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atlaswav · 6 months ago

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CATACLYSMIC ☾

INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.

Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.

With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence.

He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.

Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.

Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.

God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.

“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face.

Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.

His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’.

If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough.

“Have you found it?”

You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster.

You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.

“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”

“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”

Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself.

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.

How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write.

Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)

He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project.

The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project.

The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts.

“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”

You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.

Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect.

Statuesque.

His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul.

“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning.

You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.

“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s not good, either.”

You scowl at him.

“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand.

You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.

“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”

You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had.

You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself.

Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings.

His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him.

You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow.

You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman?

“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils.

“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance.

You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist.

Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light.

“It’s deplorable.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair.

“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”

You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh?

“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name.

Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either.

You were so wrong.

More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero.

He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.

Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious.

“Ratio.”

He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”

“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”

“Are you going to stop looking down at me?”

The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?

“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”

You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”

You glare at him. Your chest stings.

He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”

“Why?”

“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”

Your eyes widen.

“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”

You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”

“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”

You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction.

“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”

“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”

His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer.

The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it.

He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant.

You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”

“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”

“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”

“Jackass.”

“Change it.”

You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks.

“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching.

“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”

“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”

“Then learn.”

“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”

“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”

“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”

“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”

“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”

He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line.

“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”

You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research.

Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands.

“I’m done.”

“Show me.”

You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully.

Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines.

But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.

He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light.

“It’s good.”

You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”

“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”

“Huh?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What potential?”

He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy.

You happened to be the one exception.

“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”

“You think I have potential?”

“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”

He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile.

Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas.

—

The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors.

He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such.

But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom.

You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns.

It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions.

You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was.

He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once.

He hated it.

It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him.

Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you.

“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it.

“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”

You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back.

With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again.

But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble.

The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation.

You wanted to slap him.

Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?

You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class.

You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you.

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Tutor me please.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”

“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”

He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”

He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”

You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”

He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”

He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.

But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you.

It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself.

When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door.

You were a picture to behold.

Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head.

You were messing with him again.

Two could play that game.

“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”

“What, like alcohol?” you huffed.

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.

He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be.

His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation.

It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?

“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”

“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed.

“You’re too smart.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“Smart ass,”

“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”

You groaned. “Where?”

He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief.

“You understand?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”

“I won’t. Now get out.”

“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge.

Remarkably, he pulled out two beers.

“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”

A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Wipe it off then.”

A frown. His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall.

“Drink and leave.”

“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness.

“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand.

“I do.”

“Are you lonely or something?”

“No, people are irritating.” Like you.

“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.

“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”

“If you say so.”

Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass.

One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath.

“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.

“What was that?”

“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so. He squints at the ground.

He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.

“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”

“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you hate me?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then why are you like this?”

Your eyebrows raise.

“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”

“...Sorry?”

“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”

You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south.

“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes.

“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.

“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”

“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”

“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”

“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought.

“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else.

As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall.

You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze.

You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?

“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.

“You tell me.”

Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices.

He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast.

“You’re a siren.”

“Am I?”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”

“I hate you.”

“Really?”

“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”

“Are you a masochist?”

“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”

“How? Why?”

“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”

“Are you normally this analytical of people?”

“No, which supports my point.”

“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”

“No. I hate you for it.”

“Let me go then.”

He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door.

“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it.

“Polar opposites.”

“I mean who am I to you?”

He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space.

“Veritas?”

“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.”

You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this.

He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”

“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”

“Night.”

Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill.

written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 14 days ago

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Hiii I think it would be soooo adorable if you could write a waitress reader x Logan where he's only soft with her and protective and the story is like tooth rotting fluff ❤️❤️❤️

I absolutely loved this request and it helped get me out of my writing block! I have been sick so it isn't proof read but I hope you still like it <3 request are open and so is my messages if anyone just needs to talk

He's your regular. Not the restaurants. Truth be told, he couldn't stand the food that was on the menu, but he bared it and ordered the same thing every time just so he could get a glimpse of you.

The two of you started to talk after the third or fourth time he came in, and he learned a lot about you. Usually, you wouldn't talk to regulars, especially about personal problems, but something about him made it easy to talk and not feel judged. With him coming in so often, it was easy for him to see if something was bothering you, and if something did, he made sure to take care of it.

As soon as you saw him walk in, you made sure to put in his order and grab his black coffee before going to sit him in your section. You were hoping he would come in today if you were being truthful. Earlier, there was a customer that was very flirty, and when he realized it wasn't going where he wanted, he left without paying. He did leave just a wonderful tip though...his number.

You sat Logan's coffee down in front of him and gave him a weak smile. "Your food will be up soon." You said as you started to turn to check on your other tables. His hand quickly grabbed your arm softly to stop you. "Can you add an order of fries to that?" He asked innocently. When you gave him a confused look, he just smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "They sound good...?" You giggled and wrote it on a ticket. "I'll go put that in right now for you."

Soon after, you returned with his order and sat everything down for him. "You need anything else?" You asked, not sounding as upset as you did when he first sat down. He nodded and pushed the plate of fries towards you, "sit down and eat, tell me what happened earlier, bub." You looked around before sighing and sitting down across from him once you noticed there was no one else in your section. "It's really nothing serious, just this customer..." You explained the whole situation, and Logan took note of how you described the man. Took note of his height, his hair color, his built, how he seemed like a cocky businessman. Logan made a promise to himself that he would handle anything that bothered his little waitress, and this was no exception.

Taglist:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

~~Note~~ happy new year!!! I hope 2025 is a great year for everyone! 2024 was tough for me but you guys really helped me in many ways and helped me find my love for writing again! Thank you to everyone who ever requested anything, I do still have some in my drafts that I'm working on but request are still open! I am starting student teaching soon so it might be slower uploads but I am determined to write as a form of self care this year 🩷

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baigepueckers · 2 months ago

Text

Nika Mühl X Reader

Beyond the Game

The arena surrounds you like a heavy blanket. It’s a sound you’re used to a mix of cheers, whistles, and the squeak of sneakers on the court. But tonight it feels different. Heavier. More personal…maybe it’s because you’re facing the Seattle Storm and more specifically, her.

Nika.

You spot her as soon as you walk onto the court for warm ups. She’s sitting on the Storm bench, her brown hair pulled into a sharp ponytail her posture upright and alert. Her warmup jacket is loose over her shoulders, but you can still make out the slight bounce of her knee a telltale sign she’s nervous. It’s one of the little things you’ve picked up about her over the years, first as teammates and later as something more.

Your heart clenches and you force yourself to look away. You can’t afford distractions tonight.

The two of you met back at UConn, thrown together in the intensity of one of the best women’s basketball programs in the country. It didn’t take long for you to click. Nika’s fiery energy balanced out your quieter focus and her teasing always managed to get you out of your head when the pressure felt like too much. Over time, the late night study sessions and post practice hangouts turned into something deeper. You fell in love…deep and unshakable.

But love didn’t keep you on the same team. The draft came and went, and now you’re a Las Vegas Ace while Nika is across the country in Seattle. Different jerseys. Different cities. Different teams.

You hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be to face her on the court.

The first quarter flies by in a blur. Seattle’s defense is relentless and your team is fighting for every point. You catch glimpses of Nika on the bench, her eyes fixed on the game but every so often, they dart toward you. She doesn’t smile when you glance her way. She doesn’t need to. The way her gaze softens, just for a moment tells you everything.

The second quarter is more physical. You’re battling for position, driving into the lane when you can trying to keep your team ahead. You catch a rebound off a missed shot and bolt toward the other end of the court, the sound of your shoes pounding against the hardwood echoing in your ears. Somewhere in the chaos, you hear her voice…sharp and commanding as she shouts instructions to her team.

It sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve heard that voice a hundred times in practices, but this is different. Now, she’s an opponent.

By the third quarter, exhaustion is creeping in. The game is tight and the tension on the court is heavy. Every possession feels like a battle.. your body aches, but you push through. You always do. You’ve learned that from her…Nika, with her relentless fire.

The fourth quarter is where everything unravels.

You’re running hard, cutting toward the basket…when it happens. A Seattle forward steps into your path setting a blindside screen. You don’t see it coming. Her body collides with yours and the impact sends you flying backward. There’s no time to think, no time to react. The back of your head hits the court with a sickening thud.

Pain explodes behind your eyes, sharp and overwhelming. The world spins and the crowd’s roar becomes distant. You blink rapidly trying to clear the haze but all you can see are the harsh overhead lights and blurry shapes moving around you.

Through the haze, you hear your name.

“Y/N!”

It’s her. You know it’s her.

You manage to tilt your head just enough to see the Seattle bench. Nika is on her feet…her hands gripping the edge of her seat like she’s about to bolt onto the court. Her eyes are wide with panic, her mouth slightly open as if she’s holding back a scream.

She wants to run to you. You can see it in the way her body leans forward…as if the only thing stopping her is the weight of the game and the unspoken rules that keep her on her side of the court.

The trainers are beside you now asking questions you can barely process. “What’s your name? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?” Their voices are gentle but insistent. You try to answer but your attention keeps slipping back to her. To Nika, who hasn’t moved from her spot even though her entire body looks like it’s trembling with the effort to stay put.

You try to lift your hand a weak signal, something to let her know you’re okay…but it barely moves. She sees it anyway and her hands fly to her mouth, you can see the tears welling in her eyes.

You don’t know how much time passes before they help you to your feet. The crowd cheers as you’re led off the court…though the noise feels distant and strange. Your legs feel shaky and your head is pounding but you glance over your shoulder one more time.

Nika is still standing…still watching. Her hands are clasped in front of her chest now, like she’s holding herself together.

Back in the tunnel you’re taken to the trainer’s room for evaluation. Your head is spinning and the bright lights are making your eyes sting but all you can think about is her.

Your phone buzzes on the bench beside you. You reach for it, fumbling slightly as you try and unlock the screen…It’s a text from her.

Nika💗: Are you okay? Baby Please. Please tell me you’re okay. I can’t sit here anymore.

Your chest tightens and your eyes blur not from pain, but from the ache of knowing how much this is killing her. You type back with shaky hands.

You: I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. Play your game.

The response feels hollow but you know it’s what she needs to hear. You imagine her reading it…clutching her phone like it’s a lifeline.

The game finishes without you on the court. The trainers cleared you from anything serious…a mild concussion, bruises that will ache for days, but nothing crazy. The anxiety in your chest hasn’t eased…you know your girl. You know she’ll be looking for you the second she can.

You’re just outside the locker rooms, every passing second dragging. Your phone vibrates in your hand, and you glance down at the screen.

Nika💗: Where are you? Are you still with the trainers? I’m coming to find you.

You barely have time to respond before you hear hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Nika rounds the corner, her hair damp from a rushed shower and her Storm warmup jacket thrown hastily on. Her eyes are scanning the hallway frantic, until they land on you. She stops for a split second, and then she’s running.

Before you can say a word, her arms are around you pulling you into a hug so tight it almost knocks the air out of your lungs. She buries her face into the curve of your neck, her breath warm and uneven against your skin.

“You scared the hell out of me, ljubav.” she whispers her voice full of emotion. “I thought…I didn’t know if you were okay. I couldn’t come to you. God, I hated it.”

Her words spill out in a rush like she’s been holding them in since the moment you hit the court. You wrap your arms around her pulling her even closer. The tension in her body is noticeable and her hands are clutching at your jersey.

“Baby,” you murmur, your own voice thick with emotion. “I’m okay. I promise, I’m okay.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks. “You don’t look okay,” she says, her voice soft. “You’re pale, and your head God, your head…”

“Gee thanks babe” you tease her while covering her hands with your own. “The trainers cleared me. Nothing serious…just some bruises and a small concussion.”

Her jaw tightens and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Her hands drop to your shoulders, holding you at arm’s length as her gaze hardens. “Don’t you ever do that to me again Y/N, you hear me?”

You blink at her surprised by the sudden intensity in her tone. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that” she says, her voice sharp but cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I couldn’t move, baby. I couldn’t come to you when you were lying there and it was killing me.”

Her words hit you, the raw vulnerability in her voice. You reach for her hands, squeezing them tightly. “Nika, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were there in the way I needed you to be. I saw you. I felt you.”

She frowns and she shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re not allowed to get hurt like that again” she mutters, her voice quieter now but no less serious. “I don’t care if we’re on opposite teams. I’ll get ejected if I have to. I’ll run across the court next time.��

You chuckle softly, the sound broken but genuine. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Her lips press into a thin line but you can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners. “You think I’m kidding babe?”

“I know you’re not.”

The two of you fall silent for a moment, the noise of the arena and the post-game chaos fading into the background. She leans down to kiss you, it’s passionate and intense. It makes you melt against her.

“I love you,” she says suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, leaning into her touch. “I love you too. Always.”

She swallows hard and pulls you back into her arms, holding you like she’s afraid to let go.

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eqt-95 · 7 months ago

Note

💙 for supercorp , pretty please!

oh brilliant! yes of course!! i was hoping for this one so i'd finally be motivated to write the scene that was inspired by this post. i have literally had it saved in my tumblr drafts since february. and yes i just scrolled through half of my 784 drafts to find it.

- - - - - -

“Actually no, we're not ‘dating’. We're bound together for infinity. Like the stars. So, fuck you, actually-”

Alex clicked the remote, freezing the screen to perfectly capture a very outspoken, very drunk Lena Luthor doing an uncanny impression of Taylor Armstrong in front of a throng of paparazzi.

“Can we watch it again?”

“No,” Alex answered tersely, setting the remote next to three overflowing folders, a coffee mug that needed to be filled with something a little stronger, and a cellphone she had to silence after the hundredth social media notification sent it rattling off the table.

Nia slouched in her chair with a ‘hmph’ and muttered something that sounded like garbled nothing to normal ears but very much like ‘never any fun,’ to Kryptonian ears.

“Right,” Alex continued, her attention directed across the table. She’d spent the majority of the recording with her face downturn and fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in what could only be described as ‘resignation’ mixed with the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ strategy she had been trying with Esme.. “Care to explain what compelled you to proclaim you... infinite, cosmic link with Supergirl?”

“Not really, no,” a much more subdued, much less drunk Lena answered.

“Seems pretty self-explanatory,” Nia chimed in, spinning in the chair next to Alex. “Luthor can’t hold her liquor.” She bounced a clicky pen on the table-surface to accentuate the point. Alex gritted her teeth.

“I most certainly can-”

“Channel 7 says otherwise,” Nia grinned. The clicky pen was pointed accusingly.

“That,” J’onn began, and then pen clicked in offense, “is the least of our concerns-”

“Exactly,” Alex interrupted while blindly swiping the pen from Nia's hand and slamming it onto the table. “Do you have any idea how many conspiracy theories have started because of this? This has gone national-”

“International, actually,” Brainy added. “Canada and Australia have both picked it up.”

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world is needling around about- about…” Alex’s face plunged closer to a shade of raspberry.

“About what, Alex?” Lena asked. She leaned forward, arms crossed with her super sexy calm, cool, and ceo-collected face. It was almost working too, except for the mischievous glint and flicker of her eyebrow that revealed she was not taking this remotely serious enough for the eldest Danvers sister. “About my throuple with Kara Danvers and Supergirl?”

Alex’s face found her hands. Nia sputtered laughter from behind her own. J’onn stared longingly toward the closed door. Brainy scowled in confusion.

“It cannot be a throuple if two members are the same person,” Brainy said, glancing quickly toward Nia who nodded in confirmation.

“CNN doesn't know that. But fine, call it infidelity, stepping out on-” Lena offered lazily.

“Still not the point. You’ve jeopardized Kara’s secret identity,” Alex interrupted crossly. “And now you've put her in danger of-”

“I thought it was sort of sweet.”

Five pairs of eyes turned toward Kara who, until now, had remained silently observed. She sat at the head of the table wearing her suit and a recent bout of puppy love. Two pairs of eyes were gobsmacked, the third was failing to hide the glee over the entire exchange, and the fourth included a quick wink that made Kara’s cheeks flush even redder and bat her figurative tail even harder.

“Sweet. Right, well,” Alex began again, “‘Sweet’ doesn’t exactly handle the problem, does it?”

“It’ll blow over; these things always do,” Lena added. “We can have Andrea run a boring fluff piece about my night on the town being a slew of misguided comments. Say I said the earth was flat and that I challenged the Second Law of Motion or something. Make it dry. Everyone will chalk it up to part of that.”

“Fine.”

“And we can put this whole thing to-”

“Don't you dare-” Alex warned.

“-bed.”

Alex sighed, J’onn climbed to his feet like a tired high school teacher, Nia bounced giddily in her chair, and Lena was already glancing over at Kara and giving her a look that suggested they were not going to make it through the day without a trip to the broom closet.

Kara's cheeks flushed even redder if that were remotely possible.

•••••••

And so a fluff piece was written, the tabloids took a few lazy swipes at another Luthor edging toward instability, and then the story deflated entirely into obsolescence. The news cycle moved on, Alex's blood pressure returned to normal, and Kara was permanently living on cloud nine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was great.

Everything was going swimmingly.

Until the second video was discovered.

From the same night.

Nia brought popcorn. J’onn brought a heavy sigh. Alex brought a decade of instantaneous aging.

“Care to explain?” Nia asked with her best angry-Alex impression.

Meanwhile Alex was struggling to unclench her jaw.

“Deep fake?” Lena offered lamely.

“Deep fake,” Alex parroted. “You think someone somewhere invested the time to deep fake Lena Luthor and Supergirl making out? For what? Fun? Kicks? Laughs?”

“They already spend hours writing steamy fanfiction,” Lena shrugged.

“They what-?” Alex choked.

“Hot, steamy, inspired sex, really-”

“No-”

“Kara, darling, do you remember the one with my desk and the full-length windows?”

Kara flushed but nodded. Nia squealed with delight. Alex had had it.

“Enough-”

“Or the one where we lived in an alternate universe and you were a cowboy and was your-”

“Stop. Stop it.”

Lena leaned back into her chair, a smile of victory spreading across her face.

“I’m just saying, stands to reason someone might show us in the throws of deep, passionate-”

“I don't want to know. I don't. Want. To know,” Alex interrupted, hands cupped around her ears.

“Cosplay?”

Again five pairs of eyes turned to Kara.

“Could've been cosplay.”

“I can't believe… J’onn can you… handle… this,” Alex waved between the two.

“Should we watch it again?” Nia suggested. “Just to check Kara's theory.”

And without preamble, she clicked play again. It was far fuzzier, far more amateur, and far less deniable than the first.

“Charlie, Charlie, baby look here,” the phone holder shouted over a group of laughing, tipsy NCU students. “Do the impression again, please? I want it for-”

“Yo, yo, check it out.”

“Is that-?”

The camera pivoted from the ginger-haired Charlie to a dark alley between

“Oh damn, is that Supergirl?”

“And… Lena Luthor?”

“I knew it. I told you!”

The stage whispers were doing far more for Alex’s discomfort than the shaky camera zooming 2x onto what was very clearly Supergirl pressing Lena Luthor into a wall and doing a very good job of ripping Lena’s $1,200 blouse open.

“Ooph, Mrs. Fischer is not going to be happy about that,” Nia commented.

A glitter of buttons bounced off the sidewalk, and Supergirl’s mouth was moving hungrily and decidedly across the exposed skin.

“We’ve seen enough,” Alex chimed in and reached, some might say ‘desperately’, for the remote in Nia’s hands. “Once already scarred me for life-”

“But we won’t know until we see drunk, cosplay-Lena’s face. It’s for science, Alex,” Nia answered, clutching the remote like the lifeline to a sinking ship and climbing onto and over the conference table just as ‘cosplay’-Lena pulled ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s mouth back to her.

“Bullshit,” Alex hissed, making quick work of scattering across the same table.

Meanwhile ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s hands were no longer visible and the gang of NCU students were actively chanting them on. “Nia Nal, if you do not turn that off right now-”

The chase continued under the table, over three chairs, and around a trash bin Nia knocked over in a valiant attempt to slow her assailant. And while Nia and Alex made a mess of the conference room, ‘cosplay’-Supergirl was making an absolute mess of ‘cosplay’-Lena’s bun-

“Never!” Nia huffed and side-spun before making a poor calculation and tripping over an empty chair. Alex saw her window and lunged, tackling Nia, gripping the remote free and slamming pause just as ‘cosplay’-Lena found the zipper to ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s suit.

“Do you have any idea the-” Alex’s vitriol stopped in its tracks. Why? Because they were totally and completely alone. No Brainy or J’onn and worse, no Lena or Kara. “What… where’d they go?”

“Probably the broom closet,” Nia mused.

- - - -

ask game

#this ending could've definitely been polished #but the queue is stacking up!#i've definitely landed way more asks than i was expecting!!#exciting times though #thanks for the ask!#fabulousglitch #ask game #qs with quinn

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gam3-b01 · 2 months ago

Text

winter

pairing(s): jeon wonwoo x reader

genre(s): angst

wc: ~1.3k

warnings: suggestive content (hankypanky related activities), just sad hours in general, minors dni just to be safe

(a/n: my first post on this blog, this was one of my earliest drafts and i needed to get it out of my system ahahsjdnd. the way some people might know who i am because i used the term hanky panky is concerning but also hilarious, if you see this i love you bro sorry for angst hours i stayed up too late to make sane decisions sorry i had to. song inspo for this fic is winter by two feet)

It's not a thing, right? This hasn't happened before.

But the familiarity with which you look up at him from under the covers slaps Wonwoo in the face before he has the time to process the content haziness clouding your eyes. His tense frame relaxes involuntarily, and he slips in beside you but not before checking your bare skin for any bruises he might have accidently left after almost soldering you to the mattress barely ten minutes ago. As he slips an arm around your middle and you tell him without any kindness whatsoever that his hands are way too cold for you (and that he should probably get checked for anaemia because, and he quotes, "even hell freezing over generates more fucking warmth than you do"), he realises he has to stop lying to himself and acknowledge the fact that realistically, this has actually definitely happened before.

This exact night, every single frame of it, happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one? No, the both of you were still together back then. Probably. What year was three years ago? Time was always a muddy, comically abstract concept when it came to each other for the both of you.

Maybe it would be easier for him to count the years winter to winter. Because when Wonwoo visits his hometown at the beginning of every December, a series of events occur. He sets his bags down at his place and spends the first week in radio silence recuperating with his family, ignoring the 20 odd messages he gets from Mingyu about his dog and updates (read: gossip) from their shared workplace. The next week usually is spent catching up with old friends mostly out of obligation, and the third week is occupied by Christmas. The fourth-ish week is when all of his friends asking about you begins to get to his head. By around the 28th of December, he's sick of lying awake in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to forget things that should never have happened in the first place. Eventually he sits up, runs a hand through his hair, puts on his glasses, and spritzes on something that you liked to call "sandalwood crack" before shrugging on his jacket and heading out.

Where to though? He pretends to think for a while before giving up. And when he steps into the bar after paying for his cab, he is never, ever surprised or secretly relieved when he spots you sitting in the stool furthest away from the air conditioning. You look wasted, but the soda cans strewn about you indicate otherwise. You've stopped drinking after the breakup. You're doing well with sobriety. He opens with that like the asshole he is, and you have the decency to cuss at him like a sailor and pass him a stool as you say something vaguely self-depreciating as a joke about the near-alcoholism you contracted back then. He opts for silence. And you ask him to take it easy despite him having opened the fire. Ever tolerant. Like the gentle undercurrents of a river (not like you didn't have a temper on you, you just tended to be nice when you saw him after long periods of time. Was it because you missed him? The mere thought had him shrivelling up a little inside). Wasn't he supposed to be the water sign between you both? He remembers the natal chart phase you had when you were nineteen, which reminds him you were his best friend of nine years before the both of you stopped talking. He expertly shoves that piece of information away before it tries to hurt him one more time.

(...What kind of best friend asks, no, begs him to leave and never contact them again? Maybe the kind whose best friend actually proceeded to do exactly that without ever putting up a fight? Fuck.)

Things somehow, without fail, end up leading you both to the nearest motel when one of you ends up saying something incredibly reckless and all the other person can do is gape hopelessly, words murdered in cold blood right when they were about to be bailed out from their throat. The rest of a night is a senseless, irresponsible blur, and then?

The rough part begins.

One of you is going to leave in the next thirty minutes if Wonwoo's doing his gut arithmetic right. He wished he sucked at math sometimes, he really did.

However, he blinks a bit. Something feels off, something feels different. You're not leaving (is it his turn this time..?). Instead, you're turning around, eyes vulnerable and still blown a little wide as you touch his hair with a flavour of fondness he could not imitate even if he tried his damndest to.

He freezes for only a second before his lips seek yours out of habit. He truly loathes the way he groans at how much it affects him, but what else is he supposed to do when he knows you're trying to hold back that little sound you make when you get desperate for him? He's almost willing to let you take the lead because he feels like his system is going into overdrive, willing to let you finally ruin whatever's left of him, but sanity prevails by a hanging thread as he takes back control from you with a firm hand on your jaw. His grip is gentle unlike earlier, and despite knowing you like it when he's mean to you, his eyes shine with something completely different when he breaks the kiss for a moment to take in everything he can about you right now and burn this anomaly into his memory.

(Because what else will he be ever be able to think of on every single cold, miserable night for many years to come after that look you gave him before he kissed you? That look that made it look like you still loved him, why did you have to do that?)

You're staring at him like you've been burned, and he's trying his absolute best not to flinch away when he sees raw, unabashed hurt begin to filter through your soft irises.

"Don't look at me like that." You start.

"Like what?"

"Like you-", you gulp nervously, eyes quickly losing the content sheen radiating off of you earlier.

"-like you actually want me or something."

Externally, the tenderness in his eyes is instantly replaced by whatever the fuck he usually looks like, but internally, he's trying his best not to scream. Your words are unfair, cruel even. How can the one person who knows him like the back of their hand not grasp the one fundamental truth that makes up his very core?

The alarm system inside his head built just for you tells him you feel sick, just like he does. He knows you've gleaned that much as well, and makes no effort to stop you as you slip out of the bed with the sheets hugging your chest in one fluid motion.

"I feel so sick, Wonwoo."

"I know."

Your heart is as tangled up as his is, and no matter how many times the both of you manage to land into each other's arms, neither of you seem to be capable of unravelling the other without tearing everything apart.

He watches you collect yourself before turning to him, face stone cold, with eyes that now look foreign to him as you deliver the parthian shot.

"I think that I should go."

#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen angst #svt angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen oneshot #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen #svt

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kairiscorner · 2 years ago

Note

For the I/atsv drafts:

14!

well hello hello again @sabcandoit >:) CONSIDER IT DONE !!

so imagine,

the atsv babes: when you lose your glasses

miles would probably see you at school as always, walk up to you and greet you a good morning, only to have you looking around, confused and restless, as you're muttering to a locker. "hey," he'd begin in the not-so-rizzing-up way and smile at you with his big, sweet smile as he looks at your back that's turned to your fidgety figure. "oh, hi miles." you say as you look at a mop erected on a clean up bucket by the janitor's closet. miles chuckles as he turns you around gently and holds you by the shoulders. "hey, quit playin', i'm over he--oh." he said in two starkly different tones as he sees your confused expression, your eyes seeming a lot smaller without those glasses that framed your cute face. you squinted to get a better look at miles, and you finally realized it was him. "oh, a cute baby deer is in front of me, i walked into a mystical forest, not school." you joked, and miles chuckled. "lost your glasses again?" he asked, to which you sighed and nodded. miles chuckled yet again, he loved you a lot, but you had a tendency to be a little scatterbrained. "oh, what would you do without me, chiquita?" he teased you as you pouted. he opened his locker, where there were photos of you two decorating the back of his locker's door, and with some of your stuff with him; notebooks, folders, pencil cases and books, and of course, your spare glasses if you ever lost your main pair. he handed them to you with a slight eyebrow raise and pout to match your expression. "for you, mi amor." he gestured so gallantly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "you practicing your spanish on me because of our test later, or because you want to impress me?" you quizzed him as you put on your glasses, him laughing a little at your bluntness. "come on, can't your boyfriend call you his one and only, linda?" he asked you sweetly as he took your hand. "you look really pretty with your glasses on, and even when they're off... i can't take my eyes off you."

gwen would have thought that a few lowlife bullies stole your glasses when she caught you in between periods at the hallway, wandering about, your hand extended in front of you slightly as you tried to weave your way through the crowd. gwen rushed over to you, knowing how bad your eyesight was, she was worried you'd bump into someone or something. she took your hand as she called your name, and you stopped. recognizing that voice, you turned your head to look at a fuzzy image of light blonde hair with light blue blobs on a face that looked distortedly concerned. "oh, hey gwinny." you said awkwardly, hoping it was gwen. "hi, where, uh, where are your glasses?" she asked you, to which you laughed nervously at that, scratching your cheek all the while, trying to come up with the right way to say it. "i... left them at home." you admitted. gwen sighed. "this is the, what, third time this month?" she asked as she held on to you tighter. you chuckled again. "ah, fourth time, actually." you corrected her as she shook her head and cracked a smile. "you can still read my handwriting, right?" "takes a while to register since you write your 'b's and 'p's so similarly, but i can manage. thanks, gwinny." you thanked her as she playfully hit your arm and smiled. "you owe me a tutoring session tonight for this."

pav would not have realized you needed glasses until he noticed how close you were to the papers that were posted on the bulletin board when he came up to you. "whatcha reading?" he'd ask you as he crept up towards you, and you'd've yelped a little in surprise, unsure who was in front of you until you saw a blurry shape of his signature hair. "now either it's spider man or it's just you, pav." you remarked sarcastically as pav grinned at you. "come on, don't kid around, you know it's me! spider man's not as dashing as i am, you know." he said. "sorry, you're just really blurry right now." you muttered as you rubbed your eyes. he tilted his head to the side. "blurry? wait... do you need glasses?" he asked, to which you perked up and looked at his direction. "...yeah." pav nodded as he leaned closer towards you. "well that explains why you keep leaning over to my side when we're in class, copying notes." he said as he brushed your hair off your face and smiled radiantly at you. "i've got you, though. i'll be by your side all day, i'll help you out as much as you need me to!" he beamed. "man, i really do wanna see you in glasses, though. bet you'd look super cute in them, and, oh, to have me pushing them up on your face when they're about to fall off..." he teased you as you blushed and pouted at him. "in your dreams, prabhakar." you spat at him as he chuckled.

hobie would have been slightly confused as you kept looking at the ground as you walked, and hastily looked up and around, waving your hands around as you tried to tread your way through the rows of people walking past you. he rushed over to you, concerned about what might've come over you. "you alright? you seem a little uncomfy." he asked you with a tone of slight worry as you looked up at the tall boy, making out a blurry image of his wicks and his dark skin as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "oh, don't tell me you got your lenses nicked off you." he said with a small smirk. you shook your head. "they weren't nicked, just... i lost them last night, and now i have to get replacements." you said with a sad sigh. hobie chuckled. "what's your eye grade?" he asked as he took your hand in his own larger ones. you blushed at the touch but cleared your throat to answer him. he nodded and smirked wider. "y'know, you could get yourself some replacements, go ahead, it's your personal liberty; but i'd... i'd like to make you some custom frames, courtesy of your beloved hobart. what do you say?" he asked as he leaned closer to you. "i'd... like that a lot." you admitted. "wonderful. now, let me make sure you don't stumble over your own cute little feet." he said as he lifted you up and carried you in a bridal style manner, out of concern you might bump into someone or something, of course.

a/n: HOBIE AND MILES KAKSKDJDJDKDFHFOFNFJDKKSNDKDLD

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @luvstarrstruck @fictarian

#atsv spiderman #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #miles morales #atsv gwen #gwen stacy #hobie brown #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv pavitr #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy x y/n #miles morales x y/n #hobie brown x you

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miss-biophys · 5 months ago

Text

Work on a scientific article

What it actuallly entails:

Come up with an idea, define an interesting problem

Do thorough literature research. Maybe similar stuff was already done. Define the knowledge gap well.

Plan in detail, how we can solve the problem, design experiments

Reach out to potential collaborators, agree with them on a plan

Buy necessary equipment, chemicals

Do pilot experiment, optimize the conditions to get reliable data

Perform experiments, calculations, make everything multiple times so it's reliable

Analyze the data

Urge collaborators to deliver their parts

Coordinate your progress with the collaborators

Manage the collaborations, organize meetings

Be diplomatic, you don't want to make enemies in academia

Agree with direct colleagues, who worked on it, what will be the message of the article. Will it be a long story and we need to add some more data? Or will it be short and right to the point and we write a short "letter"?

Do literature research again. Maybe new stuff appeared, and for sure your data must be confronted and discussed with already known facts.

Write the first draft of the article

Send it around for feedback, first only to direct colleagues from your lab

Incorporate the feedback, maybe do more experiments and more analysis

Rewrite the manuscript

Send it around the second, third, fourth, fifth... time

Incorporate the feedback

Send the manuscript to all collaborators.

Wait for the feedback, urge everyone to give it, maybe you don't have all data from all the collaborators yet

Incorporate feedback

Prepare the manuscript for journal submission

Get approval from all co-authors

Submit the manuscript

Wait for editor response, hopefully they send it to reviewers. If not, you need to rewrite a bit the article to adhere to the new journal's format and send somewhere else.

Get reviewers' reports, deal with them, reply truthfully, make effort to explain everything even if you know that the reviewer's suggestion is just impossible or irrelevant. Be diplomatic.

Maybe you need to do an additional experiment, analysis, or rewrite a major part fo the manuscript. This can take months.

Submit revised manuscript with all the changes

Wait for editor's nad reviewers' comments in the second round. You can get many rounds of review and still get rejected.

Finally get a "Congratulations, your manuscript has been accepted for publication"

Pop a shampagne! You deserve it!

What part of this do you usually do in different career stages:

BSc. and MSc. students: Perform experiments and analyze data

PhD students: Do all the experimental and analysis parts, write the manuscript, discuss with their supervisor and direct colleagues, incorporate feedback. But does not have to come up with their own idea and manage collaborations and diplomacy.

Postdocs: Do literally everything on the list

Group leader/Professor: Do the thinking and managing parts, help with writing and feedback, provide discussions and insight. Do not perform actual experiments and analysis.

Being a postdoc is the transformation between the student and the group leader.

As such, we just have to do all these tasks. It's stressful. It's challenging. It's definitely not boring. I am taking every opportunity to get a student, who can help with the experimental repetitions so I have time for all the other stuff.

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leonhardt-simp · 1 year ago

Text

The Girl Who Wrote Me Letters VI.

[post-canon/canonverse] | series masterlist

— Annie x Mute! Fem! Reader.

summary: The ungrounded mystery grows restless and tensions grow higher with every passing moment.

Author’s note: After 9 different drafts, I have this one lmao. Thank you for everyone sticking close to the story and those who have been anticipating chapter 6. Here it is! and I hope you enjoy. 🍧💕

“This one.” The Commander said pointing down at the files on his old desk, the decision creating quite a stir between Hange and Levi.

Hange looked at Levi before they approached Erwin’s desk, picking up the document to see what was beneath. They felt their breath catch in their throat, eyes widening before taking a look over to their commander.

“You— You can’t be serious…” Hange was almost speechless. After everything that’s transpired, this man was still marching on his feet.

Levi walked over, questioning the judgement… Until he saw the name on the planner documents…

“Field Medics…?” He took the paper, looking through them to see Erwin’s plans of incorporating medics beside the scouts. These plans seemed vague, but the idea was there in the form of messily drawn pictures and arrows. He wasn’t expecting this and neither was Hange.

“With all due respect, we can’t afford to pull medics out on the field… Do you really think we’ll even get our hands on even ONE?” Hange expressed, motioning with their hands while they spoke. The idea was completely ridiculous! They were practically the clean up crew. Just waiting for the dead to pile up.

Erwin knew their concerns… But, it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. He turned his back to look out the window, holding the spot where his arm used to be…. The painful reminder of time loss because of injury. Time that could’ve been spent focusing on many other things… Those days, hours and seconds.

“No…But, I know one person that they’ll likely let go.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at Levi, who slowly went through the next page.

It was a list of names. Names of many of the more proud names within the Medical Regiment. So many good choices, but one was circled amongst these names.

ELINOR VIVIANNE. ← SECONDARY PICK.

LUTHER WAGNER. ← THIRD PICK.

Y/N L/N. ← PRIORITY PICK.

DENIS PENCE. ← KEEP AN EYE ON THIS ONE.

JOHNATHAN ADLER. ← FOURTH PICK.

Hange’s expression grew confused, “But, this one–”

“I know. However, I want this one as a mere test run.” Erwin clarified, showing that nothing was concrete yet. This was just the foundation.

Levi couldn’t seem to get behind it. The factors of this made for a dangerous situation, especially with the rumors. “…I don’t think this is a good idea.” He expressed, his eyes looking up from the papers.

Erwin found himself playing with a fountain pen he had on his desk. “We had them for the expedition. This will be no different.” He reassured, giving a head nod. He seemed to be convincing himself as he spoke along.

“We also lost Levi’s entire squad and then some. Do I need to remind you that this medic in particular is also suspected of being in contact with the titan girl that tried to run away and destroyed half of Stohess?” Hange’s voice slightly raised, a hand extended towards the door as if pointing at Stohess itself. The risks were way too high, but that never stopped Erwin.

Erwin stood up a little straighter, “Then it’s the perfect excuse to use to keep that one close… Isn’t it?” He looked between his two most trusted allies. His hand reached to the paper, pointing down to the name. Hange didn’t know what to say… and Levi? He just followed along. The idea of a on field medic fulltime was an idealistic idea… One that made any one more comfortable… That security.

But, he was not prepared of the other regiment names that would soon come in to deny the idea. They took to a vote; Pixis denied the possibility of wasting medics and soon after, Nile had also denied. His denial was more out of lack of interest than genuine concern…

Not even Zachary approved of the new idea, stating that it would be “Unwise to take away from the sub-regiment when it already lacked.”

In defeat, Erwin would place those plans in a drawer his desk. Letting that ideas seem to sink away with many of the others he had. He had to keep moving forward though, no time to waste. That was until death stopped him like a brick wall. So close, yet so far from the truth…

Y/N followed behind Levi, her eyes scanning around to hallways of the commander’s building. The wood creaked beneath their weight, making the building feel so… Hollow. That was expected though, wasn’t it? An important life was lost… One that used to fill this building.

“Y/N L/N…?” Hange questioned, seeing the young girl enter the room.

Y/N saw papers scattered around the old commander’s desk, a lot of red seemed to point to various things and occasionally the big letters. Her nervousness seemed to only grow from that. I mean, it’s not everyday you get pulled from your job.

With a cautious nod, Y/N stood across the desk, keeping her weight shifted off of her still recovering leg. The pain was dull, but she knew she couldn’t overwork it.

Levi reached over for a particular paper, sliding it in front of the nurse. She leaned down, looking over the paper with a watchful eye. The words were confusing, but when she noticed her name in bold letters… She shockingly backed up and looked at Hange and Levi with a look that asked them what they were planning.

“…A test run. And not one you can refuse either.” Hange explained, picking up another paper to slide over to the new field medic.

Y/N took a sneaking glance back, seeing Levi standing by the door. His eyes bore into her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

There was that feeling again. That helplessness… Her eyes shifted back up to Hange who seemed to have the same look on their face. She really didn’t have much of a choice here… So, she just nodded. Hange nodded, looking over at Levi to see if he was satisfied. He just nodded his head, being the first to leave.

The weight was on her shoulders now after seeing this idea that was left behind by the old commander…

She couldn’t help but look down at her leg, shifting a bit to see if weight could be applied, but when she felt the buckle of her knee, she shook her head.

‘…I can do this…’ She thought to herself. It’s not like she had a choice here. It was either this or end up in a some fucked up situation… She had enough on her plate already. E/C eyes skimmed through the basics, finally landing on the name of the idea.

“Operation Support.” Her eyes seemed to read over and over again…

——

There was that helplessness again… That weak feeling that bubbled beneath her gut and overwhelmed her straight to the core. She even felt that pain in her leg again… Like every feeling and memory came flooding through from the back of her head…

Her eyes widened upon hearing that familiar voice call out her name… But, she didn’t see Annie… Just the monster that had ruined her…. That beast that haunted her night in her dreams from time to time. Some nights, it would stare down at her. Other nights it tried to grab her, pick her up in its muscly hand.

“Y/N…” Annie called out, her tone hushed and desperate. Hands stayed up in surrender, taking a cautious step forward but immediately stopped when Y/N’s hand adjusted around the grip of the gun. E/C eyes looked through those apathetic blue eyes, The ones that softened at the idea of this being it.

This was her chance… To settle their score. To make up for everything. This was her chance. This was her chance.

Her hand firmly grasped the gun, pointing it up higher towards Annie’s head. Her heart pounded in her ears accompanied with ringing and buzzing… Her breathing became shallow and uneven… Then she felt it.

Her vision grew blurry, her hand reaching up to touch the wetness that started to form there. She was starting to cry… Her throat had that familiar lump in it, making it hard to keep composure.

‘No… Stop…’ Her heart started to yell, but she tried to push the feelings down. Her hand wiped them away, not wanting to show this…This weakness. She wasn’t that pathetic girl writing in a book anymore. Those days were gone.

Annie felt her heart break at the sight. Her hand reaching out, but that made Y/N point her gun more firmly at the ambassador. This made her hands shoot back up to keep them visible. Annie knew that she had to work for Y/N’s trust again. It wouldn’t come easy. Not after what she did.

Annie closed her eyes tightly and braced for whatever was to come. She deserved it, didn’t she? She was the cause of all the troubles in Y/N’s life… The reason she ran away… Hell, she was waiting for her luck to burn out. And now? It seemed to be it.

This was her chance to get back for all the hurt and suffering. her breathing became uneven and her heart pounded in her ears. The white noise. It felt like she was drowning. Y/N couldn’t deny she was panicking…

But then Dakota’s voice pulled Y/N out, the writhing body on the floor let the tunnel vision clear up a bit. Her eyes looked down to the body on the ground.

“We’re… We’re here to help…” Dakota strained, holding her head in her hands from the throbbing pain that lingered. Kota couldn’t let Y/N kill Annie, not when they needed her for this whole thing… The main problem. “She’s…She’s with me… Marley’s Ambassador…” Kota stressed, seeing double when they tried to push themselves up. Hell, it felt like a brick just slammed into their head. What the hell were they feeding these doctors??

Her grip around the gun shook further, her heart telling her to stop while her brain told her it was for the best. Reluctantly, she forced her hand down and took in the sight of the newly made ambassador.

“Y/N—” Annie spoke with a calming reach out, but then they heard the sound of more people coming into the building and speaking.

BAM!

The noise made both Annie and Kota look over towards the door. Dakota was quick on the draw of her own firearm, eyebrows furrowing down.

Whoever wanted Y/N dead was very adamant on it. Especially, since it didn’t sound like just one persom this time. That alone pissed Y/N off.

The doctor had to fight with herself to keep from giving that ambassador a feel of her pent of frustration and anger… But, now wasn’t the time. All she did was give Annie a glare while she helped the bandit up from the floor, Kota taking it without much of a second thought and standing to her feet with a bit of wobble.

The glare was met with Annie’s softened expression, taking a moment to watch as the woman she once had so close to her, farther than ever before. The limp-walk past her made the weight of her actions heavier than ever. The sound of leather and metals kept Y/N’s right leg stable, helping her move properly with some minimal strain.

“She might develop a little limp… If you can convince her to stay in bed for her full recovery then maybe she might recover better... She’s always so eager to help out.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, as the memory of a bedridden Y/N laid in the infirmary bed. The way her face glistened in sweat and her head threw back in pain…. She couldn’t convince her… Not when she was trapped in that crystal…

She didn’t even notice the other two already rushing the window, Kota pulling up the window and checking below into the alleyway for any signs of a threat. It was empty. Nothing but a few stacked up crates and barrels below.

“Good enough.” The gang leader debated, shaking her head at the thought of Y/N potential falling a few feet down. Hell, they were sure she would land well… She guessed.

Annie’s mind was still dazed out. It felt like they stood on completely opposite sides of a canyon. The bridge being deliberately burned away, Y/N holding the matches that burnt the ropes thinner and thinner.

“Annie! Help her down.” Kota called, holding open the window. That snapped Annie back into the moment, her eyebrows furrowing down. She can pity herself later… Hopefully.

Without any time to waste, Annie rushed over to Y/N’s side. “Pardon my hands…” Annie softly spoke, keeping her hand on Y/N’s waist while she focused on ensuring she didn’t fall or trip. Y/N wasn’t used to the closeness, but she knew she couldn’t be annoyed about it.

“We know you’re here, Doc Let’s not make this harder than it has to be, hm?” One of the intruders spoke, a few laughing along. The sound of wood creaking beneath every step that drew closer and closer to the office.

The rugged man looked back at his men, placing a finger to his lips. He gave three fingers, signaling that on the count of three they would rush the office and take whoever was in it.

Slowly, the fingers counted down, the tensions growing higher before finally they rushed inside. Guns pointed up, sweeping before noticing that the room was empty. Nothing but a few disarrayed item and one of their own on the floor.

“Sir?” One of the goons spoke, rushing to the side of the corpse on the floor. Another goon joined beside the other, placing a hand to the fallen member’s pulse, shaking their head when all they felt was a cold vessel.

The man grimaced, putting his gun back in his belt. “I want this entire building checked. Nothing remains unturned or touched. You hear!?” He commanded, unaware of the shadows outside the windows that were already pushing through the alleyways to blend in.

“Whoever you pissed off, did not let it go.” Dakota muttered as they pushed through a wooden gate, leading them out into some cobbled street that had a few drunks walking up and down it.

Y/N just rolled eyes, taking a moment to ditch her uniform coat in a nearby bucket that seemed to be filled with a questionable liquid. Her face grimaced in disgust, turning back to catch up. She won’t be seeing that particular coat again. Unfortunate…

Annie stayed behind, keeping a look out to ensure no one followed them. “That didn’t seem like a matter of anger… More like a…” She seemed to trail off, turning her attention back to see Y/N looking back at her with a frustrated expression. “…Like a job.” She silently spoke, watching the doctor turn her head back forward.

The tension between the two even made Dakota uncomfortable. That was between them though, this bandit knew better than to try and step into a fight between a couple. Were they a couple…? Was that how it worked? She wasn’t sure.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Dakota rubbed the side of their head. They could still feel that sting, more dull but it was still there. “Doesn’t make sense for them to target a random doctor, though.” They added, taking a stop by some old building pub.

Dakota leaned against the brick, enjoying a moment of rest. Annie needed it too as she felt her wound from a few hours ago to feel achy and fatigue was surely pushing her.

She took a look upwards, only seeing the dark sight of the ground that lingered above… The underground didn’t have a sky… What time was it? Even she wasn’t sure… But, it felt like the days seemed to prolong. If she had to trust her gut, then she was sure that Pieck and Reiner were likely resting.

With that thought in mind, she took a moment to take a seat down on a bench placed against the brick like building, her hand rubbing at her shoulder. She even took a sneaking glance over at her old lover, watching as the young woman took slight offense to the comment. Y/N’s stance seemed to straighten up, her expression one that Annie knew all too well.

That look when she wanted to prove herself. She had it back in Trost… She had it here too.

‘I’m not a random doctor.’ Y/N signed, the look of surprise hitting the bandit and the ambassador. The blonde looked at Y/N with her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, not expecting the change of communication. Though, that would make the most sense why she didn’t carry an old book around and a pen, wouldn’t it?…

Dakota knew there was something about how Y/N stood, her demeanor… It wasn’t like the other doctors she had been speaking to. Not Vivianne. Not even Adler..

Pushing themselves off the wall, Dakota approached Y/N, stopping just in front of her and looking down at her with an overbearing demeanor. “…Then who are you?” Dakota finally asked. There it was, the golden question. Everyone knew her as Y/N L/N above ground… But, who was this persona? This mask? Dakota was careful in approaching the mute doctors. One couldn’t be too hasty to learn the truth.

The bandit seemed to want the same answers as Annie, but even then the ambassador seemed to want to respect the boundaries her old lover clearly had. She still kept a close eye.

The doctor stood there, clenching her jaw a bit from the sudden interrogation. It even had her thinking to herself, wondering who exactly she was… But, she knew… She was a lot of things… Became a lot from nothing too.

So, seeing a smug bandit try to slightly intimidate her into spilling her life out on a map irked her a bit. It showed on her face too. Her tongue licking the inside of her cheek, she looked away briefly before she looking back up at the tall woman with more than just a little amusement. A woman who knew her position, she was. Perhaps, she picked up a few things from Dr. Vivianne.

‘The same person who slipped you a crate. Same person you want to stay on good terms with.’ She signed, her eyes challenging.

The action made Annie raise her brows, looking over to Dakota. The crate.. Then those names flashed into her mind for a few seconds. Denis and Luther…. They were all connected. The bandit seemed to suddenly have a moment of realization as well, her face contorted with a bit of confusion from that end statement though.

“…Is that a threat?” Fabel flabbergasted at the mere thought of some medic threatening to fuck off in the middle of something so important. They took a threatening step forward, feeling almost offended.

Hands started to make the argument more clear, her body turning to the two. ‘Take it how you wish. Just know you need me since I’m the only one willing to break the rules to help you.’ She reaches into her vest pocket, pulling out a letter. Her eyes stared at it before flicking her wrist to toss the letter over.

Annie watched as the letter descended gracefully down to the ground, her curiosity getting the better of her. “…What?” Annie questioned, standing up from the bench and walking over to pick up the paper from the ground. Her eyes looked up to meet her old lover’s E/C gaze, her hands gently unfolding the letter.

‘With much consideration, Main Medical has decided to postpone the distribution and cooperation with other outside parties. All medics and medical researchers are advised to stay in their offices or main buildings until further notice.

— Signed, Elinor Vivianne. Head of MM.’

Y/N shook her head, her eyes averting away at the mere thought of even getting her position revoked. ‘Everyone is completely at a standstill… Dr. Vivianne is more concerned with how much we’ve been losing because of these crates being either stolen or damaged. Every doctor, besides a few, are completely in agreement with Dr. Vivianne. They want out. This attack on my building will only solidify their stance on the matter.’ Her gestures seemed to be punctuated, her mouth moving along to mouth certain words and phrases. The doctor even started to pace a bit, needing to get some pent up feels at bay. She wasn’t happy about the decision either.

Dakota couldn’t believe that bullshit. Face contorted into frustration, feeling a bit betrayed. Hazel eyes took a look over the letter again, shaking her head in slight denial.

What ever happened to being the ones to show up for people? The heros that kept morale up? What the hell were doctors if they weren’t doing their job?

“Vivianne… That son of a bitch.” Dakota cursed under their breath, hands clenched at her side while she looked away.

Annie wasn’t sure what to make of this… “…She’s right about one thing,” Annie spoke, folding the notice back up before holding it out back at Y/N. “Those men don’t seem to be very fazed with the idea of taking lives. That crate you sent us was attacked… I… Uh.. We barely made it out. It was as if they already knew.” She watched as Y/N hesitated to reach out and take the letter back from her.

Fabel nodded, pacing a bit with a hand to their mouth as they tried to make sense of all this. “Annie here got shot… Those men aren’t afraid of any kind of consequence. Seems like everywhere we go, they’re always one step ahead.” The gang leader found themselves running a frustrated hand through their hair, stopping to look back over at the Medic.

Y/N felt her throat close up at the idea of Annie getting shot, her eyes shifting back up to meet with Annie’s gaze. Annie wasn’t sure what she saw in those familiar E/C colored eyes. It was softer than anything she’s seen all day though...

“I’ll be fine… Just a scratch…” She tried to play it off, getting a more concerned and less angry look from the other girl.

Y/N didn’t find it funny. If anything, that would make everything so much more complicated. Hell, she didn’t even know where to start… She carefully took her letter back from Annie’s fingers, pushing the paper into her vest pocket once more with a heavy exhale.

‘If they’re not afraid of consequences, then that means they’re either safe in what those consequences are… or, these people are more ruthless than I thought…’ Y/N explains with punctuated gestures. Hazel and blue eyes watched carefully as the doctor seemed a bit… Hesitant.

Dakota crossed their arms over their chest, “You have any idea what gang this is?” The gang leader asked.

Y/N shook her head, ‘Only lead I have so far is that they’re uniformed in black and red.’ Her head turned back in the direction of her medical building. She felt a little run from her own home… That was the building she used whenever she wanted to have control. She knew it would probably be burned to the ground when she came back.

“I don’t think standing around is be the best idea. More of them could be patrolling around.” Annie spoke up, standing up from the bench with a bit of a tired exhale. She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders back as if it would relieve her.

Dakota nodded, “You’re right. Hopefully, this all starts to make sense when we’re actually in the safety of a room and not the street.” The bandit sighed, reaching for her gun and handing it over to Annie. “Try not to get this one shot out of your hand, yeah?” The gang leader teased, watching Annie flush a bit with embarrassment as she accepted it.

‘Let’s take a carriage or a wagon… I need a place to lay low… I can’t just go back to the MM if my trail is still hot.” The mute doctor gestured, fixing her leg brace a bit. The damn thing always needed to be adjusted, working and walking so much always didn’t help.

Annie waited while Dakota whistled up for a wagon, watching some old man ride up to side of the street.

“Do you need help?” Annie finally asked, getting waved off by the mute doctor. There was no direct rejection, just a wave of the hand while she approached the wagon.

“Take us Northwest. I’ll stop you when we get there.” Dakota asked as she jumped into the back, holding her hand out for Y/N to grab. Y/N took it without much of a complaint, allowing herself to be helped into their ride.

The coachman nodded, “Will do.”

Dakota got seated besides some sacks of imported goods, knee bent with an arm on it. “We’ll stop by my Uncle’s… I’m sure he’ll be glad to take up some company…” She explained, running a hand through her hair.

Y/N nodded, finding a comfortable spot near a barrel of what she believed was probably wine. At least she hoped so, a drink right about now sounded nice.

“Northwest is near the entrance to the city, isn’t it?” Annie asked, holding onto the strap of her satchel before finally getting settled up into the back of the wagon with the others. So much has changed since then… But, she couldn’t complain. She didn’t really have the right to.

‘And Main Medical. It’s some ways from it… Smack in the middle of this city… We actually cleared out one of the old brothel buildings for it… A big one. When we’re rested and ready, we can head there… Get us all on the same page with Dr. Vivianne and Dr. Adler.’ Y/N signed, her head leaned against the barrel beside her.

Dakota motioned with their hand, agreeing along with what the doctor said. “A meeting was long overdue…. She’s always avoided speaking with me directly. Dr. Adler and I are practically best buddies with how often I’ve seen him.” There was a spoken sarcasm that made Y/N shake her head, understanding what Dakota meant perfectly. Vivianne was practically a book of tasks. Always sending others to do the things she didn’t want to… Perfect example was this… Though it was deliberate, Y/N didn’t mind getting her hands dirty if it meant doing the right thing. Vivianne’s word wouldn’t stop her.

Annie hummed, taking a sneaking glance over to Y/N, who seemed to want to rest a bit on the ride to Dakota’s Uncle’s house. She didn’t want to stare, but it was strange…Seeing her again after such a long time… She looked good. Annie still liked how she styled her hair… How her E/C closed to just… Rest and breathe for a moment. Of course, she was pulled out of her moment when she saw Dakota smirking at her. That knowing glance the bandit made her way ruined it.

It made her embarrassed, making her turn her head away with her cheeks growing red flush..

With a snap of the reigns, they were on their way. Thankfully the cover of the wagon would provide them some relief from anyone who could see them pass by.

——

Adler bursted through the door, panting and pointing behind him. He was so out of breath from running everywhere, still empty handed though.

Dr. Vivianne placed her clipboard down and just waited for the theatric display to end, leaning a hand against her desk while the other rested on her hip.

“Eastern Building…. It… Phew…” He started his sentence, leant forward with his hands on his knees. He couldn’t even hold enough air in to make a cohesive sentence.

Of course, this just annoyed Vivianne. “Spit it out.” She urged, tone stern and punctual with it.

“Eastern building got raided.” Adler finally spit it out, holding a hand to his chest. The news made Vivianne’s eyes widen a bit, her expression growing a little confused.

“Raided? What do you mean "raided?” The ash haired doctor questioned, her head tilted forward as if demanding some kind of explanation.

The blonde doctor just shook his head, standing up a bit straighter. “I was doing what you said… Trying to find Y/N… So, I went to her building…But then, I noticed a whole bunch of men rush the building… I booked it out of there….” Adler explained, pacing a bit while he spoke. His conscience felt guilty. He ran off like a coward and probably let these… Rats kill one of their own.

Vivianne seemed lost for words. Her eyes looked away as she processed the news, feeling a sinking feeling in her gut at the thought of one of the original three being gone to something so…. so preventable. Her brain wanted to think logically about this, but her heart didn’t seem to agree.

“…Do you know for sure that Dr. Quil was in that building?” Vivianne questioned in a monotone voice, her head tilting slightly.

Adler couldn’t say for sure. “…I… I would like to hope not… But, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re starting to hurt the supply at the source.” He said his thoughts, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stood. His eyes grew worrisome. The idea of anyone becoming a target… He avoided the war for that reason… He didn’t want to be a target.

Vivianne felt bitter, her eyes closing for a moment. “…Start telling the staff to start closing everything up.” She says, standing up straighter. “Tell them that it’s urgent as well. I don’t want a single doctor left behind.” Her hand pulled a document from her desk, pushing it into one of the drawers with a slight of hand.

Adler looked at Vivianne with a confused expression, his eyebrows knitting together. “…What about the crates?… Surely, we can’t just… Leave them?” He asked, curious if they were going to just leave them there.

Vivianne nodded, “Don’t worry about that. Until we get definite confirmation that Dr. Quil is dead. We will proceed with clean-up here. Priority documents come first. Crates can collect dust for all I care. They’re not worth the sacrifice of the other good doctors here.” Her way of explaining the situation made Adler feel a little more at ease. He nodded his head in agreement. The earlier they got out, the better.

“Now leave me be… I need… Uh…” Vivianne looked around a bit lost, her eyes looking down at her desk. “I need to be alone for a little while…” She took a seat in her chair, her elbows resting on the surface of her cluttered desk and her hands clasping together as if in prayer. Her heart felt heavy. It felt like everything was going downhill from here.

Dr. Adler nodded his head, immediately leaving to go start the prep up for evac. There was a lot of equipment to be packed away. Transportation was also going to be a little tight, but as long as people were able to leave then it didn’t matter.

Vivianne stared at the door of her office, her eyes closing tightly as flashbacks to when she first met Y/N had suddenly triggered.

——

“Luther, Denis, Vivianne, and Adler. You’re being requested over to The Scouts Main Quarters. Please go ASAP.” The head medic spoke, flipping through a wooden clipboard as he stood at the doorway.

Vivianne pulled her mask down and looked over, her expression growing confused. “Wh-What do they need us for…?” She questioned, taking off her blood soaked gloves.

The man looked up at Vivianne, shaking his head in disapproval. “Does it matter? If I say to go, you go.” He spoke firmly, making the girl slightly purse her lips together as if to hold back on being disrespectful.

She only nodded, looking back down at the soldier that was missing an arm from an expedition… Survived, but now retired… It was unfortunate. “Rest easy…” She softly spoke, patting his shoulder before she turned and left the room.

In the hallway, Luther and Denis seemed to be messing around a bit, pushing and shoving each other. Adler stood with his hand adjusting his glasses, keeping a cocky explanation on his face as they waited for Vivianne.

“You coming, slowpoke? We’re waiting on you.” Denis said, wrapping an arm around Luther’s shoulder.

Adler scoffed, “At least try to act professional, Denis…” The blonde man spoke, his expression showing his disdain for how casual the two were being.

Luther rolled his eyes, “You act like we’re seeing the Queen. Get your breeches untangled and let loose, will ya? I swear, all I ever hear you do is complain.” The taller man spoke, Denis laughing a bit from his friend’s observation.

Adler just gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He adjusted his glasses once more, “You ready?” Adler asked Vivianne, wanting this done and over with as soon as possible.

Vivianne gave a quick nod, catching up with the three.

She remembered the debriefings they were subjected to with Commander Hange. The eccentric way the commander handled themselves made Luther and Denis more excited for this sudden call.

But, Vivianne was very… suspicious. Becoming a field medic sounded crazy… All this confidentiality also rubbed her wrong. What the hell were they hiding?

“Given the circumstances, I will give you the opportunity to back out… However, you 4 were hand picked because of your overall evaluations back when you were in training as well as your medical expertise. This is for progress… A trial we conducted a few time before. It will be the first on field medical team.” Hange explained with a more serious tone, pushing a paper towards the four medics.

Luther was the first to raise his hand, “Is it just us…? Or will there be more?” He asked, making Vivianne give him a side-eye.

Hange paced a bit, nodding their head. “I will only say that you have a captain.” They stopped, motioning towards the door. “Unlike you all, she didn’t necessarily have a choice in the matter whether she joined or not.”

Adler shook his head, standing up. “I rather value my life. I would find it a waste to leave it in the hands of some… Scout. Thank you for the offer though. Hopefully, you can find some other fool to take my place.” His reluctance made Vivianne want to leave as well, finding the idea of fighting alongside The Scouts to be so foolish. A death sentence handed down on a gruesome platter, that’s basically what it was.

As Adler left, Vivianne debated with herself. She too could live a comfortable life.. A life with no worries besides the worries that came in through doors in the arms of fellow comrades…

“Damn… I really thought I sold the idea. Anyone else?” Hange sighed, pushing up their goggles to rub their eyes. Handa landed on their hips, looking amongst the younger men and at Vivianne.

The room stayed quiet, Luther soon reaching to the table to grab the paper of the plans. Vivianne watched him debate it, soon just nodding. “Fuck it… I’m in.” He stood up, tossing the paper back onto the table. Vivianne just watched as Denis followed through too.

“Me too. I’ll join too!” Denis said with a confident fist to his chest. His lips held a self-assured smile too, pushing Luther with his arm, who then pushed him back.

‘What the…’ She thought they were crazy. Why the hell would they want to go beyond the walls? The safety was all here. They had the easy part of just sitting and waiting, cleaning and tending…. But, she hadn’t denied the offer yet… So, was she crazy too? Was it some weird curiosity?

Her eyes then met up with the commander’s, “What about you?” Hange asked, holding out a hand to her. Vivianne wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she grabbed that hand, sealing the deal of her participation.

She remembered how the team was escorted throughout the barrack building. Faces that were familiar passed by, making Vivianne stare more with interest. She didn’t expect them to be so close to such big names… Hell, she even thinks she saw Mikasa there.

“Holy hell, that’s literally Levi.” Denis grabbed Luther’s arm, shaking him slightly. As they approached the closed door that Levi seemed to guard, his back leaned against the wall.

“Is this them?” Levi asked, Hange nodding their head. “One didn’t take the offer, but we’ll still have 4.” Hange answered, adjusting their uniform coat. “Baby steps as they say.” Adding to the conversation, they looked back at the squad behind.

Vivianne saw how Hange placed a stack of papers in Levi’s hand. “Perfect.” He said, looking through them briefly before he finally opened the door.

Vivianne looked around, taking in the sight of the lab that seemed to have been built there. A lot of beakers… A lot of scrap metal too… It felt like they just walked into a madman’s science experiment.

But, it was a lot crazier than that.

The figure at the desk lifted their head up and turned to look over their shoulder, soon meeting eyes with her. And suddenly, she felt breathless.

Hange ensured the door was closed behind them, taking the initiative to walk over to the desk.

“Your captain for this operation is Y/N L/N.” Levi spoke, his hands at his sides. He kept it short and blunt, there wasn’t a need for everyone to be getting comfortable. Not yet, anyways.

Vivianne watched how the quiet persona in the room pushed back a pair of goggles from her face before turning to look at the group before her. Judgemental eyes stared, nodding as if she was satisfied.

“You’re the—” Vivianne spoke up, recognizing that face from the bulletin board. The mute doctor placed a finger to her lips and just hushed.

Y/N stood up, the sound of a heavy boot came with every step. Vivianne wasn’t sure what she felt… Was it envy? There was something in how Y/N carried herself despite being the one with the greatest disadvantage in the room.

She wanted to capture it. She wanted it to herself.

——

Annie stayed seated on a small bed that Uncle Miles provided, a hand covering her chest while Y/N took a look at the wound on her shoulder. She felt a few stings whenever the mute doctor touched the surely scarred skin.

‘Whoever did this was surely an amateur.’ Y/N gestured, looking over at the bandit that was enjoying a little meal that her uncle had provided. It felt good to be back at home eating all this good food.

“…Sorry, not everyone has experience.” Dakota said, licking their thumb from the sauce that the stew had. Nothing like a good meal to end the day. They stood by the window, looking out at the street. It was always entertaining to see people interact while they ate.

Y/N was thankful she had the proper supplies to start cleaning the wound. So, she started with that first. Having to remove stitches was a bit of a pain, but she knew it was better than letting Annie walk around with busted up looking stitches.

Annie had trouble keeping her eyes averted, always finding herself unconsciously getting distracted by how Y/N would occasionally bite her lip or how her face concentrated on cleaning the inflamed area with a washcloth. The touch enough to make Annie slightly wince and squint her eyes away.

“I just wished it didn’t hurt so bad.” Annie softly muttered, staying still while Y/N worked.

From a professional standpoint, Y/N was a bit concerned about a potential problem. The wound was definitely not correctly treated, and the old sutures were practically loose and tied too big. But, personally, she couldn’t say that Annie didn’t deserve it. A little mean, but she was allowed to be angry.

“So when are we addressing the problem with Vivianne?” Dakota asked, tossing her plate down on her desk with the others once she was finished with her meal. Her hands wiped themselves on her pants, walking over to stand over the doctor and ambassador.

Y/N finished up the cleaning, putting her washcloth down in a bucket beside them. Her attention moved over to Dakota, not sure what they were expecting.

‘Whenever I can get back. I should be able to talk to her about this… She cannot know about the attack on my building though. If she does, I’ll be stuck in the offices and I won’t be able to help you.’ Y/N explained, standing up from the bed and using a small cloth to wipe her hands. ‘She won’t be easy to persuade, but she’s never been easy.’ Y/N signed once more, sighing at the fact she needed to go head to head with her of all people. Adler, she didn’t care much for. She could debate with him whenever and wherever… Vivianne was more hardheaded. A woman bound by a weird sense of leadership. She held every nurse with an iron grip. Not her though. She could never hold her down.

Dakota hummed, “Tell me about it.” her eyes looking back over at Annie who seemed to be checking out her new sutures. However, her eyes were focused a bit more on Y/N.

Annie was stuck in a little world of her own at the moment, trying to process everything that’s happened. Everything that will happen. “Who is Dr. Vivianne?” Annie questioned, her head tilting a bit. She hadn’t heard of the name. Nor did she read about it… This was someone completely new.

Y/N could’ve answered that question in a multitude of ways, but she didn’t. She just stood there and shook her head, ‘Head of the Medical Division. She took after Henry Belis when he died after the war.’ She gestured, not very fond of the history. Especially, not when her and Vivianne had so much of it.

“…So she’s your mentor?” Annie stood up from the bed, adjusting her clothes to cover up with just the fix of some buttons on her shirt.

Y/N shook her head once more, almost finding that idea a bit funny. ‘No. If anything she’s just a person in the big chair.’ Her hand gestures showed a little more of the sadder truth of this story.

A constant shift in power always made its way between Adler, Vivianne and Y/N. Either it was a battle of different approaches to certain things, or just Vivianne putting her foot down…. Y/N always had no choice but to listen.

Dakota took a step forward, a hand gesturing towards Annie. “What she means is, she’s a hothead with too much power. Haven’t thought of one instance where she’s not sending Adler to me. A control freak. Always up my ass about quite literally everything that happens as if I don’t have it all under a watchful eye.” The bandit scoffed.

Y/N knew that Dakota and Vivianne were also on opposite sides of the fence. It wasn’t anything new though.

“…She doesn’t sound… nice.” Annie commented in a weird blunt way that made Y/N give a small exhale of amusement. The blonde’s interest suddenly hyperfixed on that little action, her mind blanking a bit.

Y/N then shook her head, ‘She’s the product of someone who lets expectations cloud judgment… Someone who let their promotion go straight to her head.’ She signed with her eyes averted, crossed her arms after while making her way over to the window. Her mind always drifted back to the past… How, she constantly felt the weight on her shoulders as she did back then. Why was it always her making tough decisions? She never had a moment to just… Be.

“Y/N, I want you to lead the Medical Research Council.”

That offer was the downfall of the bonds they used to hold. When it became more about competition than about actually helping. Who was better and who could fill the shoes that were left. Y/N remember denying the position… Wanting to live a quieter life. The occasional job here and there… But, now here she was. Fighting against her own moral compass and risking her job because she’s never been one to leave others behind. Not now, not ever. She was thankful that Luther and Denis shared that principle.

She was tired.

Dakota could see that look in Y/N’s face. How her eyebrows furrowed down, a look of lost confidence. “…You two have history then?” She finally asked, making Y/N’s head turn away.

Annie stayed quiet, just wanting to know anything that Y/N would give her… Anything that book never told. Those continued chapters. She just… She needed to know.

And Y/N told them.

‘We worked together for a while. I was under the watchful eye of Commander Hange, placed to be a field medic and soon captain for a squad … She was… my partner. Someone I could trust at the time… A voice almost.’ Her gestures were careful, her face showing a mixture of emotions. But, she didn’t miss those moments. ‘At least, that’s what I thought at the time… But, when you’re running for someone else, you forget to walk. She forgot to walk and instead took the opportunity to fly… Hasn’t come down since.’ Her way of telling the story made Annie feel like she got a good punch to the gut. Like she was too late.

Dakota was surprised, head almost jolting back a bit from the information shared. That made a whole lot more sense now…. Why couldn't they find anything based on the missing parts of this “case.”

“You were been quietly stationed…? Why the hell would they do that?” Dakota was so fucking confused. In what universe, does making someone go missing create a benefit?

Annie was struggling to understand as well, her expression contorting with its own confusion. “That doesn’t make sense…” Annie started her thought, pointing towards Y/N, who in turn turned to look directly at the ambassador.

“I was working with the scouts during the rumbling… They said they never saw you...” Annie could remember it easily. Jean didn’t know. Connie didn’t know. Mikasa was the one who told her that Y/N’s been… Armin even said the same thing….

Y/N took a step forward, ‘What did you expect the friends of a former enemy to do?… I was working and had you come after me, you would’ve been killed.’ She knew her words were coming off a bit hostile, maybe even a bit bitter… But, she was… She was allowed to be. That was the truth. She had bigger responsibilities than

Dakota stayed quiet though, taking a place against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. She wanted to see how this entire thing unfolded, but kept a watchful eye on if it got… Too heated between the two.

Annie shook her head, “You weren’t my…” She then stopped herself, because at the time… They were enemies. They fought on different sides of the walls. Y/N stood a little taller, her eyes looking into Annie. The same way they used to when she couldn’t promise anything. It made Annie speechless.

There was a pregnant pause before Y/N tilted her head, hands signing her thoughts. ‘I liked to keep my whereabouts private… That was until recently… With the war over and a lot of the members no longer here… Now, I am just a doctor and rep for medical research.’ The mute doctor’s footsteps grew closer to Annie, the two eventually standing face to face. As much as it pained her to mention the death of her mentor and practically her guardian Hange, it was true. After the war on Marley… Y/N’s squad was disbanded to focus full time on other things.

Annie’s eyes softened up, her eyes unconsciously moving downwards towards the lips of the other woman. “And what was so important?… I could think of many instances where people needed a medic and you just weren’t there.” Annie questioned with a more sharpness in her tone. Her eyes looked back up into Y/N’s eyed again, their gazes strong enough to probably light a flame.

‘Who do you think delivered the queen’s heir?’ Y/N’s response made Dakota have a little outburst, her head shaking in disbelief. She pushed herself off from the wall and approached the doctor with an accusatory tone. “Bullshit! Everyone knows that Dr—” Her voice stopped immediately, eyes showing a shocking realization. That’s when Dakota’s hand soon pointed directly at the mute doctor, the doctor holding a prideful smile.

Annie’s eyes shifted to Dakota, trying to understand what revelation they had just came upon… Then she heard it. A name she’s heard of before.

“Dr. Quil…” Dakota’s realization rang in her voice, expression showing the new information boggled her mind. The documents were shredded because Y/N didn’t exist in the corp…. Y/N and Dr. Quil didn’t exist at the same time. They couldn’t.

“Dr. Quil helped me out with my bent out leg. I’d recommend seeing her if you need a check-up.”

The memory made Annie’s body feel suddenly cold. Her eyes finding themselves downcast and her hands at her sides in the shape of fists. Hiding in plain sight… Then she remembered what Dakota said to her when she was tied up in that chair.

“Name has been dead for a long time….” Annie spoke under her breath, trying to take in everything… But, It was too… Too much.

‘Marley was lovely, by the way. I find it crazy I made it there before you did.’ Y/N was just fucking with Annie now, the tension starting to grow the more that Y/N revealed. Annie immediately grabbed Y/N by her shirt collar, staring at her old lover with a more cold gaze. Was she mocking her?

The threatening look didn’t make Y/N flinch, she wasn’t the same person she was before… Annie had to accept that… There was no journal writing, no walks through the snow, no late night visits that ended up in a tangle of limbs… They were strangers. A clean slate. They didn’t recognize each other. That’s what years did to something that wasn’t fully established.

“Amby…” Dakota placed a hand on Annie’s chest, keeping her voice steady to calm Annie’s overwhelming emotions. But, It was all just too much to take in. Her fists clenched harder, her eyes wide and she was spiraling a bit.

But, it wasn’t. They were just battle-hardened creatures now… Both had their secrets. ‘Be mad that I lied, Sure. But, you can’t be mad at me for doing the same shit you did to me.’ Y/N was right. She wasn’t any better… They were the same coin, different sides. Annie couldn’t be mad that Y/N took a more respectable route of things.

“Annie.” Dakota’s voice raised, stern and hushed as to not disturb her uncle who was probably in his own sorrows with his mourning.

“You act like I didn’t care.” Annie’s voice wavered in their justifications. “I didn’t fucking leave you because I wanted to!”

‘You left because you knew you couldn’t stand to tell me the truth. You couldn’t even be honest with me when I got hurt because of you.’ Y/N’s words struck into her like daggers. And they were right… Annie was the biggest coward. The one that ran away because it got too complicated and the fact Y/N saw that and looked down on her… She didn’t know what to say.

Dakota’s hand pushed against Annie’s chest again, “That’s enough.” The bandit wasn’t going to let this continue, making Annie finally let go of her old lover’s shirt. Y/N even swatted Annie’s hands away, the sounds of breaths heavy coming from the two lovers. Dakota pushed them away from each other, pointing a finger at the blonde then at the H/C as if they were dogs. Both just back off, staring at each other from past Dakota.

The doctor fixed her collar, dusting herself off while she took that moment to breathe. She knew Annie could easily overpower her, did she care? No. She knew she had the upper hand. They both were in a position that couldn’t be replaced. Both were important people… With powerful names…

“Let me remind you both that we don’t need this. I get it! You’re pissed off at her. She’s hung up on you… But, right now??? We have shit we got to do.” The gang leader motioned between the two, hazel eyes meeting up with the doctor’s. “Doctor?” Dakota spoke to move the attention from Annie to herself, cautiously holding out their hand to the disheveled woman. Y/N just looked down at it with a stubborn glare. A little parley on their personal matters… How fun.

“We get this done, you both can sit… Maybe, have a nice coffee above ground about it. Hell! Kill each other afterwards if you really want to! I don’t give a damn. Now, we know what we need. We need to rest, wake up and have that meeting with Vivianne with no delay.” The way Fabel spoke really showed that they knew how to keep the game fair. That’s how they liked it. Fair, sweet and short. None of this back and forth.

Annie licked the inside of her cheek, still feeling that bubbling annoyance in her gut. She was also smacked with guilt and doubt. She just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s not like she wanted to fight her. and Y/N didn’t want to fight her either… She was exhausted.

“Deal?” Dakota asked, eyebrows raising to show a more neutral face to the doctor. She didn’t want to seem like she picked a side, there was no sides.

With much contemplation, Y/N reached over to shake the bandit’s hand. She can play nice for a bit. E/C eyes met up with blue soon after, ‘I know a nice cafe we can go to when this is all over. I’m guessing you like it with extra sugar?’ The doctor signed to Annie, making the ambassador suddenly look taken aback.

“How did you—?” Annie was caught off guard, head turning to follow as Y/N walked past her to start getting their stuff together for bed. She might not have realized, but Y/N still remembered her sweet tooth. Not that she would admit it.

Dakota shook their head, rolling their eyes as they left the two to get their shit together. The bandit was expecting a cute reunion, maybe some fighting with a little bit of declarations of love… No, just got a headache. A massive one.

“Hey, Uncle. Do you have rope?” Dakota asked, coming down the stairs to see the older man at his workstation. His eye looked over to the younger Fabel, placing down an axe head he was sharpening.

“What do you need rope for?…” He asked, watching as Dakota made her way over. She stopped across the work bench, hands in her pockets with her eyes looking at all the new things her uncle had been busying himself with.

“I got two dogs that need to get along. Figured I would just tie them up until they did…” Her hands picked up a shiny blue steel knife with a beautiful redwood handle. She gave it a few practice swings, testing how the blade hid away before flicking it out again.

Miles softly hummed, “Is that what I heard upstairs…?” He turned back to his work, sanding down a handle for an axe he was making.

Dakota nodded with a dramatic head nod, folding the knife back into itself. That’s when Miles held out his hand, “Makes the place a lot more lively… Can’t say I hated it.” He said with a short laugh, making Fabel feel a little guilty. They knew what he meant, it wasn’t just him that felt that way.

She gave him the knife, watching him pull away from the desk to place it into a little sheath he had made for it. A pretty thing, lovely dark leather always looked good. “I’m sorry for not being around much, M…” She apologized, pulling a chair out from his desk that was cluttered with ideas and projects. She sat across, leaning back in it.

He took a deep breath, looking at her with tired eye. “You're all good, D… I know you’re busy with managing the gang. I gave you that responsibility after all… I know how much it takes away.” He looked back down at the wooden handle in his hand, placing down the sandpaper to test how it felt in his hands.

Dakota sighed, “…I’m working hard to stop it… I mean.. I’m not going to say much, but I’ve been establishing quite the connections.” She saw how he shook his head.

It didn’t matter how many connections a person had. For some reason, this place always took and took. It took his left eye… It took his wife… He was stagnant… Just a guy who made tools for a gang he used to run.

“Hmm… Just don’t get swept up in it, D.” He simply said, his voice quiet. It pained Dakota to see him this way… Watching him adjust that eyepatch on his face, sometimes she could see his hands shake.

“It’ll have to catch up to me to sweep me up, Uncle.” Her voice softened up, watching as he sighed and shook his head. “I’m serious.” He replied, looking up at the young bandit. Despite her being older now, he still saw that little girl that enjoyed watching him make new things.

“I know.” She exhaled, standing up from the chair. “I promise. Once this is all over, we can take a trip above ground… get some fresh air. Maybe, we can see the water too. I know you’ve always wanted to do that.” She promised, holding a soft smile. It was one of those smiles that made Miles feel at ease.

“…Sure… We’ll go see the water.” He agreed with the pretty thought. Maybe he needed to get away from all of this… But, nothing could ever fill his missing piece… Not even water. Dakota gave a wink, motioning towards the kitchen as she started to head for head. “Make sure you eat, Uncle. Don’t need you passed out on your workbench again.” She advised, footsteps echoing as Dakota went up.

The older man’s eye looks over at the urn on the shelf, “What are we going to do with this kid, Kate?…” He asked before he shook his head and got back to work on making his axe.

——

“LUTHER! RUN!” Denis yelled, sprinting down the alleyway behind his best friend. Luther was running just like he was told, looking back behind them as men started to rush them.

“I want them alive!” The man ordered, stopping his chase and pointing at his men to go after them. His lips lifted into a proud smirk, hearing the bullets fire and the feet of men running at his demand… Was this what it was like to have power Instead of being kicked to the ground?

Denis followed close behind, pulling down barrels and crates to obstruct any path. Luther knew something was fucked when they saw those bastards were starting to block off streets. They had to ditch the wagon because of it and It fucked with him, he knew what they were looking for. Their faces were well known from the papers.

BANG!

Luther found himself ducking his head, scrambling into another set of alleyways behind some brothel. Bugs and rats scurried past his feet. His heart racing in his ears made it feel as if his head was underwater. He couldn’t hear anything. Just kept running and running.

“Through here!” Luther said, finding an old building they could run through. He looked at the old doors on it, taking a step back before using as much momentum and adrenaline to kick the damn thing open. Once the door broke open, Luther pushed himself through the splintering wood. The place was dark and dusty, but he could care less…

“Denis, I think we should—” He turned behind him and saw no one. Her heart dropping instantly, all he could hear now was the sound of his own heavy breathing.

“Denis?…Brother?” He helplessly called out.

taglist; @cess02 @the-camilucha @tsukidrama @scouts-stuff

#TGWWMLs #annie x reader #annie leonhart x reader #aot scenarios #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhardt #Annie snk #annie leonhart

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endwersed · 7 months ago

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oh man. my editing progress today has been abysmal.

#i still have like 4k left to go #and that's just to finish the second draft!#after that i still need to do third and fourth drafts for the whole 13k #... i think i may have been ambitious telling myself i could get this all done by the weekend lol #tuesday/wednesday next week miiiiight be more realistic

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creative-girl · 2 months ago

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FB Greater Good au

Almost a year ago I had an idea where the Scamander brothers had a Summer of 1899 experience like the Dumbledore siblings had. I wrote this little thing but never completed it, it was only the first draft so nothing was planned or thought out. I was just going with the flow. I was going through my random folder and found it and I was like "What happens next?" like I wasn't the author 💀. Anyways, I am really interested in finishing it and I wanted to know if anyone is interested in reading more of it. Warning: it's incomplete. So, without further ado.

Newt was ten when he saw his parents murdered. He doesn’t remember much. He knew his father had hid him in the broom cupboard and he had seen it all through the small gap. There were noises, shouts and screams, and a green light and the sound of two bodies falling. The memories are all jumbled up. Afterwards he had spent months in St. Mungo’s not responding to anyone or anything.

When he had recovered he had been given to his brother, Theseus, who had just been eighteen. They didn’t talk much. Theseus was working some job while also doing auror training. He was almost always out of the house. The only meal they had together was dinner as Theseus would always leave early. He would help me with nightmares, Newt mused.

The early days after he had returned from St. Mungo’s he had night terrors. Where the night of his parents’ demise would come to haunt him in his dreams. He would wake screaming, but Theseus was always there. They wouldn’t talk about it but he would still stay there till sleep welcomed Newt again.

Even after Newt had started Hogwarts, they didn’t send long letters as others did but only small notes in the form of the muggle telegram messages. Even after Theseus had become an actual auror, they would not talk much, only the necessities, such as; “Have you eaten yet?” “When will you return?” “Do you need anything for school?” “We have run out of tea! Again!”

Newt spent most of his time alone, reading, drawing and wandering around the woods. Even when Theseus and Newt were in the same room, he felt lonely. Even on weekends Theseus was away, later Newt found out that he preferred to spend time with his friend, Edwin Rookwood, than he did with his own brother. Newt liked to pretend it didn’t bother him but it did. Especially when Theseus would lie about his whereabouts. Newt didn’t understand why Theseus just couldn’t tell the truth.

He had stopped coming home for the holidays in his third year. The first excuse he told himself was because he needed to take care of the raven. He had liked the holidays at Hogwarts so much more than at home that he didn’t come home in his fourth or fifth year either. He wished he had, or else he wouldn’t be waiting by the window waiting for Theseus to come home. It was near midnight, it wasn't the first time Theseus had been late; usually Newt would have dinner by himself and go to bed. Today that was not the case, today he decided that they would have dinner together and talk.

Newt had gone to Diagon Alley alone that day to buy things for his upcoming sixth year. There was the sound of a loud pop, Newt leaned a little to see the familiar brunette opening the front door. Newt grabbed a book from the pile of his new books and sat on the sofa pretending to read it.

He heard footsteps entering the room “What are you doing?” Theseus asked, a little surprised.

“Reading.” Newt said evenly, lifting his head to look at Theseus. His brother was looking at the new things Newt had bought. “You went shopping.” he said as if he was processing it.

“I did.”

“You could’ve waited for me.”

Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead he just gripped his book a little tighter “I don’t know when you have time off and, um, you are hardly ever home” He said rather sharply.

Theseus ignored the jab “Why aren't you asleep?” he kept glancing behind him.

“I hoped we could have dinner tonight together. And talk.”

“I already had dinner with Edwin.”

“Of course.” Newt said coldly, hearing that name he couldn’t keep his anger in “What did you talk about?”

“What?” Theseus looked and sounded confused

“What did you talk about?” Newt repeated “About domination over muggles? About how the wizardkind should be the sole ruler of the world and others it’s mere subjects?”

“What are you talking about?” Theseus asked alarmed

“Isn’t that what you think?”

Theseus looked angry and scared at the same time “Did you read my letters?”

“You left the little booklet in the library. The Manifesto.”

“You weren’t supposed to read it.”

“But I did. Is that really what you think?”

“You are too young to understand.” Theseus tried to walk past Newt to the library but Newt stopped him.

“I am old enough to understand what you think is wrong!”

“You don’t understand anything!” Theseus said sharply, “You are too innocent, and too young.”

Newt felt anger brewing inside him, but he also felt calm and cold “Don’t use my age to condescend me.”

#fantastic beasts #newt scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #harry potter #hiba speaks #theseus scamander #summer of 1899

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teastainedprose · 7 months ago

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Two sweet please, I need crumbs 🤯

Ohman, I've got the whole fic plotted out and outlines with bits for chapter 2 and 3 worked out. I keep poking at the draft, adding stuff here and there while tweaking it. I need to just focus, but man. Still, that little homesteading Reader and Cooper are living rent free in my brain and every time Too Sweet comes on my shuffled music a few more lines for the fic tumble right out. Second chapter will be a summary of these two establishing a sort of relationship and more flirting because fuck I love it. Third chapter there's a bit more action. ...Actually, third and fourth will have more action unless I merge them. Hmr. A friend inspired this little bit based on my outline notes. Tee hee.

“You’ve got some…” You trail off, eyes fixed across the splatter of blood across Cooper’s face. Was it his own, yours, or from the attacker he gutted?

Cooper’s eyes flick up to meet yours as he pauses in cleaning your wound. He grunts, swiping the back of his own hand against the splatter. He keeps eye contact as Cooper licks the back of his hand clean of the blood. You swallow, staring as Cooper only smiles coolly back. Yellow teeth flash in a ghastly grin.

“That go with the whole cannibal thing?” You gesture with your chin as Cooper smirks.

“Reckon it’s somethin’ like that, darlin’,” he drawls as he takes your hand between his own to clean it properly. He dabs up the welling blood with a wet cloth, fixated on patching you up instead of goading you further.

You yank your hand back, which startles him as that wound needs proper tending. In a flash, your hand is back in his face. Fresh blood wells within the slash as you twist your wrist, palm up with blood pooling.

An offering. How do you seduce a ghoul? With flesh and blood. “Huh,” Cooper exhales, considering. He glances your way, brow ridges rising in obvious question. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and grin.

That's enough of an invitation. In a flash, he’s got your wrist held fast against his lips. His lips press into your palm as he sucks.

#ask box #🍵 too sweet #anon ask #cooper howard x reader #fic tease #the ghoul x reader #okay this is a bit more than crumbs #this'll either be the end of chapter 3 or the start of chapter 4 #ho hum #WIP

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klcthebookworm · 3 days ago

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2024 My Year in Fic

2024 Fiction Word Count:

615,535 / 219,600 words. 280% done!

2024 ended so badly on a personal level for me, this is the gif that spoke to me to best sum up the change of the year.

Insights To Not Forget:

I had to create a new spreadsheet to track the amount of words written for the year since I couldn't trust the formulas on the one I had been using for years. According to it, I reached my goal of writing 600 words a day 100 days.

Focusing on a Single Project in a Month: This continues to be the best thing to actually completely finishing lingering WIPs. I will be putting the months with the same fandom much closer together in 2025, because I struggled to remember what I was doing with Strix: Forget the Sun.

Stories I Posted:

Star Wars: Rescue the Farmboy: Mission on Mimban: Word count = 61,218. Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade's exploration of Mimban is derailed by the unexpected Imperial presence on the planet and their way off-planet depends on finding the Kaiburr crystal before the Imperial do.

Star Wars: Sororal Lineality: Plans and High Command Word Count = 7408. Luke wakes up and plans must be made and High Command must be briefed about what happened on Bespin and what Luke and Leia are planning to do next.

Stories I Posted at Ao3 Finally: This got paused as I try to figure out what still needs to go up besides the fanmixes, and then I forgot about it.

Stories I Finished: I don't have any stories that I completed the editing on to say it is ready for publication but haven't published yet.

Stories Caught Up in Editing:

Trigun: Three of a Kind: Word count = 236,237 (20,838 written in 2022 + 182,470 written in 2023 + 32,929 written in 2024). I have finally gotten this novel to creating on the third draft. Crossing fingers that you can read it in 2025.

Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part: Word count = 14,150. And here's a great example of the focus on one thing for a month works, I have returned to Biker Mice From Mars. I didn't get edits finished this year but I tried.

Stories I Didn't Finish:

Strix: Forget the Sun: Word count = 91,269 (26,588 written previously + 4279 written in 2019 + 279 written in 2020 + 15,328 written in 2021 + 5416 written in 2022 + 23,714 written in 2023 + 15,665 written in 2024). I finally got out of the last battle and into cleaning up and hiding the paranormal from the rest of the world. Can I finish it next year and start figuring out what I have written?

Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness: Word count = 5180. I thought I had finished the first draft of this story, but realized after reviewing it for the second draft that I had neglected adding any complications so I had to start over and add some.

Sororal Lineality: Kyber: Word count = 1491. So my last month focusing on Star Wars got spent on rereading Shadows of the Empire since I plan on using some of it in this series. So, the month finished before I finished a draft of this story.

What I Think About My Stories:

My favorite story this year: Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part. Fourteen years since I worked on any of my Biker Mice fanfics, but this story and details canon to the show flew out of me. Too bad all my writing projects don't move that fast.

Story most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Sororal Lineality: Plans and High Command will probably get some more attention after I post it on Ao3 for May the Fourth in 2025.

Most fun story: Getting back into Biker Mice From Mars through Trigun and my own memories has been a trip, even if I had a hang-up in Sacrifice of Happiness.

Stories I wrote that I never thought I'd write: Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness. A whole story from a bad guy's POV, which I got into Karbunkle's head pretty well.

Hardest story to write: Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness. And then I proceeded to not give him any complications because it serves the whole series development, so that also makes this the hardest story to write since I have to not make it so darn easy for him.

Biggest disappointment: Strix: Forget the Sun. Why are you not done yet? If I had managed the same amount of words that I had last year, it might have a finished draft.

Biggest surprise: Did I mention remembering things after fourteen years away? Because wow, that blew my mind.

What's your favorite piece of dialogue you wrote this year? From Strix: Forget the Sun:

Sagara was gone. He ran his tongue over his teeth and scraped it against his fangs. He groaned in disappointment.

Raven lifted herself partial off him. “Ferris? Did the light get you?”

“No, not that. Lost Boys was wrong.”

She raised herself up on her hands and knees and stared down at his face. “You pinche idiota bitched about me wanting holy water Super Soakers and you’re taking how to be a vampire from movies?”

“He got to be human after they staked the sire vampire. I didn’t think it would work that for me, not really. Let me up.”

Raven got up to her feet gracefully, and Ferris accepted the hand up she extended. They were in a library, that explained the books. “What did you think you would get?” she asked.

“My head torn off by Sagara or one of his loyal idiots.” He shrugged helplessly at her dismayed expression of disbelief. “You asked, and I swore to be honest with you.”

“As long as we’re being honest, you’re not as cute as Keifer Sutherland either.”

What's your favorite piece of description or narration you wrote this year? From Sororal Lineality: Kyber:

Light expanded out of the box and scattered different flashes of color over Luke’s face. Green, blue, yellow, orange, purple, and white tiny rectangles of light danced over his closed eyes and calm expression.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would, less, or about what you predicted? I ended up with 77 tracked projects, which honestly was far too many for focused attention. 63 were non-fiction and most of those were Six Sentence Sunday posts I started to advertise every story I have written. So I should have way fewer of those moving forward. Of the 14 fiction projects, seven are the versions for the BookWorm's Library and Ao3. It might be double dipping to count them in the same fiction word count, but novels not going on those sites will only be counted once.

Regardless, the new spreadsheet did handle that many projects but I don't want that many next year.

Number of Days I Wrote or Edited: 332 days. The count I thought I had set up in the spreadsheet doesn't work when I put a zero in because I did work on something like updating the BookWorm's Library but wasn't measuring the words. So next year, I need to measure the words even on those so it works without my having to count.

Number of Days Meeting or Exceeding the daily 600 word count: 100 days.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? I think it was less risk taking and more getting down to basics of writing. Do it every day and try to hit the 600 daily word count every day. I did notice that without outside accountability eyes (even if the group ultimately didn't care what my results are) my results on Strix: Forget the Sun decreased. So I think I need to be more public with that novel's progress next year.

Did you meet last year's goals? Let's find out. The goals from my 2024 one-page business plan are:

Writing Strix series:

April, September: Finish Strix: Forget the Sun first draft

April, September: Edit Strix: Forget the Sun

April, September: Send Strix: Forget the Sun to a developmental editor

Writing Star Wars stories:

May, October: Conlanging Honoghran = Finished enough to finish the scene I wanted in Mission on Mimban

May, October: Edit Mission on Mimban to second draft = Finished

May, October: Send Mission on Mimban to beta = Finished

May, October: Edit Mission on Mimban to third draft = Finished

May, October: Edit Sororal Lineality: Plans and High Command to second draft = Finished

May, October: Send SL: Plans and High Command to beta = Finished

May, October: Edit SL: Plans and High Command to third draft = Finished

May, October: Finish Rescue the Farmboy: Extrication first draft

May, October: Finish SL: Kyber first draft

May, October: Outline Everybody Lives But Maul story = Finished

Writing Biker Mice From Mars stories

March, August: Finish Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness first draft

March, August: Finish Evil Jack: 'Til Death Do We Part first draft = Finished

Writing Trigun fanfics

January, June, November: Finish Trigun: Three of a Kind first draft = Finished

January, June, November: Edit Trigun: Three of a Kind to second draft = Finished

January, June, November: Send Trigun: Three of a Kind to beta = Finished

January, June, November: Edit Trigun: Three of a Kind to third draft

BookWorm's Library maintenance

July, December: Make sure software is up-to-date

July, December: Add Sororal Lineality: Miha = Finished

July, December: Add any other files that need adding

July, December: Add recipes to Cookbook

Ao3

February: Upload already published stories

February: Upload Mission on Mimban third draft = Finished

February: Upload SL: Plans and High Command after Mission on Mimban = Holding this until May 4, 2025

February: Upload thirteen fanmixes

Do you have any goals for the coming year? The goals from my 2025 one-page business plan are:

Writing Strix series:

August, September: Finish Strix: Forget the Sun first draft

August, September: Edit Strix: Forget the Sun

August, September: Send Strix: Forget the Sun to a developmental editor

Writing Star Wars stories:

April, May, July: Finish Rescue the Farmboy: Extrication first draft

April, May, July: Edit Rescue the Farmboy: Extrication to second draft

April, May, July: Send second draft of Rescue the Farmboy: Extrication to beta

April, May, July: Edit Rescue the Farmboy: Extrication to third draft

April, May, July: Finish SL: Kyber first draft

April, May, July: Edit SL: Kyber to second draft

April, May, July: Send second draft of SL: Kyber to beta

April, May, July: Edit SL: Kyber to third draft

April, May, July: Finish Rescue the Farmboy: Homecoming first draft

April, May, July: Finish SL: Ord Mantell first draft

Writing Biker Mice From Mars stories

February, June: Finish Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness first draft

February, June: Edit Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part to third draft

February, June: Edit Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness to second draft

February, June: Send second draft of Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness to beta

February, June: Edit Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness to third draft

February, June: Finish Evil Jack: last story first draft

February, June: Edit Evil Jack: last story to second draft

February, June: Send second draft of Evil Jack: last story to beta

February, June: Edit Evil Jack: last story to third draft

Writing Trigun fanfics

January: Edit Trigun: Three of a Kind to third draft

Writing Zackverse stories

March, October, November, December: Finish Hyrueliana first draft

March, October, November, December: Edit Hyrueliana to second draft

March, October, November, December: Send second draft of Hyrueliana to beta

March, October, November, December: Edit Hyrueliana to third draft

March, October, November, December: Finish Gargoyles: Caught in a Web first draft

March, October, November, December: Edit Gargoyles: Caught in a Web to second draft

March, October, November, December: Send second draft of Gargoyles: Caught in a Web to beta

March, October, November, December: Edit Gargoyles: Caught in a Web to third draft

March, October, November, December: Finish Gargoyles: Wild as a Swallow's Song first draft

March, October, November, December: Edit Gargoyles: Wild as a Swallow's Song to second draft

March, October, November, December: Send Gargoyles: Wild as a Swallow's Song to beta

March, October, November, December: Edit Gargoyles: Wild as a Swallow's Song to third draft

BookWorm's Library maintenance

July, December: Make sure software is up-to-date

July, December: Add any other files that need adding

July, December: Add FanFiction Garret section to the site

July, December: Add recipes to Cookbook

Ao3

June: Upload already published stories

June: Upload SL: Plans and High Command on May 4, 2025

June: Upload thirteen fanmixes

June: Upload Trigun: Three of a Kind

June: Upload Rescue the Farmboy: Extricition

June: Upload Wars Are Won: Sacrifice of Happiness

June: Upload Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part

June: Upload Evil Jack: last story

June: Upload Zackverse: The Hyrueliana

June: Upload Gargoyles: Caught in a Web

Here's to 2025.

#my year in fic #fic life #writing life #2024 goals #2025 goals #results

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