#i got defeated by a bagel

[vogelmeister]

i just think you should know that you changing your pfp is still f*ckin with my brain... i am not good with usernames and whenever i see a post of yours now, i ask myself since when do i follow two accounts obsessed with the netherlands??? anyways have a nice day and maybe just ignore this ask

i am actually planning a small army of non dutch people who like the netherlands. do not worry. we come in peace.

i totally get this. im pretty url blind and even pfp blind so like i normally have to go into ppl's blogs to see who they are. one thing you should know is that im not changing my header of zaanse schaans any time soon. the fact that looks so much like a stock photo is funny to me.

[ratzmatazz]

I think I got possessed by charlie chaplin and the only way I can tell this story is by greentext I hope you all understand

>be me (20 year old fool) >live in nyc >walking around and realize I haven’t eaten and also need to do some work so I decide to go to a cafe >walk around for like 30 minutes until I finally find one, looks great very peaceful plenty of people working >walk inside order bagel the guy behind the counter is french(???) and he talks slowly but my brain is on autopilot so I look like an asshole who talks too fast because nyc cafes are usually a quick-time event and I'm disrupting the cafe zen I guess >panic order first bagel I see to redeem myself >ice coffee and loaded bagel (whatever that is) is 20 dollars altogether >whatever the place looks nice for work >barista gives me a number stand for my bagel and I walk away and stand in the main space before realizing I need to still get my coffee? Come back looking even more like an asshole >coffee is in incredibly inconvenient glass cup and filled to the brim too >sugar station is right next to barista so he watches me now pour an obscene amount of sugar syrup but very very slowly >sugar syrup pourer is mildly broken and every time I try to get it to flow faster than "pouring cold tar" it squirts a pump onto the table >sit down >realize I’m sitting in their fucking decorative ~aesthetic~ chair and not a real fucking table >spend 2 minutes slowly dragging a table closer before realizing I look insane and moving all my stuff >still sitting in decorative chair during all of this >guy talking to his friend nearby is watching me and trying not to laugh at me out loud >preparing myself for putting the table back and admitting defeat >do not take coffee off of table >stand up for this but the table is lighter than expected and I tilt the table when I try to scoot it back >coffee leans slowly and cartoonishly close to falling over but I quickly scoot the table over and put it down before it can fully tip and ruin me forever >do this routine of up and down table 3 fucking times moving it back >sit down in shame at real table >guy talking to his friend subtly angles himself to be watching me over his friend's shoulder >take out laptop to work and it’s out of power >no biggie I’ll plug it in I even sat next to four power outlets :) >try first one >no good >try next one >all four outlets don’t work. >want to leave but still have bagel so maybe life is good >bagel arrives >no fucking cream cheese on my bagel. >lady who brings out my bagel is an elderly old-school nyc lady who looks at me with barely hidden disgust for my unknowing bagel monstrosity of 99% spring mix, warm cucumber slices, three pieces of bacon, and a fried egg >bagel is too tall for the second bagel piece to go on top of the bagel >trash can is right next to barista so they’ll see me throw out the untouched shameful top of the bagel too >table is also too small for the bagel plate and my laptop and too cramped for me to easily put it away >eat with laptop on lap (top) (haha) >bite bagel >runny yolk >egg bursts >YOLK ALL OVER LAPTOP. >guy still watching me >tiny courtesy napkin to wipe up my egg shame. >humiliating smooth jazz is playing during all of this. >charlie chaplin's ghost finally releases me from my torment.

[cheralith]

slytherin’s prof. michael kaiser, who normally teaches defense against the dark arts, has to sub in for the potions professor who had accidentally ingested some jawbind potion after spilling it on his morning bagel, making him completely incapable of speaking.

it’s nearing valentines day and he’s boredly teaching the fifth years about the seasonal lesson of amortentia, the most powerful love potion known to man, and while many pay a little too much attention to his lecture and gazing upon the bubbling baby pink liquid in his cauldron, he just wants to get this class over with and go back to his regular schedule—especially since he’s also the coach of slytherin’s quidditch team and the highly-awaited slytherin vs ravenclaw game is coming up and he especially is itching to see the absolute look of defeat that’ll succumb not only ravenclaw’s players, but also their coach—you—his long-term academic rival. he needs to train them as much as he can and he can’t meddle any more time in unnecessary things like potions.

“right, so you’ll know it’s ready to be simmered down once you added the rose thorns,” he sighs as he plops in thorn by thorn, the students ooh-ing as a shimmer rides over the potion’s tides in the cauldron. kaiser brings the heat down, watching as the steam slowly coils up into the air.

“the most prominent thing about amortentia is its smell,” kaiser states, “there’s a distinct smell to amortentia, but at the same time, there’s also no distinct smell to it. anyone understand what i’m saying?”

a young gryffindor raises her hand. "the smell of it depends on the person! usually it smells of things that a person finds pleasant or reminds them of someone they love."

"i wouldn't exactly say 'love', but yes, that's correct," kaiser hums as he gently stirs the pot. he had always been fickle with the term, especially since the topic of love had always seemed foreign to him. he was always able to grasp other concepts rather well, but love? it seemed a little too distant for his liking and he had no initiative to try and chase it to understand it. "the scent of it varies amongst everyone, so no two people will smell the same things."

a hufflepuff boy chimes in, "what do you smell, professor?"

kaiser looks up from the hypnotizing glimmer of the potion and raises a brow. he supposes it had been awhile since he had made the potion since his fifth-year and can't remember exactly what he had smelled, so he leans over the cauldron and wafts its scent towards him.

freshly baked bread is what rushes to him first. most likely from the bakery he used to steal from as a young boy.

second is the mild spice of cedar. that was most likely from his broomstick that was given to him when he got scouted to be in slytherin's quidditch team. the scent is familiar to him, considering he'd spent so much of his youth dedicated to it being by his side.

but the third... is lavender. kaiser furrows his brows and thinks that can't be right. he'd know where the scents would be from, but lavender seems a little foreign to him.

his concentration to try and trace the origin of it is suddenly broken when the door opens to reveal... you.

"sorry professor abernathy," you start as you gather the attention of the students. "my students are out of—you're not abernathy."

kaiser cocks a brow at your confused and irritated gaze as he scans your figure. "well clearly. i'm subbing for him for today since he's out sick. need something, (l/n)?"

you scoff at his snarky and unprofessional tone, making some of the students giggle. your long-standing rivalry with slytherin's head of house was quite famous amongst the generations of students at hogwarts, both when you and him were students and during your careers as professors. "that's professor (l/n) to you, professor kaiser."

"we all know that you don't care to call me that behind the scenes," he says casually. "no need for a filter."

a heated huff escapes your lips as you shake your head. "i advise you to have a knack for one. would do you some good, perhaps, especially since you racked up quite the detentions back when we were students."

a couple of ooh's wisp by from kaiser's students and he grits his teeth. not wanting to let himself be humiliated any longer from your presence, he hisses out, "what do you need, professor (l/n)?"

"mmh, that's more like it," you hum lightly as you make your way across the classroom to the jars that sit behind the professor's demonstration desk. "my students ran out of griffin's claw for their fertilizer. i just need a pinch of it, so i'm sure professor abernathy won't mind."

kaiser bites his tongue back to hurl an insult of that he'd mind, considering you were disrupting his class, but he falls silent, merely watching you with sly eyes as you make your way over and pass him by, your cloak fluttering behind you.

he freezes suddenly.

that's when he smells it.

the fresh scent of lavender fills his senses again, but this time, it doesn't come from the cauldron.

he looks back and when your figure enters his field of vision, the scent grows stronger despite him not facing the cauldron of amortentia.

that unique scent of lavender... is coming from you.

a/n ; @baepsays had suggested in a prior post that he'd prob have green dyed tips instead of blue and i was just so utterly consumed by it that i rewatched three hp movies. i'm ruined

[moralesluvr]

Could I request a hobie x reader with a morning routine?

morning routine with hobie brown <3

♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x spider!fem!black!reader ♡ summary: morning routine with hobie!! ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: this idea was literally the cutest ever! tysm for requesting amor ♡ got a request? | masterlist in the works! ♡

"HOBIE, IT'S TIME TO GET UP." You called out to your boyfriend as you slid a pair of shorts on in front of your mirror, stepping into your white Spider-Man slippers. You heard Hobie groan into one of your pillows, "Mmgh, five more minutes, love?"

"No." You sighed, "Unfortunately, there are bad guys we have to defeat today, just like every other day-- you know this. I love you, but you gotta get up."

Your statement earns another groan from your lover, but you ignore it as you walk over to your bed, pulling the covers off of Hobie. A string of loud curses leave his lips as you toss the comforter onto the ground.

"You're so annoying," He mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You grabbed his hand and pulled firmly, "Get ready with me?"

Although he pretended otherwise, Hobie loved when you shared your morning routine with him. That definitely woke him up out of his former slumber as he rose up off the bed, following you into the bathroom so that you could start your morning.

You opened the drawer next to you as Hobie flicked the light on, hands taking home on your hips as he stood behind you. He rested his head atop yours as he sighed, "'M tired...think I'm jus' gonna let some people accept their fate today."

"Hobie!" You snap, pulling your matching headbands out of the drawer. You reach above you and hand Hobie his black one, "You can't just say that. We're super heroes and we have to do our job."

"I was only joking," Hobie scoffs, sliding his headband on.

"Handsome, can you tie my braids back?" You asked him sweetly. He nodded eagerly and grabbed a thick hair tie from the cabinet, taking your hair in his big palms and pulling it into a neat ponytail. You thanked him as he stepped beside you, grabbing his toothbrush. You copied his actions as you brushed your teeth, singing the ABCs in your head a couple times to make sure they were clean. You turned the water on and spat, and you nearly felt Hobie shiver.

"I know spitting is necessary in this moment," He starts, "But I have to admit, doll, it is disgusting."

You ignore his statement and roll your eyes, grabbing your face wash. You run your hands under the water for a couple seconds and squirt some into your hands, massaging it into your skin. Hobie follows suit, although he washes his face for what seems like about five seconds.

"Now you know good and well your skin is not clean." You said, eyes screwed shut in hopes to not get the soap in your eye.

Hobie shrugged at your statement as he moisturized his skin, taking the headband off and laying it back in the drawer where it belongs. You finished up your routine quickly, following your lover into the kitchen for quick coffee and breakfast.

"I'm feelin' peckish," Hobie remarks, opening the doors to your shared pantry to find something to eat. You scoff at his use of British slang.

"Peckish? Why not just say 'looking for a little snack' you nerd." You laugh, grabbing one of your mugs from the cupboard. You pop a Starbucks pod into the Keurig, letting your mug sit underneath as you venture back to your bedroom to grab some clothes and your suit.

You slip on a pair of black cargos and a teeny white crop, something that you can easily slip in and out of if need be. You hear footsteps approach the door, Hobie's half-clothed body leaning against the doorframe.

"Wanna match outfits today?" He suggests, taking a bite out of a bagel that's filled to the brim with cream cheese. You nod, "Sure, if you wanna wear somethin' like this, 'cause I don't feel like changing."

"Mkay," He remarks, pulling the first two items out of the drawer that resemble your outfit. He grabs a spiky belt and pulls it through the loops of his pants, the waistband of his Calvin Kleins showing. You take the hair tie out of your hair and stuff it in your pocket, grabbing your keys-- "Are you about ready to go, Hobs? Don' wanna be late."

"Yeah, comin'!" He yells, but you're already heading for the door by the time he's even halfway ready to go. You scoop your coffee up from the kitchen, opening the front door, "Yo, I'm leaving!" You sing song, stepping through the door.

"Y/N, you idiot, wait!"

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 9

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s time to take down Ghostface once and for all…nothing can go wrong, right?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Language, Angst

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There’s also fluff in the beginning because it wouldn’t be me without fluff…happy reading! Don’t forget to tell me what you think <3

The rest of the evening is spent in bliss. Tara in your arms splayed on the floor while you guys whisper disgustingly sweet nothings into the other's ear.

The morning after is no different. You wake to the smell of burnt bread, bacon, and eggs.

You get up drearily, try to stretch and immediately regret it when you feel a sharp sting pull at both your shoulder and stomach.

Humph. Last night almost made you forget you had two additional holes in your body.

You poke your head into the kitchen and smile cheekily.

"Good morning sunshine. Whatcha making there?" You hum, waltzing over to stand behind your girlfriend.

You don't see her face but you can tell she's pouting. Her shoulders tight, fists balled at her sides.

"The bagel burned." She says, letting out a tiny huff.

You peer over her to see 4 halves of a bagel burnt to a crisp, sitting sadly at the feet of the table.

"I can see that." You chuckle. She turns around quickly, big frown on her face.

"It's not funny. This has never happened before." She whines.

"It's a little funny. I mean, who would've thought an amazing chef like you would burn some plain ol bagels?" You tease, tilting your face down to press a kiss to her hair.

She pinches your sides a little too hard in warning.

"Okay, okay! Come on, I'll do the bagels. The bacon smells amazing though, you should go check up on those." You suggest, watching Tara brighten up at your praise comically fast.

You can almost see the imaginary lightbulb spark above her head.

"Yes. That's what I'll do." She grins, sauntering over to her bacon and eggs. She turns back quickly as if she just remembered something.

"But not because you told me to." She says, a mischievous grin on her lips. You roll your eyes but nod nonetheless.

She picks up her phone from the counter, presses play on a song.

It fits the energy nicely. Sort of slow, sort of upbeat. It's very romantic though.

She senses it too, you can tell by the way she snakes her hand around your waist and pulls you closer for a dance.

It might look a little silly from an outsider's perspective, you'll admit that, but it fills you with warmth.

It's times like these you want to use those cringy words couples are always describing their feelings with. You feel fuzzy. You want to forget about everything else in the world and focus on her.

"Tsk. tsk. Lovebirds, outta the way, I'm starving!" Mindy exclaims, popping out from god knows where. You frown a little at the intrusion.

She hurries over to the fridge, grabs a stray piece of bacon on her way there; earning her a light slap from Tara.

She rummages through the fridge, moving things left and right and out and in again.

"What's got you so excited?" Tara asks, sharing a look with you. Mindy doesn't turn as she answers.

"Not excited, I'm getting prepared. Can't defeat Ghostface with an empty stomach, can I?" She replies jokingly.

It's enough to ruin the mood. It makes you remember it's not just you and Tara in this world, and absolutely nothing is currently fine.

You straighten, clear your throat. Then turn to Tara, hoping you can still pretend to live in the moment.

"Shall we have breakfast, m'lady?" You ask, bowing dramatically.

You can tell it doesn't work. Tara's eyes darken again.

"Yeah...yeah. Let's." She says, sending you a small smile and pulling out your chair for you.

You squeeze her hand three times and try to send her a secret signal. She smiles a little, returning with three squeezes of her own.

-

You're quiet most of the ride to your apartment. The seven of you are crammed into Sam's little SUV; knees pressed together uncomfortably.

"What's the plan again?" You ask, trying to relieve some of the anxiety that's forming inside you with a distraction. The untimely news about your father had shaken you a bit, leaving you with no memory whatsoever of the plan the rest of the gang had made.

Tara's the one who answers you.

"We call Ghostface, get him to come to your apartment. You, me, Sam, and Chad will be waiting. Try to get him to fall for the trap, cage him up, shoot him and then we chop chop and pretend this never happened for the rest of our lives." She says simply, with all the chill of someone who's planning a holiday vacation.

When you get to the apartment, Sam equips herself with a net gun, the most important weapon; because she claims she's the only one who can use it. She's not wrong about that.

When she hands out the rest of the weapons to the group, you can tell she sees the hesitance on your face. You're tired. Not ready to fight.

The only weapon she gives you is a tiny pocket knife.

There's a trap set up right at the front door, and if all hell goes loose, there's a secret gun stashed in your bedroom.

You're not confident in the plan, not at all. There's way too much assuming what Ghostface will do when you all know he's a deranged psycho with a mind of his own.

By the time you get there, trap at the front door set, you're shaking. It's an unfortunate habit, really. You feel the dull ache in your stomach get worse with anxiety.

You're all standing smack dab in the middle of your living room. Nobody's relaxed enough to sit down.

Mindy, Ethan, Anika and Danny are situated together somewhere downstairs, in hiding. Ready to signal to you guys if they see anything suspicious.

You told them that you shouldn't split up, and safety was in numbers; but alas, the four of them had refused.

"Don't worry. We'll be safe." Ethan had said to you before he left, quickly following behind the other three with a skip in his steps.

Now, Tara inches closer to you, obviously sensing your turmoil. She grabs both your hands in hers and brings them up to her lips to kiss each of your knuckles. Her face is tight, determined.

"I'm gonna kill this fucker for what he did to you." She whispers, low enough for no one else but you to hear.

Normally, you'd laugh and quip back that she's way too tiny and weak for that, but the way she's looking at you; all mad and worked up sends shivers down your spine.

You open your mouth to tell her you'd happily do the same for her, but the indistinct sound of a phone ringing beats you to it.

Sam looks down at the contact and her expression turns unreadable. She sends all of you a final 'you ready?' look.

"Hello, Samantha." Comes the raspy voice out of Sam's phone.

"Hi." Sam grits out, grip so hard around the net gun that her knuckles turn white.

It's quiet for too long, almost like Ghostface is unsure of what to say. You raise an eyebrow internally.

Wasn't Ghostface supposed to be like super witty and stuff?

"Hey fuckface, would you mind telling us where you are? I'll show you mine if you show me yours." You say, voice light; sort of teasing. Tara grips your hand hard in support.

"Oh, YN...you didn't think I didn't know about your little plan did you?" Ghostface drawls and all four of you pale almost collectively.

"Plan? We just want to meet the fucker that wants to kill us," Sam says, eyes darting back and forth between your windows.

"Why don't you show yourself hm? Or are you too much of a pussy that you can't even fight me face to face?" She taunts, and you try to bite back the surprise on your face at her tone. She's serious, snarl on her face, fire evident in her eyes type of serious. It scares you a little.

What scares you even more is that you agree with her. There's something stirring deep in you, the feeling of ever losing Tara, the random uncalled DNA test, the fact that this fucker wants to take you away from her.

It's never going to happen.

You're about to open your mouth and bully the hell out of Ghostface when a loud shrill scream cuts you off.

You can feel the atmosphere change immediately.

It's not like your first night up on the roof with Tara now, you know what you're supposed to do. Or at least you kind of know.

You dart out the front door, leaping past the trap door you've made and practically sprint down the flights of stairs.

You can hear the three of them close behind you, footsteps hurried.

"Guys?" You call out.

There's a thumping sound and an animalistic groan. It makes you run even faster.

You round the corner to see Danny pressed up against a wall, Ghostface too close for comfort and thrashing wildly.

He's putting up a good fight, dodging and throwing in punches when he can; but it's clear who has the upper hand here.

"Hey, fuckface! Get away from my girlfriend's sister's boyfriend!" You yell, as loud as you can.

Damn, that's wordy.

You grip Ghostface's shoulders, using as much force as you can to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze in an attempt to try and pry him off Danny. You manage to throw him back, and quickly steady your feet as he tries to take a sloppy swing at you.

"Danny, where's the rest of them?" You question, looking around to see no sight of Ethan, Anika nor Mindy.

Ghostface surges at you again, and you dive to the side, kicking him in the side.

"I don't know, they just left." He says, sounding exasperated. You scrunch your eyebrows at his statement.

You see Sam behind Ghostface, ready with a beer bottle in her hand.

Huh, wonder where she got that.

She slams it down on his head hard, and Ghostface lets out a whimper. He swings madly at the both of you, not letting you approach. Then, he dashes out the lobby door before you guys can do anything.

You see the internal conflict in Sam's eyes. She wants to follow Ghostface, but she also wants to check up on Danny and his sort of worrying-looking wound.

"Stay with him. I'll follow Ghostface." You say, your tone authorative. You know she needs to hear it right now.

"Absolutely not." Tara pipes up, rushing up to you and putting her hands on your waist.

As if that was going to stop you.

You lean down quickly and press a kiss on her cheek.

"I have to go. Like right now. Or else we're going to lose him." You murmur, rub her back comfortingly. You can tell she's about to open her mouth and argue again, but Chad beats her to it.

"I'll go with her, don't worry Tara." He announces. He grabs you by the arm and urges you forward.

You mouth a quick 'love you' to Tara and run out the front lobby door, Chad in tow.

It's not hard at all to guess where the three of them could've gone. You notice the splatter of blood beneath your feet immediately; signal it to Chad.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

It's a lot. It has to be at least a gallon of blood, paving a clear way, hand prints and feet prints crazy and wild.

There's a spluttering sound to the left of you where the blood trail starts getting bigger and thicker. In big, random splotches till it stops right in front of a bush.

It would be a good hiding spot, if it weren't for the liquid painting everything crimson.

You round the big bush, weary; scared of what you might find. The pocket knife is pressed hard in your hand.

"Ethan?" You say as you see the brunette boy propped up against a wall, hiding behind the bush, hands pressed to a wound at his ribcage.

He looks extremely close to death. Like the grim reaper is five seconds away to coming and sucking the life out of him type of dead.

You don't waste a second. You rush over, fall to your knees, already feeling tears prick at your eyes.

"No no no, please." You murmur to no one in general, gripping and slapping at Ethan's shoulders, trying to get him awake.

His eyes are half-lidded, breath coming in in short sharp gasps.

You turn sharply, scream at Chad to get down here. You make him press at Ethan's wound further while you grab desperately at your shirt and ripping a piece off.

"YN." Ethan croaks, trying to get you to look at him.

There's no time, you can't. You can't let him go, not when you've just started to get to know him. Your closest friend, under you, bleeding out slowly.

There's no use trying to stop the tears now, tears stream down your face, blurring your vision.

You take the cloth in your hands and wrap it around his wound, tight, in hopes of stopping the bleeding.

It's too late, you all know it. He's already lost too much blood. He shakes a little and it makes you look up.

He's laughing.

He doesn't get to do it for very long, because blood is trickling out his mouth and choking him.

"Please, Ethan. I need you. Please don't go." You plead, taking his hand in yours and squeezing as hard as possible.

You feel the faintest squeeze before his hand falls entirely limp.

"I love you." He whispers, and then he closes his eyes. It looks almost peaceful, like he's falling asleep after a long day.

You're sobbing now. There's nothing holding you back, just pure carnal screams.

Chad sits, hands limp at his sides. Like he doesn't know what to do. He's crying too, you notice, but it's hard to see anything through your hazy vision.

You know they were close too, to the point where Chad was comfortable enough to introduce Ethan to the rest of the gang.

You feel hot, and the sadness switches to anger fast. You feel enraged.

You stand up, look both ways.

"Ghostface! Show yourself you fucker, or I'm going to hunt you down and gut you myself." You yell, hands gripping the pocket knife so hard the handle sinks between your fingers a little.

Immediately you hear something coming from the back of you. You're knocked back and stumble onto the pavement, a blur of black and white on top of you.

Your heart picks up till you feel like it might explode. Ghostface's taking your arms and placing them above your head, trying to stop you from moving.

You scream as he takes his knife and slices open the wound on your stomach once again, not too deep for it to be fatal; but enough for you to feel like you want to die.

He gets knocked over by Chad, who's standing arms flexed and ready for more fighting if necessary.

You roll over, get as close to Ghostface as you can, and try to sink the pocket knife into his chest.

You hit something hard and furrow your brows, trying with all your might to press down so you can finally kill the fucker.

He's wearing a bulletproof vest, you realize all at once, and try to change the directions of your knife.

It's too late, because he's recovering already. Ghostface reaches down to grab at your shoulder wound. You hiss, retracting immediately at the pain.

He takes that opportunity to get up and flee, but not before aiming a knife to Chad and throwing, ninja style.

"Yeah, flee you pathetic coward." You growl, taking Chad's extended hand and getting up.

"Guys?" You hear Sam call out, somewhere somewhat close.

"We're over here!" Chad yells out, and it takes only moments before you see the three of them running towards you; faces distraught.

Sam and Danny slow down halfway when they see that there's no immediate danger, but Tara picks up her pace, rushing towards you and all but flings herself into your arms.

You wince, but hold her tight.

She pulls back when she feels the thick sticky liquid painting her own shirt red. Her hands dart to cup your face, deep frown on her lips.

"You got hurt again." And her voice cracks as if she might cry.

"I'm okay." You try and reassure, tilting your face and kissing her hard.

You pull back, too quick for her liking.

"Ethan." You mumble, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

"Ethan what?" She asks, trying to wipe the blood off your face.

"He's dead." Chad answers, voice hollow.

Tara's face changes immediately. She knows how close you were with him.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry." She whispers, rubbing comforting circles at the top of your head. You bend down, bury yourself in the crook of her neck so she doesn't have to see you cry.

You sniff slightly.

"So like...what do we do with the body?" Danny pipes up.

"We'll call the police. No use calling the ambulance now." Sam answers, eyeing you while she says the second part of her sentence.

You don't react, trying to block out the noises around you and focus on Tara. You think you might break down if you don't.

"Where's Anika and Mindy?" Tara asks softly, moving her hands to rub at your back now.

"I don't know." You mumble, shake your head to affirm your statement.

No one says anything for a long moment, but everyone's thinking the same thing.

"You guys don't think...Anika and Mindy are the killers do you?" Chad asks, a little hesitant. He sounds in disbelief.

Sam moves to touch his bicep lightly, trying to offer him some comfort. He leans into her touch, shoulders sagged and defeated.

"We don't know," She says, "but we should find them. Before we make any assumptions. Tara, call YN an ambulance.  The rest of you follow me."

There's always a sense of authority in Sam's voice that makes you want to follow, want to believe in her.

Tara nods at her sister, and leads you onto the edge of a sidewalk where you can sit freely.

She walks away to call the ambulance, and you watch as the rest of them walk away; till their silhouettes look the size of an ant.

You turn your attention to the road in front of you, the busy city. Not a single person bats an eye your direction, and you wonder how not a single person had come to your aid when you were screaming for your life.

"God, I hate people." You say as Tara sits down beside you.

"Me too." She says with no hesitance. You turn your head to look at her.

You think you understand her trauma a little bit better now. You can't even imagine doing all this a second time.

Your girlfriend really was a special kind of person.

She smiles at you softly, and the lamps above you light her face nicely.

"We'll be okay." She says, and squeezes your hand three times.

You hum but don't say anything. Squeeze it back three times.

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone iv

summary: as you wait for the sea to reclaim your body, you feel the tide around your ankles

word count: 4.2k

warnings: gore, animal injuries, autopsy processes, medical happenings, language, some nice domestic fluff before it's violently ripped away from you

notes: i have finally finished finals, so have this as a treat | ao3

blood and bone ml

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When a case comes across your desk, you want to run and hide. If you never have to autopsy a half human again, it would be too soon. You stare at the unopened file, willing yourself as best you can to open it and get started. You just can’t. Leon shoulders his way into your cracked office door, raising his eyebrows when he catches your gaze. He’s holding a bagel haphazardly wrapped in a few napkins and a cup of coffee. It almost makes you smile.

“Got something new?” he asks, crossing the room. He sets the coffee on your desk, sticking out his arm to hand you the bagel. You take it, picking at some of the bread flaking off of it.

“Yeah, seems that way,” you say, defeat creeping into your voice. You turn back to the file, staring at it like it might bite you if you try to open it. Maybe it will.

“What is it?” Leon asks, leaning over you to peek at the unopened file. You shrug. “You haven’t looked at it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to,”

He steals a sip from the coffee he brought, face souring at the sweetness of it. You like a lot of sugar in yours, compared to his preference of straight black. He pulls a chair over, sitting beside you.

You’re still in that awkward stage of…whatever this is. You’re not sure where you stand, exactly. Obviously, your relationship is different than it was a few months ago, but you’re not sure what to make of it now. You haven’t had time to go out, not really. Between his unpredictable visits at work and catching him in the hallways of events, you haven’t had a chance to even talk about things.

Leon pulls the file in front of him, opening it without a second thought.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that,” you say, smiling a bit. He shrugs.

“It’s never stopped me before,” he says, eyes glued to the information that lies in the file.

You lean over to steal a glance at the words. Half of it is redacted, thick black lines covering names and places. Sentences are bisected by the opposite of a highlight. You frown.

“How am I supposed to do my job if I can’t see most of it?” you huff. Leon smooths a hand over your shoulder. The action relaxes you a bit.

“Looks like whatever is going on is along the coast,” he says. You nod. “Beached whales,”

“What?” you blurt, pulling the file into your view. Sure enough, red lines accent the information. Whales and other animals are dead under mysterious circumstances. They’ve already ruled out oil and factory by-products.

“That’s not good, I take it,” Leon half jokes. You pin him with a look. He grins. “Definitely not good,”

“Not good at all,”

You stare at the file, reading over what you can while you gnaw slowly on your bagel. Leon busies himself by attempting to braid a piece of your hair. He’s not very good at it, but he’s trying.

“I have to go soon,” he mumbles, not removing his deft fingers from your scalp. There’s tenderness in his touch, a feeling you’re still getting used to. “You’ll be alright?”

You turn a bit to look at him. The softness in his blue eyes is enough to make you melt. You want to say no. You want to tell him to stay and keep sitting with you. You breathe easier in his presence.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” you say instead, reaching up to take one of his hands. He gives it a little squeeze as he pulls away from you. As he gathers his things to leave, he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“I might be gone a few days,” he says. You blink at him. “I’ll call when I can,”

“Okay,” you say, voice chopped around the bite of bagel you’ve taken. “Be safe,”

He’s gone without another word, leaving you empty without his presence. A strange air settles over your bones, caking you in what feels like melancholy. You scrunch your nose in response, turning back to your files and reports. You suppose you should find a supervisor or someone in order to get more information on your case. You don’t want to. You want to freeze in place until Leon gets back. For whatever reason, you feel like you can’t take on a case on your own anymore. Having another brain to bounce ideas off of certainly makes the job easier. Before, you’d been able to churn through cases without a second thought. But now, you feel like you need a partner. It makes you frown.

It’s two days later when you touch down on the sand of a North Carolina beach. There’s a sad looking, half alive whale flipping its tail aimlessly along the shore. You sigh deeply, watching it blink against the sand getting thrown in its eye from the wind.

“Not looking good,” Rebecca says from behind you. Her backpack is almost twice the size of her, making her hunch slightly.

“It looks like it’s in so much pain,” you say sadly. “What do we do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Rebecca says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You nod.

You follow her down the beach, watching as the whale attempts to move itself back into the water with its flippers. The fruitless action makes your heart clench. It’s much bigger up close than you really expected. You knew whales were big, sure, but you’d never seen one this close. You run your palm along its nose, and it grunts at you. The sound is guttural and raspy, like it's gasping. Your stomach churns.

Rebecca rounds the side of the whale, and you follow her. You crouch down to examine what looks like an infected wound on its side. The stench is almost unbearable. You’ve experienced your fair share of horrid smells, but this one is unlike anything else you’ve encountered. The wound pulses with each ragged breath the animal takes, oozing some kind of mustard colored pus. Rebecca begins her work gently, trying her best to not agitate the area any further. You watch carefully, taking note of how hard it is for the animal to breathe. You imagine what it would be like if you were superhuman. Maybe you could heal the whale with a single touch, then push it back into the ocean where it could return to its family. The thought makes your lip quiver.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you say, taking a step back. You’re not quick to sicken at the sight of a wound, but this one feels different.

The whale is innocent, a bystander in the grand scheme of things. It lives in the ocean, far removed from the sins of society, unbothered by the happenings of the land. And yet, here it lies, half dead and suffering a far greater fate than it deserves. You’re not sure how long whales live, but this one looks young enough, only to be cut down in its prime.

You back away further from the whale, watching through squinted eyes as Rebecca collects a sample from its still writhing flesh. Your mouth suddenly waters, and you feel like you’re spinning. You plop onto the sand, pain racing up your spine. The wind blows again, kicking up sand and tossing it over the drying skin of the whale. This isn’t right. This whale shouldn’t be here, but it is due to the cruelty of man. You put your head in your hands.

“You okay?” Rebecca asks, approaching you. She’s sealing the vial into a bag. “We can take a break,”

You want to run far away, maybe to a mountain. You’re sure that even if you did, evil would find you there too.

“No,” you muster, trying to return to your feet. “There’s another whale a few yards away, we should look at that one before we go anywhere,”

Rebecca nods, falling into step beside you as you approach yet another whale. This one is dead, has been for a few days. You wonder why no one has been out to do anything about it. You wonder if they would’ve just let it rot on the beach. Given the weather, you’re almost positive there’s not a crowd approaching the shore any time soon, but would they have just left it here? Let it rot until the elements gave it an unceremonious grave?

There’s a large open wound on the face of this one, picked away by the wildlife in the area. The rotting flesh is barely hanging on, decaying before your eyes. You’re not even sure it knew it was dying. Maybe it did; maybe that’s why it decided to throw itself onto the beach. You try not to think about it.

You spend the next few hours pouring over files of similar incidents from the past few years. There’s been few reports of similar things happening, but the ones that have been reported are eerily parallel happenings. Two or three dead or dying whales hauling themselves onto the beach, covered in indeterminate wounds, and clinging to life. Only a few have been confirmed as sea wildlife interaction or accidental man-made byproduct spills, but there are others that have no concrete explanation.

“We’re gonna be taking off here soon,” Rebecca says, reading over your shoulder. You nod. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, loosing a sigh. “The whales are making me sad. It could’ve been prevented,”

Rebecca sits in the chair next to you. You look at her. She looks tired, like this is taking a toll on her too. “It could’ve. But that’s why we’re here. We can prevent it from happening again,”

You nod. “That’s why we’re here,” you repeat. She offers you a small smile, leaving you again to your notes.

It’s two hours later before you’re back home. You feel heavy, like the whales themselves are tied to your ankles as you climb the stairs to your apartment. When you enter, the lights are off. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You remove everything on your body; keys and wallet find their home in a dish near the door, jacket returns to its home on the hook, and your shoes slip off easily next to the couch. You feel slightly lighter having taken off your armor, but a shower would really do you good. You’re sure you smell like whale guts.

Wordlessly, you gather a pile of clothes and head to the bathroom. It’s then that you finally catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks have filled out in the last few weeks, and you’re sure you have Leon to thank for always bringing you snacks and lunch. Your skin is a bit brighter, your eyes less hollow. You smooth a hand over features you don’t entirely recognize. 

You’d always vowed that you would never let a partner change you. Too many times, you’d lost parts of yourself to people who didn’t deserve them, and you always told yourself that it would never happen again. But this time feels different. Leon has changed you. You’re certain of that. But he has changed you in a good way. He’s made you excited for things, even simple things like showing him a movie he’s never seen before. He’s made you lust for life in a way you never have before. Maybe changing for your partner isn’t the worst fate, especially if you’re changing like this.

Suddenly, the whales don’t hang as heavily on your shoulders anymore. They’re behind on the beach where you left them, not discarded, but not following either. You acknowledge their pain, feel it as deeply in your chest as if you had been struck, but you won’t let yourself carry it anymore. With a strange sense of renewal, you step into the shower. When you emerge, you hear rustling in your kitchen. Fear strikes your body for a few moments as you quietly dress. As silent as you can manage, you creep into the hallway.

Light from the kitchen streaks across the otherwise dark floor, a shadow of a body moving around. You approach. You’re not entirely surprised to find Leon standing in the light of your fridge, blinking at you as he uncorks a bottle of wine. You let out a breath, taking the bottle from him.

“That was a gift, you know,” you say, placing the bottle back in its place on the top shelf. “I’m saving it for a special occasion,”

“My return is not special enough?” he asks. You glare at him, and he responds with a grin. “You wound me,”

Without much warning, he scoops you into his arms. His embrace is warm, comforting. The wet strands of your hair are sticking to your skin, something that would normally be uncomfortable, but you can’t find it in you to care.

“How’d it go?” you ask, voice muffled by the down of his jacket.

You feel him shrug. “As well as it could have,”

You nod. “I dissected whales today,” you say, cringing.

“How’d it go?”

“As well as it could have,”

He winces when you pull away. You’re sure he didn’t mean for you to catch the action, but you do anyway. You frown at him, a knowing glint in your eyes. He sighs, struggling to free himself from his jacket. Your breath hitches when he pulls his shirt up gingerly to reveal a gash along his rib cage. It’s angry and red, cutting toward his sternum.

“Do you have a death wish?” you ask, glancing up at him. He’s frowning, cheeks reddened from your disappointment.

“No,” he says, returning his shirt to its rightful place. “I didn’t think it was as bad as it is,”

You scrub a hand down your features. “Go sit. I’ll patch you up,”

He nods, hesitating to move. You blink at him. “Can I at least have a kiss?”

Against your better judgement, you smile, leaning up to kiss him quickly before shoving him through the archway of your tiny kitchen. You can almost hear the grin splitting across his lips. With a sigh, you follow him. He takes a seat on your couch with some difficulty. You frown at him.

“I can’t believe you,” you mutter, pulling a first aid kit out of a cabinet. “Did you see anyone? One of the onsite med staff? Anyone at all?”

Leon’s features twist up in embarrassment at your scolding. Sheepishly, he says, “No. I had other things to worry about,”

You let out a long sigh, pulling on a pair of gloves. A sudden bout of nerves coats your bones, making your hands shake a bit. You’ve never been nervous about your ability to heal people. Even Leon. You don’t like that you suddenly are. With a quick shake of your head, you turn to him. He pulls his shirt up for you to examine his wound. It’s not too deep, which is good considering it goes right over important organs. It is bleeding a lot, though, which is worrisome. You get to work cleaning it. Leon lets out a hiss of pain as you run an alcohol pad over it.

“You reap what you sow,” you mumble, a small admonishment for coming back to you broken and beaten. “What was your plan? Drink casually until I noticed you were bleeding?”

“More or less,” he says through gritted teeth.

You furrow your brow and feel your mouth twist up, wrinkling your nose. “Not cool,”

After you’ve cleaned away as much of the blood as you can, you change out gloves and prepare to stitch him up.

“This will hurt,” you say, not giving much more warning before sinking the needle into his flesh. He tenses up.

“What happened to your bedside manner?” he asks. You huff a laugh.

“That’s reserved for people who deserve it, Kennedy,” you say. “Besides, you like me better this way. You know I’m not nice to you,”

As you tighten your stitch work, he groans. “A little faux kindness wouldn’t hurt,”

You shrug, finishing up his stitches. “I need you to stand,”

He groans again, this time a little more dramatically, but does as you ask. It’s not without difficulty, but he’s eventually able to get to his feet. You begin to wrap the area in gauze, passing the roll between your hands behind his back. It’s a shoddy job, but it does what it needs to.

“There,” he says. “Good as new,”

“Don’t do that again,” you say, frowning at him. “Believe it or not, I don’t appreciate sewing you up,”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I hereby swear to never show up to your place injured ever again,”

“Cross your heart,”

“Hope to die,”

“Go shower,” you say, giving his chest a little shove. “You stink,”

He presses a quick kiss to the crown of your head before disappearing into your room. You sigh, looking around at the whirlwind of medical supplies scattered around you. After a hard blink, you start to clean up. It’s a quick process, with you fleeting between the kitchen and the living room as you dispose of everything. Finally, you’re able to collapse on the couch. You scrub a hand over your face, feeling suddenly exhausted from everything. What you wouldn’t give for a week’s vacation.

“You need to tell your landlord that you’re not getting hot water,” Leon calls from the hallway. He emerges a second later, running a towel over his half dry hair. He’s wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of sweats he left here the last time he ambushed you. “Also, stop leaving your spare key under the doormat. It’s not safe,”

“I don’t have anyone breaking in but you,” you say, exhaustion clogging your throat with a yawn.

“Still, I don’t like it,” he says, flopping onto the couch beside you. “It’s the first place I looked,”

You shrug, curling up onto the arm of the couch. You yawn again, this time louder, and settle in as best you can. You fall quickly into a dreamless sleep, one where you feel completely safe and comfortable.

You wake sometime later to your phone ringing. You groan, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Leon is asleep upright on the couch beside you, arm slung over his eyes. The other hand rests on your calf. At some point, he must’ve turned the TV on; it’s running some news cycle. You haul yourself up, searching for your phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice muffled by sleep.

“How quick can you get here?” Rebecca asks on the other end. You frown. “We have to go back,”

“To the whales?” you ask, rubbing one of your eyes. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you on the way,” she says. “How quick can you get here?”

You glance at the clock. It’s nearing four in the morning. “Probably a half hour?”

“Good,” she says. “Bring Leon. See you soon,”

With that, the line goes dead. You sigh, flipping your phone closed. With a stretch, you return to the couch where Leon is already watching you.

“Time to go to work,” you say. He nods wordlessly.

By the time you get to the helipad, the sun is starting to peek over the horizon. Leon marches ahead of you, both bags slung over his shoulders. You diverge to find Rebecca tapping her foot anxiously near the door.

“What’s going on?” you ask, voice nearly drowned out by the blades of the helicopter beginning to whirl.

“No time,” she says. “Let’s go,”

You follow her to the helicopter, hopping in beside Leon, who hands you a headset wordlessly. His hard exterior has shifted into place, something that makes your heart sink. You’re in the air minutes later, flying high above the helipad. The sun glares at you as it rises, as if it’s angry that you’re up and moving before it is.

“Whatever got those whales is spreading to people on the coast,” Rebecca says, pulling a file from her bag to hand to you. “We received this late last night,”

You skim over the file, Leon leaning over to read over your shoulder. Sure enough, there’s at least twenty reported cases since yesterday. Your shoulders deflate as you read. This infection seems different from the last one.

“Is anyone dead?” you ask, looking up at Rebecca. Her mouth hardens into a line, and you have your answer.

“There’s cadavers ready for your examination,” she says instead. You nod.

“I want to look at their brains,” you say. “And their hearts,”

“Probably a good call,” she says. “We don’t have anything back on the whales yet, so don’t even ask. The lab’s been swarmed with shit since last night,”

You sigh. “Great. So what should we expect when we land?”

“Hell,”

A little over two hours later, and your feet touch down on the uneven terrain of the land meeting beach. Tents have been constructed, which always seems to surprise you. You trudge on, heading toward the medical tent without a word. It’s chaos inside, doctors rushing between half dead and writing patients. You feel your stomach churn. Someone tosses a box of gloves at you, which you barely catch, and hollers at you to help. Wordlessly, you join the fray. 

For what seems like hours, you bounce between patients. Some are more conscious than others, while others seem completely normal. You can’t figure out what’s causing anything. Everything seems to be random; patients are screaming because their hands are decaying before their eyes while others only have a mild headache. Finally, you’re able to step away. You’re pulled aside to autopsy a body found a few miles out from the beach.

Whoever this was died a horrible, brutal death. Their skin is gray and splotchy, with blisters covering most of the area. Some of them have popped and are oozing a horrid smelling pus that almost makes you vomit.  If you had to picture the word death, this would be it. With as much courage as you can muster, you begin to slice into the body. It opens easily, skin having lost its ability to resist damage. The bones inside have been eaten away so badly that you’re not even sure how it still has any shape. Muscles are gooey under your fingers as you root around inside the chest cavity. When you finally find the heart, you almost burst into tears.

It’s just a lump of liquid muscle, a shell of what it once was. Upon inspection, you find that the chambers inside have been eroded into one giant one, one incapable of pumping blood. Every piece you find makes everything more puzzling. This heart hasn’t been operational in some time. Something else was fueling the body.

“You’re sure these people are moving around right up until death?” you ask a doctor near you.

“Positive,” he says grimly. “I wouldn’t believe it either had I not seen it myself,”

You sigh. “Got it,”

You return the heart to its home, moving down the body to get to its head. You dismantle it quickly, desperate to get some kind of answer from the brain. Fortunately, it’s mostly intact. However, you notice that the spinal cord has been eaten away slightly. You crack it open, interested in what the inside looks like. As you do, a lesion pops, splattering your face with whatever pus lives within. You sputter, trying to wipe it away on instinct.

“Stop!” someone shouts, rushing up to you with some kind of towel or something. You can’t see. Whatever you’re coated in has begun to seep into your eyes. Finally, they’re able to mostly clear it away.

“Did any of it get in your mouth?” the doctor from earlier asks. You blink at him, still holding the brain.

“I-I don’t know,” you say. Your limbs are rigid, locked in place in panic and fear. “I don’t know,”

“Goddamnit,” he says, wrenching the brain from your hands.

In an instant, you’re being stripped of your gloves and coat and shoved into a plastic room. You can’t even discern one moment from the next.

“What the hell is going on?” you shout. The doctor looks at you sympathetically.

“Until we can be sure that you aren’t infected, you have to stay here,” he says. You blink at him.

“And if I am?” you ask. His eyes darken.

“Then only God can help you,”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Fear locks its hands around your throat. Your hands find your hair, pulling aimlessly at the strands as your panic begins to take over. You can feel your breathing quicken, your chest heaving. You’ve cheated death so many times, so many infections and cases that you’ve successfully avoided. And for what? You feel like that whale on the beach, the one that was still fighting. It was waiting for death. It was waiting for the sea to reclaim its body. You feel like you can feel the tide at your ankles now.

You turn and vomit onto your shoes, your nearly empty stomach only giving you bits of bile. Your throat runs dry and raw. You just have to sit and wait, and that feels worse than death.

[mayajadewrites]

I Wish I Hated You (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?

warnings: eventual smut, this is a slow burn

ao3

C H A P T E R T H R E E: K E Y

You look around your entire apartment to see if Levi left the spare key you gave him. 

Nothing.

You sigh and admit defeat as you sip on your coffee which was made perfectly made. 

The bagel is warm so it couldn't have been long since Levi stopped by. Reluctantly, you take a bite of the bagel your ex boyfriend brought you. This too is perfectly made.

"He must've gotten these from the shop by his house." You say to yourself as you scroll through your phone, trying to kill time. You find Hange's name and text her to pick you up to bring you to your car.

Hange: Don't you have your car back already?

You: Um no... I woke up 15 minutes ago.

Hange: I helped Levi bring it to your house like 45 minutes ago. I thought you knew.

You move your curtain out of the way and see your car perfectly parked in your assigned spot. It looks like he got it washed, too. 

You're fuming. Who does this man think he is? 

You: I need you to give me my key back.

Levi: Why don't you start the conversation off with 'Thank you Levi for getting my car for me, getting it washed, and grabbing me breakfast'. 

You: I don't need to be nice to you. Give me my key back.

Levi: Ok but I made copies.

Of fucking course he did.

You: What is your deal? We're not together anymore so why do you need a key to my house? I gave you back your key.

Levi: You can get another key if you want.

You: That is not the point. The point is we broke up. So we don't need to be in each others lives at all anymore.

Levi: I never said I didn't want you in my life.

Tsk. The nerve of this man. 

You: You made it clear that you didn't want something long term with me. So what was the point of wasting both of our times?

Levi didn't respond. Ghosted. Typical for him. 

- 

The next day you have the opening shift - 6am to 2 pm. You prefer the morning shifts but the wake ups never get easier. 

You help serve the customers and make coffee - thankfully your shop is locally owned and doesn't get terribly busy. You also get to see the same faces every day which is comforting. 

When you look up after making a matcha latte, you see Mikasa Ackerman. Levi's cousin who you took on as your little sister. After the break up, you swore you would stay in her life. Your face lights up when her eyes meet yours and you run around the counter to give her a hug.

"Mikasa! God I missed you!" You cup her face with your hands. "You look good. How's life? How's Eren?" 

"I missed you too." Mikasa smiled. "I'm good and Eren is good. We would love to go to dinner with you soon!" 

"Okay, but your cousin is not invited." You half laugh, mostly because he might actually show up.

"Absolutely not." She grabbed her latte. "I've gotta run to work, it was nice seeing you! I'll text you!" 

The rest of your workday went as normal. No Levi interruptions. 

"Have a good day!" You wave goodbye to your boss and open the door to leave.

There he is, leaning against your car. 

You swat at him to get off your car. "Don't you have a job?" 

"I do. I'm on my lunch." Levi moved to the left of where he just was. 

"Okay... so go get something for lunch. I'm leaving." 

"I wanted to get lunch with you. We should talk." 

"Oh now we should talk." You raise your arms. "Now Levi Ackerman is ready to talk. That's great, talk to a therapist." You slam your car door and start the engine.

"If I talk to a therapist can I take you to lunch?"

"No."

"I want us to be friends." Levi leaned into your car. You can't help but stare at his sculpted jawline and his jet black locks that cover one of his eyebrows. He definitely just got his undercut done. 

"We can't be friends." You snap yourself out of whatever trance you were in. "I don't need any more friends."

"You have 1 friend and that's Hange."

"And that's enough for me. Anything else?"

"We're gonna be friends." Levi tapped the car window. "You don't really have a choice."

"You're like a roach." You press the button for your window to close. Levi's still staring at you intently. He never answered your text but felt so compelled to show up to your job and beg you to be friends? 

- 

As days go by, you feel the hole in your heart that Levi left start to close ever so slightly. You're nowhere near rebuilt, but you're healing. You spend your time working, writing, reading, and trying your best to avoid seeing Levi. He's stopped his random visits and hasn't text you, which feels... right. You're not supposed to talk to your ex boyfriend after you break up. Especially when you didn't want to break up but HE didn't want to commit long term.

...Right?

[gnreadergames]

We can be heroes, just for one day

Pairing: Clark Kent X GN!Reader

Clark and YN’s date is interrupted, forcing Clark to make a choice that could change his relationship with Y/N forever…

Content Warnings: some wine mentions, mentions of a gun, some light kissing, mostly fluff and flirting

A/N: enjoy some short fluff I wrote while being utterly and horribly sick last week. Clark deserves a little wine and a nice kiss.

Word count: 10,085

➽──────────────❥

As they sit hunched over your cluttered and cramped desk in the dim newsroom of The Daily Planet, they will themselves to stay awake.

The aroma of stale coffee and old bagels lingers in the air, a bitter reminder of what’s waiting for them in the break room and their lazy leftovers at home. With a defeated sigh, they contemplate going for another cup of the watered down brew that’s called “coffee” around here. It’s the only caffeine they can get without actually leaving the office besides lukewarm energy drinks in the vending machine.

Their saving grace comes in the form of Clark, who slides the warm cup of some obscurely named café across their desk. “You looked like you could use it,” he smiles, rendering them speechless, but they’re thankful all the same

They perk up with a smile.

“Thank you Clark.”

They found the man charming, although he was less authoritative than his peers and less outspoken, they found his intellect and his shy sense of humor fascinating.

The two of them had talked for a while last month at the office Christmas party, and ever since Y/N had noticed that Clark and them had been spending their free time around the office doing small favors for one another, such as bringing each other coffee.

They notice him drinking from his own cup of coffee, still smiling as he turns to look at them. He takes his time drinking it, but his eyes meet theirs again as he sets the cup down, his smile bright and endearing. "So have you been enjoying the holiday break?" He asks, not wanting to make eye contact in case he ends up staring.

“It’s been good.” They nod. It’s been quiet in their house since their ex left right before Christmas, and for a fleeting moment it dampens their mood, but then the next sip of good coffee that their work buddy Clark brought them cheers them up.

“How has yours been? See any family?” They ask, they know Clark is a big family man and cares a lot for his parents, so you can only imagine he’s been visiting those friends he’s always saying he’s out with and his family at his home home.

"It was great, I had the chance to spend time with my parents and I..."

Clark's voice trailed off as he realized he was about to give away too much personal information. He had never spoken about his family before to anyone besides those close to him, at least not at length, but talking to them felt safe and... different. He wanted them to know they were more than a co-worker, despite the fact he was still figuring out what they were.

"Nothing too exciting" he finished, feeling himself smile uncontrollably once again.

“Well I’m glad you got some rest,” Y/N smiled. They wanted to touch base with Clark about what exactly they were, never quite touching the lines between acquaintances and friends…

But before Y/N could do anything, Clark spoke.

“Listen,” he said, voice low. “Would you maybe…want to get a drink with me after work sometime?” He asked, leaning against their desk.

The two of them stood in a comfortable silence, each aware of how much rides on this simple decision.

"Will you join me?" He asked, looking into their eyes once again.

"Just a drink, let's keep it casual"

They swallowed. It was so soon after their ex had left them…especially for her. They weren’t sure if they were ready yet but….

It was Clark.

They trusted Clark.

“Sure” they said. Smiling softly up at him, they lifted their cup in a silly gesture of cheers. “Toast to it?” They asked.

There it was, he had his answer. He was filled with elation and relief in that moment.

"Of course" he replied, clinking their cups together and taking a sip. They were going on a date, this was really happening.

Clark's heart soared as he smiled back at them, it was going to take time for things to develop, but at the very least, he felt confident they had taken another big step.

-

Time that day had seemed to go ever so slowly in the office. Y/N kept finding themself staring at the clock, waiting for the time when they could clock out and go home to get ready for their meeting with Clark.

Their date with Clark.

The hours dragged on, time felt like it was moving at a glacial pace, but finally, they were able to clock out and head home to get ready.

The prospect of the date had them feeling a mix of emotions, mostly excitement but there was also a hint of slight hesitation, not due to Clark but rather the recent heartbreak.

Time to get ready and hopefully try to relax a little.

They slowly prepared themselves the best they could. After a long shower with their best products, they put on their best collared shirt and a jacket, and their very best pair of jeans that hugged their ass just right.

Maybe that last part was a little vain. Y/N didn’t mind.

They then sprayed their best cologne on them, especially in the crook of their neck and around their jaw. They wanted to be tempting, even if nothing happened tonight.

Which they would also be okay with, they knew Clark liked to do things the old fashioned way sometimes. You could tell he liked to take things slow, but there was a spark, a hint of passion underneath it all.

It would take more time, but it was worth the wait.

Y/N went to the bar they agreed upon at promptly 8. The front looked like a romantic cigar lounge, the inside lit with a warm lighting and deep red interior with dark wood. Y/N liked this.

People on the street milled about, and it was still chilly since it was mid January now, the Christmas lights still wrapped around the light pole outside. They began to look for Clark to arrive, as he was almost always punctual.

Clark had made sure to dress appropriately, he had taken his time, but he was ready for this date. The night and the cool air was a good excuse to wear a coat and Clark was prepared to play the part of the gentleman for every second of it.

It was easy to spot the bar, located in the heart of the town; it was bustling with life and energy. He looks for Y/N and sees them looking out for him, their hair shines in the light and he smiles to himself.

Y/N suddenly spotted a tall but non-imposing figure in the crowd. They were always surprised how much Clark could blend in one minute and stand out the next. It was like a superpower or something.

“Clark!” They called, waving over a few couples walking past. They locked eyes with the man and smiled as he crossed the sidewalk to meet them at the entrance.

Clark's heart raced a little as they locked eyes, he didn't say anything at first, simply choosing to look at them, their eyes glowing in the lighting.

He looks them up and down, appreciating the time they obviously spent getting ready.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long?"

”No, don’t worry you- you didn’t,” Y/N shivers. They can’t tell whether it’s the cold air or the fact that Clark is closer than usual right now but they feel all warm despite the snow on the ground. “Should we go in?” They asked, cocking their head towards the bouncer at the door.

"We should," Clark replies, moving to guide them inside. He notices the shiver and his heart flutters slightly, he's going to have to be careful. His intention was to take it slow, but with the chemistry between them, his mind kept wondering what it would feel like to kiss them.

‘Calm down, it's been hours not months, one step at a time’ he reminds himself.

As they approached the Boucher side by side, Y/N handed over their ID. They watched the bouncer scan it, scan their face, and scan their age before slowly handing it back to them with a nod.

Quietly, Y/N stepped to the side.

Clark then stepped up, they could see the bouncer inspect his ID, and as he read Clark’s name his eyebrows raised.

“Clark Kent?” The man said. “You’re that one journalist! I’ve read your articles.”

Clark smiled and nodded at the bouncer, he knew his fame would be followed him around, but he didn't mind too much. It was always surprising to see how many men and women knew him, and it always gave him a little ego boost.

"It's my hobby" he responded, before gently guiding Y/N inside with him, hoping he wasn't intimidating them too much.

Y/N smiled, sticking a little closer to Clark’s side. Suddenly, they swallowed their nerves and wrapped their hands around one of Clark’s arms at his side.

“Impressive,” Y/N said as Clark led them both further inside.

The interior of the bar was as expected from the impression outside. It was dim but intimate. There was a short but steady melody of jazz coming from a live band in a corner of the bar towards the front window in a pit like stage.

Clark smiled as he felt their hand wrap around his arm, it was the perfect amount of familiar but without being too much, he liked that.

That was a great atmosphere for a date, the live band playing a mellow and seductive song added the perfect element to the evening.

It was almost like they belonged together, even at this point.

"You know, when I'm not being a journalist I'm just a regular guy" he says, hoping they don't see him as anything other than who he was.

Y/N quirked and eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you find us a seat and tell me more about what you do besides journalism,” Y/N smiled. “No other dark serial killer personalities I should be worried about though, right?”

Clark laughed softly, he couldn't resist laughing. It was funny to imagine himself with multiple dark personalities, and he loved that they went back to their conversation from the office.

"Well, there's no serial killer...that you know of," he replied, not able to help himself from teasing them a little.

Dark secret personality number two: Unwitting flirt

Y/N laughed softly. They didn’t know Clark was a tease.

They tucked that information away for another time.

Clark led them both to a booth in a corner, close enough that the jazz was a nice background to their conversation but not loud enough to interrupt.

A waiter came by shortly to get their order.

“What will it be?” The girl said in her neat black and white uniform with her pencil and pad.

Y/N looked at Clark. “I don’t know what’s good here. What are you getting?” They asked shyly.

Clark sat beside them in the booth, he loved how close they were in that small little moment. The dim lighting made it even better, like he was sitting with his significant other. It felt nice and he was a little nervous.

When the waiter came he replied with his order, his voice slightly deeper than normal. "I'll be having the salmon with white wine please."

He turned his attention to them. Hmm, I wonder what that cute little mind of yours is going to order? He thought.

”Can I have the steak with the red wine please, then?” Y/N said after a moment of consideration. Then, they glanced over at Clark staring at them and blushed.

The girl took their order and hurried away to serve more people. They would give her a big tip after this.

“So, Mr. Not a Serial Killer, what do you do in your spare time?” Y/N asked, propping their chin on their hand with their elbow resting on the table near the tea light candle in the center. They locked eyes.

Clark chuckled as he saw them blush, it was too cute to resist, and he enjoyed that he made them blush.

He watched the waiter leave with their attention, but quickly returned it back to Y/N. He couldn’t help but admire how beautiful they were, it was almost hard not to stare.

"I play basketball at the local rec centre, read a lot and go to the gym” he said as part of his reply, he added a bit of a smirk as he did.

“Oh that’s nice!” Y/N said.

The waiter came back with both of their wines respectively and placed them in front of them both. Clark took a small sip of his after swirling it so Y/N did the same.

It was sweet and heady, and went straight to their head. They shouldn’t have more than 2 of these tonight…probably.

“I read a lot too…” Y/N said, placing the wine glass back on the table.

He took his glass and sipped from it, looking up and watching as he saw Y/N take a sip of theirs. The sweet taste was nice on the pallets, and the feeling of the slight intoxication that it gave them was pleasant as well.

"Oh yeah? What kind of books? I like action, thrillers and mystery," he asked, his voice slightly slowed but still under control, he didn't want to seem like a drunkard right now by downing wine too fast, even if he couldn’t get drunk.

Y/N smiled.

“What a coincidence, I love a good thriller and mystery.” They suddenly leaned forward, face lit lowly by the small candle, “But I’m also a fan a good romance.”

Y/N smiled guiltily and pulled back to watch Clark.

Clark's voice caught in his throat like a school boy, his face flushed and his heart was pounding. How could Y/N have just hit him with that information so suddenly, his heart was thumping against his chest.

He wasn't sure how to respond, he had hoped there might be some hint of interest but he wasn't sure enough to try yet.

You idiot, he thought to himself, you'll ruin this if you don't play it perfectly.

The waiter came back with their food soon, and the mood cooled down. They both ate in relative happiness, occasionally taking sips of their wines.

Y/N was obviously becoming more affected than Clark was. But of course, they didn’t know Clark wasn’t affected by human alcohol like a normal person.

The jazz was nice as a filler to no conversation at the moment.

They finished their meals and sat back, ready to talk. Y/N smiled, finishing their last sip of wine.

Clark finished off his meal with ease, he wasn't an exceptionally hungry person, but he was a little surprised by Y/N’s reaction towards the wine. They made a cute lightweight.

He finished his food, setting his utensils down as he settled back in his seat. His attention was still on them, and he could tell the wines had affected something as he saw them smirk and finish their glass. He was a little nervous to ask them out on a second date but he knew he was going to.

”So, farm-boy,” Y/N slightly drawled, “Tell me about yourself.” They set the glass on the table and smirked.

Farm Boy? He hadn't expected that line, it caught him off guard, and his blush was definitely visible now. He could imagine his face was red as a tomato by this point. As they finished speaking though, he had to regain his composure.

He laughed quietly to himself, before answering them. "What exactly would you like to know?"

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N asked, genuinely confused for a moment, but Clark didn’t seem to pick up on it.

Thankfully, at that moment, the band began to play another song that was low and brassy, with a sultry tone.

Y/N nodded along for a moment, enjoying the feeling the wine gave them.

“Anyways,” they continued, “you like to read huh? I know you have family, tell me about them. Your mom and dad? The farm? What’s it like being a pampered only child?” They asked.

Clark laughed at first as he took no offense to their tone, it was a bit sharp and teasing, but Clark knew they meant no ill will by it and enjoyed the flirting that was happening between them both. The change of music also provided a nice cover and backdrop to their conversation, which was nice.

"Oh so you want the full origin story?" He asked teasingly, looking at them and raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah I think I do,” they said.

The waitress came by to refill their wine.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yourrssss…” Y/N teased as they drew their index finger around the rim of their wine glass.

Clark tried to not appear too affected by their teasing but it was no use he was already under their spell, he had to bite his lip to not smile or even laugh at their words.

Clark was tempted to continue with the flirting but held himself back for the sake of maintaining a little bit of control. Instead of going straight into the full origin story he decided to meet them halfway.

"Okay how about we flip a little script?" He says looking them square in the eyes.

”What does that mean?” Y/N asked. There was a very good chance Clark was going to ask for a juicy secret in return for something perfectly mundane.

Clark couldn't help but smile as Y/N asked the question, they were clearly curious now to what he had in mind, and the mystery of it intrigued them.

"Hmm how can I explain this so it makes sense?..."

A light bulb went off above Clark's head as he got an idea to help them understand.

"What if I ask you a question instead?"

“Go ahead.” Y/N said. They were intrigued as to where this was going.

He took a moment to think, his mind running a million miles per hour right now after the wine and their continued flirting.

"Okay, well let's keep this short and sweet, what is your most embarrassing memory?"

Clark thought this would be an easy one to start with, it was a safe bet for him, and also he was secretly hoping it would help get to know a bit more about them. His mind was filled with anticipation and hope.

They flushed harder, and this time it wasn’t the wine.

They couldn’t think of anything for a moment, but then- it hit them.

Could they tell Clark this?

Really?

Well…

They sipped their wine ever so slightly again. This was the best answer they had.

“Oh god…” they bemoaned. “I guess…” Y/N sat backwards in the seat for a moment and took a big sip of their wine, preparing. They sighed.

“Don’t tell anybody this, okay?” They said sitting forward suddenly leaning close to Clark. “When I was a teenager, I had this…boy on my block. We were childhood friends but we hadn’t talked for a few years. Then, when I graduated, all of the sudden at my graduation party he showed up uninvited and dragged me…” Y/N swallowed. The alcohol was getting to them, “…he dragged me to a bathroom upstairs away from everyone and uh…that was my first time. Then I never saw him again after that party but I think about him every now and then and I also think about how I had to use my sister's makeup to cover my hickies in 10 minutes before going down to cut cake.”

Clark's breath caught in his chest as he heard their story, the way Y/N was sharing something so personal and a bit embarrassing was extremely attractive to him. He felt his heart beating faster and couldn't stop staring into their eyes.

As they finished their story he gently grabbed their hand to hold it and support them, it wasn't just for them though, it was also to keep him from reacting more than he normally would. He smiled softly at them as they ended their story.

“Don’t laugh!” Y/N giggled. They couldn’t help it, it was a pretty pathetic and embarrassing story. But now, Clark was at their mercy.

“So, now you owe me one question.” Y/N said.

Clark raised an eyebrow. They were now over the small candle of the table.

“What’s your biggest fantasy?” Y/N asked, quietly.

Clark was tempted to say some joke about his biggest fantasy involving them in the most romantic way possible, but that was too predictable and he realized there was no need to. Instead his mind went straight to an actual fantasy of his.

"Oh boy, my biggest fantasy" he said with a smirk as he thought about it, it was a lot less embarrassing than theirs but still a bit embarrassing.

"Ahh...well, you're not going to like it."

Y/N wasn’t so sure. “Go on!” They said, insistently. “Tell me all the little details, you owe me.” They slurred, crossing their arms against their chest, humpfing loudly.

Clark thought about sharing his fantasy, they had shared theirs, so it was only fair he did the same. And it was slightly cute how much they wanted to know.

Clark smiled, he was enjoying their flirty demeanor, that slur and them crossing their arms, it made him chuckle. He was finding it way more entertaining than he should have, but he couldn't resist, even if was going to result in embarrassment. He was being led down a path he couldn't say no to.

Clark leaned forward slightly, so they could hear him better.

Y/N leaned closer so they could hear at all.

Clark was close enough to almost feel their breath as he spoke.

"So for me, my fantasy is basically…to have a family..."

He smiled nervously, trying to keep his cool but it wasn't working, he felt his face become flushed from their closeness.

"That's it. Plain and simple, my biggest fantasy is to have a family of my own one day."

Y/N’s nose wrinkled as they smiled wider and wider before laughing loudly.

“Really?” They said, catching their breath. But after a moment, they considered it. “Actually…that’s really sweet. You really are a sweet guy.” Y/N said leaning back in.

Clark couldn't stop the smile forming on his face as they laughed, the sound of their laughter was soothing to him that even their laugh was attractive to him.

When they finally leaned away, he did as well, but it was impossible to hide his blushing. The whole interaction he was caught in a trance with how sweet and endearing they looked.

He wanted to reply to their compliment, but all the was coming out was a soft, awkward chuckle.

”You know what mine is?” Y/N said quietly.

Clark leaned in, intrigued suddenly.

“Affordable Housing” Y/N giggled.

Clark rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding!” They smiled and played with the stem of Clark’s wine glass. “It’s actually to be content. Don’t ask me what that means, I’m not sure I’ll know what it is until I find it, but I think it involves someone special and a steady paycheck.” Y/N sighed.

Clark laughed at their play on words, and even their follow up explanation. They were sweet and playful, and he was growing more fond of them with each interaction. Y/N mentioned something he could agree with, a steady paycheck and having someone special in his life would definitely make him content.

Clark leaned forward slightly, his voice becoming softer, more genuine as he replied to them.

"I can understand what you mean, I think the same too. Especially the second part."

”Yeah?” Y/N said. “I think you’re doing pretty good for yourself Mr. Clark Kent getting recognized by the bouncer and is friends with Louis Lane herself” they rolled their eyes playfully.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, they were right, he was doing pretty good for himself, but he didn't feel like explaining it to them just yet. Not to mention the fact at he was enjoying their playful teasing, he actually loved it.

"I try." He says smilingly, "That doesn't mean I don't wish my life was a little more stable and less dramatic though."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” They sniffed the last half of their wine. “What do you do on the weekends besides read Sherlock and write amazing articles?” They sighed and their eyes moved up suddenly to look at Clark over their glass.

Clark was feeling comfortable enough with them now to share a little more about himself, after all they had just shared their deepest and embarrassing secret so it was only fair he also said more about himself too. And his answer wasn't much different from their initial assumption.

"On the weekends, I try to read as much as I can, I also enjoy watching documentaries and playing certain games here and there...and that's about it."

“So, I guess you really don’t have any secret B side personality you’re hiding from anybody, huh?” They asked.

Clark started to sweat. They needed to know about him…eventually, maybe just not right now.

Clark was caught off guard, they had read him like a book, he definitely didn't want to reveal too much about the double identity he led, but at the same time Y/N wasn't dumb, it'd be inevitable that they find out, unless he did something to prevent that.

Clark smiled nervously with a chuckle.

"I mean-" he starts to reply hesitantly and hesitatingly, he pauses for a second, he can't just reveal everything now.

"Not entirely."

Y/N smiled. “Well we all have secrets, Clark…” they teased.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure these things out about each other, huh?” Y/N looked at the band playing across the bar now.

Clark would tell them. Not now.

But definitely eventually.

“Maybe I’m the crazy serial killer,” Y/N said, unconvincingly, throwing their hands out half-heartedly and bearing their teeth.

Clark couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Y/N being a serial killer, especially when they bared their teeth. The image of that scene playing out was enough to make him chuckle loudly.

"I mean..." he starts, a sly smile on his face, "I haven't seen any evidence that disproves it, so you never know I suppose."

“Well, if I get caught, you can have the first interview with me in prison.” Y/N promised solemnly, with their hand over their heart slightly drunkenly.

“But I can’t promise I won’t eat your heart out first,” Y/N winked and slid a 20$ bill on the table as a tip to the waiter along with more cash for the payment.

Clark chuckled at the idea of interviewing them in prison, but it was all a nice image to paint.

"I look forward to interviewing you then, you can also count on me to bring you some real food besides me." He joked back, playing along with their teasing.

Clark was impressed by how generous they were with the tip, a sweet personality and generous too, he could definitely see why he was crushing on Y/N, his admiration was growing by the minute.

”We should go, it’s gonna snow harder soon.” Y/N said, slurring slightly. They tipped off the last half of their wine and Clark did the same. He still wasn’t affected by it, but Y/N was feeling warm and confident.

The outside of the bar was a bit colder than it was earlier. There was more snow on the ground, but just barely enough to crunch underfoot as they walked. Y/N clung onto Clark’s arm as they slowly sauntered towards both of their apartment buildings.

Clark was enjoying Y/N's affectionate behavior, the way they were clinging onto his arm, the fact that they were drunk and clingy was quite adorable to him. The whole scene was quite cute, it felt safe and comforting in a way he hadn't experienced a lot before. He enjoyed being here, if not for the weather, it'd almost be perfect. He was enjoying this, it was a lot nicer than he had expected.

The walk home was silent, besides Y/N’s occasional humming of a commercial jingle or show theme. Ever so often, Y/N would find the courage to grab Clark’s hand and drag him along confidently towards the end of whatever street they were walking on at the moment, almost skipping and twirling around happily.

Clark had to admit, their actions when they were drunk were cute and endearing, they were so carefree it was hard not to feel happy around them. They were also rather comfortable with being affectionate as well, which he loved a lot about them.

He continued to follow along the lead, but was occasionally tempted to lift Y/N up for more of a romantic carry, but he wanted them to be comfortable at the same time, as cute as they acted and their actions he didn't want to cross any boundaries.

As they got closer to their homes, they also reached a part of town that was dimly lit. They slowed down, Clark pulling the slightly less sober Y/N closer just to be safe.

He was glad he did, because as they tried to round a corner a man decided to test his luck and step out of the shadows with a gun pointed in their direction.

Suddenly, Y/N sobered up real quick.

Clark could see and feel the sudden jolt of cold reality for Y/N, the sobering and shock was a complete 180 from what was happening only a minute ago. Their whole mood and demeanor were almost instantly changed by the sight of the gun and they suddenly became scared and alert.

Clark instinctively pulled them tight and close to him, his body instinctually shielding them with little thought behind the action, he didn't like that his mind automatically assumed he would protect Y/N but knew it was the right thing to do regardless.

”Clark…” Y/N said, backing up slightly, gripping Clark’s arm.

Clark tried his best to calm Y/N down, by the sound of their voice he could tell they were scared and he tried his best to reassure them.

"I'm right here..."

Clark kept his grip firm around their arm while moving slightly in front of them, he couldn't stop the protective feeling towards them and the fear that took over. They were right there in front of him, the thought of anything happening to them was unthinkable for him.

“Wallet. Now. “ the man with the gun said. He was in a dark hoodie.

Y/N fumbled with their pockets. They had their wallet somewhere they swore.

Suddenly, they heard a step towards them, and the seconds slowed down into a quiet silence in time as Y/N watched the gun raise, Clark step further in front of them, and the muzzle flash.

There was a loud noise. And then silence.

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed, horrified.

In the clearing panic, Clark didn’t seem hurt, if anything, even more angry than before.

He rushed forward, surprising the man with the gun and jerking his arm so it was pinned and he could slam the guy against the nearest wall and knock him out.

Clark's reaction came as soon as they heard the step behind them and saw the gun raise, he moved on pure instinct, all thoughts of being careful and gentle leaving his mind instantly. He moved faster than he ever had before, his anger and a sudden violent urge to protect Y/N overtaking his entire being. He slammed the man against the wall with little difficulty and knocked him out. He had become almost robotic in his movements, acting purely on instinct and adrenaline.

Y/N was shaking with panic, adrenaline, and guiltily…excitement seeing Clark move like that.

“Are…” Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Are…you okay?” they asked Clark with wide, dilated eyes. They couldn’t see a mark on him despite a deep singe on the stomach of his sweater vest. It….

The bullet should’ve gone straight into him with a mark like that…

It was straight to the gut…

How?

Clark was breathing hard, his body was trembling slightly, he was a little out of breath for now he tried his best to stay put together and not show how affected he was. The adrenaline was starting to slow down in his system and leave him feeling exhausted after the sudden jolt.

He managed to give Y/N a small smile, their concern about him was endearing to him and the realization that they must've thought the worst was a bit heartbreaking. He was relieved to be standing here with them now though, safe and unharmed, that was all that mattered.

Y/N was glad to see that Clark was unharmed. But…more importantly, confused.

“Clark…” Y/N asked with a trembling voice, “How did you do that? How are you okay?”

Clark was still breathing hard, his body was feeling weak now that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. He decided to be honest when it came to their question.

"I'm...I'm not sure, I just...reacted and went off instinct." He replied softly, he could tell Y/N was still shaken up and he tried his best to steady his breathing and heart rate.

"Why, what did you see? Did anything happen to me?"

Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation and disbelief as they frantically stepped forward and grabbed the bottom of Clark’s vest, pulling it so he could see what they meant.

“That bullet should’ve killed you! It bounced off you like nothing!” Y/N yelped.

Clark was taken a little aback by the sudden and strong reaction from Y/N, but he couldn't blame them at all. If he was in their position he'd be freaking out also. He looked down at the vest and realized there wasn't even a scratch on the skin beneath it.

Shit.

They knew.

“Are…” Y/N behind to realize that Clark’s glasses had gotten cracked when he had shoved the attacker against the wall, and they become concerned about the glass around his eyes, they grab the broken frames and pull them away from Clark.

Suddenly, Clark becomes very familiar when he straightens up a little.

“Oh my…Oh my god you’re…” Y/N shakes, Clark panics.

Shit.

He did not want them to find out this way.

”You’re Superman!” Y/N squeaked.

Clark was startled by Y/N's realization and sudden realization. He couldn't believe they figured him out with such ease, he had been hiding his identity from them for so long, and now all of it was laid bare at this moment. He was in too deep now, Y/N already knew the truth, he was powerless to stop them from knowing that now.

Clark had thought the situation was under control, but he quickly realized it wasn't. There was no way he could spin this to make it seem like he wasn't Superman.

”I…” Y/N swallows dryly. “I have…I have so many questions.”

Y/N stepped forward, dropping the broken frames onto the snowy ground.

Clark felt dizzy. He couldn’t tell whether it was adrenaline or giddiness at Y/N being this close to him that was doing it to him.

“What’s it like?” Y/N asked, in a whispered tone.

Clark cocked his head.

Clark could feel his heart beating faster as they were now closer to him, he felt slightly overwhelmed by how close they were to him, but the words coming from their mouth were more concerning to him now.

The fact that they knew his secret, and now wanted to know more about him, Clark was panicking a little on the inside, he didn't really know what to tell them or what it would be like to talk about his identity. He could trust them, he knew that already, he just had to come to terms with the fact that they knew who he was.

Y/N’s left hand came up to reach the edge of Clark’s vest around his arm underneath his armpit, his white dress shirt was soaked and his jacket was on the ground nearby.

“I’m sorry if I’m being to forward I- I just-” Y/N stammered. “I wanted to know you before but- but now?” Y/N laughs a little breathlessly, leaning more into Clark.

“You’re incredible.”

Clark's heart started pounding faster the closer they came, Clark also felt rather hot and flushed from the heat emanating between their bodies, and the excitement from what was happening in front of him.

He smiled gently at the compliment, their admiration and affection was something so new to him, it was a lot to take in but he understood how they felt, what was he was feeling now was new and exciting for him too. He was glad they wanted to get to know him deeper and not push him away now.

“Glad this isn’t a dealbreaker for you…” he said quietly, shoulders untensing ever so slightly.

“Are you kidding?” Y/N threw their head back in disbelief. “You’re superhuman!”

The free hand that wasn’t clutching Clark’s vest came up to trace along his jaw.

“But you’re also a beautiful, and unbelievably kind man, with a lot of very simple and meaningful dreams.” Y/N said, sort of reverently.

Clark was taken aback by their praise and sudden touch, his heart was now beating out of his chest and it was taking all he had not to take advantage of the closeness and pull them into a kiss.

"You...um.." he started, but the only words that came out were those of a stumbling school kid.

"How... um..."

Clark couldn't formulate a proper word or sentence, he was in awe at what they were saying to him. They loved him, they didn't reject him. That was all that mattered to him in this moment.

Y/N just smiled at him and leaned into him. It was cold.

Snow was beginning to fall around them now.

“Clark…” Y/N started. “We should leave and get back home.” They said.

"Right, you're right..." Clark mumbled, he was also slightly annoyed that the sudden change in weather meant the night couldn't go on as long as possible.

"My apartment or yours?" He asked, he didn't really care which one they chose, he just wanted to be near them again. His mind was still racing, what had just happened was so overwhelming that it would be nice to just relax in the warmth of another person's presence as soon as possible.

Y/N’s face flushed as they realized Clark expected them to stay together for at least the rest of the night. It made them warm and fuzzy inside to think that Clark liked them.

“We can go to either, which would you prefer?” Y/N asked. They wanted to let Clark make the rest of the decisions tonight. They wanted to show that they trusted Clark still.

Clark was still slightly giddy and overwhelmed from the situation, not only was he accepted despite his secret being known, but he was also offered a choice in who's place they would stay together for the rest of tonight.

The whole situation was a first for Clark, but he didn't want to let a single moment of this opportunity go to waste. He was happy to be offered the choice, but he decided quickly which he preferred.

"I'd like to come to your place." He said softly.

“Okay,” Y/N said weakly.

It was cute to Y/N that Clark could literally take a bullet for them and still be this shy directly after. They were glad he was fine anyways.

Slowly, they led the way back to their place and made it to their front door without incident. They fumbled with their keys, small keychains dangling on their loop while they fished it out of their pocket and unlocked the front door.

It was modest, but spacious. Y/N wasn’t sure if they liked that they were probably easily readable from just their living room, let alone the rest of the apartment.

“Home sweet home,” they said, dropping their keys in a bowl by the front door and kicking off their shoes by a rack.

Clark watched as they opened the front door, once they let him inside he stepped into their home, it was impressive how they managed to fill the space with such simple details, their whole home was filled with their personality. He loved the vibe they had going on here, and for him it was refreshing to see an apartment that wasn't filled with every fancy feature a high income level could afford.

He stepped inside, removing his shoes and hanging his coat up before setting his backpack down nearby. He walked over to Y/N, not sure what to say next.

”Hi…” Y/N said quietly, as they turned around to face Clark standing closer than before, having to look up to meet his eyes.

Clark smiled slightly, his heart fluttered as their eyes locked, even if it was just a simple "hi" that was all he needed. He stepped closer to them again, leaning his body gently against theirs, he was more comfortable with their closeness now than he had been earlier.

"Hi..." he replied softly.

“What’s up?” They asked, popping the ‘p’ sound on the last word.

Their hands drifted to rest on Clark’s hips. They loved how large Clark was compared to them but they didn’t expect him to be this close to them.

Clark's heart was beating so hard and he was starting to breathe faster as their hands drifted to his hips. He had wanted to get closer to them so badly, to feel them close to him like this, and now they were right where he wanted them to be.

"Uh..." he said before the words quickly faded, he had lost most of his ability to form words and sentences at this point. All he could manage was an occasional grunt or slight noise as he leaned into their touch.

“So…” Y/N sighed. “Do you want to make some hot coco and sit down…maybe, talk about some things?” Y/N asked. There was a certain implication in his words. He wanted to know more about Clark’s real life. His Superman identity included.

Clark was almost disappointed that the invitation wasn't a direct offer to make out at this very moment, but he understood why they wanted to do something else first. He was still happy with the suggestion and was more than open to telling them the truth about himself, he was ready to trust them.

"Yeah...that sounds great!" he replied, with some more enthusiasm than before.

He loved when Y/N made the decisions and took the lead on things, it was refreshing and they seemed to do a good job of choosing an appropriate option to keep things moving forward.

Y/N shuffled away to make them both a warm cup of hot coco. Clark stood in the foyer. They were both slightly damp from the light snow. Y/N looked stunning in this lighting, low lamps and the cold city lights outside the window.

“Clark, you know you can make yourself at home, right?” Y/N teased. “If you want, you can shower and I can see if I have…anything that will fit you since your clothes are…well..” Y/N turned his head and glanced at Clark’s singed vest with a nearly bullet burned hole in its stomach. His white shirt was none the better.

Clark couldn't help but blush a little at the teasing, he was a little bit flustered in every sense with the flirting and touching now, and hearing them say they didn't mind him showering in their place sent that flustering feeling into overdrive.

"My clothes are a bit wrecked, yes." Clark replied, glancing down at the damage on his clothing.

"It could be nice to get comfortable, if I've been invited to stay the night here..." his words trailed off, but he liked where this was going.

“Sure,” Y/N tried to sound nonchalant about it despite their heart fluttering.

“The bathroom is in the hallway to the left, I’ll just knock on the door when I’ve found clothes,” Y/N mumbled the last bit. They would burn that bridge when they got to it.

Clark's chest was now feeling the heat build up as his heart raced at the implications from their words, he loved the suggestion and their subtle teasing about it. It was so unexpected, like they had his whole night planned for him, he liked it.

"That sounds good, I can shower and you can go through your closet and see what you can find, I'm sure I can fit in some of your clothes." He said, smiling at them.

”Go on then, Wonder Boy,” Y/N smiled. They were stirring milk on the stove now. Clark shuffled off in their peripherals to shower.

-

Wonder boy, he really enjoyed when they called him that, although his thoughts were of other things... Like removing his own clothes. He smiled and then started heading to the bathroom off the Hallway, not even waiting for them to confirm if it really was to his left. They were clearly paying attention and he liked that, he felt their focus on him now as he left the foyer.

During the shower, Y/N knocked on the door. The bathroom was foggy but Y/N didn’t hear a response so they turned the knob cautiously.

“Clark? I found some clothes I-I think may fit.” Y/N said, trying to speak through the warm fog. They resisted the urge to look further into anything as they placed the clothes on the counter, but they turned around and couldn’t avoid getting a fleeting glance of Clark’s shape through the silhouetting shower curtain.

Y/N blushed clear to their chest.

“I-I left them on the counter!” They yelped, heart racing, and tried to leave quickly.

Clark was just standing under the steaming hot water with one arm on the wall, he had lost track of time in there and was now only focused on his thoughts. Until he heard the knock, at which point he froze for a second. He decided to keep it simple and not say anything and let them believe he hadn't heard them.

But he did hear them, and their words made his cheeks flush even more. Hearing them call his name with such a cute tone set him on fire. He quickly exited the shower, wrapping a towel around himself before going to check the clothes.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, clothes changed and hair toweled off. They had fuzzy socks on with tiny cats printed all over them.

“Bet you're used to saving a lot of these out of trees, huh?” They said, sticking their foot out and wiggling their toes at Clark.

Two mugs sat on the coffee table in front of Y/N.

Clark stepped up the couch, looking down at the fuzzy cat socks and letting a small, playful grin form on his face as he saw their foot sticking out at him.

"That's right, I love how innocent and adorable they are, they make me want to put them in my pocket and take them home with me." He said jokingly, playing along nicely with them.

He then sat down on the couch, facing them as he took one of the mugs and took a sip.

“Is it good?” Y/N asked, grabbing their own mug.

Clark smiled around a mouthful of coco and nodded.

Y/N chuckled and took a sip of his own.

“It’s my own recipe.” Y/N said.

Clark took another sip of his cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth in his mouth as he swallowed the comforting flavor.

He nodded again as he swallowed. "It's delicious. I don't know what you did to make it so good, but it's absolutely phenomenal."

He took a larger sip as he continued staring at their cute fuzzy socks.

“So,” Y/N crossed their legs. “Tell me about yourself, the real you ,Clark.”

They cross their legs and sit back on the couch, facing more towards Clark.

Their eyes pierced through Clark as he drank his coco.

They fiddled with their mug nervously. The snow continued to fall outside with a soft rush.

Clark watched them shift their position to be facing him, he was enjoying this more than he'd liked to let on, he enjoyed when they wanted to know about him. And now here was a question he could answer truthfully, finally telling them the real him. He took another sip of his hot cocoa, not able to resist their piercing eyes for too long. His cheeks were still flush from the shower and the interaction they just had. He set his drink down before responding.

"You really want to know about me, huh?"

“I really like you Clark, of course I want to know about you,” Y/N said softly.

If it was possible to melt like the snow outside from a single sweet word, he would have been nothing more than a puddle now. His breath became quick and short as he smiled and sighed, this was going to be such a big step, but he wanted this, he wanted to make them happy and trust them. He looked up from their eyes to their face and smiled, his heart beating faster than before. He took a short moment to get his thoughts together before replying.

"Okay...where do you want me to start?"

“Why didn’t you tell me you were…” Y/N found themselves having trouble saying it “…Superman.” They finally said.

“And who else knows?” They asked.

He'd feared this question so much, but he would have to answer it honestly. If he wanted to make things work between them, he would have to be 100% honest about everything. The fact that they wanted to know about the "real" him meant they really did like him, and hopefully their opinion of him wouldn't change now that he was being honest with them. He breathed a sigh and took a second to prepare himself for the answer.

"Well, the only other people who know are the Justice league.And obviously, my parents." He said quietly.

”Does Louis know?” They asked. “And the Justice League? God, I forgot how terrifying your job is outside of Metropolis.”

The mention of Lois reminded him how much he cared for her, and also her reaction when she first learned his identity. He shook his head and smiled at the question about his job.

"Oh Lois knows...she knows everything about me as Clark Kent or Superman, actually, she was the one who figured it out." He said, sounding genuinely proud of her.

"And yes, the Justice League. They're basically a group of superheroes who all keep the world safe from danger and help each other out when a villain or other crisis arises."

”So this is how you get all your good information for articles, huh? Using the superhuman charisma power you have?” Y/N asked.

The truth was that Clark did not have the ability to convince most people to tell him almost anything, he didn't use his powers to get information. But it was more fun to play along, so he nodded his head as his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

"Uh yeah, exactly, everyone just wants to tell their little secrets to me. So I can hear all the juicy gossip, not that I would do anything unethical with the information though."

He said with a teasing chuckle, he liked their playful approach. He took another sip from the mug.

Clark was a terrible liar. Y/N could see right through him, but they scoffed anyways.

“Guess that’s why I find you so irresistibly charming, hm?” Y/N drawled enticingly. They moved closer to Clark on the couch.

Y/N's words sent his heart into overdrive and his mind into a daze, this was exactly what he had wanted, exactly what he had hoped to hear from them. He smiled widely as they got closer to him and he couldn't help but let his eyes trace their figure as they talked.

"Is that the reason why you find me irresistible?" He replied back in the same playful manner, not able to stop himself from leaning in just a little bit.

Y/N smiled crookedly, unabashedly. “You tell me…” they said, leaning in. Clark obviously wasn’t going to break his gentlemanly persona anymore tonight, so Y/N would have to do it for him.

Their lips brushed for a brief moment, and Y/N pulled back a hair with a noise like they’d been burned.

Then, in a surge of desperation and want, both Y/N and Clark surged forward at the same time and met in an open mouthed kiss, mugs abandoned on the coffee table.

The first brush of their lips sent a surge through him, causing him to lean forward without any thoughts or regrets. All he was thinking was how much he wanted them in his arms. Their lips soon joined and he kissed back with as much passion as he could muster, every second felt like an eternity in the best way imaginable.

Finally, it seemed like they both couldn't hold back anymore, and suddenly they were kissing furiously like no one else existed besides them. The mugs on the coffee table could wait, they never should have been there anyway.

Y/N pulled back briefly, slightly, having to use their hands on Clark’s chest to push back in his strong grip around their back that had moved there during their quick descent into madness.

“Clark-“ they breathed. “Wai- wait-” they said as Clark looked at them with eyes like a kicked puppy, kisses aiming for their mouth having ended up on the corners and sides.

Clark was not yet ready for this kiss to stop but that didn't matter to him anymore, he wanted to listen to Y/N as they pulled back. He was more than a little flustered as he looked up from their hands to face them, his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He wanted to say something but he was having trouble gathering his thoughts.

He was so excited, and a part of him would have been happy to listen to them say something about stopping, but another part of him was worried they might say something else. He could feel the heat rising on his cheeks.

”Can we just-“ Y/N swallowed, mouth red and slightly swollen from kissing, “can we just sit here, put on a movie and kiss? I don’t want to go any further tonight. I wanna’ take it slow with you,” they pleaded.

Clark’s grasp around them became tighter. “Yes, yes, absolutely,” Clark wanted everything with them, but he could wait forever if they needed to. And honestly at heart, he didn’t want anything else tonight either. He was getting so much just from what was happening right now between them.

He loosened his grip on them slightly, as it was still a bit embarrassing for him to have acted like that, but he really couldn't help it. He had wanted it so much.

”Hold on, let me just-“ Y/N wriggled out of Clark’s grasp quickly and scurried over to the tv set, fumbling to turn on a show. A re-run of ’The Notebook’ was playing and Y/N laughed thinking about something so sappy playing behind them and their new lover making out and enjoying each other’s company less than 10 feet away.

Clark watched as Y/N’s body swayed and moved as they fiddled with the TV finally settling on something. Clark recognized it and laughed sardonically a little.

“Where were we?” Y/N said, spinning on their heels and turning to face Clark in their sweats and cat socks.

Clark's eyes couldn't help looking at all of Y/N's curves and their movements as they moved to the TV. He was enjoying all the scenery, he had to try hard not to smirk as they laughed at the TV show that was playing. The notebook was definitely a cheesy watch.

Clark laughed at the last question and got up from the sofa, moving closer to them as their bodies and faces became inches apart.

"We were kissing furiously I believe," he grinned, "and you want to keep that up?

“Yes, please-“ Y/N said, moving to straddle Clark’s lap. They halted suddenly, “Ah- but only if you want to,” they said quietly.

Clark's mouth fell open slightly as they climbed onto his lap, it was one thing to be standing near each other and kissing, but having them straddling on his lap was a whole different story. The fact that they suddenly paused and asked a question with so much hesitance had him almost melting just from the tenderness of the gesture.

He placed his hands on their hips and looked up at them with an eager smile.

"I certainly don't have any objections to that plan."

Y/N smiled.

“Good,” they ran a hand over Clark’s neck and leaned in again to kiss him sweetly while they rested on his lap.

Clark was more than happy to be in this position with Y/N, having them straddling him for a make out session was just as wonderful as he'd always imagined.

He leaned forward himself and wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist, pulling them close against him as their lips pressed together once again. His hands ran up to their back to hold them close to him, he couldn't help but let out a few moans and grunts of enjoyment as he kissed them back with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N felt Clark’s tongue brush against their lips. They opened their mouth slowly, letting Clark take the lead. The room felt nice, and they were glad they had put on an old record while Clark was in the shower.

Clark gently probed their lips with his tongue as he took the lead, he was loving every minute of this and was enjoying every second of being so close to them. Y/N's presence and their scent was intoxicating and his arms wrapped tighter around their waist as he enjoyed them more and more.

After a few moments of savoring the kiss, Clark pulled away just slightly as he was feeling a little light-headed from the heat and intimacy of it all.

Y/N felt warm for a different reason this time. They were just so content in Clark’s arms.

“Sleep in my bed tonight?” they asked with lidded eyes and a lazy smile on their face.

Clark was very grateful for this pause because he'd never felt so giddy and warm in his entire life, this had been beyond anything he could have ever thought possible.

A slight chuckle escaped him as he caught his breath, his gaze looking at Y/N with longing and amusement.

"I'd sleep on your porch if you'd let me. " He replied with a mischievous grin.

“Well then, that settles that,” Y/N laughed, a little ditsy off of the wine from dinner now that they had calmed down and a little bit from how Clark was holding them in his grip.

“Let’s go, screw the movie, I want to cuddle,” Y/N brushed a lock of hair behind Clark’s ear and kissed his forehead softly as they smiled.

With that, they both proceeded to cuddle up together on Y/Ns bed and watch the snow fall gently outside. It was warm, they were happy, and the world spun on.

➽──────────────❥

Final note: okkk thanks for reading everyone :) lmk if yall have any requests for me because i am slowly running out of ideas right now and im in a writing mood so this window will not last long sadly

[astranite]

Limp

John and Virgil!!! The whole range of hurt/comfort, angsting and fluff though leaning rather towards comforty. Scott also sneaks in for a good bit at the end. And there are hugs. Also there is autistic John and Virgil which it isnt about but its very there :)

This started off from the first line from a tumblr prompt from @aliceinwhumperland and the idea from @katblu42 to have John being the one limping then it grew from there!!! Minor warning for injury and medical stuff. Also that this reached 6k words!!

---

"You think you're hiding it, but I can see that limp from space."

Virgil leaned closer to his comm, giving John a prime view of dark, angular done-with-this-shit eyebrows.

John definitely didn’t panic. He just didn’t want the totally needless scrutiny of a medic brother all up in his business. Or asking questions like, ‘What did you do to yourself this time?’

“What limp?” he replied. He could play it off as obtuse and then no one had to ever to find out. 

Virgil gave a Scott-worthy facepalm. “Do I have to worry about a concussion too?”

Okay maybe that was too obtuse. But he was running on few hours of sleep, back to back rescues and no bloody breakfast so who could blame him. 

“I’m fine, Virgil.” John rolled his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Well then, John could prove it. Ignoring the ache in his left foot and that the last time he tried this was probably what had gotten Virgil’s suspicions on him in the first place, he twisted through the central hub of Five to the entry to the gravity ring. 

Lowering himself carefully in what was usually a thoughtlessly graceful manoeuvre, he landed on his feet in the grav ring, a triumphant, “See, I’m perfectly fine,” already on his lips. Except as soon as his left foot touched the ground with his weight on it, a sharp stab shot through it.

He couldn’t hold back the painfully obvious wince. Or the sudden gasp. 

Virgil’s disappointment was another blow. “And here I thought I had one sensible brother. How did it happen?”

Mechanism of injury, a completely ordinary question for a medic to ask. One he’d compliantly answered for many accidents, even ridiculous earthside ones such as, ‘Fell over again and it’s all gravity’s fault.’ But up here he was meant to be in his element. 

John crossed his arms stubbornly, wobbling on one foot. 

“Couldn’t say.”

“Johnny.” Virgil was exasperated by now. 

“Definitely not telling you anything if you call me that.”

“Johnathan Glenn Tracy.”

“Nope. That’s not even my name.”

“John.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” John spat. 

Virgil looked taken aback. 

A lump rose in John’s throat. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a shit day.” 

He could feel his face growing as red as his hair with shame. It would definitely be visible over holograms. To make it worse, Virgil was probably as exhausted as he was. The last rescue had been nasty, earthquakes so often were, and Thunderbird Two had been on several more before that. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with John’s sarcastic, bitchy attitude as well. 

John admitted defeat and hopped over to the wall to hold onto a grab bar to keep his balance and take the weight off his foot. And resisted the urge to bang his head against it because that sort of thing had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

His foot was throbbing, Virgil’s expression was soft because he’d already forgiven him and John was just over it all. 

“Please promise you won’t laugh.” He couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else, no matter how unlikely it was that Virgil would. 

“Alright, I promise. I’m not going to judge you, John.”

“I kicked a wall,” John mumbled, “On purpose, because I got mad that the bagel dispenser wasn’t working and a call came in so there was no time to fix it and I couldn’t sleep last night and I’m stressed about literally everything and just wanted a fucking bagel but clearly that was too much to ask of the universe!”

John shut his mouth with a clack. The words had come out in a torrent rising in volume that he couldn’t hold back. Over such a stupid thing too. 

When John could finally  bring himself to glance up from the stars beneath the floor outside, Virgil’s gaze held nothing but empathy. 

“You’re right, it has been a pretty shit day.”

John nodded quietly. 

Virgil continued, “Just— John, you know you don’t have to hide stuff like that from us, from me, right?  We’ve all done stupid things in anger before and probably will do so again. That big, blue splodge of paint on my studio wall? Yeah, I chucked a paintbrush at it because a painting wasn’t working out and I was frustrated and it was three am after a string of bad rescues and I lost it a bit.”

Huh. John hadn’t known that. Virgil was usually least likely to blow up as far as it went. 

“Point is, you’re not alone in this. Tracy temper, remember? We’ve all got it and we are all working out how to work with it. But it isn’t an excuse to conceal an injury that might need treatment even if it seems like it, ‘Should be fine,’ or ‘Isn’t that bad,’ or you think it’s caused by something stupid and you’re worried about us judging you. Because we won’t.”

John took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. 

He wasn’t even getting lectured at for being an idiot, or having it brushed off as nothing because, ‘Red heads and their tempers, y’know,’ or plain old being yelled at because, ‘John, you’re meant to be better than this.’

Virgil cared about him. That was simple fact. 

So John cooperatively answered Virgil’s questions about pain, the range of motion he had and when exactly had the injury occurred this morning. That he couldn’t bear weight on it was pretty telling something was wrong. And it really did hurt. 

“You’re going to need to come down here so I can get x-rays of that foot,” Virgil said apologetically. 

John bit back the wave of disappointment, along with the accompanying urge to snap and snarl. 

“I know.”

He really didn’t want to go back to earth and deal with everyone’s concern and fussing when he just wanted to ignore them and go to bed. Up here on Five no one was close enough to be affected by his moods unless they put in a comm call which he could, as above, ignore. 

But John dutifully transferred control over to Eos and the island, packed his bag because he’d probably be there for a while but he wasn’t going to think about that and loaded himself into the space elevator. He knew how dangerous untreated injuries were in space better than anyone. 

The descent was slower than usual, as was protocol for an injury where speed was not of the essence and a less turbulent descent outweighed the need for timeliness. It gave John plenty of opportunity to stare at the rounded edge of the space elevator’s inner ceiling. Frustration over near guaranteed being grounded bubbled up until he had to screw his eyes shut and force himself to focus on the way the g-forces felt against his body so he didn’t utterly lose it. 

Landing on earth came with a jolt that managed to catch John by surprise. He flinched, then checked the systems read outs and undid his restraints. Remaining lying on the launch couch was one third to demonstrate he could be sensible and wait instead of trying to walk off a potentially serious injury, another third because he didn’t want to tangle with gravity on his own, and also so that he could childishly pretend he was still up on Five and far away for a little longer. 

Virgil knocked on the space elevator doors and a second later they slid open. John gave him a weak smile. 

The journey through the hangars to the infirmary was made with Virgil’s supportive arm around his waist and John’s arm draped across his brother’s broad shoulders as John stubbornly limped along. He did take a moment as his feet first touched the concrete floor and gravity really took hold to lean into Virgil’s half hug and just breathe. 

The infirmary was the same as it always was, with its sterile smell overloaded with the sharpness of antiseptic that made it different from the atmosphere on Five, and thankfully quiet. 

John manoeuvred himself up onto the closest bed, sinking into the stiff foam mattress as much as was physically possible. Stars, he was tired. 

Virgil was exceedingly gentle as he eased John’s foot out of his space boot. He stripped the sock off too, propping the foot up to rest in his lap to examine it. John grimaced as Virgil necessarily poked and prodded at where it was sorest.  Though the bruises and swelling were not particularly hard to spot from where contact had been made with the solid bulkhead. 

John anxiously chewed his lips waiting for Virgil to get the portable x-ray, zap him and be done with it. 

Moving his sore foot around at all the required angles for the shots was… a process. 

He did his best to be patient as Virgil took the x-rays off to Grandma for a second opinion on how they would most effectively treat him, but ended up curled in a ball on the slightly plasticky hospital sheets, stubbornly facing the wall with his foot carefully positioned in a way that it least hurt.

He wasn’t asleep, it was not late enough for that and he was far too wired but he was knocked out of his reverie nonetheless by Grandma stroking his hair. 

“Definitely broken, kiddo. No getting around that.”

Even John could see it when they showed him the x-rays. He could only be grateful the fracture was neatly aligned and wouldn’t need surgery, he’d seen plenty of worse breaks in the field. It still meant weeks of being grounded, away from Five and unable to go home to his stars. 

Virgil applied the cast under Grandma’s supervision. John shuddered at the sensations even as he tried to keep still. He was proud of how far Virgil had come in his medical education and he made sure his brother knew that. 

The usual checks after coming down from space wore on his nerves. He took the painkillers for his stupid broken foot, the anti-nausea meds as his stomach wasn’t settling from the change from microgravity and the tall lidded cup of the least disgusting flavour of electrolyte drink as directed. 

He fidgeted with his baldric, tracing over the lines of his suit; everything was a lot today. For all of them; John didn’t miss the dark circles beneath Virgil’s eyes or the way he slumped as he sat on the bed next to John once Grandma had left and the cast was setting. 

Virgil had briefly crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself, hands rubbing the flannel of his sleeves. Then he uncrossed them, hunching his shoulders to appear smaller, less intimidating, fingertips still going over the soft, worn fuzzy material of the cuffs of his flannel.

John placed his hand, palm up on Virgil’s leg. Virgil took it and John squeezed his fingers once as they sat in silence for a while. 

Changing out of his space suit for the loose pyjama shorts and t-shirt Virgil brought was difficult and awkward with his foot. And how clumsy he was here in general. 

Trying to walk on crutches was, to put it in far politer words than John vehemently used, a disaster. 

One second he was standing with the crutches around his arms, adjusted to the correct height, his casted foot off the ground, everything done properly, about to take a step. The next he was a tangled pile of limbs on the ground. 

John’s cheeks were burning red yet again. Stupid, fucking gravity and his miraculous ability to trip over nothing. 

He shoved the useless hunks of metal away from him as the room blurred, swiping at the angry tears as they formed. 

Virgil crouched in from of him, checking him over for injury. Well, further injury. 

There wasn’t any, apart from his rather dented pride. John didn’t count the damp tears trickling down his face as he studiously attempted to ignore them. 

Virgil made a soft noise as John let himself be pulled into a hug. Warm flannel absorbed his tears as John hugged Virgil tighter. Somehow it felt like he hadn’t seen him for months even though it couldn’t’ve been that long, could it? Unless they counted for quality time rather than John being periodically dragged down to earth… He missed his quietest and closest brother in age even if they’d been talking mission only this morning. 

Maybe John tried to hide from the world for a little while, and Virgil let him. They both needed this; Virgil’s face was also buried in John’s hair. 

After a while, sitting sprawled on the hard infirmary floor caught up to them with all the aches of too long days of heavy work. And broken bones. John shifted with a grimace.

Now he had to get back up off the ground when the crutches were clearly not a help, when he was pretty near useless down here, unable to resist the inevitable pull of gravity to the centre of the earth and the unforgiving ground. 

…He was probably being far too dramatic about it. Should just get it together like everyone else seemed able to do. 

But it was still a problem that he didn’t want to deal with because fundamentally, he wished he was back on Five. 

He had been going to tell someone about the injury, of course. Just as soon as he’d thought up a watertight excuse slash explanation. As soon as got himself under control and stopped being so sensitive over everything that he’d snap at anyone who got near him. So he would not end up like this, a too-emotional mess on the floor. 

Virgil once again checked his cast and his broken foot were undamaged by his fall. John wondered whether it was as much for Virgil’s sake of making sure idiot big brothers weren’t going to suddenly keel over as for John’s. John rubbed a hand roughly over his face. It was because Virgil cared. And maybe time had proven he had a right to worry.

John protested as Virgil went to pick him up, on the grounds Virgil had already been doing plenty of heavy lifting on rescues today and he had to be exhausted already, and John really didn’t want him to throw his back out or his knees or whatever other worst case scenarios John could come up with. 

He also knew he’d look utterly ridiculous in Virgil’s hold, all gangly, lanky limbs out of proportion with Virgil’s shorter, stockier build. And John was more likely to accidentally elbow someone in the nose, which had demonstrably happened before and the guilt still chewed at him, than even Scott fighting tooth and nail against being slung over someone’s shoulder when he there was no way he could even physically stand, let alone walk any distance. He warned Virgil away sharply.

“John. I know my limits, and you aren’t any worse than Scott.” Virgil sounded done with it all. “And I’d rather carry you than have to pick up the pieces or reset that cast, which I have also had to do before, because one of my brothers is injured and deserves help but they are too damn stubborn to let me.”

The fight in John left him as a hissing exhale, like a hole in a space ship venting atmosphere. 

Virgil scooped him up off the ground, promising to figure the rest out later as John avoided flailing too much. 

His brother’s arms were secure around his knees and under his shoulders, holding him close so there was no danger of him hitting the ground, of the falling that some part of John secretly feared, even with the rocking movement of Virgil’s strides. John’s cheek stayed mushed against Virgil’s flannel-clad chest. 

The walls of the house passed him in a tired blur. He really didn’t want to be left to sit around in his room where no matter how tired he was he wouldn’t sleep yet. Lying there staring at the ceiling all afternoon with nothing better to occupy him than his turbulent thoughts was frankly not a good idea. 

He said as much to Virgil, probably far too bluntly. The usual multi-stage filter he sorted his words through before he ever said them had met its untimely demise in face of his exhaustion several hours ago. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to hang around amidst the noise and movement and peopleing of the lounge with everyone else either. John being difficult again, as usual, the voice in the back of his head snarked.

Virgil had mercy on John and took the back route through the house instead of past the comms room where everyone would see him, even if it was only his family who he should know wouldn’t judge him. Everyone had been in the position of being carried about when they’d fallen asleep somewhere or were injured or were about to be chucked into the pool, so except in the last situation, John shouldn’t’ve been embarrassed or really cared, except that he did. 

They passed by John’s bedroom. John curled a little closer to Virgil in something that could’ve been called relief. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to be completely alone right now; he trusted Virgil.

A booted foot nudged open the door before Virgil placed John down on one of the big, squishy beanbags in the corner of his studio. 

John melted into it. He didn’t think he had bones anymore. Or any outside of the ones he’d just broken which had plenty of painful evidence of their existence. But no bones. He could even forgive gravity just this once when it was letting him sink into the soft surface. 

He looked up at Virgil’s low chuckle. 

“They’re good, aren’t they? Gordon found them online and I chose the colours.” Virgil smiled fondly. 

They hadn’t been here the last time John had hung out in Virgil’s studio with him. A spike of sorrow stabbed at his chest. 

New beanbags were a tiny change. It shouldn’t even matter. Except they demonstrated precisely how he was missing out on the details of his brothers’ lives while he was away. 

The beanbag covers were greens and yellows, soft, earthen shades exactly what John would expect Virgil to pick. Colourful, but not in your face. Soothing and restful but not dull. 

Observations probably not as important to anyone else as John found them. 

Virgil ducked out and came back with John’s tablet, the one he used earth-side with its bulky, lilac shatter-proof case. 

John took it carefully from Virgil’s hands, not because it was breakable even dropped from quite a height, but because of the consideration Virgil gave him, to bring him it to read on when he couldn’t go get something himself. 

In space, alone, it wasn’t like there anyone to do that kind of thing for him. Even with the gifts snuck into monthly supply crates by his family, he’d sort of forgotten how it felt.

He shoved away the ever so familiar feeling of being torn in two. He loved the stars, loved being up on Five, he really did. In spite of this, missing his family while up there was a constant wound he packed with the duty of constantly being called upon, of constantly needing to be the Voice Who Answers, in hopes of staunching his bleeding emotions. It contrasted with how he never wanted to outstay his welcome on Earth. 

Why was it that no matter where he was, he still wanted to go home?

Why did anger seethe and rise only to leave him all hollow and empty?

John gulped, running his hands over his face. He tucked one into his hair, tugging at the strands in an effort to distract himself. Why the fuck was he like this?

Virgil had turned away to get something off his desk, so at least he didn’t have to see John freaking out over nothing.

John forced a smile when Virgil looked back at him in concern. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Virgil said.

He was wearing his set of large, over-ear noise-cancelling headphones, covered in green stickers, his chin nodding along to a beat John couldn’t hear. Virgil wasn’t smiling but the creases around his eyebrow scar were shallower. Today had been getting to him too. 

Left alone, John examined the art studio more thoroughly, letting himself become absorbed in the details, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

The whole place was very Virgil, in the best possible way. Storage for art materials was arranged with an engineer’s precision for putting and keeping things in their proper order, cupboards with closed doors painted olive green and neatly labeled in Virgil’s blocky handwriting. Only the pencils Virgil was currently using were left on his desk, in their tray reordered into an exactingly coloured gradient. John couldn’t deny that it also clicked in his brain with that urge to line stuff up. 

An electric keyboard lived along a side wall by a bookshelf containing folders of sheet music and art theory books. John knew from Virgil that the music was arranged by each song’s dominant colour palette according to folder, when he asked as at first he couldn't make sense of the system when of course Virgil would have a system. 

There were speakers in a few places around the room for the frequent times Virgil listened to music while creating. Good quality ones because Virgil said certain staticky types gave him the same sensation as putting gritty sand in his mouth.

It was Virgil’s space for making art and just being, so he’d adapted it to him. Virgil got overwhelmed when there was too much visual stimulation, with constant busy, bright colours and clutter of the world he couldn't put away, so here was an escape from that. 

The walls and ceiling were light, giving an airy feeling. A large landscape window joined inside and outside seamlessly, looked over what John privately thought was the best view on the island, except for the observatory. You could see right out past Mateo, over pokey trees and ocean. Late afternoon sunlight poured in, and there were shades if it got too much.

Greenery was introduced into the room itself by the massive monstera plant in the corner, its umbrella-like leaves forming pleasing shadows on the floor, contrasting with the near liquid golden light. More smaller plants were scattered about. John brushed his fingers over the monstera, to reach out and touch the tangible connection with life and the earth. 

Occasionally a piece of art was hung up for a while as it was finished before being moved to its intended display area in an other part of the house, like the watercolour sketch of playful dolphins amongst their reef obviously intended for Gordon. But mostly there wasn't anything to distract from the artwork, on canvas or as music, that Virgil was bringing to life. 

John found the studio calming too, even when he usually tended towards wanting all his bright stars, books, open screens and telescopes in his space at once. There was something about the soothing surroundings, how the faint smell of paints and real paper lingered, mixing with engine bio-oil and coffee, that meant safety and home. His brother’s mark on it was undeniable. 

John couldn’t help but search for the splatter of paint Virgil had mentioned earlier. It was blue and on a wall in this room, so it shouldn’t be hard to miss but in spite of all of his skills at searching, it was nowhere to be found. Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that Virgil must have painted over it, destroying the tangible proof that he’d acted out in anger.

The beanbags squished beneath him when he flopped back, long legs stretched out and foot smarting when he moved it, picking up his tablet for something to do. His substantial library of books wasn’t holding anything that could keep his attention right now as he flicked between them, opening and shutting pages. He tipped his head back, looking upwards, letting his tablet fall face down onto his chest.

And there it was. On the wall above him, the blue splodge of paint exactly from Virgil’s story. 

Except it wasn't just a splodge because a rainbow of lines had been added around it, faithfully following the original shape and expanding upon it, forming a bird with wings outstretched, flying freely across the wall. Something utterly beautiful from from what had begun as only painful.

John’s breath caught. He didn't know how Virgil did that. He wrung out hope from anger, forming all the emotion into art where John just flailed because he didn’t want to touch his feelings with a thousand kilometre stick.

But here, in Virgil’s studio surrounded by the calm quiet where he could finally breathe, he could try.

So he picked up his tablet. Opened up the word programme. And began to write.

He had no idea where he was going. No plot, no plan, no outline. When he usually did this, for reports, for academic works, he always had his ideas and arguments all laid out in his head and he simply had to put them on the page in front of him.

His fingers found the keyboard and he let them, doing his best not to second-guess and delete every word he put down. To think too much and bail out as it got too big and too scary even when this was just typing on his tablet sitting in a beanbag in the corner of the room, not doing anything at all that could be thought of as dangerous or would mess up his broken foot. 

It wasn't really much. In subject or in word count or in technical finesse. He hadn’t been doing this writing thing for very long, not since university and stories scrawled in his near illegible handwriting hidden in paper notebooks beneath his bed. Not for himself. 

He saved the document and slammed the window closed before he could look at it and convince himself it was all completely stupid and he never should’ve even tried in the first place.

But it was cathartic and it gave him somewhere to put the irrational seething anger, outlined by the sorrow that seeped through in the lines between, to bleed out on paper, in words that were his first language and first love. In the beginnings of stories that didn’t have to be perfect or real and contained far too much of himself to even think about showing anybody yet, but that maybe one day he would. 

When Virgil knocked on the door and opened it, John jumped like he’d been caught out. Then he glanced up and saw the blue paint splodge turned flying bird from the corner of his eye, and he could smile at Virgil with all the love in the world and more understanding of how his brother worked. Of why after hard rescues and bad days his first instinct was to turn to piano or canvas.

Seeing what Virgil was carrying on the tray in his hands had John wishing he hadn’t ever broken his foot so he could throw himself at Virgil to hug him this very second. Though if he hadn’t been injured, he never would’ve come down from Five today.

A blueberry bagel, toasted, with the special strawberry cream cheese that was his favourite but never lasted long in space. Or on Earth, unless his brothers saved it for him on purpose. 

There was a cup of tea too, next to Virgil’s customarily massive mug of coffee.

John just stared up at him, until he found his voice to whisper all his thanks over and over. He took the plate and the cup in slightly trembling hands, then placed them on the floor next to him. 

He raised his arms so that Virgil would crouch down and John could squish him into a hug. 

John clung to red flannel for a few seconds longer than he usually would. Virgil returned it in kind, smiling at him with soft, brown eyes. 

Then he was fussing over John’s foot again, propping it up on pillows and wrapping an icepack around it. John took it in because this was Virgil’s way of showing he cared. As well, it would mean he could get back on his feet sooner by not ignoring the injury. Plus it hurt less.

Before Virgil returned to his desk and pencils, John bumped their foreheads together in show of affection not as frequently done between them with the distance. It was often Scott and Virgil’s thing.  Virgil hummed happily at him even when John wobbled as he leaned forward, making the collision slightly more forceful than he intended. Instead they laughed together over Tracy hard heads. 

Enjoying each other’s company with no pressure to talk or interact was nice and exactly what they both needed. They could do their own things in parallel, Virgil with his art, a sketch forming beneath steady hands, and John with… whatever he was doing at this point.

Gathering up his courage, he cautiously reopened his word document from earlier and read over what he’d written. It was… okay actually. The typos and errors he grimaced at were numerous, but those were fixable problems.

It was a story, he’d written something. John found himself smiling down at his tablet with the urge to add more so he did.

The time passed in the light from the windows transforming from light gold to a fiery orange, stretching across their room and their island alike. As dusk grew closer, the bird calls and insect songs changed, and there were so many wonderful things about space that John could never give up loving but it didn't have this.

So maybe that was what was wrong with him. Instead of a flaw in his very humanity, it was more not enough food and too much stress, not sleeping right or talking to anyone. Those simple things he sort of… forgot about, ignored. John needed to be around family too, with the sunlight streaming in, plants in touching distance and the quiet company of Virgil and some care to feel better. 

Maybe while he was down here, he’d even go stargazing outside tomorrow, lying on a picnic blanket on the grass like he used to. Monitor work could be taken care of at dad’s desk, there’d be time to help Allie with his school work then play video games together and once his cast was off, swim in Gordon’s ocean. To hang out with Scott too and help pull his beloved biggest brother out of his own overwork spiral. He hadn’t had a chance to catch up with Grandma or Kayo or Brains in a while either. 

Only then would he return to Five, to his stars and space, his research and monitor duty proper. His little room up there, the gravity ring and central floating hub, with Eos as his companion, they were home too. Not in replacement of the island and his family but in addition. And he knew he could come down to Earth when he needed to even if, especially when it was just because he wanted a hug.

Right now, the soft patter of his fingertips on the glass screen blended with the scratchings of Virgil’s coloured pencils on artist’s paper. 

He munched on his bagel and sipped his tea contentedly. Virgil had been cupping his warm mug of coffee in his hands, happily sighing as John fought the urge to giggle.

It was with a cheerier and more relaxed Virgil that they ended up squished together on the beanbag pile once the sun was fully set. John snuggled into his brother’s side, it really had been too long but he was here now. 

Virgil’s fingers tapped contentedly against the knee of his jeans like he was playing a melody on the piano, other arm tucked around John, meaning John could feel the vibrations as Virgil hummed along. John went from messing with the case of his tablet to happily flickering his hands at his sides.

Also, how were the beanbags this comfortable? These ones didn’t even rustle and squeak like he remembered the ones they’d had as kids did. 

Those had met a horrific end with their guts all over the house when Gordon had wanted to know what was inside them and out of scientific curiosity John had helped find the answers, utilising his ability to read and follow the instructions on the tag of how to open the pull-less zipper with an ancient paperclip. 

He retold the story to Virgil whose eyes widened in surprise.

“So it was you!” he laughed. “I’d wondered how Gords did it, but I hadn't put anything past the fish.”

John lost his battle with holding in his own giggles and decided to let Virgil in on the secrets of a few other John-and-Gordon specials.

There was a knock before Scott ducked his head around the corner of the doorway, just as John glanced up.

Scott leant against the frame, intense blue eyes looking him over. John couldn’t tell whether they were sharper in person than over hologram or softer. They stuck on John’s cast, flicking to Virgil before scanning carefully over his body, same as if any of the others were injured in the field. 

“Scott,” John stated. An acknowledgment that his big brother was here. The tight, tangled  barbed wire ball that had been living in his stomach for days loosened further. 

“You okay?”

How was he supposed to answer that? In this moment, laughing aloud with Virgil, yeah he was. But all the rest of the day, the week beforehand? John gave a noncommittal shrug that didn’t give much either way. 

Of course that became cause for Scott to come closer. He knelt in front of John, ever so mindful of his broken foot. 

Telegraphing his movements, Scott reached out and brushed John’s hair out of his face before silently kissing his forehead, all gentle big brother who was here for him no matter what.

He repeated the motion with Virgil. 

John froze for precious seconds then threw himself at Scott. 

It hurt. He’d forgotten about his foot in its awful cast for a moment, knocking it painfully against the floor with a broken yelp. But Scott caught him anyway. Virgil’s arms went back around him too and he was still humming but in a steadier pitch. 

John was sniffling against Scott’s chest, soaking up his brothers’ warmth and all the love in the room, even as he wasn’t sure whether he was crying again from sorrow or pain or because they both cared about him so, so much and the happy-overwhelmed feeling got stuck as a lump in his throat.

Maybe together they could fix this mess John had somehow made. But right now John let them hold him close, let Scott rock them until the calm of the room could creep back in.

A cuddle pile formed on the beanbags once again, this time with Scott too. John leant back on Scott’s chest, still hiccuping occasionally from the tears. Both sets of their long legs alongside each other were tossed over Virgil’s lap, who’d very fairly called them a lanky, boney weighted blanket, while snuggling in with no suggestion they move. He could feel Scott’s chin resting on top of his head, breaths lightly tickling his hair.

Virgil had had to check again, with the medscanner he kept in his studio first aid kit, that John hadn’t screwed up his foot in its bright orange cast. Yet he hadn’t and even though John could still feel the pain of the impact, Virgil had given him another dose of ibuprofen which would take the edge off soon.

John’s eyes slid half shut with exhaustion. Scott let him fidget with his hands as he gripped them. Virgil was tapping out piano pieces again, a more relaxed melody now against the top John’s bare shin, the sensation grounding and reminding him Virgil was close.He had his brothers. All of them. All of his family. They loved him and they’d help him figure this out and that was more that enough, it was everything.

[espressoristretto-patronum]

Hi friend! Asks for Tori when you have the time:

Which canon character does Tori respect a lot? (Other than Poppy ofc!)

Which canon character does Tori not respect at all? Why?

Is there someone Tori didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Is there someone Tori liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

💛

BAGEL ❤️ THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! 🫂

Yeah, it took me a while to answer this after a very busy and tiring weekend 🙃 and I probably wrote this badly too because I'm going to work but shhh 😂

Which canon character does Tori respect a lot? (Other than Poppy ofc!)

Lmao you know me well! Yes, she respects Poppy the most because kindness is one of the things Tori values the most.

That's why she respects Natty a lot as well. Natty is strong and resilient, and Tori can't ask for a better Auror partner!

She respects Imelda for her determination too.

And in general she respects her professors, but if she has to choose the answer is Professor Weasley.

Which canon character does Tori not respect at all? Why?

Banal answer, but everyone who works with Rookwood, and of course Rookwood himself 🤷 obviously if Tori values kindness, she can't stand them being so mean and cruel.

And Ruth Singer! Tori suspects Singer is corrupted by Rookwood and Harlow.

Is there someone Tori didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Imelda LMAO. The first meeting at the Quidditch pitch wasn't the best and Tori didn't like her because of her harsh nature. But after the second and third trial, she learnt about Imelda and understood why Imelda is so defensive and harsh. Now Tori considers her one of her closest friend!

Is there someone Tori liked at first, but then grew to dislike?

RUTH USELESS OFFICER SINGER. To be honest, Tori liked her the first time she saw her in Hogsmeade only because Ruth complimented her for defeating a troll (remember, Tori is a golden retriever and she likes compliments 🤷). But after that? The most useless officer ever.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 46

After we had clawed our way out of the rubble and staggered to our car, Steve drove us to a contact he’d made during his runs—an Army vet named Sam Wilson. Now, I found myself in Sam's bathroom, scrubbing the grime and dust from my face. The reality of being hunted by a corrupt government, now tainted by our old enemies, was a far cry from the peaceful retirement I had once envisioned.

I stared at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. Despite the grime on my face, I still looked like I had 70 years ago. It was as though time had paused for me, while inside, I felt like I should have been long gone.

As I wiped away the condensation, a fleeting movement caught my eye. I rubbed the mist from the mirror, only to lock eyes with the haunting blue gaze of the Winter Soldier. I gasped, spinning around in a rush, clutching the towel around me as if it could shield me from the apparition. But the room was empty, the silence thick and oppressive. My heart pounded in my chest, the paranoia gnawing at me. Maybe I was losing my grip on reality, or perhaps the crash had shaken my mind more than I realized.

I dashed out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, desperate to talk to Steve. From the hushed tones drifting down the hallway, it was clear he was deep in conversation with Natasha. I pressed my back against the wall, straining to hear their exchange.

"I owe you," Natasha’s voice came through, heavy with a mixture of remorse and defeat. The sense of betrayal was palpable, a feeling that resonated with all of us. "It’s okay," Steve replied, his tone soft, accompanied by a shake of his head.

There was a pause, and then Natasha's voice, barely more than a whisper, cut through the silence. "If the roles were reversed, and it was up to me to save your life, would you honestly trust me to do it?" Her question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.

I was surprised to hear Steve’s response, given how cautious he had been with her. His voice carried a weight of sincerity as he told her that she had earned his trust. The reassurance in his words was unexpected, and it revealed a depth of understanding and forgiveness that we all desperately needed in these tumultuous times.

I was relieved to hear that Steve and Natasha had buried their mistrust; I liked Natasha and hoped that their getting along would make things easier. As I stayed pressed against the wall, straining to catch their conversation, Sam suddenly rounded the corner.

"Are you eavesdropping?" he whispered, startling me so much that I jumped. “Oh my god, you scared the hell out of me, Wilson!” I exclaimed in a hushed voice, shoving him away to avoid being overheard.

Sam’s eyes briefly darted to my chest, and that’s when I realized I was still wrapped in nothing but a towel. He quickly averted his gaze, his face turning a shade of red as he grinned. “Breakfast is ready, guys,” he called out, then bolted back into the kitchen, his laughter trailing behind him.

We gathered in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the savory scent of breakfast. Sam moved deftly, plating our food with the precision of a seasoned chef. I took a bite of the cream cheese bagel, its rich, creamy flavor melding perfectly with the warm, chewy bread. It was heavenly, and my stomach, empty from a long night, welcomed it eagerly. Our conversation centered on Jasper Sitwell, the man we had to take down. As a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. officer, he was untouchable, and we, marked as criminals, faced a daunting challenge.

Sam, ever the unexpected ally, offered his assistance, revealing layers to his character beyond that of a typical soldier. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam," Steve said, his eyes scanning the detailed dossier Sam had provided. "You got out for a reason." Sam crossed his arms, a look of unwavering resolve settling on his face. "Dude, Captain America needs my help. There is no better reason to get back in."

Natasha’s skills were unmatched; she easily slipped into Fort Meade, retrieving Sam's old Falcon wings like child’s play. With the gear secured, we set out to capture Jasper Sitwell. The plan brought us to a quaint little café, its outdoor seating providing a perfect vantage point to watch the entrance of the hotel where Sitwell was staying. The sun cast a warm glow over the scene, but tension crackled in the air.

Sam and I sat at a wrought-iron table, our eyes trained on the hotel. The minutes ticked by slowly, each one heightening our anticipation. "So... does your friend Natasha have a boyfriend?" Sam asked, breaking the silence, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings for any sign of movement. His attempt at casual conversation did little to mask the sharp focus in his gaze as we waited for our target to emerge.

Before I could answer, Sitwell stepped out of the hotel, and Sam quickly reached for the phone. "Agent Sitwell, how was lunch?" he asked sarcastically. "I hear the crab cakes are delicious." Although I couldn't hear Sitwell's response, the look of panic that crossed his face was telling enough.

"You’re going to go around the corner to your right. There’s a gray car two spaces down. You and I are going to take a ride," Sam commanded firmly.

Sitwell must have been protesting, but the sight of a red dot appearing on his expensive-looking tie made him fall in line immediately. He glanced around frantically but followed Sam's directions.

Sam handed me the phone. "If anything comes up, give us a call," he said, his tone serious. With that, he followed Sitwell, leaving me to keep watch and be ready for any unexpected developments. I scanned the bustling café through my sunglasses, everything appearing normal. Patrons were animatedly chatting, sipping their coffees, and enjoying the afternoon. Suddenly, a flock of birds took off from the ground behind me, causing me to turn my head instinctively.

When I turned back, my heart nearly stopped—the Winter Soldier was sitting across from me. He wore a cap and sunglasses, attempting a casual disguise. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," he said firmly, placing a handgun on the table and swiftly concealing it under the menu.

My heart raced as I nodded, trying to keep my composure. "I know who you are," I whispered. "You work for Hydra, but I still don't know what you want from me."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, his eyes suddenly appearing sad and confused. "I remember you... you're the only thing I remember," he said softly, his hand reaching across the table, fingers just brushing mine.

I recoiled, pulling my hand back sharply. "You are a monster, a murderer," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. He straightened, his posture rigid and tense, as his hand tightened around the gun. The metallic glint of the weapon caught the light, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Come with me... please," he implored, his voice softening into a desperate plea.

I instinctively recoiled, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Why would I do that?"

He leaned in closer, his expression tormented, eyebrows deeply furrowed as if grappling with inner turmoil. "Because I know I loved you," he said, his voice wavering with a blend of longing and regret. As he reached for my hand, his fingers brushed against mine with a hesitant tenderness, and then entwined with mine in a firm yet gentle grip.

This time, I didn’t pull away. The shock of his admission left me frozen, my mind struggling to reconcile his words with the reality of the man before me. The touch of his hand, so intimate and unexpected, stirred a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief within me.

The shrill ring of the phone on the table made me jump, my hand instinctively pulling back as if burned. Trembling, I answered the call, my fingers unsteady on the receiver. Sam’s voice came through, steady and reassuring despite the chaos. "We’ll pick you up in five minutes," he said, his tone clipped but calm.

I hung up and looked around, the tension still gripping me. To my astonishment, the Winter Soldier had vanished.

Next Chapter

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day twenty-four!)

“how does your hair stay up?” you asked for what was probably the billionth time since you’d met him.

“for fuck’s sake.” bakugo grumbled, sipping at his coffee annoyedly. “it just does, got it?”

“but— physics.” you protest. “and your hair’s got nothing to do with your quirk.” you study it closely. it looked soft.

“do you gel it?” you prod.

“no.”

“hairspray?”

“no.”

“mousse??”

“hell no.”

“you’re a wonder, bakugo.” you sigh, defeated once more.

“yeah, yeah.” the person in question rolled his eyes. “weirdo.”

“but kirishima gels his, doesn’t he?”

“yeah. been doin’ that since high school.” bakugo grunted.

“does he dye it, too, or is it naturally that color?”

“dyes it.”

“what’s his natural color?”

“black.”

“does anyone else dye theirs?”

“nah.”

“have you seen them recently?” you lean against the counter, seemingly done drilling him (for now). bakugo shrugged.

“couple times.” he answered, glancing up at you.

“you should bring them around the shop if you can.” you smile. “i really liked it when kirishima came by.”

“tch. what’s so good about shitty hair?” bakugo grumbled.

“i think he’s sweet.” you shrug, slightly taken aback by the question. what wasn’t good about kirishima? he was incredibly kind.

“whatever.” bakugo was silent for a moment before begrudgingly agreeing. “…i’ll see when he’s free next.”

“thank you!” you break into a grin as bakugo pulled out his phone, texting kirishima (you think).

“monday.”

“so the day after tomorrow, sounds good!” you hum, pausing to glance at the bakery display to make sure it’s in stock. it was, thankfully. you weren’t in the mood to get more bagels anyway, simple as the task was. “i haven’t seen kirishima since the party. is he doing well?”

“he’s fine.” bakugo grumbled.

“do you ever do joint patrols? like, patrols with another person?” you ask curiously.

“i know what a joint patrol is, dumbass.” bakugo rolled his eyes. “and yeah, sometimes i’ll go with some other idiot.”

“like a sidekick? or a pro hero?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“why it’s a joint patrol.”

“okay, then what are some reasons you’d have a joint patrol?”

“y’know, you’re almost as bad as that damn paparazzi.” bakugo glared at you.

“guilty.” you grin, setting your elbow on the counter and resting your chin on your hand. “i’m just curious is all.” bakugo sighed (rather dramatically, you thought) and sipped his coffee before answering.

“sometimes it’s t’ train some sidekick.” he grunted. “other times it’s ‘cuz the damn patrol route is too dangerous.”

“but i thought you had the same route every day?”

“i do.” bakugo huffed. “villains don’t.”

“oh, i see.” you hum thoughtfully. “hey, how are your sidekicks anyway?”

“they’re fine.” bakugo answered shortly.

“what about the one— that one sidekick—“

“yeah, very specific, i know exactly which sidekick you mean.” bakugo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“oh, shut up.” you huff. “the quirkless one.”

“what about ‘im?”

“did you ever figure out his name?” you grin.

“hiro.”

“well, yeah, but his name.”

“his damn name is hiro.”

“oh!” you blink. that went right over your head. embarrassing. “what’s his hero name?”

“hiro.”

“his hero name?”

“yeah. apparently that dumbfuck takes after that damn icyhot.” bakugo scowled.

“icy— icyhot?” you repeat. “like the muscle cream?”

“no, icyhot, the damn hero!” bakugo groaned. “god, i forgot you live under a fucking rock.”

“who’s icyhot then??” you ask desperately.

“…his name’s todoroki or some shit. his hero name’s shoto.” bakugo grumbled finally.

“todoroki? you mean like endeavor?” you tilt your head.

“yeah, that’s his old man.” bakugo answered, sipping his coffee aggressively (again, a wonder).

“i didn’t even know he had kids, wow.” you blink. bakugo gave you a scornful look.

“damn, you are fucking clueless.”

“yes, yes, i’m clueless, moving on.” you roll your eyes playfully as you get yourself a cup of water, having felt slightly thirsty for quite a bit. “hiro. how’s he?”

“doin’ just fine.” bakugo replied, swirling his coffee around in the mug, causing the last little remnants of the coffee grounds in the bottom of the mug to move around within the liquid.

“i’m so glad to hear that.” you sigh. “how old is he?”

“18. fresh outta school.” he said.

“really? and he’s already a sidekick in your agency?” you glance at him, surprised as you sip at your water. bakugo shrugged.

“yeah, well, he earned it.”

“tch. what’s so good about shitty hair?”

(maybe he earned it but maybe it’s also compensating for his behavior against quirkless people when he was younger)

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts! :)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @jazzafaye5294

[teawithnosugar]

Hear it, Feel it, See it (one)

Bff!Ellie x Reader

CW: slight angst, mostly fluff, mentions of drinking WORDS: 1.1k SYNOPSIS: After comforting your best friend during a late night drive, you realize a few things (Modern AU) SONG: You Are In Love - Taylor Swift

"Time moved too fast You play it back"

AN: IT'S ALMOST 5AM AND I'M FINALLY DONE. I DON'T USUALLY WRITE FLUFF SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY :>>>

You lay sprawled on your back, gazing at the ceiling of your dimly lit dorm room, your body adorned with goosebumps that danced on your skin. Yet, it wasn't the chill in the air that brought this physical response. You threw yourself onto your bed 15 minutes ago, still in your shoes, too busy thinking to bother taking them off. Slapping a hand over your eyes, you groaned, the sound of her laughter echoing in your mind again, refusing to fade away.

You sighed frustratedly, the pounding in your head harmonizing with the pounding on your door. You had been trying to sleep for hours, body exhausted but refusing to shut down.

The bed creaked as you lifted your weight off of it. Opening it slightly, you peered through the crack to see who was knocking at 1 in the morning. You threw it open, brows furrowing in worry as your eyes fell on your best friend’s face. Dried tears stained her freckled cheeks and the white around her green irises were pink. Ellie, seldom one to shed tears or seek solace, stood before you, her silent plea for comfort resonating louder than any words could convey. Wordlessly, you gave it to her, pulling her into a hug that she reciprocated tightly. You stayed silent, waiting for her to say something.

“…wanna go on a drive?” Her voice, tired and fragile, whispered into your ear. A small smile and a nod were your response, as you allowed her to take your hand as she led you to the elevator and to her car in the parking lot.

You were both silent as she drove, you sat sideways on the passenger’s seat, watching her with worried eyes as she kept hers on the road in front of her, patiently waiting for her to open up to you.

“Cat and I fought…she threatened to break up with me if I didn’t get my grades up.” Her voice, laced with weariness, carried the weight of her struggle. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She said something about thinking of her future and that I needed to do well in life if I wanted to be a part of it…” she murmured, surrendering to the defeat that clouded her words.

You looked at her with empathy. Her grades had only started to drop when she and Cat got together. She was a genuinely good student but her dedication to her studies gave way to stolen moments and stolen glances. A peculiar anger flickered within your chest whenever she spoke of her girlfriend, yet in this moment, it was overshadowed by a protectiveness. You held back, stifling the surge of fury, knowing that your role now was to offer solace to your best friend.

You gave her a small smile, putting a soft hand on her shoulder.”Ignore her Els, if she doesn’t think you should be a part of her future even after all the things you’ve done with her, then she doesn’t deserve to be a part of yours.” you spoke softly, the weight of your words finding their place within her troubled mind. You knew she would struggle to respond, torn between defending her toxic relationship and acknowledging the truth that resonated within your words.

Sensing the need to shift the atmosphere, to release the tension that lingered between furrowed brows and troubled thoughts. “Anyways, wanna get something to eat? I ate like 5 hours ago and I’m starving,” you chuckled softly, your smile radiating warmth as it finally coaxed the corners of her lips to lift in response.

“Yeah sure, gas station?”

“Mhm!”

As soon as she parked the car, shoulders brushing as you walked side by side into the little gas station store. You were oblivious to the way she glared at a creepy old man staring at you, your attention instead focused on the array of bagels displayed near the counter. The tension in her expression softened as you tugged her towards the enticing spread of food.

“Oh my god I just remembered…did you delete that video you have of me here?” you asked, laughing softly as you paid for your food and hers on the counter. She rolled her eyes playfully, her response resolute. "Nope, never gonna delete it," she declared, a playful tease in her words. You groaned in mock protest.

You, her, Dina and Jesse had gone here after a party last week. You were drunk out of your mind and sobbing on the floor because they ran out of your favorite cookies. Ellie immediately recorded the scene, Dina stifling her laughs as she held you close and Jesse just laughing loudly next to Ellie. You had been begging her to delete it all week, half-heartedly. You loved that she had a video of you she cherished so much but you equally loved the way she laughed, the way she teased, and the way you could ignite that laughter within her.

Your gazes stayed at each other, a silence that spoke more than anything you two currently understood about your friendship. It was the awkward throat clearing of the cashier that broke the spell, drawing your attention back to the present moment. With an apologetic smile, you collected your change and the paper bag.

The drive back home was mostly quiet, save for the sound of your synchronized chewing. Both of you fixated on the road ahead, lost in thoughts that mirrored one another — a shared contemplation of the intangible shifts occurring within your bond. A question lingered, unspoken but ever-present in your minds: ‘What was that?’

As she pulled over in front of your dorm building, you offered her a gentle smile, your voice a soft caress of concern, “you feeling any better?”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours, before finally responding with a smile of her own, a tender radiance that brushed against the edges of her weariness. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a realization. In that fleeting moment, she recognized the safety she had found in your presence, the temporary release from the clutches of her self-doubts and thoughts of Cat. A pang of guilt tried to settle within her, but it faltered, unable to withstand the radiance of your smile, the genuineness of your affection.

You waved at her before exiting the car, and going back to your apartment, mind running wild as you threw yourself onto the bed.

You opened your eyes again, sighing frustratedly at your thoughts.

You could hear it in the silence, you felt it on the way home, and you could see it now with the lights out, you're in love with your best friend.

[kittyfletcher]

ive thoughts abt the b team

ik i already posted abt this but i wanna elab more.

so yall know how in itsv miles throws a bagel at j. ohn, and he becomes the spot, right? and in a deleted scene olivia says "the power of the multiverse in the palm of my hand" in ref to doc oc in spoderman 2. and guess who says that line in spiderverse 2? spot! why am i bringing this up? im using it as an example of the bonkers foreshadowing in spiderverse. Things often go from cameos and gags to something BIG. Like how miguel ended up being the secondary antagonist in spoderverse. He went from popping up at the end in a gag cameo scene, to being the antagonist of the second half of the second act and the entirety of the third act. My point is little things matter here.

That brings me to my next point. Now, I love the B Team, and I jus want to see more of them in the next one so this may be a little biased.

In ATSV, at the start of the third act when Miguel is explaining canon events to Miles, Peni pops up, and is given a single line. Now, most people dont/didnt think of this as more than a cameo. But I am not most people mon frer. They could've done this with anyone else, literally anyone else from the B Team, or just a random Spider-person. They couldve easily replaced her scene with the crowd of Spider People looking at him disappointed. But they didnt. They draw attention to her, they have miles EXPLICITLY Notice Her and even say her name. They show off her new mech and let the cam linger on her face more.

And then, in the third act, when Miles is running through Earth 42's nyc, we see in the reflection of a building he runs past, specifically, Noir, Ham and Peni. Specifically them, even thought they arent plot relevant. You even hear Porker saying "You cant save everyone,", his line from the first film. My question is. Why. Them. The producers couldve easily shown Gwen, Peter, and Miguel, or hell, His Mom, Dad and Uncle Aaron, hell maybe kingpin and doc oc and the spot! They couldve easily replaced Hams line with Uncle Aarons Keep Going line, or Peters Leap Of Faith line that im p sure shows up idk my memories fuzzy, But no. It was specifically *those three. * and That One Line.

And then at the end, when we see Gwens Spider-gang, we see Peni in her crossed arms pose behind Hobie, and Noir / Ham right behind Gwen in front of Margo. And in that very scene, just seconds before, we see Peni, and we see her smirking back at the camera from the corner of her eye. Now why did they specifically decide to give Peni this knowing look? It would've made sense for Hobie, as hes the one who helped Miles get free from Miguels cage, but why Peni. Last time we saw her she looked depressed, she looked tired.

Now, here is the crux of my theory. I believe, that just like in ITSV, BTSV is gonna come full circle, and make the B-Team extremely plot relevant. I feel like the producers are dropping little breadcrumbs relating to the plot, but not making it so obvious we immediately catch on. Much like The Spot and The Bagel Incident and Miguel and Miles' Spider and the constant showings-up of the number 42.

In ITSV, Peni is literally the one that gets them all to their home dimensions, she is the one that made the new goober, and got them all home. So I feel like she will play a big role in defeating The Spot. And call me crazy, but I feel like her standing behind Hobie at the end might mean that she works with him to create something that will defeat Spot, or make something that will help, most likely relating to the collider, since Hobie did make their watches.

And, vis-a-vis, Ham and Noir (along with Peni and SP//dr's dismembered arm), play a part in defeating Scorpion and Tombstone, and while they werent extremely important to the Plot, they where part of the Sinister 6, and they where the antagonists of ITSV after all. Next to King Pin, that is. All three of them also took out the alchemax employees (Gwen got sidetracked seeing Miles come back tho), and since Miguel is more a man of hand-to-hand and melee combat unlike spot and his portal fuckery, I feel as though they will be pretty instrumental to defeating Miguel, and maybe, his Migbot (cuz of the concept art that got leaked recently).

(Another thing i wanna discuss is the possibility of doc oc making a comeback in BTSV cuz last we saw of her she did get hit by a truck, but in a deleted scene it shows her throwing herself into the collider, but thats another subject for another time.)

[the-himawari]

A3! Tsukioka Tsumugi - Translation [SSR] MANKAI Feature (2/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Tsumugi: I visit this café a lot with Banri-kun. But you and I have come here before as well, right, Tsuzuru-kun?

Tsuzuru: It’s been a while since I’ve been here… As usual, it’s so trendy, I’m shaking in my boots.

Tsumugi: Ahaha. No need to worry about that.

Tsuzuru: Anyways, about what we were talking about before…

Tsumugi: Right, right. My request.

Tsuzuru: Up until now, I’ve written most of the side characters’ spin-off stories by listening to the actors’ requests. So, do you have any requests? What kind of story you would like me to write for Izumi Ryohei?

Tsumugi: Well… nothing pops into my mind. That’s why I was thinking I would like to read the Izumi Ryohei that’s written by you, his creator… But then you went out of your way to reach out to me. I thought I might be able to come up with some good ideas if we discussed in a comfortable location such as this.

Tsuzuru: I see… that’s what you were thinking, huh? There were troupe members who left their spin-off script to me. But you’ve prepared an opportunity for us to chat. So I’d also like to use your thoughts as reference, Tsukioka-san.

Tsumugi: I appreciate it. Ah, but how about we finish our food first?

Tsuzuru: Sure.

-pause-

Tsuzuru: This bagel sandwich tastes amazing.

Tsumugi: Doesn’t it? I like it too. By the way, Franz was chosen from Hisoka-kun’s side character survey, was that right? So, I thought “Nocturnality” itself must be quite popular… I figured there might be lots of people who want to know and get an in-depth look at what kind of person “Izumi Ryohei” is. He is a man of many mysteries, isn’t he?

Tsuzuru: I see. That’s true. What kind of interpretation did you have when you played Izumi back then?

Tsumugi: Fufu, you’re just like an interviewer. Let me think… Since Izumi is an exorcist, when he watched movies where vampires appear as the enemy—. It increased his hatred of people being deceived… and his desire to defeat them.

Tsuzuru: …! (It kind of felt like he was possessed by Izumi himself for a moment.) You’ve been well prepared for your role ever since back then, Tsukioka-san.

Tsumugi: Oh, no. I still have a long way to go. Also, I recall… ah, I tried reading the bible. At that time, Homare-san taught me the phrase, “the devil is a liar”.

Tsuzuru: A liar?

Tsumugi: In Christianity, the devil is a “liar”. That’s what it says in the bible as well. Those words Homare-san taught me had such an impact, I even wrote them down on a note.

Tsuzuru: “The devil is a liar”… I see. I think I got some super good material through your story on how you prepared for your role! Thanks so much.

Tsumugi: Fufu. I’m glad if you say so.

---

previous | next

[steelandsummerlocke]

Another night, another attempt at the Nuzlocke!

“Our night started out with 20 minutes of training before we both went to fight in the Pewter City Gym. Training went well, Gladiolus learned Vine Whip and got up to level 13. The timer went off, we walked into the gym. The trainer named Liam was first, with a Geodude and a Sandshrew. Geodude went down in a single hit from Gladiolus, and the Sandshrew was down in two. After a quick healing from a Potion it was time for Brock. Like with Liam, Gladiolus and I made quick work of his Geodude and Onix, defeating each of them with a single Vine Whip. A badge and the Rock Tomb TM in hand, we dropped off Maus and Ricardo in the PC for safe keeping as I didn’t think they fit the team very well, and we headed for Route 3. Here Gladiolus and Gale fought valiantly against the many trainers and it was eventually time for the Route 3 encounter. A wild Spearow appeared! Unfortunately for me, a single tackle from the now evolved Gladiolus took it out and that makes a second Route that we failed (but maybe not 😏). Gale also evolved after a bit of training, and the three of us headed into the Pokemon Center on Route 3 right before Mt. Moon. I had forgot! There is a man who would sell us a very expensive Magikarp, but buying Pokemon is allowed in our rules as long as we hadn’t caught anything in that location, so I added Angela the Magikarp to the team! (She’s a nightmare to train). With confidence I next headed into Mt. Moon, excited to catch a Geodude and… it was a Zubat… Now listen, Crobat is a favorite of mine but for this run I was really hoping for that Rock type Pokemon. Oh well, welcome Willem, you’re also hard to train. The five of us cleared the ground floor of Mt. Moon together before we set up camp to wait for Katana. That’s it for tonight!” - Sikká

“Today’s adventure was packed full of surprises, excitement, and unfortunately, sadness, as we bid one of our battling friends goodbye…

Starting out in Pewter town, Sikká and I decided we would give ourselves a set amount of time to train up our pokémon before facing our first gym leader, Brock of the rock type gym! Thankfully, Hamhock fearlessly leading the team with a grassy advantage, Brock was the one between a rock and a hard place. The team got our first badge, and headed out to face a veritable army of bug-catching, shorts-wearing elementary school trainers.

Though the team was not quite ready level-wise for most of these trainer battles, we made sure to take time to heal in-between when we could. Unfortunately, this did not stop tragedy from striking, as the last trainer we faced had a Spearow just 1 level higher than Spacob. He wanted to accept the challenge, but in the end, the enemy Spearow was too fast and we lost our good feathered friend…

But Spacob would want us to carry on.

With a light under our tushies and a fowl-shaped hole in our hearts, we moved on to route 3 to meet a new friend, a Nidoran by the name of Bagel bite, and let me tell you, that bagel can bite. He was a quick train, eagerly taking the lead to train up to his friends’ level and really making a space for himself on the team. Taking a rest at the Poké center to do some journaling with a jelly donut snack, we eventually moved on into our first caves, the eerie Mt. Moon.

For the final catch of the day, we made contact with a local Geodude named Dishwasher, a dandy fellow with a charming smile. Eager to waste no time, Dishwasher showed us to a local spot in the cave no one would find us, and we rested for the night.” - Katana