#if there is no other way to operate your business that does not screw over everyone else you should maybe rethink your plans

[femkethefaineant]

Yeah these research suggestions are strange. Neither copyright legislation nor the effectiveness or existence of personal actions against data scraping has any bearing on whether the thing itself is theft or not, only on how much work is put into the theft. If I don't lock my bike I might be partly responsible for it being stolen, but it's still theft. If I do lock it, you can take it with the lock or you can destroy the lock; both are still theft. If a hundred people walk by before someone takes my bike, it's still theft. If there is a law protecting the thief but not me, still theft. If the thief is a small company with the best of intentions, still theft.

And the fact that the datasets aren't stored doesn't exempt them from theft, it only means the evidence is destroyed. If a thief takes my bike, uses one wheel for something else and destroys the rest, it's still theft.

Here are some research and/or thought suggestions that I based my opinion on:

- Look up AI companies' responses to 'data poisoning'. Whose responsibility is consent? If you post a picture online, is it your responsibility to use a watermark or everyone else's to credit you properly? What if someone removes your watermark? If you don't use a watermark, you don't explicitly say no, is that consent? What does that mean for nightshade/glaze and the companies that try to circumvent them? What about recommendations to remove poisoned data, do they give moral or practical reasons to do so? What does that say about the value they place on your consent?

- What do you consider immoral theft (of intellectual property)? Must something be removed from someone, or just used without their permission? What about plagiarism? What about potential gains from it? Can artistic recognition, satisfaction or achievement be stolen?

- What do you consider art? Does there need to be a creative process, must there be a human involved and in what way? Must art always be new or original or meaningful? Can someone be mistaken about something being art? What distinguishes art from non-art?

- Look up the Chinese room thought experiment. Look up what words actually are (fair warning, there is no clear consensus). Are they only the word itself, or do they have a meaning beyond semantics? What does this say about language, and about entities who only interact with one aspect of it? Can a language predictor grasp meaning?

-What is the actual meaning of 'AI'? Are current machine learning models really intelligence? What kind of models are used to 'make art'? Does that really produce art?

- Are there any ways you can think of in which a computer could make valid art without theft? What must change about the current system to reach that? Are there ways to do so in a morally sound way?

For the purposes of this poll, research is defined as reading multiple non-opinion articles from different credible sources, a class on the matter, etc.– do not include reading social media or pure opinion pieces.

Fun topics to research:

Can AI images be copyrighted in your country? If yes, what criteria does it need to meet?

Which companies are using AI in your country? In what kinds of projects? How big are the companies?

What is considered fair use of copyrighted images in your country? What is considered a transformative work? (Important for fandom blogs!)

What legislation is being proposed to ‘combat AI’ in your country? Who does it benefit? How does it affect non-AI art, if at all?

How much data do generators store? Divide by the number of images in the data set. How much information is each image, proportionally? How many pixels is that?

What ways are there to remove yourself from AI datasets if you want to opt out? Which of these are effective (ie, are there workarounds in AI communities to circumvent dataset poisoning, are the test sample sizes realistic, which generators allow opting out or respect the no-ai tag, etc)

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[notfinancialadvice]

How I Built an Emergency Fund, inspiration I deeply hope is helpful

As the blog URL says, this is not financial advice. This is how I did this thing, and I am posting it here, publicly, in hopes that it helps you should you need this information.

In short: Remix this advice to what fits your life + do not sue me if this goes poorly for you. This is for Americans, if you do not live in America and/or your money is not in America, I hope this is a useful base.

None of these links are affiliate links.

I write these things as a mental shift. I like to ramble and I wish I had someone tell me this stuff 20+ years ago. I'm hoping this helps you.

This is an incredibly long post so I'm putting it under a KEEP READING.

This post goes over two stages: "short term + not life-or-death" and "long term + actual life or death"

Part 01: SHORT TERM + NOT LIFE-OR-DEATH FUND

You need to find a high yield savings account that is FDIC insured. Ally is a popular bank for this.

Functionally, the only difference between a "high yield savings account" and "savings account" from the giant conglomerate bank down the street is the interest rate.

I do not know why non-high-yield savings accounts exist. I'm guessing because legally they can, and I hate it.

Moving away from my personal socioeconomic views to return to advice.

"FDIC insured" is not something you pay for. It is nearly universal on savings accounts. If a savings account, or a checking account, does NOT have it, then you should not put your money there. Something is wrong with that bank.

FDIC means if your bank goes out of business, your account is insured up to $250,000, per account, by the government. So if your bank goes out of business, the government makes sure you still have your cash (up to $250k).

A high-yield savings account means your cash is available whenever you need it.

Other products, like CDs, exist, but this ramble is designed to be as simple and starter as possible. Begin with a high yield savings account, build up from there as you do your own research + compare this to your needs.

Do not accept an account that has minimum balances. Do not open an account with monthly fees.

Touch this account as little as possible.

For every $1 you put in, every month, a few pennies will materialize. It's not much, but the main point is at every level, your money works for you.

Rich people do this. You can too.

Touch this account as little as possible.

You can have multiple savings accounts.

I personally have a savings account in the above structure designed for "oh hell I am kinda screwed, but will be okay, just need a buffer."

"How much should I have in there?" you might ask. Common advice says "3-6 months expenses" which is a lot. I say "start with literally $1 and continue as you can until comfortable with what is possible, for you, at this time."

Will $1 make you rich? No.

Will it save your life in a bad situation? Probably not.

Does this $1 essentially become a tiny robot that is making you money for as long as it is docked into its cargo bay? ...weird metaphor but we'll go with it, sure.

Ultimately is it a start? Yes.

You can have multiple savings accounts. You can have a savings account "this is for short term emergencies" and "this is for... slightly less short term" etc.

It costs you nothing to have multiple. They all operate in the same way. It's handy to have them all at the same bank because it can make transferring cash easier.

Part 02: LONG TERM + ACTUAL LIFE-OR-DEATH FUND WITH RISK SO BE CAREFUL

Once you have your savings account set up, and it's being funded on a regular basis (every week, every paycheck, every month, every quarter -- whatever works for you), look into creating a second, bigger, more dangerous-term cash reserve.

I like my Roth IRA. This is a link to a proper finance blog that has a lot of details. I am trying to make this handy/simple to get started.

401ks and (non-Roth) IRAs are funded with pre-tax dollars, frequently in conjunction with your job.

Normally, cash goes from job -> government takes a slice -> you.

Pre-tax retirement accounts, cash goes from job -> retirement takes the percentage you decide -> government takes a slice of what is left -> you

Roth IRAs, job -> government takes a slice -> you -> Roth IRA

The benefit to pre-tax retirement accounts being, because the cash going in is pre-tax, there is more of it.

It can grow faster in the stock market or other places your particular fund allows you to put cash into.

The taxes come out when you withdraw -- usually retirement -- because if you withdraw before you retire, you are heavily penalized with extra fees.

That's why Part 02 is a ROTH IRA. Your money has already been taxed -- job -> government's slice -> you -> Roth IRA.

This means the money is yours, already taxed. If you withdraw the gains, those get taxed, but the base, that's yours.

If you invest $100 and it grows to $105, you can withdraw $100 without paying fees or taxes. If you withdraw that extra $5, that is when taxes start to come into play. If you withdraw $100, and leave the $5, the $5 continues to grow, and that extra growth is taxed if withdrawn. So try not to touch it (ideally you leave all of it until retirement).

This is why this is an emergency, life-or-death only, account. You tap it only when you need to when all other choices are wretched and ruinous.

There is an annual limit as to how much money you can put into a Roth IRA (several thousand bucks).

You can start them very small. Like $20 or maybe less.

Look for a bank or institution that does not charge fees to open and maintain one.

AT EVERY STEP YOU SHOULD BE AVOIDING FEES

Here are smart people talking about ideas on how to get started.

Okay, so, what do we do now with this fancy roth thing.

Here is where things get... uncomfortable.

A Roth IRA is an account type.

You need to do something with your money.

The reason you have this in addition to, and secondary to, your high-yield savings account is because this is an investment vehicle, the balance is going to go up and down, and may reach $0.00.

For my Roth IRA, I like "exchange traded funds" -- ETFs.

There are a lot of options -- you can invest in most anything

Because my Roth IRA is built for "help me I'm dying" emergencies, I invest in a mix of S&P 500 index funds and small-cap funds.

SO MANY WORDS.

Let's break this down what this means.

S&P 500 index funds: This is an index fund of giant, giant, giant companies.

An index fund is like a stock. But instead of a single company, it tracks (owns shares of) an index -- like the DOW or Nasdaq. Or countries. Or... the entire market for oil. Etc.

The metaphor isn't completely accurate, but I like to think of it as "an index fund is a company that owns tiny bits of other companies."

Like, okay, say you have SlimeIndexFund and a share price is $40.

In this example, SlimeIndexFund owns $10 worth of "BardCo" and $10 of "ThiefCo" and $10 of "MermaidCo" and $10 of "EvilCo".

Let's say EvilCo does a lot of evil and is now worth $15, and MermaidCo does a lot of mermaid stuff and is now worth $15, and BardCo sings out of tune so is now worth $5. ThiefCo is oddly at the same $10 but we're scared so we're leaving ThiefCo to stay at $10.

A share in SlimeIndexFund is now worth $45. ($5 BardCo + $10 ThiefCo + $15 EvilCo + $15 MermaidCo)

This is diversification

Because I bought an index fund, instead of just buying BardCo, my risk is less.

Had I bought all MermaidCo, my return would be higher -- but this is a much bigger risk.

The entire purpose of this set up of a Roth IRA is TO MINIMIZE RISK.

Your Roth IRA should allow you to buy "fractional shares" and if it doesn't fuck that bank, go somewhere that does.

In the above example, SlimeIndexFund is $40/share and at that price you are getting the full benefit of 1 share.

Let's say you have $10.

You buy a fractional share of SlimeIndexFund for $10, which is 25% of 1 share.

So when SlimeIndexFund shares raise from $40 -> $45, your fractional share goes from $10 -> $12.50.

Not all funds and stock shares (etc) have fractional shares, most do.

It's a great way to start and build.

Small-cap funds: These operate in literally the same way. The difference is the companies are (in comparison) much smaller. They tend to be more nimble.

So I am diversifying between "here is a fund, it has a lot of large companies" and "here is a fund, it has a lot of small companies."

Let's say Big Office Building real estate goes down, but the sale of Small Company Making waffles goes up. This mixes together and I'm less in danger of losing money, or losing much money.

You can pick individual stocks.

The reason it is not recommended, by nearly everyone, is because the market has incredible tools and power over individual stocks.

By using any kind of fund that bundles things together, you are thereby automatically using these tools by proxy

It is critical to understand this is the stock market. Your account will go up and down. It may go down A LOT, like 25%, and take years to recover. Maybe it goes down 100% to literally $0.00.

That's why this is the LAST RESORT EMERGENCY FUND.

So why are we doing this.

This feels... wrong?

The potential for growth is significantly higher than a savings account. Adjusted for inflation, somewhere in between 6-7%.

At this rate, if you can leave your initial deposit alone for somewhere between 10 - 13 years, it has doubled.

This equation recalculates every time you make a deposit. So if you can deposit $20 every pay check, it has the potential to grow very quickly.

As above, this is the stock market, so it can also get wiped out.

But given the stock market has historically always recovered, though it may take several years, the risk is worth it to me + a lot of other people.

The reason this is built as a last-resort cash bucket is because of this risk. Before moving into this arena, you should have other cash buckets as a buffer.

Your RISK is it goes down. Which it will frequently.

Your REWARD is if it goes up. Which historically it has far more than it went down.

The PURPOSE of using funds as described above is so you don't have try to guess who the next Amazon is and wind up picking the next Pets.com (which went out of business, like, a long... long time ago).

The people making the funds figure out who is Amazon and who is Pets.com and work, day and night, to make your money grow and/or protect it when outside influences are hurting the market.

They are incredibly equipped to do this and their literal livelihood is on the line when they do it poorly.

Which is a polite way of saying, they are continuously incentivized above all else to work for the fund you're investing in.

The reason you're doing this in a Roth IRA specifically is you're hoping to keep as much of it intact, as possible, until you retire, at which point -- if you've followed fairly simple rules -- you withdraw the base and gains tax-free.

Whereas money in a normal stock account? Those gains are taxable every year.

"I have literally $20 I can save per pay check! Can I put in $15 into a high-yield savings account and $5 into a Roth IRA to get started?!"

Yes!

Also, congrats! You're diversifying already!

Your Roth IRA broker should allow you to invest a minimum of $1 at a time, and buy fractional shares. If they don't, don't sign up with them!

Lean heavily into your high-yield savings account until that is very comfortable and thick, then push money into the Roth IRA.

Your goal is to build a system that works for you -- both literally (money working for you) and emotionally ("this is comfortable")

"Should I pay off debt before proceeding? A lot of people say to pay off excess debt first."

This is up to you.

Most financial blogs etc. do say "focus on paying off debt first" -- it's good advice, your returns are risk-free and permanent, since the lower your debt is, the less you have to pay over time.

Interest -- working for you or against you -- is continuous and eternal.

Personally, I like to diversify everything, so I not-financial-advice ramble "do all three -- pay down debt, throw a little cash into a high-yield savings, throw a little cash into a Roth IRA"

The problem with "pay off debt first" is that it misses out any occasional giant gains the stock market makes (Roth IRA) and introduces the risk of "I have paid this credit card on time for 5 years, I'm short on change for 3 months due to a situation that gets resolved quickly, and now I have a late payment fee, and a higher interest rate."

Look at your life, finances, and potential future and make decisions!

And also:

Always be on the look out for deals with banks. Sign up bonuses, referral links from friends, etc. Think of it as a money sale.

If you are not comfortable with the idea of a Roth IRA hitting $0.00 potentially, do not do step 02. These are ideas, not directives.

All financial tools can be used for different purposes. All of them. Thus -- these are ideas, not directives.

I am listing a few examples of banks, funds, etc. These are not recommendations nor are they affiliate links. They are listed because I want to maximize your start on this path, but caution, in strongest possible terms, you must do your own research and figure out what makes sense for you.

There are a lot of nuances I am paving over for the sake of simplicity, which is why I am continually saying...

...c'mon say it with me...

...you must do your own research before continuing

Smart, free sites that cover this + a lot of other stuff:

NerdWallet

Bank Rate

One final note about Roth IRAs:

Robinhood currently is offering a 1% match on an IRA. Considering the strict limits of how much an IRA can intake per year, it's not much, but it doesn't cost you anything. Money on sale!

As a final note -- always feel comfortable asking people handling your money for help. They are working for you. Your money works FOR YOU.

If you are uncomfortable, leave, immediately, without concern.

At the retail level, there are hundreds of banks and financial institutions clamoring for your business. If someone makes you uncomfortable for not knowing something, or getting a term wrong, or asking "too many" questions -- go somewhere else.

It doesn't matter if your account is literally worth $20.

They are working for you.

This is a business transaction, and if they make you feel like your time isn't worth their business, I promise you there is someone else who will gladly take care of you.

I end with -- whenever someone is giving you financial advice, always ask why. It helps ensure they aren't scamming you, it's just a good business practice.

I like to ramble, it helps me mentally

I like to be useful, I want the world to be significantly more balanced in terms of who is doing okay

I like to write, this is all good practice for me in doing Various Other Things I do

I fucking hate predatory financial practices. I was gatekept out of financial literacy for decades and so every time I help someone else figure out how to set up their own life and protect themselves it is a giant "fuck you" to the systems and directly to the people who stood in my way.

[thecursedanon]

Masterlist + Requests

(Last updated: 10:45pm - 6/23/24)

Heeeeeellloooo everyone! Curse here, I thought I'd make a masterlist for my fics so they would be easier to find seeing how I plan to make many more fics In the future :3

ALSO! I have an AO3 account if it's easier to read my writing on there. I'm TheCursedAnon on ao3 as well :3

LETS JUST JUMP RIGHT INTO IT--

~REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN! :3~

I'm operating with 2 fic request slots for now so I can get a feel for them, I can't guarantee they'll be super long because as I've stated previously my muse is a fickle bitch. I'm also not sure how fast I'll be able to get them out because I'm working on my own original non t-word series right now, but I'll do my best! <3

My HC requests are also OPEN, there's no limit on hc's, request as many as you want. :3 also feel free to send me your hc ideas! I love reading them! <3

Guidelines for requests:

I don't write NSFW. I've got nothing against it, It's just not for me lmao.

I don't write other people's OC's. Listen... Y'all, I love OC's, I'll be the first to admit I have a whole like 20 page google doc of OC's from various different fandoms-- but something I've learned over the years is It's really hard to write someone else's OC well, with official characters there's enough content for me to consume to get a feel for them... OC's not so much. :( I'm sorry.

Also, as I'm consuming JJK content, I'm forming a mental list of characters I will not write for... So far there's only a few on the list;

Meimei - I feel like most people will get where I'm coming from with this one. I don't mind writing a few lines of dialogue for her If it's necessary to the plot, but I'm certainly not comfortable making her a lee! or ler!

Toji - Sorry. I actually can't stand this deadbeat father LOL.

Mahito - Seriously, screw this ahole for what he did in Shibuya, I like his design but that's literally IT 😭

I debated putting Kenjaku on the list... but I feel like there are certain scenarios I could make work with him... but just know I don't like him, and he's SORTA on my list lol... depends on the prompt Ig.

Request slot 1: Lee!Yuji, Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi & Todo. (Whoooo boy, Yuji gonna have a busy day XD)

Request slot 2: Empty

~Upcoming Fics~

Lee!Nanami + Ler!Haibara fic - (TW: Mentions of Abuse) Haibara is concerned about Nanami, he's acting really out of character and now he's isolating himself... Haibara makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what's bothering his best friend. (85%)

Lee!Yuji + Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi, Nobara & Todo ~RQ~ - It's Yuji's birthday, what better way to celebrate than by getting the snot tickled out of him by his friends? (Not started)

Amusement park shenanigans pt 3 - Gojo is now raining down hell on EVERYONE. Everyone be catching these wiggling fingers now. (Not started)

Name TBD - The beginning of an AU... :) (2%)

(I'm just now realizing how much comfort I write... LOL)

~Fanfic Masterlist~

1. Amusement Park Shenanigans (Lee!Nanami, Switch!Yuji, Ler!Gojo) - Summary: Gojo decides to take the students to the amusement park, and drags a very unwilling Nanami along with them... after trying to failing to convince Gojo to let him leave, and one too many grumpy remarks from Nanami, Gojo decides to do what Gojo does best... cause absolute chaos. Upload Date: 3/12/24

2. Amusement Park Aftermath (Lee!Gojo, Ler!Nanami, Ler!Megumi) - Summary: Did Gojo seriously think Nanami wasn't gonna get revenge for that little stunt he pulled the other day? Upload Date: 4/5/24

3. Rainy Day (Lee!Yuji, Ler!Nanami) - Summary: Yuji Is super down today, that and he's not been sleeping well due to the nightmares he's been having. His friends, concerned about him go to Nanami with their concerns, and the stoic teacher takes it upon himself to cheer Itadori up. Upload Date: 4/11/24. 🔮NEW🔮

[canichangemyblogname]

“Independent artists are part of the petite bourgeois” is probably one of the more awful takes I’ve seen on here in a while outside of the dumpster fire that is anything fandom-related. What is with y’all’s tendency to sort anyone who doesn’t sell their labor in the same exact way you do into bourgeois classes?

It’s like when people focus exclusively on surgeons and actors, two professions that sell their labor, when they talk of the revolution, as opposed to—oh, I dunno—the CEOs of hospitals or production networks. And I’m not talking about reasonable statements like, “this individual made an obscene amount of money for this when people in the same industry/profession are struggling to make ends meet, and we should instead be operating under the idea from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” No, I am exactly talking about y’all’s insistence of sorting people who sell their labor into the bourgeois class.

If an individual makes her “living” through buying and selling labor as opposed to selling her own labor, then she is part of the bourgeoisie. What distinguishes the haut bourgeoisie (the CEO of Disney) from the petite bourgeoisie (a local small business owner) is whether they work alongside the proletariat whose labor they buy and sell (“employ”) and whether they have access to the means of production (generally— the haut bourgeois do not work alongside the proletariat and the petite bourgeois do not have access to the means of production).

Given most “indie” artists do sell their labor for survival as opposed to employ the proletariat and then work alongside them or buy and sell the labor of others, they are part of the proletariat themselves. Just because these individuals sell their labor differently from you (via creative pursuits) does not negate the fact they sell their labor to survive.

Ultimately, that’s the stance most people are arguing with in your comments, even if they are also dick-riding copyright law. Talk instead about how copyright does not protect the independent artist’s sale of her labor as opposed to arguing that she doesn’t sell her labor for her livelihood at all. You’re not going to win that argument, and you now look like an asshole. Because—yeah—independent artists cannot eat or pay rent without the sale of their labor, yet many “indie” artists are still convinced copyright laws protect the sale of their labor when these laws more so protect the corporations—like streaming services or record labels—that screw them over (and thus prevent them from a livelihood— y’know… eating and paying rent).

Even the western proletariat thinks of herself as a temporarily embarrassed millionaire; it is not a state-of-mind exclusive to the bourgeois in western society. It is a pervasive notion; not merely the material class interests of the petite bourgeoisie.

[tealeavesandtrash]

✨WIP Wednesday✨

It's been a while since I've shared any of my WIPs, so here's the first part of the first draft from the Star Wars AU I started this weekend with Pod Racer!Sirius and mechanic/junk salvager!Remus. (Very Phantom Menace-inspired) I don't think this will end up as a multichapter fic, but will probs be a hefty oneshot. We'll see where the vibes take it!

Sirius pushes aside the tattered curtain, ducking through the low arch that leads to the junk shop. The shop is a cacophony to the sense; mountains of old ship parts scattered in seemingly random piles and hanging from the ceiling, dust and grease remnants and every surface, and a pungent smell of fuel that lingers in the air.

When Sirius first stumbled upon this place back when he first arrived in Mos Espa, it had felt more like a waste pile than an operating mechanic junk shop. But over time he’s learnt to navigate the mess - found the method behind the seemingly chaotic order. 

A small pit droid scampers past his feet, a small collection of miscellaneous wires clutched in its arms. It runs deeper into the shop, towards the sound of quiet clanking and Sirius eagerly follows. 

He dips and weaves around the labyrinth of old ship parts, deeper and deeper into the shop until he makes his way to the workshop tucked away at the back, just in time to see the little droid hand the collection of wires up to Remus. 

Sirius leans up against the wall, arms folded casually across his chest as he watches Remus silently for a moment. He’s holding a screwdriver in between his teeth as he tinkers with whatever device he’s currently working on. Once he has a free hand and carefully screws a panel back into place on the device. 

“Please don’t tell me you need more parts,” Remus says as soon as his mouth is free, without so much as glancing in Sirius’ direction. “You’re meant to be racing tomorrow.”

“Nah, she’s in better shape than ever. I think tomorrow might be the big day.”

Remus glances over at him, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re welcome for that.”

“I am forever indebted to you and your services,” Sirius announces dramatically, earning a bark of a laugh from Remus.

They settle into a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Remus asking Sirius to pass him tools and odd bits of circuit compartments. 

“Is Greyback about?” Sirius asks although he knows the answer. He wouldn’t have made it all the way back to the workshop without being hounded by Junk Dealer if Greyback were here.

“Probably out wagering on tomorrow's race,” Remus says turning his attention back to the device in his hands. “Or drinking. Or both if we’re lucky.” He says it like a joke but there’s no humor in voice or face. 

Remus doesn’t talk about Greyback much, but Sirus can pick up enough signs to piece together some vague narrative. The new scars which sometimes appear that Remus will blame on scavenging expeditions; or the way he used to flinch away from Sirius' touch when they first became friends - the way he still does after the races that Greyback will spend getting progressively more drunk depending on who’s winning.

Sirius moves to sit on the bench next to him, leaning up against him and peering over Remus’ shoulder to inspect his handy work. Remus likes to work to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. Sirius likes to watch because there’s something soothing about watching those long nimble fingers moving quickly to build things Sirius couldn’t dream up in a hundred. 

“What are you working on?”

“Long-range comms device,” Remus says quietly, “not that I have anyone to use it with.”

“You have me.”

“So you can carry on bugging me when you finally ditch this planet?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of taking a trip out to the Dune Seas," he corrects. 

Remus doesn’t say anything for a moment. Sirius hooks his chin over Remus’ shoulder. “I know you haven’t been on my ship,” he murmurs quietly. “But it’s really not big enough that we’ll need a comms unit to talk to each other.”

Sirius doesn’t need to see to know something shifts in Remus’ face, he can feel in the way his body tenses slightly and his hands falter in what they’re doing. “I mean it. One day we’re getting out of here, we'll fly away to anywhere you want.”

“That’s big talk for someone who hasn’t won a race yet,” Remus teases, deflecting from the subject. 

Sirius elbows him in the side, “I told you tomorrow’s the big day! Besides, just because I’m not raking in the big prizes doesn’t mean I’ve been saving up a nice little nest egg.”

“You can’t be doing that well if it’s taken two years and you’re still here.”

Sirius hums, “Just you wait Lupin, big things are coming.” 

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Captain Marvel: Part Eight

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: For the sake of the rewrite, Howard and Maria Stark dies on December 16, 1997 instead of 1991. Tony is 23 when they die.

x

You leave her side and find the 'T' section for Tesseract. If they have knowledge about it, what else do they have about it? The box is pretty empty since there isn't a lot of information on it, but you go through it with a fine-tooth comb. The only thing they know is that it's a box with an insane amount of power that can create portals. They got it from Howard Stark after Steve went into the ice. They tried testing it as a weapon, but it had a mind of its own, so Dr. Lawson took over and used it for her light-speed tech.

You're about to put the box back when you notice something at the very bottom. Interdimensional Republic. That's the company Markus owned. There isn't much on the company except that when the Tesseract opened a portal, they saw that name on a huge building before the portal closed. You sigh in relief and put the box back knowing that Markus will never find this place... if he's even out there.

You leave Vers to keep researching while you walk into the hallway to give yourself a breather. You're alone for maybe ten minutes before the sound of shoes clicking on the glossy floor sounds. You look up and see a man in his fifties walking toward you. You make the mistake of looking him in the eyes as he passes by you, and he stops and walks back over to you.

"I recognize you."

"Excuse me?"

"1945. Your face is plastered all over the newspapers from that time, and you even have your own section in the Smithsonian. You fought with Captain America."

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person."

"Well, then you won't care if I tell the authorities you're here."

"No!" you say too quickly. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to give you an opportunity. SHIELD is made up of dicks who only care about money and the power they hold. If you want to do something good in this world, join my side." He takes out one of his business cards and hands it to you. "I could use someone like you."

The mysterious man walks off without another word, and you look at the card he gave you. Dr. Hank Pym with Pym Technologies. You're not sure what he's up to, but you already have a big problem on your hands. Still, you put the car in your pocket and head back inside the archive's room.

Vers is over by the phone on the wall with her wrist device attached to the wires like she did when you first landed on Earth.

"Vers, what are you doing?"

"The only way we can know for sure about what happened is to talk to Maria. We need to contact Yon-Rogg. He will know what to do."

"Why? We've already gotten so much progress here ourselves because he's not here to screw it up. Do you see what using your powers can do? He's trying to manipulate you like every other Kree does."

Vers is confused about who to believe and who to trust, but she goes ahead and makes contact with Yon-Rogg despite what you've said.

"I know Lawson was Kree," she says before he has a chance to say anything. "She was here on C-53 and died in a plane crash. Do you know anything about this?"

"I just discovered a mission report sent from C-53. There's only so much I'm cleared to tell you Vers and Y/N, but Lawson was an undercover Kree operative named Mar-Vell. She was working on a unique energy core and experimenting with tech that apparently could help us win the war."

"Does it say anything about me? Or us?" you ask.

"Anything about you two? No, of course not. Why would it?"

"I found evidence that I had a life here," Vers confesses.

"On C-53?" he stutters.

"Mar-Vell is who I see as the Supreme Intelligence. I knew her, and I knew her as Lawson."

"This sounds like Skrull simulation, Vers."

"No, don't try and spin this off as some twisted delusion of your own," you growl.

"I remember I was here!"

"Stop! Remember your training. Know your enemy. It could be you. Do not let your emotions undermine your judgment."

"Go to hell." You hang up the phone. "Do not listen to him, Vers. He's manipulating you!"

"Where's Fury?"

"He's probably lost or captured. Come on."

You two leave the records room and head for the stairs. Just upon reaching the landing, you hear voices coming from above. You pull Vers into you and cover her mouth with your hand to let her know to be quiet.

"Fury's colluding with the target."

"Then why did he call us in?" a man that sounds like Agent Coulson asks.

"All I know is that we take him in too. Dead or alive."

Fury might have called them in, but you can't leave him here to get captured by who he thought was on his team. You wait for the two men to leave before heading back to the archive's room. Inside is Fury and his director fighting each other. You don't think someone's boss will pull a gun on their employee, which can only mean that the director is a Skrull looking for you and Vers. Vers blasts the director away from Fury, and he looks grateful for the save. She blasts the ceiling to use as a quick escape, and this is where you come in. You grab both of them and fly them through the hole Vers made.

"You called them in?" you scold.

"My bad!"

You find the staircase and yank the door open only to see Agent Coulson with a gun pointed at you. Vers' fists glow orange, but you put a hand to her hand to stop her from hurting Phil. Fury and Coulson have a silent conversation with their eyes, and Fury begs him not to give you away.

"Coulson, do you have eyes on them?" an agent says from above.

He takes five seconds to speak.

"They're not down here. Let's try another floor."

You three pass him on your way down to the hangar where all the airplanes are. Vers grabs a long metal pole and shoves it through the handlebars so that if someone were to try to use the door from the other side, it won't open. Once she knows it's safe, she holds her hand out as if she expects something from Fury. When he makes no move to acknowledge her, she hits his arm and holds out her hand again.

"What?"

"Give me your communicator. You obviously can't be trusted with it."

Fury sighs and hands over his pager to her just as agents slam into the locked door next to you.

"Come on!" you urge.

There isn't much to hide behind, but you manage to hide behind some large boxes that are ready to be shipped out. Agents break the door down to get inside the large room, and you weigh your options of escaping this unharmed. Vers spots one of the planes that can be used as a quick escape, and she nudges you and Fury.

With a mutual agreement, you stay hidden as you make your way over to the plane. Vers got behind the wheel, Fury took the passenger seat, and you got in the seat behind Vers. She begins messing with the controls as if she knows what she's doing. If what her memories show is true, then flying something like this is second nature to her.

"Do you know how to fly this thing?" Fury asks.

"Uh... we'll see."

"That is a yes or no question," Fury gasps. 

Whatever Vers is doing is right because the engine roars to life and the doors close behind you. She pushes the lever forward which causes the plane to hover in the air.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Fury laughs.

When the agents below hear the plane take off, they start shooting at it aimlessly. It does nothing and allows Vers to fly out of the underground tarmac area, and over the open desert before gaining altitude very quickly. Suddenly, a small meow comes from the back of the plane where a meow shouldn't be. All three of you look back and see Goose pushed against a crate.

"We've got a stowaway," Fury says.

"Hang on, Goose."

Vers straightens the plane, allowing Goose to push off the crate and onto the ground. She happily walks over to Vers and jumps onto her lap, and your girlfriend moves her over to Fury.

"Who's a good kitty huh? Huh, Goose? Yes, that's right. Who's a good kitty, Goose? You're a good kitty," Fury coos.

Vers reaches into her pocket and takes out the photograph she stole of Wendy, Maria, and her in the background, and hands it to Fury.

"Do you see anyone you know? Six years ago, I arrived in Hala, near dead with no memory. I think I'm the pilot that went down with Dr. Lawson, and if not, then the last person to see them both alive is Maria Rambeau."

"How do we get to Louisiana?"

"Due East and hang a right at Memphis," Fury jokes.

"You must have taught Agent Coulson right because I appreciate the way he stuck up for us."

"Yeah, he's the new guy. I guess he doesn't hate me yet."

"Give him time," you joke.

"I guess he had a feeling and went with his gut against orders. It's a really hard thing to do. That's what keeps us human."

"I get in trouble for that. A lot," Vers sighs.

"Yeah by an ignorant asshole who gets off on manipulation," you comment.

"I can see that about you, and even you too, Y/N. Rescuing the guy who sold you out to the Skrulls. I guess that's not standard Kree operating procedure."

"Well, I won't tell your boss if you don't tell mine."

"He won't be hearing about this from me," you smirk.

Vers flies the aircraft all the way to Louisiana where Maria Rambeau is. She is very isolated from most of the population, but it's nice to see such big trees and open fields around her house. Next to her house is a shop used to fix cars, or in her case, planes. When you get a closer look at the shop, you can see a woman tinkering on a two-seater plane. This is Vers' moment since she knew Maria back in the day.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Maria Rambeau."

The woman jumps in surprise and a little girl identical to the older woman jumps out of the plane. She runs over to Vers with an excited look on her face as if she knows who she is.

"Aunty Carol! Mom, it's Aunty Carol. I knew it! Everybody said you were dead but we knew they were lying."

The little girl hugs Vers who is apparently named Carol. Your girlfriend stands awkwardly, unaware of who this child is. Maria walks closer to Vers with an unsure look on her face like she can't believe what she's seeing.

"I'm not really who you think I am," Vers says.

Maria isn't sure if this is her friend or not, but she wants to hear what Vers has to say. Monica, Maria's daughter, and Maria are sitting with you, Vers, and Fury in the living room so you can explain to them what happened after the plane crash. Vers' name isn't even Vers. It's the name that the Kree gave her to help conceal her identity.

Her real name is Carol Danvers.

"That is the craziest shit I've ever heard," Maria chuckles once you're done explaining.

"Green-transforming aliens? There's no such thing," Monica says.

"I'm an alien," you shrug.

"You're absolutely right, young lady. There is no such thing because if there were, we would want to keep that to ourselves," Fury says and looks at you accusingly.

"You want proof?"

Carol gets up and walks over to the tea kettle on the stove in the kitchen. She grabs the sides of the kettle and uses her powers to heat the tea inside. You raise your hand and use your air powers to open the cabinet and float one of the tea cups over to where Carol is. Maria and Monica stand up in fascination and curiosity.

"No way. That is so cool," Monica grins. 

"They can do a lot more than just make tea with those hands," Fury scoffs.

"Like what? Show us."

"Maybe later," Carol chuckles.

"I kept all your stuff, I'll go get it," Monica says and rushes out of the room.

"You want to give her a hand with that?" Carol asks Fury who nods.

He leaves the room to give Carol and Maria some time alone together, and you get up to leave when Carol grabs your hand. This is all so new to her, but you're her safety net. She trusts you with her life, so she needs you here in case something goes wrong.

"So, her name is Carol?" you ask Maria.

"Yeah. You don't remember anything?"

"I see flashes of little moments, but I can't tell what's real. If I could just piece together what happened that morning, maybe it'll all make sense."

"You were banging on my door at dawn and woke me up. I didn't think anything of it because that's what you normally did. Back then, we had to get up so early. The Air Force wasn't letting women fly in combat, so testing Lawson's planes was our only shot at doing something that mattered. That morning, you wanted to race to the base but your old Mustang was nothing compared to my Camaro. You cheated and took a shortcut," Maria laughs at the memory.

There are tears in Carol's eyes at the thought of her stolen life, but she doesn't let them fall.

"Since when is a shortcut cheating?"

"Since it violates the predetermined rules of engagement."

"I definitely don't remember those."

"Mmm, of course, you don't." They both laugh like old friends. "When I got to the hanger, Lawson was agitated, because she had lives to save. She was trying to take the Aces up herself, but you said—"

"If there were lives at stake, I would fly the plane," Carol finish for her.

"Yup. Big hero moment. The kind of moment we've both been waiting for. The Doc was always unique. That's why I liked her, but now you're saying she's from another planet."

"I know this must be hard for you," you comment.

"What, this part right here? No. Do you know what's hard? Losing my best friend in a mission so secret they act like it never even happened. Hard is knowing you were out there somewhere, too damn stubborn to die. Now you come up in here after six years with your super-charged fire hands and magical friend, and you expect me to call you... I don't even know what... 'Vers'? Is that really who you are now?"

"I don't know," Carol sighs.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ohheyitsokay]

some incomplete, unfounded, and unpopular thoughts on the new ai announcement:

I'm choosing (maybe stupidly) to feel tentatively optimistic about it.

one of the things people who are trying to move to other platforms are quickly discovering is that the high likelihood is that many many of the other options are also likely selling your work either over the table but without clear disclosure or under the table.

unfortunately, frankly, I was operating under the assumption that some portion of my things were already being used. does that suck, in a frustrating dystopia way? yeah. but we also live in a world in which I'm acutely aware technology is advancing far faster than rules, regulations, and laws can keep up? also yeah.

secondly, I was also not surprised to hear the announcement because... we know tumblr has needed the money and has been forced to prioritize keeping the website afloat (longterm) over keeping its users happy and comfortable (shorterm). we know that businesses have never been our friend. they need the money, and I truly believe there were worse options for them to get it and worse ways for them to have screwed us over, and it wouldn't been standard to not tell us about it at all.

honestly i wish other platforms disclosed the deals and gave an opt out option. I hope this sets a president for other social media.

so glaze your art, be careful about your posts, toggle off the sharing whether or not it matters, and understand the internet has never been safe. persist anyway. enjoy creating and enjoy your friends and we'll figure it out. keep pushing and pushing for ai regulations and data selling disclosure and all that stuff - read up on it when you get the energy and don't get dragged down when there's too much to fight for. find and support people who have expertise in the areas we don't understand fully and do your best to keep plowing forward.

persist, with passion for what we create and determined optimism for what we can change and apathy for things outside of our control.

I am sure I'm making naive arguments about these things but I simply do not have the time or energy to be devastated every time a company makes a choice that knowingly or unknowingly impacts me. I've got people to love and art to make and I'm trying my best to be educated and make change but I refuse to die over it. this part is just me saying please don't come for me

tl;dr while the new ai deal is discouraging and scary, i do not think it's a catastrophe. and artists (of all kinds) have always and will always persist

[marginaletchings]

I’d like to add some counterpoints to some bullshit victim-blaming:

“They know the risks.” -- Living is a risk. Driving is a risk. Walking outside is a risk. We still have laws of conduct that protect pedestrians because we inherently ought to understand that a person operating a one or multi-ton machine should do so with the care that is required to do so safely. Knowing the risks and agreeing to do a thing has nothing at all to do with the wanton misuse of authority, the lack of protection for the people involved in something. Someone “knowing the risk” and dying from playing a sport for entertainment doesn’t make it less tragic that they died, and it doesn’t absolve anyone of not doing their best to prevent that from happening. (I used to be licensed in the state of Tennessee for writing property, casualty, life, and health insurance policies, for private individuals and commercial entities. I am ready and willing to tear someone a new hole over the phrase tHeY kNeW tHe RiSkS.)

“My store stayed open after something bad happened so why can’t they keep playing?” - And what does anyone (other than YOU) gain from this? How does that help anyone at all? If there is a slim chance that calling a game off would help a man not die, and would bring comfort and solidarity to his teammates and the opposing team who are the athletes colleagues, why does YOUR entertainment matter more? Were you even there at the store when that bad thing happened? Did you even dare to listen to your employees, or did you tell them to ~walk it off~? Why don’t you try walking off a broken leg? I’m sure that’ll go really well for you.

“You can’t touch them, or help them, go back to your spot.” - The primary reason you cannot touch or engage with someone who is hurt in a public setting as an employee is because of liability. The moment an employee tries to touch someone to help administer first aid, the company will become liable even if the incident was entirely out of anyone’s control and had nothing to do with the company/premises. You could try to save someone and fail, and their family could sue the pants off you and the company. 

On one hand, having written policies, I understand the legal protections behind it-- People can and will do shit like that and it’s very much one of those, “we have these in place because we can’t have nice things and everyone wants to cover their butts.” 

On the other hand, I see this as a symptom of a much greater and uglier problem in American society: The “Screw You, I Got Mine” approach to life. People are incentivized to “cheat” the system because the system is inherently bullshit. Those incidents are then used as excuses to further rig the system against people, and this is disguised as ~protection~ for businesses and their workers, but the only people getting protected are the folks at the top. It’s all just one giant monetary circlejerk for the Powers That Be, and they all have a vested interest in maintaining a culture that blames victims and punishes people for trying to be human and help each other in times of need.

“He’s too young/he did x/he did y/he shouldn’t have done x” - So what? So fucking what? It still happened. And watching something like that happen to someone is traumatic for everyone else around them. Demanding peak performance (or any performance) because of your own gains in money/entertainment after something like that is some of the most selfish, cruel, small-brained bullshit I’ve heard in my LIFE. THINK about what you’re saying for five fucking seconds.

The reason people in power are so insecure and want to hold onto it is because they know once they lose out, they’re going to be chewed up and spat out just like the rest of us. If American hospitality and kindness still exist, it’s being actively choked out by the insatiable greed of a cultural existential crisis that way too many people want to ignore--and they’re finding their escapism at other people’s expense, perpetuating the fucking cycle.

they need to stop this NFL season now i am not joking or being facetious they need to reevaluate how football is played fundamentally and it should have happened after Tua earlier this season

[hikonindia]

What is Injection Moulding Machine, How It Works, and Its Benefits?

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Body:

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[the-firebird69]

And nobody likes these trumpsters and their attitude mandates to people do stuff and they get stuff and take stuff from others and ruin them and there are pieces of s*** and I don't want to be near him or hear him deal with them but I have to so going to destroy him but holy crap what an a****** so I started working on it today and I picked up my mouth I said mallet in a flattened I said this guy has to go there's too many devices by him there's too many people doing it and it's the most out of all the more lock he does about 60% of it and it's a lot of stuff we need to take over his businesses long time ago and we need a huge Army to do it he's got way too many devices and Thor and I went to a meeting together and just me and him and I said what are you doing he's going nuts and get this a****** out of my face and he said to me I'm saying it too I'm saying it to you get him out of our face and so we assembled a huge Army it's dedicated to it and we're going around taking all the stuff and Duke and Blockbuster has a separate Army and they need to and we're growing them both and we're supporting and we're getting stuff out too and we got different areas and we're going to gangbusters and huge Army is being raised now to do the same job all over the world and concentrate on this piece of crap and the other pieces of crap shortly and the max sat down and said we have to concentrate on these idiots and to protect our own and foreigners too they're planting way too many devices these women have devices under their houses and they're big bombs 3 ft diameter nukes and that comes and takes them out it's not commonplace but they're doing it a lot and these women are flipping out and yours need to weigh Chan Lin and others and so he told people and everyone's getting involved. So he investigated that lady and you figured out that she didn't know and a lot of people don't know and said this this work is very hard it's extremely tedious and very very dangerous and these trumpsters are pieces of s*** and don't know that the planet can blow up rude and solar system and everything be ruined in the guy who did it would die wouldn't make it to the universe because the universe would be a big huge pool table of exploding balls. Now there's a huge investigation going on regarding John remillard AKA Trump and Tommy f and they're doing this work for real and they found that these people are massive terrorists every bombing on Earth is a responsibility and the going around screwing around with people's reputations and they hated George cuz he was anti-terror and he said oh s*** I'm in the wrong side I said yeah but they're doing it now and they don't look at anyone as what they really were worth cuz they don't get it oh oh is my theory now he said I got the information he did he said that's what it is they don't care about all these weapons and stuff so our son's in trouble and they're holding him and trying to start bonds to go off and huge forces are gathered tonight and they're professionals and they're going after it very hard huge numbers of devices and he says you should just plant them all over the islands and blow the s*** out of them and put them in their ships tell them to stop doing it while they're all dead if that's something that works and we examine it and it really works by just getting rid of them and their cloning too and we started doing it today and we're bringing everything. It's a giant giant Force now and it's growing and we always need more and everybody's doing it we need to be a massive massive Force and we're going to communicate to the max when we're going to detonate and other races and we're going to evaporate these people into nothing

Thor Freya

They want to ring the sun with the device so trying to find our ship in Arizona and that's what they're doing out there and it's operation Phoenix and it's from Florida and Trump asked about the movie and made it popularized and screwed himself and everybody else is now he's done piece of s***

[likeahorribledream]

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍꜱ

SUMMARY: On your 18th birthday, you get a tattoo on your arm of what your soulmate’s first words/sentence will be to you. Yours always seemed so sweet until Ransom speaks those words to you in a very condescending way.

REQUEST: The first thing your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your arm and the first thing he says to reader is really rude but the second he realizes that she’s his soulmate he goes all soft.

PAIRING: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

WORD COUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, fluff, Ransom being a dick but also a very big softie. Reader has two dads, I don't think that should be a warning in 2022 but just in case some people are still stuck in the 1950s.

NOTE: This is my first ''soulmate'' story, hopefully it's good! If not, then I'm sorry haha!

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Working for Linda Thrombey was basically like going on a suicide mission, every single day. You never know what’s going to be waiting for you but you still have a pretty good idea that it won’t end well. Even when she’s in a good mood, it’s still a very bad mood. Spending an entire day without irritating her too much is like trying to cross a minefield without stepping on any detonator; almost impossible. None of your family or friends understand why you keep putting yourself through this kind of torture. There are jobs in real estate all over the country, it’d be easy to find another one but none of them have Linda Thrombey. She might be horrible with human beings but she does understand business and you’ve learned so much from her already. She goes after what she wants and isn’t scared to make her voice heard. She’s absolutely ruthless and she makes no excuses for it. She’s dominating the field all over Boston and there’s a reason for it. She knows what she’s talking about and she understands selling like nobody else.

When you started working for her a few years ago, she used to take you to open houses and other business transactions to show you exactly how she operates and you had been pleasantly surprised to see that she doesn’t sell under pressure. She listens to her clients, listens to their needs and she finds the perfect house, apartment, condo, villa or mansion for them. You had asked her one day why she didn’t try to pressure anyone into buying bigger than they need, get them to go above their budget and make more money off of them and her answer was simple: people move all the time. If she does her job well the first time then they are more likely to buy from her again and talk about her to the people in their lives. If you try to screw your clients out of hundreds of thousands of dollars to put in your own pocket, the word is going to travel and you won’t have any business. That’s how you make more money and not by trying to sell them bigger, more expansive houses that they’ll end up hating.

It’s for moments like those that you keep coming into work every day. With time, she warmed up to you some. Not a lot, it’s still Linda we’re talking about, but enough to keep you around and keep teaching you whenever possible. She even gave you a few houses to show and you had sold every single one of them to very satisfied clients. She hadn’t congratulated you but she gave you a genuine smile so you took it as a win. You’ve also been the only employee who has stuck around for so long, everybody else goes running after a few weeks or a few months for the toughest amongst them. Funnily enough, Linda still keeps calling you ‘’new girl’’ even if you’re anything but new at her company. It’s better than ‘’dumb and dumber’’, which she has called more than one employee since you’ve been there.

You had tried to explain all of this to your family and to your friends but they stayed fixated on Linda and her reputation rather than what you were gaining from it all.

‘’If it’s because you need money, your father and I are more than happy to give you anything you need.’’ He told you one day when you had called your dad.

‘’I know pops and I appreciate it but like I’ve told you, and dad, multiple times I’m fine. She’s amazing at her job. Trust me.’’ You had reassured him, once more.

Having one papa bear to watch over you is nice, having two papa bears is nice too but also kind of stressful, you love your dads to death and you wouldn’t change them for the world. Every day you take a moment to thank whoever was watching over you when you were born and gave you to these two amazing men.

In the few years you’ve worked for Linda, never once had you been in contact with any other Thrombey family members except for Richard, her husband, a few times. You were thankful for that because you’ve heard all the rumors about her son being almost as ruthless as her, some would even say more. You could only manage one Thrombey at a time.

3 years. That’s how long you’d been there before shit hit the fan. 3 blissful-ish years that came to a screeching halt when you got to the office one morning and Linda wasn’t there, which is odd for her because she always leaves after you and gets in before you. Your phone had started ringing shortly after you walked into her building and you quickly picked up when you saw it was your boss calling.

‘’Mrs. Thrombey, is everything ok?’’ You asked, dropping a pile of files on top of your desk.

‘’I won’t be coming in today. My stupid husband broke his foot and I’m now stuck at the hospital with him, he might need surgery so I need to stay, apprently.’’ She sighed, exasperated. ‘’You’ll have to hold down the fort for the day, you already know my schedule anyway. I’ll send you my son to give you some help. Don’t be afraid to put that little prick back in his place. You’re in charge today, not him. Text me if you need my help.’’

‘’You can trust me, thank you. Do you need me to bring you anything? Coffee or breakfast? Clothes?’’

‘’Actually yes, do you think you could find me a husband that’s less stupid and come get the stupid one instead?’’

You chuckled quietly. ‘’I’ll get right on that, boss.’’

You quickly hung up, knowing the conversation wouldn’t be going any further and went to your computer to print Linda’s schedule like you do every morning and listen to all her voicemails, also like you do every morning. So far, you have the situation under control. You call back a few clients to let them know Linda would be out of the office for the day, those you knew would only go through her and her only.

Everything was going well. Too well. Around noon, that’s when trouble started. The phone kept ringing, like suddenly everyone wants to sell their houses or buy new ones and they all want to see Linda as soon as possible. You’ve been on the phone and the computer so much that you haven’t had time to eat lunch at all and you are starving.

Trying to multitask, you bring your lunch to your desk and keep talking on the phone while typing on your computer to schedule every appointment in the way Linda likes. This is your chance to prove yourself to her and you aren’t going to let anything get in the way of that.

As you’re talking to a client, you reach across your desk to take a file and when you pull it back you knock your sandwich off of your desk and it explodes as soon as it hits the floor.

You hold back a curse, trying to keep it professional but you feel like you’re about to lose it. Being overworked and hangry is not a good combination.

You wrap up your call as fast as possible and turn on your chair to look at what used to be your sandwich.

‘’Why?’’ You whine, moving to kneel on the floor to pick up all the pieces of food that scattered everywhere. ‘’One bite, that’s all I was asking for. This fucking day.’’ You mumble to yourself as you roll up your sleeves and start picking up lettuce, tomatoes and turkey from the floor.

‘’Thank god you’re pretty.’’

You almost jump out of your skin at the man’s voice. You quickly stand back up and look at the front door.

‘’Excuse me?!’’

‘’You’re such a fucking mess. How you’ve managed to keep this job for so long is beyond me.’’ He shakes his head and walks toward you. ‘’You’re the one my mother left in charge?’’

You have been so busy that you totally forgot that Linda had sent her son to give you a hand.

‘’I am.’’ You put your hands on your hips. ‘’Nice of you to finally show up.’’

Ransom rolls his eyes. ‘’Calm down, kitten. I’m here, aren’t I?’’

Oh this day is going to be long and painful. You move closer to your desk and grab a pile of files that you shove against his chest, holding them until he takes them. ‘’Less talking, more working.’’

He opens his mouth to say something, condescending you’re sure, but you hold up your hand and stop him. ‘’I’m the one in charge, Mrs. Thrombey says you have to listen to me so don’t even try it.’’

You’re about to put your arm down but Ransom grabs your wrist and pulls your arm closer to him.

‘’Ow, what the hell is your problem?’’ You try to pull on your arm but his grip tightens to keep you from moving.

With his free hand he drops the folders on your desk and pulls up his left sleeve with the fingers that are still around your wrist. He pushes your forearms together and your eyes widen.

From the moment you turn 18, you get a tattoo somewhere on either arm. Absolutely everybody over 18 has one. Sometimes it’s one word, two words, a sentence or two but it’s always the first words that your soulmate will speak to you when you meet. The tattoos didn’t mean that you are guaranteed to meet your soulmate but it helped you recognize them when you do. Nowadays, less and less people believe in soulmates. They don’t even bother looking at their tattoos or trying to listen to the first words that are spoken to them at all. They could meet their soulmates without ever knowing it because they don’t remember what the tattoo on their arms says. Most people give up completely on the ideas of soulmates and just date until they fall in love. It’s not because your significant other isn’t the one that you can’t love them.

The only people you’ve ever met in your life that found their soulmates are your dads. It was your favorite story growing up, hearing about how they found each other. They had told it to you over and over again to a point where you could tell it for them as you knew it by heart. Your dads had explained that it’s not because you find your soulmate that you’re automatically in love. Your soulmate is most likely a stranger after all, but they are still your soulmate and if fate chose them for you then there’s a reason. You’ll eventually get to know each other and then fall in love, it’s not a matter of if but when.

Lucky are the ones that find their soulmates at some point in their lives. The love of a soulmate is the purest kind of love that could ever exist. There aren’t words strong enough to describe how it feels to be united with your soulmate. Two halves of a whole coming together.

Here you stand, in the middle of your office with your sandwich still scattered across the floor with your boss’ son who’s holding your arms together.

Thank god you’re pretty is written across yours while excuse me is written on his.

‘’Since I was 18 I thought I was so lucky because my soulmate’s first words were going to be so incredibly sweet and instead they were meant in the most condescending way.’’ You pull on your arm and this time Ransom lets it go.

You go back to picking up the mess you’ve made while Ransom keeps staring at you.

‘’Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean them in that way-’’

You cut him off. ‘’Yes, that’s exactly how you meant them. You walked in here, hours after you were supposed to, you watched me busting my ass to get everything done instead of stepping up and offering your help, and you had the nerves to insult me.’’ You throw everything in the trash can and stand back up. ‘’This day has been a shit show since I walked in this morning and all I wanted was a damn sandwich.’’ You walk away to the bathroom in the back to wash your hands and try to calm down.

When you come back out, the office is empty and you’re alone again. Ransom had left while you were in the bathroom.

‘’This fucking day.’’ You repeat to yourself, all the efforts you had made to calm down while in the bathroom were for nothing, you’re even more angry than you were before.

You sit back behind your desk and go through your drawers to see if maybe there were some snacks you might have forgotten about but sadly you find nothing.

You throw yourself back into your work hoping that if you keep busy your stomach will forget that you're starving and you can hold off until dinner with your dads tonight.

Thankfully the phone stops ringing and you're able to focus solely on updating files and doing research for Linda's clients.

As you're deep into work you hear the door to the office open. Great, Ransom left and didn't even bother to lock the door on his way out.

"Sorry we're closed to the public today, come back tomorrow please." You say to whoever walked in, without looking up from your work.

"Mh, it's just me."

You look up when you hear Ransom's voice and raise a brow. "I thought you left."

"I didn't. Well I did but just to get you this." He holds up a bag.

"What is that?"

"A sandwich from the deli." He takes it out of the bag and hands it to you.

You try not to look too surprised as you take it from his hand because you don't want to offend him but that's the last thing you thought he'd do. Where's the asshole from earlier?

"Thank you, that's really nice." He offers you a shy smile and goes to sit at his mother's desk, taking the files you had given to him earlier with him.

You're quick to take the sandwich out of the wrapper and take a big bite out of it.

"Is it good?" Ransom asks after a few bites.

"Very. Thank you." You smile at him before continuing eating.

10 minutes later the sandwich is all gone and you're back at work. You both work in silence, not really having the time to speak or knowing what to say.

At around 4pm you look at all the work you still have to do and there's no way you're getting out of the office before 8 tonight. That means you won't be able to have dinner with your fathers and it sucks because it's been so long since you were able to spend time with them.

You dial your dad's number on your work phone and pick up the receiver, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, dad."

"Hey, princess. How are you?"

"I'm ok but I have to cancel dinner tonight. I'm sorry."

"No." Your dad says, clearly disappointed. "Why?"

"My boss is at the hospital with her husband and I still have a ton of work to do before I can leave."

"We were so excited to see you. We miss you."

You feel a little tug at your heart. "I know dad, I'm so sorry. I miss you too."

Ransom's been listening in on your conversation, it's a small room and there's literally no noises.

"You can go to dinner." Ransom says quickly, trying not to interrupt too much.

"Hold on, dad." You look at Ransom. "What?"

"You can go to dinner with your parents. I'll talk to my mom, don't worry."

You hesitate but shake your head. "No, she'll fire me. She fired people for a lot less."

"Like I said, I'll talk to her. She won't fire you, you're the only employee she's never described as incompetent and that's huge coming from her. So go, don't worry about it."

"Listen to him! He's giving you an out, take it."

You chuckle at what your dad said.

"Fine, I'll be there in about two hours ok?"

"If you're not here by 6 I'm sending your dad to pick you up and you know how embarrassing he can be."

"Damn, no need to threaten me. I'll be there."

"Good. Love you."

"Love you, bye."

You hang up the phone, in a good mood for the first time in hours.

"Thank you." You say to Ransom. "I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do after the way I spoke to you."

"Well, I had forgiven you when you brought me a sandwich but allowing me to see my parents certainly won't hurt."

You roll your chair back and stand up to start cleaning up your desk.

"Is your mom as crazy as mine?"

You shrug. "I don't have one."

"You don't have a mom?" Ransom asks, slightly confused.

"I mean I have one, obviously, but I've never met her. My dads adopted me before I was even born so the moment she gave birth to me they took over."

"Oh, ok. That makes more sense." Ransom nods and stands up too. "How is it? Having two dads."

"It's great, for the most part." You put the files in your cabinet and lock it. "Two dads mean twice the dad jokes, you know."

Ransom laughs. "I don't think my father ever made dad jokes."

"Your family seems a little…" You stop to think of the right word.

"Loveless, cold, insane?"

"I was gonna say peculiar but those work too."

"Yeah, none of us are excited to see each other at family dinners and we certainly don't miss one another." Ransom shrugs.

"That's no fun. I'm sorry." You tell him sincerely.

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

You grab your phone, keys and bag and follow Ransom to the front door to put on the alarm and you lock up the doors once you're both outside.

"Could I get your number? If you don't want to give it to me I totally get it."

Ransom seems nervous and you feel like you might be one of very few people who have seen him this way.

"Of course you can have it." It's not like you'd turn down a chance to get to know your soulmate, not when you're one of the few lucky people who get to find their other half.

You give him your number and he gives you his, then he walks you to your car.

"For your safety." He had said with the cheekiest of grins.

You have just enough time to go home, change and go to your parents' house.

"Who was that boy I heard on the phone earlier?" Your dad asked between bites.

"Boy?" You laughed. "The man you heard is Ransom. He's Linda's son and…" You trailed off, hesitating to tell them.

"Your boyfriend?" Your pops said in a mocking tone.

"My soulmate, actually."

"Your what now?" Your dad asked while patting his husband's back who got into a coughing fit at your revelation.

"My soulmate." You continued eating like it's no big deal.

"How long have you known?!"

"I don't know 6-7 hours." You shrugged.

"Is he as sweet as your tattoo showed?"

Now you're the one who chokes on her food and coughs. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

You put down your fork while thinking carefully about how to explain who Ransom is.

"Well, he's a little bit worse than his mother. What my tattoo didn't say was that the "thank god you're pretty" was followed by a "you're a fucking mess" all wrapped up in a condescending tone."

"Aw, honey. I'm sorry. I know you hoped for a really nice guy." Your pops said, now that he's breathing normally again. "But you don't have to be with him. If you stay away your souls won't connect and you won't fall in love. You can be with someone better, that's what most people do."

"I don't know. He's the one who realized we were soulmates, the second he saw my tattoo he knew whereas I hadn't even made the connection. His attitude changed right away and he turned into a very sweet guy. I don't know maybe it's fate pulling at me but I feel like maybe he's been looking for his soulmate for a very long time. Enough to put two and two together instantly. His family sucks, Linda is no different with him than she is with me. He's probably been looking for someone who is really going to love him, unlike his own parents."

Your fathers exchanged a look.

"You know best. We trust you." They smiled at you and you continued eating, changing the subject to something different.

The next morning as you get to the office, you notice Linda's car in the parking lot and you're suddenly very nervous. You take a few deep breaths before walking in, show no weakness she always tells you.

"Good morning Mrs. Thrombey. How's your husband doing?"

"Still useless. I see you were busy yesterday."

"A lot of potential new clients and returning ones. I've put quite a few meetings in your schedule, whenever you have time to look at it just tell me what doesn't work for you and I'll change it."

"Ransom told me you did a great job. He rarely has good things to say about other people."

You sit down at your desk. "I'm glad he was satisfied with my work." You turn to look at your boss. "Do you need me to bring you anything before I start on the voicemail and emails, Mrs. Thrombey?"

"I think you can call me Linda, you're going to be family after all." She smirks at you.

"Oh. Ransom told you about that, uh?" You ask as your leg starts to bounce under your desk because of the nerves.

"He did. He's quite proud that it's you, and honestly I'm relieved. I'd rather have you as a daughter-in-law than some bimbo whose only life goal is spending all of our family money."

Did she just compliment you? In her own way of course, but that was definitely a compliment of some sort. Your leg slows down and completely stops bouncing as you calm down.

"So you're not firing me?"

"Not today, no. You're staying late tonight to finish what you didn't last night."

"Yes ma'am." You quickly look away to hide the smile that's forming on your lips.

As soon as you got home from work, you texted Ransom.

You: Thank you for talking to your mother.

Ransom: I’m guessing you still have your job then?

You: I do!

Ransom: I’m glad I could help. Again, sorry for the way I spoke to you.

You: Can I ask you something?

Ransom: Sure.

You: Would you be apologizing if you hadn’t found out we were soulmates?

Ransom: Honestly? Probably not hahaha.

You: That’s what I thought.

Ransom: How disappointed and mad are you that I’m your soulmate?

You: What makes you think that I’m either of those things?

Ransom: Really? Does that mean you’ll let me take you out to dinner?

You: Maybe! We’ll see.

For the most part you only texted or called Ransom as you got to know one another, you wanted to form a real opinion of him and not let fate just pull you together like magnets and never knowing if you truly liked him or not. As it turns out, he’s actually pretty funny and nice. You can tell he’s trying really hard to show you who he truly is and that he’s trying to let down his guard. You stay patient and don’t necessarily point it out when he’s being a little bit of an asshole. There are still a few slip ups but nothing major, nothing that would make you change your mind about him.

‘’When can we see each other face-to-face?’’ He asks you as you’re facetiming one night after work.

You’ve been talking strictly on the phone for a few weeks to keep your head clear.

‘’We are face-to-face right now.’’ You point out, teasing him.

‘’Ha. Ha. Ha.’’ He rolls his eyes in a playful way. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’Soon.’’ You promise, as you get on your bed lying face down and propping your head up with your hand using your free hand to hold your phone.

‘’You’re killing me baby, when is soon?’’

You chuckle. ‘’You gotta work on your patience.’’

‘’Will do. As soon as we can hang out for real.’’ He grins.

‘’Nice try.’’ You push yourself up to sit with your legs tucked under you. ‘’I gotta go. I need to shower and eat dinner still.’’

‘’Aw. Ok.’’ He looks disappointed that you already have to go. ‘’I’ll text you before you go to bed.’’

Every night you get a ‘’good night, sweet dreams’’ text and every morning you get a ‘’good morning beautiful’’ text waiting for you and it’s the sweetest thing. He has not missed a single night or morning since you started talking and you love that he thinks about you at the start and end of his day.

Ransom has surprised you so much, in a good way. The first impression he left on you wasn’t great, to put it lightly, but he has more than made up for it since then. Working with his mom every day for years, you can easily understand why his first instinct is to attack before being attacked. You’re just grateful that he has learned that he doesn’t have to do it with you. Sometimes you’d say something he doesn’t like and you can tell that he’s getting defensive so you take the time to remind him that it’s a simple conversation, that you aren’t attacking him and that he’s also allowed his opinion even if it’s different than yours. It’s nice to be able to witness his walls coming down, to watch as he reveals his true self. A self that he’s also getting to know at the same time you do.

After hanging up the phone with Ransom, eating dinner and showering, you decide to call one of your dads to get his opinion on the situation.

‘’Hey dad. I know it’s late, I’m sorry. Are you busy?’’

‘’Never too busy for you, princess. What’s going on ?’’

‘’I wanted to ask you questions about when you realised that dad was your soulmate.’’

‘’Sure, what do you need to know?’’

‘’Did you start dating right away or did you take some time apart while getting to know each other from a distance? You’ve never really told me about that specific part of your relationship.’’

‘’We did get to know each other from a distance. Like you and Ransom, we didn’t want to have our bond pulling us together without knowing how we really felt. Except we didn’t have texts so it was mostly phone calls and letters.’’ He chuckles.

‘’So freaking old.’’ You tease him. ‘’Can the bond still form if you’re never in the same room or close to one another? I’ve been talking with Ransom every day for weeks and I’m really getting attached but I’m scared it might just be the bond and not my actual feelings.’’

‘’I can’t tell you for sure how it works, no one really knows about how the bond works but everyone seems to agree that you need physical contact or at least closeness for it to really take form. It can take hours, days even to form so that day you spent in the office with him wasn’t enough to form a close bond.”

‘’Thank you dad.’’

‘’Does that answer your questions?’’

‘’It does. Thank you. Go back to sleep!’’

‘’It’s only 10 pm, sweetheart.’’

‘’Exactly, way past your bedtime.’’

‘’Smartass.’’

‘’Love you too!’’ You laugh, hanging up.

You throw a little curveball to Ransom and text him goodnight first before turning in for the night.

After getting to the office the next morning, you’re sure glad that you went to bed early last night because Linda is in a mood. She woke you up at 5am, told you to be at the office at 6 and she’s been stressing you out ever since. You don’t even know why.

You: You were right when you said I was a mess.

Ransom: Why? What happened?

You: Your mother happened. She woke up in a mood. She woke me up at 5, I’ve been at the office since 6 and she stressed me out so badly that I forgot my lunch. I can’t even leave to get one because she’s been riding my ass. I’m currently hiding in the bathroom just to get a few minutes of peace.

You: Oh crap, she’s yelling. Gotta go.

‘’Wouldn’t you like some lunch, Mrs. Thrombey? I can step out and go get you something.’’

‘’I’m not hungry.’’ She mumbles while typing on her computer.

But I’m starving, please let me eat. You think while turning around in your chair. You regret not filling up your drawers with snacks after the whole sandwich debacle from weeks ago. Maybe one day you’ll learn.

‘’Go make 100 copies of this flyer.’’ She points to it without looking up and you hurry up, grab the flyer and disappear in the other room with it.

You set up the copier in the way that it needs and sit down next to it while you wait for the copies to come out. You close your eyes and let your head roll back in a desperate attempt at letting the tension out of your neck and shoulders but unfortunately it’s not enough.

Suddenly as you wait, the smell of food hits your nostrils and you get out of your chair incredibly fast to go see what’s going on. You peek your head out of the room, just in case it’s a trap from Linda.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Linda asks her son as she finally looks up from her screen.

‘’I brought food for my girl because she forgot her lunch.’’ He puts down the bag on your desk then turns again to look at his mother.

‘’What about me?’’

‘’What about you?’’ He frowns, crossing his arms.

‘’Where’s my lunch?’’

‘’I don’t know. Where did you put it?’’ He smirks, knowing damn well what she means.

‘’Useless. Just like your father.’’ She sighs, exasperated.

‘’Yeah, yeah. We get it. You hate us, bla, bla, bla. Get over it.’’

Oh, Ransom. He needs to stop railing up his mother before she takes it out on you.

‘’How did you know she forgot her lunch anyway?’’

Crap. Crap. Crap.

‘’Soulmate bond.’’ He lies.

Linda has never met her own soulmate so she doesn’t know how it is.

She looks at him suspiciously and rolls her eyes. ‘’How nice for you. Using your soulmate bond like it’s ÜberEats.’’

You sigh with relief when his mom believes him.

‘’Where is she by the way?’’

‘’Aw, your soulmate bond doesn’t have GPS?’’

‘’You seem in such a delightful mood, I just want to make sure you didn’t cut her into pieces and buried her somewhere.’’

‘’Believe me, if I ever kill her you’ll never be able to find a single piece of her.’’ Linda goes back to her work on her computer like what she said didn’t just make your blood run cold.

You go back to sitting on your chair, staring at the copier who’s not even halfway through.

Less than a minute later, there’s a knock behind you that makes you jump and turn around quickly.

Ransom chuckles. ‘’Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I brought you food.’’ He holds up the bag that he had put on your desk a few minutes ago. He didn’t trust his mother enough to just leave it there, unsupervised.

‘’You’re an angel, thank you.’’ You take the bag from him with a big smile and look at what is inside. Your favorite because he strangely knows you very well already.

‘’How angry is your mom right now?’’ You ask him as you look up and start chewing on a fry.

‘’She’s pissed.’’

You groan and lean back in your chair. ‘’What time is it?’’

Ransom looks down at his watch. ‘’I don’t think you want to know.’’

‘’Hold on.’’ You take a couple of fries and put them completely in your mouth. ‘’Tell me.’’ You chew, waiting.

‘’1:30’’

‘’Fuck.’’ You fake cry, though you aren’t that far away from actually crying.

He chuckles softly. ‘’I’m gonna go. I just wanted to bring you food. Text me when you’re home so I know she hasn’t killed you.’’

You frown. ‘’Don’t joke about that. You and I both know that she definitely could.’’

‘’I’ll avenge you, I promise.’’ He laughs. ‘’Bye, baby. Good luck.’’ Ransom winks at you before walking away, leaving you all alone with your food and his crazy mother.

The rest of the afternoon goes without a hitch, though you’ve felt Linda’s stare burn holes through your head multiple times after Ransom’s little visit but you pretended not to notice, you thought it was safer that way.

You were absolutely sure that you weren’t going to leave the office before midnight but surprisingly, Linda let you go at 6.

‘’Are you sure, Mrs. Thrombey? I can stay for as long as you need.’’

‘’And you did. Now go home.’’ She dismisses you by a wave of her hand and you sure as hell won’t stick around long enough for her to change her mind.

‘’Thank you. Have a good night.’’ You say to her as you lock up your desk and grab your things.

‘’Good night.’’

You walk out of the office and toward your car in a good mood, which was a big change from how your day started. You’ll later blame what you’re about to do on the fact that you’re exhausted. You press the call button on your phone and bring it up to your ear as you sit in your car, locking the doors once yours is closed.

‘’Hey baby, still alive?’’

You smile at the sound of his voice. ‘’Alive might be too strong of a word but yes.’’ You chuckle.

‘’That’s a relief.’’ He chuckles along with you.

‘’Have you eaten? Dinner, I mean.’’ You ask him, your leg bouncing nervously.

‘’Not yet, why?’’

‘’I thought maybe if you still wanted to, we could hang out. For real. Like pizza and movies? I know it’s a dumb idea but-’’

‘’When do you want me there?’’ He quickly cuts you off.

‘’Mh. An hour? So that I have time to shower and change. I’m wearing my pajamas, just an FYI.’’

‘’I’ll be there in an hour. Text me your address.’’

Your smile is so wide that it almost hurts your cheeks. ‘’Great. I’ll see you later then.’’

‘’Yeah.’’ He tries to play it cool but you can hear the excitement in his voice.

As soon as you hang up you text him your address and once that’s done, you pull out of the parking lot and go straight home.

The next hour goes by excruciatingly slowly and incredibly fast at the same time. You hadn't planned on having anyone over and your house was a little bit of a mess. You needed to tidy up on top of showering and looking somewhat presentable in your pajamas.

Finally, there's a knock on your door and you almost feel like running to open it but instead you wait a few seconds, you didn't want to look like you had been waiting for him by the door.

You open the door with a big smile on your face, stepping aside right away to let Ransom in.

"Hi." You say, closing the door.

"Hi again." He grins.

You look down and can't help but chuckle. "You wore pajamas?"

"You weren't going to be the only one comfy here."

"I love it." You lead him to the living room and point to the couch. "Make yourself at home. What kind of pizza would you like?" You watch as he takes off his shoes and sits down on your couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Pepperoni, cheese and bacon."

"Fries?"

"Of course." He nods.

"What do you want to drink?"

"I'd take a beer, if you have one."

"You got it, I'll be right back." You leave him in the living room and go to the kitchen to order and get Ransom's beer. You walk back in the living room a few minutes later and hand Ransom the bottle.

"What do you want to watch?" You ask, sitting down on the couch with your legs tucked under you. You left a little bit of a distance between the two of you and Ransom doesn't seem to like that.

"Whatever you want, baby." He drinks from his beer and leans over to put it down on the coffee table. "Are you going to stay this far away from me all night? If you aren't ready for us to hang out together, it's ok. I know I've been bugging you about it but I'll still respect your choice." A crease forms between his brows as concern washes over him, scared that you only wanted to hang out with him because you felt pressured to and not because you wanted to.

"No, it's not that. I just didn't know where I should sit." You look a little embarrassed. "It's the first time we spend time together, I didn't want to assume. Sitting here seemed like the safest choice." You ramble, making Ransom laugh as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

"I want you as close as you're comfortable being."

"Ok, hold on." You quickly get up and walk out, coming back a minute later with your duvet.

Ransom watches you come in, laughing. "What are you doing, baby doll?"

"I get cold." You shrug.

‘’A blanket wasn't good enough for you?"

"It's not as warm or as fluffy. If you don't want it, I won't share." You wrap it tightly around yourself, like a fluffy human burrito, and sit down next to him on the couch.

"No, let me in. I get cold too." He tries to poke at your side but there's too much fabric over it.

You look at him, like you're thinking about it. "Fine." You stand back up to unwrap yourself and as soon as you're done, Ransom grabs you by the hips and sits you down on his lap with your back flush against his chest.

"Is that ok?"

You nod yes, a little flustered, and cover the both of you with the duvet making sure to tuck your feet under it. You lean back against him, your body instantly drawn to his warmth, and snuggle up until you're both comfortable. Ransom's arms are around your middle, holding you close to him and he presses a single kiss on top of your shoulder.

"I'm beyond comfortable and I don't want to move but we didn't put a movie on." He points out to you after a full minute of just cuddling with you.

"Oh. Damn it." You laugh. "Hold on." You look around to find the remote and you spot it on the coffee table next to his feet. "I just need to lean over."

"Ok."

You wait a few seconds. "That means you have to let me go so that I can move." You chuckle.

"But I don't want to."

"It's 3 seconds. I'll have to get up eventually when dinner gets here." You smile, turning your head to the side to look at him.

He groans pretending to be seriously annoyed and finally removes his arms so that you can lean forward and grab the remote. As you lean back, there's a knock on your door for the second time tonight.

"Food!" You quickly untangle yourself from both the duvet and your adorably clingy soulmate, then almost run to the door.

You pay the delivery guy and take the pizzas and fries from him, closing the door with your foot. "It smells so fucking good."

You come back to the living room and Ransom's moving to the edge of the couch to get up.

"Where are you going?"

"Aren't we eating in the kitchen?"

"Oh." You look back. "I usually eat on the couch but we can eat in the kitchen." You say, slightly embarrassed that you just admitted to living a little like a slob.

"I do the same too." He laughs. "I just assumed we'd eat at a table. Girls usually aren't big on eating on couches." He sits back and watches as you put the food down on the small table in front of him.

"Sorry if you wanted a girly girl who's big on appearances. I usually prefer comfort over looks." You admit before leaving for the kitchen again and coming back shortly after with plates and napkins.

‘’You’re perfect just the way you are. I wouldn’t change anything about you.’’ He answers sincerely.

Your heart skips a few beats at his beautiful words and you can’t help but smile. ‘’Have you chosen a movie yet?’’

‘’No.’’ He laughs. He takes the remote you had tossed on the couch to go get the food and turn on your TV then Netflix. He browses for a few seconds then looks back at you. ‘’Can we watch a show instead? I’ve been wanting to watch You.’’

‘’Of course we can. Put it on.’’ You smile and hand him a plate with two pizza slices and some fries. You take your own plate and sit back next to him. ‘’Hold this please.’’ You give him your plate and wrap the duvet around your lower halves. You take back your plate and put a fry in your mouth right away. ‘’Thank you.’’

Ransom leans to the side to kiss your cheek then sits back up to start eating. There was a time when Ransom would have thought this was the lamest date ever but now it makes him beyond happy. He’s eating his favorite food with his soulmate and you’re watching a show together that he’s been wanting to see for a while, which he didn’t even need to convince you or even beg for you to agree to watch it. Now he understands when people say that it’s the simplest things in life that make you happy because sitting here with you is certainly the happiest he has been in a long time.

Once you’re both done eating you put your plates on the coffee table with the rest and lift up the duvet all the way to your shoulders.

Ransom puts his arm around your shoulders as he looks down at you. ‘’Are you cold?’’

‘’A little.’’ You admit.

He doesn’t waste time to sit you back on his lap, wrapping the duvet neatly around the both of you and then wrapping both of his arms around your middle to keep you as warm as possible. You lean back against his chest almost right away and sigh with content at your body already warming up.

‘’Thank you.’’ You put your arms on top of his, laying your hands on his while you rest the back of your head right under his shoulder.

After a few episodes, Ransom’s focus has moved away from the screen and onto you instead. It started with sweet little kisses on the side of your head from time to time then down to your cheek and finally down to your neck.

Your skin is covered in goosebumps and you laugh as it starts to tickle you. ‘’Ransom?’’

‘’Yeah baby?’’ He says against your skin.

‘’You’re not watching your show.’’

‘’I don’t feel like watching anymore.’’

You laugh again. ‘’So I can turn it off, then?’’

He hums as he brushes the tip of his nose against the side of your neck.

You turn off the TV and try to move to clean up but Ransom’s not letting you go. ‘’Stop tickling me.’’

Ransom chuckles. ‘’Sorry.’’

He pulls his head away from your neck and loosens his arms around you so that you can get up. He watches you move around the living room then to the kitchen and back. He can’t help but think that this is the kind of night he’d happily have every day. His need to be close to you has been growing incredibly strong since he arrived and he knows that it’s the bond pulling him to you, you’re probably feeling the same thing right now which only makes it harder to let go of one another.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ He asks you the next time you walk into the living room.

‘’Needy.’’ You laugh quietly. ‘’You?’’

He nods. ‘’Extra needy.’’ He admits with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grab the duvet and bunch it all up to carry it back to your room at the end of the hall. ‘’Come on.’’ You say, nodding your head for him to follow you.

Ransom quickly stands up and follows you. ‘’Where are we going?’’

‘’To get some sleep.’’

‘’You want me to stay over?’’ He asks, extremely surprised.

‘’Under two conditions.’’ You throw the duvet on top of your bed and turn to look at him. You lift your index. ‘’One, no funny business.’’ You lift your middle finger. ‘’Two, hands stay on top of the covers.’’

‘’Anything you want.’’ He grins, excited to be able to spend even more time with you.

‘’Let’s go brush our teeth, then.’’ You take his hand and lead him to your bathroom, letting go of him to look through your drawers to find a new toothbrush. ‘’Ah-ah.’’ You say triumphantly as you find one.

You hand it to Ransom who takes it out of the wrapper and you both brush your teeth in silence, glancing at each other through the mirror above the sink.

Once you're both done, you go back to your room and put the duvet back on your bed in the way it should be. You walk over to "your" side of the bed and get under the covers.

"Are you sure this is ok?" Ransom asks, hesitating to join you.

"It's ok with me if it's ok with you." You smile, looking up at him.

"It's more than ok with me." He grins.

You laugh softly and lift up the covers to allow him to get under them. You let go of them once he's comfortably settled on the bed and turn around to grab your phone to set your alarm for the next morning. After the day you've had, the last thing you need is to be late tomorrow morning. You even set it a little earlier because you have a feeling Ransom won't let you go easily. You plug in your phone and lie down facing Ransom. He quickly does the same and smiles at you.

"I'm glad you called." He says, reaching over to you and tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brushing your cheek as he pulls his hand back making your heart beat faster and a shiver go through your body.

"I'm glad you came." You say back, inching closer to him. "Who else do you know that found their soulmate?" You ask him, curiously.

"I don't think I know anyone." He strokes your cheek with his thumb as he doesn't seem to be able to stop touching you. "You?"

"My dads." You almost stop breathing in anticipation when you see him leaning in slowly.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out as a whisper but you feel like he just screamed at you instead. It's almost as if all your senses are suddenly enhanced because of how close he is to you.

You nod, not trusting your voice enough to speak.

"Can I kiss you now?" He whispers again.

"Yes." You whisper back, almost adding please.

Ransom doesn't waste any time and as soon as he gets your permission his lips are on yours, his hand on your cheek moving to the back of your neck as he tries to get as close to you as physically possible.

Your eyes close the moment you feel his breath on your lips and your whole body lits up, like tiny fireworks exploding under your skin. You put your hand on his side, holding him and gripping onto him. You're almost scared to let go and lose this feeling.

It doesn't take long before the kiss deepens, though you're not sure who made the move. You only break apart when you can no longer go without oxygen and even then you barely move back only just enough to breathe.

Ransom wets his lips and chuckles. "Wow."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks and you feel like hiding somewhere he can't look at you.

"I'm never letting you go, you know that right?" He tells you, moving to kiss your forehead.

"I hope you never do." You hide your face in the crook of his neck and move your hand from his side to his back to lay your arm across his back and hug him tightly. He does the same thing by moving his hand from the back of your neck down your back, holding you just as tightly.

You both stay like this for a while, long enough for you to start falling asleep.

Ransom can tell that you're getting sleepy just by how relaxed your body is getting, going slightly limp in his arms.

"Go to sleep, baby. You've had a big day."

He turns his head slightly to the side to be able to pepper the top of your head with kisses.

"Good night." You mumble against his skin, your eyes already closed.

"Good night." He rubs your back up and down until you're completely asleep. Only then does he close his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

Neither of you moved all night, you stayed in the exact position you had fallen asleep in just holding each other as close as possible.

Your alarm wakes you up the next morning, too early for your taste. This has probably been the best night of sleep you've had in weeks, if not months, and you would gladly take a few more hours of it.

You quickly, but carefully, pull yourself away from Ransom to turn around and turn off your alarm before you wake him up.

You sigh. You definitely don't want to get up and leave Ransom to go be yelled at by his mother, but you don't really have a choice if you want to keep your job. Sadly, you do want to keep it.

Just as you muster enough courage and motivation to get up, or at the very least sit up, an arm is thrown around you and you're being pulled back until you're flush up against Ransom's chest. He buries his head in the crook of your neck and brushes the tip of his nose against your skin.

"Tell me you aren't actually going to leave me to go spend time with my mother."

"I'm not."

You can feel him smile against your skin. "Good."

"I'm leaving you to go work for your mother, who's my boss."

"No." Ransom holds you tighter to make sure you can't leave. "You're staying here with me."

"Yeah? Are you going to call your mother to tell her that I'm not coming in and that she can't fire me?"

"Absolutely. Give me your phone."

"Ransom, I was kidding." You chuckle.

"I'm not, I'm calling her. You're staying right here."

He lifts his head and pulls away from your neck, then he reaches over you and to your nightstand to grab your phone while his other arm is still firmly around your waist. He holds your phone in front of you. "You gotta unlock it for me."

"What if I don't?"

"You really don't want to stay with me?" It almost sounds like he's pretending to be sad just to get you to do what he wants but you know he's not pretending or kidding when his hand that's holding your phone lowers until your phone's on the mattress in front of you. He lets go of you completely. "I won't keep you here against your will." He clears his throat and sits up. "I'll be gone before you're done getting ready."

You turn around, scared that he might actually leave. "No, please don't go. I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise, but I can't lose my job."

"You won't, trust me."

You hand him your phone, unlocked, and watch as he takes it.

He lies back down while holding your phone to his ear, waiting for his mom to pick up.

"What?" You hear his mom picking up, always with the warm greetings.

"Well good morning to you too, mother. Aren't you delightful at this hour?"

"What the hell do you want, Ransom?"

"Just wanted to let you know that my girl won't be coming into work today. Soulmate business."

"Oh she will come in if she wants to keep this job." She threatens.

"You and I both know you won't fire her. She's a great employee and makes you a lot of money, you've said so yourself. You're not stupid enough to throw all of it away just for one day off. You know she deserves it."

There's a long pause before she speaks again. "Fine. One day."

"Well, technically 3 because tomorrow is Saturday but yeah. Thanks. Bye Linda." Ransom hangs up and tosses your phone somewhere on the bed. "Done." He says happily as he lies back down.

"Thank you."

He turns to his side to be facing you and smiles, happy he gets to keep you all to himself for a full day. One of many days, he hopes.

For the first time since last night, you make eye contact with the other and it feels like you just got zapped with electricity. You can tell he felt it too by the look in his eyes that must be quite similar to the one in yours.

At first you're confused as to what you just felt but then you put two and two together.

"It takes hours, days even, to form a bond." Your dad's words echo in your mind. You just spent 8-10 hours with Ransom, having physical contact almost all of the time except for when you were eating.

All this time together allowed your bond to form and solidify while you were sleeping, leaving you now fully bonded to Ransom and he to you.

You both smile goofily at each other as you start really feeling the bond, and what it means, sink in.

Maybe you two might have started on the wrong foot but that is all long forgotten now that you're about to spend the rest of your lives loving each other.

You've never felt this serene and relaxed before, but this is just a peek at what your feelings are going to be like from now on.

You feel it in your heart, your mind, your bones and your soul; You are, and always will be, Ransom's.

@n3ssm0nique | @lover-of-bucky | @beingagodsucks | @littlemissthistle | @dancer3205 | @thatblondebrownie | @rainbowkisses31 | @benbarnesbussy | @emi11ie | @rogersdrysdalebarber | @broadwaybabe18

[change-the-world-someday]

I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

[softprincesso]

✨HOW TO BECOME A WEALTHY MIDDLE-AGED MAN✨

PT.2: Overview to understanding different saving/retirement methods, investments, and forms of income

2.1 Savings and Retirement

Welcome lovelies to (what I hope will be) a helpful series on gaining wealth and becoming financially literate and independent!

*disclaimer: while this advice can generally apply to many it will not apply to all. Everyone is in a different situation and should do their own research before they take what ANYONE says as fact or law. This is also coming from the perspective of a young, biracial, first generation female business student following a hypergamous lifestyle and who does sw so some advice may be specific to my like-minded ladies, but for the most part I just love money and want to help others find joy in their wallets as well. I am also operating in the US so things regarding accounts, stocks, and certain laws will vary by your country. Also, this is just a fun thing I wanted to do because talking about leveling up and learning and growing and money are my favorite past times. None of these pictures are mine, however I am using some links which may compensate me in some way, but I only used links which were mutually beneficial and would help you gain something as well, they are still just actual sources I use for myself.

✨THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND✨

Financial independence is different than financial confidence.

Financial Independence: “The most common sense of the term is that someone has enough wealth to live as they wish for the rest of their life without having to work.” -Investopedia https://www.investopedia.com/financial-edge/0611/declare-your-own-financial-independence-day.aspx

Financial Confidence: “We define financial confidence as having three aspects,” says Miler. “The first is awareness of how money can be a tool for helping you reach your goals and dreams. The second is financial literacy and understanding economic factors. The third is trust and knowing where to turn for financial advice.” -Forbes https://www.forbes.com/sites/shelleyzalis/2018/06/16/women-money-8-steps-for-growing-your-financial-confidence/?sh=2175b65e2468

While the ultimate goal is financial independence, financial confidence should be the main focus. I’ll give an example why. Imagine there are two people: Rhonda and Jill. Both of them like nice things, love to shop, and participate in the occasional splurge. Rhonda works a regular 9-5 and has a decent salary. She doesn’t have much financial knowledge (translation: financial confidence), but she has a savings account at her local bank and puts a couple hundred into retirement each year and she thinks that's enough. Suddenly, Rhonda wins the lottery. Overnight she has become a millionaire, so she quits her job, moves to LA, and goes on to live life to the fullest. She would now be considered financially independent. However, Rhonda has no idea how to manage all that money. She puts a small amount into that bank savings account and takes the rest to do what she will. One day she tries her luck at a casino, in less than five hours she has lost all of her money and has to start back at square one with no job, only a few thousand to get her through, and no-good way to explain to employers that she just wasted the last 5 years spending money on handbags she now has to sell at a depreciated value. (BTW you would not last not working with only a million dollars in LA for that long)

Now, let’s look at Jill. Jill is an independent contractor and has a relatively steady income. She knows very little about finances, but she actively learns how to manage what she has and keeps up to date on the latest money news. The day that Rhonda won the lottery was just another Thursday for Jill, the only unique point for her was that she opened a savings accounts with a high APY (we’ll say 1%) and put in $5000.00. A little later she also opened a Roth IRA and puts in the maximum yearly allowance of $6000.00. Along the way she opened a brokerage account of her own and started trading in the stock market along with investing in real estate which has given her some extra income to play with each year. Unfortunately, another housing crash occurs, and all of the money Jill invested into real estate is gone. However, since Jill learned the skills behind her choices early on, she is knowledgeable and understands the ups and downs of the market and how to invest her money in other places in the meantime. And, that High yield savings account accrued around $50 more without her doing anything and she has that to fall back on, or worst case she can take out part of her principal Roth IRA contribution. 10 years from now Jill should start to see a steady increase in her Roth IRA that by retirement will be a little over 1 million and she should be comfortable and invested enough into stocks that she gains around $200-1000 extra each month.

I think you understand why you want to be Jill.

✨HAVING ADEQUATE SAVINGS = BEING YOUR OWN LIFEGUARD✨

As discussed in Pt.1 the first goal you should achieve is securing an emergency fund that could sustain you for a couple of months if things were to ever hit the fan, and starting a retirement fund should be in your top 5 goals to complete. The saying, “the rich get richer” is popular for a reason. Wealthy people know how to make their money work for them instead of them having to work for money. An easy way anyone can do the same is by opening the right accounts for your savings and retirement.

Savings: 

All of your savings should be in a high yield saving account or split between different high yield accounts. This is an account which will reward you some interest every period for having money in your account with them. This is incredibly easy to do. You can either research/ask your bank about their high yield accounts or do some googling to find some other bank. Then transfer your money and there you go! When looking at banks understand that the highest Annual Percent Yields (APY), or the interest they will reward you, are going to be from online banks because they have less operational costs than a brick and mortar, but they will also come with their own disadvantages, like less ATMs to access or the inability to use when outside of your country so make sure to look into that. IMPORTANT: Make sure that whatever bank you choose is FDIC-insured so if the bank were to ever collapse or lose your money you have insurance up to $250,000.This won't generate a lot of extra cash, but an extra $20 every year is better than $0.

Retirement:

These accounts usually go by your current situation and what you see for your future.

401K: Probably the most known (I believe it’s only in the States but there might be something close to it in other countries) and that’s just because this is what employers usually offer if they offer anything. It is a retirement fund that your employer will set up and you can predefine how much of your paycheck you want to automatically go into it every time. Sometimes, the employers will also have a match program, and if they do you better max out the money they will contribute because that is FREE money! Most advice that I have seen has said to really only focus on this fund if your employer has that match program, otherwise I would focus on one of the accounts below. https://www.investopedia.com/articles/retirement/08/401k-info.asp

IRA: An IRA stands for Individual Retirement Account. There are three kinds…

                         Traditional: This IRA lets you put in pre-tax money and lets it grow tax-free until you make a withdrawal. Once you make the withdrawal that money is taxed at the current rate of your income at the time. Your contributions are tax deductible so you can write them off of your taxable income of that year. There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                          Roth: With this IRA your contributions are taxed, but when you withdrawal money later on it is tax free. For those of you in a lower tax bracket than you believe you will be in the future, this IRA makes the most sense as you will pay less taxes now than you will when you are 59 ½ (The official age of retirement in the States). There are limits to how much you can contribute depending on your income, status, and whether you have another retirement fund as well.

                           SEP: Simplified Employee Pension. This is also an employer-based plan and may also work better for my self-employed gals out there. I don’t really know a lot on this one so I’ll just leave a link you can look into if it interests you: https://www.investopedia.com/ask/answers/102714/how-does-simplified-employee-pension-sep-ira-work.asp

You can have both a traditional and Roth IRA as long as you are eligible for both. Anyone with earned income (with a job or can prove a steady income) can contribute to a Traditional IRA, however with a Roth IRA, as a single you can earn up to $139,000 and contribute. Personally, if you are just getting started with all of this just set up one IRA and as you learn more you can take steps to get another or switch accounts.

https://www.investopedia.com/retirement/roth-vs-traditional-ira-which-is-right-for-you/

There are a plethora of other accounts, but they are more specialized and the top four should get you started on the right path to saving for retirement. I’m guessing that the majority of the audience reading these are women between the ages of 20-30. Trust me when I say that I love to spend money as much as the next girl, but I also would like to be completely comfortable should anything happen in my older years that screws up my marriage or job, and no one is going to secure that for you.

Also, I’m sorry this is so US-based, but once again it is all I know. I believe IRAs are more widespread than a 401K, but all that takes to find out is a Google search on your part.

Either way, make sure you have a plan going into 2021 for your savings and retirement because this economic whirlwind is far from over and there is always a chance for another recession, depression, or disaster. (Wow O, way to keep the mood light)

This was getting way too long with the investments added so look out for Pt.2.2 on the overview for investments (where the actual fun begins and I can stop being such a stick in the mud)…

VOCAB TO KNOW/RESEARCH:

Financial independence

Financial Confidence

APY

Roth IRA

brokerage account

High yield savings account

principal

401K

Traditional IRA

Once again… if in these posts I ever give bad advice, F- something up, or am just generally ignorant PLEASE call me out! Remember that just like you I am a young woman figuring everything out and while I am confident when talking about money, I am by no means a genius (only in spurts) so any chance to learn I appreciate. I hope you all learned something new today and as always…

With Love,

O

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 10:

“Hey, Bakugou.” You greet easily, waving at him. “Can you believe it?”

“Jesus- what the hell are you on about now?”

“Nothing. Just, this marks the third time I’ve seen you without injury. Good on you buddy, setting a personal record and everything.”

He huffs, pushing off the wall. Bakugou is without his costume, clad in just normal sweats. The sight makes you feel a little bad- it was obviously his day off, but there he was working. Sacrificing his time for you.

“Fuck you.” He grumbles, without any bite. “Seriously. Fuck you.”

“C’mon, grumpy, don’t get so huffy.” You say playfully. “I was mostly joking, but I did mean it. I think I like you a whole lot better when there’s no blood involved.”

He starts to smile, just for a second, before he quickly evens his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that it was there at all, quickly spinning around and starting off at a brisk pace. 

“Woah, slow down, no need to run, speedy. I’ll take it back if you’re so allergic to me being nice.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, but he does slow down. Just minutely. Hardly even at all if you really think about it, but hey, at least you’re not basically running after him anymore.

“What’s got you so cheery, hah?” He asks after a beat, making an intentional point not to make eye contact. “It’s late- you’re not tired again?”

His tone catches you off-guard, something accusatory underneath that has you scrunching your nose. You’re not exactly sure what he’s getting at, but you can read his prickly tone for what it is- Bakugou is making fun of you. 

“No. I’m actually not tired, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“You know, that sentence from anyone else would offend me- but from you?” You scoff, squinting your eyes at him. “Well, I’m sure it was meant as an insult, not an insinutation; so I’ll refrain from calling you a pig. For now.”

“Call me anything and see where it gets ya, leech.”

“What’re you gonna do? Fight me?”

“Please, it wouldn’t be a fight.” He snorts, kicking at a rock in the road. It flies down the alley, all the way past the streetlamp’s glow. “See? I’d slaughter you.” 

“Yes! Probably!" You say in faux exasperation. "But it’s because you have way more practice at slaughtering people! I don’t know why you’re bragging about that- that’s totally not something normal people brag about!”

You throw your hands up, gesturing wildly, and Bakugou just sort of watches you. Doesn’t really react other than to evade one of your errant hands. You just barely miss him, the tips of your fingers clipping the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“What- nothing? You’ve got nothing to say about that? Course you don’t- because you’re proud of slaughtering people. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m proud of winning.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough.” He shrugs. “'Sides, it’s not my fault I wasn’t listenin’. Ya said so many damn words to me.”

“That’s so rude! You-“

Seeing his smile, you cut yourself off half-way. It should hardly even count as a smile, really, it’s much more of a smirk- something entirely self-indulgent and dripping with arrogance. You’re not sure if you wanna punch him in the mouth or giggle.

“You jerk. You’re messing with me!” On impulse, you knock your shoulders into his. Bakugou doesn’t flinch- nor does he budge whatsoever. “You’re just being mean on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Course.”

“Why? Just, I don’t know, be nice?”

“Fuck that. No thanks.”

“You incredibly rude- you know that?”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying.” He retorts, knocking his shoulders into yours. Bakugou smirks when you stumble. “See- I’d murder you in a fight.”

“No one was debating that!”

He just bites his lip, throwing his head back. It’s like Bakugou is trying to hide his smile; exposing the strong column of his throat to you, pale skin gone 10 shades of gold under the streetlamp.

It steals the breath from your lungs- how devastatingly beautiful he can be. You have to tear your eyes away.

“Hey, Bakugou, it’s your day off right?”

He eyes you a little strangely. “Yes? Why?”

“Geez- Don’t be so suspicious.” You laugh. “I only asked because I was curious.”

“The hell you have to be curious about?”

“Just what you’d be doing right now otherwise- you know, if you weren’t stuck walking me-“

“‘m not stuck. Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, but still.” You take a breath. “What I mean, is that, I’m sorry if this is burdening you. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to do on your day off.”

He eyes you, sniffing for a moment while he juts his chin out. “Eh- it’s fine. Walking this far outta my way is good excercise anywa-“

“This far? Oh my god- are you serious? Where do you live?”

“Far enough.”

“Bakugou.” You say sternly, staring him down. You’re well aware he’s not a man who’s easily scolded into revealing the truth, but damn if you weren’t going die trying. “Seriously- how far?”

“Fuck’s it matter to you for?”

“Because it just does! Now, c’mon really, I’m gonna feel like, super bad if you say you’ve gotta take a train her-“

“No train, so quit bitching.” He scans the street for a moment, before turning back to look at you. “Not that far. Half an hour, maybe, if I was running.”

“If you were running? What about walkin-“

“Not walking so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!”

“It fuckin’ doesn’t-“

Then he’s standing ram-rod straight, slapping an open palm over your stomach and pushing you back. You’re flying back into the shadows, back slamming against the brick wall. Gasping, air knocked clean out of your lungs, it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open and watch him leave.

Bakugou hardly even looks back before he’s soaring past the end of the alley, explosions igniting under his palms. There’s no one, all is quiet, silent and tense and then- bam.

A mottled mass of muscles and pulsating flesh barrels through the building beside Bakugou. Debris rains down onto the street, down onto the exact spot you were standing moments ago. The flying detrius knocks Bakugou off course, and the blonde hardly dodges before the creature is slinging fists his way.

“Shouldn’t’a been makin’ such a scene!” Bakugou is all smirks and haughty confidence, seamlessly twisting and dodging the creature’s strikes. “Gave yourself away- I’ve got you now!”

Even breathless and winded, you can’t help but stare. Bakugou truly is something else- a terrifying bullet in the air, bordering on frenetic as he dodges. He’s so fast you’re worried he’ll catch fire. There’s a reckless sort of smile on his face, stretching his lips back around canines you’re sure are sharper than before. He’s throws his left palm out, explosion recoil throwing him just past the creature’s next attack. It’s enough of an opening for Bakugou to surge in, flashbang fingertips making contact with the beast’s abdomen.

“Really, that’s all?” He challenges, grinning like mad when the beast flies back from the impact. “No strategy at all? That’s not gonna fuckin’ work!”

And then he looks back at you, just for a singular moment, while the beast is bent over from his previous blow. The sight nearly knocks the air out of your lungs all over again.

Bakugou is terrifying. Manic and bloodthirsty and feverish almost, chest heaving with every labored breath. There’s something wild in his eyes, coloring his features in blood that hasn’t even been spilled yet. It’s intimidating and scary and overwhelming, but he’s dazzling too. A crazed smile, so blinding and brilliant, that it leaves an after-image long after he’s blasted away again.

Something snaps in you then, and you’re diving behind the nearest dumpster. It’s a little gross and cramped, but you hear plaster cracking around you, and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore. Your eyes are wide, watching the battle- and even when hidden it still feels too close.

Your heart is trapped in your throat, a battering ram even as you try to catch your breath. Everything is loud, and chaotic, and you’ve never been this close to a real battle before. It scares you. You clasp your hands around your ears, trying to block out the gargling and explosions. It’s not enough, your breath still picking up as explosion impact rattles the asphalt beneath your feet.

“You’re done!” You hear him shout, and suddenly the air goes white and hot, and bright.

You screw your eyes shut, and bite back a scream as an explosion rattles every surrounding window. The sound swallows everything, and the light show is even worse. Even through your eyelids it’s blazing. Bright enough to have you diving to the ground and tucking your head between your knees.

Then it’s quiet. Complete silence other than the ringing in your ears. You hear impact, a warbled groan, and then the sound of his voice.

“You fucker.” He roars. “I’m fuckin’ busy, you weak bitch, can’t ya fuckin’ see that?”

Another thud. Another groan.

“All this shit for some cash? Just get a job, you fuckin’ loser. Like the goddamn rest of us.”

You peak your head over the dumpster, and see Bakugou standing tall over the collapsed body. You’re not entirely sure how the villian’s quirk operates, but the mass of flesh is deflating by the second, leaving behind a skinny mess of bones and sinew.

“A front, hah? Pathetic.” Bakugou sneers, grinding his teeth before he snaps. “On your fuckin’ feet weakling- ‘m taking you in.”

Bakugou hauls the skinny man to his feet, trapping rail-thin arms tight to the man’s back. It’s only then that you choose to emerge, staggering slighty on your shaking legs. It’s like you’ve got tremors- your body practically bowled over by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“H-help- I didn’t-“ The skinny man starts, before Bakugou is sending a knee into the base of his spine.

“Don’t speak to her, you shit-stain.” Bakugou curls his lip. “Shut the hell up.”

You’re not really sure what to do then- caught between wanting to high-tail it in the complete opposite direction, and surging towards Bakugou. Because, if you weren’t certain before, you definitely were now; Bakugou knew what he was doing. And if worst ever came to worst, he’d stay true to all his threats. Nobody was getting to you while he was around.

“Follow. C’mon.” Bakugou nods towards the end of the street. “Police station. You know where it is. Let’s get the hell to it already.”

You just start walking- almost on autopilot. There’s a weird fuzz settling in your brain, the adrenaline seeping and leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. It’s disorienting because you weren’t even part of the fight- Bakugou had shoved you back long before you could have ever been in any real danger.

You’re not sure how he knew- how he could have possibly predicted the villain coming through the wall, but even still, you’re gratetful. Because you’re not hurt, only frazzled where you would’ve been massacred without him there.

Bakugou waits for you to pass him by, and only once you’re a good few steps ahead, does he start shoving his prisoner forward. The walk is tense and silent, the only noise being the occasional pained groan from the skinny man. There’s an undeniable air of intimidation coming from Bakugou, rolling off his skin and permeating every spare inch of air. It only adds more stress to an already harrowing situation.

The police station lies just where you remembered it, but you’ve never been this close before. You’d only seen it down the end of the street as you passed by- only through the fuzzy haze of exhaustion after your shift ended. Now there’s nothing hazy about it- just a stark white building and big glass doors. Big glass doors that Bakugou is surging through, prisoner in tow, and ordering you to stay behind.

When he’s through the door, it’s like your heart finally starts to catch up. You can feel it’s thud slow against you ribs, no longer jumping at every slight sound. You eyelids feel heavy, further weighed down by the headache you feel coming on. You lean against the wall of the station, bending slightly at the waist as you ground the heels of your palm against your temple.

“All good?” You hear his voice some time later, Bakugou’s footsteps heavy as he approaches. “You get hurt?”

“No- ‘m fine.” You chew your cheek, straightening as you look up at him. “I think.”

He studies you for a moment, red eyes flitting across your face. Bakugou grimaces. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah. Was scared.”

“It’s fine now.” He huffs, frustration lacing his features. Bakugou clenches his hand, releases, and repeats twice over before he speaks again. “Got ‘em already, so you can chill the hell out now. Alright?”

“Yeah- yeah sure.”

You try to agree, but your voice doesn’t sound right when it leaves your throat. It’s a little too hoarse, empty of almost all inflection. You’re not particularly pleased with it and Bakugou is even less so.

“You need a few minutes or something?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like even asking the question pains him. “Need to call somebody?”

Bakugou looks incredibly uncomfortable- eyes shifting around wildly and refusing to settle. All of his battlefield-confidence, even that self-assured smirk seems to have disappeared entirely. He huffs a pained breath and leans back against the wall next to you. His shoulders are just barely touching yours, voice pinched and tense when he speaks.

“I know it’s loud- but it’s over now. Now you just go home, and you sleep. Nothing is gonna happen to you.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilts his head skyward. He grinds his teeth, once, twice, and smooths out his grimace. “And I’ll fuckin’ be there so don’t go spiraling about it, alright? You’re safe now.”

You nod, rolling your lips together for a moment. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even attempting to, but you can’t help but stare. Can’t help but track all the lines of his face; the way his nose slopes, and the set of his eyebrows. He doesn’t look like before. Not crazed, or manic, or brutal. He’s just Bakugou. Maybe a little grumpy, but mostly just uncomfortable- exactly the way you’ve come to know him.

Something in you settles at bit at that.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go." You kick off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm more than ready to be home."

Bakugou just watches you, and you can see him reach a hand out before immediately dropping it. His lip curls up in disgust- and that just confuses you. You wonder where the Bakugou from a few minutes ago went; the one who seemed so entirely sure of himself.

"Faster." He says, overtaking you in one long stride. "Stallin' around at night is never a good idea."

You suppose he's right, but you never would've believed him before.

Prior to tonight, you had never been a part of a villain attack. You hadn't even seen a villain on anything other than TV re-runs. Your neighborhood was quiet, the streets never holding any danger, even at night. Now, though, every shadow seems suspicious, every sound a precursor for something far worse. Your well aware you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, but that didn't make the reality any easier to handle. If Bakugou hadn't been there, if he hadn't show up dead on your balcony months ago, then you would've been gravely injured by all that falling debris.

The thought makes you feel weak all over again. Has your fingers curling in your gloves- itchy and uncomfortable and helpless.

You're quiet as you walk, caught up in a million spiraling thoughts. Bakugou doesn't seem keen on conversation either, keeping a few paces ahead and scanning for other danger. Occasionally he'll turn back, check to make sure you're following, and all you can really offer is a nod and a shaky sort of smile. It doesn't satisfy him at all- you can see that every time he sets his jaw.

"Oi- Leech." He snaps in front of your eyes, waving his hand back and forth. "It's- stop lookin' like that already. All freaked the fuck out. You look ridiculous."

His haughty tone as your blood warming, fingers clenching at your sides as you walk. You're not sure what reaction he's after, but all you can really think to do is get angry.

"I am freaked out! You were there! You saw that guy! He was huge!" You snap, squinting your eyes and waving your hands around. "If you weren't- I- what am I supposed to do when that shit happens? Huh? I can't fight, and even if I could I wouldn't, so what am I supposed to-"

"Nothing." He interrupts. "You do nothing, and you hide. Like you did."

"Yes, because you pushed me! If you hadn't I would've been crushed by all that- and how on Earth did you even know he was coming?"

"Vibrations. In the ground." He squints at you, a little confused. "Did you not-"

"No!"

"Damn," He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You really couldn't feel that? Jesus, you really are clueless. No wonder you were so freaked out."

In that moment, you're a little sure you could strangle him. All his skill you'd seen earlier suddenly didn't matter at all, and you were sure you could take him down with nothing but rage alone.

He- vibrations? You didn't feel anything! You felt nothing and even if you had, you would've assumed it was an earthquake. No one except for him and his battle-addled brain would've ever assumed it was a villain of all things!

"Calm down," He seems to be fighting a smile, lip twitching up. "You look fuckin' ridiculous right now. 'm not scared of you, leech."

"You should be! I'm about to strangle you right now-"

"For what?"

"For- for- I don't know! You just make me so angry with your 'Oh, you didn't feel that?' bullshit!" You tilt your voice lower, coating it in gravel to mimic him. "Of course I didn't feel anything! I'm not like you- I don't have freaky super-human instincts and explosions and I can't just go fight somebody!"

True to his word, your outburst doesn't seem to scare him. If anything if seems to pull the smile from him more, lips pulling back into a grin even he has no chance of hiding.

"There she is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, falling back a little to walk right beside you. "Thought you'd gone into shock or somethin'."

"So you- on purpose?"

"Said that shit about vibrations? Yeah." His smile turns wolfish, all sharp canines and pink gums. "There were no fuckin' vibrations, idiot. I heard the plaster cracking."

In that moment you're the surest you've ever been- you were going to murder Bakugou Katsuki.

"You dick!"

Your hands are out before you can stop them, shoving forcefully at his side. He just looks at you, rolling his eyes, and then decides to let you tip him sideways off the curb. It's the worst kind of victory- a pity one that he let you have.

"Chill out, already." He laughs. "Only said shit so you'd stop bein' all miserable. You should be fuckin' thankin' me."

"I'm not thanking you!"

He steps forward, one long stride eclipsing you entirely. Then he spins, facing you with another crooked grin, and you're digging your heels into the cement to avoid crashing directly into his chest.

"I said-" He starts, hands in his pockets and leaning forward until he's practically towering over you. "You should be thanking me."

His voice is low, sly and challenging as he grins. He looks positively predatory- but attractive too. The worst kind that leaves your heart stuttering in your chest for almost no discernable reason.

"G-get away from me." You fluster, taking a step back. "I'm not thanking you."

He shrugs, falling back to a safe distance. You don't miss it though- the way his grin goes just a little wider, entirely satisfied. He won, and he knows it.

"Suit yourself, then leech." He says, voice light. "If ya wanna mouth off so much, then 'm not fuckin' saving you next time."

He says the words, but you're almost entirely sure he doesn't mean them. Not with the way he is now- beaming and pleased under the moonlight. You wonder if he always gets like this; so happy just after a victory. It's the kind of sight that almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.

You walk through the doors of your apartment, shuddering a long sigh of relief. The walls feel safe, security and peace etched into familiar walls. Even with Bakugou stomping behind you, the serenity isn't disturbed all that much. He's still in his rare good mood apparently, and he doesn't even grumble whatsoever.

Truth be told, you're still a little shaken, but the interior of your apartment puts you at ease. Even if you don't feel nearly as infallible as before, home is a good feeling- it always is.

"You know- you know that you just got unlucky, right?" Bakugou seems to struggle for a moment, kicking the door shut behind him. "It's- that's- shit like that doesn't usually happen here."

You're not sure where his sentiment is headed, and he must see it on your face. He flares his nostrils, sighing something long-suffering and dramatic.

"I'm sayin'- that wasn't part of anything else. It was just the one idiot, so it's not any more dangerous here than it used to be. 'm sayin' don't waste your time worryin' about that shit."

Something in you warms a bit- just a fraction. You're not sure how he knew, how he always seems to know just what you're thinking, but at this moment you don't care to find out. There are some comforts better left experienced instead of studied- and you figure this might be one of them.

You smile, something soft and fond. "I take it back- I will thank you. So thank you. I'm sure I'd be a lot worse off if you weren't around."

You watch him fluster, watch him itch in his skin and shift his weight around. Eventually he settles on turning his back, moving towards your fridge as he speaks.

"Probably. You froze up completely- woulda been piss poor job performance to let you get killed." He's swinging the fridge door open, and the white light just makes it more apparent- his cheeks are pink. "Got ice packs in here somewhere?"

"I-Ice packs?"

"Yeah. Knuckles are gonna bruise up if I don't ice 'em."

You look a little closer then, at his fingers curled around the handle of your fridge. His knuckles are a little swollen, bruised up and red where the skin had split. It doesn't look too bad, much less serious than any other injury he'd come to you with, but that doesn't change the itching in your own fingers. You want to help him- now more than ever it seems.

"Shit- sorry." You breathe out, nearing a little to get a closer look. "I was so freaked I didn't even think about asking- are you okay? You're okay, right? Nothing else, no bones or blood or-"

"Calm down. 'm fine."

You look at him again, squinting for eyes for a moment. He just rolls his own, extending his arms out and flipping them. He was telling the truth- there's only one other scratch on him, and even that was already scabbed over. The only issue were his knuckles- and that sets you at ease.

"You want me to wrap them for you?" You ask, looking up at him. "Oh wait- actually, you'd probably want to do that yourself, huh? Since you're not on the brink of death this time and actual-"

"You do it."

"Huh?"

"I said- you do it." He won't meet your eyes, turning back to your fridge and opening it up once more. He makes himself right at home, grabbing one of the water bottles off the shelf without asking. "Did it all the other times, so you do it. Don't think you're gonna get away with cuttin' corners on me."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, that I know you find it annoying when I'm all fussy so I just-"

"Shut up already. You continuing to run your mouth is the only thing that's annoying me right now."

You're about to retort, something offended and assuredly juvenile, but you decide against it. That night had been filled with far too much conflict for your liking, and you weren't about to incite more of it. If he wanted you to wrap his knuckles, then you'd wrap his knuckles. You figured it's the least you could do for him.

Turning your back on him, you start for the bathroom, and the first aid kit inside. A part of you considers just permanently moving the kit into the kitchen, but that sort of seems like you're just inviting more misfortune. You keep hoping that one day you'll stop having to patch Bakugou up at all, but from the looks of it, that isn't likely. Not even a little bit considering his obvious bloodlust.

"You wanna-" You start, walking back into the kitchen. You're shocked into stillness by the sight of him searching through your cupboards. "Um, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hungry."

"Okay, caveman, I just- you're not seriously trying to cook right now are you?" You near him, hands hovering in the air. You're sure he wouldn't appreciate it, but a large part of you just wants to grab at his shoulders and shove him away from everything. "Stop that- lemme get you fixed up first. Then I can call for something. I'm not gonna let you exert yourself any more than you already have."

Bakugou seems a little perturbed by that, whipping his head around until you can see wild red eyes. You almost sigh; what you wouldn't give for him to just chill out for once.

"I'm not saying you can't cook. You probably could, I don't know." You near a little more, dropping the first aid kit onto the countertop. "I'm saying, you've already done enough today, and you deserve to take it easy. So let me help you by wrapping your hands up. That's all."

Bakugou's in the midst of another internal struggle, before he visibly forgoes it. His shoulder's drop and the tension leaks until he's settling into one of your dining chairs. He sets his hands out on the table, clearing his throat at you until you kick into motion.

At this point, cleaning up his hands is practically a daily chore. You've gone through the motions more than enough times to be adjusted, but even still, his hands still freak you out a little. You'd never seen anyone who radiated so much heat- even just being next to him was like sitting in front of an open flame.

Your fingers are gentle, skidding over his hands with feather-light touches. He seems to slump in his chair, eventually just laying his head on the outstretched arm you weren't actively working on. He watches you closely the entire time though, red eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"Do it again." He says. "Too loose. Do it again."

You're half-way through wrapping his right hand, only a small amount of bandage left. Not only would you have to do the bandage over entirely, but you'd have to unwrap it completely first.

"You always say that," You mutter, exasperation coloring your voice. "What makes it so much better the second time around, huh? I do it the exact same."

"It's just better. Takes longer."

You're not really sure what he means by that, and Bakugou doesn't look all that thrilled that he said the words at all. He jumps in his chair, cheeks gone pink as he digs his face into the skin of his arm. He's hiding.

It strikes you as even but odd, but you shrug off the strangeness all the same. You're getting far too used to his particular brand of bizarre.

"All better now?" You goad, patting the bandage after you've finished re-wrapping. "Everything feel nice and perfect for Prince Bakugou?"

He lifts his head. "You're not funny."

"You always say that too. But it's okay, I know one day you'll finally come around and appreciate me."

He just laughs under his breath, but he smiles too. Grins something tiny and small that he hides in his shoulder.

You start finishing up his other hand, and Bakugou doesn't say anything otherwise. He just sits, resting his head on his arm, and watching you intently. He's all calm and even breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. You'd thought him adrenaline-crazed earlier, but it seemed he was coming off of that high rapidly. You could feel the exhaustion too- almost lulled by your movements just as much as he was.

You start gathering away all of your materials, and he doesn't even move. Just sits in perfect stillness at your table.

"I- I didn't accidentally touch you right? That's not why you're like that?" You ask, smothering a yawn. "Super exhausted, I mean."

He shakes his head. "Nah. Normal tired. Didn't fuck up this time, leech."

You don't have it in you to respond, hardly even rolling your eyes at his remark. His jabs don't hold much bite anymore- you begin to wonder if he's actually getting nicer or if you're just growing a ridiculous tolerance.

You brush off the thought, pushing away from your table and rising from the chair. "You still hungry?"

"Yeah. Wanna sleep first though so don't worry about it."

"Okay; well, I'm definitely going to so-"

"I said don't." He supplies evenly, finally sitting up in his seat. "It's fine. 'm not fuckin' starvin' or anything."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

His insistence sells you, but you're not sure if it's because you actually believe him or because you just want to. Either way, you figure it doesn't matter much in the end, not to the way your limbs are quickly bowing to exhaustion. You feel the fatigue settling in, and you'd like to blame that for your next actions.

"C'mon then, sleep time, I guess." You say.

Then you cross the kitchen, passing behind him, dropping your hand on his shoulder. You hardly let it sit, just running your thumb over his shirt once, twice, and then continuing on your way.

He takes several seconds to finally follow you into the living room. Enough to have you looking back in confusion, unable to understand why he looked so very stunted where he still sat.

"Jesus, you're annoying." He finally grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

His steps are loud as he crosses the room, stopping just a few inches in front of you. He grabs at your arm, raising your wrist himself and plucking the glove off in one fluid grab. It if wasn't so sudden an action- so ridiculous and fast and borderline violent, you might have even been flustered.

As it was though, he just grabbed your wrist before you could really register it.

Familiar warmth floods your veins. The same burning, slow heat that makes it;s way through each vein and artery. You think maybe your knuckles ache a little bit too, but it's too hard to tell through your quickly increasing sleep fog.

Bakugou lets you go pretty quick, falling back on your couch in almost the same moment.

"Better?" You ask, mirth warming your words. "Had to do it yourself because I was taking too long?"

"No, 'cause you pissed me off."

"Doing what?"

"You know what you're fuckin' doing."

Then he's grabbing the blanket, settling it over himself gracelessly while he flops over. He's face-first into the cushions now, effectively ending the conversation in much the way he typically does- by refusing to engage entirely.

You just roll your eyes a litItle fondly, still not even beginning to understand.

/-/

ooooo boy i am so sorry y'all for this late uPDATe,,, pls i usually update my fics way faster than this but sometimes life rlly just do be happenin lmaoooooo

n e wayz, ty for reading and supporting my work!! y'all are the absolute best i could ever ask for!!!

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Informant (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Flirting, mentions of voyeurism(?), drinking, hangovers. 

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: Bit more background this week, not that exciting but some fun moments with Javi and Steve. Alternative title: Meeting your killer and flirting with the boss ENJOY

<-- Previous Chapter  // MasterList //  Next Chapter -->

---

Two months passed quickly and you were settled in well. You were comfortable in your job; you, Javi and Steve made a great team and you were learning a lot from the both of them. You tried to avoid interacting with Carrillo directly where possible, he was still as icy about you as your first meeting. You met Steve’s wife, Connie, and became fast friends with her. She had become one of your closest friends, and a welcome break from the machismo that radiated from your two teammates.

You had even managed to make a few friends outside of work. You met María Parreño at the cafe you visited nearly everyday for lunch. What started out as a little wave, now was lunch together nearly everyday, and the occasional shopping trip at the weekend. María was a sweet girl, funny and very sly when she wanted to be. 

You were careful, giving a fake name and lying about your job. You could never be too careful in Colombia. Plus, with how rich her family were you wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed paths with one of them during your investigation into Escobar’s dealings. So, Maria knew you as Isabela Serrano, you worked in the American embassy on the phones. You had lived in the USA for ten years, hence the accent, and moved back to Medellin after your abuela died. María didn’t take much convincing. 

You enjoyed her company. It was a lot nicer to have a conversation about books you’d both been reading over nice food, than trying to eat over photos of blood crime scenes. Plus, the coffee here didn’t taste like soap. 

“Isabela, can I tell you something,” María turned to you, set her cutlery down and looked over at you seriously.. Puzzled, you put down your drink and smiled.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” 

“Diego got a new job,” 

Diego was María’s boyfriend. Her father’s mechanic. A total cliché, her father had forbidden them to date but she did it anyway just to piss him off. You didn’t know much about Diego, you’d only met him once or twice in passing when he came to pick his girlfriend up  from a shopping trip. 

“You’re saying that like it's something scandalous,” You laughed nervously, “What? Has he become a stripper?”

“He’s working for Escobar,” She whispered. 

“What?” You nearly choked your coffee in shock. You set it down on the table carefully and leant in a little to listen to her, not believing what she said. It was not an impossible thing, lots of people worked for him in lots of different capacities. You hadn’t expected it so close to home.

“I know! That’s what I said!” She said, “He came home the other night saying he got this new job doing something for Pablo! I said Pablo who, I know lots of Pablo’s. The man just looked at me like I was an idiot! Pablo fucking Escobar!”

“What does he do?” You asked, you had to know how dangerous this could be for you. Or how helpful this could be, you thought. Being close to someone close to Escobar could be invaluable.

“Escobar?” Maria asked.

“No! What does Diego do for him?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “He said something to do with cars,” You relaxed a little at that. Escobar’s mechanic was not a very useful lead. 

You glanced down at your watch and sighed. Your hour was up. Just as you had got to something useful! 

“Shoot I’m sorry María I’ve got to head back to work,” You drank down the last of your coffee quickly and stood up. “But you’ll keep me updated with this Escobar business right? It’s just all so exciting!” You put down your share of the bill on the table and threw on your jacket.

“Of course!” María smiled, “One of Diego’s friends is having a party! You should come!”

“I’ll be there,” You nodded, “Same time Saturday?”

“See you then!” 

Before you left the café you bought two coffees to go for Murphy and Pena as a way of apology for being late back. You had promised to be out less than an hour as Pena had important things he needed to go over with you and Murphy. By the time you got back, he had already started explaining the new information to Murphy in a conference room.

“Then we have-,” Javi was speaking as you walked in carrying coffee for the two men. You instantly recognised the face in the photograph and interrupted him.

“Diego Castillo,” You said. The two men turned to you, confused. Unfazed you passed them  the cups and sat down next to Murphy on the end of the table.

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked. 

“I know him. Or rather his girlfriend,” 

“What?” Steve nearly choked on his drink at your confession.  

“I didn’t think I had to tell y’all everything I do in my spare time,” You laughed.

“Hanging out with Narcos would have good to tell us,” 

“He’s not a Narco, he fixes Escobar’s cars! He’s not anyone important. It’s chill,” You waved him off. He was being ridiculous, ”Besides I’m friends with his girlfriend who has no idea what’s going on. I’ve met him maybe twice” You explained, “María’s a sweetheart, we talk about romance novels and go shopping!”

“Castillo doesn’t fix the cars. He runs the whole road operation,” Javier said. Your jaw dropped.

“Well shit,” 

“Anything else you wanna share?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know but Monday I might,” You sipped on your coffee before continuing, “I got invited to a party, I was going anyway but-.”

“No, no you can’t go now we know who he is,” He exclaimed.

“This could be invaluable!”

“You’re not allowed to have an informant,” 

“It’s not an informant if I am the one with the info!” You argued.

“Javi? Gunna chime in at any point?” Steve turned to his partner, desperate for some help as you had already spiralled far enough on this idea. You turned to Javi with a determined look.

“They don't know my name, they don’t know where I work,” You explained rapidly, “I know what I am doing, just trust me, please?” 

“Fine,” Javier broke easily. The idea made sense.

“What the fuck! Javi she-,” 

“She’s right. Neither of us is going to ever get that close and she’s new here, people don’t know her and you said you gave them a fake name?” Pena explained, you nodded, “Technically she won’t be breaking any rules if she’s the one feeding us information directly,” 

“If anyone finds out-“ 

“No one will find out, it stays between us, in this room,” Javier said gravely, “I trust you Y/n,” 

You smiled and nodded, a sense of pride washing over you. Steve muttered and grumbled under his breath but he didn’t outwardly complain so the decision was made. You were going to feed information you found out through Maria to the DEA, going undercover. Nobody had ever mentioned no undercover work, the idea of sending a rookie into that kind of situation was insane, but you wouldn’t be technically breaking any rules. 

--

The party was a bust. There was nothing of interest apart from the attendee’s themselves. Everybody was civil, there was no talk of business- as explicitly called for by the hosts, and apart from one fight between two guys over a soccer match there really was nothing to report. You spent the evening with Maria and her friends, drinking and dancing. Having a good time. 

They were decent enough people if you ignored the way they all got their wealth. A little hard to relate too at times- you didn’t have a private jet or a house with a huge pool but Maria’s friends were surprisingly friendly and once the jokes about being a gringa were out the way they seemed to like you. 

There was no information but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a well worth evening. You had their trust now. That would be invaluable moving forward. 

--

It was payday. Everyone you worked with was going out for the evening to let loose. You were with a large group of people from the office. Some you recognised, some you didn’t but either way you were having a great time chatting to people. The alcohol was cheap, the music was great and the company was perfect. Nobody here complained that their dad wouldn’t let them import Italian handbags anymore or that their pool wasn’t big enough. You felt much more at home here, amongst peers and friends.

After a few hours of chatting to people, you retreated to a table with Javier and Steve. Eventually even Steve left, leaving just you and Javi alone. You were drunk, no other word for it. Your eyes were heavy, a grin plastered on your face and you swayed in your seat to the music listening to Javi talk. 

You rested your hand on your head and watched Javier for a moment. He looked very handsome, as he did nearly every day. He wore a blue jean jacket, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing off his tan skin. You watched as he smoked a cigarette, watching girls at the bar. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, you wondered if you weren’t sitting here as his rookie if you would catch his attention. Before you could think, you asked the question aloud. 

“If I was just a random girl in the bar, would you hit on me?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“I’m not answering that!” Javier laughed, “I know you,”

“I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you?” You exclaimed, “Hot girls not your type?”

“You’re not my type,” Javier corrected you. You gasped dramatically.

“I’m taking offence to that! Your type is anything that breathes,”

“You think so little of me,” He shook his head solemnly.

“Baby I’ve known you for months now. You don’t have a type!” 

“Baby?” Javi smirked at you. 

“Shut up I’m drunk,” You dismissed him. 

“Well what if I ask the same question to you?”

“Would I hit on me? Absolutely!” You exclaimed.

“No! Would you hit on me?” 

“Nah,” You shook your head and screwed up your nose.

“Liar!”

“Am not!”

“Come on don’t pretend like you wouldn’t,” He said, “You’d be all over me,” The energy shifted as he looked at you. Immediate eye contact, his dark eyes looked you over quickly drawing you into him. He leant forward slightly as he readjusted himself on the chair and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb drawing your attention to them. Your breath hitched, lips parted and your eyes flickered to his lips. Was he going to kiss you? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and laughed, settling back in his chair. “See! You would,”

Dazed you shook your head and cleared your throat. Javi smiled smugly.“No, No! That's not fair! You being smoother than fucking peanut butter doesn’t mean I would hit on you if I saw you! You’re old and grumpy looking, I like my men young and energetic,”

“So I heard,” He said as he tipped his drink into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s gross,” You exclaimed when you finally realised what he meant.

“Goes both ways, Baby, if you can hear me I can hear you,”

“So you listen to me fuck?” You countered. Javi choked on his drink.

“N-no I-,” Javi stuttered ands tumbled over his words, blushing slightly

“You do! Dirty bastard!” You exclaimed. “Do you get off to it?” You asked, quieter now leaning in closer to him. Javi didn’t reply, taking a gulp of beer and breaking your eye contact. You laughed again, “Javier Peña speechless! Wow! Pretty sure I can retire now and I’d be happy,”

“I’m getting another drink,” He grumbled, getting up from the table.

“Tequila please, Baby!” You called after him. 

—

You woke up with the worst hangover you had ever felt. Before you really opened your eyes you darted to the bathroom to throw up. You groaned into the toilet bowl, annoyed at yourself more than anything that you had gotten so drunk. You didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember leaving the bar. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Javi drinking tequila like it was water. The memory made you gag again, how did he ever get you to drink tequila?

You padded into your tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, and start your usual fix all hangover cure. Salted chips and Coca Cola. The sugar and salt combination would do wonders and had saved you multiple times after a heavy night before training back home. You found a bag of chips in the cupboard but no cola. In fact, your fridge was practically empty, bar an old jar of salsa that you were pretty sure had been sitting there since before you arrived in Colombia. The idea of having to go out to the shop made you want to cry. You rested your head on the fridge door and groaned as another pulse shot through your skull. Then you had an idea, the Murphy’s would probably have some! 

You could tolerate seeing other humans at least for a few minutes. So you pulled a pair of shorts on and a vaguely clean t-shirt, took your keys and went across the hall to your favourite couple. The hallway was bright as sunlight streamed through the open window, you winced and shielded your eyes. You knocked twice on the door, the established knock for friends, and took deep breaths as you tried to not give into the need to throw up again. After a moment, Connie opened the door, a wide grin on her face when she saw your fragile state.

“Good night?” She teased you. You frowned and pouted at her.

“Remind me never to go out with Javi alone ever again,  I can’t remember leaving that bar,” You groaned. “Do you have any pain killers? And some cola,”

“Cola?”

“Yeah. Cola and salted chips, the best hangover cure. Got the chips but no cola and the idea of going outside today makes me want to off myself,”

“Come on in I’ll see what I’ve got. The boys are in there,” She let you into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen. Javi and Steve sat on the couch watching TV in the living room, the noise made you wince.

“Afternoon Rookie,” Steve greeted you smugly. You grimaced and leant on the arm of the couch next to him.

“What's the score?” You asked, watching the soccer match on screen for a few moments. 

“3-3,” Steve answered.

“I’ve got Pepsi, that's okay?” Connie called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah! Anything’s fine,” You called back.

“Can’t you go buy yourself cola instead of stealing mine?” Steve complained.

“Your wife said I could have it Murphy, suck it up,” You shove his shoulder weakly, “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I step into direct sunlight I’ll burn to ash. I’m taking your cola and retreating to my bed,”

“What did you two even get up to after I left?” 

“Ask him, I cannot remember,” you laughed. 

Javi looked up briefly, took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged. He looked as rough as you felt. Neither of you had come out particularly well.

“Here you go sweetheart,” Connie returned to the living room with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand and a small box of painkillers.

“You’re a star Connie what would I do without you,” You stood up from the couch and took the items from your friend. “Later boys,”

“See ya Monday Rookie!” Steve called after you. 

Next Chapter -->

--

oop Rookie and Javi flirting?!? Could never. Also coming next week this ish is getting a whole lot angstier again. I can never keep things nice for long haha

Tagging:  @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @urbankaite2​ @whataloadofmalarkey​ @ahsofka​​ @yeetus-my-feetus​ @sara-alonso​ @lesbianlena​ @xiao-lusi​ @all-good-things-have-an-ending​ @eternallyvenus​ @ajeff855 @mayangel19​ @1950schick​