#brought to you by the girl who barely got her zoom camera turned off in time to projectile vomit during a meeting

[lady-harrowhark]

hands down, one of the worst things about being an adult living alone is that when you get sick you have to clean up your own puke. not in an “i don’t want to do this gross thing” way, but in an “everyone deserves to have someone helping to take care of them when they’re sick” way

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ��fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Unofficial Fathers

MAIN MASTERLIST

Avengers x Teen!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,450ish

Requests: I put two requests together for this one. I hope that it’s okay.

1-What about one with the Avengers and reader (maybe they have super speed???) where the reader is a teenager and super stressed out for whatever reason so the Avengers decide to get them moving by doing something with water (like water guns, balloons, slide, etc) with them. Just like fluff, I think it’d be kinda cute 

2-Can you write an avengers x teen!reader, where she lost function in both of her legs, which makes her really sad and depressed? The others have to help her with everything and she feels bad, so she ends up trying to do things herself, but gets hurt. Maybe steve and tony play a more significant role. Thanks!

Warnings: angst / fluff / paralysis / wishing to have died 

“Hey Speedy!” Tony called over the comms. “You’re up!”

“Finally!” You exclaimed.

The mission had started almost an hour ago, and the plan had been for you to hang out in the quinjet until you were deemed needed. Which annoyed you. Even though you were barely 17, you had been a part of the Avengers for almost 3 years. Longer than even Peter Parker.

Due to some freak accident during the Battle of New York, you somehow ended up with super speed abilities. That’s how Steve and Tony found you almost 3 years old. The two were in the city for meetings and you were zooming around helping people and playing pranks. You thought it would be fun to do something to those two. But before you could do something, Tony and Steve had you pinned to the wall with part of the Iron Man suit. Apparently, their ‘meeting’ was to actually find you and bring you in.

The whole Team was interested in getting to know you very quickly and get you properly trained. Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Steve handled your combat training personally, while Tony and Bruce tested your abilities and created gear that would help you.

Steve and Tony, though definitely not a couple, took on the role of your parents. You even had begun calling them as such. Steve was Pa and Tony was Dad. They didn’t always agree on exactly how to handle you. But they loved you and that was a step above your real parents, who you didn’t even know.

“Y/N! I need you to get in the building and get anyone and everyone out!” Steve instructed. “As fast as you can! I think the building is going down!”

“You got it Cap!” You responded.

Using your super speed you rushed out of the quinjet and into the building. You zig-zagged through each floor. The first few were empty, but eventually you ran into some people. You quickly helped them out of the building to continue your search. You were almost done with you sweep when you felt the building tremble. You paused, glancing around.

“Kid!” Tony shouted in the comms. “The building is going down. Where are you?”

“Uh… I don’t think you want to know,” you responded.

“Please tell me you’re not still in the building, Y/N,” Steve said.

“I’m sorry, Pa. I’m almost done with my sweep. Just one last floor.”

“No, Y/N! Get out of there now!”

“Just one more floor!” You sped away to get to the last floor.

“I’m on my way to you, Y/N,” Tony said. “Meet me at the Northwest window.”

“Alright. I’m almost—“ 

You suddenly heard a loud cry. You turned to see a little girl huddled up in the corner as the building’s tremor’s worsened. Rushing to the little girl, you barely missed the ceiling caving down and breaking the floor.

“I’m outside the window, kid!” Tony exclaimed. “You need to get here, now!”

“There’s a kid in here!” You retorted, grabbing the little girl. You sped to the window. “You need to take her.” You held her out to Tony. 

“Not without you!”

“Just take her, Dad! Please!”

He quickly took her from your arms. “Don’t do anything! I’ll be right back!”

He flew off and the floor began to crack worse beneath your feet. You knew, even with your super speed, that you wouldn’t be able to make it out of the building without Tony coming for you. When another section of floor collapsed, you knew you needed to get out of there.

“Dad!” You shouted.

“I’m almost there, honey!” He responded. “Just hang on!”

The floor cracked beneath you, sending you falling. You grasped onto the ledge.

“Dad!” You screamed.

“Almost, there—“

“AHHH!”

The building’s roof collapsed, with the rest of the building following. You were pushed down with the debris, screaming.

“Y/N!!!” A multitude of voices screamed over the comms.

But you didn’t hear anything else, because you landed with a thud, hitting your head and blacking out before the rest of the building landed on you.

~~~

“Tony, come take a rest,” Clint urged. “At least drink something.”

You had been stuck under the building for hours at this point, with Tony working non-stop to try and get to you. 

“I can’t,” Tony responded. “My kid’s down there.”

“Scott’s almost here, he’ll shrink down and see what’s going on.”

“I can’t afford to waste a second.”

“Stark, we don’t know if moving any of this will make it worse for her,” Bucky said. “We could just be killing her faster.”

“You don’t think I know that!” Tony spun around. “But she’s the closest thing I have to a daughter! And I’ve already let her down once today.”

“You didn’t let her down.”

“I’m the one who told her to go into the building,” Steve said, everyone able to feel the self blame in his words. “I did this to her.”

“Stop with the blame game here, guys,” Clint interrupted. “Y/N wouldn’t want that. Now, we need—"

“I’m here! I’m here!” Scott yelled, running up with Hope. “Romanoff and Banner got us hooked up to cameras and we brought extra Pym particles so that we can get her out of there.” He briefly made eye contact with Tony and Steve. “We’re going to get her out of there.”

“We’ve got this,” Hope confirmed.

Shrinking, the two quickly got into the rubble. The others rushed over to the screens so that they could hear and see what was going on. It was dusty, that much was clear. But the couple were quick to follow FRIDAY’s leads on where to go. The AI was trying to to its best to sense were you were by heat signatures.

“Miss Y/N should be just below,” the AI informed the two in the debris.

“There she is,” Steve breathed out, seeing your head on the screen. It was clear that blood had been, or still was, coming from somewhere on your head. “Tell us what’s going on guys. What’s her status?”

“She’s breathing,” Hope confirmed. “She’s scratched up, but it looks like the bleeding as stopped.”

“She’s lost quite a bit of blood,” Scott added. He turned, revealing her bottom half, squished under a large piece of cement. “That’s not good.”

“Shit,” Tony whispered. “No.”

“We need to shrink her before the damage gets worse,” Hope said. “Get on the other side of her, Scott.”

“On it,” Scott replied.

“You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shrink her in 3, 2, 1.” 

Your body was quickly shrunk. Hope and Scott quickly worked together to secure you to Hope.

“Okay, she’s secure,” Scott said. “We’re on our way up.”

“You’re going to want to get everything ready,” Hope warned. “We aren’t going to want to bring her back to normal size without being ready to work.”

“Helen Cho is waiting back at the compound with her team,” Bruce informed. “Natasha and I have the quinjet ready to stabilize her as much as we can on the way.”

“Steve, Tony, you may want to stay away. It’s worse than the camera’s probably caught.”

“Not a chance.” / “Like hell!”

“Hope is right,” Clint said. “Bruce needs to be able to check her out with out you two hovering.” He looked at Bucky, the two seemingly having a silent conversation. They both took a step towards the two other men. “When they bring her out, we can’t have you two going all papa bears.”

“We’re in the quinjet,” Scott informed.

Clint and Bucky were quick. Bucky went for Steve, fighting with him to slow him down. Clint quickly shot an arrow at Tony’s arc reactor, shutting down the suit and effectively locking Tony in it. While that was happening, the others raced to the quinjet, getting it off the ground before the four men could get there.

Scott normalized himself first before helping Hope with herself and Y/N. Natasha and Bruce were waiting, ready to grab you as soon as they could. You were limp in Bruce’s arms, so incredibly so that it scared even the Hulk to his core. He and Natasha worked quickly and efficiently together to do everything they could before getting to the compound.

Back at the site, the four men had slowed down their fighting.

“How could you do that Clint?” Tony asked, clearly hurt as he was able to get his helmet off. “You have kids. You should understand the need to be with them when they’re injured.”

“I do,” Clint replied. “That’s why we knew we needed to stop  the two of you.”

“Whatever happens, it’s going to be hard,” Bucky said. “And they need to be able to fully evaluate her. It was either this or sedation… We’re sorry. We want to be there for her too."

~~~

It was two hours before Cho had finished running all the tests and an hour after that before Tony and Steve could wait at your bedside. You were all bandaged, bruised, and scrapped, but you were alive. That’s all that really matter. The test results had yet to come back, so the men had to try and be patient. You sucked in a breath, alerting the men to the possibility of you waking up.

“Y/N?” Steve softly called. “You there, doll?”

“Pa?” You rasped, head turning towards the sound of his voice while your eyes crept open.

“Hey.” He smiled.

“Hi, kid,” Tony said. 

You turned to look at him. “Dad.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I feel a hundred feet and then a building landed on me.”

“We’re not surprised there,” Steve commented.

“Hey, Y/N,” Helen Cho greeted as she walked into the room with her tablet. “How are you doing? Any unusual pain?”

“Well the drugs you’ve given me are trippy,” you replied.

“Drugs?” She repeated concerned, glancing at Tony and Steve.

“Yeah. I can feel my upper half, but my waist and below are completely numb. What did you give me, doc?”

Helen immediately went to work. She tore off the blankets covering your feet and immediately began running her pen up and down them.

“What’s going on?” You asked, trying to sit up.

“Steve, go get Bruce,” Helen ordered. Steve nodded and rushed out.

You looked at Tony. “Dad? What’s going on?”

“I-I— oh my gosh,” Tony stammered, hand covering his mouth. 

“Dad!”

“We didn’t give you any pain meds, Y/N,” Helen stated.

“What?”

“We wanted to see if there was any damage done, so we didn’t want the pain meds getting in the way.”

“So… I—I… I can’t…” You began hyperventilating. “I…”

“Honey, lay down,” Tony urged, gently pushing you onto the bed. “Breathe.”

“I’m here!” Bruce said, hurrying in with Steve. “We need to get her into the scanner and compare it to the other tests we’ve taken.” 

Helen quickly went to the head of your bed, unlocking the wheels. All of this was scaring you.

“Dad?” You looked at Tony, teary eyed, before looking at Steve. “Pa?” They both grasped one of your hands.

“We’re right here,” Steve said, bringing your hand up for a kiss as Helen and Bruce began to wheel you away.

“You both need to stay here, while we run the scans,” Bruce said.

“No! Please!” You pled, crying.

“I’ll be with you, Y/N. Tony and Steve just need to stay here.”

Bruce and Helen pushed you away as you begged and cried out for Steve and Tony. The rest of the Team rushed into the hallway to see what was happening. They witnessed you being pushed down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, looking into the room where Tony and Steve had been left. Both men looked distraught, and absolutely heartbroken.

“Steve?” Bucky questioned.

“She… She… I…” Steve couldn’t pull his thoughts together.

“Tony?” Natasha questioned. 

The man fell back into a chair, burying his head in his hands. “She couldn’t feel her legs,” Tony whispered. “She couldn’t feel her legs.”

“She thought they had given her pain killers,” Steve continued, whispering as well.

“Steve, sit down,” Bucky said, moving to help his friend. “You look like you could pass out.”

“I might… she couldn’t feel her legs…”

“She’s going to be alright,” Sam said. “Y/N’s a fighter.”

“Yeah, but… she couldn’t feel her legs…”

~~~

After getting you into the scanner, Bruce and Helen actually gave you drugs to help you calm down. You were asleep almost as soon as they were injected. The two doctors worked together to look over each scan and previously done test. Only to reach the same conclusion each time. You were paralyzed. This brought on a multitude of worries, but the biggest one had to do with your abilities. Would you ever be able to use them again? 

After finding out about the diagnosis, it was the first question to leave Tony’s lips. Tony and Steve were standing outside your med-bay room, Helen and Bruce in front of them. The two doctors sighed, glancing at one another.

“No,” Bruce answered. “She wouldn’t be able to use her abilities again.”

What they didn’t know was that you had woken up just in time to hear Tony ask the question and Bruce answer it. Covering your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop from sobbing.

“She’s going to need help with everything, especially right now,” Helen continued for Bruce. “She’s going to need to be looked after. And I—“

“We’ll do it,” Steve replied, firmly. “We’re her family, we’ll take care of her.”

“I know that you two—this whole team, sees her as family. But this is going to be a long, hard road.”

“What are you saying?” Tony asked. “That we send her away? She’s almost 17! Who would be willing to adopt her at that age? Especially when we are her family!” He motioned between himself and Steve. “We are her fathers!”

“I understand, Tony. But you need to be prepared. She’s going to need help with the little everyday things. Bathing, getting changed, going to the bathroom. Somebody’s going to need to help her with it.”

“We will,” Steve repeated, still as firm as before. “Whatever she needs, for as long as she needs it. Whether it’s officially legal or not, she is our daughter and we will help her through it all.”

“I can make her braces,” Tony said. “Just like I did with Rhodes.”

“We actually believe that it would be more valuable if she learns to live with a wheelchair first,” Bruce responded. “Just in case anything were to happen with the braces, that she wouldn’t be completely helpless.”

“I agree with Bruce on this one,” Steve said. “She needs to be able to live in a wheelchair before she tries braces.” 

“We will have her in physical and occupational therapy such, so she doesn’t lose all the muscles in her legs.”

Just then, Wanda rushed passed them, heading for your door. “Wanda?” Steve questioned. “What’s going on?”

“The pain,” Wanda replied. “She’s in so much pain.”

Following Wanda into the room, they witnessed you trying to control your emotions. Though it was clear you were upset. Tony and Steve rushed to either side of you.

“It’s okay, honey,” Tony whispered, wiping tears off your cheeks. “It’s okay.”

“N-no…” you rasped, shaking your head. “It’s… n-not…”

“Did you hear what we were talking about?” Steve asked. You nodded. “I’m so sorry, doll. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way.”

You couldn’t stop the sobs at this point. You had just gotten the worse news you could have imagined. You were paralyzed and know unable to use your abilities. In your mind, you were basically useless. 

Steve quickly got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. As he cradled you, he tried to get you to calm down. He glanced around worriedly at everyone else in the room, who didn’t know how to help.

~~~

“You need to eat, Y/N,” Tony pressed, trying to hand you a plate again. 

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, voice void of all emotion.

You had fallen asleep in Steve’s arms, where the two of you stayed until morning. Tony brought in breakfast while Steve went to get ready for the day.

“You need to eat,” he said again.

“I said, I’m not hungry,” you repeated.

Tony sighed, seating the plate down. “Do you not like waffles? I can have Happy go get something else. A burger? Fries? Ice cream?”

“I want my legs back.”

“Kid—“

“Don’t try to make me feel better about this. You have no understanding about how I am feeling.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I just—“

“Can you leave me alone? I want to be alone.”

Tony knew that you just needed a moment. So without responding, he got up and left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall next to it, running a hand down his face. The guilt he was feeling was real. If only he had grabbed you and the kid, or if he had just flown faster.

“You’re going there too?” Steve asked, coming up to lean on the wall across from Tony. 

“The guilt is real,” Tony responded.

“Yeah… I shouldn’t have had her go into the building. What was I thinking?”

“I shouldn’t have let her convince me to take the kid… but, I guess, feeling this way won’t do her any good now, will it?”

“No, unfortunately, it won’t.” Steve looked at the closed door. “How is she?”

“She refused to eat… I’m thinking about having Happy get all her favorite foods for lunch.”

“Good idea. Maybe we could even try the wheelchair out and bring her to the common area.”

“I like it.”

“I’ll let everyone know about it.”

“Yeah, I—“

“Excuse me, Boss, Captain,” FRIDAY interrupted. “But Y/N is in need of immediate assistance.”

~~~

After Tony left, you huffed. This was miserable. You didn’t want to be stuck in this bed. And, honestly, the longer you sat there, the more you needed to go to the bathroom. You just didn’t want to ask for help, you didn’t want that to be your life. Studying the distance between your bed and the toilet for a few moments, you decided to get there yourself. Besides, they hadn’t tried to stand you up and get you to walk, maybe this was all one big cruel joke.

Taking a deep breath, you flung your covers off. You pushed yourself towards the edge of the bed, helping your legs to rest over it. Other deep breath in and you pushed yourself off the bed, trying to stand. You immediately fell. Trying to brace yourself, you landed on your hands. One of your wrists cracked, failing to break your fall. In the midst of the struggle, your bladder decided to let loose, causing you to lay in a pool of your own pee. You clutched your wrist close to your chest as your door burst open, revealing two extremely worried men. You looked at them, with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I just wanted to do something by myself.” They looked at you with complete pity, which you absolutely hated.

“It’s okay,” Steve said, getting on the floor beside you, minding the puddle. He noticed your wrist. “Did you hurt yourself?”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll go run and get you clothes, sweetheart,” Tony said. “Steve will help you into the shower. It’s all going to be okay.” He rushed out.

“No it won’t,” you whispered as Steve scooped you up into his arms. “It will never be again.”

And Steve thought his heart couldn’t shatter more than it already had. As he lifted you, he could practically feel the weight that this was having on you. You wouldn’t look at him as he took you into the bathroom and set you on the shower floor.

“Can I help you undress?” Steve asked.

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes. This was your life now. Though you could undress yourself, you would always need help, basically be waited on all the time.

“If you want, I can go grab Natasha,” Steve suggested. “Or Wanda. Or, Pepper might even be in today. You love Pepper.”

“I want to be alone,” you mumbled.

“Y/N, I just want to help. Just let me help.”

“And I just want to be alone.” Tears were still falling, though you couldn’t understand how.

“Y/N—“

“Just leave me alone!” You shouted, pushing yourself into the corner.

“What’s going on in here?” Tony asked, bringing in the clothes with Pepper following.

“Leave me alone!”

“Why don’t you guys wait outside?” Pepper suggested. “I’ll help Y/N.”

Steve sighed, straightened up from his kneeled position and hurrying out of there. Tony looked at you sadly before taking his leave. Pepper shut the door and came to your side.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked softly.

“I want to be left alone,” you responded, frustrated and not willing to look her way.

“That’s not going to happen and you know it, Tony and Steve won’t allow it. Those men out there care about you and are so extremely worried. All they want to do is help.”

“I don’t care.”

She let out a small sigh. “Will you at least let me help? We need to get you out of those clothes and washed up. Especially since that wrist needs to get checked out.”

After a moment, you gave in and looked at her. “Okay.”

Pepper smiled at you briefly. “Okay.”

~~~

Apparently, there was already a hairline fracture in your wrist because of the accident. Your fall off the bed didn’t do anything to help it. You had willingly let Pepper help you clean up, but other than that you were still fighting asking for help.

The Team had tried to lift your spirits at lunch out in the common area, but to no avail. After that, you were taken to your regular room, where a twin bed had been added.

“What’s that?” You asked, you hadn’t spoken since the bathroom. 

“Someone is going to stay in here with you until things start becoming normal again,” Steve replied, pushing the wheelchair further into the room. 

“Normal,” you scoffed.

“Buck and I were thinking we could have a movie night today. Maybe try and watch all of the—“

“I just want to sleep.”

“That’s okay too.”

“I would be here too kid,” Tony added, “but Pep and I are working out somethings with the physical therapist.”

“What’s the point of physical therapy? My legs don’t work.”

“It’s to keep your muscles, so that one day you can get braces.”

You nodded, glancing around until you were staring at your tennis shoes on the floor. They were brand new, Stark designed shoes. They were meant to not wear as fast because of your speeding abilities. Your speeding abilities that you could no longer access.

“Can you do something with those?” You asked, pointing at them. 

Both Tony and Steve looked over. They got a tad deflated after remembering how excited you had been about those shoes.

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Tony responded, grabbing them. “I’ll just put them up in your closet. We can—“

“No,” you interrupted. “I want them gone.”

“Y/N—“

“I don’t need any reminders of what I’m now unable to do.”

“Sweetheart,” Tony got down in front of you, “you can still, or will be able to, do a lot. You got lucky.” He immediately regretted his last sentence, even Steve flinch.

“I got lucky? I. Got. Lucky?”

“Y/N, that’s not what—“

“Get the hell out!”

“Hey, that’s not how you talk to your—“

“My what? Father?! Cause you aren’t, remember? Maybe you should take Helen’s advice and give me away! Might make it easier on everyone!”

“You are my daughter, damn it! Whether it’s official or not, or by blood!”

“Y/N, Tony—“ Steve tried to interrupt. 

“No! I actually will say that you got lucky. You did because you have people willing to help you, willing to support you.”

“Well stop!” You shouted back. “Have you ever thought that I don’t want any of your help?! Maybe I think that you should have just left me down there to die! It would have been better that way! I’m basically useless like this!”

“Enough!” Bucky yelled, barging in with Nat. “Steve, Tony, out.”

With a glare sent their way from Nat, the two men didn’t even argue. You were refusing to look at Bucky and Nat. Half embarrassed that you said those things to the men you considered your dads, and half embarrassed that you were believing the terrible thoughts your mind was taunting you with.

Bucky and Natasha looked at each other, unsure of what exactly to do. You let them help you into bed before they left you alone, leaving with a promise to bring food later. 

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you let your thoughts consume you. How you were now useless as an Avenger without being able to have super speed. How you wished they would have just let you die. How you wish they wouldn’t be so helpful, it was driving you crazy. How you really didn’t have any family, you were all alone.

~~~

To respect your boundaries, Tony and Steve decided to let the others help them. No matter how hard it was. It hurt them to see you struggling through everything and not rush to your side. Not that you would let them help, you weren’t letting anyone without putting up a fight.

Steve and Tony had had many talks since they realized you were wishing that you had just died. Tony had made sure that FRIDAY had surveillance on you 24/7 and the Team, besides Tony and Steve, were switching sleeping in your room every night. 

It wasn’t easy on anyone, especially since you were having nightmares about being stuck down in the debris. Someone would wake you from the dream, only to be quickly shut out. The terrors would leave you trembling, sweating, and in a state of panic. But, with you not willing to let people help, the others were forced to watch you struggle with this.

Physical and occupational therapy was a whole other issue. You were rude to the therapists and unwilling to do anything. As the weeks went by, the Team could see the affect it was happening on your legs and they were concerned. Steve and Tony would watch each session from above, angry at the whole situation.

It had been two months since the whole incident, and you still weren’t showing any signs of changing your attitude any time soon.

“Come on, Y/N,” your therapist sighed. “What I’m asking you to do isn’t all that hard. I’m going to do all the work.”

“No,” you stated, determined.

“Y/N—“

“Why don’t you go help someone who’s more able to do things? Maybe someone who will actually get better. I’m sure they’d love your help."

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Tony said to Steve, watching from above. “She’s hurting herself.”

“You know we can’t force her to do anything, Tony,” Steve replied. “We have to let her do this on her own.”

“No, we don’t.” Tony turned around and headed for the room you were currently in.

“Tony! What are you going to do?”

“Use the hate she is harboring towards what happened, towards us, for her benefit.”

Tony burst into the room, causing you and the therapist to jump. You furrowed your brows, confused at what Tony and Steve could possibly be doing here.

“Hand me your leg, Y/N,” Tony demanded.

“What? No,” you responded.

“Hand me your damn leg!”

“No!”

“Fine!” Tony marched over and picked you up from your wheelchair.

“Put me down!” You tried to push off Tony. “Let me go!”

“Tony!” Steve called. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time for some tough love,” Tony responded. He set you down, not gently, on a therapy table. He grabbed your leg and began doing the exercises.

“Let go of me!” You demanded, trying to reach and pry him away, but failing. 

“No! Don’t you see what you are doing to yourself? What you’re doing to those around you?! You are miserable and you are making others miserable! Yes, what happened to you was absolute shit. Trust me, Steve and I will have that guilt with us for the rest of our lives. But it’s up to you to decide how to come out of this. You ever fight to live, fight to find the new normal, or you let yourself whither away. And I’m not about to let that last one happen.”

“You may think you’re alone in this, but you aren’t,” Tony continued. “Steve and I, the Team, we all want to help you through this. Even if that means sticking with you for life.”

During Tony’s whole thing, you had began crying. He was right, you were making yourself and everyone around you miserable.

“I’m sorry,” you cried out. “I’m so sorry… I just… I just wish…”

“I know, honey, I know,” Tony said, moving to pull you into his chest. You melted into him, crying. He placed a kiss on your head. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

“Don’t leave me, Dad.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve came over and grabbed one of your hands, gently kissing it. You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” you croaked.

“It’s okay,” Steve replied with a tiny smile. “No need to apologize. Just please don’t say that you would have rather died again. I don’t think I could take it if you did.”

“If I died or said it again?”

“Both.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Will you guys… uh, will you guys help me with my exercises?”

“Of course, honey,” Tony replied. “But maybe Steve should do the other leg, because I think I wore myself out.”

Steve stood. “I’ll exercise that leg better than you could, Stark,” he commented.

“Oh, you’re on, Rogers.” Tony swiftly stood up.

“Great,” you muttered. “Now this is going to be a thing.”

~~~

Now that you were accepting help, things were beginning to look up again. Not that things weren’t hard, but they were better and you could handle it all better. The Team had decided to celebrate, but wouldn’t tell you how. Wheeling your wheelchair into the common area, you found it pitch black.

“FRIDAY,” you called out to the AI, “can I get some lights?”

“Of course,” the AI responded.

The lights came on and suddenly you were being pelted with water from squirt guns. The Team came out of their hiding spots, laughing, as they continued to fire at you.

“Guys!” You squealed, trying to shield yourself. “Guys! St-stop!”

“Never!” Sam exclaimed as he made his way closer to you.

“Here,” Peter said, lowering himself from the ceiling. “Take this.” He offered you a large gun. “Save yourself.”

You laughed as you began to fight back. Suddenly, you were pulled backwards by both Steve and Tony, who were trying to use you and the chair as protection.

“They’ve turned against us!” Tony exclaimed.

“Help us, Y/N!” Steve added.

You couldn’t stop laughing as you, Tony and Steve worked together to try and defeat the others. The Team couldn’t stop smiling as they watched you act so happy. It was so refreshing. After the common room was all but turned into a pool, the Team decided to change and then meet down in the movie room to relax for the night. When Y/N had arrived down there, Tony and Steve had saved a place between them.

“Can I help you onto the couch?” Steve asked.

You responded with a nod and let Steve pick you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He carefully guided you through the maze of lodging teammates to the spot him and Tony had chosen on the couch.

“Thanks Pa,” you said as he set you down. You pulled your legs up close to you.

“Not a problem,” he smiled, sitting down beside you.

Tony spread a blanket over you guys. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course,” Tony responded, leaving a little kiss on your forehead.

You curled up against Tony as Steve moved your legs to rest over his lap, allowing him to massage them. FRIDAY quickly turned on your favorite movie. You glanced around, taking in everyone around you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Though your life was going to continue to have its challenges, you were glad you had found this family.

Part 2

[uwuwriting]

Zoom meetings with the kids w/ Kuroo, Akaashi and Sakusa

Request: I have been stuck inside the house with my three year old brother for the last three weeks and he keeps coming inside my room and entering the zoom call with me. So that had me thinking. How would our favorite Haikyuu dads Kuroo, Akaashi, maybe Kenma or Sakusa react to their toddlers coming into their room and joining their meeting. - anonymous. 

Awww I love haikyuu dads!!!! I have begun making the smau and I’m already like 3 chapters in but I won’t start posting until I’ve finished it or I’m about to finish it. I wanna be sure that I’ll have a trustworthy upload schedule lmao bc my midterms are coming up next week and I’m dying. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: fluff

Kuroo Tetsuro

-He was in a meeting with the firm for the past three hours. 

-He was absolutely exhausted and the only thing he wanted was to take a nap with his two year old daughter. 

-You were still at the hospital, your shift finishing in about two hours so he was basically alone.

-Your daughter was playing with her toys in his office, being as quiet as she could but exhaustion started to win her over little by little. 

-Yawn after yawn left her lips but since the sound was so small and barely above a whisper, Kuroo hadn’t realized that his little princess was tired. 

-Standing up with wobbly legs she grabbed her cat blankie and rubbed her eyes as she slowly made her way to her father. 

-With one arm hugging her blankie and the other wrapping around Kuroo’s leg, she rested her head on his leg and slowly sank down to the floor, not tugging at his pyjama leg as he expected. 

-Looking down at her he didn’t think twice before bending over and bringing her into his lap. 

-She let out a small sigh before she clutched his shirt in her small fists and was off to dreamland in record time. 

- “Kuroo-san what do you think?” 

- “Sorry my daughter distracted me.”

-And with that he went back to his meeting. 

-Throughout the rest of the meeting Kuroo rested a hand on her back, cupping her little head lightly rubbing soothing circles on her skull, staring down at her every now and then a smile adorning his features every time he saw her nuzzling into his chest.

-She was a female version of him now that he thinks of it.

-She had his crazy raven hair and stunning amber eyes while her face structure reminded him of both you and him. 

-Her personality though was all you. 

-He knew she was very young but she reminded him of you when you two first met more and more each day.

-Right at that moment she let out a small yawn again, her eyes opening slightly as she repositioned herself on his lap and went back to sleep. 

-He couldn’t love her more, at least that’s what he believed. 

-Each day she proved him wrong. 

-Saying goodbye to his coworkers he shut off his computer and went to the living room couch, laying down with his little girl in his arms. 

-Giving her one last kiss he fell asleep, a smile still present on his features. 

Akaashi Keiji 

- “The author said that those new chapters need to be edited by the end of the month. He will send you the rest when you are done with these.” 

-His eyes were bloodshot from the endless hours he had been staring at his screen. 

-Rubbing his eyes he answered every single question that was thrown at him, wishing that this one would be the last one. 

-But the universe wouldn’t have it that way for poor Akaashi making him stay up late again. 

-Thunder rumbled from outside and he wondered whether or not you had taken your son to bed with you. 

-The four year old boy was terrified of storms from a young age, always looking for comfort in either you or Akaashi. 

-But ever since his sister was born he pulled away from you two, he didn’t ask for help anymore even when he needed it and he didn’t wake you up during the night when he had a nightmare.

-Akaashi was amazed to say the least. 

-Neither of you had said anything to him about how your attention would mostly be on the baby and you guys had never dismissed his needs because of your little girl. 

-It worried him how fast his son closed in on himself. 

-He was already a shy and quiet kid but now you barely heard his voice and it broke both of your hearts. 

-Akaashi was determined to help him get out of this phase and be by his side but this assignment took up more of his time than he would’ve liked. 

-Light danced across the room as the door slightly opened but no one stepped in. 

-Keiji was about to stand up when he heard little sniffles and the light pitter patter of feet on the carpet of his office. 

-And soon enough his son rounded the corner of his desk, one arm wiping away tears as the other clutched the stuffed owl his uncle Bokuto had bought him. 

-Without losing a beat Keiji pushed his chair back and brought him in his lap, giving a small apology to his boss before momentarily turning off both camera and mic. 

- “I’m sowwy.” 

- “Shh I’m here, nothing’s gonna hurt you.” 

-Giving him a kiss on each cheek Akaashi let him snuggle in his chest, a strong arm supporting the toddler while simultaneously making him feel safe and protected. 

- “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but could we end it here? My son had a nightmare and I want to calm him down.” 

- “Of course Akaashi-san, give my regards to the little man. Goodnight.” 

-And with that the meeting was over and Akaashi was left with a crying child in his arms. 

- “Hey hey, I told you that nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here. Why don’t we go sleep with mommy hm?” 

- “I’m sowwy…”

-Akaashi kissed his head again bringing him into a tight hug as he got up from his seat. 

- “There is nothing to be sorry for now come on, mommy would want cuddles.” 

 Sakusa Kiyoomi

- “If we use the new quick that Atsumu and Hinata have been practicing then we would have the upper hand momentarily.”

-Kiyoomi let out a sigh as the meeting he had with the team would not seem to end. 

-They had been discussing tactics for the last hour and a half while the rest of the time they had been informed of the new managers they had been assigned. 

-Kiyoomi never expected to be in a zoom call while being an athlete.

-He thought that it would be useless. 

-What were they even gonna do while in the meeting? Practice? 

-But he was proven wrong once the coach called the first meeting and now Sakusa was ready to pull his hair out. 

-Thankfully he was just laying in bed so at least he was comfortable. 

-You had gone out for some much needed grocery shopping leaving Kiyoomi with his son, not wanting to take your child outside with the virus contaminating people left and right. 

-Sakusa loved spending time with his son. 

-He was a low maintenance child, just like he was when he was young, adopting the same hygiene patterns as his father even at the early age of two. 

-He had just started talking and you wouldn't stop having conversations with him, the baby only uttering a simply “dada” or “momma” or even maybe a “yes” or “no” if you were lucky. 

-It made you happy though, seeing your son slowly becoming more independent. 

-Sakusa was also happy but he was also reminded that he wouldn’t stay this young forever; before he knew it his son would be off to high school or college and he wouldn’t fit in his arms anymore. 

-Lost in thought Kiyoomi hadn’t seen the toddler make his way into the room until he felt the covers being pulled as he attempted to get on the bed *and failed bc he’s just too short*

-Letting out a chuckle Sakusa pushed his laptop to the side and leaned down to grab his son, who was now pouting an expression that was a little too similar to yours. 

- “Is that mini Sakusa I see?” 

-Kiyoomi ignored Atsumu as he settled his son on his lap letting the baby wave at the camera as his “uncles” waved back. 

- “Do you mind if he joins?” 

- “Of course not, every Sakusa is welcome.”

-Giving his son one last kiss on his head, Kiyoomi went back to listening to the boring tactics letting his son play with his fingers in the process. 

-Okay maybe it wasn’t that bad now 

TAG TEAM AY:

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[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x09 Review

Spring Break was a bit of an odd ep but helped move some key plots forward. Let’s dig in!

Well people can no longer claim that Portwell is one sided. We finally got Gina’s pov and she starts off the ep uncertain whether the shift in their relationship means that EJ likes her but by the end of the ep she seems sure of herself and that EJ likes her back. I liked that she didn’t try to pretend that nothing had changed or that she hadn’t noticed potential signs that EJ might like her; it always sucks when tv characters act like idiots. 

Perhaps the most important reveal of this ep was that Gina has a much older estranged brother who left her and her mom many years ago. That certainly makes her backstory more tragic and is definite set up for her brother to eventually return.

The writers continue to give Portwell great tropes, capping this ep off with an airport rom-com trope that also calls back to EJ getting Gina the place ticket so she could come back in S1. Not only did Gina keep EJ’s Duke sweatshirt but she altered it to fit her better which is both sweet and bold in the assumption that it was hers to keep. Gina got her sign when not only did EJ show up to drive Gina home and take her luggage but he brought her the granola bar that she had wanted but forgot to pack. I wonder if her posting on her story that she was ubering home after her flight was cancelled was intended to see if EJ would show up since the camera focused on her posting it. Also sweet that she’s taken to calling EJ, ‘ Eej’. 

EJ’s opening was good, shows a lot of his character growth from the selfish guy he was in S1 and how he’s learned to value other people which of course leads into his feelings for Gina. We got another great use of the camera as character tonight when Gina was laughing after her facetime call with EJ until she realized that the camera was on her. 

Jack was a lot of fun. Though he didn’t really change Gina’s mind over anything like the ep description said he would.  Seemed like Gina was largely over Ricky and wondering about EJ at the beginning and the end solidified her feelings for EJ but Jack didn’t really play a role in that, it’s not like he encouraged Gina to reach out to EJ or anything. There’s a vague sense in which Jack being nomadic linked him to Ricky’s unreliability in Gina’s eyes with her craving stability but that’s a stretch. Jack mentioned that the second most dangerous part of a plane ride is when the plane takes off, a hint to the blossoming Portwell relationship where in order to take off one or both of them has to risk a confession even though they could be turned down.

This ep might seem a bit weird in hindsight. The zoom parts probably won’t age well and five years from now people might be wondering why they had Gina hang out with a manic pixie dream boy of sorts for an ep.

The path is clear for canon Portwell in the finale with EJ being Gina’s second chance at romance and her first kiss since they clearly telegraphed it out of nowhere. I’ve been impressed with the great work the writers have been doing since 2x05 to build up Portwell as a ship but also work on Gina and EJ as individual characters; they’ve been the highlight of the season so far. 

There was discourse this past week over how well or poorly Portwell has been set up. Objectively very few ships on this show get much in the way of set up or consistent writing. Redlyn and Kowie had barely any set up before getting together. Seblos had none (though in fairness that was due to Disney restrictions) and Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen didn’t have much set up either. Rini did get lots of development in S1 but that’s because they had already dated and were the main ship of the show. The show’s not really about slow burns, if Jenzzara canons in the finale they’ll count and if Rina ever got together they’d also count but neither of those ships have gotten consistent development with Mazzara not being in several eps and Gina and Ricky not even interacting for the past 3 eps. 

Is Portwell a slowburn? In a sense since they did feature quite a bit in each other’s S1 plot lines and even had a fake dating plot but it is true that they were platonic and not that close in S1 so it’s a wash. There was clear set up for romantic Portwell in 1x10 with team wonderstudies and Gina staring at EJ (which interestingly enough looked more like set up for Gina to pine over EJ). I think the main problem is that even though we saw Gina and EJ hanging out in the background we didn’t get any scenes of substance between them until 2x05. It was a mistake and there should have been some scene, like EJ and Gina commiserating in 2x03 over being single on Valentine’s Day or something like that. Hell there was even that still from 2x01 of EJ and Gina looking at each other at the piano while they were in the frame between Ricky and Nini singing and having a moment  which would have been good foreshadowing but that shot wasn’t in the ep.

Whether Tim just really wanted Portwell to be a surprise in 2x05 as a mid-season twist to throw the audience off of what looked like a Rini/Rina triangle or he was unsure as to whether he wanted to go with Portwell or if he just planned it out poorly we may never know. Regardless they’ve had great writing for 4 eps in a row now which puts them slightly ahead of the 3 eps in a row of development Rina got in S1. I’m sure if someone added up their screen time they’d find that Portwell has more screen time this season than Kowie and more screen time than Redlyn or Seblos  got in S1. 

Caswell cousins was fun and Ashlyn did in fact paint EJ’s nails. 

Set up for Seblos drama next week, it’s refreshing to see Seb being jealous over Carlos flirting with other boys that’s definitely not something you see on Disney shows.

Ricky got some healing done with his mom. Enough to cover their issues? No but this is probably the best this show is capable of. There was a brief mention of therapy sandwiched between other options which sounds more like checking off a box then setting up Ricky actually going to therapy. I noticed Lynne was smiling at odd times like when she told Ricky she knew about his breakup with Nini; whether that was poor directing or acting I don’t know. Who knows if we’ll see Lynne again. As an aside still so wild that Tim named Lynne who’s been a kinda shitty mom after his own mom who he seems to be fairly close with.

Really liked You ain’t seen nothin as a song but not a fan of the Tiktok style vid. I’ll level with you wildcats, I’m too old to really get Tiktok, it just seems like a crappy version of Vine to me. Let you go was good, seemed better fitted for Joshua Bassett’s voice than some of his previous songs. A big sign that they’re not circling back to Rini for a long time for sure. Though on that note we got a bit of a hint that Ricky was Nini’s muse which may one day come back as a way to help bring them back together. 

Looking Ahead:

If there’s only 3 weeks left till the Menkies, with only 2 weeks left for rehearsal due to spring break, it’s hard to see East High winning unless North High is disqualified or has to withdraw. 

Lily is in a promo photo so she’s likely the unexpected facetime Ricky gets which is what I had theorized. Also makes it much more likely that she’s the party crasher Ricky re-evaluates in the finale though what Tim actually wants to do with those two I do not know.

There’s little point in bringing back the Valentine’s chocolate since there’s no real stakes. Rini are already broken up, Gina hasn’t spoken to Ricky since 2x06, and it’s not like Nini and Gina were ever close so even if they stopped talking to each other it wouldn’t really affect the show in any way. 

Seems pretty likely that Second Chances refers to Gina realizing that her first try with Ricky failed but her second chance with EJ won’t and that leads to her sharing her truth and cue the Portwell confession and kiss, perhaps with an assist on EJ’s end from Mazzara. We’ve gone well past the point where Portwell can be brushed off as just a plot device to help Rina but Tim is playing with fire by getting the audience so on board with Portwell if he’s once again going to have EJ lose a girl he likes to Ricky in S3.

Gina certainly needs to talk with Ricky and I do think that happens in ep 11 or 12 and leaves them on better terms. As I mentioned last week, if Tim was smart he’d slam the door on Rina if he’s going with canon Portwell or vice versa. If he wants Rina to be a slow burn he’s really botched the writing this season, it’s been too one sided and too angsty to sustain any kind of momentum or audience interest. They haven’t even interacted for 3 eps now and not only has it not affected the show but it’s inarguably made Gina’s story line much better.  Again I don’t think he’s smart enough to not try and do Portwell and then later Rina but he’s accidentally set up the Rina story line to quite easily slam the door permanently on them by having their conversation be closure for Gina who’s moved on and an apology from Ricky who never liked her back as much as Gina liked him.

Not looking forward to seeing Nini basically live out Olivia Rodrigo’s life in future seasons

Curious to see Carlos’ apology song to Seb. Ricky helping him with it is a great way to help start redeeming Ricky’s character in the audiences eye’s. According to Matt there is a bit of a Ricky/EJ rivalry this season and if it’s really happening the sleepover would be a good place to do it though I hope it’s not about Gina. 

Until next week wildcats.

[bugrry]

Hey! Love love live your writing! You are very talented and thank you for shearing your gift!

If you are taking requests could I please get a harry x mrs styles - and something along the lines of her being a famous actress and she is doing a virtual interview with James/one of the Jimmy’s and they ask about Harry and their life and maybe something like Harry interrupting the interview and joining in.

Just something cute and fluff

Hope you like the idea if not all good!

Thank you 💕

jhi my love !! thank you thank you thank you !! i love this concept !!

let me know what you think !! also i wrote this while watching the election so it is not proofread lol i’m sorry

send a request // add yourself to my taglist // here’s my masterlist

warnings: maybe some sexual suggestions? idk

word count: 772

you watch the loading dial spin as you try to connect to james corden’s zoom call. you’re to be on his show to promote your new album, but if this damn computer won’t connect--

you don’t get to finish your thought before james’ face pops up on your screen. “y/n!” you heard from your speaker. it brought a smile to your face.

“james! how’s it going?”

“oh, it’s going just lovely, how about you?” 

“as good as it can be right now.”

“yeah, i know what you mean. okay, so we’re here to talk about your new album which is coming out…” he pauses to look at his notes, “in just a few weeks! i can’t believe it’s that close already.”

you chuckle, “yeah me too, i’ve been working so much the past few months that i’m just now getting the chance to admire it all.” 

james smiled, nodding, “i’m sure it’s also super nervewracking watching the countdown to the album’s release. how are you handling it?” as james finishes speaking, you watch harry enter the room and he smiles at you as you sit at the dining table. you smile back at him as he walks into the living room and lays down on the couch. you can just barely see his mop of curls resting on the arm of the couch.

you turn back to james as he finishes his question, “i’ve been handling it okay. it’s going to be hard for anyone, but i’ve been doing things to keep my mind occupied when i’m off the clock.”

“is harry doing anything to help you keep distracted?” at this question, harry’s head perks up from his spot and you chuckle as your eyes are drawn to him. 

from across the room, harry says loudly “yeah, he is,” at the sound of his voice, james’ face lights up. harry quickly stands up and nearly runs over to where you are sat. “in more ways than one.” at this, you flush and whip your head to frown at harry, who has a cheesy and childish grin on his face.

“what? It’s true!” he chuckles, pulling a chair up to sit next to you. “i’ve been very helpful,” he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you make gagging noises at harry’s obscene pda. james just laughs and harry finally pulls away, but not after placing a discreet little kiss behind your ear. you smile at him and he returns the gesture.

“i’m sorry about him, james. he’s not usually that touchy, so i wonder what’s got him in such a mood,” you say, laughing quietly as harry’s grin just widens as he turns to look at the computer.

“nothing’s got me in a mood! can’t i just love on my girl?” you still flush at him calling you his girl, even though the two of you have been married for nearly two years. you smile down at his hand, which has made it’s way onto your thigh. it’s not necessarily a sexual action, just a comforting one, one that says i love you without actually saying it. james laughs at harry’s antics.

“no one said you couldn’t!” james says, still fighting laughs. “are you sure you haven’t had anything to drink?” harry only scoffs, squeezing your thigh momentarily.

“i’m perfectly sober!” you and james both roll your eyes at this, and chuckles fill the room. “what’s so funny? i’m just feeling lovey! i’m always lovey!”

“you are, but never when there are cameras around, h.” you turn to look at him, one of your eyebrows raised.

“that’s fair, i suppose. just felt like switching things up for once.” you smile at this, and turn back to james.

“sorry again about him. so, let’s get back on track after we were so rudely interrupted,” you say. at this, harry scoffs and stands up from his chair.

“i guess i’ll just go to the kitchen to make dinner, where i belong.” he says, already making his way to the kitchen.

“now he’s finally getting it! only took two years of marriage for him to realize i’m the breadwinner of the household.” you hear harry snort from the kitchen as james lets out yet another laugh. “no, but really, i’m so lucky he still treats me like that after so long. i’m glad he hasn’t gotten bored of me yet.”

james smiles at the lovesick look on your face, “i don’t think anyone could get bored of you, y/n.”

“i sure hope so.”

james lets out a soft mhm before looking down at his notes again. “okay, so back to your album…”

...

a/n - let me know what you think!!

taglist - @fallinforstyles @teenmagazines @ji5hine

[mendesbadrepuation]

Save Her // Peter Parker🕷

*This is based off a Tiktok I saw a long time ago and wrote a little something for it. I was scrolling through Tom Holland’s tag and saw that @lightholland​ was looking for someone to make it or have it. It was just sitting in my drafts collecting dust. So without further a do : )

I will add the link to the Tiktok...

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“What do you mean she’s been kidnapped?!” Cap says in the small conference room to Tony. 

“Shh!” Tony puts his finger in front of his lips to silence Cap. “The kid doesn’t know yet. If he finds out I’m afraid he’ll put himself in danger before we can get a proper plan.” Tony explains more. His words get quieter as more people pile into the room. Tony felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot from not getting any sleep the entire night. It was suppose to be a simple mission. She’s done it time and time before. HYDRA found an opportunity to trick everyone. All of them have been through protocol in the case that something like this does happen. He just felt ill not knowing what they could possibly be trying to get out of her. 

The room was quiet as everyone was confused  as to why they were being brought in so early in the morning. Peter was swaying side to side in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone. He was texting her repeatedly wondering where she was. He hasn’t spoke to her since the night before. He had an important Chemistry assignment to complete that occupied him for hours. The last text he had from her was a simple “I love you spider bug” That was one of her many nicknames she had for him. 

“Okay so-“ Tony begins to speak to the group and everyone turns their heads away from the distractions. Peter cuts him off. “Wait Y/n isn’t here yet.” Peter says softly as he looks at Tony. It was easy to see how Tony was fighting his thoughts on how to break the news. He sighs as his shoulders drop. Cap looks at Peter then back at Tony. Peter had been sensing something all day but he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew he felt off. “What? Is someone not telling me something?” Peter tries to keep his cool from all the silence. The group looks around in confusion. 

“Mr. Stark.” Friday comes in through the A.I. system. Her voice sounded a little concerned. “I think you will want to see this.” Tony had a feeling he knew it was about her. He was expecting some kind of news soon and much rather than later. “Pull it up.” He disregards Peter’s questions and turns his attention to the glass screen. The room goes deadly silent as a image of Y/n pops up. Peter stands straight up out of his chair as his heart jumps into his throat. The video begins to play and she was crying in pain. The right side of her face had taken some serious impact. A serious busted lip was causing blood to ooze down her chin and her tears were mixing in with the dirty blood. A scene that none of the avengers wanted to see on their teammate. Especially their sweetheart. 

A blood curling scream pierced through everyone’s ears from her torture. There was no face to the voice but it was easy to tell it was a man that was speaking. “Where is the stone?” His voice was dark, brisk, and cold like a windy winter night. It cut through Peter as if he was made of paper. 

“I don’t have it.” She says breathlessly. “Please I didn’t take anything!” The camera zooms out and there was a knife sinking deep into her flesh. He twists it ever so slightly making her scream out in horrific pain. “PETER!” She cries out for her boyfriend. The only thing that was keeping her from crossing over to a dark place. 

Peter turns his body and Cap knew what he was about to do. Cap leaps after him holding him in his arms before he makes a B-line out the door. “Let me go!” Peter struggles around trying to fight his way out of his masculine grip. The video continues in the background as they offer up a deal to get her back. “I have to get to her. I have to find her!” His legs kick around as a way to create space between the two. The team all rise from their chairs to keep him cornered in. 

“Calm down! Listen Parker!” Cap tries to stop the squirming so that Tony could propose his plan. “You can’t do this alone!” 

“No! She needs me!” A soft whimper pulls from his mouth as he slowly stops his fighting. Cap knew that Parker and him could be an even fight if he wanted. He also knew that Peter was in no state of mind to fight him off like that. He knew deep down that he couldn’t get her back alone. 

“We’re going to get her back kid. But I need you to calm down. We have to be smart about this. We can’t lose you in the process. You have to stay focused with us. You know everyone in this room is hurting. We have to do this strategically. It has to be done together..” Tony says. Peter’s eyes were watering at this point. The frustration and pain he felt seeing his girl like that took a toll on him. Peter swore to himself he’d never let anything happen to you. Not like this. His heart was shattered and his gut was empty. All he can hear is his name being called from your horrific state. He couldn’t get to you and help you. It was his own torture that surely would leave scars for him. 

“Please. We have to get her back.” Peter fumbles to his knees and Cap does his best to cushion his fall but it was no use. The video goes on a little longer. A few more screams are heard and it shuts off. 

“I was able to trace the video back sir. It looks like it was sent from a server in a remote location in Canada.” Friday speaks. 

“Everyone get suited up. We will debrief on the air carrier.” Cap says and everyone quickly goes to their stations to get suited up. It was an intense feeling in the air. Everyone of them had a one track mind. That was to rescue their teammate. No matter the risk they were getting her back alive. Peter couldn’t bare another second of this. He had his suit on in a matter of seconds and was pacing in the air carrier first. 

Once they were all inside they viewed each layout of the blueprints Friday sent them for the set location. They managed to track her phone in a closed off portion of the abandoned building. All of their thoughts were said to find the best way to get her out swiftly and safely. Each plan was ran over a couple of times to outsmart Hydra and their evil intentions. 

“Peter it’s your job to get in that bunker and get her out. You need to understand that she’s going to be really out of it and the scene could stun you. You can’t hesitate. Get her out of there.” Tony says sternly to him. There was no else best fit to get her out. Everyone knew that. Peter just had to realize that any hesitation or delays can cause the plan to backfire tremendously. 

“I will.” Peter says. He would walk through fire at this point just to save you and hold you in his arms again. 

The air carrier lands a little ways away from the secluded location. They were all careful to keep things in stealth mode so none of the sensors would be detected. The plan is set in motion and one by one each member is deployed. Each of them tackle the obstacles set in the way. They wanted it to be in and out so no extreme force would have to happen. Tranquilizers were used to put Hydra agents to rest out of harms way. We’re they mad about the kidnapping? They were beyond furious. It didn’t matter. Once they had her safe then it was time to discuss wars. 

Peter sweeps his way through the rusty old building. He blends in with each surrounding and is careful not to tip his whereabouts. Once he finds the bunker door he uses his A.I. system Karen to break in. The door opens with an unusually loud creek. He swiftly creeps inside checking for other agents. There he sees her passed out laying on the floor almost lifeless. Holding her arms and legs together is some raged black rope that left her horrible laceration burns from her fighting it. She’s only been held captive for 12 hours and they managed to hurt her this terribly? Peter felt the anger boil up inside of him. 

“Y/n!” Peter whispers to see if she would respond. She doesn’t move and his heart drops. There was blood all around her. Her suit was ripped in places where the knife had been. Peter picks her up slowly and that’s when she stirs. Immediately she tries to fight her way out considering she had no idea who it was. 

“Let me go! Please.” She whines. Her voice was so hoarse. 

“Shh. Y/n it’s me. It’s Peter. I’m here baby.” He moves some of her hair out of her face to get her to look at him. The head of his suit comes down so she could actually see it was who he said it was. He uses his tech to cut the rope around her arms and legs, freeing her instantly. 

“Peter.” She cries in relief and clings to him tightly. He takes her body and places her legs around his waist. His arms tightly wrap around so she’s hugging him. He was not about to let her out of his grip. Not until they were out of harms way. Even then he may never. Her head nuzzles into his neck and he wanted to sigh in relief from the feeling. When she was being clingy that was her thing to do. “You smell good.” She weakly whispers. It was so innocent that it made Peter’s stomach release butterflies. He knew how strong she really was and that she’d have this shaken off in no time. He still was not letting her out of his sights for awhile. Peter gently placed his chin on her head to cling to her more. He easily moves his way through the abandoned building without being spotted. Once he reaches the air carrier everyone else was starting to regroup. 

“We got her. Is everyone counted for?” Cap says as he looks around. A small count of people was taken and the doors to the carrier are sealed shut. Peter just falls to the floor with her in his arms. 

“We’re going to get you some help here soon baby.” He starts to rub her back. She remained in the same position but never lost her grip around his neck. 

“Has she said anything?” Tony asks as he bends down to rub her head softly. 

“She didn’t know it was me at first. I say she has a concussion. She’s a little out of it. She said I smell good.” Peter lightly smiles and so does everyone around. It was their y/n being herself even in the state she’s in. 

“You really do. Did your side chick buy you some new cologne?” She jokes and the mood in the carrier lightens tremendously. Everyone laughs including Peter. Y/n kept her eyes shut and her head rested in between Peter’s neck and shoulder. A smile still formed on her face from her comment. 

“You did goofy.” Peter replies and places a sweet kiss on the top of her head. 

“Just making sure it’s really you.” The tip of her nose brushes up against his neck giving him goosebumps. “Sorry I got a little blood on your suit.” She adds. 

“I think it will be okay. As soon as we get to the compound we’ll get you stitched up. I promise. Just keep talking to me. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Peter’s chest vibrates to each word he says. It was hard for her to keep her eyes open with being in the arms of her saving grace. She knew she was safe now. 

“I could go for a nice shower. I’m sure I don’t smell as nice as you do.” Her words were turning into low mumbles now. “I’m really tired Pete.” She takes in a deep breath to try and relax the searing pain that was pulsing in her arm and leg. 

“I know. Just stay with me a little longer.” He scoots over to a wall so he could lean his back against it and stretch his legs out. He resumes rubbing her back once he gets situated. “Where is our next date going to be?” Peter asks to keep her awake. 

It was silent for a good minute. “The beach.” She replies. 

“Why the beach? You hate sand.” Peter states. 

“The sound of the waves, plus the view. It would be so romantic. And I wanna surf.” Her words were a little dragged out. 

“We should make it a team vacation.” Tony adds to the conversation. 

“None of you all better wear a Speedo.” She hesitates and then whispers to Peter. “Except maybe you can Pete.” The group laughs again. Big smiles on their faces knowing they had this sweetheart back. 

Her head slowly raises up this time to look at Peter once more. Her weak arm manages to go up and she placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. His eyes softly look into her and he tilts his face into her palm. 

“Thank you for saving me.” She whispers and leans her forehead against his. 

“I will always save you.” He replies just as soft as her whisper. 

They lean into each other and like magnets their lips connect ever so softly. Y/n felt the warmth she had lost from all the torture she endeavored. Peter could finally breathe a little better knowing she was in his arms. This kiss allowed him to be grounded from all the fear he had trapped in his mind. 

“Get a room!” Tony says in disgust. The two teenagers just smile into the kiss. 

Y/n was eventually back the Avengers compound safe. There she was taken care of from all the wounds she had. And just like everyone assumed Peter didn’t leave her side the entire time. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Tagged accounts:

@im-not-here-dont-leave-a-message​ @nerdy-collector-festival​

[sehunniepotwrites]

Yours to Guard, Mine to Keep | SEVEN

SUMMARY: Two life-changing secrets were revealed to you in the span of one day: you’re the crown princess to a small country and that your best friend is actually your bodyguard. The only secret left for you to find out is that your best friend is hopelessly in love with you and he is determined to keep it that way. Why? Because his duty is to his country and not to his heart.

PAIRING: Princess!reader x bodyguard!Jaehyun GENRE: princess diaries!au, modern royal!au, bodyguard!au, high school!au, friends to lovers!au, romance, comedy, fluff, drama, slight angst WARNINGS: mentions of death (no character deaths), swearing, sexual assault/harassment, bullying, anxiety attacks WORD COUNT: 1949

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Dad,

Today was overwhelming. I’m wondering if you ever felt like this. Did people shove microphones into your face and invade your personal space?

If this is what being a royal is, I don’t want it.

It started off as a regular morning.

Just as he always did in the morning, Jaehyun’s car pulled up in front of your house and you carpooled to Neo Prep together. Just as you always did, you chose the music he sang along to as you texted Yeri memes you forgot to send her last night. And just as he always did, Jaehyun got out of his Audi first to lend you a helping hand.

But unlike usual, there were people equipped with broadcasting equipment and large professional cameras lining the entrance to the school. They shoved each other, trying to get the best views of the cars driving past the gate. News anchors were positioned with their crews, actively reporting the scene.

“This is weird,” you pointed out, your eyes looking out of Jaehyun’s tinted windows. “Is there a special event at school today?”

“No, not that I know of,” Jaehyun whispered, his brows wrinkled in confusion as he parked his car.

The moment your heeled foot touched the ground, the heavy crowd surrounding the academy’s parking lot pushed forward to circle your friend’s car. You were shocked to see so many bustling eyes on you. Jaehyun instinctively pushed you behind him, hiding your frame behind his broad back. You clutched onto his sleeve as the crowd grew closer.

People of all ages were shouting your name: there were students of the school, what looked like to be news anchors and paparazzi, and lastly, faculty and staff trying to control the crowd.

“Is that her?!” A person with a microphone called.

“Jaehyun,” you called on your bodyguard, your grip on his blazer growing tighter by the minute.

“Stay close to me,” he commanded.

“Yes, that’s her!” You heard Chungha call, a fake smile plastered on her face. “That’s my best friend — the Princess!”

Hearing your official title slip through your enemy’s mouth, you froze against your friend’s back. Jaehyun felt you stiffen behind him and muttered a string of curse words. He brought a hand to his ear, pressing down on an earpiece you never noticed him wearing. “Emergency: requesting immediate backup. The sparrow has been spotted. I repeat, the sparrow has been spotted,” he spoke into his small microphone.

The clusters of people began to shove their way closer to you and you slowly felt panic seeping through your veins. Zoom lenses and video cameras were aimed to capture your shocked expression while microphones were shoved into your face. Random people yelled your name, title, and extremely personal questions that left you unsettled. You shook at all the unwanted attention — it frightened you beyond belief.

There were flashes of light temporarily blinding you and it made you feel sick. They inched forward and it looked like they were out to get you, like they were predators and you were their meek prey.

Cold sweat started slipping down your forehead as you breathed in shallow breaths.

“Jae,” you tugged on the fabric of his jacket, your breaths growing more haggard by the second.

“I know, Princess, I know. I’m sorry,” Jaehyun turned over his shoulder to comfort you.

You shut your eyes.

Breathe.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

In and out.

“Help is on the way, I promise,” his husky voice whispered but you couldn’t hear him. You could only hear the rapid pounding of your heart.

Dizziness. Everything was spinning. The people were getting louder. You were starting to burn up in your uniform. The tie you wore was suffocating you. You couldn’t breathe. A shaky hand attempted to loosen the tie but it only constricted it even more. You felt like a fish out of water at that point, hopeless gasping for air.

Jaehyun called your name several times, his voice growing a bit louder to catch your attention. He recognized that you were having another attack, something he had witnessed many times before, and was determined to help you through it as he did in the past.

“Pretty girl, sweetheart,” he started off, his voice low and calming despite the chaos erupting in front of you.

You whimpered through the nausea.

“Princess, you’re holding my jacket, yeah? Can you tell me what it feels like?”

It was a grounding technique Jaehyun always used with you —  a way to practice mindfulness and focus on an object as distraction.

Taking deep breaths, you fiddled with the fabric in between your hands. “It- it feels soft and smooth,” you stuttered out.

“Yes, that’s good, princess. What else?”

The fabric brushed against your dry skin, “It’s made of a- a light material.”

“What else can you feel?” he pushed for you to go on, happy that you were responding.

Your hands blindly felt their way down his sleeve, skimming over his strong arms until you found his hand.

“You — I feel you.” If Jaehyun wasn’t under extreme stress over keeping you safe at that moment, his heart would have leapt out of the prison he called his rib cage.

“I feel y-your hand,” you speak out, your gasps slowly regulating with your thoughts.

“What about it?” He squeezed yours lightly and you squished his back. You

“It’s strong and warm and…”

“...and?”

Your forehead rested on his back as your breathing slowly regulated. You felt safe with him. Jaehyun always kept you safe.

“...safe,” you finished. Jaehyun couldn’t help but smile at your words, dimple popping out for a fraction of a second before a buzzing came through his ear. He pressed his unoccupied hand to his earpiece, muttering an order you could barely hear.

There were shouts coming from deep within in the crowd that grew closer. The voices sounded familiar but you couldn’t put together why they did. You opened your eyes to see the vulture-like crowd part like the Red Sea as a group of the faculty members cleared a path for you. The scholarship guidance counselor, Mr. Taeyong Lee led the way with another scholarship student, Yuta Nakamoto, by his side. They both had serious and determined looks on their handsome faces as they hurried towards your direction.

“About time you two got here,” Jaehyun glared at the two leading the faculty as you pressed against his broad back.

“Got caught up in the crowd,” Mr. Lee retorted, immediately going to your left side.

“Sorry, boss,” Yuta replied with a sheepish grin. “Hiya, Princess,” the older male greeted you with a knowing smile, his hand softly touching your arm. You were acquaintances, having known him from the scholarship program. He was flirty and sometimes aloof, but was a kind soul overall.

Yuta made his way to your right side, the three men forming a triangle around you.

“Boss?” You repeated as a question.

“I’ll explain later,” Jaehyun said definitively. He turned to Taeyong to ask him a question. “The faculty is informed on what to do?”

“Yes,” Taeyong answered sharply. He motioned to the faculty and staff building a human barrier and clearing a path to the school’s entrance.

“Let’s move,” Jaehyun commanded and the three men wordlessly guided you through the front doors and directly to the principal’s office. Taeyong and Jaehyun kept straight faces as they made their way through the crowd while Yuta’s bright smile kept you from slipping into another attack.

The doors to the office shut behind you and you heard Taeyong let out a sigh of relief.

“The Queen and my father are on the way, so is her mother,” Jaehyun reported after checking his smartphone.

Yuta kindly led you to a chair and your knees shook as you sank down into the seat.

“You’re okay now, Princess,” the senior with the kind smile told you.

“How—”

“How do I know?” Yuta cut you off with a grin. “We were assigned to be your undercover guards, too.” He gestured to your guidance counselor, the ring on his right index finger catching light. Looking closer, you noticed it was the same ring Jaehyun wore. You shifted your gaze to Taeyong trying to calm your head guard down, immediately noticing the gold band on the counselor’s right hand.

“We’re under Jaehyun’s command. We report to him.” You suddenly remembered seeing Jaehyun exchange words with Taeyong and Yuta multiple times but you thought nothing of it.

Your best friend paced back and forth in front of the door, hands running through his jet black hair as he furiously mumbled words under his breath. You could feel the anger and frustration seeping through him from where you were seated, his stomps almost shaking the room.

“Jaehyun, pull yourself together,” Taeyong tried to reason, “Princess Areum is safe.”

“But that doesn’t tell me who the leak was!” Jaehyun exploded. He rarely raised his voice and the edge in his tone scared you. “Once I find out who it is, they are going to—“

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong warned. “That is not our top priority.”

“And what is?”

“Making sure Her Highness is okay,” the eldest said. He motioned to you as you gripped onto Yuta’s sleeve with blown out eyes. “A crowd almost attacked her, for goodness sake.”

One look at you scared beyond belief was enough to bring him down. Jaehyun pinched his nose as he calmed down. “God, I hate when you’re right.”

“You may be my superior, but god, you’re too hot headed at times,” Taeyong found himself rolling his eyes at Jaehyun’s comment.

“I’m sorry, Yong.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Taeyong murmured.

Jaehyun made his way towards you with a tentative smile. He bent down to your eye level, his hand resting against the hand clutching onto Yuta’s sleeve. “Hey, beautiful.”

His thumb rubbed soothing circles into your skin and you loosened your hold. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” you found yourself saying, relaxing with his simple touch. His hand made his way to your face, swiping at your cheek.

“Good.”

“Can I have a hug?” you questioned weakly, still shaken up by the crowds. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jaehyun opened up his arms. You fell into his hold, head immediately finding its way to the crook of his neck. He kept you in his embrace as your other two guards were preoccupied with barking commands into their earpieces and aggressively typing on their smartphones.

“That was not fun. I don’t think I like this.”

“Don’t like what?” Jaehyun prodded.

“Being a royal,” you answered back. “That was too much, I can’t do it. You saw how that affected me! God, did Dad have to deal with that? How the hell did he do it?”

“I know it’s a bit overwhelming to process everything but I know you can do it, just like I know you can make yourself out to be a great princess,” Jaehyun told you, looking deep into your eyes.

You disagreed with him and he shushed you. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“And how do you see me?” you asked curiously. Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes went soft and that particular smile appeared on his handsome face. You had seen him wear that look a couple of times now but you still couldn’t put your finger on what it was.

Before Jaehyun could even attempt to answer your question, the principal of Neo Prep burst through the doors with your family trailing behind. Yunho followed closely behind clutching onto an apologetic Kibum.

Guess you would never find out the answer to that question.

taglist: @jenoscity​ @cherrym4rk​ @smoll-tangerine​ @stae-yong​ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ @shiningjaehyun​ @unicorn-aly​ @jae-bread @eileencacai​ @dumplingley​ @billiondollarworth​ @cryingforjae​ @plump-peach​ @ppangjae​ @hannie-dul-set​ @starryhyun​ @marklexleaf​ @rindomo​ @jaeismytamtation​ @euphoricdreamies​ @silverdoragon​ @bby-kji9​ @yourchasingsunsetslove​

author’s note: this is all i have for ytg so far. it’s been rough to pound this one out even though the idea lives rent free in my mind. i’m currently putting this on hiatus to work on two other fics that i’m rapidly finishing. check out the preview for one of them here! as you wish

[multi-fxndom446]

Photo Shoot

Hawks X Reader (Keigo Takami)

Warning: little NSFW at the end but barely.

Summary: you’re Hawks assistant and convince him to do a photo shoot

Based off of all the fan arts of Hawks cause damn.

~

“Hawks please!” The winged hero was making it his current mission to avoid you. He kept his wings as close as possible to him and dodged all the people that were walking around in his building making a beeline for the door. “Hawks! You can’t keep running!”

Your heels were making this a hell of a lot harder then you expected so when you saw him about to reach the door you paused and kicked off your shoes, you handed your papers to the front desk person and then took off.

He could hear your feet slapping against the marbel floor and immediately he picked up pace. His hand was just about to reach the door when he felt your hand grab onto the back of his coat, trying to pull him back.

“You just made a mistake.” Hawks smirked, pushing out the door with you still latched onto him. You eventually wrapped your arms around his neck trying to stop him when you felt his wings start to move and your eyes widened.

“Hawks do not!” You finally realized what was happening and after you caught on he took off into the air. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck and as soon as he was off the ground your legs wrapped around his waist and he held onto your legs. “Hawks put me down!”

“It was your fault for latching onto me.” He told you with a smirk on his face. Fans below were calling out to him from down below and he waved down at them without a care in the world. It was like he wasn’t even carrying his assistant around. It was normal to you yes but every time you were this close to him you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest from how anxious you were.

“You gotta do the photo shoot Hawks.” Your arms loosened around him after you flew around for a little bit. This was not the first time he has done this to you so going into work you started wearing jeans just in case it happened. “All the top heros are doing one.”

Hawks was silent and he flew around in a big circle before he landed on the roof of his building. He dropped you onto your feet and then he landed on his feet himself. “I’m just not a photo shoot person.”

“You’re the number 2 hero, this photo shoot could boost your popularity.” He walked away from you as you tried to convince him. He sat down on the edge of the building and looked over at you. He looked you up and down, stopping at your bare feet.

“You’re gonna hurt your feet.” You looked down at your feet and shrugged.

“Don’t change the subject.” You said, carefully making your way over to him. “You need the publicity.”

“Y/n I really could care less about the publicity.” He gave you a bored expression before he looked back out at the city. “I didn’t even want to be the number two hero. I wanted to be lower but here we are.”

“But you are number two so you should do these things.” You could understand where he was coming from. He talked to you about it on multiple occasions, how he really didn’t want people to pay attention to him and how if he was lower in ranks he wouldn’t have so many eyes on him. “It won’t even take long.”

“Basically what you’re saying is if I don’t do this, my ranks will possibly drop?” He didn’t even have to look at you to know you rolled your eyes at him.

“No they most likely won’t. You’re popular.” He clicked his tongue and glanced back at you with a smirk.

“I’m almost positive you want this photo shoot just so you can keep the pictures to yourself.” You stuttered a response, your face flushing red at his insinuation. He laughed while he watched you look for a response before you both got silent. Your face was still red as you looked out at the city from beside him. He looked you over smiling softly at you “Okay, I’ll do it. But only for an hour.”

“Hour and a half?” The way your eyes looked so hopeful there was no way he could say no to you.

“Fine but that’s it!” You smiled in victory and he could feel his heart warm at the sight. He’d do anything you asked him, you just didn’t know.

~

“Y/n it’s nice to see you again!” Hawks looked between you and the photographer with raised eyebrows. He was even more confused when he saw you smile at him and go to hug this person.

“I’m sorry you guys know each other?” Hawks finally asked when you broke away from your friend.

“Oh yeah Hawks this is Aki he’s the photographer.” You motioned between the two and Aki held his hand out which Hawks took reluctantly.

“Yeah I figured.” His tone was tight and you knew things would get awkward if you didn’t further explain.

“He’s a family friend. He’s like my older brother.” You told him and finally you saw him smile and the tension was gone. “Anyways, Aki?”

Aki let go of Hawks hand before glancing down at you to continue. “Who’s that?” You asked him, pointing over to a girl who was organizing his studio.

“Oh that’s Yui, she’s going to be helping me with the shoot today.” You must’ve seemed a little skeptical so he chuckled lightly, “I’ll be the one taking the main pictures, she’s just here to learn and take some photos of her own.”

You muttered a soft oh in understanding and smiled over at her. She seemed a little nervous to be doing this but she relaxed when she saw your smile. “Alright let’s get started.” Aki clapped his hands and ushered Hawks over to his back drop, “we’ll start with your hero costume which you’re wearing so that makes this easier.”

“Start with?” Hawks looked over to you and you were avoiding his gaze. “I thought this was only a hero costume shoot.”

Aki looked between you and the hero in confusion and shook his head. “It is but there will be some other pictures that fans will also like.”

Hawks was going to question more when you stopped him, “Hawks we only have an hour and a half just please listen to him.” So of course he shut up and listened then.

The first position Aki had Hawks In was just Hawks turned around. His back was to the camera then he was told to turn his upper body so he was looking at the camera. Aki asked him to move his wings so they slightly covered his face and Hawks did.

You were in the back smiling that you actually got Hawks to agree to this. Yui was looking over her camera while she watched Aki do what he was used to.

“Okay now turn around and look at me.” Hawks did as he was told although he added an exaggerated sigh. “Okay turn to your right just a little. Little more okay stop. Can you open your jacket?”

Hawks looked over at you but you only gave him an expecting look so he sighed again and did as he was told. Aki zoomed in his camera just and changed his angle just a little so it made Hawks look like he was looking down at him slightly.

“Okay now pose in whatever way makes you comfortable.” Yui watched Hawks glance at you again before he rolled his shoulders a little. She looked to you to see you smiling softly as you watched the hero and she already knew a picture she wanted to get before the end of the shoot.

Hawks spread his wings up as far as he could without breaking anything in the studio. He had his hands in his pockets and smirked at the camera. Aki seemed to love it and took multiple pictures in multiple different positions. “Alright let’s lose the jacket.”

Hawks complied and took off his jacket, waiting for you to come take it from him. When you reached him was when Yui took her photo, earning everyone’s attention. “Oh sorry, I was just testing out my settings.”

Aki took some more photos of Hawks in his hero costume and Yui captured some moments of her own as well before Aki turned to you. “Did you bring some casual clothes?”

“I’m sorry what?” Hawks asked in the back but he went ignored.

“Yeah I did. Hawks come on.” You already knew where his bathroom was so you had no problem leading the hero there.

“Y/n what the hell is this?” He asked you while you went through some of the shirts you brought. “And how did you get these?!”

“You’ve kept them in your office and forgot about them. I didn’t break into your house so relax.” He watched you pull out more shirts before you held them up to him. “Which one?”

He looked at them then at you. “I don’t care.”

“Fine this one.” You threw a black t-shirt at him but he made no move to change. “Well? Go change!”

“Alright alright” he held his hands up while he walked past you and into the bathroom. It took him a little bit to get out of his costume and into the other clothes and when he finally came out you were looking through the bags for a necklace you brought along.

“You looking for something?” He asked you and you continued to search through the bags.

“Yeah yeah just hold on.” Whatever you were looking for must’ve slipped to the bottom of the bag. “Aha! Found it! I brought you a-whoa” you cut yourself off when you turned around and saw Hawks in casual clothes. You hadn’t seen him in casual clothes in so long.

“You brought awhoa? I don’t think I know what that is.” He was teasing you and your face blushed a little after you realized what happened.

You cleared your throat before you walked over to him and handed him the necklace. “Here, Aki wanted some jewelry and I know you would’ve protested if I brought more then a necklace.”

“Well thanks for thinking of me.” He winked at you and you couldn’t even respond as he walked away to get back to the photo shoot.

These pictures you honestly thought were gonna be the ones to kill you. He just looked so good in casual outfits. There was one of him with his hand in his hair and the other hand in his pocket.

Then another with him holding his hands together and smirking at the camera. Then, your favorite one, he was standing one hand covering his mouth and the other crossed over his chest. Aki got a lot of shots with Hawks covering his mouth, not that you were complaining.

“Hey Y/n?” You hummed in response, perking up to listen to what Hawks wanted. “Can you get me some water?”

You nodded your head and went into the other room where the water was kept. It had been about an hour so there wasn’t long to go.

Aki watched you turn the corner before he turned to the hero. “Okay so I need you to take your shirt off.” He deadpanned

“What?”

“Hurry before y/n gets back! I want to get her reaction!” Aki rushed the hero who was now some reason panicking and taking off his shirt.

“Why do I need to do this?” He asked, holding his shirt in his hands.

“Because,” Aki looked to Yui for an answer but she shook her head at him and he looked back at Hawks. “The magazines sometimes have a extra page for stuff like this. I’ve done it with all the hero’s.”

“Even the women?!” Aki sighed at him

“I didn’t make them take there shirt off! Now shut up and let me take photos.” Aki brought his camera up to his face before noticing the shirt still in his hands “Hawks you can put the shirt down.”

Hawks gave him a look before tossing his shirt over to where his coat was. Aki was about to get in position again when he heard you walking back. Yui held her camera at the ready when she heard you too.

You were looking down at the water in your hand before you got in the room and looked up. You dropped the water as soon as your eyes connected to Hawks bare chest. Your face was bright red as you scrambled to pick up the water. Hawks seemed confused to your reaction, he knew he teased you but he didn’t think you would actually freak out about him being shirtless.

“Uh here” you quickly made your way over to him and handed him the water without meeting his gaze. Immediately after the water left your hand you turned away and walked back over to where you were standing, trying to get your face to cool down.

When you finally cooled down you turned back to them you still couldn’t look him in the eyes though. Out of all the shirtless ones Aki took There was one photo that he took that got your attention.

Hawks was turned to the back, his arms at his sides. It was a simple picture but it told a thousand stories. You could see the scars on his back and arms, the ones he hid. The ones Aki took special care in highlighting.

“Alright, why don’t you get changed back into your hero costume? We’ll head out and take some pictures out there.” You watched hawks walk away from the backdrop to grab his shirt, completely forgetting you were right beside his coat and shirt.

You couldn’t move though you were frozen and he smirked down at you. He grabbed the shirt and left to go get changed again, this time you stayed with Aki and Yui. ”you’re so obvious.” Aki told you as he grabbed stuff to take.

“What do you mean?”

“You both are so obvious” he rephrased, Yui nodded in agreement.

“About what?” You asked again and he just glanced at you.

“I’m sure you know.” Before you could question him again Hawks came out in his costume. He grabbed his coat off the chair and handed you the bag of clothes you brought.

“We ready to go?” Aki nodded and led the way out. On the street Aki was in front while you and Hawks were in the middle and Yui was behind.

“So I’m thinking that building.” Hawks looked to where Aki was pointing and nodded his head in approval. “The entrance is just right up here.”

“Okay we’ll meet you up there.” Hawks said and picked you up bridle style before he took off. You grabbed onto his coat as soon as you saw you weren’t on the ground anymore.

“I hate when you do that.” You told him as soon as he landed on the roof top

“No you don’t.” He laughed and walked over to the ledge. He crouched down right on the edges and overlooked what was happening. “I probably missed some important hero business for this.”

“Not anything the number one can’t handle.” You told him, walking over to sit beside him. You used to be terrified of doing it but whenever he was around you were reminded of how easily he would save you.

“It’s crazy to think about.” He glanced at you, you were watching him waiting for him to continue. “All Might has been the number one for so long and now he’s not.”

“Things change eventually. Some things have to come to an end.” You said and he went silent, taking in your words.

“Does that scare you?”

You looked over at him, “change? No I don’t think it does. I just don’t want some things to change is all.”

“Like what?” He asked you and you opened your mouth to respond when you both heard the shutter of a camera and you turned around.

“Next time a warning would’ve been nice.” Aki told you two. You giggled and got off the edge of the building to join Aki. “Alright just a few more and we’ll be done.”

“Some of me flying?” Hawks asked and Aki nodded while he set his stuff down. Hawks got set on the edge waiting for when He would be ready.

He looked over his shoulder at him and Aki took a picture of him like that so he assumed he could take off. Aki was busy taking pictures of Hawks and you were to busy admiring him to notice Yui had taken another picture of you.

At some point Hawks even took off his jacket without being asked. Aki was more then happy with that. When the shoot was over Hawks landed on the building but didn’t bother to put his jacket on. Aki was showing you some of the pictures and joking around with you causing you to laugh. Yui noticed the look in Hawks eyes. She was at the perfect angle to capture just how he felt, staring at you.

When they got everything packed up Yui and Aki left the two of you on the rooftop, knowing full well Hawks would take you wherever you needed to go. “Thank you for doing the photo shoot.”

“Anything for you.” You looked at him curiously, his tone didn’t sound teasing and he didn’t hold his usual smirk. He was being one hundred percent genuine. He grabbed his coat and held it out for you, “here.”

“I don’t need-“

“It’s colder out now, you’ll get cold when we start flying so here.” When you didn’t move to grab it he rolled his eyes and took a step closer to you, wrapping the coat around you. You immediately felt warm and not just from the coat.

He was standing so close to you that you had to look away from him so you didn’t blush. He noticed and smiled before he picked you up again making sure you were secure in his arms before he took off to his building.

~

“Hawks look!” It was a week or so after the shoot and the pictures had finally come in. “You’re on the cover of ‘Hero Weekly’”

Hawks was in his office lounging on his couch when you came in with a magazine and some other papers. He glanced at the photo they used it was the one with him covering his mouth. He furrowed his eyebrows before saying, “I’m not even in my hero costume here! How’d this get picked?”

“They probably picked it because they thought it would sell better.” You shrugged, turning the magazine back to you.

“I bet you were the one that begged for that picture to be the cover.” He teased you only to get the magazine tossed at his face.

You walked over to his desk and called to him, “they sent over all the pictures come look.”

He got up and joined you by his desk. You looked over at him when his arm brushed against yours, he wasn’t wearing his coat. You averted your gaze to the photos handing them off to Hawks after you looked. “These look good but what exactly am I supposed to do with pictures of myself?”

“Sell them?” You joked and he only smirked at you as he set the photos aside.

“I’d give them to you for free.” You rolled your eyes at him with a smile on your face before you got to his shirtless ones which wouldn’t have been a problem if Aki didn’t put a sticky note on the first picture with a message for you.

‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy these y/n’

You ripped the sticky note off the picture and crumbled it up. “What was that?” Hawks asked you but you just shook your head amd grabbed the next photo practically shoving it In his face while you stuffed the sticky note in your pocket.

The shirtless ones were the quickest for Hawks expect the last one. He was stuck on the image of all his scars. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking right then. You gently placed a hand on his arm, snapping him back to reality.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, he looked down at the picture again before looking at you. Your gaze always made him melt.

“I uh yeah.” He cleared his throat, noticing the tension he now put in the room. He quickly pointed at another stack of photos with another sticky note on it. “What’re those?”

You glanced over at them and grabbed the sticky note, “what’s it say?” He asked you and you handed it over for him to read himself.

‘These were the photos Yui captured. She wanted me to tell you guys she hopes you see what she did when she took them’ -Aki

“What does that mean?”

“Hawks..” your voice was quiet as you started going through the photos. He got in closer to you to see what had you so shocked and when his eyes landed on the first picture his breathe hitched.

“When did she take these?” You didn’t answer you just kept looking at the photos. You didn’t hand them off to him this time because he was so close to you just so he could see the pictures.

The first one at the top was the one where Hawks was handing you his coat. You two were smiling softly at each other, you didn’t even realize you were smiling at the time.

Then another, she captured it right before Hawks took off to the roof of the building. He had his arm around your shoulder getting ready to pick you up. You wondered how she got that picture.

Then when you were on the roof, it was of you watching Hawks up in the sky. You had a soft smile and you both could see very clearly how loving your eyes were. Yui made sure that you could clearly see Hawks was the one you were looking at because you could see his reflection in your eyes.

Then it was Hawks turn. Yui was backed up enough to be able to get you talking with Aki as well as the longing look In Hawks eyes. It was very obvious to both of you that his eyes were trained on you in that picture.

The last one your hands were shaking slightly. You could definitely see what Yui did when she took those but you knew there was a reason they put that picture as the last one.

It was when you and Hawks were on the edge of the building, talking. Yui took a picture of the two of you looking at each other and it felt so surreal to be looking at it. You both looked so happy looking at the other and the lighting made it look like a fairy tale.

“Uhm,” your throat felt dry as your shaky hand held onto the photo. “These are, uh, they’re.” You couldn’t even find words.

Hawks gently placed his hand on top of yours to stop it from shaking. You looked up at him with slightly wide eyes and your cheeks a little pink. You were surprised to see he didn’t seem effected at all. “They’re amazing.” He told you softly and you nodded slightly in agreement.

You were still trying to find something to say or something to do just to get out of this situation. You ended up just dropping the photo on his desk and went to go to the door but his grip on your hand only tightened and he brought you back to him.

While one hand held your wrist still the other went up to move loose strands of hair behind your ear. Your breathe hitched when you felt his hand come to rest on your jaw.

“I think we saw what she did.” You finally got out and his lips turned up into a soft smile as he nodded his head.

“I think we did.” His thumb ran soothingly over your cheek as he looked in your eyes as if he was searching for something. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah” you were a little breathless you felt like he kept getting closer and maybe he was.

“What things do you not want to change?” Your mind went back to the conversation you had with him on the roof a few weeks ago he must’ve been thinking about it for awhile if he still remembered that conversation.

“You.” He seemed to relax “I don’t want my being close to you to change.”

“Why?”

“I think you know.”

He seemed to get closer to you after that but he still seemed hesitant to close the space. “I want to do something but I don’t want you to freak out.” He muttered and now he was so close that you could feel his warm breathe on your lips.

“Just do it and we’ll see if I do.” You whispered and he smirked and closed the last little distance between you.

His lips were soft and you could feel him smiling into the kiss. He let your wrist go and brought it to your waist while your hands wrapped around his neck. He pulled back slightly only to move his head a little then he went back to your lips.

His fingers pressed lightly into your waist just enough for you to gasp and for him to deepen the kiss by letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You pressed yourself up against him even more and his hand holding your cheek went to the back of your head to hold you still.

He pushed you up against his desk, making you bring one hand down to hold you up so you wouldn’t knock anything over. He started kissing down your neck when someone knocked on his door. “Hawks.” It was another assistant.

Hawks groaned in frustration but he didn’t bother to move away from you. “What?” He called out and went back to kissing down your neck.

“There’s a hero meeting they need all top hero’s to be there.” The person said but Hawks was to busy sucking lightly on your skin to respond. “Hawks?”

“I don’t want to.” He muttered against your skin and smiled when your hand went up to his hair and you pulled lightly to get him away.

“Hawks you have to.” You told him and of course he couldn’t say no to you.

“Fine but we’re finishing this later.” He smirked, giving you one last searing kiss before he left to go this meeting that ruined the best moment he was having.

Before he reached his door he turned back to you with a smirk and went back to his desk. You were watching him out of confusion before he grabbed some photos and walked back over to you.

“Here, I saw the sticky note.” If your face was red before it was bright red now as you looked over his shirtless photos. “You can have them while I’m at this meeting and we can continue when I get back.”

He left you there after that, you were speechless to say the least and Hawks smirked knowing he was the reason.

~

[jobrookekarev]

Little Moon Chapter 3

Chapter: 3/?

Words: 1243

Summary: Jo is awarded legal guardianship of Luna and gets to hold her skin to skin.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Characters: Jo Wilson, Luna Ashton, and Cormac Hayes.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Fluff, all the fluff, Babies, NICU Baby, Foster Care, Jo being a Mom! Other characters to be added.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN:  The reason I gave Jo legal guardianship, rather than just her becoming Luna’s foster mom, pending the adoption is so that Jo not only has primary custody of Luna, but she can also make medical decisions for her as her guardian. Which is important since Luna is still in the NICU and needs round-the-clock medical care.

…………………………………………………………………

The day the court’s awarded Jo legal guardianship of Luna was the happiest day of her life. Jo smiled so wide and the instant the court zoom meeting was over, she raced over to the hospital. As soon as she got there, she ran up to the NICU and almost plowed into the nurse’s station.

“They awarded me legal guardianship. I’m Luna’s guardian, which means I can make medical decisions for her, and I get to be her parent and when she goes home, she can come home with me. I mean, I know she'll still be here for several weeks and I still have to continue with the adoption, but for now, she's mine and I’m her’s,” Jo said as she smiled so wide that her cheeks hurt, but she didn't stop smiling even though no one can see it under the mask. 

“Congratulations, Jo,” Hayes said, smiling at her through his helmet.

“Thank you,” Jo beamed as many of the other nurses offered her their congratulations as well.

“So, are you ready to do some kangaroo care with her,” Hayes asked as Jo stopped in her tracks. 

“I get to hold her, skin to skin.” 

Because of the pandemic, none of the doctors had been able to do skin to skin with Luna. The pandemic had thrown everything off, and the NICU staff was extremely limited and reserved. Hayes was kind enough to let Jo see and hold Luna, despite how Jo wasn’t a part of the NICU staff, even as an OB/GYN resident.

“It will be good for Luna to be held skin to skin, and you said it yourself, you’re her parent, so you get to hold her,” Hayes said with a smile as Jo remained frozen in place. “Go get tested, and then come straight back here. If it comes back negative, you can do skin to skin with her.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Jo said, she wanted to hug him, but she knew she couldn't, so instead, she ran down to get tested. 

It seemed to take forever to get her results back, and Jo paced back and forth in front of the glass to the NICU until her results came back clear. Hayes brought her a helmet and Jo quickly put it on, relieved that Luna would get to see her face, before Jo followed him into the NICU. 

There was only one of those green rocking chairs that were always uncomfortable, but Jo didn't complain as she sat down and Hayes opened Luna’s incubator. Jo unbuttoned the blouse she had on for court and rubbed the hand sanitizer aggressively over her hands and chest, scrubbing off every germ she could have come into contact with. She nervously rubbed her fingers together as he lifted Luna up and turned around to put her on Jo's chest.

Luna was still so little, barely four pounds, but she felt surprisingly sturdy as Jo held her. She was barely the length of Jo's forearm as Jo cuddled her against her chest. Luna’s tiny little body was soft and warm, and Jo could feel her heartbeat and her legs and arms wiggle around as she held her. Hayes gently put the blanket over them, and Jo stared down at the little baby in her arms as a realization that Luna was her’s really sunk in.

“Hello Luna,” Jo said as Luna's eyes fluttered open and she greeted Jo with a big stretch as Jo smiled at her girl.

Jo felt tears collecting her eyes and she stared down at Luna. Everything seemed to slow down as if she and Luna were alone in the room. She was perfect and Jo felt like she was overwhelmed with love. She loved Luna so fiercely and so much that it scared her at the same time it filled her with a sense of calm. Jackson had once said that when Harriet laid her head on his shoulder, everything seemed right, and holding Luna now, despite the pandemic, everything seemed right.

She was filled with so much love for her baby. It was a different kind of love than the love she had experienced in the past. It was an all-consuming love that made everything else fade away as Jo stared at Luna. It was the love a mother had for her child. Jo had loved Luna before of course, she had otherwise she wouldn't be adopting her, but this was like falling deeper down the rabbit hole.

Jo had only just started working as an OB/GYN, and so far, she had fallen in love with the profession as much as she had fallen in love with Luna. She had seen many mothers have for their child. For some, it came before they were born, as mothers would rub their bumps and smile. For others, it came the moment they held their baby in their arms for the first time. And for others, it came later. Jo once saw a mom fall in love with her newborn as they reached out to their baby laying in the bassinet. The moment the infant wrapped their hand around their mom’s fingers, the mom got this beautiful smile across her face, and Jo knew in that moment that they had fallen in love with their child. Jo fell in love with Luna the moment she was placed in her arms. 

“Have you decided what she’ll call you?” Heyes asked, as Jo looked up, having completely forgotten that he was there.

Jo briefly glanced up at him to see that he had his arms crossed with a little smile as he watched them. “Umm, I don't know yet, Val was her mom, and I don't want to take that away from her. She deserves to know Val as her mom, so I don't know what I'll have her call me yet.”

“You could always do Mama or Mum or just Jo for now,” Hayes offered as Jo looked down at Luna again, who was still staring up at her.

She thought about it for a little while, trying out each name in her mind before she decided on one. The moment she said it, it felt right. “Mama, I'm your mama, my little moon.” 

Luna stared up at her and moved her little arms as if she was reaching out to Jo, who moved to hold Luna’s hand. Luna was still so tiny, and Jo knew that she wasn't aware of much, and perhaps it was a bit of a stretch, but Luna seemed to understand that Jo was her mama.

“Let's get a picture, no,” Hayes said, stepping back before he pulled out his phone. 

Jo moved ever so slightly so that Luna was more upright and smiled at the camera as wide as she could, her cheeks were still aching, but she didn't care. Hayes took a few photos and texted them to her before he left to check on the other NICU babies. 

Jo continued to stare at Luna as she fell asleep again. The beeps and sounds of the NICU around them were comforting as Jo listened to the sound of Luna’s ventilator. She held Luna’s hand and felt her tiny little fingers wiggle ever so slightly, like little tiny little threads pulling at her finger and her heart. As it was her day off, Jo didn't have to go anywhere, so she stayed in the NICU, holding Luna for longer than would usually be allowed, but no one seemed to be eager to kick her out, so Jo stayed and held her baby. Her little Moon.

[mistymark]

the one with the ex boyfriend. [jisung]

summary: you and your best friend, jisung, take part in a video interview surrounding your past relationship.

based off of ‘the exes confronting each other’ seventeen series by @skydivingstars 

[ex boyfriend interview series masterlist] [main masterlist]

[The video begins with a bare set. Both the wall and the ground are grey, save for the two black spinning stools in the middle of the screen, only a metre or two apart.]

[Two people walk in, from opposite sides of the screen, gently taking a seat on the stools. They recognise each other instantly and shoot confused looks at the camera as they tentatively sit.]

[We’re currently doing a series on exes and past relationships. I believe your mutual friend asked you to do this? Okay. Well, we’ll just be asking a few questions. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, or if you just need a break, just let us know. We can skip a question or edit a section out if you would like. Ready?]

[They both cock their heads to the side in confusion. One of them opens their mouth to interrupt.]

[Could you introduce yourselves and your relationship?]

Y/n: Uh, yeah? I’m Y/n. Jisung is my friend.

Jisung, awkwardly pointing to himself as he looks slightly off to the side of the camera: I’m Jisung

Jisung, clearing his throat: Y/n’s friend

[And how did you two-?]

Y/n, interrupting: I’m sorry, did you say exes and past relationships?

[She sits forward on her stool, leaning towards the camera as she talks to the staff. Jisung’s eyebrows are furrowed as he listens.]

[Yes, this is an interview series for people who have dated in the past. Is- is there an issue?]

[Y/n and Jisung raise their eyebrows.]

Jisung: we... we’ve never dated, though.

[You’ve never dated?]

[They shake their heads. There’s sudden motion around the camera as staff talk to each other in hushed tones. Jisung and Y/n look at each other and try to suppress a smile.]

[You never dated... even as children?]

Y/n, shrugging: I mean, maybe. If we did, I don’t remember it.

Jisung: I- I don’t think so.

[Words flash across the screen; Despite never having dated, Jisung and Y/n agreed to take part in an interview surrounding their relationship.]

[How did you guys meet?]

Jisung: we met in freshman year. we were in the same science class.

Y/n: yeah. Jisung was really shy.

[Jisung turns to Y/n and scrunches his nose.]

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n: even more shy than he is now.

[Camera pans to Jisung; he rolls his eyes.]

Jisung: I don’t remember much from the first time we met, but I knew she was loud. Like, really loud.

Y/n, laughing good-naturedly at the memory: I used to get in trouble for talking a lot, so our teacher moved me to sit beside the quietest kid in class.

Jisung, interrupting quickly: which wasn't me, if anyone was wondering.

Y/n, frowning: no, but my actual deskmate never talked

Y/n, grinning as she points at Jisung: so I used to turn around and talk to the people behind me

Jisung, playfully sounding like it bothered him: which just so happened to be me

[Normally, we would ask our participants when they first realised they were interested in each other. Did you ever want to date each other?]

Jisung, blushing: yeah, I did

Y/n, debating her answer: um...

Y/n, decisively: yes

[When?]

Jisung: after we became friends, in freshman year. I mean, I was fresh out of middle school, awkward as- oh wait, I can’t swear, right?

Jisung: I was super awkward, and she was one of the first girls to talk to me. Of course I had a crush on her.

Y/n, grinning: and then he had a huge growth spurt between junior and senior year, and then every girl wanted him to have a crush on them

[Jisung turns to her, stunned. He clearly wasn’t aware of this fact.]

[Y/n?]

Y/n, kicking her legs back and forth on her stool: mhmm?

[When did you have a crush on Jisung?]

Y/n, biting back a smile: start of senior year.

Jisung, with wide eyes: what?!

Y/n, trying very hard to ignore him, her attention kept on the camera: yeah. like I said, every girl wanted him to have a crush on them. that included me.

[Y/n laughs, though it’s obvious there is a little bit of disappointment on her face]

[Zoom in on Jisung. He’s deep in thought, looking down at the ground. You can clearly see him mouth a surprised ‘what?’]

[Next question is why did you break up so... why did you stop having a crush on each other?]

Jisung, laughing: I don’t know. I guess I just got over it. Y/n became my friend.

Y/n, pulling a face as she leans over to pinch his cheek: awwww!

[He scowls and bats her hand away.]

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n: I guess when I realised I didn’t have a chance with him? I don’t know.

[Jisung’s eyebrow quirks up at this response, and one side of his mouth lifts up in a small, private smile.]

[What do you love most about each other?]

Jisung, laughing: I don’t know?

Y/n, laughing with him: nothing; I hate jisung.

[Jisung scowls, and easily lifts an arm to reach over and ruffle Y/n’s hair]

[What do you hate most about each other?]

[Both of their smiles drop. They become serious.]

Y/n: o-oh... uh, nothing?

[Jisung looks over at Y/n before answering.]

Jisung, content with his answer, nodding: yeah, same. nothing.

[Pause. Jisung reaches down to the base of his stool for his water.]

[Would you say you were in love? When you had a crush on each other?]

[Y/n’s eyes widen at the question. Jisung almost chokes on his water. Y/n tries not to laugh at his misfortune.]

Y/n: no, I don’t think so.

Jisung: not in freshman year.

[Would you give it another- no. Would you give it a shot?]

[Both begin to blush. Subconsciously, Y/n raises a hand to her face to feel the heat coming from her cheeks. Jisung’s ears are suddenly bright red, visible when he turns to Y/n. She doesn’t look at him.]

[Remember you can skip a question if it makes you uncomfortable.]

Jisung, clearing his throat: I-

Jisung, voice almost cracking: yes

[Y/n finally looks over at him and, if possible, flushes a brighter red. She tries to contain a smile, but fails.]

[Zoom in on Y/n.]

[Y/n bites her lip.]

Y/n: I mean, yeah.

[Camera pans to Jisung. He’s grinning down at his lap.]

[Well, thank you for coming in, guys. Sorry about the confusion, but you two were great.]

Jisung, talking to the staff off camera, the microphone above him still on: what’s this series called?

[Y/n’s attention is brought to the staff, too; curious to hear the response.]

[A small breathy laugh is heard in a microphone; the staff member conducting the interview is amused by her own response.]

[Second chances. Look out for it.]

[Jisung’s eyes widen, but a grin stretches across his face as he turns to his best friend. Y/n looks at him, curious as to why he’s smiling so hard.]

Y/n: what?

Jisung: you had a crush on me at the start of school?

Y/n, rolling her eyes: oh my god, that’s what you got from that whole interview?

Jisung, teasing her: that, and the fact that you’d go out with me now.

Y/n, teasing him back: ah, yes. don’t forget you said you’d date me, too. clingy ass.

Jisung, punching her arm and shouldering his bag, laughing: shut up!

[Jisung walks off set while Y/n rifles through her bag for her phone.]

Y/n, calling out after him: hey! where do you think you’re going?

[Jisung’s voice is tinny as he’s no longer under the microphones. He yells back to her.]

Jisung: wanna get coffee?!

[Y/n grins to herself as she zips up at her bag, reaches down and grabs the bottle of water by her stool. She runs off set after him, laughing. His question isn’t verbally answered.]

[rhetoricandlogic]

By: Catherynne M. Valente

Art by: Thais Leiros

Issue: 7 September 2020

9199 words                                                                                   

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Variations in Luminance

Big Edie was a useless piece of shit.

Johanna Telle found the most significant relationship of her life on a Saturday afternoon in late May, sitting on one of those excruciatingly handmade quilts crafty stay-at-homes used to make out of their precious baby’s old clothes and putting a deep, damp dent in the buttercup-infested lawn of 11 Buckthorn Drive, Ossining, New York. A four-pointed Arkansas Traveler star radiated out around her, each of the four diamond patches so exquisitely nailing the era of the quilter’s pax materna that Johanna pulled out her Leica and snapped a shot before the homeowners could stop her: The Pretenders, Captain Planet Says No Nukes, Got Milk? and a Hypercolor tee subjected, as so many had been, to the indignity of a commercial dryer until it finally gave up the thermochromic ghost, its worn cotton-poly blend permanently stuck on a sad blown-out pink.

And Big Edie in the middle, ugly as all the sins of man, with a box of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Second Edition modules on the eastern point of the compass, a mint condition Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Sewer Lair Playset to the west, a working laserdisc player up north, and down south, one beefy hardcase Samsonite in Executive Silver with a handwritten sign on it promising a complete set of signed first edition Danielle Steel hardbacks inside. A steal at $300, suitcase included.

Still life with late 80's/early 90's. Johanna loved it.

But she only had eyes for Big Edie. The absolute and utter trashbeast technological abortion winking up cheekily at her from within a nest of vanished childhoods.

She’d driven all the way out into the golden calcified time-bubble of the Hudson Valley after the ephemeral promises of an estate sale. The people here had so much money they never had to grow or change or evolve past the approximate epoch of their children’s most precocious years. That’s how Johanna had gotten a Hasselblad for $90 and a fake phone number a couple of years ago at a fuck-Gam-Gam-just-get-rid-of-this-junk free-for-all in Stonybrook. You just crossed your eyes and hoped the kids were the type to tell everyone who never asked that social media was a disease and didn’t sully themselves with Google or eBay.

This was clearly the case on that late-May Ossining afternoon. The card balanced against Big Edie’s case read:

Does Not Work. $50 OBO.

Johanna Telle smiled in the perfect post-processed sun. The EDC-55 ED-Beta Camcorder retailed for a cool $7700 in 1987. Just over sixteen grand in 2015 funbucks. It could produce over 550 lines of resolution in an age where high definition was barely even a phrase. Automatic iris control, dual 2-3 inch precision CCD imaging, Fujinon f1.7 range macro zoom, on-the-fly audio/video editing, capable of recording in hi-fi stereo and most impressively for its time, native video playback. Angular black and matte silver bug-ugly design. The last glorious 13.5-kilogram gasp of the Betamax world, still in its hardcase shell, that particular shade of tan that meant Serious Business for the Terminally 80's Man.

In digital terms, Big Edie was prehistoric. Big Edie was fucking Cretaceous. If there was a camera set up on a tripod to record what happened when the primordial soup stopped being polite and started getting real, Big Edie would have been a top-tier choice for the discerning prosumer.

Big Edie was archaeology.

Johanna whipped her faded seafoam-green hair to one side and hefted that machine corpse onto her dark brown shoulder. She was comically heavy. The weight of a dead world, its concerns long quieted.

Johanna Telle, when she was paying attention, when she was happy, in those moments when she was most definitively Johanna, saw down to the deeps of things. It was all she was really good at, in her estimation. She saw that world, le regime ancien, projected onto the back of her skull like a drive-in theater screen.

When she was little, she’d sat criss-cross applesauce in her mother’s lap in a kind of mute blue nirvana, watching a crew send an unmanned submersible in a metal cage down the icy miles to find the HMS Titanic. Before her father left them, before they lost the house, before the hundred little fatal cuts of getting from one end of childhood to the other. Long beams of light broke the black water of forgetting and scattered across that ghostly bow and found what had been lost. Impossibly lost. Forever. Johanna had barely been able to breathe. She knew herself then, in that terrifying way you know things when you are small. The warmth of her mother’s chest rose and fell behind her, an entire universe of protection and presence. A gentle little prick of the aquamarine pendant she always wore against Johanna’s scalp. The familiar smell of Pink Window, her mother’s signature Red Door knockoff, pulsing off her clavicle. The tinny voice of a rich man floating out of the blue ocean. Later, when the neighborhood kids played games on their unforgivably Spielbergian suburban streets, hollering I’m the Incredible Hulk or I’m the Pink Ranger or I’m Tenderheart Bear, Johanna would call out something nominally culturally appropriate but whisper the truth to herself, which never changed, no matter the game or the streets: I am the exterior lighting array on Robert Ballard’s Argo ROV unit.

Johanna put her eye to Big Edie’s viewfinder. The black cup pocked gently against her cheekbone. Such a nice feeling. Like holding a girl’s hand for the first time. She stared into inert darkness.

“It only takes these weird old tapes,” someone said from outside Edie’s warm lightless innards. A friendly, well-hydrated, nicely-brought-up male voice, full of solicitude, exhausted, heartbroken, hanging in there, like the orange kitten in the old poster.

Johanna didn’t look up. She amused herself picturing the kitten putting its paws on its hips and whistling regretfully through its sharp teeth at the $50 OBO paperweight before them. She suppressed her not-very-inner snob. Yes, dear, ED Super Beta II and III series cassettes. You can still get them, anywhere between $35 and $50 a pop. You can still get anything if you don’t care what it costs.

“There’s one stuck in there. Made a nasty sound when I tried to lever it out. I don’t have any others, though. Dad didn’t stick with this one for very long. I put his digital cameras around by the hydrangeas, way better. You want me to show you?”

“Does it turn on?”

“Nope. Well, not unless it’s a Tuesday and the moon is in Pisces and you’re standing on one foot or some shit. I keep the battery charged up, though. I heard you have to do that or it degrades. I’m Jeff, by the way.”

Of course you are. That’s what they always name soft orange kittens like you.

Johanna’s fingers slid down Big Edie’s flank and found the raised plastic goose-pimple that marked the power button as easily as a practiced accordionist settling onto C Major. She pointed the lens at the bereaved child of its former owner and hit the big red square.

A firehose of light white-watered through the generous 1.5” black and white viewfinder into her cerebral cortex. In the middle of it stood, not the hang in there kitten, but a tall handsome guy in his late twenties or early thirties. Big emotive eyes, tennis shorts, dark polo shirt, with a shimmer of beard-stubble six or seven hours deep, hair the cut and style of debate team and law school and firm handshakes and warm decades ahead in a secure center-right Senate seat.

A shard of glass punched through his chest. Black monochrome blood sheeted down over his shorts and his long, grey, summer-muscled legs. His neck whipped hard to the side, like he’d suddenly seen an old girlfriend and was about to call her name, but when he opened his mouth, a jet of dark liquid spurted onto the quilt of his so-loved childhood clothes. It cut across the white block-print Pretenders in a clean spattered line.

“What’s the verdict?” Jeff asked. That voice like a clean fingernail cut through Johanna’s attention. She yanked her face up off the viewfinder. Jeff’s fine blond eyebrows arched curiously before her in full color, waiting to find out if that old Betamax monster still had juice. If the moon was, in fact, in Pisces. He shoved his hands in the pockets of a paint-splattered pair of jeans.

Johanna glanced back down into Big Edie’s gullet. It was waiting down there, that death-image of silver and ichor.

“I like your shirt,” she said. The walls of her throat stuck together. Inside the camera, that charcoal polo dripped silent-film blood onto his new white tennis shoes. Outside, he wore a slim-cut celery-green tee with Newport Folk Festival 2010 stamped across his chest in a faux-rustic font. She could look back and forth between them. Back and forth. Black and white. Color. Black and white. Grey and green. Green and grey. And wet, dripping jet-onyx blood. All that faded thermochromicity blazing back onto the scene to react with the not live but definitely Memorex heat-death of Jeff from Ossining.

Big Edie went down for the count.

The image guttered out like a pilot light, a sound both grinding and whining shook through her, and she rather ungracefully peaced out.

“$30?”

“All yours,” Jeff grinned.

He took Johanna Telle’s money and strode off across the mown lawn, through the labyrinth of his late father’s obsessions, the sun on his shoulders as though it would never leave him.

Aliasing

It’s much easier to pry a stuck tape out of a machine when you’re not that bothered if you break it. Get a screwdriver and a Sharpie and believe in yourself. It came free with significant but impotent protest, trailing a tangled mess of ropy ED Supra Beta II behind it. Johanna wound the mistreated tape back through the cartridge with the pen the way kids would never do again, and she would have been perfectly content for the rest of her days on this maudlin, over-saturated planet if she could have said the stupid suburban sun got in her eyes and that’s all she really saw.

But Betamax tells no lies.

Johanna sat on the floor of her apartment like the kid from Poltergeist all grown up, heavily medicated, and a cog in the gig economy. A massive daisy chain of converter cables hooked Big Edie up to the living room flatscreen, each one coaxing the signal five or six years forward from 1987 to the slick shiny present day.

The reflected video image washed her face in color. A forgotten pleasure, like the taste of ancient Egyptian beer. You used to always see your shot in black and white when you looked through the viewfinder. You only got to see the colors when you reviewed the footage. Inside the camera was another planet. Color was a side effect of traveling from that world to this one. Step from Kansas into Oz, cross your fingers for fidelity, saturation, hue, hope those shoes still look as red as they did before you crammed them through a lens.

So. No more black and white artsy viewfinder image. Now it was straight outta Kodachrome. But this tape sat in Big Edie’s time-out box for thirty years. Chromatic degradation slipped and popped all over the image, sickly green blooms, hot orange halos, compression artefacts, uncanny edging that rimmed this and that object in weird chemical colors.

Johanna watched a factory-direct 70's mustache-dad with tennis socks up to God’s chin helping his small, yet unmistakably Jeff, son unwrap a record player on Christmas morning. Big Edie came standard automatic fade-in and fade-out, so everything transitioned elegantly, creating a subtle sense of deliberate editing where none truly existed. Fade to black, then a slow melt into a hopeless lacrosse game, small children running nowhere, hitting each other with sticks too big for them to hold properly.

Another bloom of darkness.

A school play, reedy, vulnerable pre-adolescent Jeff dressed as a cloud fringed with silver tinsel rain, twirling and twirling, technique-free, his arms stretched out. Then another and Johanna presumed this was Jeff’s mother, the maker of the T-shirt quilt, 80% Diane Keaton, 20% Shelley Duvall, a white-wine flush on her cheeks, smiling up at the man with the camera in frank, unguarded affection and not a little desire, her shoulders bare above a strapless summer dress the color of the hydrangeas she probably hadn’t even planted yet.

Such wildly un-special moments, clichés of heart-beggaring authenticity, carefully cut out of the flow of time and pasted into the future, selected for immortality for no particular reason, random access memories transfigured into light that cannot die—but can get stuck in a metal cage for want of a Sharpie and a flathead.

Time travel. The only real time travel, unnoticed and uncredited because it was so unbearably slow. In the present, you use this astonishing machine to freeze the past. And you send it to the future. One second per second.

The image cut to black and then it was 2015 and Jeff selling off a lifetime of his father’s lovingly dragon-hoarded objets d’American masculinity. Standing on a lawn with catalogue-ready light and dark green stripes in the grass. Talking not to the man who produced and directed his childhood but to Johanna. She can hear her own voice on the recording.

Does it turn on?

He makes a joke about the moon and tells her his name. Sitting alone in the dark, Johanna realizes he was flirting with her, and she has a second to wonder what his mustached father’s name was before the glass smashes through his sternum again and blood streams down to soak a just out-of-frame blanket stitched together from mass-marketed polyester and lost time.

Johanna ran the tape back. Then she watched it again.

Back. And again.

She was still doing it when the morning broke into her apartment without announcing itself.

Five weeks later, she’ll be down to two or three run-throughs a day. An article will swim across her feed.

Late Night Four-Car Pile Up on I-84 Leaves Two Dead, Seven Injured.

Jeffrey Havemeyer of Westchester County, NY, 34, remains in critical care.

Johanna will feel nothing. She’s seen it a thousand times already.

Overclocking

“Sit there,” Johanna tells her cousin’s daughter, pointing at a cracked leather barstool.

Anika is nineteen, in her second year at Columbia. She is everything Johanna is not: mentally stable, tall, good hair, vegan, grounded by parental encouragement and affection, prone to healthy relationships, able to commit to an exercise regimen. The twenty-first-century girl. Johanna has always found her fascinating. Scientifically. It’s like hanging out with an alien. Your whole ecosystem is based in carbon and abandonment and trash, and you just always assumed those were the essential building blocks of life, but it turns out they’re totally unnecessary and sentient beings can just as well be made out of palladium and love and sensible choices instead, look at this actual good person right here, you have the same nose.

Johanna’s arthritic Great Dane watches them coolly from his massive fluffy bed.

“Your hair looks like a badger,” Anika says.

It’s been some time since Ossining and quilt and the hydrangeas and what Johanna has come to think of as the glitch. Technical difficulties. Runtime error. It’s late summer. Sweat darkens Anika’s hairline under the expected carefully messy topknot. The boroughs are one long incessant screech of twelve million window-mounted air conditioners and the smell of warm garbage bags, round and shiny on every doorstep.

Seafoam green softheart mermaid look out; icicle-white collarbone-length brutalist bob with black tips in.

“I like to think of it as ermine. You know, royal cloaks and all that.”

“Did you know ermines are just regular stoats with their winter coats on?” Anika helpfully informs her. “Not special at all. Fancy weasels. Glam weasels.”

“That’s perfect. I myself am a decidedly unspecial glam weasel.”

Johanna adjusts the tripod under Big Edie. It took Johanna weeks to gut the old girl, order parts, and convince her that modern life truly was worth living. Nothing really wrong with her at all, other than the audio-visual equivalent of osteoporosis and a bad back. Johanna loved the work. Data was invisible now. Stored on sand, transferred on air, transcending physical form. Light talking to light. But not Big Edie. She was very visible. Gross and awkward and tangible. The girl would never be good as new again. But she was good enough.

“No you’re not, you’re amazing,” Anika says softly, and Johanna can hear the little girl she’s known in that grown-up, gonna-save-the-world-with-believing-it-can-be-saved voice.

Johanna ignores this obvious lie.

They’ve already done a few shots with the Hasselblad, the Leica, a couple with her phone. She doesn’t really know why she’s putting on a show. Anika wouldn’t question just sitting in front of an old Betamax camcorder for a few minutes and then heading off for Hungarian pastries and a good full-body-cleanse political rant. But it feels important that today has the appearance of a plausibly professional kind of thing. Not that Johanna is using her.

Which she is.

Johanna doesn’t have access to a lot of people at the moment. They find her offputting. Not user-friendly. An unintuitive interface. Carbon-based.

“Can you let the blinds down halfway?” she asks.

Anika does. Slats of August light and dark slash down her face and torso (like glass slicing through skin) like an old pre-lapsarian end-of-programming test screen. It would be a gorgeous shot even if the shot was the point.

“I mean it. This apartment, your work. Margot. Mapplethorpe.” The Great Dane’s floppy black ears perk up at the sound of his name. “I love it here. You’re living the dream.”

Johanna hesitates with her forefinger over the record button. God, she remembers how much she hated it when people told her college wasn’t the real world and she had no idea what it was like out there, as if studying and working full-time wasn’t more work and less fun than the barren salt flats of adulthood between your twenties and death. But she wanted badly to shovel the same shit for Anika now. The only way you could look at this place and see a dream was through a lens that had never touched reality.

This is fine, she tells herself. The Havemeyer Glitch is not a thing. Just a shill for Big Coincidence. It’s not like he died. And besides, nothing bad can ever happen to Anika. She is a palladium-based life form. So this is fine. It’s for science. You will take beautiful footage of your beautiful niece-once-removed, and buy her a walnut kolachi, and she will tell her mother what a nice time she had.

“Margot moved out last week,” Johanna says without emotion. Margot moved out three months ago. She left a purple brush in the bathroom. Long black hair still tangled up in it. Johanna can’t bring herself to move the last cells of Margot that exist in proximity to Johanna’s cells.

“Oh,” Anika replies gently. “So that’s why you changed your hair.”

Johanna hits record.

For eighty-seven seconds, the only thing Big Edie has to say is that Anika Telle was born for the camera, a portrait of her generation, artlessly artful, a corkscrew of loose dark hair hanging forward to catch the light, one grey bare leg tucked up beneath a billowy sack dress with small elephants printed on it, the other not quite long enough to touch the peeling floor. Her expression genuinely, infinitely, but entirely temporarily sad for the misfortunes of someone else. See? This is fine. Tell her to say something. Recite Shakespeare. Or Seinfeld.

Deep in Big Edie’s viewfinder, Anika’s left eye crumples in a wet gush of pearl and black. Her head rockets back, shrouded in mist. She coughs, gags, tears streaming from her remaining eye. She’s still sitting on the barstool in Johanna’s apartment with silvery botanical wallpaper behind her, the tall window, the August sun, the half-drawn blinds. But the Anika in the camera wears black leggings, a puffy black winter coat, a black surgical mask. White duct tape criss-crosses the back of her jacket to form the words: #NOJUSTICE. She’s older, the lingering baby softness in her jaw gone, her hair a buzzed undercut. The cords on her neck stand out as she runs, her face ruined, blind with pain, stumbling, looking over her shoulder as she bolts on the video feed from one end of the living room to the other. Out of nothing, a cop in riot gear steps out of Johanna’s kitchenette, grabs the back of Anika’s skull in one hand and shoves her down. Anika-in-black falls to her knees, sobbing, puking into her mask, holding one hand to the hole where her eye used to be, screaming silently into Johanna’s (Margot’s) red paisley rug.

Johanna yanks her head up out of the sucking desaturated pit of the camera.

Mapplethorpe snores loudly. Trucks beep in reverse outside the apartment building. Anika sighs softly, bored but not rude. She scratches a mosquito bite on her knee. “I really am sorry. I liked Margot. She was good for you, I think. Got you out of the house.”

All the blood has either rushed to or drained from Johanna’s head. She can’t tell which. All she can hear or feel is her own pulse slamming itself against her eardrums.

“Do you … want me to do something?” Anika asks uncertainly.

Johanna shuts the camera down quickly. The image at the bottom of the viewfinder clicks out of existence. She tries to talk, but there’s no talk to be found. Just the burning hot green-on-red afterimage of a crystal brown eye collapsing in its socket, over and over.

“Come on, Auntie J,” Anika says finally, hopping lightly off the stool and bending down, scratching Mapplethorpe between his spotted shoulder blades. “Dinner’s on me. Malaysian okay? Maps can have a curry puff, can’t you, baby?”

Test Pattern

An experiment that cannot be repeated is evidence of nothing.

Johanna establishes a beachhead in Owl’s Head Park. Back supported by a black walnut tree. Bare toes clenched in a sea of tiny white flowers and clover-infiltrated grass. Big Edie propped against her breastbone, lens stabilized by knees on either side. Mapplethorpe’s yellow lead loops around her ankle, but the big fellow has long passed his days of running off after unsuspecting children. He munches philosophically on a pricey organic broth-basted rawhide shaped like a braided ring.

She finds a target, hits the button, rolls footage for a few minutes, tracking them as they throw frisbees for far-inferior dogs or kick soccer balls or kiss on picnic blankets or drag giant wooden chess pieces across a giant board or just walk aimlessly, whatever Saturday afternoon moves them to do. She doesn’t look through the viewfinder into that hellworld of black and white. Just presses buttons.

Turn it on.

Shut it off.

Find someone new.

Repeat.

She chooses at random. No more Anikas. No one is special, or unspecial. It doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like. They’re just data. That man, that woman, that child, that set of twin babies, those skaters, that guy sleeping with a James Patterson book over his eyes. Compressed data to be converted later.

Johanna’s brain checks out and begins a speed run through the five stages of grief over the death of a reliable reality. Denial: you’re losing it, change up your medication, girl, it’s not real, it’s not anything, just a stupid old camera that you bought because you are stupid, at best it’s old footage coming through on an old tape.

Stop recording. New person. Girl in green skinny jeans with a sketchbook.

Anger: fuck this, fuck you, fuck estate sales, fuck Robert Ballard, fuck the Columbia School of Law, fuck sad elephant print fabric, fuck hydrangeas, fuck curry puffs that make my dog poop out his soul, fuck Betamax you dumb drooling obsolete idiot tech, fuck me, fuck my dad, fuck Jeff Havemeyer’s dad, fuck I-84, fuck Margot, fuck the linear flow of time, fuck everything, life is garbage and this is proof. Why is this happening to me?

Stop. Scan. Record. Lanky white-dude dreds fuckboy in a vest but no shirt.

Depression: Of course it’s happening to me, because I am garbage and this is proof, and whatever cosmic hazmat disposal dump site got its back end trapped in my camera would only open the gates to a warped maladjust like me.

Stop. Scan. Record. Old man on the bench with god-tier eyebrows and a yellow plastic sunflower in his lapel.

Bargaining: I’ll just watch this back tonight and whatever happens, afterward I’ll tip Big Edie in the bin and never tell anyone. And then I will straighten up and clean my apartment and go on Tinder and eat leafy greens five times a day and see Anika more often and make amends and buy an exercise bike. Okay, Elder AV Club Gods? Deal?

Stop. Scan. Record. Kid on a dirt bike with (elephants) puffins on her dress.

Acceptance.

Acceptance.

Acceptance is Johanna sitting cross-legged (criss-cross applesauce) on Mapplethorpe’s bed while he snoozes jowlfully on the couch. She braces herself for red slicks of gore and bone. For Jeff and Anika redux. Once is luck, two is coincidence, three is a pattern … or at least time to wake up and smell what your inevitable descent into psychosis is cooking.

But that’s not what Big Edie has for her.

Not entirely, anyway.

Entropic Coding

Gloppy August sunlight washes out the image. Everything is overexposed, too bright, unforgiving. His thin chest rises and falls with his breath. He watches a small blue and white bird hop nervously down the iron rail of his park bench. A cerulean warbler, Johanna notes with supreme irrelevance. Closer to him, then further away, then close again. He crumbles a crust of brown bread on his tweedy knee and waits knowingly. This goes on long enough that Johanna starts to relax. It isn’t going to happen again. The bird will give in, and eat, and Johanna’s life will resume the program already in progress.

Then the sunlight cools, then it darkens, then it is a dim nothing-watt lamp with a tacky early 60's cherry pattern on the shade. The branches of black oak and Dutch elm in Owl’s Head Park still reach into the frame like kids who’ve spotted a news crew, showing off in the background, dying to get on TV. But the bench and the octogenarian perched on it have become a mustard-colored corduroy sofa and a young man with his head in his hands. Vaguely Scandinavian mid-century wooden end tables bookend the couch. A clock with thin brass spikes radiating out around it ticks over a clearly decorative fireplace. Above the man hangs a proto-Bob Ross painting of standard-issue lake/pines/mountain/lonely boat in a dizzying array of shades from brown to brown. Children’s toys cover the floor. At least one boy and one girl. Maybe more. Wooden blocks, a rocking horse with yellow yarn hair, green plastic army men. Donald Duck and Bugs Bunny and Snoopy staring lifelessly at the ceiling in a triple rictus of frozen grimaces. A book of Connie Francis paper dolls with most of the smiling valium-glazed Connies already carefully cut out hiding under the formica coffee table. A Funflowers Vac-U-Form Maker-Pak Johanna recognizes from a box of crap her grandmother let her play with the year they had to live with her because, no matter how she tried to pretend it was an adventure, her mother had no options left. You squeezed out perfumed lucite goo into molds and made “Daffy Dills” and “Tuffy Tulips” that looked like crystals in the sun until you got bored and broke a vase just to get some attention. A Spirograph and stacks of spiralled paper, scattered across the avocado shag carpet like ticker tape after the parade has gone. Like mystic offerings before the massive, inert cabinet television that probably weighs more than everyone who lives here put together. The kinds of toys you lift off a flea market shelf with joy and reverence, despite the peeling paint and chipped edges and missing vital organs.

But these are all new.

A wind moves through Owl’s Head Park and dappled shadows in the jaundiced light of the living room move across the man, the sofa, the table, the TV, the toys, the cherry lampshade.

The man on the yellow sofa looks up.

He is so young. Perhaps thirty-five, perhaps not even that. His incredible, architectural eyebrows are dark brown now; he has all his hair. He’s still wearing a suit, but this one has wide lapels, no tie, a plaid pattern that will crown endcaps in Goodwill until the sun burns out. He looks exhausted. Someone’s been smoking all night and it was probably him. maybe not just him. Butts overflow a pink pearlescent ashtray under the cherry lamp. About a third have frosted coral lipstick prints glowing on their filters, each one fainter than the last.

Johanna braces herself for the shard of glass or the ruination of his eye or gunshot or gas leak, whatever is about to break this poor soul in half. Her heart rate spins up into the rhythm of a jet propeller carrying her into nothing and nowhere. Her stomach muscles clench for impact.

But: the man gets up. Wipes his palms on his wrinkled pants. Walks across the room. Stops. Bends down to pull one perfect yellow Vac-U-Form Funflower out of the pile of misshapen attempts. Slides it into his lapel. The man leaves the house. He closes the door behind him so gently it doesn’t even click. No sound at all until his car engine starts outside, and then that’s gone too.

In the margins of the image, the cerulean warbler flies off with a cry. The shadow of his little body flickers over the empty room.

Fade out.

Fade in on the girl in the green skinny jeans and peasant blouse lying with her sketchbook under the willow tree.

Johanna makes it five people and ten minutes sixteen seconds deep by the overlarge alarm-clock-style timestamp before she scrambles off the dog bed and shuts the whole rig off.

An hour later, she gets out of bed and pads back to the living room on tiptoe, as if afraid to wake Margot’s brush. Blue light washes her cheeks and her hands and her walls and Johanna doesn’t move until it’s over.

Then she hits rewind and starts over from the beginning.

Image Burn

Mapplethorpe makes it another year before turning his creaky back on that big dog life. Since Johanna got to keep him through the quiet post-apocalypse of their union, they agreed Margot could have his ashes.

She looks the same. Just the same. As if Margot stepped out of the day she left and into today with no interruption in continuity. Johanna knows that dress, the navy blue vintagey thing with white piping and a little too much room in the torso, but that she refused to take in or give up on, because at thirty-seven, she might still have some growing left in her.

“Your hair,” Margot says softly. She steps gingerly over the map of cables and playback devices that have replaced living breathing life for Johanna and sits uncomfortably in the old bisque-colored armchair (falls asleep re-reading Harry Potter in it during a snowstorm five years ago; Johanna drapes a crocheted blanket over her and squeezes the bare foot hanging over the overstuffed arm gently, fondly). She sits as though she is trying to hover, as thought it might burn her to stay.

“What about my hair?”

“It’s … shocking.”

“It’s my hair.”

“I assumed you would have gone puce or checkerboard by now. Your actual hair hasn’t seen the light of day since high school as far as I know.”

Johanna only dimly recalls that she used to care about things like wilding her hair. It seems like a fact about a stranger. Like something she would see on Big Edie and use to pinpoint a date.

They make small talk. Margot is leaving the city soon. She’s bought a house in Providence with her wife, two blows Johanna absorbs expressionlessly as a cascade of words concerning Victorian architectural flourishes and small, private ceremonies patter down around her ears like raindrops. Mrs. Margot was apparently called Juniper, because of course she was, bet you call her June-bug too, gross. She was joining the obstetrics team at Rhode Island Hospital. Margot would teach very well-scrubbed scions of the even-better scrubbed at a private prep academy in the fall. Plant heirloom squash. Adopt three-legged rescue Labradors.

What are Johanna’s plans? If she has a gallery show before September, Margot would love to come. Anyone new in her life? How is Anika?

Well, Marge, I plan to shoot weddings and graduations and bar mitzvahs in which the cakes have significantly more artistic value than my entire self until I die alone pitched face-first into my takeout massaman with no dog and no stomach lining and no friends except a magic camera, can I get you a 40%-off Pinnacle buttered-popcorn-flavor vodka straight up, because that’s where I am right now.

But she doesn’t say that. She would never say that.

Instead, she decides to ruin Margot’s life. And in that moment, she genuinely believes it’ll work.

“Can I show you something?” Johanna says.

“Of course. Always.” Margot brushes her hair out of her eyes, now and a hundred thousand times in that chair, in this light. “New work?” Miss M was always her first audience, first viewer, the only other eye she trusted.

“Sort of. Mostly I just want you to tell me I’m not crazy.” And she doesn’t realize how entirely true that is until it’s out of her mouth and loosed on the dusty air.

Margot frowns. “You don’t look well. I didn’t want to say. Are you still drinking?”

Johanna laughs bitterly as she flips through the input options on the flatscreen. “Why would I not be drinking? Drink is friend.” She shoves delivery detritus off the couch to make a space: receipts, plastic bags, black takeout containers, breath mints and fortune cookies and after-dinner toffees.

And they watch together. Side by side. Just the same. Like it is before. Like she will pick up her purple brush again tonight and run it through her hair and come to bed and tomorrow will be years ago and the film of them will run forward from the splice.

Rather, Margot watches. And Johanna watches Margot.

The colors waver on her face like she’s underwater, staring up at the parade of strangers fading in and out before her.

The old man/young man on the park bench and the mustard-corduroy sofa.

The girl in the green skinny jeans under the willow and sitting at a bistro table with fake electronic candles as a man walks in, says her name uncertainly, kisses her cheek, orders an old-fashioned.

The guy with white-boy dreds and a vest with no shirt steps off a bike path and into a gorgeous apartment in no way decorated by a man who would wear a vest with no shirt even once, all minimalist monochrome, and a woman in pajama pants and jade chip earrings sobbing get out get out not one more minute I’m done get out.

A kid in a Spider-Man hoodie swinging upside down from a jungle gym and lying on his couch, a teenager, playing Madden on XBox, yelling to an invisible mother that he’ll mow the lawn, yeah yeah, just one more game.

And worse. A boy’s face fades into his forties on the subway. He asks why he’s being pulled over. A gash blooms on his beautiful brown neck. A student drinking alone in a bar ages fifteen years and loses twenty pounds between sips of house red. She waits for someone with frantic energy and when somebody shows up, gives her a little wax paper packet, leaves her to it, her fingers start to turn the color of corpses on the wine glass. A volunteer museum docent grows red rings and bags around his eyes but loses his wrinkles. Somewhere between the Ancient Greeks and Mesopotamian pottery, gets out of a Camry, locks it, and runs toward an appointment, wholly unseeing the baby in the backseat, asleep in a puffy lavender knitted hat.

“What is this?” Margot says. “Glitch art? Datamoshing? Like Planes and Jacquemin? What program did you use? It’s really seamless.”

“No program.”

“What do you mean ‘no program’? This is a practical effect?” Johanna chuckles mirthlessly. The screen shimmers. “Where did you find all these actors?”

“No, look, you’re not seeing. You have to look. The calendar in the apartment. The clothes the girl in the bistro is wearing. Do you recognize any of the players in that Madden game?”

“You know I don’t care about sports. I wouldn’t recognize any player’s name five minutes after I heard it.”

“Okay, fine. The song on the radio when the guy gets stuck in traffic.” She pauses it, waits for Margot to catch up, to see the faint cursive 2026-At-A-Glance calendar on the inside of the pantry door in that perfect sleek flat, the unfamiliar controls on the car dash. “I’ve never heard that song. You’ve never heard that song. Because that song doesn’t exist, on any service, in any catalogue, anywhere.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, you couldn’t possibly know that for certain, Jo.”

But Margot doesn’t see. Margot isn’t Robert Ballard’s submersible lighting array. She doesn’t know how to crawl into an image and live there. What she does glimpse in Johanna’s pleading eyes is the weight of time. Time she has spent searching for these things, for connections, hoping, honestly hoping, to find that song buried on some indie compilation CD with some revoltingly photoshopped jacket art and a discount sticker. And a thousand other objects like it. Books on televisions, limited edition toys, tie-widths, license plates, worse, more scattered, atomized, randomized information that never coalesced into anything but Johanna’s increasing silence and solitude. She vibrates so intensely it looks like she is sitting still.

And so, slowly, knowing how it sounds, hating how it sounds, Johanna explains about Big Edie as more strange moments unfold before the not-really-that-long-lost love of her life; naked bodies, and there are a lot of them, in embraces violent and lovely or both or neither, strangers meeting, over and over, in different clothes, different hairstyles, different seasons, a child abandoned in an airport in Reno, calling for her mother, surrounded by slot machines ringing in cherries and oranges, tears rolling down her face. And at the end of the reel, Jeff and his glass heart, Anika and her shattered eye, the long staircase into images that has become Johanna’s life.

Margot says nothing for some time. It is a terrible, sour nothing that lingers far too long in the air between them.

“So you think your camera shows … what? Death?”

“Maybe. Sometimes. But not always, not even often, really.”

“Then what if not that? The future? Like the calendar.”

“That’s closer, I think. Better. But at least a third of them are the past.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, the man in the living room is 1970. You can tell by the Updike book on top of the TV. That was the first edition cover, and it’s pristine. You can figure it out, sometimes. If you care about these things. If you know too much about garbage. And you know I know too much about garbage, M.”

Margot smiles faintly, but it is very faint.

“But also I went back to the park and talked to the guy. His name is Antony.” Johanna scratches at the back of her hand. “Antony left his family. In 1970. Just up and walked out on Grace, Walt, Irene, and Amelia, who he’d married when she was fucking seventeen. The proverbial running out for a pack of cigarettes. Left them like they were just … a skin he was molting.”

Margot looks for a way to shut it off, but Johanna doesn’t help her find it. Why should Margot get to turn away from it? Why should she escape?

“Fine,” she says coldly. “What is it then?”

Johanna takes a deep breath. “So whenever you transfer or transmit or store data, especially a lot of data, like audio or video or both, it gets compressed, and in the process, you lose a little bit of it. Maybe a lot, like MP3s were always straight garbage compactors for sound. Maybe only a little bit. Maybe so little you wouldn’t even notice. But in order to fit the storage device or the bandwidth, in order to save information or share it, you have to … you have to harm it. And that creates distortion. Halos. Noise. Warping. Busy regions in the image. Blocky deformations called quilting, and visual echoes called ghosts. They’re called compression artefacts, and that’s … that’s what I think these are. Distortions created by the present and everything else getting compressed, crushed into one stream. Halos and noise and warps and quilts and ghosts. A lot of words for damage. Just damage.

“But the answer is: I don’t really know what it does. Technically speaking, it’s a problem of parallax. Catastrophic parallax. A vast difference between the apparent object and the actual object. And for awhile, I thought it showed the worst day of your life. Which, odds are, for some percentage of people, is going to be the day you die. But not for everyone. Not for Antony. See, nothing ever went right for him after he left. Two more divorces and a dried-up retirement fund. Grandkids he isn’t allowed to meet. Lung cancer he picked up working a big gorgeous free man’s HVAC repair shop. But it took him almost his whole life to understand any of it. To process where he fucked up. What he lost when he thought he was barreling down the highway to a big gorgeous free man’s life. Big Edie knew it in an instant. She had his number faster than a speeding therapist, and that number was 1970. So it seemed to make enough sense. When I shot old people, Big Edie usually spat out the past. Young people mostly turned up older on playback. The future. That kid playing Madden. Madden 23, to be exact.” She points to him on the projection. The hole in his sock. The length of his hair. The name on the Patriots’ QB jersey.

“Do you actually expect me to believe your camera recorded something in 2023? Jo, come on. I’m really busy, and frankly, I’m not in the mood.”

“Just listen. Because then there was this. A wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel and Lucy Vaclavik.” She fast-forwards through scene after scene. Johanna can tell just the sheer number of them is starting to look bad on her, and the manic sizzle in her voice isn’t helping, but she can’t stop herself.

The creams and golds and pops of understated rose-shades of a high-end matrimonial spread flood the screen. The bride waves her lily-dripping bouquet in the air. The Hudson River throbs with sunset behind her. Her hair sparkles with carefully applied glitter. Eyeliner and brows that date her nuptials as surely as a library stamp. Her new husband, in a grey tux, bends down to kiss her expertly neutral-frosted lips and their unified families clap like a gentle river of approval. The picture flows smoothly to the edge of the frame. No ghostly picture-in-picture. No shadows cast from other places, other times.

Margot smiles politely. Johanna knows she is losing her (has lost her). “I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either,” she confesses softly. “I shot this no differently than the others. But what you see is what I saw. What Big Edie saw. No parallax. No difference in images. I rolled tape and the wedding marched right through the lens and back out again and it was just a wedding, no more or less. Nothing else has been like that. And the next day we got right back to business-as-horrible. I couldn’t figure it out. Why was it special? What was different? The thing is … he killed her. It made the news for about thirty seconds in April. They found her in the woods in Connecticut. But, you know, hedge fund guys aren’t that good at forensics, even if they’re 100% current on all CSI franchises, so they caught him pretty fast. So maybe … maybe Big Edie doesn’t record the worst thing that ever happened to you. Maybe it’s something so much smaller than that. The moment when the worst thing that ever happens to you sees you coming. Turns toward you in the dark. I think, once she married him, he was always going to hurt her. Because that was in him, an egg or a seed or a tumor, whatever you want to call it, a future that no longer has the option of not happening. The flowchart flows until you meet that person at that conference and then there’s no more choose your own adventure, you’re going to fall in love and they’re going to bankrupt you or betray you or just … disappoint you until there’s nothing left but cynicism swirling around at the bottom of your heart like tea leaves. Or leave you in the woods in Connecticut. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a huge ugly regret machine. And mostly I will never understand these. What happened to the Madden kid or the girl in the bar or why getting stuck in traffic on that particular day was so important to that man’s whole trajectory, or any of them, because that stuff doesn’t come across the AP like Mrs. Vaclavik. They’re just moments, unconnected, pulled free of every other moment.”

The wedding fades out and the two women wince together as a man they do not know pushes a woman they have never met against a wall. Blood trickles down her temple where she hit a picture frame and she looks up at him with unbelieving eyes.

“Enough,” Margot says. She grabs the remote. Shuts it all down. Turns to Johanna and touches her face. Touches her. No one has touched Johanna in a year. It is an alien burn. It is Margot. It is the past and the future and death, stroking her hair and making enormous eyes at her while the constituent atoms of their dog look on from the coffee table.

“I miss you so much,” Johanna whispers, and wishes she could have thought of something better, more elegant, more memorable, but her need banishes pretty words.

“Don’t,” Margot answers with finality. The finality of Providence, Rhode Island and heirloom squash varietals and Harrington Preparatory School and June-Bug and poor Mapplethorpe in a box.

“What do you think?” She cannot help that either, the need for her approval, her regard, the perfect full absent moon of her gaze on Johanna’s work, Johanna’s self.

“Honey … I think you need help. This is … this is nothing, J. It’s a bunch of slice of life shots of nothing in particular and three or four gory jump-scares. You taped over some movie of the week with a lot of nonsense. And I’m supposed to believe it’s what, magic? It’s you stalking strangers. Listen to yourself. Catastrophic parallax? You’re manic, you need care.”

But Johanna can’t hear that. “Okay, but that’s just exactly what I mean. Do you know what catastrophe means? It’s Greek. It just means a turn. A turn down or a turn under or a turn inside. A turn away.”

“Jo, this is basically a conspiracy theorist wall and you’re unspooling more red yarn. This is not an X-File. This is you not coping. As usual.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ll show you. Just stand over there, I’ll shoot you for a few minutes, a few seconds, and you’ll see.” And what will Big Edie see? Margot leaving that hot, humid, unretrievable night, Margot packing up boxes for Providence, Margot right now, right here, telling Johanna she will never believe her? One of them, maybe, surely. What else was even possible?

“No,” Margot whispers firmly. “You don’t need me. And you definitely don’t need to ride that camera any harder. I’m not going to enable this. You just need help, baby. Professional help. That’s all. I have to go.”

“Wait—”

“I have to go.”

There is a disentangling, a hurry to go back, edit, remove even the idea that physical contact was made. Margot excuses herself to splash water on her face and Johanna sees herself in the mute black monitor, sees as the ex-moon of her night sees: a woman so thin her clothes don’t fit, who smells sour, whose hair hangs limp and unwashed, whose face has grown lines it didn’t have even a few weeks ago, degradation lines, juddering through the frame of her face.

Margot emerges awkwardly, chagrined, her familiar elfin face not one cell altered from the day she left, her voice echoing against every surface: I’m so fucking lonely, Jo, I’m lonely even when you’re here. Especially when you’re here. I’m lonely right the fuck now and I’m looking at you.

She holds up something in her hand. Something purple. Something precious.

“Forgot my brush,” she says softly.

And then she is gone.

Ghosts

Johanna puts it off for a long time.

Why bother? What use could it possibly be to her? What use is any of this? You couldn’t do one single thing with it. The shot was too tight to predict the future. Fight crime? Protect the innocent? No. The camera crowded the subject, an unbearable idiot intimacy that took away everything but the seeing itself.

But eventually, she was always going to do it.

Johanna watches herself on the flatscreen. Watches herself get up in Big Edie’s face. Fix the focus, back up to sit on the same barstool that held Anika all those ages ago, shifting awkwardly as she looks into the lens like an actor breaking the fourth wall.

She knows what she will see. She is calmly certain of it. She shouldn’t have bothered running the tape back for this little screening. She saw it the first time, when she was seven. When she was thirsty in the middle of the night and padded quietly out of her room to get a glass of water. Out of her room and past her father sitting alone in his armchair, the moonlight crawling in after him through the window, grasping at him just before he shot himself and her life … turned. There never was any hope for her. She was turned before she got one foot in the world. It wouldn’t be a prettier shot now.

The compression artefact burns out from the center of her nuclear-powered selfie. Her stomach muscles seize up the way they do when she just barely reaches the tipping point of a roller coaster and enters freefall, down the rails into her old house, the rugs, the stain on the ceiling, the off-kilter hang of her bedroom door. Her father’s face. Her mother’s soft snoring from the bedroom.

But that’s not what she sees.

No moonlight. No armchair. No 3 a.m. drink of water in a seven-year-old girl’s hand. It is just Johanna, seafoam green hair and all, walking on the lovely light and dark stripes of green on a lawn in Ossining, in sunlight direct from a photography lab, approaching a quilt made of old T-shirts and the objects it carries. She bends down and presses her warm thumb into the patch of Hypercolor shirt, waiting for the fabric to change color, to unsuffer the damage of too-constant exposure to the very thing that it was designed to react with, which of course it will not, can not, ever again.

Johanna touches her own face on the television, that seafoam green girl who still had Margot and Mapplethorpe and opinons about everything, that familiar face, yet better-fed and better-loved and almost obscenely untroubled. An ancient version of herself, suddenly unearthed at the bottom of the sea.

Finite State Machine

Johanna puts Big Edie up on Craigslist, all her specs laid out like a personal ad: enjoys long walks on the beach, getting lost in the rain, composite video output, and turning everything you point me at into an avant-garde film-school short. If you can’t handle me being haunted, you don’t deserve me being way more work than the camera app on your phone.

She lowballs the price. She means it. She can change her artefact. She can let it all go, like Margot said. Get care. Be normal. Cope. She can take that moment in Ossining and make it nothing. Make it just another random memory on a compilation tape of the decades fading in and out, like the little tinseled cloud boy turning and turning on his forgotten school stage, meaningless, untethered, beautiful and sad and without connection to anything before or after.

And then anyone could. The boy who doesn’t want to mow the lawn. The girl meeting that man at the bistro. Lucy Vaclavik. Antony. Jeff. Anika. Anyone. The long white beam of the Argo’s exterior lighting array sweeping through that dark and missing the great hulking skeleton in the blackness, brushing gently by, just barely, just by inches, finding nothing but open water.

She doesn’t answer a single query.

Six months later, Johanna doesn’t even remember what it’s like to leave the house without Big Edie. The pockets of her original-issue carrying case bulge with new tapes.

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’  Prologue: It’s Corona Time

Marvel Highschool!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 2,110 words

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fanfic, and I’m honest to God absolutely terrified. I hope you like it, because I’ve been wanting to write since the beginning of quarantine. If you like it, like or repost, and I’m so, so, grateful. Stay home and stay safe y’all!

“Buck, can you pass me the vitamin water?” The boy was stuck in his reverie, looking at the girl next to him with unfocused eyes. Bucky had a tendency to daydream during class about different things, however most of them came back to one person. “Bucky!” The girl, frustrated with him, quickly whacked him in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell Y/N?” Bucky rubbed his bicep where she had so rudely whacked him. The girl chuckled briefly and gave him a warm smile. “What are we doing right now,” he asked, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Yeah, I could tell. Can you pass me the vitamin water? I’m thirsty and hungry, and we still have forty minutes of class.” Bucky rolled his eyes at his close friend and slid her the orange bottle across their shared desk. She screwed off the cap and chugged down half the bottle, while Bucky grimaced then snatched the bottle out of her hands. 

“Jesus Y/N, share with me too, I’m the one who bought it.” The girl just shot another heart-warming smile at him again, making his heart flutter. 

“But I’m the one who snuck you into my room when you couldn’t get back into your own house. I told you that going to creek with Steve at midnight was a fucking dumb idea.” She lightly snorted, and looked back up to the board, where physics problems were scrawled out in blue marker. Bucky thought back to that night two weeks ago. 

He had sat with you, Steve Nat, Wanda, and Sam at lunch, talking about the rumors of the COVID-19 breakout. They had overheard from some of the juniors that the school would be shut down, for only one day, but possibly more. Though it had only been barely a rumor, Bucky and Steve had to take extreme measures in case they wouldn’t be able to see each other for the next few weeks. They were going to go down to the creek behind the townhouses at night, and hang out. Y/N and Sam had immediately laughed at their two dumbass friends, and Nat and Wanda had barely cared. 

     Upset with their friends for being unsupportive, the Barnes and Nobles duo, as the gang liked to call them, decided to go through with their creek plan. They had snuck out at eleven thirty, well after Steve’s ma and Bucky’s parents thought they were in bed, and met outside Steve’s house. They had brought bags of chips, and Bucky had even managed to sneak two cans of beer from his dad’s stash. They stayed there until three in the morning, just talking about high school, and how they were so excited to be sophomores the next year and haze the new freshman. Then the topic of discussion had come to Bucky’s large crush on Y/N, that wasn’t too subtle. 

     “Buck, are you really going to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like Y/N?” Steve asked his friend exasperatedly. Bucky rose his gaze from the gurgling water to Steve’s eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out and he blushed. “That’s what I thought, you idiot.” 

     So Bucky may have had a crush on one of his oldest friends. He had been enamored with her the moment he met her in the third grade with Natasha, until he met a pretty girl named Dot in the seventh grade and dated her until the end of eighth grade. Throughout that period of time, Y/N and Bucky’s friendship was distant and strained, but thankfully they reconnected with the crew over the summer going into highschool. He hadn’t seen her much during June, but when she came back from her acting camp up north, she had grown taller and tanner, with curves that he hadn’t noticed before. All his elementary feelings had hit him like a truck again, and he followed Y/N around like a lost puppy again, which Steve took note of and enjoyed teasing him about. By the end of the night with Steve, he had emptied out his soul to his best friend, making him promise to not tell a single soul. Steve agreed, but not before saying, “You’re screwed, punk.” 

     The boys had started walking back to their street, and when they looked at the time, they saw that it was 3:30, and they needed to get back. They sprinted to their houses, and scrambled back up the pipes on their houses. Steve got in safely, and poked his head out the window to make sure Bucky got in his own house as well. However, the sight he was met with made him laugh instead. Bucky had a panicked look on his face, and a look of realization came over him as he realized that the window was locked from the inside when he closed it earlier when leaving. 

     “Steve,” he whisper-yelled to his best friend, “can I come over for the night?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, hurry up!” Bucky scrambled back down to pipes and ran over to the side of Steve’s house, but as soon as he started climbing, Steve exclaimed, “Crap, crap, crap, my ma’s coming up the stairs, I gotta go Buck. I’m sorry!” His window shut quietly, and Bucky groaned. He pulled out his phone, and checked with the one person he both wanted and didn't want to see. 

     His finger hovered over her contact, her and Bucky’s faces grinning with peace signs held towards the camera. He pressed her number, and her gentle voice picked up. “Hey Buck, what’s up? I thought you were out with Steve.”

     “Yeah, about that…” He told Y/N the whole story of how his window was locked and Steve’s ma coming to his room. Her giggle through the phone was melodic, and he smiled just hearing it. “You are the only person I know who stays up at these unholy hours, reading Sebastian Stan fanfictio-”

     “Hey, you promised we wouldn’t talk about it!” She hurriedly cut him off. He chuckled quietly, and resumed talking.

     “Chill out, doll, no one can hear me. So, can I come over? Just for the night? I can provide cuddles and other services as well.” He jokingly said, wiggling his eyebrows though he knew she couldn’t see him. 

     “Yes, you can spend the night, you dumbass. But you gotta be quiet as shit, because if my parents find you with me in my bed, they’re gonna get the wrong idea.” His face heated up at the mention of that, but nonetheless, he still ran over to her house, a few blocks away. 

The rest of the night had been filled with quiet laughter, cuddling, and finally passing out at around 4:30 am in each other’s arms. 

Finally snapping out of his reverie, he just nodded dumbly until their physics teacher stood up. “As you all have probably heard at this point, the rumors about our school shutting down due to the coronavirus breakout are true.” Murmurs and laughs were audible around the classroom, and Y/N turned towards Bucky with a huge smile. Mr. Fury, clearly frustrated with the class, gets their attention again. “Hey, hey! I’m not done yet. Next week we will be testing online classes on the app Zoom. We are going to see how it goes, and though we hope that we will be able to return to school, the likelihood is that we will not be returning for the rest of the school year.”

Mr. Fury continued telling the class about Zoom, and instructed the students on how to use the app. Y/N was absolutely elated. For the rest of the year, she didn’t have to sit in hardass chairs at desks, but rather stay in the comfort of her home. It was part of her introverted nature she assumed, but as she saw the frown on Bucky’s face, she began to sport one as well. 

“Hey Buckaroo, what’s the pouting about,” Y/N inquiried. He sighed heavily and looked at her. “James, is everything okay?” To be honest, he was absolutely infuriated and scared of the virus, because it had now taken away his only safe place outside his house. Y/N knew about his family problems, the whole gang did, and they all did their best to support him in any way he needed, whether it was staying over or a homemade meal, but they were always there to help their friend. 

Bucky’s breathing got harsher, so Y/N grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it. He glanced up, his eyes full of gratefulness and adoration. They both turned back to face Mr. Fury. “Tonight, there’ll be emails sent out to you, and your parents. Okay, pack up and leave, I don’t wanna see your faces for longer than I get paid for.” Y/N and Bucky gathered their things, and hustled out of the classroom.

“Hey Buck, hey Y/N,” Steve yelled from across the yard, “Where are you going next?” Y/N saw her blond friend and pulled him into a hug. Where she couldn’t see, Steve shrugged and Bucky glared at him. She released her friend from the hug. 

“Buck and I just have a free period next, we’re heading down to the library now though. Wanna come?” She asked. Steve nodded, and the trio walked to the library on the other side of campus. “It’s gonna be so weird when we have classes from home. I actually have to clean up my room, and see people from class. It’s a travesty.” She dramatically draped her forearm over her face, feigning sadness. What a fucking theatre kid, Bucky thinks. He just rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“C’mon, there are tons of things worse than just cleaning up your room. I’m gonna be stuck with my fucking family for a week, and maybe til the end of the year.” Bucky dropped his head at his words, and the three students stopped walking. Y/N pulled him in for a hug, running her hands up and down his back in a soothing manner. She knew he was on the verge of having a panic attack, and she hated it. She hated his father for making him feel worthless, she hated the psychopath who killed his mother, and she hated the fact that he has to take care of his baby sister all by himself, because only God knows where was father is at night. Bucky felt tears prick at his eyes, but he strongly inhaled and let it go. He secretly breathed in the scent of Y/N’s hair, the faint scent of her pineapple perfume calming him. She slowly released him from the hug, and he whispered, “Thank you.” With a small smile and nod of her head, they continued walking down to the library. 

Steve and Bucky made small talk about the online workouts for their baseball team, but Y/N was deep in her own thoughts. She hated the thought of Bucky staying with his dad for the duration of quarantine. Hell, she hated the thought of his dad in general. Y/N had known Bucky since the third grade, but he had only opened up to her about their family issues in seventh grade. However, she wanted to be there for him, because, well, she loved him. So, so, much. 

Before they entered the library, she stopped walking and said, “You guys go on in, I’ll catch up with you.” Both the boys looked at each other, confused.

“Where are you going, doll?” Bucky asked. She tried her best to hide the blush rising at her cheeks, but Bucky saw it and smirked. She rolled her eyes and started walking away.

“I gotta make a quick phone call,” she yelled, “I’ll be back faster than you can say cartesian diver!”

“What?” Steve yelled, confused by everything. He hadn’t had the project yet, but he would learn soon enough.

“I don’t know, it was the first thing that came to mind!” And with that, the excited girl made her way to the office to call her parents. Bucky chuckled at Y/N, though his heart was nearly bursting out of his chest with how adorably strange she was. His eyes stared at her retreating form for a while, until he turned around to meet Steve’s smirk. 

“Shut it punk, I don’t wanna hear it.” His cheeks were burning red and his oldest friend just laughed.

“Jesus, you’re absolutely smitten,” Steve said, slinging his arm around Bucky as they walked into the library.

[anoceaninthesun]

Needs Improvement

Thanks largely to a brilliant suggestion by @shineejeya the Home Improvement AU continues with this ficlet (mini-series ??). This time the renovating teams tackle their toughest assignment yet. If only it was all about the house and not the feisty, beautiful client.

Summary: When Yamanaka Ino meddles in her best friend’s love life quest to DIY renovate her new fixer-upper, Haruno Sakura finds herself caught up in a home improvement competition between four handsome, creative questionably qualified renovators.  

(Home Improvement AU, Modern AU, Slice-of-Life AU)

Pairings: FoundersxSaku (IzuSaku, TobiSaku, MadaSaku, HashiSaku), ShikaIno, other background pairs

Rating: T

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, General

Warnings: none really—except maybe swearing, atrocious flirting skills and the Founders being renovating crackheads (not literally, but almost)

Pt. 1, Pt.2 

Sakura had her doubts about Ino’s intentions from the moment she showed up dressed so...expensively. The season’s latest denim cut off jacket, glittering top, a perfectly pleated skirt she’d seen in an upscale boutique they went to together, and boots easily worth someone’s paycheck. Granted, her friend had been a fashionista and trendsetter since they were kids.

 But, when Ino called the night before claiming it had been too long since they’d hung out and she wanted to do a quiet, girl’s-day-in, she’d agreed. So maybe the pinkette had brought whatever was coming onto herself. She hadn’t thought much of it when the blonde said she’d swing by.

 It wasn’t really done, boxes barely unpacked and some rooms still without fresh coats of paint, but it was slowly coming along. Buying her first home at only twenty-two was a big deal, all the years of frugal spending and careful saving, of building credit and working hard culminating in such a huge achievement. 

She was so proud of herself, and determined to turn the house into the home of her dreams, one weekend at a time. “Do you want a soda or water?” she called from the kitchen. 

She could see Ino on her couch with her thumbs flying over her phone screen, not paying any attention to the movie playing. “Smoothie.” she responded, absently. 

“That’s not even one of the choices I just offered!” Sakura huffed. 

“Don’t be an ungracious hostess, Sakura.” Ino laughed.

The doorbell chimed, and Sakura went to the fridge and fished out two bottles of water. She raised a suspicious brow when Ino ran to get it before she could so much as ask. Sakura knew she wasn’t expecting anyone else over, but her friends sometimes popped up when they knew she was free (which was sadly less than ever as of late). 

Taking the water and setting the two bottles down on the coffee table, Sakura wandered into the mudroom, peering out the window. She took a startled step back, blinking at the cars parked in her driveway and on the other side of the street. Was that...a camera crew? “What the hell?” she whispered. “Ino!” She stomped to the front door, only to find her friend bouncing around, happy sounds leaving her mouth as four incredibly attractive men stepped into her home. And yes, a flood of people with cameras coming in too. 

“Hi!” Ino waved with both hands. “Thank you so much for choosing this house! I can’t believe you’re here,” she tucked a loose lock of hair behind one ear and then moved forward to shake the first man’s hand. 

Sakura caught herself doing a double take. He looked so much like her childhood friend Sasuke it wasn’t even funny. More like Sasuke than his own older brother did, and she had always thought that their resemblance was pretty strong.

 The only real noticeable differences she could spot was his longer hair (hair which stuck up messily the same way Sasuke’s tended to) hanging down his back when he turned.

 His lips also looked fuller, and she and Naruto had always reluctantly agreed Sasuke had lips to die for. Their eyes met from over Ino’s shoulder and Sakura felt her heart seize up for half a beat, averting her eyes. He smiled politely, stepping back from Ino so she could continue conversing with the strange group of people. 

“So this is the house?” A white-haired man rumbled, his sharp, red eyes drinking in every detail. His unyielding facial expression made it hard to determine whatever thoughts were running to his head. Until his head bobbed once, evidently satisfied. “It’s got good bones.” 

Good bones. Sakura had thought the same thing when she’d seen it, and that’s what had prompted her to put a considerable amount of her savings into buying it. That, and maybe a tiny splash of idealism. The location, the rooms, the cute (if not somewhat overgrown) backyard...

“You’re Yamanaka Ino, right? The friend who wrote in?” The next man who spoke brought her right out of her idyllic visions. He was huge, with a beautifully bronzed skin tone, a voice that exuded warmth, and a flannel shirt stretched over a broad chest. He shook Ino’s hand, her whole arm bouncing with his strength, “Is the home owner around?” 

“Sure is! She’s right,” Ino half turned and her eyes immediately found Sakura, who had been frozen there the entire time. “Right there!”

Just like that, any illusion of invisibility she had was ripped away, and Sakura stood exposed. The cameras were zooming in, taking in her wide eyes, ghostly pallor and everyday clothes. 

“Haruno Sakura?” The man approaching her had a voice that felt like it punched the wind from her lungs, knocking her sideways. He shifted some of his long hair aside and smirked slightly, catching her reaction. She took the hand he offered and shook it, because she wasn’t really sure what else she could do. “I assume you know why we’re here?”

“Bad assumption,” she croaked. “This wasn’t what...I don’t know why...have I seen you somewhere before?” 

The role reversal was abrupt. His cocky grin melted into a thin line as his brow arched and he retracted his hand. “You...You haven’t seen the show?”

“No.” Sakura responded, almost challengingly.

The Sasuke-Look-Alike approached with a softer expression, but it did nothing for her nerves. He was just as overwhelming up close as the man she shook hands with.

“We were contacted to renovate a home, your home. As part of a new episode of our show, From House to Home. I’m Uchiha Izuna, and that’s my charming brother—”

“Madara.” Madara introduced himself with pride, as if he had the title of royalty attached to his name. They really were Sasuke’s relatives! Ones she’d never met, and she thought she had met a good deal of his extended family.

Apparently not wanting to be left out, the man with the large presence and abundance of energy came over, his eyes merry even before the genuine grin pulled his mouth up. “I’m Senju Hashirama, and I’m excited to work with you. We’ll get your dream home complete in no time.” Tugging the solemn man to his side and placing an arm around his shoulders, he waited.

“Senju Tobirama.” he said, his tone no more ‘excited’ than his face.

Sakura blinked once, wondering why a brain that could memorize the names for all the bones in a human body with ease had so much difficulty processing this. “Nice to meet you all.” she said slowly. Her eyes darted back to the camera crew still filming. She worried her face was going to look clammy on film. Would they edit out the awkward parts at least?

“So, Ino-san’s told us a little bit, but it’d be great if we could go over what you’re looking for.” Izuna urged.

Figuring it was too late to turn back (although she owed Ino one hell of a scolding for blindsiding her), Sakura nodded. “I’ll show you around.”

______________________________________________________________

Ino flitted around like a dragonfly that couldn’t decide where to land. Sakura did her best not to break into a sweat over the pack of handsome men following her around from room to room. She had plenty of male friends.

Attractive male friends, even. But there was a hot flame at the back of her neck from the gazes tracking her that just wasn’t there when she was around her boys. The crush she’d once had on Sasuke for that awkward period when they were younger, notwithstanding.

“A more open kitchen?” Hashirama repeated. He pulled out a tablet and began fumbling with it, biting his lip briefly. Sighing loudly, Tobirama yanked it from his hand, pointedly turning it so it was no longer upside down, and began tapping.

Sakura smiled slightly. Though they were apparently something like celebrities in the world of home improvement, they gave off a very difference impression in real life. On the other hand, exactly how competent were these men?

“It’d be nice if she could have a bigger island bar. You know, for get togethers with our friends.” Ino put in, standing at one corner of the room.

For all the helpful advice she had, the renovators probably thought Ino lived with her.

“We’ve definitely done some very fun island bars before.” The older Senju said. “Remember the project with the tropical fish tank built in?” He nudged at his brother, who grimaced.

“Your ideas are somehow always even bigger than the clients.” Tobirama grumbled.

Madara wondered over to her humble stove area, examining it. Then her second-hand fridge and microwave. “These appliances are outdated. Anything new we put in would clash.” Sakura took offense to his disdainful expression. It wasn’t easy to afford a house on her budget and spring for brand new kitchenware and appliances.

“It works fine.” Sakura explained, teeth grinding. Who did this man, who probably drove around in a car the same price as the down payment on her house, think he was? To demonstrate, she brushed by his taller frame and turned on one of the eyelets of the stove. A flame sputtered to life. “Plus,” she added, putting on her syrupiest voice, “I know seasoned renovators like yourselves can work around any minor inconveniences the house has.” Madara stared at it, then her, saying nothing else.

Sakura happened to catch the shrewd carmine eyes of Tobirama, noticing how they were lit with mild amusement.

“Without a doubt!” Hashirama agreed, “So Madara, you’ll take responsibility for the kitchen area?”

Crossing his arms, the older Uchiha made a noise reminiscent of reluctant agreeance. Sakura had been friends with Sasuke for a long enough period to decode most vague noises and gestures in an Uchiha’s standard repertoire.

That was without a doubt, “challenge accepted.” ______________________________________________________________

So far, the job ahead didn’t make him feel as miserable as Tobirama had been expecting. Despite the strange newness of the situation, Haruno Sakura didn’t seem like an unreasonable client. They were currently surveying her unfenced backyard, no one more eager to talk about plans for it than Hashirama. “The great thing about how unstructured this space is right now, is that you could do almost anything with it and not worry about taking anything out first. A fence is a definite, but how do you feel about a greenstone garden?”

Sakura contemplated, a slow smile curling her lips as her best friend barely contained a squeal. “Well, I did say whenever I got my own place I’d try my hand at something like that.” 

Happy that she was on board, she and Hashirama began to talk shop, with Ino interjecting, apparently a gardening fanatic herself. Tobirama let them chat, busy watching Madara scope out the yard, presumably to see how he’d implement his own project. When he wasn’t doing that, he was boring holes into the side of the client’s head. She had to feel it. 

It was starting to agitate him a little, and he wasn’t even the focus of the man’s gaze. Ever since the little display of sass in the kitchen – something Tobirama thoroughly appreciated since quite a few clients were too busy fawning to put Madara in his place–it was hard to tell if the older of the Uchiha brothers wanted to one up them or impress Sakura. More than likely both.

“I don’t think I’d want to splurge on anything like a pool,” Sakura was shaking her head. “But it’d be nice to have something entertaining...”

“A firepit.” Izuna said instantly. “We can do one right off the patio if you want.” He took out his own tablet and showed her a three dimensional construct of what it would look like. 

Sakura leaned in, her face approving. “Oh!” Without even seeming to realize it, she gently tugged it from his hands and tapped. “Are these the different designs? I really like this one.” 

The camera shifted to show what her choice had been. Though Tobirama found the Uchiha’s penchant for firepits entirely unoriginal from a design perspective, the one Sakura liked would unfortunately be very nice surrounded by Hashirama’s horticultural touches.

 Izuna was certainly proud of himself for suggesting it, much less openly smug than his brother. But...too pleased nonetheless. In fact, he had been stealing interested looks at Sakura nearly as often as Madara. 

As they moved back into the house, Hashirama and the women in front, the younger Senju traded a very loaded look with the dark-haired brothers.That probably wasn’t going to make the final cut. The show liked to capitalize on a “friendly” if not overly-competitive rivalry, but the venomous sneers they gifted each other were far past it. 

They were all supposed to be alright with a collaboration for the sake of Sakura’s dream reno. He just had the niggling suspicion that wasn’t the only thing on their minds. Deny all they wanted, the Uchiha Team tended to shine best when the client was young, female and single. Sakura was at least two out of three things thus far. 

At the very least, she wasn’t acting besotted. That was a welcome change. She also seemed financially conscious, which was something else Tobirama appreciated after so long doing budgeting on these projects. A lot of clients didn’t truly understand how that portion of project management worked.

 Though, with how surprised she was by the whole affair, he wondered if she even knew an anonymous source had put up a very generous amount to cover the renovation.

 Sakura could have two identical houses and triple the square footage if she really wanted it. And it wasn’t beneath Madara to use that knowledge and some sex appeal to coerce someone in the pinkette’s position to let him take control of a project like this one.   

Tobirama wasn’t about to let the opposing team break ahead. The time would come shortly for him to speak with Sakura, and when they had that meeting of the minds, he would convince her that an economical reno was the way to go.  

______________________________________________________________

It took a lot longer than anticipated but here’s part two. The beginning of the SakuraxFounders interactions! I usually do slow burn, but at the same time this isn’t going to be super long, so romance may happen quicker than usual. I think this is looking more and more like it may become a mini-series (a handful of these little chapters probably), which I have never done on tumblr. Fingers crossed I figure it out. If you’re looking for more FounderxSakura fun from me, and there’s a chance you haven’t seen my oversaturated advertisement for it, you can check out: A Stitch in Time.

[dumbkiri]

Buried Secrets Two

Parts: [ 1, Here, 3 ]

Summary: [Name], knowing she and John are in danger, runs to the babysitter’s house to get John back to safety. She also gives the nice babysitter money to go out of the country. Then [Name] is in a stolen car wondering where and who to go for help. She reluctantly goes to the Titans. Although plans don’t go as planned. Dick tells the truth to the Titans and they figure out a plan to stop Deathstroke once and for all. Deathstroke has unfortunate news for [Name]. 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female! Reader

Genre: Slight Angst

Word Count: 3k

WARNINGS: Blood

“Wait, Ms. [L.Name], why are you suddenly leaving? Also you’re bleeding,” Samantha, John’s babysitter, had ran behind [Name]. The young teen was not understanding why she was given two grand for only taking care of John for a night. 

[Name] held John closer to her body and noticed that he was going to cry soon. She set John down in a carrier then grabbed Samantha by her shoulders, “Look, sweetie, use the money to finally go to South Korea. Didn’t you say you always wanted to go there?”

“Y-yeah, but I can’t leave without notifying my parents. I’m just a sophomore in high school,” Samantha gave [Name] a weird look. 

[Name] cursed under her breath and grabbed four grand from a duffel bag, “Here use this to bring your parents with you. Just get out of town, no, the country.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Samantha didn’t know when to stop asking questions and it was annoying the older female to no end. [Name] zipped up the duffel bag and grabbed the handle of John’s carrier. She walked over to the front door and zoomed over to her car that she stole. She opened the backseat car door and strapped John into a car seat. 

John began crying now and [Name] closed the door after she stuffed her bags next to John. “Listen carefully, Samantha. Bad people are after me and they might use you to find me which is why you need to leave. Because they’ll only bring harm to you and your family for no reason.”

Samantha’s blue eyes widened, “Bad people like murderers?”

“Worst. Now call your parents and I’ll tell them what to do.”

…… 

[Name] looked at her phone and typed the address to the Titan’s Tower. Her fingers froze and she let her thumb hover over the start button. Deathstroke said that Dick brought the Titans back together. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe him. Deathstroke isn’t known to be a liar, manipulative, yes. If Dick really did bring the Titans back even their old friends, why didn’t he contact her?

“Ma...ma,” John whined in the back seat, his little feet kicking the air, 

[Name] should feel grateful that Dick didn’t call her. It would be awkward to see him. It would be awkward to see them all and John, what would they think? Did Dick tell them about John? Her [e.color] eyes looked at the rearview mirror. She watched as John babbled in his spot. Drool dripping down his chin. 

She worried for her son. [Name] promised herself she wouldn’t go back to being a hero. That was in the past and it was going to stay there because she didn’t want her son getting hurt or worse. He was too young to die. He’s just a baby. 

“Starting route to Titan’s Tower,” 

This was her only chance to keep him safe. They were her family once and John could be a part of it. 

……

“Dick, come on, man, wake up” 

“What happened to the three of them?”

“Do you think they all just passed out here like idiots cause I do.”

“Hank, no.”

Dick groaned and opened his eyes to see Rachel and Gar waking up as well. His brown eyes observing the two teens that laid on each other. 

“Ugh, what happened?” Gar asked rubbing his head with his eyes adjusting to the bright light from Jason’s phone. 

“They seem fine. Maybe they had a sleepover without us” Jason said and Hank chuckled at his remark. Jason turned his phone light off and backed away to give the trio space.

 Rachel removed herself off of Gar’s body with a slight blush apparent. She sat on her knees and rubbed her hands on her thighs. [Name] was on her way. “Did you guys see what I saw?” Rachel asked the two males who were affected by her power. 

Gar nodded his head, “Yeah it was strange. It was like I was next to her when she was fighting Deathstroke and Dr. Light. It was so weird, I couldn’t do anything for her.” 

“Shit,” Dick cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet. He needed to go to the computer. He needed to see how far she was away from the tower. Dick ran out of the kitchen with everyone following him with questioning gazes. 

Donna was the first to reach him, “Whoa, Dick, slow down. Wanna tell us what’s going on?” The Wonder Girl looking at her friends for some help to get Dick to spill. They stayed quiet and watched him type on the keyboard. His fingers going at a crazy rate. 

“Searching for [Name] [L.Name]...” 

Hank stepped up to Dick with his hand placed on his head, “Hold up, why are you looking for [Name]? Is everything okay with her?”

“No,” Rachel spoke up, “My power, it allowed me to see that she was in danger. She was fighting Deathstroke and Dr. Light all by herself.”

“She blew her own home up, it was crazy and she has telekinesis!” Gar exclaimed pulling at his hair. He never saw such a powerful person with a cool ability. Dick tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the computer to give him results and it was painfully slow. His family was in danger. Can he call them his family? He hasn’t seen them in three years. Every time he wanted to contact [Name], he got cold feet. 

“Dick, you got to tell us what is going on,” Dawn set her hand onto his shoulder. He looked behind him and they were all staring at him. Their eyes boring into him to tell them the truth. He took a deep breath in and pushed away from the computer. 

“I haven’t been honest with you guys,” Dick crossed his arms over his chest, “the only ones that know this secret is Bruce and Alfred. Even if I told you a long time ago what had happened between [Name] and I, I don’t think it’s your business in the first place.”

Hank glared at him, “Now it is.”

“Yes,” Dick nodded his head, “Because they’re in danger.”

Dawn tilted her head in confusion and Donna spoke up, “They’re? Someone else is with [Name]?” The two women had no idea what was going on and neither did the rest. Dick was being hesitant and he took a long time to explain what was going on. He bit his lip and chewed on it. Rachel and Gar looked at each other wondering if they should help Dick with telling the truth. 

“It’s not easy to say this,” Dick admitted with his head low in defeat. He had to tell them anyways because [Name] was going to show up to Titan’s Tower eventually. “[Name] and I...we have a son. He’s two years old and-”

“No fucking way,” An unexpected voice cut through and it was Rose Wilson, Deathstroke’s daughter. “You had a secret child and you didn’t bother to tell your teammates. What other secrets are you keeping?”

“None,” Dick said with a sharp tone. 

Dawn removed her hand off of Dick’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell us? We’re your friends.”

“It’s because it was none of our business,” Hank bellowed, “obviously we weren't good enough friends for him to confide in us.” Dawn looked over her shoulder at Hank. Their eyes connected. 

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. 

It was the front entrance. Someone was there and it was definitely [Name]. It had to be. Although when the camera footage popped up on the computer screen, no one was visible. Suddenly, they all heard the elevator dinging. Dick was the first one to investigate. They all waited in the main room to see the elevator doors opening. 

What they saw made their hearts churn especially Dick’s. His eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the middle of the elevator was a bassinet with a crying baby in it and a woman bloodied and beaten holding tightly onto the bassinet. Dick reacted quicker than the others and immediately ran inside the elevator. His hands flying to the woman’s face. 

Her nose was bleeding and her eyes were barely open. It was like she was trying to stay awake, but her body was forcing herself to sleep. Her breaths were shallow and her hands gripped tightly around the bassinet. She opened her mouth, blood coating her teeth, “Take care of him, okay?” Her head felt lighter in his hands and he understood. 

“[Name],” Dick called softly tears brimming, “you’re not here, are you?” 

She gave him a smile and her body disappeared right in front of him in red waves. The old titans rushed into the elevator and looked down at Dick kneeling in a fetal position. Then he looked up from the spot where [Name] had once laid in. Letting his anger out, Dick punched the elevator wall in front of him, “Goddammit!” 

“W-wait, I don’t understand,“ Gar spoke up trying to see in the elevator, “[Name] was just here. What happened to her body?” The green haired thought of the worst. He thought she had died. Donna looked at the teens and pushed them away from the elevator telling them that the adults would handle this. 

Dawn knelt down beside Dick, “Come on, Dick. We’re going to find her, but right now your son needs you.” Dick wiped his tears away and picked up the bassinet with shaky hands. Hank stopped Dick from exiting the elevator, “I can hold him...if you want.” 

Dick shook his head, “Thank you, but I got him.” For the first time in a long time, Dick was with his son again. Yet he wished the circumstances were better.

……

“Alright an hour later, John is finally sleeping,” Dawn and Donna walked back into the main room where everybody sat in or around the kitchen. Dick gave them a grateful nod and focused his attention back on the wall. 

“So is anyone going to explain what happened to [Name],” Gar asked very curious why the woman disappeared in the elevator. 

Jason tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “It’s because of her ability.” 

The old titans gave him questioning glares. 

“What? Bruce had me study potential allies and [Name] was one of them. According to what she knows, she has the ability to warp reality and teleport. Well that’s not all she can do, but it’s what she used in this situation. My guess is she used teleportation and put little John in the elevator before Deathstroke could get to him.”

“So her body was just her warping reality?” Rachel asked. 

Rose shrugged her shoulders, “If she could teleport, why didn’t she do the same for herself?”

“Because she hasn’t used her powers in a long time ever since John was born. She didn’t want to risk him getting injured.” Dick answered. His brown eyes were directed to the floor in thought. [Name] was in danger and in the hands of Deathstroke. His second worst enemy. 

Rachel slid off the kitchen counter, "Well, aren't we going to save her? Isn't that what the Titans do?" 

Dick looked at Rachel and shook his head. He wasn't going to allow his new recruits, his friends, get involved with Deathstroke. He won't allow another young soul die at his hands. "No, you guys will stay here and keep watch on John." 

"Great," Jason groaned, "you're putting us on babysitting duty while you guys fight a known villain. He's your son, how about you spend time with him for once?"

Dick growled, "Don't go there." 

"Or what?" Jason challenged stepping up to Dick. The teen with black hair was beginning to push Dick's buttons. And they weren't supposed to be bothered with. "I say you sit this one out, Dick. Let us handle the bad guys for once." 

"No," Dick said firmly. He was standing his ground. The presence of the new Robin didn't scare him nor did he tremble. "Deathstroke is mine. Now stand down or I'll put you on probationary timeout." 

Jason scoffed and turned his back on Dick muttering a few curses. The old Titans walked up to Dick and they formed a tiny circle ready to discuss their plans on how to get [Name] back to safety. 

……

“A caring mother, you are,” Deathstroke talked to [Name], sitting directly across from her. Their knees almost touching each other. “I could have promised not to lay a finger on your son, but you made things more difficult for you.” 

[Name] swallowed down the blood from her mouth. The taste of iron bothering her taste buds. “I won’t allow my son to get hurt because you have a personal vendetta for his father.”

“You speak as if Grayson holds no meaning to your heart, is it true you two had a falling out?” Deathstroke asked with a tilt of his head. 

“You can say that,” [Name] responded looking away from him. She wasn’t going to speak about her relationship problems with a psycho like Deathstroke. Her business was her business. This wasn’t a therapy session among a hero and villain. 

“Huh, always thought you two were good for each other.”

“Ah, good one. An attempt of sarcasm by the one and only Deathstroke.” [Name] replied to his remark. Her right eye closed upon feeling the warm liquid that was blood drip down it. She forgot that she was hurting while chained to the chair in special handcuffs. Deathstroke’s presence didn’t allow her to relax. He forced her to be on the edge. 

“Why don’t you use your powers, [Name]?” Deathstroke looked at her crossing his arms over his chest. She got him thinking. She needed him to think of the consequences he’ll reap. 

The blood dripped onto her clothing in a slow rhythm. “I don’t know maybe because you got a hold of Cadmus’ tech. Did you steal them or actually request for them, I’m really curious.” She wiped her chin with her shoulder and sighed. [Name] didn’t like waiting and she hoped the Titans could find her. But it was nearly impossible especially if Deathstroke is good at covering steps and going off grid. It was his specialty. 

“I made a bargain with them,” Deathstroke began ominously, “I give them you in exchange for the Titans.”

[Name] was puzzled. “Cadmus doesn’t have the Titans, you only put yourself in a situation which can’t happen because-”

“I hand you over to them now and they could experiment on you. Then they’ll send out their people and get the Titans for me. It’s an easy trade off.”

“I thought you wanted Dick for yourself. Why not get revenge by you doing what you do best. You’re a killer, Deathstroke. Blinded by your rage toward Dick and vice versa, you two killed an innocent boy. A boy I was beginning to love in my own way. A boy Dick took advantage of. A boy who was your dearest son. Why continue this vengeance and for what reason?”

“You are to blame for my son’s death. You allowed Grayson to let Jericho into the Titan life knowing who his father was. Who I was.” [Name] could feel the anger radiating off of his body with each sentence. “Yet you and the Titans didn’t stop Dick from coercing Jericho. You killed him.”

[Name] shook her head, “No, I left the Titans before Jericho died. I only heard about his passing from Dawn, Dick didn’t tell me the truth until I came back and threatened to search his memories.” She paused and softened her glare, “Slade, I’m really sorry about Jericho. He was a wonderful boy and he could have made a great man.”

Deathstroke uncrossed his arms and leaned closely to [Name]. He placed his right knee in between her legs and let his right hand hold the chair. His left hand wiped the blood away from her eye so she could look up at him with both of her [e.color] eyes. “You will be when I make you feel the pain my wife and I went through.”

[Name] knew exactly what he meant. His words struck her heart and her blood ran cold. "No, please, he's just a baby," Her voice was soft and fragile. Her eyes pooling with unshed tears of sadness. 

Deathstroke gripped her chin tightly with his fingers. 

"I'm begging you, Slade," [Name] was crying now. Her eyes closed as she cried for what Deathstroke was planning. She opened them up and begged again, "Please, don't go after my boy. He's innocent and he would never hurt anyone. Slade, please." 

He removed himself from her and began walking away from her in silence. 

[Name] struggled in her bonds. Her feet pushing against the floor and her chair tilted sideways. The weight of her body made herself and the chair fall on their left side. Her body ached, but that didn't stop her from calling out to him, "Leave him alone! Please!"

Dr. Light popped into the room and watched as the mother cried out to Deathstroke. Feeling a little remorse for her, he questioned the man who wiped his sword with a white rag. "You aren't really going after the baby, are you?" 

"Does it matter to you?" Deathstroke placed his sword back into its sheath. He turned his body to Dr. Light waiting patiently for an answer. 

Dr. Light nodded his head, "You said that she and the baby would only be bait for the Titans. All I want is the Titans, not for us to kill some kid." 

"And all I want is revenge." Deathstroke finished and walked out of the room. 

"Don't do this!" Dr. Light cringed at the hoarse yells coming out of [Name]'s mouth and he turned his attention back on the woman. She was lying helplessly on the floor with tears sliding down her face. 

He wasn't supposed to do this.

“Alright, calm down, will ya?” Dr. Light ran over to [Name] and lifted her chair upright. She sniffled and brought her red eyes onto the villain. “Don’t look at me like that. I cross lines, sure. But killing a kid, that’s not for me...yet.” 

That didn’t make [Name] feel any better. 

“I mean a kid that hasn’t done any wrong to me. Fuck the Titans though, am I right?” Dr. Light chuckled and looked at the special handcuffs on her hands. He didn’t know how to take these off. “This is gonna sound awkward, lady. But I can’t take these handcuffs off you, only that bastard can.” 

“That’s fine,” [Name] finally spoke up and her eyes were a bright red along with her hands, “all I need is you.” 

[occasionalhumor]

Makumakuren Chapter 1

Chapter Art by @corvaous​ (see below)​

Also available on AO3

[CW: Blood, abuse+violence (various), illegal activity] 

Summary:  An AU where Keigo was born with his mom’s quirk. His dad is a notorious criminal and known for stealing precious jewelry and fine art. The Takami Thief is a small team that rules the underworld with valuable items and, with the help of the Tokoyami family, has expanded internationally. But what happens if Keigo grows up with a collection of golden pining eyes instead of large red wings?

Chapter 1:  Yosuzume: The Takami Thief

Tucked away in the ceiling raft, keys clacked as Tomie’s nailed fingers formatted a 3D map of the building. A few floating eyeballs twisted and rotated like targeting orbs, watching for security as a few others zoomed down hallways.

“Almost done?” A low voice spoke over her earpiece.

“Mhm.” Tomie responded with a hushed moan.

The free eyeballs made their way back to her, floating back around her body. She closed the lid of the laptop, securing the 3D model of the building, as well as the target location. She slipped her way over the berm to find her husband, Takami Kanaye, waiting on the cement ledge.

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled, red feathered forearms puffing in from the breeze of the high tower. The 2AM city lights illuminated his hardened expression.

Tomie stared at him with dull eyes and spoke quietly, “...here’s the map.”

He snatched the laptop from her hand and opened the model. The detailed map gave them an advantage over the security measures of the building. Cameras and laser traps were labeled as well as the shortest distance to the target. Of course, the timing of patrols and a simulated dot to show their routes.

Kanaye smirked and ran his fingers through her plush hair. He gripped a fistful of her hair and dragged her limp head in circles, “that’s my downy girl. This pay out is going to be fucking huge. You've earned your share, Tomie.”

Tomie took his loving aggression as she always did. Something about the way he grabbed her, the way he praised the use of her quirk, the security he provided with money and a place, the way he took care of everything for her, she got off on it despite his abuse.

He released his grip with a small shove, pushing her head away from him, “Let’s rest up and get to work tonight.”

--

The Takami’s were suited in their stealth gear, fitted in matte black long sleeved shirts and blak cargo pants. Kanaye packed a duffle bag with tools, a case of wireless earpieces, and the computerized map. Tomie followed closely behind him, using her eyeballs to scan the area for security.

Kanaye leapt off the rooftop onto the next building, using his hardened feathers to stabilize himself on the structure. He reached his hand out for Tomie, who leapt off the ledge, and reached for his palm. He hoisted his wife up aggressively, tossing her over the edge onto the rooftop.

He climbed his way up and tossed the black canvas bag in front of her, “get set up.”

Tomie unzipped the bag gingerly, “not going to help?”

“No, I’m about to finish the job. Set me up and pull your weight, yeah?” He huffed before mumbling under his breath, “... worthless bitch. ”

Tomie flinched with a bout of anxiety at the comment, as she unpacked some technical instruments, the computer with the 3D model, a hand held small suction, and an amber marble with a red feather in the center of a black cat-eye.

She cleaned the concave piece with an alcohol wipe and lazily handed it to Kanaye. He stuffed the laser into a cylindrical pouch on his belt and scratched the marble from the ground. He rolled it between his fingers before chuckling and placing it into his breast pocket.

Tomie opened the computer and placed an earpiece around the cartilage of her ear. She handed Kanaye a matching piece and played some testing beeps.

“I don’t hear anything, Tomie. Don’t tell me you fucked up and broke the comms.” He gritted, grabbing the collar of her shirt, “I swear to the Gods, cunt , if you-...”

He was interrupted by Tomie handing him another earpiece. He shoved her forward by her collar and huffed. After he placed the tech in his ear, she played the testing audio again. He looked down at her disgusted and humphed while taking a few steps to the edge of the building.

“If this is an easy job, you’ll get a good fucking for all your hard work. If not…” He smirked over his shoulder, “...you’ll get a good beating. But you’d like that, right? You fuck up missions on purpose so I beat you? Like the whore you are.”

Tomie didn’t answer, she stared at Kanaye blankly until he turned to her. His chest puffed out and he furrowed his eyebrows, “not going to answer me? Then maybe I should beat you first.”

He took two large strides toward her before she spoke coldly, “I would like to be rewarded for an easy job.”

He stopped in his tracks and stood straight, “Good.” Kanaye closed the distance with soft steps and knelt to Tomie on the ground, “I hate punishing you, it hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“I know, everything you do is what’s best for me... For my health, my safety, and my security.” She mumbled as he planted a peck onto her forehead.

“That’s right, my downy little girl.” He gripped the back of her neck tightly between the pads of his fingers, “Don’t forget who you owe your body to.”

There was a long pause before Kanaye brought his hand across Tomie’s cheek in a small, yet forceful, slap. “Give me your eyes, bitch. We’re late.”

Tomie glazed over, floating a set of three eyes to follow Kanaye as he began his descent into the building through a vent. Tomie curled up, folding her legs, and resting the laptop in her lap. She watched as a dot moved slowly on the 3D model, showing where Kanaye is located.

A bout of static filled Tomie’s ear, “alright, GPS. Where to?”

Tomie fed him directions to the jewelry gallery. Kenaye paused, “where are the traps?”

Tomie took a moment, “pressure sensor rimming the case, take the glass with you. The floor has a rotating electric tripwire. Wait for my signal, I’m going to scout it to check the timing.”

“Quickly, Tomie.” He huffed in frustration.

Tomie’s eyeball glided across the open space, close to the ceiling until she spotted the green ray rotating slowly across the floor.

“From its current position, you’ll have….93 seconds.” She stated.

“That’s enough time.” Kanaye dropped from the vent with a thud of his heavy boots.

He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and hardened a crimson feather, plucking it from his forearm. He scraped the feather over the glass in a circular motion to score and pulled the suction from his pouch. He placed the piece of rubber over the glass and ran his sharpened feather another pass over the score. Kanaye applied a little pressure and the glass easily released itself.

Kanaye smirked and slid the glass off the suction, placing it in his pocket. He eyed the gold pocket watch in the blistering white case. The Breguet Antique Number 2667 glistened its $4.5 million watch face on the rotating pillow as he reached into the case and gingerly pulled the it from the pedestal.

“20 seconds, Kanaye.” Tomie’s static voice spoke in his ear.

“Package secure, Tomie. You fucking earned it tonight.” He mumbled placing the watch in a small velvet bag and into the crossbody satchel. He pulled the marble calling card from his breast pocket and placed it in the viewing case.

He jumped back up into the vent and was directed back to the rooftop where Tomie was waiting. The two packed their gear and made their way back to the hotel. But not without warranting some aggressively lewd statements from Kanaye.

Kanaye escorted Tomie into their modest hideaway and he dropped the satchel and tech bag on the table. He grabbed Tomie’s arm firmly, not allowing her to get too far and yanked her into him.

He squeezed her rear, taking her small cheek into the palm of his hand. He dug his nails through the thick fabric, while squeezing the back of her neck with his other hand. Almost unwelcomed, he shoved his tongue down her throat until he laid a resounding smack on her ass and she opened her mouth for him to ravage.

Tomie blanked, her body defaulted and allowed Kanaye to do as he wanted. He stumbled them to the bed, in a series of sloppy backsteps. Kanaye shoved her onto the stiff sheets and flipped her, forcing her hips up.

He tugged at her pants, pulling them over her small and bony structure. After he could see her skin, he pulled his half-erection from his pants and found a home for another slap on her bare body.

“It’s only good when you moan, bitch.” He tugged himself twice before slipping his head in raw and dry.

The thing is, it did feel good, only after a while. Tomie’s forced and faked whimpers turned into deep moans to accommodate his aggression and girth. She loved how he felt inside, but only after proper attention to her sex, which she never received.

Within minutes, he was quickening the pace and pulled her hair, bringing her neck into his palm. He got off on her gasping, the way her throat contracted in his hand as he applied more pressure.

He brought her close to hear her cries until he finished himself with a final pump inside her.

Uncaring he dumped her body, letting it hit the slightly wrinkled sheets as he undressed to shower.

--

Tomie gently tapped the traditional shoji door with a gold plaque etched Tokoyami , “sumimasen…Fumiko-San?”

A short and slender woman with a raven shaped face slid the shoji open and ushered her inside, “hello Tomie-San! Looking for another job? Is Kanaye-San with you because Tsukiya is at the meetup apartment.”

“I actually came to talk with you. Kanaye is out of town with another gang.” Tomie squeezed the hem of her cardigan.

“Of course, you’re a long time friend! Let me get some tea and we can catch up!” Fumiko disappeared into the kitchen to collect a Tokoyami custom tetsubin (cast-iron kettle), a large vase of water, tea leaves in a porcelain dish and two tea cups.

Fumiko brought the kit to the irori (sunken hearth) where Tomie sat. She filled the kettle with it’s first round of water, bringing it to a slow boil. The women sat in silence for a while, absorbing the company.

Fumiko’s porcelain skin peeked from her sleeves, her raven face analyzed Tomie’s body. She took account of the bruises that were barely hidden on her forearm.

“How have you been Tomie?” Fumiko asked, replacing the boiling water with fresh water and tea leaves. She placed the kettle back over the flame to officially prepare the tea.

“Fine. Lots of jobs, thanks to the Shadow Mafia.” Tomie smiled.

“Tsukiya does all the work finding the connections for you and Kanaye. You are the greatest thieves in the underworld. To be frank, you’re a hot commodity by some of the big names across Japan…” Fumiko paused, to flip the cups over, “...and with this new deal, maybe worldwide.”

Tomie chuckled, “it’s an honor to work with you. Do you really think we could get international contract?”

Fumiko scrunched her nose in disbelief, “oh absolutely! How could you not? You’re clean on jobs, efficient, and The Takami Thief is murmured as a thing to be feared. You and Kanaye will have so many jobs to choose from. Dealer’s choice!”

Tomie paused, taking in her compliments. She gripped her cardigan that lay over her thighs, “I don’t know how well that will work…” She leaned onto her knees.

Fumiko pulled the boiling tea from the flame and poured it into the cups. She gently handed one to Tomie and pointed to her bruised arm, “are you planning to leave?”

There was a dense bout of silence before Fumiko continued, “are you planning on getting out of your marriage, Tsukiya can help. We can have our prediction team, Dark Shadow, watch over you. Neither of us like that Kanaye beats yo-...”

“I’m pregnant.” Tomie muttered in a dry and cold tone.

Chapter 2 available August 20th