finally hear your voice, it's cuter than I thought.” She wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having on her, if each word and every gesture of his was carefully calculated to make her weak in the knees. “I'll save you from my sweaty smell and head off now, I can hear the shower calling my name.”

The last thing, yet also the best thing, Y/N needed to be envisioning was a water soaked Daveed. “I didn't want to say anything but, yeah, you smell worse than Cooper's breath.”

“There's the attitude from all your notes!” Daveed had at some point stepped closer to her, to the point where it was likely a big enough inhalation of a breath would have their chests touching. He was so tall, and muscular. “I'll see you around, Y/N from door 27.”

For two minutes she stood there, mask slapped across her face and her breath caught in her throat, nothing but the raw memory of his body so close and, yet, so far away from her own. She made her way indoors, finally, in a zombiefied state. Cooper trailed happily behind her through the house and all the way into the kitchen and, like the good pup he was being raised to be, he helped put away a few of the groceries, by greedily grabbing at the packet of dog treats when something else in the bag caught Y/N's attention.

“Thank you for the bible, now may I rebut with a copy of the Torah? The characters might seem similar but I swear it's different. Friend? Was that you officially friendzoning me, Y/N? And to think I was willing to look past the fact you're a raptor.” She mumbled allowed without even noticing, her eyes drifting across the note in her hand. When Daveed had snuck this into her shopping, she didn't know. Perhaps he'd left it earlier on that day and simply scooped it into the bags after carrying them for her. That sure made more sense than her theory of him hiding the book down his running shorts. “P.S. My dog and I share a number, so I guess I'll just have to give you that one. Just tell Cooper no phone calls past ten o'clock, that's her bedtime.”

She'd never thought it would be so easy to achieve her hot neighbor's number, but the crumpled paper in her hand told her differently.

The room was dark. Or maybe her eyes were closed. Y/N honestly didn't know nor care enough to find out which was the truth. No, all she cared about was the feeling of her nerves being lit on fire and simultaneously soothed. As the moments passed, she became more and more aware of the predicament she found herself in. Her head was thrown back on the comfort of someone's pillow- it couldn't be one of her own, it was far too plush and soft -, both her legs were bent up at the knee, her hands were busy grasping on to anything and everything close by (the bed sheets, the headboard, the hair of whoever was currently positioned between her thighs) and her mouth was agape. Hushed moans and whimpers of ecstasy filled the thick air of the room, and they were all coming from her.

The tension was building in her gut, a knot winding itself tighter and tighter all the while threatening to snap at any moment. Her hips started grinding in time with the warm tongue against her heat. Or, maybe, she'd already been grinding before. Nothing was making sense. Up was down, left was right and Y/N was on the brink of the most thrilling orgasm she'd felt in a while, or ever, really.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Her eyes- which apparently had in fact been opened all along-, with heavy eyelids, flickered down to between her legs. The man was certainly a specimen built to the likes of a Greek god, or something deriving from one. His fingers, buried deep within her, coaxed out another moan from her as they curled upwards. Daveed only smiled in satisfaction at this, as if he was getting more pleasure from it than she was.

Daveed.

Holy shit.

Daveed was between her bare legs.

Y/N bolted up and out of bed, hand reaching out and switching on the light. Just as she expected, there was no sign of Daveed in her room: not on her bed, not under her covers, not in her closet. But he was everywhere in her mind. Fully dressed, Y/N had never felt more naked in her entire life as she gazed out of her bedroom balcony door, over at the very window of the man who'd soaked her dream in a haze of steam. 

His light was on.

Worst of all, she found that Daveed was sat at his desk, typing away at something on his opened laptop. As though he felt her intrusive gaze, he looked up from the screen and met her eyes. Due to the distance between them both Y/N couldn't tell for sure but she could have sworn he sucked in his lower lip before releasing it in a teasing smile, his hand lazily waving at her.

With all the shame in the world, she shut her curtains and flopped back on to her bad.

In the span of five minutes she'd dreamed of Daveed doing unspeakable things to her with that mouth of his and been caught peeking into the bedroom of the very same man.

She hadn't phoned him.

She hadn't sent a book over to him.

She hadn't opened her blinds.

He'd been stuck thinking about her for eight days straight, yet it was beginning to feel like she'd been nothing but a creation of his own socially starved brain.

In the grand scheme of things, Daveed was not a narcissist. But he also wasn't an idiot. He was very aware of his own looks, of the lingering stares he'd receive from his students- male and female alike-, of the way soccer moms would shamelessly pay more attention to him than their own sons when he coached the local little league team. And, up until that point, he'd been sure Y/N had been reciprocating whatever feelings he'd amassed for her.

One thing Daveed was is decisive.

Mask pulled across the lower part of his face, he let himself into the gated front yard. In a couple seconds, Cooper had pounced up at him, tail wagging a million miles an hour and tongue lapping away at his face. He chuckled as he lowered the dog safely back onto all four paws.

It only took knocking on the door twice for him to get a “Hold on!” shouted from some part of the house as a response. Relief flooded him at the sound of Y/N's voice, reassuring him that everything was okay. But it only brought on more questions about her sudden lack of communication.

“Hell- Oh, Daveed.” A mask decorated her own face, meaning he was unaware  of the hint of a smile on her lips. All Daveed could see were her widened and tired eyes. “Can I help you?” He'd been stood staring her in silence for a little too long, it seemed.

"You never called.” He'd never sounded more pathetic in his life.

“You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Apart from appear in one of my wet dreams? “What?! No! I've just been busy and I also didn't want to burden you, if I'm honest.”

“I gave you my number so you'd call me, Y/N.”

“And here I thought it was so our two dogs could kick off their fairy-tale romance.”

“As their parents, don't you think it's our responsibility to get along?” Daveed wanted to ask what had kept her busy for eight days. He wanted to know what she thought about in the morning, in the evening. What she thought about him. About the prospect of there ever being a “them”. But it wasn't the time nor the place. “Promise you'll call.”

“I promise I'll call you, loser.” She laughed behind her mask, leaving him with a longing to see her smile. “Now get lost, I've probably just burnt my omelette because of you.”

Daveed had just closed his front door as he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket, an unknown number displayed across the screen.

“You owe me an omelette.” Were the first words he heard as he answered it.

Two months passed. The quarantine rules had loosened and tightened over and over again. The supermarkets had restocked their shelves many times. An entire season had come and gone. And Y/N and Daveed had spoken nearly every single day on the phone.

He'd come to learn a few key things: a health scare had kept her busy those eight days; she was allergic to bullshit and always called him out on his; she loved rose wine, or any wine really; she had the most beautiful mind.

She'd also come to learn some stuff about him: he was a university professor, specifying in classic literature; despite the muscles, he was one heck of a dork; he knew a little too much about the rap industry and was prone to throw himself into tangents about the subject; his voice was even more heavenly in the morning.

“Make yourself something to eat,” Daveed spoke down the line, a twinge of excited demand in his voice. “pour yourself a glass of wine and go up to your bedroom balcony.”

“Ooh, someone's feeling bossy tonight, huh?” Y/N laughed, switching the phone between hands as she pushed herself off of her couch, disturbing a sleeping Cooper. After a few strokes to his head, she began her journey to the kitchen, suppressing a laugh as the tired dog chose to follow her, much like he done all the time. “Am I allowed to ask why I'm doing this?”

“Just do it, before I hang up.”

“I'll add grumpy to list of Daveed Moods tonight.”

With a bowl of heated up leftover pasta, a bottle of red wine and a glass balanced in her hands, and her phone glued between her ear and her shoulder, Y/N found her way up stairs to her bedroom. She was incapable of turning on the lights until she'd put down the items in her hand. It was then, as the lights lit up her room in a warm, golden hue, that she noticed Daveed.

No, not in her room. That would have been completely creepy, and partially arousing.

He was sat out on his own balcony, room lit up behind him, with a dish of unknown food, some wine and a candle lit in front of him. He was dressed casually, yet Y/N still found herself on the cusp of drooling at the sight of him. And when he finally noticed her, Daveed waved with the most shit eating grin on his face.

“Cute onesie. What is it, a bunny?” His tone was friendly, as always, but that never stopped her from groaning in frustration at his teasing.

“Did you call me up here just to criticize my choice of clothing, Diggs? Because I was taking part in an intense Criminal Minds marathon before someone interrupted me.”

“I actually called you to invite you to enjoy the evening with me.” It was a curse and a blessing to be so foul minded, Y/N's instantly flooding her with different meanings to his words. “The sky looked pretty tonight and I need someone to appreciate it with me. Unfortunately, you're the only one who answered my call.”

“I won't hesitate to hang up.”

“Stop talking and sit down, your dinner'll get cold.”

Who knows how much time really passed as the two sat staring out at the other, bellies filled by food and wine, hearts filled with desire and longing. There was a great distance between the two balconies but Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so close to someone, even before social distancing had become the norm.

“It's crazy, I know. How can we be prepared to teach classes now that the infection rates are higher than back at the start of the year, where we all shut down?” Daveed had brought up the fact he was going back to work soon, a topic which made him a perfect blend of relieved, infuriated and confused. “I give it one semester till they make us go back to online teaching, honestly. What about you? Any signs of getting back to your office?”

“We just got the go ahead last week, we're opening back up in a fortnight.” Her reply was paused by a sip of wine, her second glass of the night. “I say we but I really mean them. My doctor told me I'm not allowed to go back yet, apparently I've got some tests left to do.”

The silence that ensued lasted quite a few minutes, then Daveed sighed down the line.

“Is it alright for me to ask why?” He seemed to regret his words instantly, at least from the limited expressions Y/N could read on his face. “I mean, the doctor thing. Are you sick or...?”

“Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner.” In their months of getting to know each other, there were times she couldn't even open the door to him when he'd deliver some of her mail or drop off a bunch of flowers he'd stolen from a neighboring garden. It was always under the excuse of doctor's orders and he never questioned or doubted her, he just accepted her for everything she said and gave of herself. “I was in a car accident a couple years ago. It wasn't fatal for anyone, thankfully, but it was pretty bad. One of my lungs ended up collapsing.

I pretty much lived in and out of the hospital for months, which almost sucked more than having a lung that was pretty much giving up on me. I don't know if you've ever spent a lot of time in hospital but it's like attending your own funeral. Everyone that visits you has this look of grief, everything they say is apologetic and there are so many tears. Not to mention the fact the place smells like a crime scene with how much bleach cleaning they do. Anyways, I'm okay now but I guess they consider me high risk or something so they're taking extra steps to make sure I'm as safe and as far away from that virus as possible.”

“So, correct me if I'm wrong, but does that mean I won't be able to take you out anytime soon?” Daveed spoke up finally, and boy was she glad that he didn't want to stick on the topic of her hospital stay. It was a dark and sad time, and she didn't want to experience any of that with him.

“Nope, not until I get permission from my doctor.”

“Can't believe I'm getting cock-blocked by some fucking virus.”

A laugh, so loud that Daveed heard it without his phone pressed to his ear, erupted from Y/N. “You'll just have to settle for balcony dates for now.”

“This isn't a date, Y/N.” It was his turn to laugh.

“Oh, sorry.” Clearly, she was worse at reading signs than she'd thought. She'd never felt more foolish in her life.

“When I eventually do take you on a date, there won't be so much space between us.” His words honestly had the chance to make or break her in that moment, her entire soul depended on whatever he said next. “It'll be a night where I take you to the most ridiculously expensive restaurant. We won't really like the food on the menu but we'll stay as part of a principle. You'll be reluctant to let me blow all my money on the bill but I'll get my way eventually. We'll find some excuse or reason to stay out. Maybe we'll find some piano bar, do some dancing, share some drinks. I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about how beautiful you look. We'll still be hungry because dinner was shit, so we'll get some fast food before you let me drive us home. I'll probably hold your hand while I drive. I'll walk you to your front door and, even if I really wish you'd invite me in, I'll be relieved when you don't. I'll try tell you how much I enjoyed our night but I'll probably fumble my words. You'll finally send me on my way but I'll find a way to steal a kiss from you. I'll probably think about your lips until the next date I take you on.”

“The english major really jumped out of you.” Y/N wished she didn't lack the self control to say something normal when a man spoke to her like Daveed did. “But, uh, that sounds really nice. Honestly. Except the bill part. We'll be splitting it or I won't be coming on that date.”

“You're so high maintenance, Y/N from door 27, but I guess that could work.” The eye-roll was audible in his tone. “Speaking of english major, I actually have a book for you to read.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I'll drop it round in the morning.”

“I'll be at the doctors in the morning, sorry.” The wine had rushed to her cheeks, heating them up and making the chill in the air all the more relaxing, lulling her into a half asleep faze.

“Don't worry, I'll leave you a note.”

[lovelylogans]

the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks. 

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink. 

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says. 

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits. 

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that. 

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly. 

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.” 

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier? 

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo? 

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.