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squish36-writes-and-draws · 2 years ago

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All the Lemon Squares Argon

Summary: Another renamed fanfic from my creative writing class, this one's assignment was to use setup and payoff in a major element of the story. In the story, Fitz and Dex have a final chemistry presentation project where Fitz has chosen to bake lemon squares, but they've been stolen. I'm not sorry for the pun that is the title.

Word count: 6946

Tw: mild sexual innuendo, jokes about poisoning baked goods, food

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum @loveution @notyourlegacygirl

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Fitz doesn't even get a chance to sit down next to Dex before Dex’s gorgeous periwinkle eyes glitter up at him with a thousand new ideas. This is going to be…interesting.

“What if we could get powdered galactose? Or lactose? Hm. That’s probably not the best idea. Milk sugar might do weird things chemically. Although that might be the fact that it’s a solution of water and butterfat. Or we could get fructose. That should work.”

He’s so pretty when he gets like this—especially when I can’t understand half of what he’s saying and I know I’ve missed a lot of context.

“We’ve already decided on the parameters of the experiment. We are going to stick with the plan,” Fitz pleads, trying to appeal to Dex’s sense of pretending to be organized.

It doesn’t work very well.

“What about aspartame? Or Splenda? Is that a brand name? Yeah, it probably is. I should look that one up before putting it in the presentation. Generic Splenda.”

“Dex,” Fitz starts, hoping Dex’s name recognition reflex is strong enough to get through this whirlwind of thoughts. “We are not doing any more of this. We have enough. It’ll be fine.”

“I wonder what the sweetest one is. Then again, that might not be the best option. Ratios and all that.”

An image of the crumbly mess that would follow flashes through Fitz’s mind. He’s forgotten sugar before and it was not a fun result. Better than the three sticks of butter incident in terms of the clean-up, but at least that remained edible. Not that the sugarless one was inedible—that’s a very difficult bar to overcome, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“It would. But, honey, will you please—”

“Yeah, honey would be fun!”

I was calling you that. I realize my error now.

Dex’s tirade is finally ended by the school bell ringing in the last hour of the day. It takes a solid five minutes for Mr. Sweeney to take attendance and get the presentation loaded for the group unlucky enough to get drafted on this fine spring Monday.

Because AP Chem isn’t already enough of a land of suffering, Mr. Sweeney has graciously decided to fill the time between the exam and the final with a little presentation on whatever chemistry experiment each pair of lab partners wants to do.

It can be live or in a video that contains both of you, and it should be relatively safe. This group—composed of Stina and Rissa—has decided that they want to spend an absurd length of time talking about baking soda. Heating it up, predicting the products, hearing about both its and sodium carbonate’s use. Because those are definitely not the same thing. One is used in baking and the other is used in soap. Our class is all in for a riveting ten minutes.

Fitz is pretty sure they just found a lab on the internet and followed it, which is a valid method to do things. Once you’ve crossed that mental boundary, though, you should at least try to find an interesting one. He’s heard one group arguing about plating a penny in brass or something. That’s fun.

It might be considered defacing currency, but it could easily be argued that that’s the appeal of it.

But no. They get to sit there for ten whole minutes, and half of that time is waiting for the sample to heat. Curse you, thermodynamics. Dex doesn’t stop suggesting ideas for how they could embellish their own presentation in a few short days, but Fitz isn’t even sure they’re going to finish what they already have on the agenda.

While they’re painfully waiting for the baking soda to heat up enough that it decomposes, Dex asks on the lab table in blue, fine tip expo marker, How are the lemon squares going?

The big idea for their project is that they’re going to be taking glucose and sucrose and seeing what happens when they react with Benedict’s Solution. Who’s Benedict? Some guy, probably. It’s a shame they’ve turned him into a soup. At least he’s blue from the copper(II) ions.

Fitz should know this by now, but that’s what Wikipedia at two in the morning the night it’s due is for.

Anyway, it turns orange in the presence of a reducing sugar, like glucose, and doesn’t react with others, like sucrose. Why do we care about those two? They were the most easily commercially available and it’s taken until today for Dex to start suggesting more sugars for them to try.

They’re also performing a taste experiment between lemon squares made with glucose and those made with sucrose. It’s good practice to bring the audience snacks while presenting.

Of course, it was a whole process choosing the variety of pastry to be used in this project. As in, Dex asked really nicely for it to be lemon squares—puppy dog eyes and all— and Fitz is incapable of telling him no. It was also convenient that the recipe Fitz had didn’t use brown sugar, and could thus be closer to a controlled test.

I made some last night, Fitz replies, and Dex has begun doodling either a chocolate chip cookie or an asteroid on his side of the table. It’s the most precious thing Fitz has ever owned and he will cherish it forever.

Dex pauses his masterpiece to say, That’s good.

Yeah, um, so, about that, Fitz barely manages to write around Dex’s arm, this morning I woke up to find them disappeared.

Dex has to erase some of the previous conversation to ask, Well, what’d you do with them?

I remember specifically putting them into the back of the cabinet above the microwave.

And they weren’t there this morning?

Nope.

That marks the first time Dex has stopped talking long enough to think for the first time since last Wednesday.

Fitz erases a space to write, smearing a haze of blue across the table.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll make more tonight.

And then those are going to disappear.

I’ll put them somewhere else.

Until that gets raided too.

Then I’ll make MORE.

I don’t think you have that many eggs.

That’s why grocery stores exist.

Before they know it, the presentation is over, and it doesn’t really affect a whole lot. There’s three presentations a day. It’s still going to take a week to get through all of them, but it does make it so that it doesn’t take longer than that. And that’s somewhat relevant.

This next one is over the most classic science fair project of all time: the baking soda volcano. It’s not surprising that Jensi and Valin are the ones to try to blow up the classroom.

Dex writes the chemical reaction on the table with accompanying chemical structures before they’ve even gotten off the title slide.

NaHCO3 + HC2H3O2 → NaH2C3O2 + CO2 + H2O

Jensi also takes his time explaining acid-base chemistry like we’re all fifth graders, which likely isn’t that far off. “You see, class, baking soda, or sodium bicarbonate, is a base, which means that when it comes into contact with water, it is able to rip off some of water’s hydrogen atoms, resulting in an increase in hydroxide ions. And then when vinegar, also called acetic acid, is dissolved in water, it releases hydrogen atoms, forming hydronium ions. Do any of you remember the chemical formula for hydronium?

Crickets fill the room as Dex writes H3O+ on the desk without a single thought. Mr. Sweeney is probably off crying in the corner as their final grades slip lower and lower.

“That’s alright,” Valin continues, “it’s combining the two reactants that’s the fun part. When an acid and a base come into contact with one another, they undergo a double replacement reaction. In this case, sodium and hydrogen switch places.”

The presentation flips to the next slide, filling in the products of the reaction as CH3COONa + H2CO3.

Sodium acetate can be written either the way Valin and Jensi did or the way Dex did. It’s a matter of preference or something about organic chemistry. Now, carbonic acid, on the other hand, is a bit more of an issue.

Jensi points at the second term. “But that’s not its final form. This last reactant here breaks apart into water and carbon dioxide, so there’s a second reaction inside of the normal reaction.”

Yes, yes, we all know how carbonates work, Dex writes.

Fitz laughs silently.

“And, with all that in mind,” Jensi flips to the next slide and lowers his goggles from his forehead to where they’re supposed to go over his eyes in true mad scientist fashion. “It’s time for eruption.”

Everyone has seen a baking soda volcano before. It’s not surprising when it bubbles up and oozes out of the beaker that Jensi and Valin didn’t even bother to make look like a volcano. It is nice to note that they did bring food coloring to make the lava foam orange and didn’t get it on the ceiling, which is a win for everyone.

And then Dex has to ruin it. Did you know this reaction is actually endothermic?

That’s big fancy chemistry words for “it gets cold.” Curse you, thermodynamics. Lava isn’t supposed to be cold. Fitz is going to personally take this up with the second law of thermodynamics. It’s not going to work, but entropy deserves to feel bad about what it’s doing.

Valin and Jensi putz around for another five minutes after their initial volcano has stopped reacting, mostly just adding more vinegar or baking soda at random intervals to see how the increase in concentration affects the rate of the reaction. Definitely not just standing around to run down the clock for the next group.

That next group is the brassing a penny group, and it takes them so long to get to their experiment, the entire class is freed from the confines of the school building before it’s over. Except for Fitz. He still has to play chess for an hour.

It comes and goes with more blunders than Fitz would care to admit, but that very quickly doesn’t matter when he shows up at Dex’s house to work on homework. And by “work on homework” he means “desperately hope that he doesn’t get horrifically distracted before they accomplish a nonzero amount of progress on the chem project.” It doesn’t seem likely.

And then that probability crashes to zero.

Dex is found standing in his room at a bulletin board, winding a red string around thumb tacks stabbed into sticky notes.

In the middle is a picture of Fitz and a torn-off corner of notebook paper with a three dimensional lemon square drawn on it. Fitz can tell it’s a lemon square because it’s been messily colored in with a yellow crayon that doesn’t show up very well.

“Do I want to ask?” Fitz asks hesitantly.

Dex smiles into the board. “No, I don’t think you do. But that doesn’t stop me from explaining it. Here in the middle is you, of course. There’s only a few people that know that we’re baking for this project and that I made you do it.”

“How do we know that the person who took them even knows about the project? Do you not realize how often I find myself baking? I have a problem.

“Good point.” Dex adds a lopsided question mark to the sticky note with the word ‘project.’ “That doesn’t really change who might have had access to the stash. Which is where our suspects come in.”

Dex turns to face Fitz, gesturing widely toward the board like any of it makes sense. His handwriting is absolutely atrocious right now, a sure sign that he’s put more thought into this than it deserves.

“Our first suspect is Keefe. I don’t trust him. He’s got a long history of making things disappear. Case in point: Mrs. Cuddles. One day, she was here in all of her stuffed animal glory and the next, we’ve never seen her again.”

“We never proved that it was Keefe.”

“Well, we really should get around to doing that.” Dex points very intentionally at nothing. “He is also likely to know you well enough to know where you would hide things.”

“You have fun asking him. I’m not interrogating my best friend.”

Dex’s eyes glimmer, and Fitz knows all hope is lost. “We should absolutely do an interrogation! With threats and everything!”

“Until he asks for a lawyer,” Fitz deadpans, trying to calm down Dex’s racing thoughts. This is both a common situation and one that Fitz is very bad at de-escalating.

“Your dad could be his lawyer.”

“I feel like that would make things objectively worse.”

“Yeah, it probably would. I think we should declare independence and therefore we don’t have to comply with constitutional rights. Who needs those anyway?”

Fitz blinks. He expected for Dex to increase his outlandish ideas in a short amount of time, but not that quickly.

“I mean, if you wanted to take the ‘the first amendment protects you from the government, not the Dex’ approach, that would be entirely reasonable without having to prove sovereignty. That would take a while.”

Dex smiles. “I forgot about that. That’s perfect. When do you think you can take Keefe into custody?”

“I’m not doing it, you do it.” Fitz pauses, trying to think of a good reason why because he clearly did not think through the implications of this before saying it. “You’re the lead investigator here. You’ve got the corkboard and everything. I’m just a guy who happens to be here.”

Dex looks at him, not believing any of what he just said to be true, but accepting it as fact anyway.

“Please don’t let this end with Keefe having a restraining order against us,” Fitz adds.

“I make no promises, sweetheart.”

Fitz’s faded, once-pink hair falls into his face as he pushes his glasses up to pinch his nose.

Why did I know that was going to be his response?

Fitz shouldn’t be surprised the next day after school to find Dex in his basement, Keefe sitting at an old wooden table, the lights dimmed as low as possible before total darkness. The incandescent bulbs don’t much like this as they flutter in pain like they’re having a little bit of a stroke.

“About time,” Dex says, leaning against the wall.

Fitz turns on the lights. “This needs to be taken down about three notches. Keefe, I’m sorry he’s like this.”

“I’m not,” Dex and Keefe reply in alarming unison.

What did I sign myself up for and why do I do this to myself?

“Dex, if you would please proceed with the reason we have gathered y’all here today, that’d be great. Some of us have homework that we actually do,” Fitz suggests.

“That’s what study hall is for,” Keefe replies.

Dex interjects, “No, study hall is for Wordle.”

“That’s what English is for.”

“No, that’s when you do the homework you didn’t finish at home or in study hall.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s almost fair.”

It isn’t often that Dex concedes a point in an argument. Or maybe Fitz isn’t good at arguing with him. Fitz is very distractible when it comes to Dex and that might affect his debate skills. Or it could be that he knows Dex will pout for a month and a half if he’s proven wrong, and Fitz just lets him believe that he’s right. Yeah, that’s it.

Dex bounces off of the wall and slides into the chair across from Keefe. Fitz takes a seat, off center, directly next to Dex, close enough that Dex’s infamous left handed elbow jabs are a serious threat.

“First, I would like to confirm that you are, in fact, Keefe Sencen. Is this accurate information?”

“What, no middle name?” He looks at Fitz. “Do you not know it?”

A smirk tries to blossom on Keefe’s lips but quickly gets shut down by Fitz’s own.

“I absolutely know what it is. I didn’t think you wanted to acknowledge how you were named after your father, considering everything.”

Dex continues, “This is not a government-sanctioned interrogation, and, as such, you are not entitled to any of the protections provided by the Bill of Rights. Miranda rights do not apply here. You are not getting a lawyer unless you want one of my siblings, who are, by the way, not recognized by the bar association.”

“This is quickly sounding like more and more of a trap.”

“It’s like five questions. You’ll be fine. The most severe sentence you will receive is mild disappointment.”

Keefe gasps sarcastically. “Not that, never that. How am I going to cope?”

“On the seventh of November of this year, it was discovered that a tray of lemon squares went missing. Do you know anything about this?” Dex asks.

“No,” Keefe replies, fast enough to not think but not too fast to be suspicious.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Fitz adds, “They would have been above my microwave.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Keefe shifts his attention to Fitz. “You made lemon squares and didn’t tell me?”

“I guess you should’ve taken chem with me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have gotten them either way, considering they’ve been stolen. But, now I know you have a recipe for them, which means I have the ability to annoy you enough to convince you to make them. Who’s the real winner here?”

“So you’re sure that you didn’t take them? You’re not just being difficult because that’s your only personality trait?”

“Actually, I have two. Beauty is a personality trait. But I was very unaware of that particular stash. The one under your bed and in the back of the lazy susan are less safe.”

Fitz swears. “I just found that one a week ago and now you’re telling me I have to find yet another one?”

“You could always use your closet. You’ve already got everything else in there.”

Dex snorts.

“You knowing where it is would take away the whole concept of it being a hiding place. And then you’d figure out how to sell it on the black market.”

“I wouldn’t do that. That would risk my own stash. Although your sister is going to stiff it out with that bloodhound nose of hers faster than I’ll be able to raid it.”

Dex interrupts, “Do you think there is a possibility that Biana was the one to find the lemon squares?”

“Possibility? Absolutely. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have been your first suspect. She literally lives in the same house as the lemon squares. She would’ve had the largest window of opportunity.”

“Like you aren’t there almost as much.”

“That’s because Biana is usually off gallivanting with her friends.”

Keefe has a slight inflection on the word “friends,” but what he’s trying to imply there remains unclear. Knowing both of them, it’s probably more than a little gay.

Fitz waits a beat before saying, “I’ve got to go get to making another batch. If more go missing, I want you to expect that we will be seeing you again.”

“I also expect you to come to us, whether it be in person, in an overcomplicated disaster of scavenger hunt clues, or anywhere in between, if you find out any information. We can offer a better bribe than those other people can.”

“Dex,” Fitz hisses.

“What? It’s accurate. It’s not like this is going to lead to a crime syndicate,” Dex replies.

“You never know. Alvar could be involved.”

“He probably still thinks of you as a fifth grader. I know I do the same with my siblings, and I see them every day. Unfortunately. But that means he likely believes that you shouldn’t be trusted to operate the oven on your own.”

“Unless he’s been purposely watching you only to ruin your final project,” Keefe suggests.

Fitz holds his head in his hands. “There’s no reason to exaggerate this as much as you are. Next you’re going to be telling me that I should poison the next batch to find out who took them.”

“That’s actually a good solution,” Dex says. “You’d make sure there are no more stolen lemon squares…after those, at least.”

A couple of bitter almonds crushed up into the crust would make that far easier than it should be. Cyanide is known for being delicious.

…And that’s exactly why I shouldn’t be allowed access to Biana’s Amazon Prime account.

“Are we done here?” Fitz asks tiredly. “Or are you two going to come up with a conspiracy theory to explain the entirety of thermodynamics or something? And do I really have to be here for that?”

“Hey, there’s probably a fourth secret law of thermo somewhere,” Dex argues.

“There already is. The zeroth law. If A is in equilibrium with B and A is in equilibrium with C, then B is in equilibrium with C, remember? You’d need a secret fifth law, and at that point, that’s unrealistic.”

Dex laughs.

“Please don’t figure out a way to violate any of the laws while I’m gone. I don’t want to deal with the consequences of that. That would imply that the project would have to change and I’m not putting that much effort in between now and Friday.”

“I hope you know that’s my goal in life now.”

“I knew it would be.” Fitz sighs silently. “I’ve got too much homework to keep following this conversation. Just have fun doing whatever it is you find yourself doing this evening.”

“Let me know if you need distracting from your homework.”

I give myself fifteen minutes before I’m going to be taking you up on that offer. “I won’t, thanks. Have a nice evening.”

“I won’t. And I’m sure you won’t either.”

Keefe snorts.

“Both of y’all are legally required to have a nice evening. Because I said so. And now I’m going to leave you to it.”

Fitz leaves without any more argument, because he’s had enough of that for today. There’s a limited amount of coherent thoughts he can have while being faced with Dex’s dimples and that number is very, very low.

The next day interviewing—interrogating—Biana goes much the same as Keefe. Which is to say, it’s a complete waste of time for everyone involved. She threatens them slightly more, but that’s to be expected.

Fitz spends far too many hours reading scientific papers about glucose and sucrose and a few other sugars just for fun instead of working on the actual project part of the project.

It’s to make it as accurate as possible. Yeah. That’s why he didn’t get to bed until two in the morning.

That might also be due to the fact that he spent a few hours surveying his house to look for the most advantageous spot to hide the next batch of lemon squares—and with two slices per person in class, it’s not particularly easy to find anywhere even remotely helpful.

There aren’t a whole lot of viable options left between Keefe and Biana’s incessant searching for hidden snacks in the walls. Even behind the fish tank in his dad’s office is no longer safe.

Eventually, he finds a light fixture that will surprisingly work quite well. They might get a little warm from the heat given off by the lights if they’re turned on. Curse you, thermodynamics. They’ll be fine.

Then, and only then, at like two in the morning, is he able to make more. Most of their cooking time is being stuck in the fridge and it gets left there overnight.

The next day is Thursday, and Thursdays are good days. Neither Dex nor Fitz have anything to do after school, which means Fitz can drive Dex home.

“I made more lemon squares last night.”

“Oh? And how did that go?” Dex asks, staring firmly out the window.

“Well, they weren’t there when I checked them again in the morning.”

Dex swears. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“Not unless I don’t let them out of my sight until tomorrow morning when I let Sweeney take custody of them. Do you think I could maybe make and leave them at your house? I don’t want to get up at four in the morning and that’s pretty much my only other option. I’m not staying up all night just to make them at a reasonable time.”

“I would rather gouge my eyes out with my pencil than wake up at that heinous hour. Good luck to both you and your sanity. Stars know I’m not going to be doing that. I’d pull another all-nighter before I do that one.”

It takes a second and a half for Fitz to realize what Dex just said.

“What do you mean ‘another’ all-nighter? Dex, we’ve been working on this.”

“Well, we’ve also been working on this project for a few too many days for me to just ignore this whole mystery situation we’ve got going on.” Dex’s voice cracks. “I have to solve this problem. I have to find out what happened. We’re going to be very lucky if I get anything tonight.”

“Then I guess we just have to make sure you don’t think about the problem. If we don’t think about it, it doesn’t exist.”

“You’re not playing the object permanence game with me today, Fitz. We all know I’m going to lose and I don’t like doing that.”

“There’s no such thing as losing. Either you win the game and pass out in the middle of our presentation tomorrow, pushing it to Monday as you get dragged to the nurse’s office, or you get to sleep.”

Dex sighs. “You do raise a fair point. I can’t get on a first name basis. Keefe and Sophie may have been the first to accomplish that particular honor, but that doesn’t mean they’re ever going to let me live it down.”

That wasn’t the point I was trying to make, but whatever works, my darling.

Fitz reaches over and gently squeezes Dex’s hand. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not failing a project over this. That’s not something I’m physically capable of doing. Besides, if something does happen, we’ve still got Benedict’s solution and a hot water bath. It’s not as fun or as memorable, but it’s functional.”

“Ah, yes, copper sulfate soup. I’m sure it’s very tasty.”

“The forbidden gatorade. The fact that it’s that shade of delicious, delicious blue is so unfair on so many levels.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Well, it’s not my fault it looks so drinkable. Also, you’re a very bad influence on me.” Fitz smiles.

“I know. But I’m just picking up what Keefe started. Can you feel the corruption sinking into your bone marrow?”

“Yeah.” Fitz says bluntly.

They unceremoniously get out of the car, and Fitz leads the both of them towards the kitchen. They’re trying to be productive today and making another batch of lemon squares before sitting down and getting distracted seems like something productive.

He checked after Biana’s interview yesterday to see if Dex’s house had all of the ingredients, and for some unknown reason, they did. Why do they own so much glucose? Normal table sugar is sucrose. That would be reasonable. Glucose is not.

It might be a little out of date, but at this point, Fitz’s just hoping to not have to do the conversion from baking powder to baking soda. After making the crust and throwing it in the oven, he discovers that his hopes aren’t fulfilled.

How am I supposed to measure a sixth of a teaspoon of baking soda?

And also, why does this always happen? They should really standardize this. Make everyones’ lives easier.

Just to be even more difficult, it decides to spill onto his shirt, right next to the flour and powdered sugar from the crust. Flour has no reason to get everywhere and yet it does.

Dex leans over the kitchen island where he’s seated, looking up from his phone for the first time in several minutes. “Am I going to be allowed to quality control these?”

“No. We barely have enough for our victims—sorry, classmates—as it is.”

Dex snorts. “Have you poisoned these again? Fitz, we talked about this. This is a crime against humanity.”

Fitz finishes whisking the second lemon filling—the sucrose one—and the oven timer goes off a few moments later. He checks the crusts, and they’re both beautifully golden brown.

I need to bake here more often. This oven is better than the one at home.

“Says the guy voted most likely to become a dictator by our chem class.”

“That simply means I know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s funny, because I’ve never known what I was talking about in my life.”

“That seems like a you problem.”

Fitz pours the filling into their proper crusts—differentiable by one of glucose’s corners being less than all the way to the corner—before sliding both pans back into the oven.

That can be Dex’s piece. I just can’t tell him that yet.

“Do you have any other homework tonight?” Fitz asks, leaning across the island counter to match Dex.

“That really is your only mode of conversation, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s sad, isn’t it? I’d ask if you had any new personal projects going, but I think I know the answer to that.”

“You do?”

“You’re fully occupied solving my life’s problems. You don’t have enough time to start something else.”

“It’s lines of reasoning like that one that make me want to start a new project just to prove you wrong, and I hope you know that.”

“And now I can ask you very nicely to channel that feeling and work on the presentation we have tomorrow. Unless you forgot that it was tomorrow. Did I mention it was tomorrow? We have a presentation tomorrow and we are extraordinarily unprepared.”

Dex tilts his head, considering. “No, I don’t think you did,” he replies flatly.

“So do you think it might be a good idea to get the slides open so that progress can be made towards readiness?”

“No,” Dex replies, getting his laptop out of his backpack and hitting the keyboard approximately fifty percent more than necessary to make it turn on and start functioning.

Its fan immediately starts running, producing a high-pitched whine on top of the normal laptop fan sounds.

Dex smacks the side of the keyboard, likely an effort to make it stop doing that. It doesn’t. “Curse you, thermodynamics,” he whispers, along with a few stronger suggestions for what friction can do to itself.

“I’m going to be hunted for sport if Bex hears this. I’m going to my room. If you need me, you can literally just text me. You’ve done it before. I believe in you.”

I don’t know which one of your siblings that is, but I’m not letting you go back in that room while that cork board is still there. I need a focused Dex and that would not be a focused Dex.

“Or we could head down into the basement,” Fitz suggests. “I can probably still hear the oven going off from down there and being in the room where we interrogated our suspects seems kind of fitting.”

“That’s fair,” Dex says, picking up his still-open backpack and laptop as he begins to descend the stairs.

Fitz tries to brush away some of the suspicious white powder dusting the front of his shirt. It doesn’t do a whole lot, but maybe now it won’t be as ground into the carpet lining the stairs and lower level.

Fitz finds Dex arguing with one of his siblings—it might be Lex, but it’s difficult to tell. All of their names rhyme because their dad thinks he’s hilarious, only making Fitz’s life more difficult.

“Why are you turning down the opportunity to go trash my entire room?” Dex demands.

“Why are you so willing to give me that opportunity? Last time you were this agreeable, you planted stink bombs under your bed!”

“To be fair, that was objectively hilarious.”

Maybe-Lex smiles. “It was fun banishing Rex outside for a week.”

I remember that happening.

“Just find somewhere else to go live for the next couple of hours. If that ends up being outside, that’s your problem. I have the Fitz and since he’s a guest in our house, that means he, and by extension I, have superiority.”

The corners of Fitz’s mouth widen into a smile and his heart flutters slightly.

Hearing him use that argument never gets old. It’s kind of pathetic. I’m kind of pathetic.

More-than-likely-Lex huffs and stomps up the stairs. The carpet muffles most of his anger.

“Sorry about him,” Dex says as he sits at the table, friction causing the laptop to shriek as he slides it back because he put it down too close to the edge. Fitz’s ears want to bleed. At least the journey got the fan to stop screeching for whatever reason.

Fitz takes a seat across from him, the chair still ominously warm from probably-Lex sitting there. And then, from the all-encompassing silence left behind, comes the sound of Pop Rocks emanating from the table itself.

Fitz looks up to find Dex moving his laptop to the far end of the table so he can get a closer look.

“What on Earth was Lex doing here?” Dex whispers to himself.

Ah, so I was right on which one it was.

That’s not the takeaway you were supposed to make there.

Fitz shrugs.

Dex pokes the table. “It’s sticky.”

“Now I definitely don’t want to know.”

“Not like that. Get your mind out of—” An idea blossoms in Dex’s mind, and without any warning or elaboration, he runs upstairs.

A cabinet slams closed. “Where’d you put the baking soda?”

“To the right of the pantry, top cabinet, bottom shelf, right side.”

“Thank you!” he yells, running back down the stairs and to the table, becoming a living example of the doppler effect. He pours far more than the recommended serving size of baking soda onto the table, and the popping sound intensifies.

Dex swears triumphantly.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No,” he says, looking at Fitz, dimples prominent and so close Fitz could probably count his freckles. “Bicarbonates react with acids to form a salt, water, and carbon dioxide.”

“I know. Why is that relevant right now?”

“I just dumped an entire mountain of baking soda on the table and it started reacting with whatever Lex left there. That means whatever he left there was more than likely an acid. And, no, it’s not that kind of acid. Probably. It wouldn’t leave gook on the table like that.”

Fitz’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t ask why Dex would have this information. The answer is probably a Wikipedia rabbit hole. “Do you know what it could be then?”

“This isn’t a very helpful answer, but, no, I don’t, and I don’t know what other tests I can do to narrow it down from literally everything else.”

“Don’t you literally carry around a gallon of Benedict’s solution? I fully believe there’s something in your backpack that can solve this conundrum.”

“Not quite that much, but, yeah, I’ve got some. For reasons we do not discuss.”

It’s because it’s the forbidden gatorade flavor.

“I’ve got the oven going if you need hot water. If that would help. I don’t know. There’s a reason I just let you do the chem labs without getting myself between you and a bottle of one-molar HCl.”

“That’s a valid solution to the problem. I wouldn’t get between me and my son HCl either. Benedict’s might be helpful. Then we’ll be able to figure out where to go from there.”

“The presence of reducing sugars,” Fitz corrects, and he feels way too proud of himself at knowing that fact. Even when Dex already knows it.

Dex grumbles, “Close enough.”

He runs back upstairs to get a spoon and a small glass, filled with a tiny splash of water. He scrapes off a corner, and it forms an off-white peak on the edge of the spoon before it gets dunked into the water and swirled into solution. A few added drops of Benedict's solution makes it a pale blue color before Dex runs it back upstairs once again to throw it in the oven.

“That glass better not shatter into my lemon squares!” Fitz yells, but Dex probably isn’t listening. One must respect the science, and the lemon squares get to deal with the collateral damage.

Yeah, the crunchy topping is on purpose. It’s isomalt. Totally.

Dex spends a very long thirty seconds pacing, the floorboards creaking with every step he takes.

He was probably counting in his head, because when he decides the timer is up, he’s running, once again, to the oven to get the sample out.

“It’s orange!” Dex yells, echoing through the house. That must be a wild sentence out of context.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“That means you’re gonna move on to the next phase of inquiry: the smell test.”

“Why aren’t you doing it?”

“Do you really think I just let you sniff the chemicals in the lab for fun? I don’t smell things very well. I’ve got a library of, like, five things, and even then it has to have a lot of smell for me to even be slightly aware of its presence. We’ve been over this.”

There’s so many reasons why this could very easily be a very bad idea, some of them involving ammonium hydroxide or chemicals like it, but Fitz is just going to trust Dex’s omnipotent chemistry knowledge. He’s done it all year, and he’s not failing AP chem yet.

So long as Fitz is well enough to take the final so that he can definitely not cheat off Dex on it, it should be fine.

Dex comes rushing back down the stairs, nearly spilling the forbidden now-orange juice on the carpet.

He finds Fitz trying to waft the airborne aromatic molecules into the air, his nose slowly inching closer and closer to it.

Something registers, and he has to have smelled it wrong. His brows knit together. “There’s citrus in there.”

The pieces click together—the smell, the stickiness, the presence of reducing sugars in a place where they typically wouldn’t be, and the acid. Citric acid, malic acid, ascorbic acid. Maybe some other acids.

“...These are the lemon squares.�� Fitz takes a deep breath, before quietly asking, a dark undercurrent running through his words, “Have you been the one taking them?”

After all this, all the work Dex has claimed to have done to try to find them, if he knew where they were the entire time that’s—that’s absolutely unthinkable. And if he wasn’t the one to squirrel them away, having them end up in his house of all places is terrifyingly coincidental.

Dex puts his hands up defensively, his voice rising in pitch and threatening to crack. “Let’s think about this logically. I would’ve known exactly why you made those. Do you really think I would take them? Do you really think that little of me?”

Fitz stands. “Then how else would your siblings get their grubby little hands on them?”

“Why do you expect me to know? Why don’t you go ask them if you’re so concerned with where my priorities lie?”

“Keefe,” comes a yelled voice from the great beyond of the upstairs. So quick to throw their source under the bus, but that also means Fitz’s best friend lied to both Fitz and Dex without so much as a moment of hesitation.

…I’m not even disappointed, Fitz thinks, and that realization is…kind of depressing.

But that also means Dex’s siblings have another source if they’re willing to give that one up so easily.

Just because this one case might have been solved doesn’t mean the possibility is removed from the future. They’re going to find a way. At least finals season is upon us, so the baked goods will be plentiful because the stress is plentiful.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz whispers, staring at the baking soda hills to deliberately avoid eye contact with Dex and his perfect periwinkle eyes.

Dex sits across from him. “I can’t apologize for their actions, but I can apologize for not thinking of them during my whole process. I just figured I would know if they were stashing it in my own house, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I don’t trust Biana enough to use that same logic with her, but I get where it would be coming from if I did.”

Dex smiles softly. “How mad would you be if I were to join you on that particular endeavor?”

Fitz smiles. “So mad.”

Dex takes Fitz’s hand, smearing the baking soda across the table.

And then the oven timer goes off. The lemon squares are done, and all that’s left is for them to cool off and be powdered sugar. Then they’re ready to go for tomorrow’s presentation. It’s not the most prepared he’s ever been, but at this point, it’s good enough. Monosaccharides and disaccharides aren’t that bad to just completely ramble about with no notes. Dex knows too much for his own good anyway. Between that, some unhelpful clip art, and a four in the morning rabbit hole, everything will be fine.

Besides, it’s not like any of the other students will care. They get snacks.

“You, uh, might want to go check that before they get taken,” Dex suggests.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Fitz mumbles, beginning the long journey of trudging up the stairs.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #detz #kotlc detz #fedex #kotlc fedex #fitz vacker #kotlc fitz #dex dizznee #kotlc dex #ship: fedex #series: none

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ezrasageisajellyfish · 2 years ago

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ok ik that I'm probably gonna get hate for this but I'm not like a huge fan of season 2 of heartstopper.

like don't get me wrong I loved the 1st season. it was the reason I got into the whole omniverse. but I kinda have mixed feelings about the second season (and yes ik I'm very late to this) so I'm autistic and I. can't really handle change and yes I do fully understand that everything can't be fully lined to the comics and has to be some changes because it's a fucking tv show. but there were some changes, mainly in the second season that like really bothered me and I'm just trying to see if it was just me or not.

i really kinda hated the extra stuff leading up to Elle and Tao getting together. like the whole "first date" thing literally almost made me wanna die. mainly cause I feel the books portrayed them getting together very well and it just wasn't needed.

on defense of the second season I will say that the Tara and Darcy extra scenes and lk storyline was amazing and very good. like the whole thing with Darcy's mom was incredible. and the after prom thing where they're playing that Taylor swift song was genius. (if u can't tell they're both some of my favorite characters) and I'm not just putting Elle and Tao down cause I don't like them as much. I absolutely adore Elle and her entire personality in the books and Tao in the books and show us just fucking adorable. and it wasn't the actors fault at all they did an amazing job. another defense for it was the acting. the acting for like 5× better than the 1st season in my opinion, especially the nick&Charlie kissing scenes those were 6× more like realistic and shit. another issue i have with it was the casting. like ik u can't get it absolutely correct I fully get that but they were givin a pretty good description of what each character was supposed to look like. and I'm not saying they did that with every character. the casting with Tara and Darcy was absolutely perfect. but with Elle mainly her description is very shown and ik I'm not in a casting department had to be absolutely perfect and shit but... they could have tried harder to find a trans egyptian actress. mainly cause ik that middle eastern representation is kinda hard to find and they only found a mixed girl to play her. no shade to Yasmin, she's fucking gorgeous I just would have liked for them to have that representation.

also I was kinda annoyed with the added Ben parts. BUT the scene where Charlie told Ben that he never gave his consent for Ben to kiss him was pretty cool and I give them a lot of credit for that. I am also a huge fucking Imogen fan and seeing her be the fucking bad bitch she is was amazing. I just didn't like when nick and Ben were paired up together BUT I did like when nick said that he literally fucking assaulted him and it was cool that they said that literally and didn't leave it as an inference. *tw rape (also unpopular opinion on the assault scene if nick hadn't been there I think it's safe to say that Ben woul have raped the little angel charlie) so that was good that he dad that but I felt those scenes just weren't needed. and yes once again I do know that the comics themselves can't make the entire show cause it just wouldn't be long enough BUT almost all the season 2 episodes where like 10-15 minutes longer than any season 1 episodes. so....

also I didn't think that elle going to art college was like needed. like I didn't feel that that extra drama was needed in the show. oh I almost forgot to say this I absolutely hate the prom scene with all of my heart. EXCEPT the very not straight Sahar and Imogen scene when Imogen is kinda staring at her like Sahar is the best thing in the world (wich she is). but I hate the costumes for prom. like Charlie's made me want to scream into a pillow. and Tara's could have been 7× better. but it just wasn't super nessasary in general

also sorry if my spelling is absolute shit I can't spell to save my life

#heartstopper season 2

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saemihaw · 3 months ago

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tw. mention of suicidal thoughts and emotional neglect and stuff

idk. my mom is still nice. Literally accepting I'm bi. Like adding and talking like about a man, or woman. in regards of if I'd be with someone etc u know.

Also didn't have any problem when I became a vegetarian aa long as I did resources about it and would prepare my own meals.

Very supportive, saying it's my life.

Still also showing in interest when I used to make lot of tiktoks and stuff. When I'd cosplay. When I'd be filming and editing at school and stuff.

We talk about tv shows we would watch and stuff.

Like most times she's very nice.

But then also she got mad and drove me to my room and yelling me to go there and ending both of us screaming we hate each other. because I'd go comfort and take my younger sib to a safe environment to calm down when they were clearly having an panic attack and was frozen in place and she'd keep yelling at them still.

So I walk them upstairs and stay there hug them reassure them wait until they're feeling more better before then having a talk with my parents about this.

But no I don't understand how serious this situation is I don't understand why they're so mean and harsh because this is serious and they're just trying their best and I'm being unfair and harsh towards themmm. So you jump from your chair to drive my upstairs and stay mad at me for days for that?

Very cool. Very Very Cool. 👍

I am so unreasonable and don't understand at all whenever I'd go in between or have a talk with them about basic things sometimes. you know how a kid that age doesn't understand and you yelling over it won't in fact make this any better.

You do understand why these kids are acting out right? You do understand you're making it ten times worse by doing these things and here's how you could handle this better and here let me handle this and learn and jdjfufjdu

Sorry I yelled at you and had a long rant after you made my 5 year old sib cry for literally what reason you'd be mean?

Oh I'm just picking on everything you do I'm so unreasonable.

several of kids are crying they want to die one after another. And you ignore this and get mad about it when it's not just one time thing and it's making you feel uncomfortable and bad why can't they think how you feel hearing that :((

but yeah tell me how I don't understand how serious things are when I'm literally having to warn you that this is serious and they'd need help and if they refuse to get any I'm forced to.

But yes. completely reasonable for you to tell me you hate me because I wouldn't let these things just be. Clearly I don't understand the severity of this.

yess I am the unreasonable one.

But still you come ask me for my opinion with everything and what are my thoughts on how there's social workers coming here even though they tried refusing it to the very end and talking about it like this is more of a threat than help.

talking about it as more of a 'punishment' that's going to happen if one can't just stop showing signs of a clear struggling with mental health but coool

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Trying to explain how getting help is what they need. While hearing them talk how strangers are not coming to this house!

ufufufufyhgjchxj

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I think it also affected me hearing them threaten repeatedly how "if you can't get yourself together they're going to take you away" "you'll be taken away if you keep this up"

Also my mother would even say how if it keeps up like this she's literally considering to sent my sib somewhat because she can't handle this.

While they're themselves not being supportive at all and go to response is to use blame, quilt, naming, threatening and stuff

I wonder why they're doing so unwell.... yeah it's a mystery.....

I can't imagine how horrible that felt for my sib. I had panic attacks over those a lot and would be constantly there going in between that and defend my sib and try talk sense into my parents but I wasn't the one directly been told those things and been reacted that way for struggling.

But it still hurts hearing all those things too that also do apply to me because I struggle with those too but I somehow manage to hide them or it's ignored and I manage just enough for it to not become a problem for them.

It's alright if you want to die and struggle as long as it doesn't affect them directly.

I was lucky to manage just enough on my own. Also even though I did not want to move I'm lucky I had to just when I too was seriously struggling with school and in the end I then did not go there at all but it was fine because I lived alone. didn't leave my house for months sometimes.

Imagine feeling all that and simply being unable to do anything and on top of being constantly yelled and blamed over it anf kgjfhdhdjzjdhfh

thank god they have help now

But still.

Fuck I wish I was there. my parents are a lot better now that they've gotten help. but still I worry and I wish I was there supporting more and aaaaaa

I feel so horrible for not being able to be so present now.

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fuji09 · 1 year ago

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I know they all have faults, I voice that all the time that they all mess up. I didn't realize I needed to give examples when I wasn't debating you or claiming you to be wrong, I was agreeing with you and adding on to what I have seen.

Now, I have a hard time articulating my thoughts into words so I'm sorry if what I say doesn't make sense or seems weird. I also don't have episode names memorized or remember what specific thing happens in which specific episode.

I felt Scott was being naive when he was in denial of his life not changing just because he was a werewolf. He actively tried to ignore it and refused to listen when told he couldn't do certain things like play in the lacrosse game (now I do blame Coach for part of that since Scott did try to get out of it at one point) and he insisted on still seeing Allison (and going to that party) when he was warned it wasn't safe for her until he could control his instincts better. He could have hurt her but he insisted he wouldn't do that.

To me that was quite naive, ignoring the problem or insisting he wouldn't do things when he has no idea what his body will do could have hurt a lot of people around him and gain attention of the hunters.

He's 16, scared, and new to all this so I'm not saying he's a bad person because he did what a lot of teens would probably do in his situation. Being in denial put a lot of people at risk, including himself.

Because Scott was (what I saw as) naive, he didn't allow himself to accept the fact that he is a werewolf, his life will never be the same, and he will never be a normal teen with a normal life. That made being a werewolf harder than it had to be for him.

But that was just how I perceived it. I didn't get heavily involved in fandom when I started watching Teen Wolf so I wasn't influenced by fanon. I actively did my best to stay away from the TW fandom until I finished the show because I didn't want to see spoilers.

Scott didn't know the real reason his dad left. Melissa kept it from him, and maybe she wanted his dad to be the one to explain it, even Stiles didn't tell him about that. Obviously you can't tell a small child but he was old enough to know a while before he was actually told what happened.

Maybe I'm seeing a lot of my mom in Melissa, but she really does seem like the type of mom to try to keep her child from experiencing pain as much as possible. It's hard to explain, it's just her personality and the way she interacts with Scott. She has that protective aura.

I didn't want to see him give up on anyone. Like I said, I always see the good in people even when I shouldn't as well. The only ones I perceived as truly unable to be saved was Kate, Gerard, and Monroe. I can't say whether or not Victoria because we didn't see her as much.

I do think Gerard and Monroe should have been stopped a lot sooner. Neither were going to stop hunting and allowing humans to get hurt in the process.

I don't think Scott had to choose a side. I don't think he's bad. I don't hate him. I'm aware that every character does something wrong. I also take into account why they do the things they do, like Allison being taken advantage of by Gerard during her grief with not only her aunt dying but then her mom, like Derek being a victim of sexual and physical assault and having his entire family murdered, like Peter driven mad for years comatose and burned, and like Stiles losing his mother at a young age and terrified of losing his dad and Scott.

From what I can gather, the worst thing Scott experienced before the pilot episode was his asshole dad leaving. I'm not saying that isn't traumatic because it is, but compared to a lot of other characters, it's the least traumatic. Scott hasn't experienced as much pain and grief as some of the others so he seems a little naive in that.

He told Derek that the Argents must have had a reason for killing his entire family, while looking at Peter burned and appearing comatose. To me, thinking that comes from being a bit naive to the horrors of the world. In his mind there must be a good reason because people don't just do that. He still didn't seem convinced when Derek mentioned how there was children and humans in that house too. That way of thinking in my opinion is naive.

It's little things like that that make me feel like he is more naive than other characters. But I could be wrong, it's just how I saw his character, I do feel like he became less naive as he got older and had more experience in this stuff.

Scott’s Flaws

I know, given the depth of my passion for defending him, that people might think that I don’t think Scott has any flaws. Nothing can be farther from the truth. I simply don’t think that flaws disqualify someone from being a good person and a hero. In that spirit, I think I will list exactly what I think Scott’s flaws are.

1) Scott can be overly idealistic. He isn’t always an idealist, but he frequently is, and he frequently takes it too far. I think this is understandable (see flaw #3) but it can lead to problems. Scott, to me, sees the best in people – which is great – but he fails to see the worst in people. This is why he was so blindsided by Theo in 5A and why he was so blindsided by Stiles in 3B and 5A. It also feeds into his martyr complex which looks good on the surface but is actually not very good at all.

2) Scott can be too stubborn. While his refusal to be controlled is laudable, he can take it too far. He wants to be normal, and he can’t, but he’ll keep acting like it even if there are repercussions. For example, his stubborn refusal to stop trying to ‘protect’ Allison, even after she told him not to. In my opinion, as ‘noble’ as it was, his not telling Allison about her mother was the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. It also manifests in him being unprepared for things. While he is undoubtedly a good person, he could have been better if he adapted to being a werewolf quicker. He also failed to notice the change in his relationship to Stiles because he wants everything to be as it was, when it can’t.

3) Scott refuses to judge people. This isn’t a flaw because he is ignorant, but it is an abandonment of responsibility. In Lies of Omission, he wanted to be anywhere else than out in the rain with Stiles. If he had been more forceful, more direct, rather than wanting to not have to deal with it, the conflict wouldn’t have happened.

It seems that I am a huge defender of Scott (and I am) because I feel that most of the accusations thrown his way are calumny. The fandom bends over backwards to excuse Stiles’ and Derek’s and Theo’s actions (going so far as to blame them on Scott) but gives not the slightest concern about Scott. For example – people defend Stiles’ behavior in Lies of Omission by appeals to his history, his emotional state, and his misperception of events and then refuse to give Scott the same benefit of the doubt.

It seems to me that you should be able to appreciate a character’s flaws without saying that the character is a bad person. When I point out Derek’s brutality in Season 1 and 2, people bristle, even though I acknowledge fully (and often) his fantastic growth. When I point out Stiles’ issues with boundaries, that doesn’t mean I’m saying he’s a terrible human being. When this fandom deals with Scott’s flaws, they aren’t enjoying a rounded character, they are looking for ways to delegitimize him, because they don’t like the basic foundation of the show.

I will always defend him from that.

#im probably forgetting other stuff on why i think this #but im out of energy

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screeching-painter-witch · 4 years ago

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i took the "x coded y girl" quiz and i got exposed:

"Sam-Coded Cas Girl

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science! Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)"

ouch/lh,,, no really this is literally true wow

(also, i feel like the fact that i relate to nico di angelo and thought i was not tr*umat*z*d enough to be able to actually say i found him relatable further confirms this)

#tw trauma mention #?#i'm adding a tw because better safe than sorry #spn #supernatural #uquiz #relatable content #x coded y girl

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hisredhysteria · 3 years ago

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Locked In

Note: Just for fun—! I've been wanting to do something like this for Cutthroat because of the beginning manga panels, but thank you to my friend for involving Hacker in this—

TW: mention of murder and the reader in Hacker's scenario may come off a little yandereish in a sense

Summary: Scenarios to do with being locked up or in-? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT—

Cutthroat

Once detained, the other correctional guards didn't feel they had to so much as roll when coming to their conclusion. They could have flipped a coin, asked you to pick a number from 1 through 10—hell, why not have added your name to a roulette wheel for such a heinous decision? Every single one of them chose to back up the other though, all as they anxiously informed you that it would be your turn to pick up their cowardly slack. The criminal going under surveillance was dangerous, but in what world is a criminal entirely not? If watching the murderer really was the death sentence everyone made it out to be, then you were determined to survive just to prove them wrong.

You made your way through to the lowest level of a dismal prison, an entanglement of keys finally jingling as they clicked into alignment with the room door of his temporary holding cage. Relieving the previously stationed guard of their daunting duty, it was as if he had been on edge for all of the five minutes he'd been standing there. Concerned about the longevity felt from simply being in the same room as a death row patient, he did what anyone would have done by wasting no time rushing out of there. The criminal was your friend for the night, silently elated as he could feel your new presence—hear your differing footsteps. The only thing missing now was a face to match the sound of your pretty voice.

"I've heard a lot about you.."

The murderer didn't stir, but did you expect him to under the confines?

"Cutthroat, was it?"

Growing beneath the mask across his face was a smile at your question; surely this wasn't going to lack any of his own amusement.

"Hm...~? Is someone there..?" He cooed, starting with a hum that made you wonder about the relevance of his serious tone after.

Was he joking or was he trying to be serious?

"Is someone ever not..?" You sighed, clinking the cage cell back shut without you inside. Better safe than sorry, you stood from a bit of a distance to be sure.

"Never usually this close...~" He continued.

"This close? ... I'm not standing any closer than the last guy who was here." Interested to see you encourage a conversation, again something echoed beyond his covered face.

"Well, the other one didn't greet me... He was no fun because he didn't answer any questions either..." His reminder that you really weren't supposed to be entertaining him, you swallowed an antsy feeling in the pit of your throat.

"Whatever it was that you said, it must have scared him. He left in a hurry..." You answered quickly so it felt less against your own rules, taking mental note that from there on out it was best not to respond to him.

"I only asked to see his blood...it's pretty on everyone, isn't it...? I bet yours is pretty too..."

Shooting your eyes to examine the constraints that bound him, Cutthroat was eerily still for someone in his position—with the staggering strength he had too. Silence filled the air once more and usually the killer would have grown bored by now. You had chance of answering anything more by doing so previously, and because that was so, Cutthroat wasn't ready to leave you alone just yet.

"I hope you're the one to take me to the execution room ~" He subsequently tried.

Admitting fondness so soon for something as easy as a blunt greeting and reciprocation in conversation, his attempts unsettled you the longer he kept talking. In fact, it wouldn't have been such a fever dream if he wasn't also detained for the murder of nearly one thousand people. Shifting in the spot you stood however, a step forward from the cell didn't seem like such a bad idea as you took it.

Discouraged by the tap of your shoe distancing yourself from him, he'd still test you a final time.

"You'll be there to watch my blood spill with everyone else though, won't you? ...Of course you will, who would miss the chance to see someone die..? Hm~ It would be nice to watch someone else die one last time though..."

His ending comment sat with you. It killed not to provide an answer, so you surveyed your surroundings to find no one but the security camera's watching.

"....Are you asking to kill me..?" You fell into round two of his deadly game.

"Would you let me..!?"

You jumped for how foreign it sounded—for how muffled and excited the gasp was. It had to be a joke or another intrusive thought, you really did not have a death wish for tonight. All you needed to do was pass time, but...what was the harm in a little fun? A prideful tease at best—you propositioned Cutthroat.

"Do I get something in return....?"

"Huh...? Is dying not fun enough?"

How insane he must have been to think that it was, but more so to think you'd forfeit your life either way.

"Is that why you want to die?" You asked, turning around to glance through the gaps of the bars curiously. "Is dying fun to you..?"

His small laugh was rewarded for your kindness towards him.

"Of course~! I have yet to find out if dying is as good as killing... but I'll know soon enough.. Maybe you will too ♡ ~"

Hacker

Lying to his own advantage wasn't a deed Hacker took part in often, but when it came to being on the receivers end, something about it was just thrilling enough. From the tasteful and underhanded way you trapped him in this room, who was he to admit any disliking towards it? Arguing with you to open the door would have never worked, and just by glaring down at the cruel silver knob, Hacker knew it was tightly locked.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you..?" He asked, your greater plan slowly sinking through like he was as thin as wet paper. A personal hell awaited him—all from the moment he told you he was going to be leaving.

"I suppose I should have seen this one coming sooner or later...it's just that I never expected it to be you holding me back..." Hacker added, and where you thought one would have grown weary or more nearly now angered, the way he spoke instead sounded intrigued with every last drop. Your breaths deepened however, stuttering to hold back a cry. Hearing what would be your back slide down against the door, he eventually caught on that maybe you hadn't wanted to do this at all in the first place.

"If it made you this upset...you could have told me."

You let the tears threatening to spill finally touch skin. If the solution was all that simple, did he really think you wouldn't have tried? Telling him your true feelings may have been nice, but it would only make it that much easier for Hacker to slip between the lines. As long as he didn't expect your heart to get in the way of anything, he couldn't plot against what he was enduring now.

"...It's not that I didn't think of bringing you with. Leaving together wouldn't be so bad. I need something new though, something with a faster pace—and I don't expect you to be able to keep up. This is just the better option for both of us."

Your body continued to become further distraught as he spoke, and now perhaps you were the one that was angry.

Had he always thought you were slowing him down..?

"Then..." You whispered, rolling your head back so it was flat against the door. Hanging on the edge by your words, Hacker must have had no idea how bad this actually hurt. "I can't let you leave."

His eyes lit up. It was controlling, but the fact that you thought you were the one with the upper hand made him feel like your competitor.

"If I wanted to, I could turn this door to ash using my drones... It'll hurt more later if you continue to sit in that spot." He threatened, an empty one at its best. Was it one he could even fulfill?

"Try it..." You inhaled, stuffy from the rainy vision. "Burn me to cinders if you have to..." Testing him, you knew Hacker wasn't going to do it. There was little to no point in the test because of that, but it was to spark his interest instead.

Working as planned, his fingers strained themselves on the singular bubbled keypads. His drones aimed at the wall facing the outside street, Hacker tried them for himself. With no patience or hesitation, he pressed a key sure enough to elicit a reaction from both drones—for them to crumble the waiting wall beneath their wrath. When nothing happened though, his wide eyes suggested horror.

"What..? How..." Confused by the lack of response, maybe technology was always a little faulty. Slamming his finger on the key once again, your quiet laugh in success wasn't what he'd been ordering. Enough to have slowly broken him the longer things lasted, suddenly this wasn't going to be as fun as he initially planned.

"You told me you wanted something new. You've never been locked in a room for longer than a year, have you...?"

#akudama drive x reader #akudama drive scenarios #I'm sorry for being less active lately #I haven't been coming onto Tumblr as much for....a few reasons...#mainly because a few things happened on here that are slightly discouraging...#and just weird...#I love writing but I've been discouraged from continuing on here almost because of more than just one experience —#I was also busy writing my other essay but...I noticed even when I did have free time I'd avoid clicking on Tumblr #I've also gotta start picking one draft and working on it till its done I'm gonna try I promise

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fastenwick · 3 years ago

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Aik vs. Iruz - Doomed Timeline (Part Three)

(Featuring @aik-membrane and Gaz from @game-slavers, and mentions of @invader-d1b, @tallest-blue-nerd, and @survivor-zim 's bad version.)

Tw/ blood, violence, death.

"Did you catch them??" Iruz spat.

"No sir, the entire sector was suddenly washed with flames out of nowhere. They must have rigged several explosives. Several of our soldiers were caught up in it, we can't even locate their bodies."

"And the humans?" Iruz said.

"They were in the center of it when it happened. There's no way they could have survived. They're both dead, sir."

—

Back in the junk bay, the ship was no longer cloaked. Gaz was sitting inside, her right arm bandaged up tight. She was awake, just watching Aik.

Aik was working silently on D1b's laptop. He had a bit of dried blood and a splint on his nose.

It had been almost a week since Aik rescued Gaz from Iruz. Almost two months since D1b stopped communicating.

"How's your nose?" Gaz asked, not moving.

"It'll heal, it's fine," Aik responded simply. "How do you feel?"

Gaz huffed. "Like shit."

"The offer to take you home is still on the table," Aik said.

Gaz shook her head. "No."

Aik shrugged and went back to the laptop.

Gaz watched for a moment. "Do you really believe he's still alive?"

"I do. D1b is smart, and Iruz had many reasons to lie," Aik replied.

"Did you find anything?" Gaz asked.

"Not yet."

Gaz huffed.

"Well, except that the Massive is headed for Earth," Aik corrected.

"That it's what!"

"Yes…" Aik continued. "Iruz has the course set for Earth. I can't triangulate our position or speed, so I have no idea how much time we have before the Massive arrives."

"What so we do! He could blow up the whole planet!" Despite panicking, Gaz was very still because of her arm.

"I'll have to find a way to stop him," Aik said simply.

"We have to find a way to stop him."

"Gaz, you can barely move your arm. You need to let those burns heal," Aik pointed out.

"But… You're right…" Gaz muttered.

"If you had listened in the first place, you wouldn't even be burned," Aik added. "That was uncalled for, I take it back."

"No you're right… I should've listened…" Gaz said with a small sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Gaz."

"No its not, we're dealing with an alien invasion! D1b would know what to do… but he's dead…" Gaz whimpered, lowering her head.

"No, he's not." Aik stopped typing on the computer and turned to Gaz.

Gaz glanced up at Aik. "You're just borrowing hope…"

"It's better than borrowing trouble." Aik turned back to the laptop. "At least we know he isn't on the ship."

Gaz nodded stiffly.

"As a matter of fact, we're the only two people on the ship that aren't crazy planet killers currently…" Aik mused.

"What are you getting at…" Gaz muttered.

Aik shrugged. "We have to stop Iruz from blowing up the planet, right? It would be kind of hard to blow up the planet when the ship is blown up."

"Wha… you used all the explosives already?" Gaz said.

"They aren't powerful enough anyway. Even overheating the engine room would only take out a portion of the Massive. Leaving Iruz alive and able to rrebuild. But according to this, there is a self destruct sequence."

"Self destruct?" Gaz repeated.

Aik nodded. "It's still intact too. I can rig up almost everything remotely then it's just getting to the control room to activate the detonation. We'd have to leave the ship and take an escape pod to Earth."

"When do we do this?" Gaz asked.

"As soon as possible. I don't have full access to all the Massive systems yet, I can't figure out how much time we have til we get to Earth. It could be days still, it could be hours." Aik continued to work on the computer.

"... hours?" Gaz sounded scared.

Aik stopped working to look at Gaz. "Listen, if you don't trust me this time, you could die. I need you to follow my instructions and believe I won't let anything happen to you. Okay?"

Gaz nodded stiffly.

"Good. Here's what we're going to do."

—

After sneaking Gaz into an escape pod and getting her set up safely there, Aik made his way to the control room.

He had snuck in once before, he was completely confident that he could do it again. Gaz had wanted to help, but with her burned arm, it was better for Aik to go it alone.

Who would have guessed he'd end up having to save the planet…

Aik was perched above the control room. The ceiling was high enough, none of the Irkens sensed him and he could see all of them working. There were only two Invaders there currently, there were mostly navigation drones and repair unites. And of course Iruz.

Aik knew he'd have to work fast, Irken antennas were very sensitive and even in the dark, they'd be able to tell he was there. He cut the power again using some tools with his arm.

The control room went dark. Immediately the Irkens began to panic.

"Not again! Find the source and terminate it!" Iruz's angry voice barked at the scattered and confused Irkens.

Using the grappling hook built into his arm, Aik dropped down to the proper control panel. His hand hovered over the keyboard, waiting for the power to come back on. He retracted the grappling hook and unsheathed his knife from his robotic arm. He was prepared.

"I know you're here!" Iruz's voice was somehow clear over loud panicked chatter of other Irkens. "The human! The girl isn't here, find her!"

The power came back on.

Aik pressed the button to activate self destruct timer. Then he promptly stabbed the closest Irken in the chest. Time to fight.

Six or seven Irkens immediately leapt at Aik, PAK legs extended. The two Invaders were at the head.

Aik shot a laser from his thumb at the two Invaders, killing them instantly. The worst threats out of the way now. He blocked attacking PAK legs with his robotic arm, grabbing them and squeezing with all his strength, causing the PAK legs to crack. He dodged a few lasers aimed at him.

"How is the human still alive, you should've already incinerated him!!" Iruz screamed. He was about to leap into the fight when the door opened again and two Irkens dragged Gaz in.

"Hold!" Iruz snapped, noticing Gaz.

All the Irkens stepped away from Aik. He spotted Gaz. "Shit."

"Before you say anything, I came because I was trying to tell you they already blew it up!" Gaz's tone of voice made it clear she was in a lot of distress, she had even possibly been crying. "They killed everyone, Earth is…"

"Earth? Oh that's gone. You just missed the fireworks, we did it almost an hour ago," Iruz laughed. "Ah, such a shame. Kill the girl."

An Irken aimed a weapon at Gaz.

Aik aimed his thumb at Iruz. "Pull that trigger and his brains get splattered from here to kingdom come."

Iruz rolled his eyes, then smirked. "Hold. Kill him first."

All the Irkens aimed their weapons at Aik.

Aik fired the laser at Iruz. It struck Iruz's chest and shoulder, blowing a hole into him. Iruz shrieked with rage and the Irkens leapt to attack again, even letting Gaz go.

"Gaz, shut off the timer!" Aik leapt back into the fight, gesturing to the control panel where the countdown had appeared.

Gaz bolted to a control panel and started trying to shut it down. "It's all Irken!!"

"Go to the left, that one is English now!" Aik broke the neck of one Irken, and stabbed another. A PAK leg nicked his shoulder, but he grabbed it with the robot arm and shattered it.

Iruz finally recovered enough to bark orders again. "Get them!!!!" He was soaked in blood already.

There were still so many Irkens to fight, and they were all coming at Aik. He got hit with a laser in the leg, he managed to deflect most of the blow so that he could still fight. He blocked a PAK leg with his robotic arm again. It stabbed into the metal this time. Aik grabbed at an Irken's throat and his robotic arm began to smoke and sizzle.

"I shut down the timer!" Gaz said with relief. She picked up a gun that had fallen and started shooting at the other Irkens.

One by one, the Irkens were failing. But Iruz must have called back up, the door was being opened.

Gaz noticed however and shot the controls for the door, locking everyone out.

Iruz leapt at Aik, PAK legs bared and screaming with rage. Aik caught two of the PAK legs, one with each hand, and landed a solid kick into Iruz's gut, knocking him back. Besides Iruz, there were two Irkens left alive. Aik stabbed one in the PAK, killing it. Iruz leapt on him again as the second Irken went after Gaz.

Gaz shot the gun at the Irken, but she was out of power. She discarded the gun and grabbed a decapitated PAK leg to defend herself.

Iruz wrestled with Aik, managing to tackle him to the ground. "Give it up, measly human! You'll never win against all of Irk! It's only a matter of time before backup arrives!"

Aik grabbed Iruz's face with his robotic arm and squeezed. His robotic arm was overheating, it immediately began to cook Iruz's face on contact. And the strength left in the fingers tore holes into Iruz's skull. He screamed, unable to pull away.

"That's for D1b!" Aik's robotic arm started to twitch, sparks flew from it. He kicked Iruz off of him and ripped his arm free from Iruz's face.

The last Irken was about to stab Gaz. Gaz yelped in fear.

Aik used the last of the energy from his robotic arm to shoot the last Irken in the head with a laser. It fell to the ground, unable to harm Gaz. Gaz was breathing heavily, staring at Aik.

Aik glanced at Iruz. The bastard was still alive, just writhing in pain.

Aik disconnected Iruz's PAK and stabbed it with another decapitated PAK leg. He then fell to the ground as physical turmoil of the fight caught up to him. His robotic arm had lost all power, it was dented, crushed, smoking, stabbed, and covered in Irken blood. As far as physical injuries, none of them were life threatening to him. Some scratches, burns, and a few fairly minor stab wounds to his leg and shoulder.

Gaz approached Aik carefully and sat near him. She had a few scratches too, but aside from her already burned arm, she seemed unharmed. Aik gave her a weak smile.

"Are you okay?" Gaz asked hesitantly.

"I've had worse, I'll be alright…" Aik sighed. He sat up slowly. "Are you hurt?"

Gaz shook her head. "I'm okay…"

There was a thud from the door. There were hundreds of Irkens trying to get inside.

Aik tried to stand, but he didn't have any strength left. "Earth is gone?"

Gaz nodded slowly. "I found out on the computer after you left… We were too late…" She scooted closer to Aik. "Are… are we going to die too?"

Another thud came from the door.

"Not if I have anything to say about it…" Aik looked to Iruz.

Iruz was still now. The ten minutes were up. His face was mangled beyond recognition. And there was a comm device that fell from his uniform.

Aik moved enough to grab the device and spoke into it, disguising his voice. "Nix on the back up, everything is fine, the power is back on. There was a weapon malfunction as well, but it's been settled. Repeat, return to your posts."

The noises from the door stopped.

Gaz breathed a sigh of relief, hugging Aik without thinking about it.

"Huh?" Aik was kind of frozen by the gesture, but hesitantly hugged Gaz back with his good arm. "You're… not really one for hugging."

"I don't care…" Gaz muttered, trying to hold back tears.

"That order won't hold them forever, I'll send them to the engine room to die or something," Aik patted Gaz's head hesitantly. "You and I are at least safe."

Gaz nodded with a sniff. "Then… it'll just be us on the Massive?"

Aik sighed. "Yes. We can try to establish communications with other species or someone out there, but we can't go back to Earth. Or Irk for that matter. Iruz already killed everyone loyal to Miyuki…"

Gaz nodded again. She was crying into Aik's bloodied coat now. Aik didn't mind, he just let her hug him.

"You did good, kid." Aik patted her head again. "You did good…"

—

The engine room plan worked, leaving Aik and Gaz entirely alone on the Massive. At least they had access to the medbay healing androids to recover from their injuries, but since it was only them on the ship, they couldn't stay here for more than 6 months before it fell into disrepair. And plus, they still didn't know what happened to D1b.

About a week later, Gaz was resting in the medbay. Aik sat a short distance from her, working on D1b’s laptop. He had access to everything on the ship now, and he was searching all the records to find out what happened to D1b.

"It's hopeless, Aik, give it up…" Gaz muttered, hugging her arms around herself.

"I have to know, Gaz," Aik sighed. His eyes lit up. He found something.

Gaz rolled her eyes. "You've been looking this entire time, it's hopeless."

"He's alive."

"Aik, he's not…"

"Yes he is, Gaz." Aik turned the computer screen so Gaz could see it. Footage of what seemed to be D1b sneaking around a ship dock was displayed. He climbed into a nearby Voot and escaped.

"Wait… that… that's him, he's alive!" Gaz squealed excitedly.

Aik nodded with a big grin. "He's alive. And we have six months to find him before we need a new mode of transportation. Other than that, we can take our time."

"This… yeah, he's alive!"

Aik chuckled softly. "He's alive."

#invader zim fanfiction #invader zim #invader zim dib #irken empire #iz #fan fiction #aik membrane #game slavers #survivor zim #invader d1b #tallest blue nerd #tls doomed timeline #d1im

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maybe-your-left · 4 years ago

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I was wondering if you could do a request thing for Dr.Ren where the reader tells him that she’s pregnant with odin? If not, understandable! Love your work!❤️

god yes… i want that so bad.

TW/CW: yeah it's Dr. Ren you know what you asked for you little slut... what better way to spend your Sunday than by reading smut with our favorite physician? NSFW, Pregnancy smut (unknown by one party), pregnancy reveal Dr. Ren's style, he's not great with feelings we all know this, puking, morning sickness, sex scene at first reader is not into it because she's a little preoccupied, AGE GAP REMEMBER, DR. REN IS 14 YEARS OLDER (I made character my age and Ren AD real age which is the same for all Dr. Ren oneshots) that means that yes, we are still in college (older), angst but into fluff.

remember, PSA don't fuck your doctor I'm like 99% sure it's illegal but don't quote me on it, baby.

also have safe sex okay-with whoever or whatever your partner of choice is.

Here is the link to my Dr. Ren M.D. Masterlist and his multi-chaptered fic that I haven't updated bc I'm terrible! :) Enjoy!

this is pretty linear with the Dr. Ren storyline I have on my blog, but with some smaller changes to make it a little more what I want rn which is angst. Also-i've never been pregnant or anything like that so I'm sorry if my pregnancy sex isn't canon to what your experiences are/were. i just know if I were pregnant with a mans child who was significantly older than me, I'd freak out like reader here.

"Leg up."

You whined, trying to move your right leg up the way Ren desired. Still lodged balls deep inside you, uncomfortably rigid given the pounding you were just taking when he suddenly decided to freeze and play Twister with your limbs.

Ren smacked the side of your thigh, "Come on-up, you're being oddly stiff tonight."

"Because I'm not a fucking blow-up doll," you swore under your breath. Finally, able to bend your leg how he wanted, Ren's hands found your hips once more. Gripping a little too tight, was it always like this?

The pressure of his cock filling you over and over again used to feel good, but given your current state of address. It felt like he was trying to pop a bubble, with the very tip of his penis.

Ren grunted behind you, changing angles once more before admitting defeat. You weren't really in the mood anyway, you'd spent the entire day in the bathroom trying to fight off your motion sickness.

Barely able to scramble yourself together to look somewhat presentable when Ren burst through the door to your shared bedroom. Peppering your sweaty face with kisses, mumbling into your hair how long his day was, how boring his patients were, how he couldn't get the image of you curled up in the comforters out of his head all day.

He had to have you.

So, like his good girl, you rolled on your tummy. Careful to avoid the sore spot beginning to grow-much to your dismay. Ren thought you were extra sensitive, playfully asking if you were fucking yourself while he was away.

Your cunt was so tight, he couldn't believe it!

Ren rolled onto his back, hands still clasped to your waist. You couldn't ask him to move them, even though the tips of his fingers were digging into the exact spot of pillowing skin you wanted him to avoid. You winced a little when he planted his feet into the mattress, lifting you effortlessly in the air.

Your hands scrambled to find purchase on his knees. Digging in and holding onto dear life as he pounded into you. Letting out high-pitched yelps in pain and pleasure as he fucked you, you stared straight forward.

Locking eyes with your blurry reflection in the TV screen, black and mounted on the far wall above the dresser. You could make out Ren's face behind you. Pinched in frustration, you had yet to cum on his cock, even though he had commanded you to do it earlier and you tried your best to fake it.

You rocked your hips backward, trying to meet his demanding thrusts. Pulling a deep moan from his chest at your enthusiasm, "So good, such a good girl."

His head fell back into the pillows, probably admiring the back of your head. A ratty bun concealing your hair from your sweating nape that he lavished earlier, you screwed your eyes shut.

Conjuring images of anything but the problem you were faced with.

When reality would come crashing down on you when Ren found out you were pregnant. Obviously, it was his, but you weren't ready. There were already so many other things happening in your life and you were still young! What if he didn't want a baby? Should you just keep it to yourself?

Maybe you would contact one of your friends, game out a list of pros and cons before involving the sweating beast behind you.

He already had a kid, past that time of his life where he probably wanted more children to take care of. You were practically a child compared to him, with your mood-swings and episodes and demands for food and other things he provided you without question.

What if he said you weren't mature enough for him?

You audibly scoffed, halting Ren's assault that you had apparently blacked out for the duration of.

"What the hell was that?"

He pitched your forward, chest to the remainder of the bedding while your hips were still locked. Bent at an uncomfortable angle that made you want to puke all over again. Ren's hands smacked your sides as he sat up, leaning to your right so you would see him.

"You're being awfully quiet," he studied you, despite the sweat on his brown and black hair in every direction. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, you wouldn't be able to tell he had spent the better half of an hour trying to fuck your brains out. "It's not like you to be this way, is something wrong?"

You shook your head, pushing yourself up with a silent hiss in pain. Back hitting the hard plains of his chest, knocking the head of his cock to collide with your cervix. The hiss turning into a scream before you launched off his lap into the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut before greeting the porcelain throne once more, vomiting your guts out.

-------

Ren had avoided you like the plague for the rest of the evening, only knocking on the bathroom door once and asking if you needed assistance.

To which you adamantly denied that sent you into another round of tears and puking. It got to the point where all you could do was crawl to the closet and curl up on the floor before falling asleep.

Dreaming of better days, trying to ignore the swimming headache that was threatening to wake up at every toss and turn on the scratchy flooring.

You woke to the feeling of a finger jamming into the hollow of your cheek. Followed by low humming noises that made you feel sick, “Come on, let’s get up.”

“No,” you croaked, attempting to roll away from the probing finger. Only to knock into the back wall of the closet. Whimpering pathetically while you heard footsteps coming and going before a pair of shoes creased behind you.

Opening one eye revealed Rens dimly lit face, only illuminated by the bathroom lights in the distance. He was studying you, mouth pulled in a frown and elbows on his bent knees.

“It’s almost 9, love,” his voice softer than normal, “I made us an appointment with one of my colleagues. But you can’t go covered in sweat and tears.”

“Why,” you took a wet breath, “Why do we have an appointment?”

“Because you’re acting like a child that’s sick, and as a medical professional I can’t let you lay in our closet all day before you choke on your own spit up.”

You sighed, letting out another round of whimpers when Rens hand came to rub your back. Soft circles at the base of your neck, all the way around to the back of your right ear. Rubbing hard with his middle and pointer fingers, releasing a purr of satisfaction.

“Let not be late.”

———

You stayed quiet throughout the drive, denying Rens offer for coffee. Your stomach was in knots, you weren’t sure where he was taking you but the clock was ticking down before you’d have to confess your pregnancy.

Rens hand stayed in your lap the whole time, until he parked. Confused, you were at the hospital, in his specialized parking space. He rounded the car and took your hand once more, letting you wince from standing up and blinded by the sunlight.

Tugging you along, other practitioners waved and said good morning to him but he was laser focused on wherever you were headed. Keeping you close to his side until the two of you stepped into an office.

The lobby was half empty, a few couples scattered around looking at pamphlets or their phones. Ren ordered you to sit and stay, shoving a water bottle in your hands before he went to the receptionist.

You smacked your lips a few times, taking small sips as you looked around the office. A few of those weird posters about ‘hanging in there’ and ‘planning ahead is the best medicine’.

Ren came back over, taking a seat in an uncomfortably small chair. He had to angle his hips a little to not get stuck, tossing a leaflet in your lap before scribbling away at the check in papers.

You cleared your throat, “Isn’t the appointment for me? Shouldn’t I be filling that out?”

“Well,” he shot you a look, “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve seen your medical records so I do know the answers to these questions. And second, no. This is for both of us.”

“How can it-“

“What are you, like a month-maybe 2 months along?” Ren mumbled to himself, “Your tummy has gotten a little bigger but that could be from other circumstances,” his hand shot out, immediately cupping your lower stomach.

Pressing his fingers a few times while you stared dumbfounded, “What the fuck?”

“Plus, your morning sickness started about a week ago so… Im assuming two months is correct.”

“Kylo,” you started, only for the far door to swing open and a nurse to come out.

“Ren family? We are ready for you.”

———

You followed along after Rens shadow, tunnel vision closing in as the nurse led the two of you along. This is a joke right? There’s no way-you knew he was a smart man but there’s no way the same man who fucked up with making a grilled cheese one time knew you were pregnant.

You’d been very sneaky about it.

He ushered you into the room, typical doctor style, completely disregarding the nurse trying to do her job. Answering all the questions while you stayed mute on the crinkly paper coating the table.

Rens hand was in your lap, trying to trap your nervous fingers as they played with the fabric of your leggings.

“Miss?” the nurse turned to you.

You blinked slowly, “Yes-sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“She’s been struggling the past week with bouts of sickness,” Ren quickly blurted, earning a glare from both you and the nurse. He cleared his throat, “Love, she asked if you knew how far along you were?”

“Uh,” you smacked your lips, truthfully. You’d taken a test a few days ago. Letting it stew while you wrestled with the obvious symptoms your body was giving off. Just waiting it out to see if it was a false positive.

“That’s alright-we can get you all dressed down and see how far along you are if you’re comfortable with that.”

You nodded, watching as she left after trying to instruct you on the gowns before Ren waved her off.

She was out of her league, Ren was probably two steps away from doing the exam himself. He stood swiftly, wedging his hips between your knees and cupping your face in his hands.

“Are you alright?”

You blinked, staring ahead at his chest.

He huffed, moving his thumb to rub against your bottom lip a few times before he spoke. “It’s going to be okay, whatever you want to do I’m okay with. I just can’t have you being sick all day without talking to me.”

“How long have you known?”

Ren chuckled a little, “Love, you left pregnancy test sticks in the garage garbage can. I saw them the other evening when I was… not smoking.”

“Why are you smoking out there again?”

“I don’t want to give our baby secondhand smoke!”

You glared, “What do you want to do?”

“Well,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, “First, I’d like to help you get undressed so I can kiss your belly a few times. Then, once we leave we can look at new houses that have enough rooms for our baby and Belle. And finally,” Ren pulled your face up so you were eye to eye. A small smile gracing his ever full lips before he whispered against yours,

“I’m going to take you home, and fuck you nice and soft until you’re even more full of my cum.”

———

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @fathersonandhouseofgucci @reyloaddict55 @emeritusemeritus us @livi-s @eagerforhoney @xxgarden

#adam driver #adamdriver #kylo ren #modern kylo ren #modern au #established relationship #doctor ren #doctor kylo ren #medical kink #tw: pregnancy symptoms #my writing #tw: vomiting

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parchmentedpetrichor · 4 years ago

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➳the girl in the lilac dress ♠ ♡

in which y/n meets fred's ex-girlfriend, days after fred confessed his love for her. there's still some confusion on the status of their relationship. angst -> fluff. narrated by you, y/n l/n.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±5.4k

tw: angst (not too bad though), mean words, blood, mentions of auror missions, kidnapping, needles, st mungo's

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. hermione, lee and alicia

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

the girl in the lilac dress

i was in a good mood. on the way to work to receive my mission, i was humming a song that had just come out. it was catchy and worth the wait.

out of the corner of my eye, a lilac colour appeared suddenly. strange, i thought. it approached me, in the form of a beautiful woman. she had the lightest grey eyes and the smoothest milky-white skin, and the shiniest locks of dark brown hair. she walked in a flowy lilac gown, her slim model-like body walking in a model-like fashion.

i was pretty sure she wasn't headed towards me, but when her luxurious voice said "good morning" in the calmest tone possible to me, i looked at her confusedly.

"hi!" i replied brightly, smiling.

she smiled sinisterly, "my name is pretoria aphrodite, i'm fred's ex-girlfriend."

he hadn't ever mentioned an ex, but i knew he had dated quite a few people. she made me seem like a glass of water next to a glass of red wine, naive and ugly. i was those two things anyway.

"oh! i'm y/n l/n! nice to meet you, you do seem like a daughter of aphrodite," i said politely.

"darling, all women are daughters of aphrodite. i understand fred's interested in you?"

she observed me and i laughed.

"i don't think that's quite the word. he's my best friend."

"friends with benefits?"

"oh gosh no! i don't really know where we stand, honestly."

"bitter about it?"

i thought for a second, "nah, i couldn't be. love's a hard thing."

"it is, indeed, and you work for the ministry?"

i nodded, "head of the auror office. what about you?"

"i model for witch weekly."

i gasped, "you're the p. aphrodite? i should've known!"

"big fan?" she looked amusedly at me.

"my friends are, so naturally i am."

"you don't seem the type fred usually goes for."

"i wouldn't say he's even going for me," i said cautiously.

"you are much too cutesie for his type."

i glanced up at her. she was smiling kindly.

"pfft, but better cutesie than nothing, amirite?" i asked friendlily, "well it's been nice to talk with you, but i gotta hurry!"

"no worries, i'll come with you, i have some business at the ministry too. have you seen his past exes?"

"uhh, not really?"

"well they're all models for one magazine or another."

"oh, okay. and that's important because...?" i asked her carefully.

"i just thought you should know."

i laughed, "i'm not model material, am i? i don't mind at all."

she looks taken aback. "i would say, with longer hair," she plucked a hair out of my poor mess of locks, "and a shorter upper body, with perhaps lip fillers, you'd look model-like."

her tone was analysing and not at all attacking.

"only three things??" i asked, shocked.

"you are rather... pretty already," she mused, "not model-like, but cute."

we had reached the ministry.

"thanks, see you later!" she waved and disappeared.

all that was left was a buzzing fly which soon flew away.

i immediately dialled in my auror code in the red telephone box and was sent into hermione granger's office.

"'mione! how good to see you!" i hugged her.

"hello y/n!"

in the ministry and the auror department, the head of the auror office was probably more important than the minister for magic. i didn't know why. she had brought me a cup of hot chocolate.

"thanks, 'mione, you didn't need to. what's the mission today?"

"two babies are being held hostage in a coded location by a person who calls themselves the light lord. dark lord, light lord, y'know?" she handed me a coded piece of parchment.

i thoughtfully pondered, "the light lord. who do you need?"

"i was hoping you go on this mission, then you could give me some news on this light lord person."

"that's doable. we'll need to bring in hepole and a ministry official to negotiate passports and such. and a strong auror team."

"right on it. i'll get wally becker and charlotte-ann becker. they're a force to be reckoned with on the borders."

"how much experience?"

"they're twins, been doing this for about fifty years now."

"perfect. and hepole?"

"on the way."

"thanks, minister," i winked at her, getting out my telephone and dialling the disguise unit.

"hello, poplinn speaking."

"pop, we need a few disguises. light lord."

"miss l/n! o-of course!"

"and pop?"

"y-yeah?"

"call me y/n."

i hung up, dialling harry's office.

"harry, call draco and be in my office in ten minutes. i don't care what business he's doing with scorpius, we've got babysitters here. light lord, perhaps a second of voldemort."

"of course."

i picked up the ringing phone that was in the corner of hermione's office.

"y/n, me and scorpy are having a zoo day, we're at the muggle zoo you suggested."

"sorry dray, but it's important."

"there's no one else?"

"there are others, but we need your expertise."

there was a pause, "i won't need to show my dark mark?"

"it's fading anyway. no."

"i'll be paid?"

"in hundreds."

"how old are the children?"

"2 and 4," hermione said.

the silence told me he was sold.

"i'll be there."

i picked up the big microphone and said, "auror unit 156 to the brief room. no need to bring anything. see you there!"

"good luck," hermione grimly said, "be safe, head."

"mhm and cup o' coffee tomorrow? if i survive, that is," i grinned.

"'course."

i smiled, "c'ya!"

she was shaking her head.

"oi, no disappointment, 'mione! i was the one who got the ministry out of paperwork!"

"burning paper doesn't count, y/n."

"it wasn't burning paper, hermione granger, it was arson."

"no, it was the saddest form of arson i've ever seen."

"hey! that's rude."

"just go on your mission already."

i laughed, "on it, minister. kalle?"

kalle looked at me, "yes?"

"tell miss minister to take a break and play a game or something, will you?"

she smiled, "okay."

"give my thanks to your mother too, loved the cookies!"

"alright, good luck, head!"

"thanks, bye!"

i apparated to the brief room, where everyone was strapped into special camouflage clothes.

i handed hepole the parchment and immediately began briefing the unit, harry and draco, on the mission.

"please be safe out there. if you're injured, apparate or travel back here, okay?"

i looked at hepole.

he cleared his throat, "they're in albania. the forest there."

"okay. harry and draco will provide attacking forces," the two nodded.

"i want lopex, quentin blake, quentin grill and hilly to break into any establishment," i say to the team, "and eron, hawks, melv, argonas to hold the offender hostage. johnathan, team healer as always. i'll take the children. hepole, you come and accompany us till the forest, then you have my permission to stay back, and beckers, stay invisible with the cloak, write a report for the minister when you come back, understand? have faith, team! i believe in you. we travel by apparition with the machine in three minutes. call your family, chat, have a snack, drink some water, and relax."

i picked up my telephone and dialled my parents.

"hi mum, dad, i'm going on a mission!"

"alright, be safe sweetie," my mum called.

"yeah, don't die kiddo," my dad added.

"right right, i love you, bye!"

the mission was successful. we rescued the children and sent the kidnapper to trial for azkaban. i escaped with a gash on my forearm, but quickly fixed it up with a spell. it ended late in the evening, so the team healer had gone home. the wound kept opening again, but i wasn't sure if it needed stitches.

putting everything away and making sure the aurors were okay, i headed back to the apartment i shared with fred.

i felt emotionally and physically drained, ready to enjoy a good shower and a good late dinner.

when i fiddled with the key to the door and opened it, my heart absolutely stopped.

pretoria aphrodite was kissing fred passionately. i felt my heart fall ten thousand flights of stairs in disappointment. of course. i was all a rebound who was pathetically in love with him.

when they stopped and saw me, pretoria smirked and fred stood up, astounded.

"uhh, continue? sorry," i apologised awkwardly.

"wait, y/n, it's not what it looks like-" he said.

"i don't mind, be safe," i smiled, too tired and too weak to do anything, closing the door and feeling tears well up in my eyes as i took my bag and myself somewhere. anywhere away from this all. my wound burned. i cursed under my breath as i made my way to st mungo's.

"y/n, you should have come here earlier!" yvonne, my friend, says, as she slowly injects a needle into me, "it's infected! and it needs stitches."

i laughed, "everything needs stitches. this is why i didn't become a healer, yvonne."

she shook her head in dismay.

"lol."

i watched the needle go in.

then she stitched the bloody mess of a wound up, cleaning it gently.

"now i can't stay, y/n," i pouted, "no, don't give me that face, i have other patients."

i nodded, "thanks yvonne."

"no problems. take care. you're too reckless."

"am not!"

she laughed. "that's funny."

after the trip to st mungo's which was pretty short, i wondered what to do. my mind kept floating to the scene i had just witnessed.

i was just the stupid, stupid, girl he used as a rebound. he didn't even use me as a real rebound, just someone who was simply infatuated with him to help him forget his unforgettable ex.

looking at a shop window, i caught a glimpse of myself. i hated being insecure but it happened.

i looked ugly. eyes too small, nose too big, lips not full enough. my thighs touched and i didn't have abs. i had a long gash running down my forearm, surrounded by other cuts. my hair was messy and disgusting. compared to the angel on earth pretoria was, i was nothing. small and plain was nothing when luxurious and beautiful was present.

and it hurt. my heart hurt. my head hurt.

i shook my head gently of my thoughts, chuckling bitterly.

fred weasley was completely and utterly out of my league.

whatevs, i thought. hurting was fine.

deciding to get over him once and for all, i bought some groceries and apparated to the doorstep of lee and alicia's glamorous cottage.

i knocked twice on the door. "hellooo!" i called out.

"baby, can you get that?" lee asked alicia.

alicia opened the door, smiling as she saw me.

"hey ali!"

"hi! come in!"

at first glance i could tell she knew something wrong.

"can i sleep here tonight? and take a shower? and eat some of your food please guys? and maybe steal a shirt i left here for safekeep? and maybe use your telephone? i'm really sorry for troubling you, so i got you guys snacks."

i was the second cousin by marriage of lee. it was good overall, but he was super naughty.

"snacks?"

"your favourites."

"then i guess you can," he said cheekily and i laughed.

"alicia, i don't know how or why you ended up with this child, but i'm glad you did," i told her and she laughed heartily.

"he's cute, isn't he?"

"no," i quickly stepped into the guest bedroom and took a long shower, letting a few tears slip but not enough so that it looked like it. i was subtle.

i bundled up in heavy clothing and wrapped my hair in a towel.

gingerly, i bandaged the wound.

by the snores in the other room, lee was asleep. i crept out quietly, going to cook something.

alicia was sitting down, with my favourite comfort meal prepared. i felt tears of appreciation well up in my eyes.

"thank you, ali, i love you."

"you damn well do."

we both giggled.

"what happened?" she asked me.

"nothing. i just wanted a change."

"from fred? liar. i'll ask again. what happened, y/n?"

"just a long mission, that's all."

"after long missions you usually watch movies with fred."

"couldn't i visit my best friend and my cuz?"

"you visit us on weekends. it's a friday."

"well i wanted to visit you!"

"bullshit."

"is it that hard to believe?"

"what the fuck did fred do to you?"

"nothin'?"

"c'mon y/n, you have to tell me. there's a reason why you didn't go to angie and george's tonight."

"i went here because they're super kissy. you guys have space and act normally. i appreciate that."

"you're awesome at lying."

"i'm not lying!"

"does this happen to involve pretoria aphrodite?"

i nodded, sighing, "she's so nice and pretty." i played with my food.

"i bumped into her. she's pretty, but not nice."

"oh?"

"she called me fiercely ugly. she forgot i model for witch weekly too."

"what did you say back?"

"i told her to fuck off."

i laughed, "she was very nice to me. but next time i see her imma kill her."

"of course she was nice to you, you're a lil angel! anyway, she's an animagus, didya know?"

"whoa how did you know?"

"caught her in a jar. she's a fly. who do you think told hermione to catch rita skeeter in the jar?"

i laughed, "rita skeeter is a beetle! gosh, she's annoying."

"what did fred and pretoria do?"

"nothing."

"please tell me?"

"they-" i swallowed, "they were kissing, and so i came here because i didn't wanna watch anymore."

"hang on, he told you he loved you a few days ago?"

i nodded.

"that doesn't seem right."

i shrugged, "pretoria's better than me. i don't blame him."

"his mother would kill him!"

i shrugged again, "i don't think he was legit when he said that."

"molly weasley, y/n!"

"look, he can explain it to you, i don't even wanna hear it. the first stage of mourning is denial, they say."

"doesn't mean it's good."

"denial is awesome. it's ignorance, but you choose to be stupid. i'm already so stupid!" i groaned, covering my face with my hands, "so so so so so so so stupid, foolish, dumb, and i don't want you to tell me i'm not because i know i am. pathetic."

i gobbled down the rest of the meal, "ths 's delicous," i said, swallowing, "g'night!"

"don't be afraid to let it all out."

"yeah."

i shut the door softly, before brushing my teeth and collapsing exhaustedly on the bed, nodding off quickly.

the next day, i woke at 4am, and put on new clothes, apparating to the phone box and filling out paperwork for the missions yesterday.

i joined hermione quickly, handing her a cappucino and sipping my mocha.

"court sitting this early?" she asked me.

i nodded, "mistake of sirius black, now they do all court sittings within 24 hours of arrest."

"that's smart."

"yeah. it's good. he's obviously guilty right? just a dust of veritaserum to bring it all out?"

"i reckon he'll just confess."

"criminals don't go down easily."

"you guys did a spotting job. the children were unharmed."

"are they here today?"

"they're in st mungo's. being monitored."

"parents?"

"dead."

"oh gosh, those poor children. what's going to happen to them?"

"someone's adopting them, wally becker and his wife."

"that's awesome."

the court hushed as we entered the room. hermione and i shared amused glances and began the sitting.

he was found to be guilty and was chucked in azkaban.

"what an idiot, sending a message like that."

"yup," i chuckled, "what with hepole in our ministry, they never escape."

we laughed.

"how's everything with ron?" i asked her.

"i don't know if he's still into me?"

i almost laugh at her statement, "bro. of course he is."

"i never see him."

"then see him more!"

"how? i'm so busy!"

"busy enough for ron?" we both took sandwiches from the canteen lady with courteous smiles and words.

we sat down at the cafeteria.

"i guess not, but he's busy!"

"busy enough for you?"

"i guess not."

"'xactly."

"but he might not wanna go on a date."

"why? the boy's obsessed with you, 'mione!"

the aurors and ministry workers looked at us in fear as i rose up. i chuckled.

i immediately skipped over to the telephone, putting in the WWW's number.

"y/n! what on earth are you doing?" hermione said in a panicked tone.

"nothing to be worried 'bout."

"hello?" it was george. i thanked the heavens for that.

"yolo george, give the phone to your lil bro please."

"'kay."

hermione was gaping at me. i smirked at her.

"y/n?"

"hey ron, i want you to meet me in rosemary park at 5pm today."

"o-okay."

"could you also bring hermione's favourite snacks and wear an extra jumper?"

"what? why?"

"i'm curious, that's all," i said, "see you there!"

"is that y/n?" i heard fred's voice.

"nup, it isn't," i replied.

and with that, i hung up.

"hey 'mione?"

she was glaring at me, "what."

"meet me at rosemary park at 5pm?" i batted my eyelashes at her, before bursting out in laughter.

she laughed, "i love you."

"pfft, love ya too. you really are too careful. like he would reject you."

"what do you think i should wear?"

"let's go off work early today, at 3," i suggested, "we're both on top of our work anyway."

"okay! you wanna go now?"

"it's 11?"

"yeah!"

"alrighty! kalle!"

kalle turned to us, "yes?"

"hi! me and minister are going out to talk about the mission."

"alright, bye."

we apparate to hogsmeade.

"what theme do you wanna go for?"

"hmm," she thought for a second, "floral!"

"alrighty!" i fumbled for my cell phone and dialled the WWW's again.

"hello?" it was fred this time.

"heyo freddie," i said to him like nothing had ever happened, "tell ron to dress up at 5 pm in something cute but not too out there, preferably in florals or somethin', and he better bring me hermione's favourite flowers."

"wha? if he's going with you then- ohhhh."

"thanks, bye."

"wait!"

"mhm?"

"can we talk?"

"erm- about what exactly?"

"everything."

i sighed, "later, okay? i'm out with hermione and you've got work."

"okay. have a good time, lovely."

"you too."

i was utterly confused. here he was one day kissing pretoria, and now he was calling me lovely?

what the hell was going on?

"let's go, mione!"

we went and bought her a pretty pink dress with white lilies adorning it. it was cute and definitely casual, sort of like a sundress.

"what if he doesn't come?" hermione chewed on her lip.

"hermione jean granger, we both know that ron is absolutely definitely a thousand times head over heels in love with you. he wouldn't ditch you for the world! and look at you! anyone can see he's lucky to have you! you both are star-crossed. when has he ever ever ditched you?"

"with lav brown."

"lavender, she's, she's dead, hermione," i said carefully, "fenrir greyback bit her to death. it was a tragic, heroic, death. she was listed in the extended casualties sent to my office a few months after the battle. i think she's watching down on us from wherever she is up there."

"she's dead?"

"yeah," i replied sadly, "life is so short."

"yeah."

"what i'm tryna say, is that that might've happened, but it won't happen again now that he knows you love him and he loves you. understand?"

"yeah."

"and love him well, for the sake of lavender brown."

"for the sake of lavender brown," she said, smiling.

"yup, now, light lord. his name is actually pont knight."

"pont knight?"

"former assistant of me."

"pont knight?"

"yeah, i know right."

"how did he go again?"

"oh, i fired him," i laughed.

"why?"

"smart guy but terribly lazy and he kept asking for promotions! like please do something if you want money."

"interesting."

"he moved to eastern europe to chase after the trendiness of the islands. i think it was just an excuse. he's changed. he used to be clean-shaven and have the blondest hair."

"do you think he did anything else?"

"we did put him on veritaserum, right?"

"yeah, but it's illegal to put someone on it for more than 10 minutes now in court sittings."

"we could go visit him in azkaban later? i'll take gregir."

"yeah, maybe tomorrow or the day after?"

i nodded, "'course. today is a rest day for the aurors right?"

she nodded, "yeah, half of the agency is at home or working out in the gym."

"good. sometimes this work is so tolling, 'mione."

"yeah, i heard from st mungo's you got hurt?" her eyes were concerned.

i rolled up my sleeve, "that's it."

"that's it? what do you mean, that's terrible! you need to take better care of yourself."

"well sometimes it's hard to. it was worth it."

we continued chatting until it was 4:30.

"oop!" she checked her watch, "i have to go!"

"good luck! tell me how it goes, minister! i'll head back to check if anyone's called for you or me and dust it all up."

"thanks. i owe you."

"nah. i owe my job to you. if minister for magic didn't exist, i wouldn't either. i love you 'mione, be safe!"

"love you too!"

i apparated to the phone box and typed my letters in.

with a whoosh, i immediately spotted two letters and a beeping phone. i answered the phone, solving the problem of the woman on the other end of the line and scribbled a reply to both of the letters.

i finished the paperwork and sent it off, then visited my office. it was piling with letters. i answered all of them, redirecting some of them to different departments, before calling everyone back.

i spotted some of the aurors from yesterday's mission sitting in the cafeteria and talking.

i sat down next to them, "how are you guys doing? any injuries?"

they shook their heads, "we've been spending time in the healer's office and just exercising lightly by the orders of johnny," argonas explained and i nodded.

"take it lightly, and go home if you want to. seeing family always helps the process, hopefully not too many nightmares?"

they laughed, "nightmares all the time, miss," hawk said lightly, "get used to it in this job."

i frowned, "have you tried speaking to doctor yvonne? she might have ways to solve nightmares."

"ahh, miss, sleeping draughts can only do so much," hawk replied cordially.

i laughed, "alright, hawkeye, but just make sure you're not getting traumatised okay? what about you, lopex, quentins?"

they shrugged.

"it's okay? the door was very hard to bust into," lopex said quietly, "we had to try several bombarding charms."

"now, lop, it was easy work!" draco said, sitting down, "hello, head auror, hello unit."

it brought on a cacophony of greetings.

"how are you doing, dray?" harry sat down next to him, "hi everyone!"

we all replied with more greetings and a steady conversation started and flowed for a couple of hours.

i felt my cell phone go off and i excused myself, noting it was 9pm already.

i apparated to the apartment doorstep, knocking on the door just in case anything was happening. i checked the caller id, it was hermione.

fred opened the door, hair messy, still good looking. i smiled at him, patting his shoulder as i ran to the ringing telephone and picked it up.

"y/n!" i could just hear the beam in hermione's voice.

"'mione! how did it go?"

"absolutely wonderful, head auror, ahhh, he's so cute!"

"what happened?" i asked, smiling already.

"well it was really cold when i saw the picnic blanket, which was matching my dress for some weird reason, and ron was there in the cutest button up and he looked so handsoME and he gave me a flower, he's always handsome but i just can't! ahhhh!" she squealed and i clapped my hands in excitement.

"and then i was shivering and he gave me hiS JUMPER and it smelled like him and oh my gosh i think i might just be in love, y/n!"

i giggled, "my cooling charm did work!"

"whaT y/n????"

cackling, i said, "continue, i wanna hear more this is so adorable!!!"

i ignored the dirty glance fred gave me, quietening my voice.

"and then we had food and he said he had cooked it himself and was being such a dear and i told him that i loved him over and over again!!!"

i squealed silently again.

"and, and, gosh my english has gone out of the window!"

"english is nothing compared to the language of love!!" i giggled.

"we watched the sunset whilst cuddling, and i fell asleep and then when i woke up i was in his bed and he was looking at me intently and i just, i'm the luckiest girl alive!"

"you are but you deserve it! that's so sweet! i'm happy for you goshhh, you are the cutest couple. you're both such darlings!"

"and then we watched a muggle movie and he got scared of the spiders and it was so adorable ahhhhHHHH!!!"

"that's the cutesttttt," i gushed.

another dirty look from fred. i gave him a frown back.

"and then he walked me home and it started raining and we kissed in the rain and another check off of my bucketlist and oh my gosh he's so perfect."

"oh gosh that's beautiful," i was smiling uncontrollably.

"anyway," her tone changed into one of mischief, "wanna meet up tomorrow to talk about it?"

"sure thing! when and where? i'll be there!"

"erm, lemme chec- think," i heard the suspicious rustling of papers.

"you're sus. let's just talk about it over the phone. i don't want anything weird."

"how about 10 am in the morning at the field of fireflies?"

"that's a highly romantic place, miss minister. isn't it for couples or something?"

"no? you must be talking about fiona farm."

oh. "yeah, probs, well okay, it better have good coffee. i'm dying of boredom too, does it have a playground??" i asked, hopefully crossing my fingers.

"nope."

"awww, shucks, i don't think i'll go then. you wanna come over though?"

"no please come! there's a surprise!"

i was sold, "lovely. i'll be there at 9:30!"

"no, no, don't do that."

"what the hell, hermione, you're being so suspicious!"

"i'm not, okay? just come on time, you won't regret it."

"if there's any funny business i'm not committing arson ever again."

"oh crap."

i sighed.

"just come anyway!!! good night cheerio!!!"

"what the-"

the line ended.

i frowned, noticing the glare fred gave me yet again.

"is everything okay??" i asked him.

"no," he said rudely.

"well, do you need any help?"

"no."

"how was your day?"

"fine."

i sighed, "okay."

"you called ron cute."

i laughed lightly, "that's it?? and so what's kissing a girl huh, nothing? i called him cute because he treats 'mione like a goddess, because she is a goddess, for goodness sake. and he is cute, in a completely objective way," i added absentmindedly, "all you weasleys are."

he frowned.

"she kissed me!"

"oh i don't mind, i couldn't. my two braincells can't handle it. you kiss whoever you wanna, okay? live, laugh, love, and all that." i smiled.

he was silent.

"and we can talk after i meet up with hermione, okay?"

"okay."

"we don't needa if you don't wanna, of course. g'night."

"have a nice sleep."

the next morning, i got up and went to the field of fireflies or whatever.

it was a beautiful place. it was a full on field. meadows stretched across the near english countryside. the sky was clear and light, and the world around me was stunning.

winds blew from all directions, and i soon found myself accio!ing a jumper.

"hermioneeee???" i called, "you're leaving me hanging."

had hermione stood me up? i chuckled at the very thought, soon rolling in the field of flowers as i laughed.

"hermione you devil you stood me up! you left your poor little work wife hanging!" i shouted dramatically.

i suddenly spotted a little house? by the side of the meadow.

i ran towards it.

"whoa."

it was absolutely magnificent. beige little bricks were stacked on top of each other, grey bricks dotted in. the shillings were dark green, and plants hung out everywhere in the cracks of the house.

large windows which reflected the blue light in the sky spanned across the whole house, and a single wooden door stood ajar.

i just wish i had brought a camera. i sat on the grass, playing with the hem of my jumper sadly. even hermione didn't have time for me. i wondered what a sad person i must seem like.

"contemplating life there?" i heard a far off voice. i swung my head around, seeing fred standing and grinning.

yeah well duh i was, no thanks to you, i thought.

i immediately got up.

"we can talk here, right?" fred asked, as he brought me into the house.

"wow," inside, it was cluttered and messy, with plants sprouting everywhere and bookcases and things everywhere. i loved it.

"you like it?" he asked.

"love it."

"good, because i bought it," he laughed at my flabbergasted expression, "i'm rich, darlin'. let's sit, i cooked lunch."

"was this your plan? to have hermione stand me up?" i asked.

"love, i wouldn't call this a plan. simply just a boy trying to explain himself."

"look i don't need an explanation. i told you, you can love whoever you wanna, i don't mind, i don't care, i support."

"but i'm gonna have to explain because i wanna kiss you."

"then go ahead," i sighed, "if you're lying i will stab you."

"jeesh okay."

i looked at him.

"oh yeah, i forgot the food, here," he said casually, handing me a plate filled with yummy looking delicacies. i was willing to put up with his rubbish story telling for the food, i guess.

"alright, i'm all ears."

"okay. so she talked with you right?"

i nodded.

"did she take a piece of hair from you?”

i nodded again.

"so you came home just right about when the night lights flicker on in london. or so i thought it was you. it was actually, aphrodite, yeah? in polyjuice potion. and she knocked on the door, which i thought was strange. i opened it and she immediately kissed me, as you. and it was weird but it was you and i would give the world to kiss you like that," he said bluntly and i could feel my face heating up, "and then it went like that for a few seconds and she turned into pretoria, and by then the woman had her claws on me. then the door opened and i knew i had made a mistake and then you left and apologised so sweetly. i'm so so sorry, my love, please, i never meant to hurt you, i never meant to do anything. i broke up with her last year. i haven't wanted to be with her since. i want to be with you."

i looked at him. i knew he was genuine.

"okay. i'm sorry too, for not trusting you. i guess i was just really unsure of our relationship. it's still kinda blurry."

"what do you wanna be?"

"could we be official, please?"

he grinned, "of course."

then smiling sheepishly, he added, "can i kiss you now?"

"only if i'm the only girl you kiss from now on," i teased, smiling.

he blushed, placing my hands over his heart. it was beating very very fast.

"feel that, beautiful?"

i nodded.

"only you."

he gave me a cheesy grin and laughed at my blushing face, before tilting my head upwards and going in for a kiss but kissing my cheek.

"that's not fair!"

and that's how his head ended up falling into my lap, as i ran my fingers through his ginger strands.

he had fallen asleep just as the sunset began.

it was breathtaking. hues of orange and red danced across the sky.

"i can think of something a lot more beautiful than that," fred said, smiling.

"oh?"

"yeah. yeah."

"i don't believe you."

"that's because you can't see yourself right now."

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magnus-the-maqnificent · 4 years ago

Text

Let's Analyze - Alec in CoFA

So, I’ve been seeing plenty of discourse on two of my mutual’s blogs about this topic… so I thought I’d sit down and write another analysis post about my beloved Alec Lightwood cause people are still giving him shit for a book that came out ten years ago 🤦‍♀️

This is gonna be in two parts, and I'm putting both under the cut:

PART 1 - ALEC’S INSECURITIES

So, the first part - how Alec’s insecurities drove him to saying stupid things in CoFA

A quick disclaimer - I’m NOT blaming Alec alone for his and Magnus’s break up. What happened was pretty complicated, and the blame cannot be put on one person alone.

That said, let’s start with Magnus and Alec’s early ‘official’ relationship, in trsom.

These scenes are taken from only the first part of the book, but I’m pretty sure they’re more than enough to get a sense of Alec’s insecurities and all the chinks in their relationship. Throughout the entirety of trsom, we see more bits and pieces of Alec’s insecurities about Magnus’s sexuality, and his past and all the people he might have known - and that’s okay! Insecurities happen, cause brains are stupid like that.

But all of Alec’s insecurities could’ve been laid to rest with a simple conversation. But the conversation never happens. Magnus tends to deflect and change the topic every single time his past is brought up. I understand Magnus’s reasons for hiding his past, of course, but it doesn’t help his relationship with Alec. Magnus hiding a good chunk of his past will inevitably lead to Alec questioning himself - why is he so secretive? Why is he not telling me anything? Does he not trust me? ...and so on.

And when Alec is already feeling insecure in this relationship, this happens - (sorry about the terrible cropping btw)

And then later, while Magnus is talking to Camille,

Now… when people are insecure about something, they get irked at the smallest of things. I’m saying this as an insecure person myself. So now, you've got Alec, who's insecure as fuck, and his vacation with the person he loves got cut short by his ex who refuses to talk to anyone but him, and when they get there, his lover and his lover's ex seem to have obvious chemistry, he gets hit with the reality that his lover has dated several, probably even hundreds of people before him; and he has to leave them alone in a room so they can talk, and then he hears the ex basically just list all his shortcomings - i.e, his mortality, his appearance is compared to some random dead guy (sorry, Will) whom your lover had a crush on, which is just weird, and when you've had enough and open the door, it's to see your lover and his ex, standing close as fuck, and he's! touching! her! face! and! looking! into! her! eyes!

*takes a sip of water* yeahhhh... Alec was straight up having a bad day.

And at this point, a) Alec is still in his first relationship. He didn't get to navigate romance when he was younger, and while there's nothing wrong with that, there weren't exactly cutesy presentations titled 'how to keep your relationships healthy' floating around the internet. Heck, he didn’t know the internet. He didn't know that he had to communicate with Magnus, and it doesn't help that boy avoids conversations about feelings like the plague. And b) at this point, Alec would be facing several negative emotions - insecurity, obviously. Hurt. Helplessness, because of his mortality. Fear, that he might not live up to Magnus’s past lovers. Jealousy at seeing Magnus and Camille so close.

Negative emotions like these often tend to show up as anger or sorrow... and in Alec’s case, that would be anger. Which leads us to THIS- (🙈)

*sighs in second-hand embarrassment*

*drinks more water*

*this is gonna be so hard aksjakak*

So. Alec dealt with his insecurities... by being a mean, mean bitch to Magnus :/

Let's break this scene down, slowly, bit by bit.

First, Alec cuts into a conversation between Magnus and Jordan, when Magnus mentions Woolsey Scott, followed the rest of that particular page. To Alec, he's just a figure from Magnus’s past, and a possible lover, though in Alec’s defense Woolsey Scott WAS Magnus’s lover. This is the first instance that we see in which Alec lashes out at Magnus. It seems like he's trying to make a point to Magnus - "I don't know anything about your past, and so I don't know who you've had romances with, but I want to know." Except he makes his point in the worst way possible and ends up slutshaming Magnus.

The "What's true?" line, in response to Jordan saying "so it's true what they say about warlocks, then?" is pretty obvious. Alec is clearly not liking the idea that this random werewolf might know about warlocks, and in particular, his Warlock boyfriend.

Next... ooh boy... Alec basically snaps and in the next few paragraphs accuses Magnus of wanting to flirt with others which... is not a good look on ya honey 😕. These lines are the ones that get him accused of being biphobic... but is he really? I'm gonna talk about that in part 2.

So, in the first paragraph, where Alec makes the comments about Jordan, I find his choice of words pretty... interesting, seeing as 'messy-haired', 'broad-shouldered' and 'chiseled-good-looks' are all used to describe Alec in the series. Not sure if its relevant, but definitely interesting.

And in the next one, where Alec says, "or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways. Is there anything you aren't into?" The 'apparently' makes me curious. In rsom, Alec mentions that he's only recently heard of the term bisexual, and there's plenty of time between rsom and cofa, so Alec should be absolutely sure of atleast the basic meaning of bisexuality. But I'm pretty sure it's just inconsistency on cc's part, since if rsom didn't exist, this book would be the first time Alec learns about Magnus’s bisexuality. (Which is obvious when you look at the scene after Magnus reveals that Camille is his girlfriend.) And as for the second sentence, I feel like it's a fallback to earlier in the book when Magnus says (I'm just gonna write the dialogue from memory), "I've dated men, women, warlocks, faeries, vampires, werewolves and even a djinn or two." Here, Alec is angry, and he takes the knowledge that Magnus has dated a variety of people and once again, lashes out.

Looking at all of it together, Alec’s insecurities are definitely a factor in all of this. We know Alec has pretty low self esteem in tmi, and he keeps having irrational thoughts about someone else grabbing Magnus’s attention, like in the trsom scene I've posted above. And he ends up taking out his insecurities on Magnus.

Was it wrong of Alec to say all those things to Magnus? Yes, absolutely. But looking back through all his scenes in cofa, it's easy to see how he could've fallen into the pit trap of emotions.

And before anyone says "but it wasn't addressed in the later books", it was, in CoLS. I’ve hit the image limit, so I'm just gonna type it out -

"[Magnus] said it would be better if he didn’t come. Apparently him and the Seelie Queen have some kind of history."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows.

"Not that kind of history," Alec said irritably. "Some kind of feud. Though," he added, half under his breath, "the way he got around before me, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Alec!" Isabelle dropped back to talk to her brother....

So, there. Alec makes yet another slutshaming comment, Isabelle overhears and is clearly not happy about it, and it's clearly implied that she talks to Alec about it. And Alec doesn't make any more slutshaming comments since then. Boy now knows what he did was wrong, and makes sure not to repeat it again.

Although, I do wish we had more than this. I wish we had more of Magnus and Alec talking about this argument, heck, even about all their arguments and the reasons they broke up, but you can't get everything you want, apparently :(

And now onto the next part...

PART 2 - IS ALEC BIPHOBIC?

The short answer, uh, no, not really.

The long answer.... would be complicated.

So, back in the day, when this discourse was at an all time high, I remember reading a bisexual person's essay about this topic, and they said that this comment from Alec - "or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways. Is there anything you aren't into?" - would be a biphobic microagression.

According to Google, a microagression is "a statement, action, or incident regarded as an instance of indirect, subtle, or unintentional discrimination against members of a marginalized group such as a racial or ethnic minority".

And in Alec's case, IF his words were biphobic, they were completely unintentional. They were microagressive. Which is... still bad, of course, but it's more complicated than that.

If you look back on Alec's supposedly biphobic statements, they're more about Magnus’s hypersexuality and promiscuity than anything else. Yes, even the line i mentioned like two paragraphs ago. At first glance it may seem like a direct attack on Magnus’s sexuality, but think over the explanation I gave for the line and it will make sense. And a lot of people know that the whole 'bi people fuck around a lot and are cheaters' thing is a stereotype.

Now, it may seem like I'm going off topic here, but bear with me. I couple of days ago, I watched this video by chance. (Tw for the aids crisis and lots of biphobia, not from the narrator, if you wanna watch the video). Basically, back in the 1980s, bisexual men were scapegoated for spreading aids to the straight community and were vilified by popular media as being promiscuous scepters who would cheat on their wives with gay men and then give aids to their wives. (Yikes 😬). And since bisexuality was practically unheard of before all this (several bisexual activists have stated that all this shit, though unfortunate, pulled bisexuality out of the closet), it's safe to assume that this is how those stereotypes came to be - through 1980s propaganda.

But living with this propaganda is... a very limiting experience. The people who leaned and unlearned and fought against this propaganda are mostly US Americans who grew up with it, either the actual propaganda itself or passed down by their parents. But like I said, it's a very limiting experience. US is but one country out of many, and even for those living in the USA there's a chance that they grew up in a very hush-hush environment. People who grew up hearing all these stereotypes will see it as biphobia, while people who didn't - like Alec, and me, and several other people will not. A lot of people grow up with absolutely no knowledge of the queer community, and chances are that they'll be incredibly confused when a stereotype is pointed out to them, and they often get no more explanation than 'this is a harmful stereotype'. Queer experiences aren't the same for everyone, and while I respect the people who see this as biphobia, they should recognize that there are many people who won't see it that way.

I have seen bisexual people say that Alec's words were biphobic, and I've also seen bisexual people say that they weren't. Thus, there is no clear consensus about whether or not Alec was being biphobic. And like I said earlier, Alec grew up far, far away from mundane anti-queer bigotry. He was essentially a clean slate when it came to knowledge of eer microagressions of any kind, because microagressions and stereotypes are often incredibly specific, don't have anything to do with a person's race/sexuality/gender, etc. and will make zero sense unless you know the history behind them. To Magnus, who lived through the anti-bisexual scapegoating, the words would've definitely stung, but Alec didn't even know the implications he would be making with this words! Of course, the impact is greater than intention, and I imagine Magnus would sit Alec down one day and talk about all this history with him.

And idk if I can even blame cc cause the history of bisexual men is RARELY ever talked about, atleast on the internet.

Also, this scene in cofa is the only instance where he can be interpreted to be biphobic. Nowhere else in all of tmi, and even tec, do we see Alec express hatred or disgust or microagression towards bisexual people. If this was seen in a repeating pattern from Alec, one could argue that he's biphobic... but he isn't. Some might point to some of his internal thoughts in trsom to argue otherwise, but I believe that actions are superior than thoughts.

There's also the thing about unlearning prejudices, but in Alec's case there was hardly anything to be unlearned. The only prejudices he did pick up on were against himself, through vague homophobic comments from Robert.

P.S if you've read this far, I am legally entitled to compensation for thinking of cofa Alec for 48 hours. Put your favorite Alec moments in my askbox cause I wanna focus on his good side now. 😎

But yeah, the main thing here is that Alec has grown from his mistakes, apologized, and hasn't repeated this behavior at all.

And lastly, I just wanted to add - I don't think all this was unintentional on the author's part. She's grown up with the us American queer community, and has mentioned that she has bisexual friends, who have no doubt faced prejudices because of these stereotypes. I think she was trying to condemn making such statements, but a lot of people don't read between the lines and end up misinterpreting it and make both the character and her to be biphobic.

So... TLDR; was what Alec said biphobic? Maybe. It depends on who you're talking to. Is Alec, as a person, biphobic? Nope. Not at all. 😌

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yourmidnightlover · 4 years ago

Text

i’ll never be ready

Summary: when you've been taken by the recent unsub, you both come to a shocking realization.

TW: torture, self-hatred (derek, spencer), scars, noah (the sucky date guy), angst, fluff if you squint. let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,486

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saying the case was rough was under kill-which, ironically, was opposite of the unsub's mo. everyone had nearly lost count of how long they had been awake. 36, maybe 38 hours of nonstop work? going over case files and reviewing them for something - anything you might've missed. it all seemed a bit pointless because each time you reread a file you felt your eyes dropping down, threatening to betray you and make you succumb to the sleep.

"y/n," hotch spoke. "you've been up the longest. go back to the hotel with derek and get some rest. be back here in 5 hours," he demanded in a soft tone.

"won't argue with that," you chuckled best you could before morgan grabbed the keys, ushering the two of you to the car.

your hotel room was a few doors down from morgan's. he bid you goodnight before he opened his door, allowing you to continue on to your room. you decided to get a bottle of water - the sleep deprivation probably making you feel more dehydrated than you actually were.

after you paid for the bottle, you took a swig of it and trudged on to your room. only, you didn't make it. it felt as though the sleep you yearned for had finally taken over as it was accompanied by a throbbing migraine in the back of your head.

"what's taking them so long?" emily asked, looking at hotch for answers.

l"i'm not sure. i told them to only be gone for fi-" he was cut off by morgan slamming into the police station.

"she's gone," he uttered plainly, worriedly as he avoided any eye contact with the rest of the team.

"what do you mean 'she's gone?'" jj argued, feeling the worry bubble up inside of her as morgan continued talking.

"i knocked on her door to let her know that we had to leave. i-i thought she might've just slept through her alarm. but then she never answered," his eyes finally met someone on the team's. "i kicked through the door and the bed -it-it wasn't even slept in. i'm so sorry," he mumbled to that particular team member.

spencer felt his heart drop in his chest. he wasn't angry, per say. he was furious. he was frustrated and confused and wanted to hit something - someone. but not morgan. he wasn't mad at morgan. it wasn't his fault you were gone. at least that's what he thought until Garcia pulled up the footage from 6 hours ago.

the image of derek going inside his room, allowing you to wander past yours and retrieve the water before walking halfway back to yours, only to be hit over the head, was the only thing he could see. and what he did see... well, what he saw was in red.

"you didn't even walk her to her room?!" spencer accused derek.

"kid, we were all tired. i'm sorry, i really am," he pleaded with the young man.

"don't 'kid' me! 'sorry' won't bring her back! we know what this guy does to people and you didn't even make sure she was safe!" spencer walked closer to derek. "i can't believe you. we all had a discussion about how she was the unsub's type. you knew that and you still let her get taken," he poked his finger in his chest.

"i didn't let her do anything. i didn't want this to happen, reid," morgan tried to calm him down, only for them to be interrupted by jj coming into the room, asking for spencer to come with her before promptly leaving derek by himself. "i-i swear, babygirl, i didn't think th-"

"that's the problem, derek," she cut him off. "you didn't think," she said in a calm, sweet tone. "i love you, i truly do, but even when your guards are down when you're tired... you need to think."

"i know... i know. i don't- i don't know what to do now," he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"now you go be the hero i know you are," garcia smiled before signing off, leaving derek staring at a blank, black screen.

"look who's up," the unsub sang as you turned your head whilst lying on the cold, steel table. "before you try anything, there's no point in fighting. you're strapped down with reinforcements and the room is sealed with a steel door that can only be unlocked with my key."

"so what? should i just let you do whatever you want to me?" you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, observing the state of the room.

it wasn't very clean. it was dirty and grungy and the smell was absolutely horrid. you nearly gagged upon looking to the corner of the room, seeing an abundance of takeout and old pizza boxes - clearly old and moldy.

"that'll happen regardless, sweetheart," he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, humming as he did so. "such a beautiful girl, truly," his hand travelled further south, grasping your neck tightly with the one hand before he brought a second one up to join it.

you stared him in his hooded eyes as he strangled you gently. you didn't make a show if it - that's where he got off. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. although you would have to throw him a bone so he wouldn't kill you.

he was a sexual sadist. he got the relief from your pain and struggle. he would keep at it until you gave him what he wanted - your pain.

the profile had revealed that the unsub had a history of hatred for women from his own mother - who was most likely abusive. it was assumed that his father left at an early age and his mother blamed him for his departure.

"damnit!" he slapped your face, relinquishing his grip on your throat to allow you to breathe.

"what? can the big-strong-tough-guy not get off?" you mocked him, another slap hitting your face.

"shut UP!" he shouted at you. "when i get back you better be more cooperative," he spat out before grabbing a duffel bag and leaving.

a sigh of relief left you when the doors shut, hearing the deadbolt latch lock to signal you were stuck. you wriggled your wrists around, noticing they were bound by leather straps, as were your ankles.

"alright," hotch began as they gathered in the makeshift conference room, "so he has a 12 hour lead on us with her. we've profiled that the unsub keeps all the women at the same location. it'd be too difficult to move them with all the equipment he uses on them..." he looked towards spencer as he spoke, wanting to make sure he was alright.

"this has to be a power assertion move," emily added.

"you're right," rossi agreed. "taking a fbi agent would make him arrogant."

"so maybe he'll screw up? maybe we could find her?" spencer lit up at the brief sight of hope.

"don't get too excited, we still need him to make that mistake. but, yes, there's hope," hotch agreed.

penelope appeared all too sudden on the laptop screen, looking rather worried before she announced, "i'm gonna send you the video that just appeared on every screen in my bat cave. just... be prepared."

and then you were there.

you were strapped to the table, your shirt cut open to reveal your skin to the screen. the camera seemed to be hovering above the bed, focused on your body and the marks that already adorned it. you had a hand-shaped bruise on your trachea; a bruise on your cheekbone underneath your eye was contrasting your pale skin. the gag in your mouth held it open in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. you looked tired. reasonably so, you never did get that proper rest you wanted.

and spencer would never get to tell you what he wanted if you couldn't make it out of there alive.

he never thought of you as anything but a friend but now that there was the possibility of you not making it back to him, he couldn't help but feel different about you. his heart was aching and he knew it would never stop until he was able to give it to you. now, he knew he wanted to hold you as more than a friend. he wanted to dance with you romantically rather than a silly platonic friendly thing. he wanted to kiss you, and tell you that he'd never leave you alone again. he just wanted you.

"look at how pretty she is lying there on the table," a voice that was off-screen cheered out. "although she's always quite the hottie, isn't that right... spencer? was that the name you told me, agent?" he grasped your chin, forcing your face to contort as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp. "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed before releasing your face.

your eyes welled with tears upon the realization that the team might not make it to you on time. you had tried to put up a fight - you swore you did. but you could only fight so hard for so long. the light left your eyes in the form of tears streaming down your face, leaving them on display for your own team to mourn with you.

"looks like he won't be saving you, after all," he chuckled as shuffling was heard from over the screen. "let's see if they like the show, huh?" he brought a knife from out of his bag before removing the gag from your mouth.

"turn it off! turn it off!" you begged. "they-they don't need to see this, hudson," you revealed his name.

"hudson was the deputy that went home 13 hours ago. he was the one that gave us the files and intel on people in town. i guess he didn't actually go home," reid reminded the team.

"shut up, BITCH!" hudson wiped the knife down your right arm, a light hiss leaving your mouth from the intrusion.

"how about we get something to eat, yea? order some more jonny's pizza?" you emphasized before the knife went back into your skin, this time on the other arm.

"jonny's pizza is in a neighborhood only 10 miles away from here. hudson might own property near there. garcia?" spencer announced once more.

"on it," penelope declared before working her magic. "it says here that hudson's family owns an old restaurant that was shut down three years ago. it was passed on to him once his mother died. i'm sending the address your way."

"morgan, you're with me and emily-"

"i'm going with you," reid interjected.

"are you sure you're in the right-"

"i have to see her. i have to... i have to make sure she's okay," spencer tried to reason. hotch sighed before nodding his head in agreement.

they brought an ipad with them so they could watch as they traveled to the location. your arms were bleeding, but he had avoided the major arteries that would've killed you. your sobs wracked through the device, shattering spencer's heart more than he thought possible.

when they got to the restaurant, there were wooden boards surrounding every entrance. they left the sirens off in hopes to not scare the unsub into killing you.

"fbi!" morgan did his classic entrance, kicking the door in promptly. "hudson williams! fbi!" he led the team to the back of the room where a large, steel door rested.

spencer and hotch went to the sides of morgan, nodding at him to continue before he kicked the door in. the three, followed by more swat members, flooded inside the room quickly. spencer's eyes locked on yours as you lay on the table, looking sideways to see him. he saw the tears flow from your eyes as the unsub swung his knife up into the air, intent on stabbing you once more, this time fatally. spencer could swear he saw you mouth something to him before a shot rang through the air.

he looked to his side to see morgan had fired the shot that killed hudson, his knife falling beside your body as your body began shaking with sobs.

"let me go! let me go ple-please! get these off!" your arms struggled at the restraints before spencer holstered his gun, running to your side to work at the leather bindings.

"i'm here," he undid your wrists before you wrapped them around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder before sobs overtook you. "you're safe now, you're safe," his hand stroked the back of your head as you cried into his skin. "here," he pulled back momentarily before he shrugged off his vest and cardigan, handing you the cardigan to pull over your body.

"thanks," you sniffled as you pulled it tight over your body, covering your exposed state before embracing spencer once more, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

"i'm never letting you go again, y/n," he whispered before placing a kiss to your hairline. "never."

"good," you responded before he took you in his arms, carrying you to the ambulance that made it's way to the restaurant soon after they did.

you were severely dehydrated. the lacerations on your arm caused you to lose a lot of blood. you had a concussion. but you would be okay. you were alive. by some miracle, you were alive. you were alive and he'd never let you out of his sight again.

the entire time you were gone, you couldn't stop thinking about spencer. i mean, yes, your team entered your mind but not as much as spencer. who did you cry out for when he would hurt you? spencer. where would you go to distract you from what was going on? spencer's arms. spencer was the answer to all of your problems. it was spencer.

"spencer?" you asked as your head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as a mild attempt to keep you warm.

"yes?" he turned his head down to face your droopy face.

"i..." you stopped once you realized what you had planned on revealing. "please don't leave?"

"i won't," he gently took your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to see his. "i promise."

you nodded your head contentedly, satisfied with his answer. you couldn't say anything about how you felt now of all times. you needed him, as selfish as that seemed. you needed him to lean on as a crutch right now. telling him how you feel is risky. he could run away and distance himself from you once you open your mouth. so instead, you'd keep it shut.

as the weeks went by, your wounds healed. your heart tried to mend itself as time went on, but the process wasn't as smooth as it was with your external wounds. it was a rollercoaster process. you tried to convince yourself that you didn't love spencer. each night when he would come to your house to check up on you and watch a tv show or movie, you allowed yourself to imagine a life with him. a life where you didn't have to hide your feelings from him.

and spencer thought that telling you right after might've brought on too much stress for you. he thought it would be selfish to tell you such a thing after you nearly died. so, he pushed his feelings down as well.

and then penelope happened.

she had set you up on a date with one of sam's friends from counter-terrorism. you didn't really want to go, but you felt bad enough after skipping all of the girls' nights once you got abducted. so, you had gotten ready.

you wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt, the sleeves to avoid a conversation with a stranger you truly weren't ready for. to be honest, you were dreading whatever would happen tonight. you had mentioned the date to spencer, telling him how you didn't even want to go anywhere; you weren't ready to go out in public by yourself yet. he wasn't excited for you, who would be after you confessed your hesitance on going anywhere.

"i'm heading out now, spence," you walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where spencer was standing, waiting for you to get ready.

"al-alright," he nodded before turning towards you. "you look... you look beautiful, y/n," he sighed, making you blush lightly.

"thank you," you went to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. "for everything," you kissed his cheek before pulling away. "i don't think it'll be that long, i hope it's not that long," you chuckled before continuing, "so i'll see you after?"

"uhm, yea," he agreed. "i'll see you later."

you sighed before grabbing your keys and leaving, driving to the restaurant penny had told you to go to. it had only been two months since your abduction. you hadn't been anywhere without someone with you, most of the time it was spencer. you parked the car, grabbing your purse from the passenger seat and placing it in your lap.

you shouldn't have come. you shouldn't have done anything. you should've stayed with spencer. you should've let him know how you felt. you should've...

you felt tears well in your eyes before you pushed those thoughts down. you took a deep breath to compose yourself before you walked into the restaurant. you were led to the table noah miller would be at by the host.

"hi," noah greeted you.

"hi," you tried your best to muster up a smile as you sat down.

"uhm, penelope mentioned how beautiful you were, but i think it was severe underkill," he chuckled,

"oh, wow, thank you," you smiled. "you look pretty great yourself," you motioned. there was a moment of unsettling silence before you continued, "i haven't been out in a while. so, be patient with me tonight."

"sam mentioned that you went through something... an abduction, i believe?" you nodded your head. "that is beyond cool. do you... do you have any scars?" his eyes widened at the thought.

"ex-excuse me?" you furrowed your brows at the question.

"do you have any scars from the abduction?" he asked once more as if he didn't sense what was wrong with it in the first place.

"you... you're seriously asking to see the scars from when i was almost killed?" you scoffed before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"are those your scars?" he awed as he pointed towards your arms, the sleeves had ridden up on your skin.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you jerked your sleeves down once more before you stood up and grabbed your purse. "i hope you rot in hell you freak."

you ran out to your car before calling spencer, tears already streaming down your face as you locked your car door.

"spencer reid," he answered the phone.

"spence?" you sniffled, wiping your nose.

"y/n? what is it? what happened?" he rose from his spot on his couch, shutting his book worriedly.

"i just... the date it - i need you, spencer," you cried out once more.

"do you need me to pick you up or are you alright to drive to my place?"

"i-i can drive," you replied as you wiped your tears.

"alright," he said. "i'll be waiting. should i stay on the phone with you as you drive? you could put me on speaker?"

"yea-yes, please," you answered before putting the phone on speaker.

you drove there as he read his book to you. his voice calmed you down a bit... only a little bit. not as much as his touch would. so, you sped there as fast you could without getting pulled over.

once you knocked on his door it opened in a matter of milliseconds. spencer's arms went around your waist as yours went around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. your sobs rang through spencer's skin as he rubbed circles into your back, walking the two of you inside his apartment before he closed the door.

"what happened?" spencer asked as you curled into him whilst sitting on the couch.

"the guy wanted to see the scars," you sniffled. "when i got upset he saw them because my sleeves rolled up and well... the rest is history," you chuckled humorlessly.

"he really...?" spencer leaned back to look you in the eyes.

"yea... i know," you rolled you eyes.

"well whoever that guy is sucks. he doesn't deserve you," he twirled your hair in his fingers before continuing. "would you want to talk about it?"

"mm-mm," you shook your head. "not yet. i'm not ready."

and then it was more than abundantly clear. you might not ever be ready to tell him.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#spencer reid angst #angst #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #doctor reid

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neurosky · 3 years ago

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so, little health update for you guys

physical health

as for physical health, there's a lot of suspected stuff going on. my FND symptoms have been great, i had practically no symptoms for a couple months and i'm about 3.5 months seizure free! the only symptoms i've been experiencing have been seizure activity (but no seizures) off and on, and some weakness in my legs and forearms. this is just caused by stress from school, so i think it'll go away fairly soon as school stress is being worked on with my counselor.

for tourette's, it's been the same as always i guess. i haven't had a tic attack since i've gotten back from the hospital, so that's good. still working on not suppressing so much, though.

the only big thing has been suspected PANS. i won't explain what it is here, but google is a great thing. it's not for sure that i have it, but it's something we want me to be tested for. i think i would still have tourette syndrome along with the PANS, because i've had small littel tics my whole life and my dad has some suspected tics too.

mental health

well shit. here we go. (TW, i would say what it's for but idk how to describe it sorry)

my mental health had been doing pretty good, and then suddenly one night i had some sort of episode and ended up in the psych ward. when i got back i was depressed, but not nearly as depressed as i have been before, so it wasn't too bad. and then a stupid algebra test ruined it all. i had missed at least 4 lessons in algebra while i was out of school, and i had a test almost the day i got back. my teacher let me put it off for a bit so i could study, but i was so stressed i couldn't study without having some sort of mental health episode. these episodes could range from inconsolable sobbing and nearly being suicidal and being convinced that i hate everything, to paranoia and partial delusions, if that's even possible. on the day of the test, i had an episode and actually walked off campus, down the road, to a convenience store. i don't know why, i just did. i wasn't fully aware of what was going on around me at the time so i'm not sure exactly what happened. i'm safe now, i haven't had an episode since i did the test.

these episodes are part of the reason we're suspecting PANS, because there's just not really a diagnosis other than BPD that makes sense. I already have a lot of other diagnoses that would match up with the symptoms of PANS, and with the added BPD-like symptoms, we're just really suspecting it.

i'm doing better now, still upset, but better.

so, yeah, that's how my health has been recently. i feel like i overshared a bit on the mental health side, but i like to be mostly open and honest about things a lot of the time.

#tourette syndrome #tourettes #tics #cw tics #pans/pandas #pandas/pans #pans syndrome #sky's pans journey

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mistaeq · 5 years ago

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Hol Horse: Not so Terrible

TW // killing is mentioned

I can't possibly know you're sad without doing something, @golden-narcissus :( this is the in-character interaction you had with Hol Horse on my blog, but rewritten into a smol fic and with a cute ending added !!

Where Hol Horse starts to realize his partner in crime is better than he thought.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

"Hey... did you really mean everything you said, Hol Horse... about me?" The man looked at you, his eyes had never been more serious and you could tell. He had opened, told you he felt good around you and comfortable with you being the one he was teamed up with by Lord DIO. A pretty good sensation for you, really.

"Are you asking because I teamed up with a lot of different people?" he slightly smiled. You probably thought he told this shit to every person he met, or maybe tell white lies to every person he would have needed in the future. "I mean everything I said about you. Every single one." he paused for a second. "I know I care about being the said second one in a couple, because I admit I'm... not that courageous. But you never made me... you know, feel weak for it." Hol Horse lifted up his gaze towards you, an almost ashamed look in his eyes. Unusual. So unusual. "Listen, I know I flirt a lot and I tell many lies just because I would need to be helped in the future. But I'm not lying with you." The way his hands were figdeting with each other and his leg was bouncing told you he was being honest.

But at those words, you shook your head. "No, it... that's not it. I just haven't been told anything like that before." you swallowed, remembering your not so relaxing past. "I've come from so far away in order to serve Lord Dio... I am just glad someone appreciates my work like you do." your eyes ran over his hands, up his muscular - probably warm in hugs - arms and finally in his own gaze. "You're very strong, Hol Horse, and your stand is quite powerful... I am honored that you accepted to work with a weak stand like mine..." you rambled, biting your lip when you realized you probably had started talking too much again, forgetting your main task. "Shit... sorry, I'm just going on... we should be focusing on beating the Joestars."

But if you're pleasantly surprised by his kind words, well, Hol Horse was pleasantly shocked by yours, as well. The cowboy was literally speechless "Me? Very strong and... powerful?? Well... a lot of cute girls I lied to on my road told me so, not knowing me well. I didn't really care about them." he confessed, maybe implying he cared more about your opinion? You thought. "But hearing it from someone I work with... makes me feel respected and stuff... I don't want you to be my second, though. In our team we'll be right on the same level for me, if you're fine with it, of course." he rested his arm around your shoulders, as if it was the most natural thing to do. And you couldn't tell if he was trying to purposely flirt or if he was just like that. You liked him anyway. "Come here." He invited. "We can relax a bit. The Joestars can't be everywhere, and we know they're not here right now. Some fellow stand user like us is probably taking good care of them." he genuinely chuckles, his free hand on his mouth.

Your heart soared to the Moon at his words, and you smiled like an idiot when he draped a strong arm over your smaller - compared to his - shoulders. "Yeah, you're right... maybe this time will be different, and we won't have to kill anyone?" you asked, honestly waiting and hoping for an affirmative response. "I'll confess... I don't do well under pressure... or around a ton of blood..." you looked up at him, with a slight tilt of your head, as if you were about to ask a question. You actually did. "So.. your stand, Emperor, shoots... so if the circumstances aren't in our favour... I distract them and you kill them? This is it?" He nodded in response.

"Yes... this might be it, if we manage to create a good plan." the hand of his resting on your shoulder - because of his arm around you - suddenly started caressing your shoulder with its thumb. That small touch was so adorable and loving. So unusual, from Hol Horse. "Can I ask you how did someone so pure and sweet like you end up in Lord DIO's hands? If you feel okay with telling me about it, I mean." the cowboy asked, as his brown, curious eyes met yours.

At his question, you suddenly remembered things and feelings that made you need warmth. You leaned into Hol Horse's touch, feeling safe enough with him to do so. Your eyes drifted from his after he exposed his curiosity, and you let out a sigh. "The life I was born into just wasn't something for me..." you started in a low, serious voice. "I got picked on as a child for just about anything i did. I wanted to begin a new life in Egypt... and i met our Lord DIO..." you smiled, just a little. It brought you into terrible situation, but remembering the first time somebody had finally comprehended your messy mind always gave you a little happiness. "He understood my pain, and took me under his wing, introducing me to a group of people I learnt to call my friends..." your eyes darkened. "They are terrible people. I was too naive... you too saved me, Hol Horse." his jaw fell. His heart started beating faster, without a... true reason.

"I... you don't find me terrible, too?" Hol Horse istinctively held you even closer, like a reflex. You looked like you were comfortable with him, so he tried to freely give you his affection. You couldn't deny your heart skipped a beat, too. "I don't think I'm really admired, among our... fellow stand users in DIO's hands. But hey." a finger of his patted on your soft shoulder for you to look at him. "If you don't like them, you don't have to emotionally lean on them to be understood." the cowboy withdrew his arm from your shoulders, and started fidgeting with his hands, trying not to think to the blush that was probably gonna form on his cheeks. "What I mean is... if you need someone to listen to you... you don't need Lord DIO, or other people working for him. I am right here. I mean I do work for him too, but... I'm me. And you're you." he started to stumble on his own thoughts. "Oh, fuck it, I don't expect you to understand what I mean... I'm a mess." he gave up. But the sound of you chuckling brought him back.

"Of course I don't think you're terrible, Hol!" you immediately answered. "You have been very sweet ever since we met... and I genuinely thank you for that." you finally looked up at him when he prompted you with his thumb's sweet touch on your shoulder. "Hmm... thank you for supporting me..." you mumbled, your voice's volume a little lower. "You're one of the only people who have truly learnt to understand me, and i admire you very much, for this."

The cowboy immediately reacted to your confessions, stuttering but managing to pour his heart out properly. "Well, I... I admire you for being able to bear with my behavior, I'm not so easy to handle, and you've never made me feel wrong, I mean..." without a precise reason, it seemed like Hol Horse was nervous. His hands were shaking and sweating, and he took off his hat, totally revealing his fluffy blond hair. "Also... don't underestimate your stand, it can be really useful, plus... when it lets its cry out I find it so... cute." he admitted, now avoiding your gaze. Shy Hol Horse? Not a common thing. You must have been really special. But you had noticed it, and took advantage of it when you leaned towards him and sweetly kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Hol. This really means a lot to me." you smiled, probably furiously blushing as much as him, just before standing up and grabbing his hand, to pull him towards his horse. "Do we get to have a little fun and go around with your baby here, in the meantime? I see no scary Joestars, around." you giggled, exaggerating the scary in a mocking - towards DIO - tone. Hol Horse laughed too, suddenly picking you up and sitting you on the saddle.

"Every wish of yours is an order, your sweet majesty." he giggled, finally sitting right in front of you. Then, the cowboy whispered. "You better hold onto me, this is gonna be wild." Hol Horse kicked with his heel, the horse rearing up before starting to gallop. "Yee-haw!" he screamed, making you giggle and gasp a little when you held onto his torso when the horse reared up. And so you went, on your own bizarre adventure. Was there love? Yes.

Just give them time.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part three #stardust crusaders #hol horse #hol horse x reader #jojo oneshot #jojo fic

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bijackkellys · 5 years ago

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thunderstruck ; part three

safe haven.

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Word Count: 4,352 Dedications: a huge huge shoutout to my beta and gf @mistyw273 without whom this fic would not exist! tag list (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @dimenovelcowboy @santa-fe-maniac @pulitzers-world @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway @verified-dumbass @jewishdavidjacobs @agentsnickers @thetruthabouttheboy @the-games-changing Author’s Note: yes i know what i said and i'm aware that it's been WEEKS since i posted and i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. except that i'm the worst. and also that i'm going to stop making promises and tell you guys straight out that i'm probably not going to be any better at updating from this point forward, especially considering i'm working on college apps and sat prep right now. but it's fine! i hope the fact that this chapter is only like 10 words less than all the other chapters so far put together sort of makes up for it? but i kind of hate this part; i have a ton of exposition to get through so i'm really really sorry if it sucks and you've waited this long for like 4.3k of bullshit. i'm also sorry that i still haven't introduced kath—she will get here in the next chapter and she will play no small role in this fic, i promise!! we've just got a lot to get through leading up to that. anyway, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far, and if you're still here despite my questionable reliability (or lack thereof) i love you, personally. tws for this chapter includes a minor panic attack, mentions of vomiting but it's pretty brief, and that's about it.

read it on ao3

MEDDA IS SINGING when they get to her apartment.

Even through the closed door, Jack can hear her voice lilting down the corridor, a bittersweet melody that he can’t quite remember but loves all the same. It makes him falter, makes his throat close up as warmth and the ache of missing her spread through his chest in time with each other. He doesn’t know what she’ll say when she sees him, and the thought of her viewing him as a killer nearly makes his knees buckle. Distantly he thinks that it doesn’t matter what the world has been told as long as she believes him.

“Is this it?” the older boy says behind him, gesturing to the door that Jack is staring at. He’d mostly been quiet the whole walk here, but now he’s looking at Jack expectantly.

Jack nods and pushes back the tide of emotions swelling in his chest. If he waits any longer he might never be able to do this. He knocks twice on the door, and her singing cuts off abruptly; he hears her voice saying “Coming!” and then the lock clicking as the door swings open.

“Hi, Miss Medda,” Jack says hoarsely.

She stares at him. For this brief, terrible moment, he thinks she’s going to turn him away, and then she’s crying and oh, she pulls him into a hug. Something he’s been trying to hold back since he found himself running in the streets hours ago spills forth. In her arms he can’t stop the tears; he feels suddenly twelve years old again, scared and small but not alone, not anymore.

“You’re alive,” she’s saying, over and over, like a mantra. “Oh, baby, you’re really here.”

Jack clings to her tightly. “I didn’t do it,” he breathes, desperate for her to know as she runs a hand through his hair. “The fire—that wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t believe them for one second.” Medda pulls him back at arm’s length. “But where have you been?”

He winces, looks away. “The Refuge. I just escaped.” Her mouth opens again but he shakes his head slightly and she nods, understanding immediately.

“It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll talk later,” she says, and cups his cheek with a gentle hand. He leans into it, starved of positive contact like this for so long. “Jack Kelly,” she says warmly, her eyes shining—he’s gotten so used to hearing his name spit at him like a curse—“I thought I’d never see you again.” She huffs a laugh and smiles at him, wiping at his eyes with her thumb. “Don’t you ever disappear on me like that again, you understand?”

He gives a watery chuckle, maybe his first in months. “I’ll do my best, Miss Medda.”

She pulls him into another hug, squeezing his shoulders tightly, before her eyes come to rest on the two boys still standing awkwardly in the hallway. “And who are your new friends?” she asks.

“Oh, this is—” Jack breaks off, realizing abruptly that they had never gotten to introductions. The younger of the two steps forward and puffs his chest out.

“I’m Les, and this is my brother, David,” he says brightly. He’s been solemn since Jack met him, no doubt jarred by his experience with the Snatchers, but Medda’s warmth is notoriously infectious. Even the kid’s older brother—Davey—cracks a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says politely, and Medda beams and waves a hand.

“None of that. It’s Miss Medda to you, darling. Come on in,” She steps out of the doorway and gestures inside, placing a gentle hand on the small of Jack’s back as she ushers him in. He’s grateful for it, a grounding presence that reminds him he’s really here in front of her. “Stay as long as you like, boys.”

In the last few hours alone, Jack has felt like he’s been thrust into an entirely different world. Entering Medda’s apartment is a burst of shining familiarity; there’s the elegant wooden piano in the corner, the blooming plants lining the windowsills, the photos of the theater and the paintings Jack has done over the years hanging on the walls. The faint smell of cinnamon in the air. He may never have lived here, but it feels like coming home all the same.

“I’ve still got the clothes you’ve left here, if you want to change,” Medda tells him. “I’ll get something going for us to eat—how does Sancocho sound? I don’t have any plantains, and now I know it’s not quite the same without them—”

“That sounds incredible, Miss Medda,” Jack says, his mouth already watering. For as long as he’s known her, Medda has always made it a point to give him and the other boys a taste of home however she can manage. She’d tested recipes for Sancocho for months until she’d perfected the warm, rich stew that always drew up distant memories of Jack’s mother.

Medda smiles at him and bustles into the kitchen, pulling vegetables from the fridge. “David, Les, is there anything you two don’t eat?” she calls to them.

“Oh, we keep Kosher, so no pork, shellfish, or meat and dairy together? And Les can’t have peanuts. Sorry,” Davey responds quickly.

“No worries, darling, this recipe doesn’t call for any of that anyway. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours—Jack, why don’t you go clean up and get some rest? You look exhausted, baby.”

It’s one of those things he doesn’t fully realize until she points out, and then it hits him full-force; he thinks his legs will give with the impact of it. He’s tired and starved and wants absolutely nothing more than to take a hot shower and eat and sleep through the next day—and in truth the only thing holding him back is the still-stinging bite of the cuffs around his wrists.

“Uh, Miss Medda—you got a screwdriver somewhere around here?” he asks tentatively, rubbing at the skin underneath them.

Her gaze drifts to his hands and she winces in sympathy. “In the office down the hall. There’s a toolkit on the shelf—you need some help, Jack?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it,” he says as he heads into the room.

It turns out to be harder than he expected. He spends a good ten minutes hacking at the cuffs with a screwdriver, but all he really succeeds in doing is scraping his wrists raw. He’s getting desperate, though—the longer he’s stripped of his powers, the less he feels like himself, and the silver steel is nothing but a jolting reminder of everything that’s happened. He needs to find a way to get these stupid things off.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve got it.”

Jack’s head snaps up to see Davey standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. His expression is hard to read, half-concerned but laced with something else, and he’s sort of tentative as he steps into the room and kneels down beside Jack. “Here, let me.” He holds his hand out for the screwdriver.

Jack gives it to him and splays his hands out in between them. Davey switches out the head of the tool for a tiny flathead and gets to work on the right cuff, astonishingly careful. His slender, practiced fingers pry open a tiny panel on the side of the cuff, exposing the circuit board underneath.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Jack notes.

Davey pauses his movement for a split second and then continues without looking up. “I was captain of my high school robotics team for two years,” he responds. “And I’m an engineering major.”

Jack clings to this small piece of information; it’s the first thing he’s learned about Davey since they met, and he’s already desperate for more. “Where do you go?” he asks. At this, Davey tenses up, and Jack bites back a wince. “I’m not trying to interrogate you,” he says flatly, after a moment. “Guess I just...thought you’d changed your mind about me.”

Davey’s dark eyes latch on to Jack’s for just a moment before darting away. “I don’t know yet,” he answers finally. He prods at the wires of the cuff; there’s this crinkle in his brow that Jack can’t help but think is sort of endearing. “Miss Medda seems like a really good person,” he continues, still barely looking at Jack. “And she clearly loves you a lot. It’s possible you could be lying to her, too, but the way you were when you saw her—no one’s that good of an actor.”

“So what’s your holdup?”

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Davey twists the screwdriver and bites his lip, then meets Jack’s gaze at last. “After you—after the hospital burned down, the whole city was in chaos. No one knew what to think or who to blame—the police revealed that the sprinkler line had been damaged, and that some of the exits had been sealed, and that the fire started because the power box had been tampered with.”

Jack’s stomach twists. “I don’t understand...you—you’re saying it wasn’t an accident?”

“I think if it had been, it would’ve been contained a lot faster,” Davey says darkly. “It hadn’t even been a week before The World published a full story about how it was Strike’s doing. Jack, there were witness statements, sources explaining how your powers could’ve caused this—”

“I was trying to save people,”

“A lot of people thought you had done it by accident. Or that you’d...snapped, or something.”

“I nearly died in that fire.” He isn’t entirely sure he hadn’t, to be honest. Everything since then is blurry and out of place, and he feels like he’s been set right back to grappling desperately for a handhold, like he’s in the center of an inferno all over again—

There’s a click of metal on metal and the cuff on his right hand clatters to the floor.

“Got it,” Davey says, and suddenly Jack can breathe again. Even with the cuff still circling his left hand, he feels electricity surge through him, that familiar hum of lightning beneath his skin. A part of him he hasn’t felt in so, so long.

Sparks dance over his fingertips, and the air fills with static. He can see the hairs on Davey’s arms standing on end and despite everything, fights the urge to laugh. Davey looks at him, eyes wide with amazement, and Jack wonders if he can taste the power in the air, too.

“Thanks,” Jack says, breathless as he runs his hand over the torn skin of his wrist.

Davey nods and gently takes his left hand, starting the process again and evidently more sure of what he’s doing now. “Jack,” he begins, but whatever he’s going to say next, Jack doesn’t let him finish.

“Someone set me up,” he says fiercely, trying hard not to sound as desperate for Davey to believe him as he really is. “Whatever evidence and witnesses they had—it was fake.”

“Okay, but why?” Davey presses. “Why go through all this trouble to frame a dead man? How did they get The World to publish a bunch of false information? And if someone really is trying to pin this on you,” there’s a click, and the cuff around Jack’s left hand pings against the ground, “who set the fire in the first place?”

Jack can’t remember the last time he’d had a hot shower. Even before the fire—and god, Jack is really about to start categorizing his life events as before and after his death, like that’s not absolutely insane—the lodging house never really had a surplus of hot water, especially with so many of them. Standing under it now, though, everything else melts into the background. There are scars and bruises along his skin that he hadn’t even noted before, but the water is like instant relief; he doesn’t have to think, just lets it wash him clean.

By the time he gets out, the effects of the drugs, which have been weaning away for hours now, seem completely gone. Everything is sharper, like he’s been thrusted into high-definition, his thoughts clearer and his memories—well, his memories becoming more painful by the second.

It’s not easy, trying to push it all back. As he pulls on fresh clothes, Jack stares at himself in the mirror, at the jagged scars raised against his chest and the tiny spots that pockmark his forearms where he remembers needles going in, and tries to reconcile this picture of himself—exhausted and hollowed out and afraid—with the identity he’d spent so long building up from the ground. He doesn’t look like Strike, New York City’s favorite vigilante. He looks like a scared kid.

He doesn’t know what to do. Something bigger than himself is brewing in the city, he knows it, he has to stop it. But he doesn’t know how. People are counting on him and Jack just wants to forget any of this ever happened.

There’s so much noise. Davey’s questions are ringing in his ears and behind them there are voices telling him he’s never, ever going to get out, and he thinks he might be on fire. Everything is too hot and too loud and hurts.

There’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, but he dry heaves over the toilet anyway.

Jack sits back on the cold tile floor and drags his knees up to his chest. He could just go—break out the money he’s been saving and skip town, hop on a bus all the way to Santa Fe. Crutchie could come with him, and he could change his name—again—and start fresh. Never see this place again.

Except there’s an arsonist on the loose in the city. There are Snatchers all over the streets, and maybe Jack wants nothing more than to leave it but New York is still his city, still his place to protect. He can’t just leave.

Jack tilts his head towards the ceiling, biting back the urge to scream. The unsteady silence is broken by a tentative knock at the door, and then Medda’s voice—“Jack, honey,” she says, “Dinner’s ready. You okay in there?”

Slowly, he picks himself off the floor, pulls the loose hoodie hanging on the door on over his clean t-shirt, takes a shuddering breath. “I’ll be right out,” he calls through the door, and glances at his reflection one more time. He can be Strike again. He can do this.

And even if he can’t, he has to.

The Sancocho is perfect, warm and spicy and brimming with the taste of home. By the time he’s inhaled maybe three servings and helped clear the dishes, Jack is so exhausted that he doesn’t even make it to the guest room. He just stumbles towards the couch and collapses there with the sunlight still spilling in through the windows, falling hard and fast into a heavy sleep.

It’s dark when he bolts awake. He feels hot and breathless, his heart racing against his ribcage, and whatever awful memory had invaded his dreams left the sharp taste of metal in his mouth. Sparks flicker across his fingers, blinding blue-white in the darkness, and Jack curls his hands into fists to quell the lightning brimming in his veins. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall; it’s just past one in the morning. He doesn’t think he’ll get back to sleep any time soon.

He maneuvers around the coffee table to stumble blindly towards the kitchen instead. A dim glow catches his eye, then; Davey is sitting at the bar stools, hunched over his laptop.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jack says, and Davey starts and then swears.

“Jeez, you gave me a heart attack,” he huffs as Jack chuckles lightly and fills a glass with water. “I thought you were still asleep. And...no. You?”

Jack shrugs. “I slept okay, got a few good hours. But I don’t think I can go back to bed. What are you doing?” he asks, nodding towards the open laptop.

Davey hesitates. “Miss Medda let me borrow her computer. I’m trying to contact the rest of my family,” he replies, his gaze flitting between the screen and Jack’s eyes. “When Les and I ran off there were already Snatchers at our house. None of them have powers, though. Just Les.” He works his lip between his teeth. “They said not to contact them in case the Snatchers found some way to trace it back to us, but I set up a separate email account and sent them a vague message, hoping they’ll know it’s me. I just need to know if they’re okay.”

Jack’s chest twists in sympathy. Davey’s family is just one more example of all the lives the Snatchers have torn apart—and Jack is the poster boy for their whole agenda. He has to fix this, for Davey, and for the rest of his city. “You’ll see them again soon, Davey,” he says—yet another promise he can’t afford to break—“I’m gonna make this right, okay?”

“How?” Davey scoffs. “You don’t even know where to start.”

Jack slips his hands into the pockets of his clean hoodie and feels the familiar weight of the flash drive he’d placed there. Actually, he might have some idea. “Can I use the computer?” Jack says, barely waiting for Davey’s nod before taking a seat on the barstool beside him and plugging the flash drive in.

“What is that?” Davey’s brow furrows.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I took this from a computer in the Refuge’s control room, hoping I’d find something important. Maybe something here could give us a clue of what’s really going on.” There’s only a handful of files on the drive, and they’re labeled with numbers instead of actual names. Jack opens the first one and feels his heart sink. “Shit. It’s encrypted.”

“Let me try,” Davey says, pulling the laptop towards him and typing furiously. The computer makes a few error noises in protest as he works through the code, but Davey is laser-focused, seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He’s some kind of genius. “Got it,” he announces after a few minutes. Sure enough, the screen flickers, and rows of text begin to replace the numbers and symbols from before.

“That was incredible,” Jack tells him.

Davey shrugs and ducks his head, smiling just a little before turning back to the screen. “They look like email exchanges. Between some guy named Snyder—” Jack feels a cold trickle of shock run through him at that name, “—and...Joseph Pulitzer.”

“Wait, Pulitzer?” Jack leans forward to read over Davey’s shoulder. “As in the CEO of The World?”

“He’s running for mayor in next month’s election,” Davey explains. “It looks like he’s trying to get Snyder’s support? He’s promising money to fund the Refuge. But why would—shit.” There’s something dawning on his expression as he looks up at Jack, eyes blown wide. “Jack, a lot of his campaign has relied on anti-super propaganda. And...The World was the one who first published the story about you setting the fire.”

The realization crashes into him, hard and fast. “He’s the one who framed me.” Jack feels a hot rush of anger surge through him. “For what, a political platform? So that he could give the people a common enemy? Holy shit, did he set that fire for this...twisted agenda?”

“I can’t believe this,” Davey shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and tugging his hands through his dark hair, shell-shocked. “How could he do something like this?”

How could he?

“I’m going to kill him,” Jack says fiercely, and the lights above him flicker. He stands up, feeling wild, brimming with untamed fury—innocent people died for Pulitzer’s insane power grab, and he has to pay for that. He can’t get away with this, he won’t; Jack can’t find it in himself to mitigate his anger right now, he needs to find Pulitzer and fix this.

“Jack—Jack!” Davey’s hand latches around his wrist and a shock like static electricity bursts between them, making him pull back. “Wait. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“What, you just want me to let him walk? He killed people, Davey. Innocent people.”

“You don’t actually know that yet.”

“I know enough,” Jack snaps, pulling back. “This can’t all be a coincidence, it makes too much sense. He has to be behind this, behind everything.”

“I’m not arguing that.” Davey is astonishingly calm; Jack doesn’t know how he can keep his resolve right now, after finding out something this sick. “But what are you going to do, break into his house and murder him? What is that going to solve? Things are only gonna get worse for supers.”

Jack hesitates. Davey is right—a personal attack on one of the most influential people in New York would make him even more of a villain than he already is. And every super in the city would suffer from it. He can’t make this some sort of revenge plot; he has to be smart about it. He takes a shuddering breath. “Then I’ll expose him. These emails—”

“—aren’t enough. All you have from this is a theory. Pulitzer would just find a way to spin it, make you look like the bad guy here. Again.” He shakes his head. “He holds all the cards right now. We have to find hard, indisputable evidence. What we need is a way to get close to him.”

“We?” Out of everything, that’s the word Jack gets hung up on. Davey’s making it sound as though they’re partners.

Davey looks at him for a second. “I believe you, Jack,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. I don’t think you set that fire, and if we’re right, and Pulitzer did frame you, and we can find proof...we might be able to stop everything. Shut down the Refuge for good.”

“No, no—I’m not dragging you into this any further than I already have,” Jack stops him before he can go any further. His whole time as Strike, he’s been a solo act for a reason—not for lack of Race or Specs or Elmer trying to get him to let them join him—but because he can’t bring himself to pull someone else into this life. Especially not someone like Davey, who’s an engineering student, and a genius, and has a family. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me so far, I really do, but I can take it from here. You and your brother just lay low and stay out of trouble.”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” Davey argues. There’s something hardening behind his eyes, something bright and sharp and determined. “I’ve already shown you what I can do, so let me help you.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

He snorts, defensive. “I can handle it.”

“You think so?” Jack stares him down, skin buzzing. “I almost died because of this, and I may not remember everything about the Refuge, but I can tell you that it wasn’t pretty. If we try to take Pulitzer, there’s a good chance we don’t make it out alive.”

Davey doesn’t break his gaze. “But if we do it together, we double our odds,” he says quietly. When Jack snorts and turns away, Davey keeps going. “This is so much bigger than you or me, Jack. If we can pull this off, we could make New York safe for supers again. I promised that I would protect Les, but I can’t do that as long as there are Snatchers roaming the streets and as long as Pulitzer has power. And you can’t protect this city if you’re dead.”

Jack wishes he didn’t have a point. “You could get hurt,” he counters. “You don’t even have powers.”

“You’ll protect me,” Davey replies swiftly, and something in Jack’s stomach twists.

“You have an awful lot of faith for someone who didn’t trust me an hour ago,” he says grimly, eyes darting away from Davey’s fierce ones.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Davey presses, unrelenting, and god, the offer is tempting. Davey clearly knows his way around his computers and technology, a skill that could be really helpful here, and more than that, Jack stupidly, selfishly doesn’t want to do this by himself. He wants a partner. He’s tired of being alone, and he hates himself for it.

“We do this on my terms,” Jack says finally, and in the corner of his eye, he can see Davey smiling. “I say get out, you get out. You’ve got to be smart about this. Got it?”

“Understood,” Davey nods. “I’ll be okay, Jack. I promise. So where do we start?”

“It’s like you said, we have to get close to Pulitzer.” Jack sits back down, racks his brain for anything that could help. Pulitzer is a private person, watching the rest of the city from high off the ground; getting close to him would require someone who already knows him well. He can practically see the lightbulb over his head when it hits him—he knows the perfect candidate. He just hopes she’ll be willing to join them.

“I know someone who might be able to help,” Jack says, already drafting an email—coded words like the two of them used to use when he was just starting out as Strike. “She interned as Pulitzer’s personal assistant for a while when she was in high school, but the last time I saw her she was a journalism student, working for The Sun. She may not work for him anymore, but she knew Pulitzer as well as anyone.” Jack takes a deep breath and pleads silently that she’ll believe him, then sends the message.

“And you think she’ll know what to do?” Davey asks.

“I’m sure of it.” Jack has always had faith in her; he knows she’ll come through, will fight for what she believes in. “If cards are what we’re playing,” he tells Davey, suddenly brimming with a newfound sense of determination, “then Katherine Plumber is our ace.”

#THUNDERSTRUCK #newsies #writing #my writing #umanawrites #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #david jacobs #javid #jathvey #ot3: watch what happens #newsies the musical

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