#so I've been picking up the pieces and shifting focus back here a little bit

[fernalredart]

Been steadily reblogging a bunch of Sorbet comic pages because I plan on making more soon but realized I fell behind on reblogging older pages to this blog ages ago and I figured I may as well bring the previous mini arc here before starting on the next one, lol.

[one-annon]

im so sorry about my absence!! i've been a little busy so i haven't been able to get to requests but i promise i'll start working on them again around this weekend!! instead here's a book i wrote a while ago about the twins to keep you guys fed! i also wrote it on a computer with auto caps so if its a little different from my writing style please forgive me..i also got a bit lazy toward the end i apologize! warning for tcm spoilers kinda choptop coming home

Bobby sighed heavily, finally getting off the plane. He was glad he was able to finally be done with the war. Of course, he only served about three years but missed his family - what can he say? Not only that, but he missed his records. According to the letters his twin sent, he kept them safe in the room they used to share. He was the only one to write.

Drayton, his oldest brother, was supposed to pick him up from the airport. It was a fairly long drive, but he didn’t mind. Apparently, while he was gone, they set themselves up well. Made a name for the family. Drayton won the best chili competition twice! Twice!

The short man scrambled around baggage claim, quickly grabbing his stuff before waiting outside for his brother. He got odd looks, of course. Nothing new. He had gained a metal plate in his head during his time serving - the result of a piece of his head being cut (getting a chunk of your head cut with a machete really freakin’ hurts!)

About 20 minutes passed before a blue Chevrolet c-10 Silverado pulled in front of him, his brother in the driver’s seat.

Bobby tilted his head, pulling the passenger door open and slipping into the seat. “This is new,” he stated, slamming the door shut and setting his bags in the back seat.

Drayton grinned at him “like it?”

He laughs softly, nodding. He looked around the truck. “Where’s bubba? And nubbins?”

The way drayton’s expression fell didn't go unnoticed by the veteran. “Oh.” he started, shifting the truck into drive and moving out of the way of others. “..they’re at home,” he answered simply. “Taking care of Grandpa.”

That made sense. Grandpa needed someone to watch him. He was old.

He gave a soft nod.

The two fell into a comfortable silence (for the younger, at least). It was fairly unusual for the sawyers to be quiet but bobby was tired and drayton had too many thoughts in his head.

How would he react when he found out what happened?

“Now- bobby..uh..you realize some things have..changed..since you left.” Drayton tried to be careful with his words. It wasn’t all the time he was soft with his younger brothers but-..this felt different. He had just been through war. He watched his friends die right in front of him. On top of that - nubbins had-

“I know!” he smiles at him. “I-I’m quite ready to see what you guys have been cookin’!!” 

There it was. That quietness.

“Yknow, i made a friend.” bobby mentions softly. “He always called me chop top. Gave it to me in the hosp-hospital!”

Drayton just nods.

“He was real sweet, gave me one of his records - he did! A-a Beatles one! ‘Sargeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’.” he leaned back slightly, “that’s the one with the song that people say is related to LSDs!!” he grins, looking over to his brother as he rests his hands behind his head. “Though it actually originated from John Lennon’s son’s drawing.”

Drayton let him ramble on, letting him be happy for the moments before the storm.

He couldn't focus on what Bobby was saying, just staring blankly at the road.

“That’s nice, Bobby.” He mumbled.

The younger frowned, watching him. “You’re being awfully quiet.” He spoke softly, his eyes full of worry as he stared.

Drayton swallowed hard “don’t worry about it, boy.” 10 minutes. Just 10 more minutes.

The truck fell silent again. More of an uncomfortable silence now.

It didn’t take long for the duo to get there. Home.

“What happened?” bobby asked as he set his shaky hand on the door handle.

“It’s a long story.” Drayton grumbled, shutting the truck off before opening his own side’s door and stepping out.

Bobby followed soon after, retrieving his bags from the back seat. He meets his brother at the front door, grinning. He was excited to see the rest of his family. Especially his twin. He doesn’t know how to explain it but they’re..connected. Not just by blood but it feels like they can finish each other’s thoughts without even needing context. 

Twins can read each others mind. His sergeant had said when they were eating lunch. Hell yeah. They could do that.

Drayton sighs heavily as he opened the door. “Welcome home, Bobby.”

The taller quickly ran into the house “bubba!” he shouts “nubbins!!”

There was a loud clatter. Then excited screaming. Then out came bubba, all grown up; wearing a fancy new tie and a yellow rubber apron and..

Bobby was tackled, pulled into a tight hug. Bubba babbled out sobs, squeezing him much too tight. 

“Hi bubba!” he laughs, wrapping his arms around his brother’s large frame. If you ask if he cried, he’d obviously say no..but he’s lying. Tears were shed as he held his younger brother. “You’ve grown!” he pointed out, grinning at him.

Bubba nods quickly, moving off and standing to show his height growth. Choptop chuckled and stood beside him “almost as tall as me, bub!”

Drayton smiled at the two, staying quiet.

“Where’s nubs?” Choptop suddenly asked, looking around “he ain’t surprising me is he?” The tall veteran searched the remains of the home, calling his twin’s name “Nubbins! Nubbins!! Fuck are you?!”

The eldest brother watched as Choptop called for his twin. He knew he had to tell him but how would he? Bobby would lose his mind if he found out. Drayton knew he would eventually find the corpse. He didn’t dare toss it. Not without Bobby saying goodbye first.

His first clue of his twin’s disappearance was the way Bubba looked at Cook. He was scared. Not just scared to be yelled at or hit like normal but scared of something else. Had Drayton done something to him while he was away?

Drayton had been unusually quiet. Was it because he was guilty of something? Did he do something to Nubbins? Bobby started to get worried. Not to mention how frustrated he was. Why couldn’t they just tell him dammit?! Where was his twin?? “He’s gone.” Cook spoke up.

Bobby’s eyes watered. Gone? Like - gone to town? Gone hitchhiking? Dead?

He saw a lot of death in Vietnam. Whether it be his own men or the enemies. This was different. This was his twin. The man who had been there with him since they were born. The boy who slept in the same bed as him; right side, facing the wall, hugging a pillow, hogging the blankets. If Nubbins was dead who the hell was gonna force him to have to get up and sleep with a quilt? Who was gonna kick him awake in his sleep?

“He..he aint dead right?” 

Bobby’s voice cracked. He wasn’t used to speaking with such urgency. He’s not used to losing his spark - his chipper tone he always held when he experienced something terrible. No, he was panicked. His voice shook as he asked his question, hoping - praying -  the answer would be a simple no. There had to be an explanation. Nubbins couldn’t be dead.

The silence told him everything he needed to know. No one would speak to him. Bobby choked on his sobs, instead changing his question to: “Where is he?”

Cook pointed to the stairs. He had left Nubbins on the twins’ bed. Undisturbed. He was peaceful even after what he had gone through. Bubba cowered, moving to the side as Choptop sprinted up the stairs. He took a sharp left. The other two didn’t follow. He needed his moment alone. 

Bobby slammed the door to their room open, flinging himself at the bed. He wrapped his skinny arms around his twin’s rotting body. The smell was awful. Nothing he hadn’t experienced before. “Nubbins!” He cried, forcing the covers off of the body. He held his twin close to his body, sob after sob wracking through his chest. He felt awful. He was supposed to be the responsible twin. He was supposed to be the one protecting his brother - even when Drayton was away. He knew Nubbins was harder to care for. He took on the challenge. And he failed.

He had been gone 3 years. He was only 25. Nubbins was only 25. God knows how long he’s just been sitting here. Choptop muttered to himself, begging Nubbins to wake up. It was like those nights again. Back when they were kids and when Bobby would have a bad dream. Nubbins always held him tight and Bobby did the same when Nubbins had a nightmare. He always held Nubbins close, made sure he would stop crying before Drayton or Ma came upstairs.

“I’ve - I’ve got you Nubs.” He whispered, face buried in the rotting hair. “Y-you’re okay. I’m home.”

It wasn’t until a week later that Drayton and Bubba saw Choptop. He had been keeping himself tucked away in his room since he found out. Somewhere he was safe. With someone he felt safe with. A corpse he felt safe with. Choptop trudged down the stairs, his usual cheery and manic tone back in action. He held the corpse close to his side. Drayton was in the kitchen at the time, cooking some poor soul into chili. “M-me n’ Nubbins are gonna go out!” He called. Drayton glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell?” Bobby already had the door open before he could say anything more. “Let’s haul butt, bro!”

[enchantedaloefics]

Hobie x Spider-Person Reader (Chapter Three)

This may or may not be entirely a self insert (if that wasn't obvious already) but I'm having a lot of fun writing this between doodling and playing way too much stardew. I had a specific song in mind while writing because it's one of my favorites (Brave as a Noun by AJJ) but I didn't wanna make it too specific (Even if my ramblings about music tastes were entirely just me rambling about myself.) Anyways, hope you enjoy!!

~~Chapter Three~~

It didn’t take long for the casual conversation to focus back on you. 

“So,” Gwen asked, perched on the back of one of the chairs, “Tell us a little about yourself.”

“Well… um, My name is Y/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for three years I've been the one and only Spider-Man. Or, I thought I was.” You looked around, and everyone was nodding along. This seemed to be a universal experience. You had to think of something else.

“Aside from that, I’m an artist and a musician. I play a few instruments and I sing-“ that seemed to pique Hobie’s interest “- and I graduated high school about a year back. I like video games and, um… I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Musician?” Hobie asked, turning towards you more in his seat, leaning towards you slightly. “What kinda music ya into?” He shot a look at Gwen, one you couldn’t quite read, but Gwen leaned closer as well.

“My taste is all over the place I guess. Classic rock, Alt, indie, various punk subgenres, especially folk punk or pop punk, Taylor Swift… Do you guys have Taylor swift? Doesn’t matter- but I’ll listen to anything,” you couldn’t help the smile that made its way to your face, “My aunt May loved driving me to school when I was younger. We’d put on the radio and sing at the top of our lungs, and if I found a song I’d like I’d write it down and see how fast I could learn it on whatever instrument I felt like practicing.”

You shifted in your seat slightly. Talking about your aunt felt bittersweet now, but you loved music. That and painting were what got you through your tough times. “Do you guys play anything?”

You should have put the pieces together by now. Of course Hobie played an instrument. Two amps sat stacked in one corner of the room, one electric guitar propped next to them, another across the room. Plus the various picks you saw when you came in. Your face bloomed red with embarrassment at the question. 

“Of course they do, bro, these two have been trying to start a band here since Gwen showed up,” Pav chimed in, leaning forward as well, though that seemed to just be his posture. “Hobie’s trying to teach me bass, but I haven’t had much time to practice between school and Gayatri and Spider-manning.”

You nodded along, barely noticing the sounds of people moving as you asked “Gayatri? Are they another spider-person?”

“Oh, no, bro!” He started, waving his hands. “She’s my girlfriend back home! Doesn’t even know I’m Spider-Man yet.”

“I’m sure she knows, Pav,” Gwen chimed in, settling back into her seat. “You’re a terrible liar and Gaya’s smart. Not to mention you flirt with her as Pavitr and Spider-Man…” She twirled her drum sticks in her hands- wait, when did she get those- as she spoke.

You switched your attention back to Hobie, who had left his spot on the couch. He was instead plugging his ax into one of the amps. You felt excitement bubble in your stomach. You love watching people play. The sound of live music, the vibrations shaking your chest and buzzing in your head.

“You said Folk Punk? Bit specific, innit?” Your face flushed slightly, but you nodded. 

“Yeah. AJJ, Crywank, Pat the Bunny…” You trailed off, laughing quietly to yourself at the face Pav made at the names. You reached for the pocket of your suit, flush to your thigh and fairly well hidden, and pulled out your phone. It was busted and broken, but it still had service… somehow. You really didn’t understand this whole multiverse thing. But you managed to pull up your music and play one of your favorites.

Hobie nodded slightly, turning up the volume so Gwen and Pav could hear, and you couldn’t help but hum along, bobbing your head and tapping your foot. Your fingers twitched along with the note changes you’ve memorized on your guitar. As the song ends, Hobie looked pleased, pushing his guitar towards you.

You tilted your head slightly, sliding your phone back into your pocket before raising your eyebrow at him. He simply nodded, gesturing towards the guitar. “You said you play, yeh?”

“Yeah, but… you just listened to the song, didn’t you?” You picked up the guitar, turning it over in your arms, resting it on your lap. It was amazing, even if it was a good bit beat up. A sticker on the side was peeling up and scratching your arm slightly, but for some reason it didn’t bother you.

“Yeh, but I wanna hear you play it,” he replied, his voice close to a mumble. For half a second, you forgot anyone else was watching you, and you held the guitar closer, ready to play. You felt your face turn red, and your stomach fluttered with nerves. You shook your head, but when you glanced back up, everyone looked at you so expectantly. Hobie slipped a pick between your fingers, and you quickly adjusted your grip as Gwen tapped her drumsticks together, a non-verbal offer to start the song off, like a test to see if you could join them.

Your fingers were cold, poor circulation never your friend anyways but nerves making it worse, and your throat felt tight, but you nodded anyway.You counted the taps, nodding along to the drum sticks hitting the coffee table- Gwen had set up her own makeshift drum set, and you were thankful. It was quieter than the real thing. Your hands were shaky as you plucked out the first few chords, your knuckles pale and tense. The first few words sounded squeaky, like your own throat was strangling itself to keep them from coming out, and you knew everyone noticed. You could feel your face burn all the way to your ears, but you kept on.

As you played, you could feel your hands warm up, your voice leave your throat a little easier. Music was second nature to you, but without your mask, you were never the most confident person. This certainly wasn’t your best work, but you weren’t crying, which was monumental enough for you.

It wasn’t long before you finished, and you shoved the guitar away like it burned. There was a moment of silence, then Pavitr clapping and whooping. You couldn’t help but smile, the reaction reminded you of your Aunt.

“Thanks, Pav. Sorry that was rough, I don’t really play in front of people. I opened for a concert as spiderman once, but that’s different,” you started, picking at your hangnails, staring down at your chipped nail polish.

“Gwendy, you thinkin what I am?” Hobie asked, moving the guitar from you and unplugging it, setting it back down. You finally chanced a look at their faces. Gwen looked ecstatic, Hobie at least a little impressed. You felt your chest swell with the slightest bit of pride.

“Hell yeah! We’re finally getting a band!”

[familyvideostevie]

steve fic request!

set in the future when they’re married, steve is (irrationally) worried about being a good father (due to his own fraught relationship with his parents). just some fluff as reader reassures him pls.

thanks!! <3

here you go, dove! thank you for waiting, i hope it's what you wanted, i tried to focus on that fluff and reassurance! i love steve, he'd be a great dad < 3 | 1.6k, fem!reader, fluff, cw: vague discussion of steve's parents being neglectful, talk of having children in general

You stare at the ceiling from where you lay on Steve's chest to avoid catching sight of the boxes, halfway unpacked suitcases, and fresh sheets scattered around the bedroom. Steve's hand strokes up lazily up and down your arm. You can feel the cool metal of his wedding band every so often, which makes you smile. You didn't know you could feel this happy. Married for over a month, and it hasn't faded. Most days you think it never will.

The fall wedding was sweet and small, and afterwards you drove up and down the East Coast to catch the leaves turning.  There are so many things to be done now that you're home, in your own house no less. You bypassed the boxes and attempted to start on your luggage, but you got as far as washing and drying your sheets before you both collapsed on the unmade bed.

"Being an adult is weird as shit," Steve says. You bark out a laugh. "Seriously, babe, we're like, almost 30."

"Not quite, Steve," you chastise. "Don't rush us!"

"Well, it's weird. We have a house. We're married. We have to decorate." He says the last one like it's tart in his mouth. "We have to go back to Hawkins this week to pick up some stuff we forgot from your parents." You decided to leave the apartment you'd been sharing in Hawkins behind, settling an hour or so away. Close enough that you can go back anytime, since neither of you think you'll ever really shake it after everything, but far enough that it feels like your own world.

"We'll have to go at the weekend since we both have to do this adult thing called work." Your hand rests flat on Steve's chest, and you give him a little pat as if to get up, but his hold on you tightens.

"Don't remind me. I don't want to talk about real life yet."

"This is the life, Steve," you grin. "It's our life. Can you believe it?" Your voice sounds a little breathless. You tilt your head up at Steve, your husband, and he meets you for a tender kiss. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but each one with rings on your fingers feels special. You lapse back into silence, content to be close to Steve like this as long as you can, even if the bed does need to get made at some point.

"I miss the kids," Steve whispers. He sighs.

"They're not really kids anymore," you reply, keeping your words soft. "They're in college, spreading out, growing up. Just like us!" Steve grunts in reply. "I miss them, too," you reassure him.

He plays with the fingers of your left hand where they rest on his chest, ghosting over your wedding band. You feel the mood shift, feel him start to gather his thoughts for a serious conversation. You let him take his time.

"I'm so glad we got married because it doesn't feel like it changed much, you know?" he starts. You could tease him a little for this, but know that he's getting to something important, something he needs you to hear.

"I think so, but tell me more anyway."

"Well," he continues, "we've been living together for a million years, I've loved you for even longer, and now we just have a piece of paper to prove it."

"And a house, Steve," you say with fondness and a little bit of awe.

"And a house." He sighs again and gently shifts you both onto your sides, so you're face-to-face. You scoot back a little to see him more clearly.

"What's this about, Stevie?" you whisper, bringing your hand to stroke his cheek, just once. The touch seems to give him courage.

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?" he croaks. You don't try to hide your surprise. You've talked about having kids, often and with enthusiasm, albeit a few years down the line. But you've managed not to touch on this part of it.

"Steve," you say, breathless, hand cupping his jaw this time. You are desperate to reassure him, to squash the insecurity in his eyes. "Steve, of course you'll be a good dad. Shit, sweetheart, you have been a good dad."

He sighs at your words but closes his eyes, scrunching his nose like he's about to sneeze. "I dont... I've been thinking about it. Now that we've started a new life for ourselves. Just all the ways I can fuck it up."

"Steve," you whisper. "Look at me, please." He opens his eyes and they're glistening just a little. It makes you ache to see him like this, to see him doubting and hurting. "What's got you worried?"

"I just don't know how I'll love them right, you know?" He sniffles a little, turning his head so your thumb drags down over his lips. His breath is hot on your skin as he continues. "I'm worried all I know how to do is what my parents did and that's not nearly enough. It's not what our kids would deserve, or what you deserve."

"Steve Harrington," you say firmly. "I want you to listen to me." You wiggle closer, shrinking the space between you again as you tangle your legs with his, hand still firm on this face, the other coming to rest on his heart. "I hear you, baby, and I get it. It's so hard to shake the shit that we get from our parents and our families and our pasts. And you have more than most of us. But I'll be damned if I've met a man more caring, more loving, more self-sacrificing than you." Steve doesn't look away from you, though his mouth starts to curl at the edges because you sound so determined to make him listen.

"You were so quick to give your life for those kids back when they were kids," you continue, "and you loved them immediately because that's what you do Steve. You love people with everything you have."

"S'why you married me, yeah?" He's aiming for a joking tone, but it comes out a bit raw. You nod.

"One of the millions of things I love about you. But listen to me, and this is the important part."

"Getting out my notepad," he jokes. You pinch his cheek gently but continue.

"It's so hard when we don't get the love we are owed from the people who are meant to give it to us, but it's even harder to choose to be so full of love anyway and to give it away so freely. To be as good as you, Stevie. You love those kids and they love you and that will exist for the rest of your life. You love me and I love you and that will exist for...for the rest of eternity." You feel your own eyes start to well as you keep going. You just need him to know this.

"You will love any children we have through space and time and all the rest, until the world ends, Steve," you finish. Steve's own hand comes to your cheek to swipe away a tear. You brush away its twin as it drips down his own nose.

"Pretty big promises, baby," he breathes. "But how can I argue with those pretty words? What would I do without you?"

"Cry less, maybe," you croak out.

"More," he says. "I'd be missing so much." His eyes pour over your face as if he's memorizing it, as if he's drinking you in and can't get enough.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you ask. He's nodding immediately.

"Anything."

"I'm scared too," you admit. "To be a parent." Steve knows your baggage, and he's always loved you through it, with it, because of it. "No one is perfect, but--"

"You're as close as it gets," he interrupts. You hush him, giggling a little.

"No one is a perfect parent, no one is a perfect child, but if there's one thing you know how to do, Steve, it's love. And I think as long as we do that, we'll figure it out." Steve pulls you to his chest again and rolls onto his back, where you started.

"It'll be hard, but we'll do it together." He takes a deep breath and you rise and fall on his chest. "Parenting can't be harder than a freaky alternate dimension full of shit that wants to kill us." You laugh again, feeling warm and fuzzy. You shift up to his ear, your lips almost on his skin.

"You're going to be a great father, Steve."

"Yeah I--thank you. I believe you." He turns his head to brush his nose against yours, hand finding your ring again to trace it with his fingers. "I'm so lucky to call you my wife."

"My husband," you whisper. He shivers a little. "My Stevie. Love you so much." You kiss the first part of him you can reach, your lips landing somewhere on his brow, before settling back on his chest. You are reveling in the sweetness of this moment, of all of the moments before, and all of the ones to come. Life is hard -- you both know that for certain -- but you can't help but look forward to all of it because you've got Steve with you.

"I can't believe we have to unpack all of our shit still," your husband groans. You smile into his shirt, overcome with how much you love him.

"Tomorrow," you say. Right now, you want to put fresh sheets on the bed only to dirty them again right away. You want to kiss this man silly. "We have tomorrow."

"Thank christ for that," Steve says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[misschifuyu]

To choose a lover

requested here

characters: ran haitani + rindou haitani

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Giggles and whispering comments were passed around, giddiness present in the voices that spoke out just a few metres away from you.

As much as you tried to focus on the tiresome work that was splayed out on the piece of paper before you, it was completely futile to drown the girls out.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. The school you were all under had the privilege - if one could even consider it as such - to hold two infamous students.

The Haitani brothers.

Whilst the eldest was in his final year, the younger still had another year under this roof until he followed in his brother's footsteps.

But there was really nothing to dislike about going to class when one had a literal fan group who's main topic was always them.

There were girls who preferred Ran, with his signature braids that they always wished they could undo for him; and others that would always fawn over Rindou's cocky ways and stubbornness, trying to catch his attention wherever he went.

The current conversation, however, wasn't just fixed on talking about their aspects.

Far from it. Sending each other questionable looks and making fun of those on the other side of the opinion, they were discussing who, out of the two brothers, was better.

Those on Ran's side had the advantage of saying that he was older, therefore more responsible and willing to take care of anyone.

Sure.

He would make the perfect husband, some were proclaiming. But...the youngest would always want to show that he is the strongest, the more dependable one, as a result of the inferiority that had always hung with him since they were young.

It wasn't that he was, he just hadn't pushed himself to be known as much as his brother had done all those years back.

Needless to say, it was an argument that would never see an end. At least not until the two left the school behind and continued up to wherever the future would take them.

It was amusing, from your point of view, to hear all of these discussions. For years now you had known the two, as close friends who had grown up on the same street, so you knew everything that there was to them, right down to what they actually did when they said they were studying.

Definitely something that the girls would be pushed back by if they ever found out.

But, if it really came down to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick one out of the pack that they came in, either.

They both had their merits and faults, and, truth be told, neither of the two were that much of a pleasure to be around with, as much as their fans would beg to differ.

One thing was for sure, though. It had come into the light when the three of you had been hanging out one afternoon, without much else to do.

You had asked the youngest about what he thought about his notorious lower level when it came to comparing him with his brother.

It had simply been a spur of the moment, and you hadn't expected him to actually give a sorrowful response.

He was well aware that he was viewed as the weaker brother of the two, and as much as he'd try to prove otherwise, it had always been something that would eat away at him.

Naturally, both you and Ran had jumped to convince him that he was far from a weak person.

The fact that he was viewed as such meant nothing at all when it came down to the reality of what he was, and that there was no point in even listening to those ignorant - and frankly, irrelevant - opinions about himself.

At the end of the day, although you would never openly admit it near the oblivious fangirls, you held a considerable amount of affection towards the two of them.

Of course, they had their odd moments in which you only wished to hit them around the head with Ran's metal bar; but, all in all, they would always be your childhood friends.

So choosing between them was simply out of the question.

Both of them held an equal importance to you, so when a peculiar feeling started growing for one of them, you quickly averted it so it would be felt for the two, whatever it were to be.

They were two peas in a pod, and you weren't about to change this because of a measly crush.

However, the thought would only bug you more whenever you were all together. Such as the current situation, sat right between the two of them on the comfort of their couch.

Before even coming over, you had mentally ordered yourself to disregard the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded your mind.

The girls back at school hadn't help with the problem one bit, if anything they worsened the conflictive feelings; and now you were to spend the afternoon with the two.

One could only think that all odds were against them in such situations.

Head resting on Ran's shoulder, legs atop Rindou's, your eyes were fixed onto the screen before you. The reasoning behind spending the afternoon together was the airing of your favourite show.

However, you were now racking your brains over what you were supposed to do after the series ended. Watching a movie was the prime option, but you figured they would want to move from the couch and do something else.

And the two were very talkative, so you would have to, inevitably, push everything in your mind aside to prevent from even giving the smallest hint surrounding your thoughts.

Your stiffness didn't go unnoticed, and, soon enough, you felt a hand on your leg, startling you in an instant.

"What the hell is up with you today, Y/N?"

Rindou had lost all attention for what was playing on the screen, and it looked to be as though he had for a bit now. This meant he had felt your change of attitude well before he had actually asked about it.

"What? No, nothing...why?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, the blond looked over at you with a disbelieving stare. By now, you were sure Ran had shifted his interest towards the two of you.

"You've been all skittish since you got here. You got something important on your mind or what?"

Geez.

"No...I've just been thinking about something stupid, that's all. Don't worry about it, now let me watch th-"

"That being?"

Now you were cornered. From behind you, having turned to look at Rindou, a voice spoke out the question. In slight panic, you managed to come up with another way around it.

"Well...that, let's say, if I had to choose one out of the two of you, I wouldn't know who I'd pick. It's a silly question one of my friends asked today, that's all"

God bless the fan girls. You were sure to never judge them internally again, because they might have just saved your skin in the nick of time.

Your nerves calmed down as you heard Rindou chuckle at the concern, and you figured he'd just brush it off as another one of your peculiar inquiries.

However, as he fully turned towards you, it was clear that he wasn't about to let this go unfazed.

"Well, you can't just leave us like that without an answer. Go on then, if it was a life or death situation, who would it be?"

"Rindou...you know I'd get rid of both of you if I could"

You all laughed at your words, stirring the conversation into an area that you were certain you could get a hold of.

Each one of you was just as ridiculous as the next one, so it wasn't hard to divert difficult topics.

If only the youngest wasn't so damn pushy.

"On a real note, there's gotta be one of us that you like just a little more, Y/N"

Upon knowing that perhaps you had driven yourself into a dead end, you started to fumble with your fingers.

What the hell were you supposed to say? If you picked one, the other was surely to get the wrong idea.

"Um..."

A slight shift behind you made you turn your head, catching Ran just a little too close for comfort to your face. Great, just what you needed.

After a few, nerve racking, seconds in silence, it was the eldest of the two that decided to break the ice. You were all just wasting time there, after all.

"Listen...since my brother seems incapable of forming a decent sentence, what we've been trying to get at is which one you'd choose, because we've both liked you for some time now and we kinda need to know who you'd go out with"

Well.

Certainly an unexpected turn to your seemingly uneventful afternoon. It appeared that you weren't the only one struggling with the damned feeling that was a crush, but you hadn't gambled that it would be both of them...and for the same person.

You couldn't choose.

In the same way that you had to waver the feeling of more than just friendship between the two of them, there was no way you could pick one now.

It would be unfair for the other, especially since you would only be lying to yourself for saying that you felt nothing for the half that was left aside.

There was only one way out of this, unless you wanted to shatter the relationship you had built between them for the past years.

"I...both of you. I can't leave one of you out when I, well, like both of you"

A huge weight was lifted from your body the moment the brothers exchanged a look, followed by an agreeing nod. Far from the catastrophe you had gambled with, that much was sure.

As Ran leaned his head on your shoulder, Rindou gave you a bright smile, one that not everyone had the chance to say that they've seen.

"Wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

No. What was going to be hard was having not one Haitani by your side, but two, as a partner. Sure enough, you were really going to know what their poor mother had to put up with now.

[crowfootwrites]

Safety [Nestor Oceteva x Reader]

Get ready for some danger and comfort, because I couldn't help myself! This one is longer than what I've been posting, because I'm a wordy bitch.

Warnings: graphic depictions of guns, violence, and blood (sorry 'bout it!); language

Words: 2,210

You tried to keep your expression unreadable as you clenched your hands in your lap below the table. The man sitting across from you glowered, his anger rolling off of him in waves, a steely grey pistol resting on the table just within his reach. The late afternoon sun pouring into your breakfast nook glinted off the barrel threateningly. Your heart thudded in your chest, blood pumping thunderously in your ears. You bit the inside of your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and giving you away. If there was one thing you had learned from Nestor, it was to show no fear.

But you were afraid. Very much so. This man had somehow managed to get into your house without you noticing, sneaking up on you as folded laundry, that same pistol pressed between your shoulder blades. He had commanded you to sit at the table across from him, not allowing you to ask questions. So, you still had no idea who he was or what he wanted. He seemed to be waiting for something. As you sat quietly across from him, you fervently memorized his features. His dark hair and at least a couple of days’ worth of stubble. The fresh scar, the healed skin still shiny, that traced across his temple, from eyebrow to ear. The murderous look flashing in his brown eyes. His burner flip phone buzzed briefly on the table and he answered it, never taking his eyes off you. You silently berated yourself as he growled Spanish commands into the phone. Nestor had been so adamant about your safety; the two of you had installed a high-tech security system on your shared home, he had taught you how to shoot, and there were various weapons scattered throughout the house. But since you had been caught unsuspectingly, you never got the chance to get your hands on one.

Your knuckles were starting to hurt from clenching your hands, so you took a calming breath and placed your sweating palms on your thighs, staring gravely back at the man across from you. After a few minutes, he snapped his phone shut and grabbed yours off the kitchen counter just behind him. He picked up the firearm and aimed it at you and you shifted in your seat, desperately wishing to put some distance between you and the dark heart of the barrel. He slid your phone across the table, and it came to rest in front of you. At his touch, the screen had lit up, displaying a smiling selfie of you and Nestor at your birthday last year. Your sinuses throbbed as you tried to keep your tears back. No fear, Nestor’s voice rang in your ears.

“Llámalo (call him),” the man spat, his voice gravelly.

You picked up the phone quickly, trying to disguise the trembling in your fingers. You swiped the phone open and clicked on Nestor’s speed-dial icon.

He answered on the second ring.

“¿Qué pasa, abejita (What’s up, little bee?)?” he greeted you, unsuspecting.

“Nes?” You tried to tame the panic in your voice, and thought you had done a pretty good job, but Nestor had always been incredibly perceptive.

“What’s wrong, baby? What’s going on?” His tone had changed from your one word and you could practically see the furrowing of his brows on the other end of the line.

You took a quick breath to quell the panic climbing up your throat. “Hay un hombre aquí. Tiene u– una arma. No sé lo que quiere. (There’s a man here. He has a – a gun. I don’t know what he wants.)”

You heard Nestor’s furious growl just as your captor held out his hand. “Dámelo (Give it to me),” he commanded, and Nestor heard it too. Before you could pull the phone from your ear, Nestor was murmuring, “No te preocupes, mi amor (Don’t worry, my love.). I’ve got you.”

You handed your phone over and waited as the man across from you discussed something with Nestor in low, ferocious tones. Before you could wrap your head around what was happening, the man had hung up the phone and lowered his weapon back to the table.

“Now we wait,” he announced, and you leaned back slightly in your chair, praying that Nestor could get here quickly. You didn’t know exactly what this was about, but you would have bet money that it was cartel business, and that this pendejo was using you to get to Nestor, to get to Miguel. It was an approach that Nestor had obviously thought of, considering how much he tried to secure you and your home. As you waited, you tried to remind yourself that this wasn’t your fault. That you could never anticipate all the ways someone could get in and harm you. But you were both terrified and fuming, pissed that someone had gotten the upper hand on you.

The man across from you had to keep eyes on you, and his gaze was incredibly unnerving, so you kept your head down, examining the wood grain on the table in front of you. The house was still, but the inside of your head was pulsing. You had no way of knowing how much time had passed when the smallest noise caught your attention. Except for a quirk of your eyebrow, you stayed completely still, not wanting to give anything away. The noise had come from the very back of the house, the smallest creak on the hardwood floor. The man made no moves and you hoped that meant he hadn’t heard it.

Moments later, you heard keys in the lock on the front door. Your captor grabbed his gun and aimed it at you again.

“Levántate (Stand up),” he growled, and you quickly rose to your feet as he surged around the table to stand behind you, grabbing you roughly around your waist. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol snug against your temple, the cold metal biting, and held you in front of him like a shield. You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips. In that moment, Nestor came around the corner of the hallway and into the room, his .45 dangling from one finger in the trigger ring, his hands up in a surrender position. His suit jacket was gone, and you could see that both sides of his shoulder holster were empty. In his other hand was a thick manila envelope.

The look on his face was one you had never seen before, outrage etched into every line and plane of his countenance.

The man behind you barked, “Stop!” and Nestor halted in the doorway. His eyes met yours briefly, before he brought his attention back to the situation at hand.

“I have your money,” Nestor announced, his jaw clenched, and you could hear in his voice the effort he was making to placate the man holding his girlfriend hostage. “You don’t have any need for her now,” Nestor rationalized. “Let her go.”

“Gun on the ground,” the man demanded, and Nestor complied, slowly lowering his weapon to the floor and nudging it away from him with the toe of his dress shoe.

As he rose back to standing, the man motioned to the table with his chin. “Money on the table, ahora (now),” he ground out, much too close to your ear.

Somewhere, behind the blood pounding in your eardrums, you heard another small creak behind you. Your captor had positioned both of you with your backs to the hallway that lead to the back of your house, to a guest bedroom and the backyard. Wanting to make sure no one else heard it, you whimpered again, keeping their focus on you. Nestor glanced your way, worry in his eyes, as he slowly tossed the manila envelope onto your kitchen table. His gaze shifted back to the man behind you, every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for what would happen next.

What happened next happened in a matter of seconds. The man did not, in fact, let you go, but in order to grab the envelope, he pulled the muzzle away from your head. Perhaps because Nestor was unarmed, and you hadn’t put up a fight thus far, he figured he was secure.

He was not.

As he pulled his weapon away from your head and leaned slightly away from you to grab the envelope, a deafening shot rang out. Your eyes slammed shut in response, just as you felt the hot splatter of blood against your check and neck. The world went silent and when you opened your eyes again, just moments later, Nestor was already beside you, pulling you into his arms. You could see his lips moving, speaking to you, but the only thing you could hear now was a resounding, high-pitched ringing. You shook your head slightly at Nestor, not understanding, and he grasped your face in his hands, keeping you turned towards him, not letting you look around at the carnage you imagined laid around you.

As your brain struggled to piece together what happened, you felt your knees start to weaken under you. All of the adrenaline that had kept you going through this ordeal was rapidly fading, and you could feel a collapse coming. You threw your arms around Nestor’s neck, and he grabbed you before you fell, lifting you and carrying you gently to the couch. He sat down heavily, and you draped yourself over his lap, finally allowing the tears to slip down your cheeks and onto his patterned dress shirt. He ran his fingers slowly through your hair soothingly, his forehead pressed against the same temple that a gun had been pressed to just minutes ago. The significance of that was not lost on you.

You slid a hand up to cup Nestor’s cheek, running a thumb along his jaw for a moment before wrapping your fingers around one of his braids, tugging it gently to keep him close. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, Nestor’s warm hands trailing up and down your back as you calmed yourself. The ringing in your ear quieted gradually and you could hear a few things, primarily, the sounds of someone in the other room.

You shifted in Nestor’s lap and he glanced up at you, a heartbreaking look in his brown eyes.

“What happened? ¿Le disparaste (Did you shoot him?)?” you asked, your throat scratchy.

Nestor shook his head and his arms tightened around you slightly. “That was Eddie, one of my guys. I had him come in through the back.” His voice came out a little garbled, like you were underwater.

You nodded numbly. “What did that guy want?”

“Galindo money,” Nestor growled, fury distorting his face. “He was going to kill you over some pinche dinero (fucking money).” He sounded like he almost couldn’t believe it. But you did. After all, their whole livelihoods revolved around money.

“I’m ok, Nestor,” you promised. “Just a little shaken up. Mostly I’m mad at myself.”

Nestor blinked at you in surprise. “Mad at yourself? For what?”

“I don’t know how he got in without me noticing, and I’m mad that I didn’t get a chance to grab my Glock. I’m mad that I didn’t fight back.”

Nestor sighed heavily, that heartbroken look returning to his eyes. “Abejita (little bee), you survived, that’s all that matters. He didn’t want you, he wanted Mikey’s money. Keeping your head down was the right choice. You did good, mi amor (my love).”

You sighed, exhaling the air you’d been holding in your chest. You studied his face seriously, the set of his jaw, the furrowing of his brow. He glanced towards the kitchen where Eddie was still hustling around, then back to you. He shook his head slowly, one of his thumbs brushing against your bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, his head hung in shame. “I should have been able to protect you. I – ”

“Hey,” you interjected, tilting his head to look at you with his chin between your fingers. “This is not on you,” you told him firmly, needing to hear the words yourself. “There is no way to stop everyone. We do what we can to protect ourselves, but our life… it’s dangerous. It just is. And even with all of that,” you motioned vaguely towards the kitchen, “you did protect me, Nestor. Te necesite y estuviste aquí (I needed you and you were here). That’s all I can ever ask of you.” Nestor gazed back at you wordlessly, looking a little mystified.

“¿Me entiendes (Do you understand me?)?” you asked him firmly. You refused to let the man you loved beat himself up over this. Nestor was always the strong protector. But unlike most people in his life, you understood that sometimes he needed protecting. Usually from himself. And you would happily play bodyguard for Nestor’s heart.

He nodded and you watched as, finally, his eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed. He pulled you tighter into his embrace and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. His arms and chest were strong around you and for the first time in hours, you knew that you were safe.

[thesunandmoons-blog]

hey babes

do you think you could do a hurt/comfort for milo & sweetheart? maybe a reverse role of the healing a feisty werewolf audio?

omg hi honey bun!! i absolutely can :) i think every fic i've written so far on this blog is a hurt/comfort 😙 it's really my specialty

love u the most for this rq!! i hope i fulfilled it well :)

ik there's a little bit of background in the video, but i'm gonna put in some ooc shit just to lead into the story

cw/tw : slight hurt/comfort, literally the same concept as the healing a feisty werewolf audio, just with milo healing sweetheart

Word count : 985

Fandom : redacted asmr

Pair : milo/sweetheart

if u wanna read on ao3!! 

Sweetheart had been given their mission from D.U.M.P. to investigate a single rogue shade. They had been patrolling for the past few weeks, doing their best to keep eyes peeled for the shade. What exactly were they looking for? It’s not like they could find shades with ease every single day. 

It was in the woods, somewhere where one of Sweetheart’s new friends, Milo, said he runs often with his pack. 

The Shaw Pack.

They are the most infamous pack in Dahlia, known for specializing in their magic security for hire business. Sweetheart was definitely getting lucky with Milo.

However, Milo wasn’t currently there. Sweetheart couldn’t really detect anything else around them, but there was something stalking behind them. It wasn’t until they came to an open clearing that a gasp left their throat, quickly turning to see what had been stalking behind them in the woods.

The shade.

Sweetheart’s eyes went wide, reaching for their work phone as they tried to contact somebody from the Department. It wasn’t long after that they were forced to engage in battle with the shade, leading to them being held up by the throat.

Their hands and fingers clawed at the shade’s hands around their throat, trying to gasp for air. Sweethearts vision was starting to go fuzzy, their strength weakening more and more as their airway was restricted. 

It wasn’t until they could feel a warm hand on the back of their neck that they realized that they were safe, muffled voices in the background calling for their attention. They couldn’t focus, eyes half lidded as they sputtered, trying to take breaths here and there, but still struggling to do so. Their eyes began to slowly close as they let sleep take over.

It had been a few hours until they’d woken up. It was a familiar place that surrounded them, but it wasn’t their home.

This was Milo’s apartment!

The pieces of that puzzle were pretty easy to put together, especially seeing how Milo had been sitting on his bed waiting for them to wake up. “Hey, Sweetheart, good morning- or, well, evening, I guess.” He had a small smile on his lips, his hand gently taking theirs. 

Sweetheart slowly leaned up, resting their back against the headboard. Milo let out a small huff, sending a small glare their way as he picked up the glass of water on the side table, handing it over to them. “Y’know, you were lucky I showed up when I did. David and I were on a job when I sensed your aura. Not very easy, considerin’ you’r’a stealth, but what can I say? Guess I can tell when the dollface needs some help, huh?” He smirked, and Sweetheart could only take the glass and chug almost the entire thing. Milo’s eyes widened, taking the glass from their frail hands. “Woah, Sweetheart, slow down. Don’t wantcha gettin’ sick or anything.” 

He placed the glass on the side table again, this time mostly empty. Milo’s eyes peeked back over to the figure in his bed, a soft smile grazing his lips now. “Y’know, you gave me a real scare there, Sweetheart.”  “I had it totally covered!” Their voice was hoarse, eyebrows furrowing as they realized how fucked they sounded. 

“Oh really? Is ‘totally covered’ me showing up, you about to black out? Is that why I had to shift to get that damn shade’s hands from around your throat?” He huffed slightly, both of his hands gently grasping Sweetheart’s face. 

“Listen, I’m just glad that we found you in time. I... I don’t really know what I woulda done if I didn’t have your ass gripin’ on me all the time.” Sweetheart immediately smacked his arm as he broke out into chuckles, a small smile dawing their lips now.

Milo could tell that it wasn’t very comfortable for Sweetheart to talk or move, considering the number of injuries they claimed during their fight with the shade. “Y’know, Sweetheart, I know a little bit of healin’ magic, just if you wanted to be a little more comfortable?” Milo’s statement came out as more of a question, trying to just lend a helping hand to make them more comfortable.

Sweetheart had eagerly nodded their head, giving him a weak smile. “Only if you don’t mind. I don’t want to drain you of your magic, but my neck is pretty sore, to be honest.” No shit their neck was sore. Milo could almost make out the shade’s fingerprints that were left imprinted on the skin. 

He nodded his head. “Well, do ya mind if I put my hands on you? It’s, uh, best with skin to skin contact.” His words had a little bit of a suggestive bite to them, which made a small laugh bubble from the stealth’s lips. “Of course, Milo. I’d always want your hands on me.” They whispered that last bit, but it didn’t take much for Milo to hear. Y’know, wolf ears and all.

Milo’s hands gently placed themselves on their neck, and with a deep breath and gentle push of magic, Sweetheart was gasping with a full breath of fresh air now. “Oh my God, Milo, that feels so much better!” Sweetheart felt much better, to be completely honest. Sure, they were gonna be sore and have a few cuts, bumps, and bruises here and there, but their neck was really giving them trouble.

Things were better now, though. Milo didn’t really have to push himself to do that, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable. He didn’t care, though. Milo would do anything for them.

“Thank you, Milo, really.” Sweetheart’s hands found their way onto Milo’s cheeks, rubbing their thumbs over the soft skin on his face.  Milo could only smile back, slowly leaning in until their noses brushed together.  He leaned forward, locking their lips in a brief kiss before pulling away. “Anything for you, Sweetheart.” 

[sagemusesoutloud]

Anti-Romantic, Part 2

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader

Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff

WordCount | 2 K (bitesized for your convenience lol)

Author'sNote | I know this is kinda short, but I've decided not to rush the ending. I'm for sure not drag it out too much, but the slowburn reaaaally got to me and I ended up liking more than I orginially thought, so! I'll be back to post Part 3 tomorrow!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I know that you love me, It makes me deeply drunk

You’re like champagne, I shouldn’t do this

You’re at the base of the stairs to your apartment complex when he pulls up. The window on the passenger side rolls down.

“Hurry! I think they’re about to wash the machines at the ice cream shop!” he reaches over and opens your door while you grab your two bags and your pillow. You loved him, you really did, but he had the flattest, most uncomfortable pillows in the world in his guestroom.

“What? Why didn’t you stop there before picking me up? It’s not like you don’t know what I like.” You’re trying to move all your stuff to the backseat as he pulls away.

He sighs, “Thank you Jae, you’re so nice to pick me up,” he mutters. You’d be a bit apologetic if it wasn’t for the grin he was trying to hide. “I’ve already spent most of my ‘special’ day alone, thanks to someone who had to bail on me. I wanna spend the rest with you.”

“I knew it, it bothered you didn’t it?” You accused while fastening your seatbelt. “Next time, just tell me, I know it seems as if I know everything but I actually can’t read minds.” You knew he was just messing with you but for some reason his words cut at the guilty feeling you were trying to push away. “I actually got you something this time around, it’s why I wanted to see you before the day ended.”

Jae parks the car outside the shop before turning to you, “wait, did you really get me something?” You sigh, offended, “well, if you don’t want it or don’t like the idea of it, then I can still return it.”

“I just thought of you when I saw it…” crap, it’s too soon for you to go anywhere near that subject.

“That’s not what I meant,” he shakes his head, “It’s just been a while since we shared birthday gifts.” You look away from him. If he kept this up, you’ll start to regret calling him. Your hands were slightly shaking with the effort of not reaching over and pouring all your feelings into him. Unlike what you’re used to, he was dressed down with a simple t-shirt and grey sweats. He looked so soft, and domestic. You hated how much you loved it. At least for work, you had both always been professionally dressed, which was a nice barrier for your thoughts. If you dressed professional, you felt professional. This helped control your thoughts. But now that you were here with him, it was definitely harder to keep track of your thoughts.

Today was a day for him, not for you. You took in a deep breath as you turn to look at the shop. It looked like they were getting ready to start closing duties. Even if you weren’t looking at him, you could feel your heart race with acute awareness to his proximity in the small car. He was waiting for a response.

You open your door, “yeah well…if we don’t hurry, we won’t get those diabetes-inducing bombs you’re so fond of. And this all would have been for naught.” You needed to get a grip, fast.

I can clearly see the end, Worse than a hangover

It will be hard, Now, Just end it somewhere here

“I can’t believe you told them it was my birthday,” he groaned, pushing off his shoes at the door. You followed suit.

“Of course I did, it meant free goodies!” You raise the plastic bag with macarons. “It just sucks that they’re all valentine’s themed.” You make your way to the kitchen to put away the snacks you brought, dumping your overnight bag at the door of the guestroom. Maybe if you kept the heart-shaped gift out of sight, it won’t make you as nervous with him.

“I brought your fave by the way, chocolate covered almonds and gummy bears,” you call out. He appears in the kitchen, hair out of his way with a headband. Be still my heart, you thought. You decide to hyper-focus on placing some snacks on a plate to bring to the living room.

“So, what’s the plan?” He reaches over you to grab a water bottle from the fridge, brushing your hip with his front. No no no no no no no!

Was he teasing you? You knew that your face would give you away, you could feel how warm your ears and cheeks were. You hated how honest your face was, and it didn’t help that Jae knew you like the back of his hand. Maybe this is how he is nowadays? Flirty and confident? You’d be lying if you didn’t find it attractive, but not when his attention was only directed at you. You felt like you were slowly suffocating but even that wouldn’t stop the warm light that seemed to burst from your chest.

It seemed so easy to pretend you were closer to him, to pretend this happened all the time. That you were close enough to reciprocate his flirty actions.

“uh, em,” you clear your throat, “actually, I remembered you wanting to see that movie last time we hung out. I have it ready in my apple tv account.” You back away with the tray, “can you also grab me a water?” your throat was suddenly parched.

You settle in the couch, grabbing the throw blanket behind you. Any physical barrier you could place between you, you’d take it gratefully. “You remembered? That was almost three months ago, when the trailer came out.” He handed you your water and grabbed at the corner of the blanket nearest to him, covering himself with it and moving closer to you so that you both could fit under it.

“Jae, there’s another blanket on your side of the couch,” you wanted to feel embarrassed but you just felt an unexpected giddy feeling at him wanting to be near you. “Yeah but it’s my birthday and this blanket is my favorite,” he says as he pulls you closer and wraps his arm behind you on the couch.

“here, put in your credentials so we can start the movie,” he hands you the remote.

You suddenly thank your lucky stars that the movie was an action packed one and not a romantic one. You couldn’t help but sink further into his side, wanting to be comfortable. As the movie starts, he takes the remote from your hand and wraps your arm around him. “I’m cold, keep me warm,” he mutters. Oh sweet Jesus.

Back in the day, this wouldn’t have been something new. Your friends knew you were very heavy with the affectionate touches. A hug, sharing seats, even holding hands. You never shied away from it because it was part of how you showed your friends that you loved them. Some of your friends were also this way, so it was never weird. But now that you’re older, and now that it’s been a long long time since you’ve been close to someone else, the once innocent touches Jae was giving you felt like hot brands across your shoulders and under your arm. If you focused enough, you could feel his hard work at the gym in the way your softness gave way to the hard contours of his leg that pressed against yours and how your shoulder leaned against his chest.

This was going to be a long movie.

You prayed that Jae wouldn’t ask you what the movie was about, you only had enough sanity to pay attention to the first fifteen minutes. It was all a blur after Jae pulled you half over on his lap, “you’re hogging the blanket, move over,” was the only excuse he gave.

Now, your legs were tangled with his and you sat almost on his lap, his arms encircling you from behind. He felt so soft and every little movement made your skin break out in goosebumps. You felt like a live wire about to explode.

“D-did you like it?” you started shifting to the side so you could face him but he held you tighter in place, resting his chin on your shoulder. “yeah, it was pretty good, we have to wait for the end credits though. I heard that they’re starting to give hints about The Eternals.”

“Did you like it?” he squeezes your middle.

Did you? You’re not sure, but you sure as hell loved the attention you were getting for the past two and half hours. “Yeah, all Marvel movies are great,” you finally concede.

“Wanna watch another one? You can pick this time,” his hand started tracing through your arm as you waited for the stupid end scene that was taking too long to start. Is it getting hot in here?

“Sure, whatever you want,” you mutter. He could have asked you for the most ridiculous thing and you would have still agreed to it.

Jae wakes with a start, the room was dark, the only light came from the still on TV. A show was playing softly, the clock under the tv read 3:45 am. He felt pretty hot, was the A/C not working?

He begins to shift when he realizes the position you both are in. Your legs were still tangled together, as if unconsciously refusing to let go of the proximity. You gripped his shoulder, your breath hitting his neck as you slept soundly on top of him. God, if this is a dream, let me never wake up, he thinks.

He usually hates being too close to someone, any sort of intimacy was bad news to Jaehyun. Either emotionally or physically, he kept everyone at a distance because he had seen it too often. How people settled for something they weren’t sure of and hurting those involved. He was aware he was too logical sometimes, but it’s what he knew to protect himself. Moments like these, they only lead to expectations and empty feelings, leaving behind only pain that even time couldn’t heal sometimes.

But why was he finding it so hard to untangle himself from your embrace? He should go to his bed and sleep comfortably, but at the same time, having you in his arms felt just right. Like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He could smell the light scent that was you and it almost made him squeeze you closer, as if it was possible. You smelled of spring, a light floral scent that reminded him of better days.

He was glad he woke up, he was going to enjoy every second of peace this brought him. He would store it in a little box and hold on tightly when the cold reality came back. As he fought with his drowsiness, he felt you nestle closer. He kissed the crown of your head as he finally gave in to sleep. I hope I dream of you… If this was love, he finally understood why sometimes the pain was worth a shot.

So stupid, sweet love song, extravagant rom-com

As much as I was happy, on the receipt there’s a red line

EndNote | I know this chapter was pretty short. In all honesty, I had written something else before deleting it entirely and starting again, but I really like the direction the story is going now. Hopefully I can update Part 3 tomorrow, but I'm really excited about it!

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3

[cheelduh]

How to bet your way into someone’s heart. (Highschool AU)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Fake weed. Poor Signora smh. Oh yes, lots of swearing. UNEDITED ASF IM LAZY BYE.

Synopsis: Childe is being an infatuated idiot, Lisa has eyes for vending machine chocolate, and Kaeya is desperately in need of a pencil. With all these distractions, there’s no way in hell you’ll be able focus on the task at hand.

This is crack.

I don’t have time.

You think as you race down the hallway, shoes slapping against the floor as you expertly dodge multiple students in your way.

Bullet. You're as fast as a bullet, because everyone around you is a blur and you don't stop, can't stop, not until you meet your target.

It's funny how one can accomplish many challenges and feats they were unable to, merely due to pressure. Pressure is a twisted ugly thing that can gnaw its way into the pit of your stomach and grow like a parasite. Pressure is a parasite that can either bring the best in you, or the worst, but at the cost of one's peace of mind.

"Move it Signora!" You shouted a warning at the senior blocking your way. There wasn't any time for you slow down at that point, and you'd risk bumping into the breakfast club's stall if you swerved to the side, sending juice flying everywhere.

Signora's eyes widened momentarily, getting the gist albeit her anger, and choosing to back up flatly against the locker.

Her lipstick nearly slips from her fingers as you swerve past, a thick gust of wind in your wake.

It messes with the hair she woke up two hours early for.

Signora plots her revenge. You still don't have time.

You nearly kick the door to your home room down, but you can't risk the perfect image your teachers have of you. So you pat down your t-shirt, take five tempting deep breaths, and tentatively knock the door.

The door opens and you're met with a young man, familiar amber pupils welcoming you.

You try not to huff and puff at the cost of your stamina. Thinking back, there's no way in hell you could have physically been that fast.

"Good morning Y/N," Your homeroom teacher gives you a small smile, moving aside to let you in. "Class is just about to start."

You check your watch, then turn to him with an apologetic tone, trying not to crack under the eyes of your classmates. "I'm so sorry Mr.Zhongli, I slept through my alarm."

Your idiot ass forgot to set one because you studied till four in the morning.

"You're like thirty seconds late, cut the shit." Beidou boos from the back, causing your stance to stiffen.

"I don't wanna hear it Beidou. If anything, you're two periods earlier than usual." Ningguang calls her out for you, but you have a feeling it's more so on behalf of a personal vendetta.

Ignoring the two bickering, Mr.Zhongli gives you the handout. "Take a seat. Do not fret over such minuscule things dear."

Relief washes over you. Your impeccable attendance is not on the line.

Childe tries to flag you down next to him but you send him a pointed glare and sit next to Lisa instead.

"You should give him a chance you know." Lisa doesn't even have to open her eyes to know what's going on.

"Please," You scoff, digging through your bags to collect your notes. "As if I have the time to fool around with a shady kid like him."

Your friend sighs in disapproval, and makes no move to take out her own notes as Mr.Zhongli begins the lecture on the Archon war.

"You should really pay attention." It bothers you that she doesn't, but then again it's not your place to tell her what to do or not to do.

"I don't need to." She yawns, blinking an eye open towards you. "I have you after all."

"I'm tired of saving your ass." You groan and pull a pen out of your pocket to get started on the exercises as Mr.Zhongli talks in the background.

The course outline contained all the topic, and you made sure to teach yourself as much as you could before class to stay ahead.

Immersed in the worksheet, you blinked away your sleep and tried to answer as many questions as you could at the moment. You didn't hear the slight shift next to you, and the change of breathing, or the rate of which time went by.

A familiar scent makes its way into your nostrils.

"Lisa. Why do you smell like mango juul juice." You know the scent from when Signora blew a mango flavoured fog in your face yesterday at lunch when you said you were hungry.

A chuckle erupts and you freeze in place. "That's because I'm not Lisa."

You blink. Once, twice, and then crane your head to the side to meet a pair of teasing cerulean eyes.

Fingers loosening in shock, the pen drops on the desk with a short thud.

You whisk your head towards the front of the classroom, and Mr.Zhongli is nowhere to be seen.

"There's no saving you now." Childe's smirk widens, and he scoots closer to you. "Mr.Zhongli had to get something from the staff room. The staff room is near the cafeteria."

"Which is also near the merch stall." You grumbled, bringing both hands to massage your temples as a headache is beginning it's reign.

"Tsk tsk. Smart girl. I'd like to add that he's forgotten his wallet in his office as well, which is in the south wing."

"Son of a..." You mutter underneath your breath, and opt to scoot further back, but your efforts are futile because your desk is in a corner.

Your next beacon of hope is Lisa, so you scan the room full of chattering students, only to find her pestering her crush, Jean.

Shit...there's nothing getting you out of this one.

"What did it take?" Is your only question, the despair starting to brew. How much did it take for your best friend to betray you?

"A dollar and fifty for vending machine chocolate."

You take a moment to breathe, calming your nerves and burying down the urge to screech. "What will it take?"

"For what?" Childe replies back innocently, and you can't believe how fast he can change masks. You almost give in.

"For you to leave me alone."

"Aww come on girlie," He whines, closing in the distance. "Don't be so cold."

What did your mom tell you that one time? Oh yes. That if you were ever backed against a wall, then just break the damn thing down.

Too bad it's figurative. You're just about ready to sock him in the face if you didn't know he was into that sort of thing.

"I'm serious about you," He says, and it sounds so real, so genuine, nearly makes you sputter. "See? I've even bought school supplies.

He unzips his light backback and spills the contents on the table.

A lone piece of paper flies out, a lighter, and a mechanical pencil with no lead that follows straight after. There's also a pocket knife that you choose to ignore.

You're not the least bit surprised.

"First of all, how the fuck are you passing this class. Second, do you really think I'm into nerds?"

"Well, considering that you are a nerd—"

"You're making things worse."

"My bad, my bad." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "But on a serious note. I'll do anything."

You cross your arms. "I'm not just another one of your conquests Childe. It's not like I have the time. There are better things to do."

"You need to relax." He says so simply, with complete disregard as to what you are trying to say.

"I am relaxed." You reply, picking up your pen to continue your work. If he's going to annoy you, then you might as well get shit done while he's at it.

You're not wasting any more time.

"When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?" His voice is soft, too soft, and it's not at all like the Childe you know.

Your pen stops momentarily, but you will yourself to continue writing. The words look fumbled, but you don't care. The best thing to do is get your work done and ignore the idiot next to you.

"C'mon, Zhongli won't be back for another half an hour at least. Let's go." He kicks the bottom of your chair to urge you.

The pen shakes in your hand, and you narrow your eyes at the paper, digging holes into poor question eight. "I'm trying to work here. Let me work." You'll say anything to get him off your back.

"Fine fine fine..." He raises both hands in mock surrender. "I'll stop bothering you."

Your ears perk up at that, and you turn to him so fast he has to hold in his laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah," Childe nods along, bringing your hopes up. "If you win a bet, that is." And they're back to ocean level.

You roll your eyes. There's always a catch. That doesn't mean you're any less interested.

"What's the bet?" You ask curiously, all your focus now on him. Just as he longed for from the very start.

He flicks a thumb towards the door, leaning closer to whisper next to your ear. "We bet when Zhongli comes back."

"Are you kidding me?" You aren't bothered at all at the close proximity, mainly because you're too tired and only care about the freedom that will come with your win.

Childe, however, is a completely different story. His heart is beating a thousand times a second, but his face doesn't show it. Not one bit.

Kaeya leans in from the seat behind you two, interested in what's going on. "Ooooh secrets."

"Shut up Kaeya." Childe and you monotonously drone in sync, still having your little staring contest.

The captain of the skating team smiles, about to ask—

"No. We don't have an extra pencil. Even if we did we wouldn't give it to you." Childe finally breaks his gaze to scare off Kaeya.

Kaeya raises a smug brow, and leans back in his chair like the jerkwad he is. "Then don't let me keep you two love birds."

That's all it takes for him to earn Childe's unwavering respect and loyalty for as long as he lives.

After the two are done creating an elaborate handshake as a mark of their newfound friendship, you decide to just forget about the handout. It's not like you're getting anything done anyways.

"Anyways, back to the bet." Childe says, resting his cheek on his fist as he stares at you dreamily. You try not to break under his gaze.

"If I win, you have to go on a date with me."

"No way in hell—"

"Then I'll bother you for the rest of highschool."

Highschool is eternity. You don't want to live through an eternity of this.

"Fine." You answer, and for the first time he sees genuine fear in your face, it makes him waver slightly. Not enough for him to pity you.

"If I win..." You trail, thinking loud and clear as you ignore the excited chatter of your classmates. "I want you to pay attention to class."

"What?" He exclaims incredulously, blinking in disbelief. "I thought you'd get me to stop talking to you altogether."

"If you're paying attention in class, you don't bother me as much and your grades go up." You grin smartly, and oh archons it livens his entire day up, and it's only nine in the morning.

"You care about my grades?" Childe bites back a smile.

"Not at all." You lie, and quickly look away. Woah the floor tile looking trippy.

He decides it's better to get on with the bet without causing you any more distress. After all, you've given him such cute facial expressions today. He's feeling quite generous.

Pulling out his cracked-as-shit latest model phone, he unlocks it and tinkers with it a bit before turning the screen towards you.

"We'll be using this to time both of our predictions at the same time. Whoever has the closer time to when he finally swings by is the winner." The rules are simply put, no room for error.

You tilt your head in confusion. "Why am I seeing a slime review?"

"SHIT!" Childe fumbles with his phone, aggressively tapping on the screen. He lowers his head and voice as if he's been through fifty consecutive hits in the face. "It's uh, Teucer's account."

"Yeah...okay." Is all you can say.

"Ok what do you bet?" He changes the topic to unfuck the situation.

Putting a finger in your chin, you think for a minute, calculating the average of all the times Mr.Zhongli has left the classroom for a considerable amount of time.

"Fifteen minutes." You're sure of it. It's like clockwork every day.

"Hmm..." Childe crosses his arms, seemingly in deep thought. "Five minutes." He places his bet, and both timers start simultaneously.

Five minutes?! Is he serious?

You laugh inwardly. This challenge is in the bag.

The sense of victory you feel dulls when your ears pick up the echo of footsteps nearing the classroom.. Both your heads snap up to the doors.

There's something scary about Childe once his competitive side comes out. "Looks like I've won." He turns to you, eyes darkening evilly.

"What? There's no way in hell a ginger is right." Your palms are clammed up, eyebrows furrowed in panic. You calculated every single variable, how could this be?

You race to the front, Childe right on your tail as the entire class clamps up. The footsteps get louder, causing even whispers to become total silence.

Then it hits you. The shitty music about getting bitches and bars playing on the other side.

The door is swung open by Childe, and you're face to face with an idiot sophomore with a speaker in his pocket.

Childe’s grin is long gone, and you sigh in relief.

The false alarm encourages the class to return back to their idle chatter.

"Scaramouche?" Childe spits, narrowing his eyes at the unamused boy. "I thought it was Signora's shift today."

By "shift" he means being a complete dickwad and scamming fake weed to students in return for their souls. It only really works on the freshmen.

The only reason the club still runs is because Signora threatened the principal with some sus pictures she snapped of him and his assistant.

"Apparently she had an emergency." Scaramouche explains, lowering the volume on his outdated beats pill. "Something about a hair appointment because she got ran into by a, and I quote "lecherous imbecile.""

You steer clear of the conversation, finding the whiteboard far more fascinating and worth your while.

A loud cough is heard from behind the kid, and you're met with a crestfallen look on your beloved teacher's face.

You go through a whiplash of emotions, becoming completely numb towards your loss.

"They were out of slow cooked bamboo shoot soup." He sighs, handing a stack of papers to Childe, who is wearing the fattest smirk on his face at his victory. "Please hand these out to your classmates Childe, and we will begin shortly."

You check down at the timer despite knowing who’s won. Five minutes and twenty five seconds. Somehow, you don't feel as dejected as you thought you'd feel.

Maybe the date will be fun. Maybe Childe isn't so bad. Maybe...you do have time to indulge in these sort of things. If he’s so hell bent on getting your attention, perhaps it’s possible that you can make some room in your heart for him.

However, all those thoughts fly out the window when Childe hands you the new worksheet.

“I hope you're ready for our date tomorrow. We'll be sparring till sundown, and after you’ll be feeding me with chopsticks." He winks, and it makes your heart flip even though all you want right now is to go to the bathroom and barf your guts out.

Feelings are complicated.

You smile back at him nauseously, tight lipped and all, then you pull out your phone, go on maps, and search for the closest cliffs to jump off of.

After he's done, Childe slouches back in his original seat with a different kind of enthusiasm, and opens up his messages. He texts Zhongli a "thank you <3".

[thewidowsghost]

The Temple (Pt. 3) - (Daisy Johnson x Fem!Coulson!Avenger!Reader)

Main Masterlist

Previous Parts: The Temple (Skye x Avenger!Coulson!Reader) The Temple Part 2

Previously on The Temple:

The elder Coulson reaches up, brushing a piece of hair behind Skye's ear in a fatherly fashion.

"I'm so sorry. I'm gonna make it right. I'm gonna find the Obelisk."

"No," Coulson murmurs hoarsely.

"I'm gonna stop the drill. I'm gonna make it right," Skye continues, bolting from the room before (Y/n) can even think.

"Skye, no," Coulson calls. "Don't go down there."

"Dad, I have -" (Y/n) begins.

"Go! Go after her!" the elder Coulson says and (Y/n) jumps to her feet, glancing between the doorway Skye had gone through, and her father lying on the ground. "Go!" he yells again, and (Y/n) wipes away her tears, sprinting after Skye.

. . .

There's a metallic grinding nose, and Skye, Trip, (Y/n), and Raina focus on the Obelisk on the pedestal. It opens, revealing crystals and (Y/n) tenses.

"How do we stop it?" Trip asks.

"I don't think we can," (Y/n) says. She turns to Skye, tears welling in her eyes.

Skye grabs the front of (Y/n)'s shirt, pulling (Y/n) closer and kissing her.

"I love you," both young women whisper at the same time; the two focus back on the Obelisk.

Skye exhales heavily as the chamber trembles.

. . .

"And Skye and (Y/n) barely made it out alive! (Y/n) hasn't even woken up yet!" Mack shouts.

"Thanks to Trip! He sacrificed his life, Mack!" May counters.

"No, he traded his life for theirs!" Mack yells. "And then he was shattered into a thousand pieces!"

"That's enough!" the Elder Coulson yells. "If Trip was here, he wouldn't be arguing. He would't be bitching. He would be gearing up to do what needs to be done." Skye looks horrified at the can that had been trembling, and looking around, she sees her girlfriend curled up in the floor in a corner, her hands pressed over her ears. Skye crosses the containment module and sits down next to where is sitting on the other side of the glass. "Yes, we're dealing with forces we don't understand, but HYDRA I do understand. I want everyone ready when the sun comes up - end of discussion."

Everyone else leaves the room and Skye murmurs, loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. "(Y/n), what's happening to us?"

. . .

"The Avengers wouldn't have been necessary if we hadn't unleashed alien horrors," Simmons cuts Skye off again.

(Y/n)'s eyes had gone cold. "Go," she says bitterly, turning away from the scientist.

"But -" Simmons tries but (Y/n) turns back to her.

"There's always danger, Simmons," (Y/n) snaps, the stirring feeling rising up in her again. "Not everything is something that has to be destroyed or -" (Y/n) stops, turning her head away. "Go."

. . .

There are metallic crashes as pots and pan fall onto the ground and into the sink.

"Skye, (Y/n)? You want to talk to us?" May asks, and the two lover exchange horrified glances.

"Skye, what's doing this?" Coulson asks, his eyes widening.

"I am," Skye admits shakily.

Lady Sif goes to grab Skye's arm, and Skye flinches away, "No." Skye pulls (Y/n) along slightly, removing her hand from (Y/n)'s as she claps them to her forehead.

Skye's fist clenches and the glass behind (Y/n) and Skye explodes.

And, as if in slow motion, (Y/n)'s frame grows larger, towering over Skye.

The grizzly bear wraps it's arms around Skye, protecting the brunette from the shattered glass.

"Hand them over," Lady Sif orders and the elder Coulson and May pull out their hand guns, moving in front of the two younger women. "It will be safer for all of you."

. . .

A sword tip is stabbed through the wall.

"Agent May, release the girls!" Lady Sif orders.

"May, she'll get through," Skye whispers.

"Ignore it. Remember - focus," May says.

"I can't," Skye breathes as Lady Sif breaks the barrier.

May steps back and Skye grabs the agent's ICER, shooting herself with the gun. The rumbling stops and (Y/n) turns to her unconscious girlfriend.

"Skye," (Y/n) whispers, fear spiking through her. "Skye!"

"She harmed herself," Lady Sif says, staring at (Y/n) and Skye, her eyes wide.

(Y/n) pulls her unconscious girlfriend closer to her, her eyes wide.

. . .

"A right to know," Fitz echoes. "What - is that the same way that Sif and the Kree had a right to know?"

"I think this situation's a little bit different, mate," Hunter responds.

"No, you would have done to them exactly what Sif and the Kree wanted to," Fitz argues.

"You don't know that," Simmons says.

"Yes, I do know that!" Fitz yells. "They would - You would - You'd 'handle them'! Mack just said it! Like, uh - Skye and (Y/n) are something to be locked away in a cage somewhere. We should be protecting them."

"No, Fitz," Mack interupts. "We're the ones that need protection from them." Then Mack goes silent, looking over Simmons's shoulder.

Fitz and Simmons turns around, and five SHIELD agents catch sight of (Y/n) and Skye - (Y/n) supporting Skye's weight.

Skye looks into the room, looks away, and then she and (Y/n) start back down the hallway, a disgusted look on (Y/n)'s face, and a large dufflebag thrown over (Y/n)'s other shoulder.

Fitz looks between the other for SHIELD agents, and then follows (Y/n) and Skye.

"Skye. (Y/n)," Fitz calls down the hall, but the two women keep making their way down the hallway.

The two make their way into the BUS, entering the containment module.

"You don't have to stay," Skye tells (Y/n).

"You know I'm not going anywhere, love," (Y/n) murmurs, sitting down beside Skye on the small bed. "Please, rest," (Y/n) says softly lying down on her side and lifting an arm so Skye can cuddle up to her. "We'll figure out something," (Y/n) murmurs. I hope . . .

. . .

"Are you kidding me? A shrink?" Skye asks, (Y/n) sitting next to her on the cot as usual, a frown evident on the Avenger's face.

"It's not personal," May tells the brunette.

"Hell, it's not personal. It's a shrink," Skye argues and (Y/n) places a gentle hand on Skye's knee.

"It's standard procedure for anyo -" May begins.

Skye cuts her off, "No, I know, but we're not just on the Index. We're also SHIELD agents."

"Exactly. So you know it's non-negotiable," May argues right back.

Skye scoffs, shaking her head.

"Andrew is good, and he's done this before," May says, her tone softening.

"So have I. I grew up in the system," Skye replies. "I've been through enough of these to know that I hate them."

"You'll like this one," May tells Skye.

"Yeah, how do you know that?" Skye replies, focusing her gaze on (Y/n)'s hand resting on her knee.

"Because I was married to him," May answers and Skye looks up, her eyes wide with shock.

. . .

(Y/n) looks up from her pan as she notices the pots and pans rattling on the wall.

Skye! she thinks, throwing the hot pan into the sink and unknowingly shifting into a panther, and darting out of the room.

(Y/n)'s powerful shoulder muscles bunch and stretch as she speeds up, a black blur as she streaks past the labs.

(Y/n) charges up the loading doors and up to Skye's room, shifting back into herself.

"Skye! You need to wake up!" (Y/n) exclaims, gently shaking Skye's shoulder.

Skye starts, fixing her gaze on (Y/n)'s (E/c) eyes but then she looks at the door as Dr. Garner, May, Fitz, and Simmons burst into the room.

"Hey. Look at me," (Y/n) reaches out a hand, gently moving Skye's face to look her in the eye. "You need to stop this," (Y/n) kneels down and to her relief, Skye keeps her eyes on (Y/n)'s.

"If she needs a sedative . . ." Simmons begins, but May glares at the scientist.

"You can do it Skye. Just focus," (Y/n) whispers, gazing into Skye's brown eyes.

Skye exhales slowly and the shaking stops.

"No, no. It's good. It's good. It's stopping," Fitz tells Simmons.

Dr. Garner and May exchange a look before fixing their gazes on (Y/n), whose hand is resting on Skye's knee now.

. . .

Skye breathes deeply, looking at her bio-meter watch. "Under seventy," Skye says, taking another breath.

"How are you doing that?" Garner asks.

"May taught me," Skye replies. "You focus on a single point, let everything else become noise disappearing in the background."

"Except it doesn't disappear you're pushing it aside," Garner says, putting his hands on his hips. Which is why, when you were dreaming, the tremors started." Skye swallows thickly. "What were you dreaming about?" Garner asks.

"I don't remember," Skye replies, her cheeks darkening.

"You're seeming defensive," Garner says, frowning.

"Because you keep pushing," Skye argues.

"Because whatever you were feeling was strong enough to shake this entire plane," Garner replies, his brows furrowing.

"Well, I don't know, so let's move on," Skye says, her eyes watery. "How about you show me an inkblot, and I tell you about me and my girlfriend's first time?" Skye asks, leaning forward. The moment she says it though, she regrets it. Their first time had been magical, and Skye had never felt so loved that night.

Garner chuckles. "Humor. So that's your thing. Well, that's an effective way to avoid thinking about how monumentally painful your life is right now."

"Good pep talk," Skye says through gritted teeth. "Thanks," Skye frowns, her brows furrowing.

"Sarcasm. Same purpose - avoidance strategy," Garner says.

"What am I avoiding, exactly?" Skye asks, leaning forward and crossing her legs criss-cross-applesauce on her and (Y/n)'s shared bed.

"The truth," Garner says. "That - not just you, but your girlfriend too - are different now, that you have abilities, your abilities triggered by pain, and either you face that or you don't sleep again."

Skye swallows thickly, her gaze falling on the door, wishing that (Y/n) would walk through the door; wishing that (Y/n) would set her hand on her knee like she always did when Skye was feeling scared or nervous; wishing that (Y/n) would walk through with a carefully picked tub of salted caramel ice cream and two spoons.

. . .

(Y/n) enters the room a moment later holding two spoons and a tub of salted caramel ice cream.

Skye gazes softly at (Y/n) as (Y/n) comes over to sit beside her on their shared bed.

"Dad needed backup," (Y/n) tells Skye as she hands her girlfriend a spoon, then cracking open the tub of ice cream.

Skye leans affectionately against (Y/n), digging her spoon into the carton and making airplane noises like she would to a baby, poking (Y/n)'s lips with the spoon.

(Y/n)'s shoulder shake with silent laughter, and she opens her mouth, eating the spoonful off Skye's spoon.

(Y/n) takes her own spoon, scooping out another bite. She moves it towards Skye's lips. When Skye opens her mouth, (Y/n) steals the bite.

Skye giggles this time, her head falling on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

. . .

"We want everyone to know what you do to people like us," Cal says, his voice echoing through the silent stadium. "And we want you to stop before you do it to her."

"Talking about her?" (Y/n) says through gritted teeth, pushing Skye forward, her unloaded handgun pressed to the side of Skye's neck.

"You monster," Cal turns to (Y/n), his brow furrowing.

(Y/n)," Coulson breathes, looking at his daughter in disbelief.

"Daisy," Cal says, gazing at his daughter. "What have they done to you?"

"We put her on the Index," May says, coming up and pressing her unloaded handgun into the small of Skye's back. "Now we decide - contain her or put her down." May shoves the gun into Skye's back again. "Your call."

"Tell me they didn't hurt you," Cal says, stepping forward to gaze into his daughter's watery eyes.

"Talk to me, not her," (Y/n) presses the gun into Skye's neck, hating herself for being so harsh, but she knows she has to keep up the facade.

. . .

"Skye," Garner says, running over to the brunette. "Come on. Come on."

"(Y/n), go with them," May gives (Y/n) a slight nudge. "You're the only one who can keep her calm."

(Y/n) takes Skye's hand in her own, pulling her along.

Skye's breathing stutters as she watches Coulson and May fight Cal's companions.

Skye breathes deeply and the stadium begins to rumble.

Everyone looks at her and (Y/n) drops Skye's hand, clutching her left wrist.

The rumbling stops and (Y/n) looks over at Skye's hands and lower arms which were darkening with bruises.

. . .

(Y/n) lies down on Skye's stomach, letting out soft kitten purrs that sooth Skye back to sleep, her bruised fingers gently brushing (Y/n)'s orange fur.

(Y/n) had realized that when using her powers, it was more helpful if she knew a lot about the animal she was going to change into.

3rd Person POV

"Andrew's recommending Skye be removed from SHIELD," Coulson tells May. "Effective immediately."

"I agree with his recommendation," May says, her face blank.

Coulson breathes deeply, sitting down in his chair. "I've got to admit . . . I'm surprised to hear you say that."

. . .

"The ankle bone is always the hardest," Coulson says from the doorway, smiling at Skye, who was playing operation.

(Y/n) was asleep on the bed, the top of her head against Skye's thigh.

"Yeah," Skye replies. "Maybe a game of nerves isn't the best idea for me." Skye puts down the board game, and (Y/n) shifts in her sleep, murmuring softly as her head finds its way atop Skye's thigh.

"You and I need to take a ride," Coulson says, and Skye flinches unconsciously, jolting (Y/n) awake.

"Waz goin on?" (Y/n) asks drowsily.

"Skye and I have to go for a ride," Coulson tells his daughter.

(Y/n) sits up sleepily but alert at the same time. "I'm coming too," (Y/n) argues.

Coulson dips his head in acknowledgment.

"Then you'd better pack a bag," Coulson tells the two.

Skye lets out a sigh as Coulson walks out of the room.

(Y/n) gently takes Skye's injured wrists in her own hands, her wrist cast brushing against one of Skye's.

"You don't have to come with me," Skye murmurs to her girlfriend.

"I didn't leave you before," (Y/n) murmurs. "I'm not going to go now."

Skye softens, nuzzling her nose against a scar to the right of (Y/n)'s nose.

(Y/n) smiles shyly, leaning her head forward a little to press a gentle kiss to Skye's lips.

. . .

"I"m sorry about everything that's happening, Skye," Coulson tells his daughter's girlfriend as the jet goes to wherever it's taking them.

"It's not your fault. The blame begins and ends with my dad," Skye replies.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first person to have parents with misguided intentions," Coulson replies, his gaze resting on his daughter, who was asleep in her chair across from them.

"Nope, just the first whose crazy dad lured her to an alien city to get earthquake powers," Skye retorts.

Skye and Coulson share a look of amusement. "Yeah," Coulson says with a smile.

"I got us a little something for the trip," Coulson says, leaning down and the rustling of the backpack wakes (Y/n).

Coulson senses his daughter's awake presence and hands her a Twizzler and (Y/n)'s eyes brighten, taking the piece of licorice.

Skye chuckles and all three bite into their Twizzlers.

"Thing I remember most about my dad is that he was a car guy," Coulson says, and (Y/n) looks at her father in surprise. He didn't like to talk much about his father. "Always working on this junker he insisted I help him fix. While my friends were outside, playing ball, having fun, there I was, stuck at home with him, fixing that damn car. Wasn't till we finished that it hit me. That car was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen at the time." Coulson spares a glance at his daughter and (Y/n) flushes, taking another bite of the candy. "And all the time we'd spent together working on it gave me an appreciation I never would have had otherwise."

"Hold on," Skye says, looking amused. "Was that car a red 1962 Corvette?" she asks, a smile twitching on her lips.

"Yeah," Coulson says with a smile.

"Well, he'd be very proud," Skye says. "You red Corvette flies. How cool is that?" she questions.

"It's pretty cool," Coulson replies.

(Y/n) smiles at the interaction between her father and her girlfriend.

"But the thing I think he'd like most about, is, at her core, she's still just a red '62 Corvette," Coulson says.

"Just to be clear, I-I'm the Corvette in this story?" Skye questions, Coulson smiles gently. "Now, you want to tell us where we're going?" Skye asks.

Coulson pauses, turning away from Skye's question. "We're almost there."

(Y/n) and Skye exchange a look.

. . .

"It's one of Fury's old retreats," Coulson tells his daughter and her girlfriend.

"I haven't been here in years," Coulson goes on.

(Y/n) closes the cabin door behind her and Skye.

"Fury's not the kind of guy that has a cabin just to relax," Skye says.  "What is this place?" she asks.

"It's a safe-house for people with powers," Coulson replies.

"Didn't Steve spend a few weeks here after he was pulled from the ice?" (Y/n) asks, and Coulson nods.

"Okay, but who's it supposed to keep safe -" Skye pauses, "- the people with power or everyone else?"

"Both," Coulson answers. "Skye, (Y/n), I'm afraid I have to pull you from active duty."

Skye nods. "I get it. I do. I just didn't think that you'd lock us up," Skye adds, "like a werewolf during a full moon."

"I think I'm the wolf," (Y/n) jokes and Skye cracks a smile, grateful for (Y/n)'s humor breaking the ice.

"You're not alone here," Coulson says.

"Yeah, I'll be here with you," (Y/n) says and Coulson's lips twitch.

"There's a direct video link to the base, and May will keep dropping by every couple of days," Coulson tells Skye.

"What are we supposed to do?" Skye asks. "Go fishing?"

"Probably not a good idea. There's a laser fence around the perimeter," Coulson advises. "Look, this is a safe place. You can relax here. You both can use this time to get handles on your abilities," Coulson tells the two.

Skye looks like she's about to cry, and (Y/n) crosses the cabin to wrap an arm around Skye's waist. "Yeah, 'cause that's worked great so far," Skye replies, her words catching in her throat.

"Well, maybe it's time we give you and hand with that," Coulson answers.

Coulson steps away to pull out a black box out of a bag. "Simmons has been working around the clock on these."

(Y/n)'s expression hardens at Simmons's name. (Y/n) hadn't been Jemma's biggest fan since the two had received their powers.

"She assures me they'll cut your recovery time in half," Coulson tells Skye, and the brunette walks over, gently detangling herself from (Y/n) to look at what Simmons had made.

"How do they work?" Skye wonders, picking up the gloves.

(Y/n) walks over, looking at Skye's gloves.

"The internal wiring emits a surge of electricity to inhibit your powers," Coulson replies and (Y/n)'s gaze darkens.

"So these take her powers away?" (Y/n) asks angrily.

"They more like decrease their magnitude," Coulson says, "to keep Skye from hurting herself. Like I said, we want her to heal."

"Seems like a no brainier," Skye murmurs, brushing her fingers across the cloth.

"It's a personal call," Coulson replies.

"What do you mean?" Skye asks. "Are there side effects?"

"A few," Coulson replies. "Simmons can go over them with you later."

"Are these gloves really my best option?" Skye asks, her eyes watery.

"I can't answer that question for you, Skye." Coulson says.

"Stop," Skye says, feeling slightly angry. "Stop being this SHIELD guy for just one reason, okay? Please. We've been through way too much together."

(Y/n) steps forward to place a comforting hand on Skye's shoulder but Skye shrugs off the hand. (Y/n) recoils a little, a hurt expression on her face, before she moves over to where she had put the dufflebags on the ground.

(Y/n) carries Skye's bag to one of the rooms, setting it on the bed.

(Y/n) blinks regretfully and she takes her own bag to one of the other rooms, tossing it infront of the closet door. She lies down on the bed, her back to the door, hugging a pillow to her chest.

"(Y/n)?" Skye's voice is soft, the brunette framed in the doorway. The (E/c) eyed woman remains silent, and there is a pang in Skye's heart.

The brunette moves over to the bed, and tucks a blanket around (Y/n)'s frame.

"I'm sorry," Skye murmurs. "I love you."

(Y/n) turn over, looking into Skye's eyes, as though trying to see if the brunette was being genuine.

"I'm sorry too," (Y/n) replies. "I love you."

Skye lets out a soft noise and climbs into the bed beside (Y/n). (Y/n) throws the blanket over her love, wrapping her arms tightly around Skye's frame.

Skye whimpers softly at (Y/n)'s affection, burying her face in (Y/n)'s neck.

"We'll figure this out," (Y/n) murmurs.

. . .

"Sir," Fitz gets up from his chair to talk to the director. "Where are Skye and (Y/n)?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential," Coulson replies.

"'Cause you're keeping them prisoner somewhere, aren't you?" Fitz asks.

"Skye and (Y/n) are safe, Agent Fitz," Coulson says, frowning at the scientist. "That's all you need to know.

Fitz lets out a sigh as Coulson walks away. Then, he looks over her shoulder at Simmons, and Simmons meets his gaze sourly.

"You took something -" Fitz begins, walking towards Simmons at her desk, "- up to Coulson earlier. What was it?" he asks.

"It was nothing," Simmons replies.

"Didn't look like nothing," Fitz says, his eyes watery. "What was in the case, Jemma?" he questions, leaning  towards the other scientist.

"Something to help Skye," Simmons answers.

"Because you want to change her," Fitz retorts, pointing at Simmons. "Is that it?"

"Stop it," Simmons snaps. "I don't want to change her. Or (Y/n)," she adds before Fitz can say anything. "The Diviner did that. I'm just trying to fix them."

Fitz stares at his fellow scientist. "You never used to be this scared. You know that?" he asks finally.

"Trip died, Fitz," Simmons replies, "all because we didn't take the necessary precautions."

"No, it's not that. You're afraid," Fitz states. "'Cause of what happened to me, (Y/n), and Skye, how all three of us changed." Fitz pauses, "Well, you know what the scariest change is, Jemma?" Simmons looks at her friend. "It's you."

Fitz crosses his arms, and leaves the lab.

. . .

"It's a little weird here," Skye says, looking at the computer screen. "But we're settling in."

(Y/n) smiles softly at her girlfriend as she cuts up some potatoes.

"We've played a few dozen games of cards," Skye goes on.

"Well, May will be there in a few, so don't give up on cards yet," Simmons replies.

"Who do we have to thank for the Little Debbie snack cakes?" (Y/n) calls and Skye grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"That was Coulson's idea," Simmons says, letting her head rest in her hand. "But I did pick you two out some nice gluten-free biscuits," Simmons goes on, brightening a little.

"Ah. Yeah, I'll - I'll - I'll look for those," Skye stumbles over her words, trying to sound excited and (Y/n) chuckles, putting the potatoes into a pan and sliding them into the oven.

"Have you tried on the gloves yet?" Simmons asks and (Y/n)'s expression sours a little.

"I have not, but I - I will," Skye admits.

"Well, when you're feeling up to it, it might be work giving them a go," Simmons says cheerfully. "They're obviously just a prototype," Simmons goes on, "but they're laced with a microthread I designed, which should accelerate your healing and dampen the vibrations. I just want you to be safe, Skye. You know that, right?" Simmons asks.

"I do," Skye says. "It means a lot, Jemma, thank you."

"Okay then, call me if you need anything," Simmons tells Skye.

"I will," Skye replies. "Bye."

. . .

A few minutes later, (Y/n) sets the plates down on the table, and Skye looks impressed.

"How do you do this?" Skye asks through a bite of potato.

“My dad was a terrible cook when I was younger,” (Y/n) admits, her eyes sparkling at the memories. “The only good thing he could make was -”

“Grilled cheese?” Skye finishes, taking a bit of her burger.

“It’s so, so good,” (Y/n) says. “What does he put in that grilled cheese to make it so good?” she questions aloud.

. . .

A little later, (Y/n) and Skye are nursing steaming mugs of hot chocolate, Skye stoking the fire in the fireplace so they could roast some marshmallows (Y/n) had stashed away in her backpack.

Skye lets out a sigh, then fixes her gaze on the open box sitting on the kitchen table.

Skye gets to her feet and pads over to the box. (Y/n) sets her mug on the coffee table on a coaster before moving to stand behind Skye.

“Do you want me to help you?” (Y/n) asks, taking one of the gloves from the box in her hand.

Skye blinks up at (Y/n) and then nods.

(Y/n)’s fingers gently brush Skye’s arms, rolling up her sleeves, and Skye inhales shakily.

(Y/n) pauses, her eyes wide with concern.

“Go ahead,” Skye murmurs.

(Y/n) stretches out the gloves a little, and, as gently as she can, slides them over Skye’s bruised hand.

Skye inhales sharply and (Y/n) flinches as she pulls away.

“No, you’re okay,” Skye says. “Put the other one on,” Skye tells her.

(Y/n) looks hesitant but then grabs the other glove, and gently tries to slide it onto Skye’s other wrist.

“Thank you,” Skye says, her eyes warm with affection.

Then, the gloves glow with a blue light, and Skye staggers, a surge of pain flowing through her.

Skye sways, and (Y/n) moves over to put her arms around Skye’s shoulders.

“Hey,” (Y/n) murmurs. “You okay?” she asks, looking a little scared.

Skye doesn’t reply, looking dazed.

There is a slight whooshing noise, and Skye looks around, looking a little less dazed.

(Y/n) sets Skye down on the couch before she moves over to the door, initiating the laser grid around the cabin.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on a movement outside the window. She slides the curtain closed.

Skye looks a little spooked. “Fitz,” Skye murmurs, “why did you make me watch ‘Paranormal Activity’?” she questions.

Electricity crackles, and Skye looks around, her eyes wide eyed.

Skye gets to her feet, and grabs the poker from the fireplace, holding it like a sword.

(Y/n) places a hand on the door knob.

The door creaks as it opens.

(Y/n) and Skye peer through the open door.

(Y/n) looks at her girlfriend, a look of confusion on her face. Then, she closes the door.

Skye moves towards the couch, but there is another knock on the door.

(Y/n) swallows thickly, turning. She raises her injured hand to keep Skye from moving any closer.

(Y/n) makes for the door, and throws it open. Her brows furrow as she sees the older man framed in the doorway.

“Hello Skye, (Y/n),” the man says. “I’m Gordon.” Skye moves forward, standing at (Y/n)’s shoulder. “May I come in?” he asks.

Skye levels the poker Gordon as he steps into the cabin. He chuckles, “So, what is the plan with that?” he asks.

Skye watches him cautiously and (Y/n) closes the cabin’s door.

“You . . . You can see?” Skye questions.

Gordon hums, seemingly considering Skye’s question. “Not the way you do, but I can see that you are afraid,” Gordon answers. (Y/n) puts a hand on Skye’s bisep. “You don’t need to be,” Gordon goes on. “Not with me.”

“Who are you?” Skye asks.

“I’m like the two of you,” Gordon replies. “And I’ve come here as a friend. Can’t imagine how it must have felt to go through your transformations without any understanding of what to expect.” Gordon turns away to ‘look’ around the cabin. “I had years to prepare. And still,” Gordon chuckles, “I was horrified by that I became. Granted,” Gordon adds, “I was younger.” Gordon gestures to the couch behind him. “May I sit?” he asks.

“Sure,” (Y/n) replies.

Gordon smiles, plopping down onto the couch, and (Y/n) and Skye sit down on the coffee table.

“This couch is very uncomfortable,” Gordon says. Skye watches the older man. “I wish you wouldn’t stare,” Gordon says.

“I -” Skye begins.

“T-that was a joke,” Gordon says, lifting a hand to wave Skye off. “I’m not very good at them. I don’t mind that you’re curious, honestly. And, yes, I used to have eyes. They were blue. This . . .” Gordon gestures to his face, “. . . this was the obvious change for me, but what happens inside can be just as profound. You see, the mist changes everyone differently,” Gordon tells them. “The real difference between the three of us is what happened after we went through the mist.

“What do you mean?” Skye asks, her voice quavering and (Y/n) takes her hand squeezing it gently.

“Well, I knew from an early age how special I was - had a mentor, a guide of sorts. The first thing she did after I transformed was embrace me. Tell me, Skye, (Y/n), what was the first thing SHIELD did to you?”

Both Skye and (Y/n) look down at the gloves that Simmons had made for Skye. Skye’s wooziness had flashed in (Y/n)’s subconscious.

“What do they feel like?” Gordon asks. “Your gifts?” he clarifies.

“I don’t know. Um . . .” she falters. “It’s intense,” she says after a moment. She sighs. “Like 1,000 bees are trapped inside of me. And I feel it all the time. It’s always there.” She pauses, looking at her gloved hands. “And I can’t stop it.”

“Why would you want to stop it?” Gordon asks.

“Because I destroy everything around me,” Skye says and (Y/n) wraps an arm around Skye’s shoulders.

“That’s simply not true,” Gordon says. “Every object in this universe gives off a vibration. Did you know that?” Gordon gets up from the couch. “Nothing rests - animals, trees, people, even this ratty couch. And you, Skye, have the ability to tap into those vibrations. Don’t you see?” he asks. “You could become magnificent.”

“I already think you’re magnificent,” (Y/n) murmurs in Skye’s ear, and Skye smiles softly.

“But something’s inhibiting you, constraining your energy,” Gordon goes on, not having heard the interaction.

“Uh, no. No, no,” Skye says, looking at her gloved wrists. “My, um - friend’s a scientist. She was just trying to protect me.”

“Or do they protect people from you?” Gordon asks, and (Y/n) hides her injured wrist.

“No, it’s not like that,” Skye tries to argue. “My powers, I - I can’t control them. And when I try to, it hurts me.”

“Most gifts come with a price,” Gordon says. Gordon then turns back to (Y/n). “What about yours?” he asks.

“It’s just like a stirring feeling,” (Y/n) replies. As she goes on, she carefully avoids Skye’s gaze. “It depends on who I’m around. Sometimes it’s intense, and I feel nauseous, and other times it’s more gentle.”

Gordon fixes his ‘gaze’ on (Y/n).

“Is there a certain person, or group of people, where it’s less intense?” Gordon asks.

“There are,” (Y/n) says vaguely, squeezing Skye’s hand that had fallen down to gently rest on (Y/n)’s thigh.

“I apologize. I’m saying too much,” Gordon says, as though feeling (Y/n)’s unease. “This is probably not the best place to continue our conversation. Neither of you have to have the tools or the understanding that you need just yet.”

“To do what?” Skye asks.

“To be who you were always meant to be without fear, without pain,” Gordon replies. “We can offer that to you. Both of you.”

“How?” (Y/n) asks.

“I can take you both to a place where you can be with people like us,” Gordon answers.

“Us?” Skye asks, getting up from (Y/n)’s side. “How many are there?”

“You can learn about yourselves, your gifts,” Gordon says. “You’ll both be safe, but only if you want to come.”

Skye lets out a quavering sigh.

“When you’re ready, I’ll find you,” Gordon says, buttoning up his jacket.

“How will you find -” Skye begins.

“Trust me. I’ll know,” Gordon interrupts, moving towards the door.

There’s a crackle of electricity and Gordon disappears.

(Y/n) gets up from her place on the coffee table and moves over to Skye, wrapping her arms around her waist, and letting her chin rest on Skye’s shoulder.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” (Y/n) murmurs.

“It’s been a long day,” Skye agrees, her eyes closing with contentment and leaning back into (Y/n)’s embrace.

After a moment, Skye looks down at her gloved hands. (Y/n) gently sits Skye down on one of the couches.

Skye closes her fists, breathing out slowly as pain spikes through her. She pulls the gloves off after a moment, looking at her bruised hands.

(Y/n) sits down on the coffee table, across from Skye. She takes Skye’s hands gently in her own, her thumbs brushing along the dark bruises.

“Maybe you should try running some cold water over your hands,” (Y/n) suggests, her eyes soft.

Skye looks lovingly at her girlfriend. Skye stands up and moves to the sink, turning the water on and running her hands under the water.

Skye looks down as the water makes more of a whistling noise. The water is bending.

Skye lets out a laugh as she wills the water to straighten itself out with her powers.

(Y/n) sighs happily at Skye’s relief, smiling warmly.

Skye’s phone rings, and Skye crosses over to the desk, picking it up and answering it.

“Hello?” Skye asks.

“Skye,” May says.

“May, what’s happening?” Skye asks, and (Y/n) turns to Skye. “I couldn’t connect to you guys?”

“You and (Y/n) need to get out of there now,” May replies, ignoring Skye’s question.

“What? Why? What are you talking about?” Skye asks more urgently, and (Y/n) sits up straighter.

“There’s a panel on the Southwest corner of the compound,” May tells Skye. “It’ll let you bring down the laser-grid fence.”

“May, stop,” Skye says quickly.

“You two can do this. I believe in you,” May says.

“Skye? What’s going on?” (Y/n) asks, looking worried at the expression of confusion on Skye’s face.

“You both need to run - now,” May says urgently, and Skye’s expression turns horrified. “They’re coming for you.”

“Who - who’s coming for us?” Skye asks, and (Y/n)’s expression hardens.

(Y/n) moves to the bedroom where she had thrown her dufflebag, and she pulls two handguns from the bag.

“SHEILD?” Skye repeats as (Y/n) moves back into the living room.

(Y/n) hands Skye one of the handguns and the power goes off.

Skye moves forward, pressing her forehead to (Y/n)’s for a moment.

(Y/n) grabs Skye’s hand, leading her to the door. She flings the door open, stepping out into the night.

There is the sound of a quinjet whirring and a horrified expression on her face.

“Stay close,” (Y/n) closes her eyes, thinking of the powerful muscles, small, sharp eyes, dark black fur, and sharp ears.

Skye looks down at her girlfriend, who had shifted into a fluffy, green eyed, black cat.

(Y/n) paws her girlfriend, mewling softly.

There are flashes of light above. “Oh my God,” Skye mutters.

(Y/n) lets out another meow, and Skye starts.

(Y/n) breaks into a run, Skye following her.

(Y/n)’s muscles bunch and stretch as she streaks through the forest.

Skye pants heavily as she follows (Y/n) at a run, trying to avoid the beams of light from the quinjets above.

Skye bumps into a figure, and (Y/n) steadies her girlfriend with a hand, having shifted back to herself.

(Y/n) takes Skye’s hand and the two creep through the forest.

A SHIELD agent points a gun at (Y/n)’s face, and as he pulls the trigger, (Y/n) thrusts the gun up towards the sky.

With a few well placed punches, the agent falls to the ground.

“We’ve got to go,” (Y/n) says, grabbing Skye’s hand again.

The two sprint through the woods.

They come to a clearing, where (Y/n) and Skye come across another agent who levels their gun at (Y/n).

(Y/n) lets go of Skye’s hand and steps forward, knocking the gun from the agent’s hand.

Both SHIELD agents move to hand-to-hand combat. The male agent’s fist smacks into (Y/n)’s nose, and blood gushes from it.

(Y/n) sweeps her leg behind the agent’s leg, and he crashes heavily to the ground.

“Skye! No!” comes Bobbi’s scream and (Y/n) moves in front of Skye, shielding the brunette’s body with her own.

(Y/n) collapses to the ground, the bullet lodged in the back of her knee.

Skye lets out a wail, slumping to the ground, a surge of energy exploding out of her, shredding the trees around the clearing.

A shard of wood pierces the agent who had shot (Y/n) in the shoulder; Bobbi lands on the ground on her side, and trees splinter.

Bobbi looks up dazedly, watching Skye, who had buried her face into (Y/n)’s jacket, the brunette’s eyes filling with tears.

“Gordon, help,” Skye whispers.

There is a flash of blue light and Gordon lands beside (Y/n) and Skye.

Gordon leans down, places his hands on Skye and (Y/n)’s shoulders, and they disappear in another flash of blue light.

. . .

(Y/n) stirs. Her nose and her knee felt uncomfortably better. Then she realizes that, one, she isn’t with Skye; two, she was basically naked, cloths were draped over her chest, torso, and her pelvis area, and three; there were needles sticking from just about every place in her body.

“Hey,” comes Gordon’s voice through (Y/n)’s drowsiness. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe now.”

“Gordon, where am I?” (Y/n) asks, her words slurring a little. “Where’s Skye?”

“This is the place I told you about. Skye called for me,” Gordon replies. “Skye’s in the next room over.”

“How long have I been here?” (Y/n) asks, trying to get to her feet, but the needles in her skin make it impossible for her to get up.

“Two days,” Gordon says, and (Y/n) stops struggling to look at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve got to go,” (Y/n) says, struggling to get up again. “What the hell are you doing to me?” (Y/n) asks.

“We’re healing you,” comes another voice. “Leaving now wouldn’t exactly be -” the man chuckles, “ - you ever made microwave popcorn?” the man asks, coming into view.

The man was blonde, had a five o’clock shadow, and was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans.

“Of course, who hasn’t?” (Y/n) questions.

“Leave it in too long, and it’s charcoal,” the man goes on. “Take it out too soon and it’s a bag of kernels.”

“That’s a horrible analogy,” (Y/n) retorts.

The man nods in agreement.

“Imagine a thousand years of evolution all happening at once,” the man says once Gordon had left. “That’s what happened to you after the mist. These treatments - we’re helping your body adjust properly to the change transitioning you quickly and painlessly, I hope.”

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, I’m Lincoln, your transitioner,” Lincoln replies.

“How long?” (Y/n) asks. “When can I go?” (Y/n) asks.

“You got places to be, people to see?” Lincoln asks, looking a little amused.

“My girlfriend,” (Y/n) replies shortly, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “My friends and my dad; I think they’re in danger.”

“You’re the one that’s in danger, (Y/n),” LIncoln replies. “Remember? You’re being hunted. You came here with a broken nose, a fractured wrist, and a bullet lodged in the back of your knee.”

. . .

(Y/n) surges forward, wrapping Skye in a tight hug.

There is a moment of silence and then Lincoln says, “Let’s walk?”

. . .

“This place is more like a way station,” Lincoln says, (Y/n) walking close to Skye though Afterlife, their hands brushing with every arm swing. “I’m from Cincinnati, trying to finish Med School. I’m brought here when I’m needed. Some people come here when they need a safe place to stay.”

“Why do I feel like the new kid in school right now?” Skye asks and (Y/n) grins. “Everyone is staring at us.”

The grin slides off (Y/n)’s face, and she realizes that everyone was looking at her and Skye.

“Gordon didn’t explain?” Lincoln asks.

“No, I thought you said that everyone here is like us and that this happens all the . . . time,” Skye says.

Lincoln chuckles, “Are you kidding? T-this has never happened. Things here have always been done a certain way. These people are descendents, yes, but most of them are waiting to be chosen. They carry the genetic marker and have been brought here to be evaluated, cultured, and prepared for the change should they be selected, but that only happens to one person every few years.”

“They actually want to go through?” (Y/n) asks, remembering her and Skye’s own experience in the alien city.

“This tradition has been passed down through countless generations -” Lincoln begins.

“And we jumped the line,” Skye finishes.

“And not only did you go through without permission or prep, but you went through the old school way with a Diviner and a Kree temple. Uh, that hasn’t happened for thousands of years.”

“Look, we’re revolutionaries,” (Y/n) jokes.

But Lincoln continues, “You can see why some of these people might be a little envious.”

(Y/n) winces, “Nevermind.”

“I’d gladly change places with any of them,” Skye says and (Y/n) nods in agreement.

“We didn’t want this,” (Y/n) adds grimly.

“I understand,” Lincoln replies.

“Uh, the woman who changed with us, Raina . . .” Skye begins, “. . . Gordon took her and my father. Are they here?” Skye asks.

“Gordon takes people everywhere,” Lincoln replies. “It’s his job to keep us safe. I promise, there is no one here who will harm you. You’re both protected here.”

. . .

“This is yours, for as long as you want it,” Lincoln says, leading Skye and (Y/n) into a room.

“Gordon brought your bags from the cabin,” Lincoln says. “So, you know, take some time, try to relax.”

“Relax?” Skye asks, scoffing. “This’ll be our fourth bed in the past week, and we’ve been locked up, quarantined, psychoanalyzed.”

“Let me guess. To protect you from yourselves,” Lincoln says. Lincoln picks Skye’s gloves off of one of the tables. “These seriously compromised the transition process. It’s one of the reasons, uh, you were out for so long,” he tells Skye.

“Our friend - She was just . . . trying to help,” Skye says, her eyes watery.

“I mean, she thought she was dealing with human biology,” Lincoln says, “but you graduated from that class. I’m going to take a closer look at these, uh, meanwhile, try to get some rest. Tomorrow, maybe we’ll see what gifts you’ve been given.”

“It’s more like a curse,” Skye replies as Lincoln walks away.

“A lot of us feel that way at first, but you’ll learn to control it,” Lincoln says.

“I don’t want to control it - I want to get rid of it,” Skye retorts. “That’s why I called Gordon. I thought he would be able to fix me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lincoln says. “I-I thought you knew. The transition is irreversible.”

Lincoln leaves the room and Skye buries her face into (Y/n)’s chest.

. . .

“I need you to give a message to my friends, let them know we’re okay,” Skye tells Gordon as she, Lincoln, and (Y/n) walk through Afterlife again the next day.

“I can ask permission but they’ll advise it, it’s better we stay quiet for the time being,” Gordon replies.

“Uh . . . wait,” Skye says, as Gordon walks away, and Gordon turns back around. “My father and Raina - where did you take them?”

“I can’t divulge their location, just as I can’t divulge yours,” Gordon replies. “But you don’t need to worry about them.” Gordon says, turning and walking away.

“What does he mean, ‘ask permission’?” (Y/n) asks Lincoln. “Ask permission from who?”

“The Elders,” Lincoln answers. “Who two have made a lot of people afraid - afraid that our secret won’t be safe for much longer.”

Skye watches Gordon.

“Come on,” Lincoln says, and (Y/n) and Skye follow.

. . .

Skye busts through the doors. “Raina!” (Y/n) trailing after her.

“Skye, (Y/n), isn’t this interesting? I had a feeling I might be seeing the two of you,” Raina says calmly.

“Skye, (Y/n),” Lincoln runs into the room, “please, let’s go.”

“Let them stay,” Raina says. “We have so much to talk about.”

“What happened to you?” Skye asks, sounding horrified.

“Destiny . . . apparently,” Raina retorts. “I wanted to be set free, but now I can’t even bear the light of day. I dread being awake. But my sleep is filled with such horrible nightmares.” Raina inhales sharply. “Children are so afraid of monsters,” Raina gets to her feet. “They should know it’s worse to be one,” Raina goes on.

“You got what you deserved,” Skye says, her voice quavering.

“And so did you,” Raina snaps.

“We didn’t deserve any of this,” Skye growls. “You did this to us!”

“Skye,” (Y/n) murmurs.

“No,” Skye straightens up, “You have brought nothing but pain into my life - my father, the mist. My friend Trip died in there because of you!”

“I didn’t make either of you follow me into that chamber,” Raina replies calmly. “You wanted to go, Skye. You needed to go because we’re the same, Skye.” Skye shakes her head. “We were the same before, and we’re the same now. I am on the outside, what you are on the inside.” Raina pulls off her hood, and (Y/n) puts a hand on Skye’s shoulder, pulling her back a little.

Skye starts losing control of her powers and Raina falls to her knees.

“Enough,” comes a new voice and Skye stops, startled and breathing heavily.

“Who are you?” Skye asks.

“My name is Jiaying,” the woman replies. “You’re both guests in my house.”

“You don’t know her,” Skye retorts. “You have no idea what she’s capable of.”

“She’s capable of beauty and greatness, just as we all are,” Jiaying says.

“She can’t be trusted. She killed people!” Skye growls.

“From what Gordon tells me, you could have, as well,” Jiaying replies calmly. “And from what I just saw, you’re certainly capable of it.” Jiaying moves over to help Raina up, and then Jiaying turns to watch Skye again.

(Y/n) once again reaches out a hand, pulling Skye back. Jiaying raises an eyebrow as (Y/n) murmurs something in Skye’s ear.

“We can’t stay - not if she’s here,” Skye’s eyes narrow.

“We’ll leave that choice to the two of you, but I have chosen to be your guides, should you remain with us.”

A slightly shocked look flashes on Lincoln’s face.

“All I ask is for a few days,” Jiaying goes on. “I’ll look after you, train you, watch you grow. And if you don’t feel a connection between us worth exploring, well . . . we never have to see each other again.”

As the woman goes on, (Y/n) has the strangest feeling like this was more personal then just training a random girl that happened to stumble into your home.

. . .

Jiaying and Gordon teleport into Cal’s wrecked room.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Cal asks, his fists bandaged. “She’s here.” Jiaying smiles. “I told you I would find her, and I did.”

“You were right, Cal,” Jiaying replies. “It’s Daisy, our daughter.” Jiaying pauses. “I think you’re wrong about the other girl,” she goes on. “She doesn't seem bad for our Daisy.”

Cal glowers. “You don’t know what she’s done.”

Word Count: 8961 words

Skye / Daisy Johnson Taglist:

@imapotato

@confusinggemini612

@marie45019

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[woolieshubris]

Aquarium Date Fic !! Kagehina, but kag!asd. Kageyama pov. 2k words, oneshot. Tw : Sensory Overload! (it's present throughout the whole fic) Made partially for @spixi and partially so i could prove to myself that i can If there's a typo no there isnt <3 If you are an IRL this post doesn't exist <3

I typed out my message and pressed send, throwing my phone onto my bed.

Maybe I should go grab a snack or something... I think to myself, when I suddenly hear my phone buzzing against my pillow, and I dive to grab it. He replied to my message. That was fast.

Me : Hey we should go to the aquarium tomorrow.

Hinata : Okay :D sounds good 2 me!

Quickly, with my face quickly going beet red, I drop my phone and go to the kitchen to grab something to stuff my face with. I'm shaking, but as long as I walk quietly, I doubt my family will notice I'm even out of my room.

How should I reply? A thumbs up might be good, but it might be too cold. Any other reply is probably too much... Whatever. I'll go with the thumbs up.

I head back into my room and pick up my phone, typing a thumbs up emoji before covering my face again.

F/ck, I need to come up with something to wear, don't I..?

---

I arrive at the train station, feeling like I probably packed too much. I brought a backpack with an extra phone battery, 2 charging cables, (because Hinata has an apple phone,) and a bunch of snacks, as well as a water bottle.

Did I put on deodorant today??? I can't tell... If so, I'm probably already sweating through it. I start to feel sick to my stomach, but I don't have time to finish that thought when I spot Hinata walking in from a distance. He seems to be wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, and suddenly I feel overdressed in my jeans.

"Hey! Don't worry, I already bought my train ticket. You ready to go?" He asked while walking up to me. He didn't bring as much as a backpack, and I'm suddenly relieved that I brought so much.

"Yeah. It's coming in 2 minutes. I half expected you to be late." I stated, before realizing what I said. Sh/t! That was rude, wasn't it? I have to be nicer. Ugh. Hinata punctures my worries with a laugh.

"I'm not late that often, am I?" He states. This makes me feel a little worse about my comment.

"Hm. Just often enough." I state, carefully picking my words. I can't backtrack now, but I can try to redirect my speech to seem less biting.

"You only say I'm late because of last time!" He keeps laughing, keeping the mood light. I wish I could speak as easily as him.

"And possibly the time before that?" I reply. This is probably what he wants me to say.

"Shhhhh. What matters is I got here on time AND I have my ticket ready. Don't worry, I also brought enough for the aquarium ticket too!" He states, smiling. His smile is adorable, almost cute enough to distract me from what he just said.

"Oh, I was planning on paying for that." I reply without thinking.

"Ehh? Do you owe me or something? Should I be asking you for money?"

"No, no. I just thought...?" I'm really confused now. I was the one who asked HIM out, right? He knows how these things usually go, right? Maybe he just doesn't know...

"By the way, where are the others? I thought they would have arrived by now."

The... others? What others? The team??? This is a date, right? Wait...

I DIDN'T TELL HIM. I DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DATE. F/CK.

"I didn't invite them." I respond, my subconscious taking care of what my brain is trying to catch up to.

"You really find them that annoying? I know Tsukki and Yamaguchi can be a bit much sometimes but...?" Confusion flashes across Hinata's face.

"I just wanted to hang out with you. Is that a crime?" I answered before my brain could filter out that last comment. It would be useful in getting him to stop pushing, but it's far too rude for a date. Not that Hinata knows that last part anyway. I wish I could take my words back.

"You should be honored that I said yes in the first place." Hinata teases, my face turning red.

If only he knew what he said yes to.

---

Hinata and I managed to keep from fighting on the 30 minute train ride, which was a feat in and of itself.

I can't ruin this date.

"Hey, Kageyama? It looks like there is a student discount, and it also seems like there is a discount for groups. What do you think would be cheaper?" Hinata elbowed me, bringing me back into focus. I look up. He and I are both equally sh/t at math.

"Uh... Let's do the group discount? I'll pay for it. You can pay me back later." As if I'd let him do that. Hinata bought my excuse though.

"Okay! I can buy you lunch or something." He quickly walked up to the desk, and I followed him. "Can we have 2 tickets?"

Wait. Wasn't I supposed to buy them? If I was the one paying, aren't I supposed to ask? Is Hinata planning on paying???

"Oh, sorry, He'll be paying!" Hinata stated, gesturing towards me.

"Yes. Here's the cash." I quickly press down the bills that were almost getting damp from stress. I had already looked online at ticket prices, and made sure to set aside the perfect amount of money for two tickets in my pockets.

"Great! Let's head inside!" Hinata grabs the tickets, holding mine for me. We go up to the metal detector and I get my bag checked. Hinata, possibly because he has my ticket, or possibly out of kindness, waits for me.

"Can you hand me my ticket real quick?" I ask, throwing my bag back onto my shoulder.

"Sure, let's go in." We walk into the main lobby area, waiting to get our tickets checked. The aquarium is beautiful, and oh so huge. The high ceilings, and smell of saltwater, the giant whale sculpture that I can only assume is life size, and the concrete flooring, these things that on a glance are grand, start to give me a pit in my stomach.

"Kageyama! Come on!"

I look at the horizon line, and recenter myself. A quick yet deep breath and I'm ready to go. I walk up, and turn in my ticket in order to get a wristband.

"Kageyama?" Hinata states, causing me to look over at him. "Can you help me put this on? I can never do it by myself." He holds up the paper slip.

"Yeah, sure." I say without thinking. I wrap it around his wrist.

"Hey, make sure not to make it too tight. They are a pain to get off if you don't give them enough breathing room." I nod my head, and make sure to give him a gap.

"There you go." I let go of his arm, realizing just then how warm my hand is. I can feel my face getting warm too.

"Okay, let me do you now." He quickly fits the bracelet to my arm. "It's perfect! Let's go inside. I wanna see this penguin exhibit that I've been hearing so much about. I keep seeing ads for it and I've wanted to see it forever-"

Hinata kept talking. I don't think he ever stopped talking. It's nice though. It makes it easier to not focus on the huge building, or the shifting lighting, or the crowds, or the ambient music that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Yup. I'm not focusing on any of that. Not. At. All.

My feet keep walking, despite my worrying. Hinata eventually slows, stopping before the largest piece of glass I've ever seen in my entire life. A giant tank filled with fish. The glass is taller than my house, longer than 3 busses, and blue and endless enough to make my heart stop in my chest.

F/ck.

Hinata turns around, and finds a bench to sit on, patting the seat next to him, while staring into the blue void. You feel like you have to bow down to its majesty. It is terrifyingly blue, terrifyingly enormous. I have never feared the ocean before, but I fear it in this very moment. A spotted whale shark swims past, paying no attention to the many people standing right against the glass.

"I could sit here forever." Hinata practically whispers. The giant tank orders your complete and utter silence. Even amongst a giant crowd, even with the littlest of children, everyone is quiet. The large speakers playing calming bass tones over the crowd of people, barely vibrating the floor.

"Hm. Me too." I reply. I could sit here forever, I feel like I already have sat here for infinity. Like its presence is something I could never escape. The pit in my stomach grows further. I break eye contact with the tank, reaching in my backpack. The zipper can barely be heard over the ambient noise of people shuffling. Was there always that sound? I bend down to look in my backpack. What was I going to get?

"Do you want a snack? I brought some granola bars." I state as I feel Hinata's eyes looking down at me.

"Actually, that sounds really good right now. I was just thinking about food." He states, bringing his head down to meet mine. I rustle around in my bag, and grab out a bar. It is barely bent. Passing it to him over my shoulder, he grabs it and unwraps it, sitting on the bench with his legs crossed.

"Sooo, what exhibit did you want to see?" He asks, taking a bite after.

"What do you mean?" I reply, choking down the pit in my stomach.

"Like... you invited me out here. So, what was it that you wanted to see?" He takes another bite.

"Uh. I just like fish, I guess." I look over at the tank, trying to avoid his gaze. I doubt he'll buy it, but it doesn't really matter.

"Me too! Let's go into the jellyfish room next? I can see the entrance to the penguins here and it looks packed. Explains why it's so much emptier here." He set his feet back on the ground and stood up, waiting for me to join him.

I leaned back down to zip up my bag, and we walked through a doorway into a smaller, darker room. Blacklights lit up the moon jellies as they calmly glided across the tank. Hinata seemed to drift off, but I didn't mind. It would probably be a good idea to be apart for a bit. I could calm down and collect myself quickly.

I walk up to the tiny seahorse exhibit, and look into the tank. I can't see them at all... I thought, when suddenly, I felt my forehead bump up against the glass.

How did I get close enough to bump up against it?

I go to look for a wall to lean up against. Leaning against something should help keep the pit down. I do a quick glance around the room. There are no walls. Only glass, and only fish. I hate fish.

Taking yet another deep and quick breath, I go back to meet up with Hinata. He was looking at a different kind of seahorse.

"Okay, I think I'm ready to go to the next section now." Hinata said, glancing away from the fish and over to the exit door. I nodded, and lightened up the scowl that was forming on my face. I didn't even notice it was happening until I felt my eyebrows aching from the effort. I just hope he didn’t notice.

The exit of the jellyfish room led to a balcony overlooking a lower floor. This must be the back of the aquarium. Below us there seemed to be a small cafe overlooking the sea.

"Here, let's go get some food! I can pay you back for the ticket that way." Hinata pulled my arm over to the down escalator. I step on right after him, and look down at the cafe.

It was very large, and honestly reminded me more of a cafeteria than a cafe, with lots of seating. After we reach the end of the escalator, he walked over to stand in line and stare at the menu. Looking for a good seat, I grab one right by the large window facing the water and set down my bag. I pull out the small amounts of snacks I've already brought to claim the seat and go over to Hinata.

"Hey, so I'm thinking about getting a sandwich. What do you want?" He stood, facing the menu.

"Honestly, just get me whatever you think I'd like." I state. I can't focus on the menu right now; I just don't have the energy to.

"Hmmm... Okay!" Hinata walks up to the register, while I go back to our seats. I'll probably regret that choice very soon, but I have backup food anyways, and I'm sure he'll eat whatever I don't, so it's not like the food will be wasted.

---

What the hell did he order??

I look at my plate, not quite understanding what the dish is even supposed to be.

"You said to get you whatever." He said with a smile, taking a bite of his sandwich right after.

"Whatever I might LIKE. What even is this?" I poked my dish with a spork, and it seemed to swallow it whole.

"No idea. I just pointed at the dish in the buffet." He shrugged. "I thought it might be funny, but it's less funny than I hoped. I expected more of a reaction." He looked up with the last sentence, making eye contact with me, which I broke a moment after.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? What are you saying sorry for? Since when did you say sorry anyways?" There was slight worry behind his voice, though it was hard to tell through his wide grin. To avoid answering, I quickly shove the food in my face. It's not great, but it's not really all that bad either. It's a little cold from sitting out.

"It's.... good." I say with a stuffed face. This causes him to start laughing again.

"You look super angry! That's the sort of reaction I was expecting." When did I even start scowling again? When I took a bite of the food, probably.

"You try it." I say, stealing a chip from his bag.

"I was the one who bought it anyway. I was half expecting you to make me eat it." Am I really that predictable? He took a bite, and made a variety of expressions, before settling on confusion.

"I wouldn't call it good. Maybe okay? It's definitely at least okay." He nodded to himself, taking a sip of water after.

"So, where to after this?" I ask.

---

We ended up on the train home while the sun was setting. It's almost to our stop. It felt so short, but we ended up hanging out for 5 hours. I almost forgot that I wanted it to be a date. I had to give up on that a while ago.

"Hey, we have to get off soon, get ready." I say, tapping his knee.

"Hm? Oh." He wakes up, blinking a few times and leaning forwards in his seat. He glances out the window.

The train stops, and we walk off onto the station platform.

"See you at practice tomorrow!" He says with a large smile, walking backwards towards the exit.

"See you." I reply, gripping the shoulder straps of my bag. I looked down

"I had a nice time on our date!" and with the last word, he turned around, running out of the station.

My head immediately turned upwards to where he was, as I feel my blood starting to rush to my face.

He... HE KNEW?!?

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | ten

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy, some good car sex w/ breast play, straddling, fingering, a lil spit play

note: to the anon who requested the one shot, i promise i have it done - i can’t post it juuuust yet tho lol

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"How was your date, Jungkookie?" Hoseok asks as he forks into his salad. Jungkook sits in front of Hoseok and Yoongi, while Namjoon and Jin sit off to either of his sides. Kook does a simple chuckle with his nose scrunched as he's digging into his fries.

"Good." He smirked.

"Oooh, Jungkookie has a girlfriend!" Hoseok laughed, causing both Namjoon and Jin to shoot looks at each other while shifting in their seats.

"No, but I hope to ask her out."

"Wait, like really ask her to be your girlfriend?" Yoongi chimed in, his gummy smile coming forth with a small high-pitched laugh. "How cute."

"Yeah, I want to. Not right at this moment, but I've already been planning on how to have this talk with her about being exclusive."

"Aw, our Kookie is growing up!"

"Shut up." Jungkook laughs. "I just really like her. She's beautiful, and smart and fun to be around."

"Are you seeing her today?"

"No, but I'm gonna hang out with her tomorrow. She has stuff to get done."

"Do you see her a lot?"

"A good amount, but I try not to suffocate her."

"Jin, you haven't said anything. What's up with you?" Jin looks up from his plate, eyes quickly roaming between all of them.

"Sorry, I just knew all of this already. It's nothing unexpected." He gives off a fake chuckle.

"Grace issues?" He shrugged.

"Sure, but this isn't about me." They nod and shift their attention back to Jungkook. Whew.

"Have you gotten her in bed?"

"Woah, Yoongi? What the fuck." Namjoon laughed.

"I'm just curious and we're always honest with each other right?" Joon shoots Jin a quick look before shaking his head at Yoongi.

"No." Kook chuckled. "I mean I don't care for it much. If she isn't ready to take that step with me then I won't force her."

"What a gentleman! Jin you taught him well." They laughed. Jin is reciprocating the energy with a small smile, as that's the best he can do right now. He didn't want this topic to come up only because he did already know how Jungkook felt about you. Yes, he felt bad, but also, he didn't want to let up on you. He wasn't going to, and Namjoon can easily tell he wasn't over you even though he told Jungkook to go for it. He hated having this silent competition. He knew his feelings for you were growing and he couldn't help but feel like a child over it.

I saw her first. I got her first. Me. Not you.

And so their conversation over an early dinner gets put to rest, Jin thanking God that no one pressed him more about Grace or why he truly wasn't saying much. They were all too caught up in Jungkook's feelings. All, except Namjoon. Jin gets to his classroom a little early to get himself together for class, gathering all his thoughts and feelings about you, Jungkook, Grace, etc., and pushing it to a far, far corner in his mind. At least, until class is over.

[Namjoon] 5:04pm: You couldn't be any more obvious.

[Jin] 5:05pm: What are you talking about now?

[Namjoon] 5:05pm: You're still seeing her. Or, let me rephrase - You're still trying to pursue her even after you told your brother to go for it.

[Jin] 5:06pm: It's complicated.

[Namjoon] 5:06pm: Seokjin, please. What did I tell you? Don't start this mess.

[Jin] 5:07pm: It'll be fine, okay? I appreciate the concern but stop worrying about me.

He sighs as he paces around the front of his room. The real reason as to why you weren't hanging out with Jungkook tonight was because of him. He needed to see you. Feel you. Touch you. Be close to you. There was also something he needed to bring up, hoping you'd agree to it.

Namjoon was right. The concern is valid. However, if things pull through the way Seokjin expects it to, then he knows what he has to do from there. He'll know how to approach this better. Hopefully.

Seeing you in class makes him feel at ease. He loves the little smiles you send his way when you both make eye contact. He just loves to look at you. Smiling and laughing with your friends. Your serious face when it's time to focus. He has it bad for you.

"Alright, class. Get those in to me on time by next week and I'll think about the movie." Jin laughs as the class has mixed reactions while packing up their things.

"But Mr. Kim it's a really good movie, don't you think we deserve a little break in class?" Taehyung whines as he picks up his bag.

"I always think you guys deserve a break, the movie though? Not sure if it's my cup of tea."

"Awww come on, just once." The class whined, making Jin laugh that adorable laugh he has. It was cute to see how adored Jin was by your classmates. He truly was a great teacher and made it a safe environment for everyone. Completely inclusive.

"I'll sleep on it. See you guys next week." He smiles and flashes a wink at a couple of people leaving the classroom saying their goodbyes. He stands at the front, his hands dug into his pockets as he looks at you and Ryujin coming down the steps - always being the last to leave.

"I'm counting on you, Mr. Kim." Ryujin says, flipping her hair.

"Counting on me for what?"

"The movie." She turns to look at you. "And other things." You shove her out the door before looking over at Jin, who hasn't stopped chuckling.

"You heard her." He nods.

"Pick you up in a few?" He asks, almost at a whisper. You return the nod and smile before walking out. You silently walk next to Ryujin, thinking about what tonight would be about. Not gonna lie, you were excited to be alone with him again, even if that meant being in his car, sitting in silence. The thought alone made you happy. The thought made you push through the day just to get to this point.

"Are you seeing him?"

"Yeah." Is all you respond to Ryujin with.

"Be careful, okay?"

"I know." Ryujin knew you weren't going to let up on Jin easily. She too, just like Namjoon, could tell that you had developed deep feelings for him, yet she just didn't know how you would approach it. Whatever it was though, she was going to have your back and be there for you. She just wished you had told the boys because handling you alone is work! Extra support would have been nice!

Getting home, you toss your things aside and start working on a few assignments until Jin is texting you that he's outside of your building. You feel a little nervous, as if it's a first date when it's really not. You step out of the elevator and into the lobby, just to see him ahead in the driver's seat. He has one hand resting along the wheel while he's scrolling through his phone in the other.

"Hey." You say as you hop into the passenger's seat. He puts his phone down and looks at you, his head tilted towards you and rested against the headrest.

"Hey pretty girl." He softly smiles as he leans over to kiss you on the lips. "Want some ice cream?" You laugh.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" He begins to drive off, taking you to a nearby ice cream joint.

"How was your day today?" You ask him as he's roaming the streets looking for parking.

"It was alright. Went to work for a bit and met up with the boys for an early dinner before class."

"How was that?" He keeps his eyes on the road.

"Mm, good. I love sitting around and hearing about my brother's feelings for you." You chuckle at his sarcasm.

"You're dramatic."

"Call it what you want." He says. "It's still not fair."

"You can do something about it, you choose not to though." You straight up tell him. He parks his car and looks over at you, a small smirk plastered on his face.

"So, do you want me to do something about it?"

"Jin, please. Don't turn this on me. You're the one whining." You get out of the car. It was true. He kept talking about Jungkook and how he couldn't stand it, but yet, his ass was over here doing absolutely nothing. You expected that much though, because what? Was he just going to up and leave his fiancé because of a little jealousy? You honestly didn't think it was that deep for Jin. Maybe a little bit of a competition, but nothing too serious. And that was honestly the most painful realization for you.

You probably weren't worth it.

"I'm not whining, love. Trust me." You subtly roll your eyes at the weak comeback, but you don't throw in a rebuttal. Were you worth it? It was hard to read Jin sometimes. There were days where you felt like this could be more, then there were days where you felt dumb as hell for even having the thought cross your mind.

Like right now, you feel like this could be more with the way he's letting you taste his ice cream, his hand below your chin to catch any melting ice cream from dripping onto your clothing. He takes his cone back to his lips at the same time he's raising the napkin to the corners of your lips. You're both sitting in his car, overlooking the bay and the San Francisco skyline view in his back seat. There's a walking trail in front of the small lot his car is currently parked in, but no one is around. It's just you, Seokjin and your ice cream cones.

"Mmmm, thank you." You say gobbling up the last bit of your cone.

"You're welcome." He chuckles. "How was your day?" You shrugged.

"Same old." You fold your leg onto the seat while the other draped over it just so you could turn and look at Jin. You lean your head against the seat, watching him eat the last bits of his cone. You admired him, and you couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely breathtaking he was. The goddamn nerve. He was literally sitting there in a hoodie and jeans and you thought he was the most endearing thing.

"Sounds fun." He clears his throat as he tosses the napkin into the cup holder in front.

"Why'd you bring me out here?"

"I just wanted to see you. Is that too much to ask for?" He looked at you. "I missed you."

"You see me in class."

"It's not the same and you know it." He cocks his head to the side again to look at you. "Come here." He grabs your hand to pull you closer to him and leans in for a kiss. You rest your hand on his neck as you continue to kiss him back, the sounds of slow kisses being exchanged filling the car. You climb onto his lap as the kiss deepens, your hands gripping Jin's face while his warm, soft hands explored inside your sweater. "You drove me crazy the other night." He whispers as you slightly pull away.

"Good." You respond, bringing your lips back onto his, slowly grinding your hips into his.

"Fuck." He hisses. He quickly aids in removing your leggings before unbuckling his jeans. You feel his hardened member underneath his boxer briefs against your clothed folds, causing you to slightly tilt your head back in pleasure. You feel his hands travel up to your bra, unhooking it and raising your sweater to suck on your nipples freely. You feel his tongue working in circular motions on your hardened bud, causing you to let out a breathy moan. His eyes wander up to your face, slightly shutting close when he sees how much you're enjoying this. He moves to the other breast, his free hand cupping the one he had just removed himself from, tongue exploring your nipple. His hand moves down to aggressively hook your panties to the side, giving him room to swipe his fingers up and down your wet folds.

"Oh shit." You slightly jerk at the sensation, his long fingers taking their sweet time spreading your wetness all around your pussy.

"You're so fucking wet." He keeps his eyes on you and watches your eyes roll to the back of your head when he inserts two digits, pumping them in and out. It's incredibly hot to him how fucking wet you are, the sounds of your pussy now echoing in the car.

"Jin, ohhhhshit." You mewl. "I'm gonna cum." He continues to pump his long fingers into you, the feeling of both pain and pleasure radiating throughout your body. He curves his digits upwards, tickling your core to send you hurdling over the edge. You buck in your position from how hard the orgasm hits you, Jin's wet fingers swiping your folds and gently caressing your sensitive clit. You squeal, the overstimulation becoming a little overbearing but it feels so fucking good. You unbury his hardened member from his boxer briefs, letting your spit dribble down onto his cock as you play with the pre-cum pooling at the head.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. Don't do that shit." He tilts his head back in pleasure. You silently chuckle as you jerk him, getting his dick a little wet before hopping on and filling yourself up with it.

"Ugh, why do you feel so fucking good?" You moan as you fix your position onto him, slowly riding him and easing your way into it. You slip his two fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, his fingers still dripping from your cum.

"I-I've been wanting to fuck you so badly." He lets out a breathy moan. "The things you do to me."

"Yeah?" You say, picking up the pace as his hands guide your hips and direct your pace.

"Just like that, baby." He groans. You love when he called you baby. It made you want to give him all of you.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders, gripping tightly as you grind your hips in a steady motion. You cock your head back in pleasure, Seokjin's hands gripping your breasts. You begin to roll your hips slowly, a louder moan erupting from both him and you.

"I'mgonnafuckingcum." Your words mesh together, unable to speak clearly at how good he feels deep inside of you.

"You're so tight. God, you feel so good, gonna cum with you." Sooner or later, a roll of the hip or two in, your coil is spiraling out of control, causing you to yell Jin's name as you scratch onto his clothed shoulders, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he fills you up at the same time you're milking his dick.

His head slowly raises from against your chest, his cheeks tinted and eyes slightly glazed. He smiles up at you, his lips locking with yours once more before you climb off to clean yourself.

"Y/N." He says, tucking himself back in and getting himself situated in the seat.

"Hm?" You hook your bra back together and fix your sweater.

"I'm going to LA this weekend for a quick business conference." You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure why he was telling you this. It's not like you asked him for a daily play by play.

"Okay, have fun?" You chuckle.

"Meet me there." He looks at you. "I have to be there by Friday morning, but I know you still have work and school."

"Meet you.. in LA?" He nods.

"I really want you to. I'll buy your plane ticket. But also, know that I'm not forcing you." He slightly sighs. "I just wanna be able to spend time with you and do other things together besides fucking each other's brains out."

"Um," is all you can respond with. Because hell to the fuck yes you wanted this. But you weren't sure why you were hesitating? Maybe it was a big jump and you were scared of taking it? The lies you'd have to tell people about where you would be going this weekend? It was all such a mess. Such a huge, huge mess. Part of you also felt like this would be such an easy way for Grace to find out.

"You don't have to tell me your answer now but— just know it'll make me really happy to have you there with me." He looks at you softly, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. Perhaps, you were worth it.

[fycarmensandiego]

A chat with author Melissa Wiley

In 1996, HarperCollins published six Carmen Sandiego chapter books, featuring VILE villains from the then-current "Deluxe"/"CD-ROM"/"Classic" generation of computer games and a new lineup of Acme agents, headed by a Black female Chief (Lynne Thigpen ha impact), and focusing on kid detectives Maya and Ben.

The series included two books each by two writing teams and one solo act, Melissa Peterson. I got in touch with Melissa, who now uses the pen name Melissa Wiley, and she graciously answered some questions about writing the Carmen books and beyond.

To get you caught up to my knowledge before the interview, here's Melissa's website, and here's her bio as printed in the two Carmen books (accompanied by the caricature above):

Melissa Peterson is the author of several books for young readers. Born in Alamogordo, New Mexico, she has lived in eight different states and visited Germany and France. She has never ridden a dolphin, but she did eat a great deal of sour cherry ice cream outside the cathedral in Cologne. [Note: These are both references to plot points in Hasta la Vista, Blarney.] Her research for Hasta la Vista, Blarney included many hours playing Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? An official ACME Master Detective, she lives in New York City with her husband and young daughter.

FYCS: Thanks so much for agreeing to this interview.

Melissa Wiley: What a fun blast from the past! The Carmen books were my first professional writing gig and I had so much fun working on them.

That's so exciting to hear! With that being the case, how did you get involved with the books?

I was an assistant editor at HarperCollins, working for the wonderful Stephanie Spinner. I started out as her editorial assistant at Random House right after grad school and moved to Harper with her a year later, shortly after [my husband] Scott and I got married. Stephanie knew that I wanted to be a writer, and she often sent in-house writing assignments my way (lots of cover copy). When I left Harper in 1995 to have a baby, Stephanie recommended me for several book assignments, including the two Carmen Sandiego novels. That project had been underway for several months—Harper was doing a tie-in with the game and TV show. There were six books in total; two were assigned to me and four went to other writing teams [Ellen Weiss and Mel Friedman, and Bonnie Bader and Tracey West]. I often joke that I got my first modem, my first baby, and my first book deal in the same month!

I loved working with my Carmen Sandiego editor, Kris Gilson. The two books were a blast to write and a great learning opportunity for me. Ellen Weiss remains a good friend of mine. She's a true gem of a person!

Have your experiences writing the Carmen books influenced your work since then?

With Carmen, I discovered how much I love writing humor. Before that (in grad school), my poems and stories were on the serious side. I had so much fun with the playful, sometimes goofy tone of the Carmen Sandiego books that I definitely shifted afterward to more of a focus on humor in my books. I still find writing from a place of playfulness to be my most satisfying kind of work.

Were you familiar with Carmen Sandiego before writing the books?

I loved the computer game! I'd seen several episodes of the show—it's all a bit blurry now and hard to say which I encountered first—and really enjoyed it, but I especially loved the game. Instant classic!

How much guidance did you receive from HarperCollins / Brøderbund? Were the plots your own, or were you given plot outlines?

We were given the basic descriptions for the two kid detectives, and I had a couple of meetings with the editors and the other writers to flesh out the characters a bit more—give them personalities. I don't think Mel was in the meetings, but Ellen was there, and Tracey and Bonnie.

Then I wrote outlines for my two books and the other writers outlined theirs. I was assigned one "Where in the World" mystery and one "Where in Time" mystery. I think I submitted several plot ideas for each—the big challenge was thinking up interesting objects for Carmen and her henchmen to steal. The Blarney Stone and cocoa beans were my favorite ideas and I was thrilled that they got picked!

How did you research the books?

Those were AOL days, and the web wasn't yet a place for intensive research, so I spent a lot of time in the library. For The Cocoa Commotion, I conducted phone interviews with staff members at the Hershey chocolate factory—lots of fun. But I never did get to visit the Blarney Stone!

What was your favorite part of working on the books?

Researching the history of chocolate! Naturally I had to do a lot of sampling in order to describe it properly. ;)

Your author bio in the books mentions that the scene in which Maya and Ben eat sour cherry ice cream in Cologne, Germany was inspired by an actual experience of yours. Did any other experiences of yours make it into the books? Have you had any other travel experiences that notable? (Note: I'm originally from Northern Michigan, so travel experiences involving tart cherries are a high bar to clear for me.)

Ohhh, that sour cherry ice cream! I hope I get to taste it again someday. Apart from eating a lot of chocolate, I can't remember any other personal experiences that informed the books. If I were to write one today, I'd make sure to set a scene in Barcelona. My husband and I spent a week there in 2008 and it was an incredible trip. The paella! The Gaudí buildings! Art on every corner! I'd love to go back someday.

The bio also features a caricature of you with your baby daughter...

That drawing was made by the brilliant comic book artist Rick Burchett, who was working with Scott on Batman comics at the time. Scott was an editor at DC Comics and Rick was one of his favorite artists to work with. When I needed a bio illustration for the Carmen Sandiego books, we commissioned Rick to draw it. I love that piece so much! The baby is my oldest, Kate, who was born right around the time I started working on the books. We still have the original art!

You've written over 20 children's books for a variety of ages, in a variety of genres. Do you have any favorites among them?

That's so hard to say—I'm fond of all of them and I dearly loved creating worlds and adventures for Charlotte and Martha in my Little House prequels—but The Prairie Thief and The Nerviest Girl in the World are extra-special to me. I grew up in Aurora, Colorado and had a summer job at a wildlife refuge on the prairie, a landscape that served as the setting for Prairie Thief. I loved getting to weave secrets into the prairie setting that means so much to me.

Your most recent book, The Nerviest Girl in the World, was published last August. Can you tell us a bit about why you wrote it?

I lived for 11 years in La Mesa, California, a small town just outside San Diego. While I was there, I learned that in the very early days of silent film, there had been a film studio in town. Eventually the studio moved to Santa Barbara, but it was exciting to discover that before Hollywood was the center of the American film industry, little old La Mesa was a moviemaking place. I began reading everything I could find about the studio, and when I learned that many of the cowboys in those early Westerns were real cowboys and ranchers, an idea for a book began to take shape—the story of an adventurous girl who stumbled into work as a daredevil film actress along with her cowboy brothers.

Of course, I'm legally compelled to ask the question that literally every interview currently includes: how has the pandemic changed your job?

LOL! Yes, it's the question right now, isn't it! Well, I've worked at home since the Carmen Sandiego days, and I homeschool my kids, so in the biggest ways our lives weren't hugely affected by the shutdown. But I used to do a lot of my writing in cafés, and I miss that like crazy! I had to think up all sorts of new strategies for staying focused at home this past year. I'm hoping to get back to the coffee shops this summer!

Something I found really interesting is that you have a Patreon, which you explain you started to help pay for medical bills. How has that experience affected your work as an author?

I've played with lots of kinds of content on Patreon and really enjoy having a space to share behind-the-scenes stories. It's a more intimate and personal space than social media, so I feel free to let my hair down and be really frank.

Thanks so much for these fantastic questions! I had so much fun reminiscing about the Carmen Sandiego adventure!

[getitinbusan]

Studio Sessions 3

It's Min Yoongi's birthday and you're ready to give him whatever he wants. When he makes a sarcastic wish while blowing out the candles he didn't think you'd take it seriously. But he's glad you did.

When word spreads about these special "Studio Sessions" everyone wants to collaborate. A chaptered 0T7 smut. 

These stand alone but you won't want to miss reading all of them!

The Collaborators

Part One : Taehyung

Part Two: Jimin

This one gets a bit rough 18+

The Namjoon & Hoseok Collaboration

You made your way through the maze of BigHit hallways, mission: Hobi and Joon.

The practice rooms were all on the lower levels, fully equipped with cameras, sound systems, mirrors and everything else you'd need to make your "video". Inhaling deeply you pushed the doors open, this was going to be a challenge. 

Hobi was working on choreo and Joon was on his phone, their attention shifting to you when you locked the door. "Are we in trouble?" Namjoon laughed. 

"I guess that depends on how you look at it." you answered. "I'm going to cut to the chase guys, we need to have sex." 

Namjoon laughed nervously, "I guess it's been a while but I wouldn't say I need to."

Chiming in Hobi added, "I just had sex last week...and you and Yoongi have sex all the time?" You walked over to the motion sensor camera and flicked it on, enabling the direct  share.

"I mean, we have to have sex together."

They stared at each other and both started laughing. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The stereo was next, syncing it to your Bluetooth you put on your makeout playlist and sent Yoongi his link to watch the recording. "No joke, it's Yoongi's birthday wish that I get the shit fucked out of me." 

Hobi grabbed a bottle of water, "I don't believe it, why us? This has to be a set up."

You walked over to him grabbing the bottle,"It's no fucking joke Hoseok, I just found out that my boyfriend and you fucked, now I want my turn." 

Namjoon's face went completely red, "is this your first time finding that information out too?" you questioned him.

"So this is a revenge thing? Because that was years ago, it's not like he cheated on you." Hope was getting defensive.

"Not revenge at all actually, I just don't think it's fair that he's had your dick in his ass and I haven't." Walking over to the lights you turned the dimmer switch. 

"I don't think I need to be involved in this." Namjoon moved to the door. 

"Listen, call Taehyung, just ask, ask him about how he got to fuck me while Yoongi watched." 

Their jaws dropped and neither moved to make that call. Holding up your phone you hit Tae's contact and put it on speaker. He answered "hello" groggily, "Hey, were you sleeping? Did I tire you out today?" you asked. 

He chuckled, "You did, I'm just resting up in case you want to go again."

You raised your eyebrow at Joon, "I do, that's why I'm calling. I need your help."

You could hear him shifting, "Fuck Y/N, Yoongi wasn't kidding. You really are insatiable. Where do you want me? Are you still in the studio?"

You giggled at his exuberance, "Sorry Tae, you already had your turn. I'm here with Hobi and Joon and it seems they're not as eager as you were."

"Namjoons a prude, and I'm pretty sure that while Hope swings both ways, he prefers guys." Tae's deep voice carried through the studio.

"Hey asshole you're on speaker." Hope countered back.

Tae chuckled, "You're liars if you're going to pretend you haven't thought about it. Yoongi Hyung is giving you a free pass to fuck his girlfriend and...ten out of ten, I highly recommend it."

_______________________________

Yoongi watched the livelink, his monitor displaying you circling the two men like prey. They were reluctantly giving in to your advances as you dissolved what little will power they had. He had to give them credit for at least questioning your motives unlike Jimin and Taehyung. 

_______________________________

Hanging up the call with Taehyung you waited for their answer. 

Hoseok moved towards you while looking into the camera to address Yoongi. "So you never told her that we used to be a thing? You didn't want to tell her why we always chose each other as roommates? Too embarrassed to tell her how good I used to fuck you?"

He was standing in front of you, "Show me Hoseok, show me how he liked to be fucked, please...I want it...want you."

Grabbing your hair and pulling your head back he licked from your collar bone to your chin. "Does he still like it rough?" You went weak in the knees, you'd never expected this from happy little Hobi. 

Namjoon was standing by the door contemplating whether or not he should flee the room. His phone vibrated.

Yoongi: It's okay, just fuck her. 

Mentally wrestling his morals Joon moved to the makeup chair.

Hobi lifted your dress and pulled your underwear down. "Oh look Joon, she's got a really pretty shaved pussy." 

He stuck his finger between your legs and quickly dipped it inside you. "Wet little slut." He said as he pulled out the slick covered digit and licked it clean. 

"She's tasty Yoongi, If she were mine I'd never take my face out of her cunt."  

He certainly knew what he was doing, a perpetual showman. You wondered how Yoongi was feeling watching the performance being put on just for him? 

Grabbing your hair again he pulled you over to Namjoon, "I think our leader needs some convincing." 

Joon didn't want to look you in the eye, he really was a prude. Removing every piece of clothing you stood naked presenting yourself before him, "You don't have to do this Y/N." His face finally turning to meet yours. 

"I want to," you let your fingers caress your breast, "Don't you want me Joon?" Leaning over you brushed his cheek and moved in to place a small delicate kiss on his lips. 

Dropping your hand between his thighs you could feel his swelling bulge. "Haven't you wondered what it would feel like to be inside me…" you undid his zipper, "I know you've heard Yoongi and I through the hotel wall. Did you ever get off listening to us fuck?" 

He groaned, his dick was full and ready, all sensibility shifting from his brain to his crotch. He grabbed your head with his large hand and pulled you onto his lips kissing you. "You have no idea how many times I've had to touch myself listening to you cum." 

Hoseok stood pants down, already stroking himself. "Let's get these off," you motioned to their clothes. 

Standing up you finally got a look at both their bodies. You always knew Joon was thick, his body was muscular but you never expected him to have a fat cock. The anticipation of him stretching you out made you somehow impossibly hornier. 

Hobi was very much like his frame, long and thin, the kind of cock that could hit deep. He, just like you, was completely clean shaven. 

Dropping to your knees you grabbed them, one in each hand. Your mouth moving back and forth trying to give them equal attention. Every now and  again you'd make sure to stare into the camera, reminding Yoongi that it was him on your mind. Saliva dripping off their cocks as they praised you, you wondered, was he watching? 

Helping you up from your knees both men stationed themselves on either side of your body. A sheer wave of ecstasy ran through you as they each attached themselves to a nipple.

"Oh my god, fuck, someone needs to fucking get their fingers inside me... I'm going to cum so hard."

As good as having your tits sucked felt, having them both sucked at the same time was mind blowing.

Hope's long fingers made their way inside you pumping and rubbing your g spot mercilessly until you squirted all over the studio floor. 

"Are you ready to get that ass fucked now baby?" Hoseok looked at you with greed in his eyes. 

Taking Joon by the hand and leading him to the bench you pumped his cock, "only if I can take you both at the same time."

Both men moaned audibly at the idea. "Lay down on your back," you instructed Joon. Straddling him you sank down slowly onto his red weeping dick.

As predicted, he filled you perfectly, pussy lips stretched around him tightly. Hobi stood back cupping his balls waiting his turn.

"Fuck Joon your cock is phenomenal." Your cunt was so needy he slid in and out of you with ease, covered in your thick cream. 

"Are you ready Hope?" He grinned like the Cheshire cat moving behind you. 

Sticking his fingers in your mouth he stroked them over your tongue. Pulling them back out, strands of  saliva landed on your back before he eagerly stuck his pointer straight into your ass.

"Nice and relaxed, I bet Yoongi fucks your little hole all the time doesn't he?" 

When you didn't respond he sharply smacked you leaving a bright red welt across your ass cheek.

"Fucking answer me." He was unexpectedly rough, but it was okay. You wouldn't let him break you.

The Second finger went in deep and fast with no warning as you gasped for breath. Joon pulled your face down, "relax and focus on me."

The contrast between Joon's gentle ways and Hobi's roughness created a perfect balance of pleasure and pain. Leaning into him you kissed his lips as Hobi began pushing his cock into you.

"Good girl," he purred as he picked up speed. "Who's better at fucking your ass...hmmm me or Yoongi?"

You didn't answer and his hand struck you again. "I asked you a fucking question baby girl?"

Tears rolled down your cheek landing on Joons face. "You need to answer me."

Trying to distract yourself, you pressed your lips to Joons and ground yourself into his pubic mound stimulating your clit. Pulling your hair and yanking you away from Joon he asked again.

"Yoongi! 

_______________________________

Was it going too far? He couldn't tell. You hadn't used the safe word but he had never been this rough with you. When you called his name he jumped from his chair ready to run to the practice room. Hand about to turn the handle your words made him go back to watching. 

_______________________________

"Fucking Yoongi! Your cock is nothing compared to his." 

Another hard slap landed across your flesh but this time you laughed. "Is that all you have?"

Fucking yourself harder against him you refused to let him have the upper hand. "No wonder he never told me about you if this is all you've got." 

Aggression and anger filling the air, you were all erotically charged. Everyone thrusting harder and faster you came, squeezing Namjoon inside you. "Can I cum in you?" He panted. No sooner than the yes left your lips his cum was shooting inside you. Hoseok was hanging onto your hips like a vice as he found his end pulling out and cumming on your back. 

_______________________________

Yoongi left his studio in a rush to collect you. He knew your physical tiredness would be compounded by the emotionally draining exhaustion from this round. He just wanted to take care of you. 

_______________________________

Joon hugged you while Hoseok apologized for taking things too far. Reassuring him everything was okay between you, you kissed his cheek.

Turning the lock and twisting the handle Yoongi stood waiting. He pulled you into his embrace and kissed your forehead, "Are you okay, do you want to stop?" 

You kissed the back of his hand, "Do you really think I'm going to give up when I'm one away from Jeon Jungkook?"

_______________________________

Jin

Jungkook

Yoongi

@phoenicia1533

[lovelywingsart]

Forgotten Memory

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

So I did a few sketches of Emelia meeting the other lords(and Dimitrescu daughters) a while ago, and I threw in a little something for the Moreau one- well, here's what's basically the small follow-up that I teased for that one.

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

---------

*Warning?: Lost/regained memory, mentions of wanted parenthood, angst kinda?

Summary: A small, interesting discovery is made during a first visit to Lord Moreaus domain, leading to a heartbreaking revelation.

Emelia was silent. They had returned from her first visit with Moreau, and she had to admit, the 'Fish Man' was kind and rather fun to be around despite Heisenbergs dislike of him. The metal man in question sat at a separate table behind her, tinkering with what she could assume was an experimental piece for the Soldats with his hair in it's normal 'bun' for physical work. But her focus wasn't on him. No, it was on the tape Moreau had excitedly let her borrow. It lay on the corner of the table she had been sitting at, and though she had previously been sketching plans, she was unable to concentrate. Simply finding it at the watermill sent a chill of recognition down her spine, and she couldn't get that familiarity out of her head. It was as if it triggered... something. But she didn't know what, exactly. The cover of the movie alone was scarily familiar, but... she didn't know.

And so, here she sat in silence, staring at the cover of the yellowed and somewhat grimy case, picking at her brain for any possible lead. Not even the occasional German swearing behind her shook her from the concentrated phase she was in as Heisenberg caused a tiny shock among the wires he was currently fiddling with. She had been staring at it since she picked it up... She barely looked away from it on the way back to the factory, nearly tripping over multiple things while Heisenberg practically led her around. But she couldn't quite put her finger on why it was so familiar.

She was suddenly jerked out of her trance as she heard a rather loud 'FUCK', and she turned to see Heisenberg looking at his hand.

"Are you alright...?" She asked quietly. He shook his head, sticking a bleeding finger in his mouth.

"Eh, I'm fine... damn thing shifted on me." He muttered. She was silent for a moment, seemingly spacing out until she spoke again.

"Would you like a bandage...?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." He shrugged, inspecting the digit once more before looking at the thing on his desk. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had the threat of losing a body part." His tone was almost thoughtful as he shifted his left leg. He then turned to face her. "What the hell is with YOU, anyway? You haven't stopped staring at that thing since we left the ugly freak. Usually you'd yell at me to wear gloves."

"Because you should..." Emelia rolled her eye slightly, "And he's a kind man, Karl. Don't be mean." she huffed, shaking her head as he muttered something under his breath. "No, I... I'm fine. Just thinking, is all."

"Ah. Well, don't hurt yourself." He smirked, turning back to his work as she glared at him.

"Twit..." she muttered, her eyes drifting back to the tape. She swore there was something about it...

She finally reached for it, holding it somewhat close to her face. She studied every detail. Every curve of the title letters. Every bit of the scenery. It wasn't until she turned it around to read the back that she paused, her brain picking out a few words to focus on. She simply closed her eye for a moment, only for something... a scene... to flash in her mind;

A woman stood in bright, almost entirely white scenery, holding a small child on her hip. Her other hand held that of an older child, and the childs other hand was held by a man. They seemed... happy. But she couldn't tell... The faces were simple blurs. She could only tell by the distant sound of laughter as the man and woman embraced, the two children huddling to them with giggles. The woman, she noticed, wore her hair longer with a ponytail to the side. No other features were clear. There was a sadness as the scene began to fade away, even as she desperately tried to clear the faces of the individuals.

Emelia jerked into reality once more with a gasp, making the man behind her jump with a startled swear.

"Fucking-" He started, shaking his hand again before looking at her with an irritated grunt. "What now???"

She stared at the tape in silence for a few seconds more before setting it down carefully and pushing herself to stand.

"N-Nothing, I..." she started, her voice wavering just slightly. Heisenbergs irritation all but disappeared as he watched her, switching to confusion.

"Emelia? What's wrong?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"I-I'm fine, I..." she tried, finally just running her hand through her hair and walking towards the door off to the side. "I'm just... tired. I'm going to sleep."

"... Oh." He replied, his confusion still evident. "Make sure you wake up, then."

She couldn't help but crack a small smile. It was always his way of saying 'sleep well'.

"I'll try."

~

Oddly enough, the bed wasn't too comfortable.

Emelia lay on her back, her arms behind her head while staring up at the dark ceiling. She had changed into her casual 'night' attire, thinking she could think better with the light off... But it only clouded her mind. The scene she saw kept playing in her mind. Who were these people? Why did she see them?? She let out a frustrated groan, moving her hands to rub her face. It had to have been a memory, right...? Was she one of the children? Was she remembering her family before this? Of course she had remembered small things as a child, merely second-long snippets of a foggy past that still wasn't entirely clear. COULD she have been one of the children?? While the thought should have calmed her, it only made her question more. If it WAS her original family, why couldn't she see the faces? She should have at least been able to remember her own... Not to mention the scenery itself was entirely different than she ever remembered... None of her memories were ever pure light. Something wasn't sitting right... But she thought back to the children she saw. They were happy... Laughing. They were all laughing a pleasant laugh, even the two adults, who she assumed were the parents. It was the joy of the scene that managed to calm her, and she couldn't help but chuckle from the silliness of it all.

She froze.

Wait.

She gave a confused hum, almost trying to repeat the chuckle. She then thought back to the memory, watching and rewatching the scene in her head, her muscles suddenly tense. Her attention was soon drawn to the woman. The woman's laugh seemed familiar as her face slowly became visible. Almost TOO familiar. It was almost like... Wait, that... Was...

No.

She bolted into an upright position once she saw the womans face clearly, her eye wide as the scene suddenly became uncomfortably clear.

The adult woman was HER.

But why?? HOW???

She threw the covers off her legs and pushed herself away from the bed, nearly ripping the door open with a burst of strength. She nearly ran down the steps, her breathing halted. How could that have been her? How could those memories be hers? She was older in that scene than she remembered to previously have been before all of this, and there was very clearly no sign of childbearing on her own body that she saw or knew of. Hell, she never thought she had BEEN with anyone like 'that' until recently, how could-

She startled Heisenberg once more as she pushed open the door to the workshop, making him jump as she briskly made her way back to the desk she had been sitting at. He spoke to her, but she couldn't hear him as she grabbed the tape and stared at it. Her... A family... Smiling, happy...

Another vision played in her mind, this one she had been familiar with. She was a child, tugging the apron of what she always assumed was her mother. 'Can we? Please?' Her small voice asked. She was a quiet child, that much she assumed from the memories she had unlocked before. She was already greeted with a kind smile as her faceless mother nodded. This memory she had seen, and it was always the same; she led the mother over, sitting on a fluffy couch in front of a large TV. A movie always played, but she couldn't see it... Until now. It was the same movie she currently physically held. But something changed... It was as if a new reel of film was cleaned in her mind, and she saw herself look up at the mother she cuddled to at the point where the memory would have cut off. 'I want a family like that!' She heard herself say excitedly. 'Just like that?' The mother asked, her voice warped somewhat. Emelia watched her child self nod. 'Yeah, a big one, just like that.'

It was then that the previous image of her older self played, vaguely hearing her child-self speak of her own family hopes over the laughter. And that's when it hit her with a wave of brokenhearted nausea. THAT'S why it was so bright... So happy... The vision wasn't a 'memory' at all. No...

It was a DREAM.

A dream...

No.

It was a goal.

A life goal her child-self had.

A goal stripped mostly once she joined the corporation before being taken Miranda years later. A goal that Miranda herself had more or less stripped ENTIRELY with no hope of settling down as soon as that goddamn parasite was embedded into her chest.

An important goal she had entirely forgotten about until now.

The realization hit her like a head-on impact from Sturm, and she dropped the tape. Her eye was wide, staring at seemingly nothing as her breaths came in quiet wheezes. She didn't even know she was crying until she felt a hand on her shoulder, jumping out of her thoughts with a gasp and whirling to meet the concerned face of Heisenberg. He seemed to jump back as well, startled to see face that pure sadness and anger. She could almost hear the memories of singing as she stared at him, her body trembling.

"Emmy??" He asked, taking his hand from her shoulder as if he himself had caused the tears that now streamed down her cheek. She was silent for a moment before her lip trembled.

"I... I remember..." she whimpered, taking deep breaths. Heisenberg paused before suddenly pressing on her shoulders.

"Sit." He said quickly, turning away to grab his own chair as she sat carefully. He brought the chair up in front of hers, sitting directly across from her. "What do you remember?" He asked, his voice genuine as he watched her. She forced herself to speak.

"Do... D-Do you remember... Uhm..." she paused with a shaky breath in attempts not to start sobbing immediately. She HAD to calm herself... "Do you remember when I... When I told you about that memory... The one when I was a child and the movie...?"

"I do... That was months ago." He replied, tilting his head. "What about it?"

"Th-There's... There's more..." she nodded to the tape on the table. "It... It was that... and... a-and..."

She finally broke down, covering her mouth as she let out a wavering sob. She nearly curled in on herself, only stopped by Heisenbergs hands on her shoulders. He then gently grabbed her face, leaning forward and making her look at him.

"Hey... Hey, look at me." He spoke. His jaw tightened as her eye met his, and he saw a painful recognition. "What the hell did that tape do?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally opening her mouth.

"... I... I wanted a family, Karl..." she whimpered.

He froze.

'Family'.

It was a word he grew to despise over the years. He hated it. He hated it with a burning, goddamn passion. The meaning of it was lost to time and trauma, and yet it sounded... innocent coming from her. It wasn't malicious like Miranda, or insulting like Alcina. It didn't even sound like a pathetic joke as it would have with Donna or Moreau. There was true pain behind the word as she spoke it, and he frowned as he watched her break down in front of him despite clearly attempting to hold it together. She always told him her memories... Hell, he encouraged her too. He knew what it was like, and he hated the thought of the same happening to her. But this time, he didn't know what to do. 'Family' was a sore subject around the factory. She let out a shaky sigh.

"I-I'm sorry, I..."

"No, no, just... Don't..." he started, only to sigh, himself. "Damn it-... Come here."

Emelia froze as Heisenberg pulled her into an awkward hug, though it wasn't enough to stop the tears. Instead, she reached up to hold his arms while her head threatened to fall onto his shoulder. He was silent for a moment, feeling as she almost curled to him, only stopped by the chairs. He couldn't quite think of anything to say. Nothing to help. Not even anything witty.

"... Keep talking." He said finally, feeling her breath halt.

"... What...?"

"I said, keep talking. Tell me about it... I guess." He managed. He felt her head shift while she managed to breath enough to sniffle.

"Is that a joke..." she asked quietly. He rolled his eyes.

"You really think I'd joke about that?"

"... Do you really want me to answer that..."

"Just keep talking, Emelia." He groaned. She was quiet before letting out a shaky breath and speaking.

"I-I... I remember..." she started, clearing her throat slightly and sniffling once more, "I remember begging her to watch it... I guess she never argued... Not that I could tell."

"Hm." He hummed quietly, setting his chin on top of her head. "How many times did you watch it, then?"

"I... I'm not sure... A lot, I suppose...?" Her voice was quiet as she sighed. "All I can hear is singing, I don't know..."

He raised a brow.

"Singing??"

"Shush..." she mumbled, earning a chuckle.

"So what does that have to do with wanting..." he paused. Hell, SAYING the word felt like poison to him... But she knew. She took a shaky breath before pushing away from him, wiping furiously at her eye as she sat back in her chair. She looked over at the tape for a moment with a frown.

"I told her I wanted a family..." she managed, reaching to pick up the tape and turning it over. "'A big one just like them', I told her... I guess I loved it enough to dream of it. Children, a husband... I suppose I could have had... SOMETHING like that with the corporation, but... NOW..." Her voice then gained a hint of bitterness as she leaned forward to put her head in her hand while holding the tape with the other. "It's impossible thanks to HER... And yet, I feel as if I still want it, now that I know..." The sadness quickly turned into a hint of anger as she lightly tossed the tape back on to the table. She was unable to stop the new flow of tears that started, glancing at her right arm. "Bloody hell... How damn stupid am I... A goddamn 'family' from THIS bloody mess..."

Heisenberg was quiet for once, watching as she wiped at her face furiously once more. What the hell was he even SUPPOSED to say to that?? That she was right?? No, he wasn't actively trying to upset her... Maybe he would joke normally, but even he knew that now wasn't the time. Oh, hell...

"Don't be hasty, Emmy. You've, ah... you've got a lot of life to live." He spoke awkwardly, clearing his throat slightly. "Or... um... something."

He jerked back as Emelia gave a disbelieving snort before choking back a sob as she looked to the movie again.

"'Or something'... Not like anyone would be willing to contribute while I'm like this..." she muttered, not seeing the look he gave with her voice still bitter as she frowned with a trembling lip. "That bitch stole every hope I had of being normal... I can barely remember everything still, and yet this is what I get when I do..." her voice lowered, but cracked with a mixture of pain and anger. It was a mix Heisenberg himself knew all too well. "I wanted a family and she tore that away for her own..."

"You could still-" he started, only to stop and snap his mouth shut as she looked up at him. What the fuck was he just about to say?

"I could still WHAT, Karl...??" Her voice was nearly pleading as she looked up at him. "Even if I tried, she'd still... She'd..."

She had to breathe. It felt as if her chest was collapsing in on itself as she doubled over with a sudden gasping sob. She was robbed... The life she once dreamed about wasn't at all possible. Even if she tried. Even if she somehow found a way, she knew it would be ripped from her again by the woman in selfish attempts to fix her own 'family'. And yet, she felt the distant longing she remembered feeling as a child... It wasn't until she felt arms around her once more that she started to look up, only to be nearly yanked off the chair as she was hugged with a sudden force and nearly brought into the man's lap.

"Don't say that." He growled quietly, making her freeze. "You still have a goddamn chance. Fuck Miranda and fuck her plans, she's not gonna do anything if you do." He paused for a moment. "She CAN'T do anything if you do, because I won't fucking let her."

Emelia froze in his arms, decently stunned. She said nothing, though couldn't help but curl into his shoulder as she fought off more tears. She knew he did it to make her feel better... And that's what seemed to hurt the most. He wasn't the most affectionate or reassuring person, especially with this. Sure, he had his odd ways of giving comfort, but it was never easy for either of them. But she managed to take a few breaths, returning the hug somewhat as he set his chin on her head. There was silence for a few moments before the reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the tape, looking at the cover with a light fondness despite her anger.

"... I think I'll visit Moreau tomorrow..." she said quietly, almost feeling his look of disgust.

"Why??"

"Unless you would like to watch it with me." She said simply, glancing up at him. He seemed to calm slightly, but still shook his head.

"You sure watching that is the best idea?" He asked, releasing his hold on her slowly. It was as if he didn't want to let go. She shrugged, wiping at her face.

"Potentially not, but... I don't know..." she sighed, pushing herself back on her own chair. She almost smiled as Heisenberg kept a gentle hold on her arms. "Maybe... maybe it would help... He said it was one of his favorites as well, I think it would be nice to have... willing company."

"I wouldn't be 'willing'?"

"Would you REALLY be, Karl?"

He raised a brow for a moment before giving a huff, but he didn't speak. She couldn't help but give a laughing snort before sniffling. It was then that another thought entered her mind, and she pondered over if for a few seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"I think I'm going to get dressed." She said finally, slowly standing from the chair. She was met with a confused stare.

"I thought you said you were tired?" Heisenberg asked, watching as she walked to the door with the tape clutched in her hands. She paused to look back at him for a moment.

"Oh, I am. But now I'm more angry than I am tired." She said simply. "Have you got any disposable Soldats?"

She felt a little better as she watched a broad, toothy grin form on his face.

"I can figure something out." He said, suddenly standing and moving over to his desk to grab something. "Go ahead, I'll meet you down there."

Emelia only nodded, going through the door quickly. She knew it might not help entirely, but she felt the deep need to destroy despite not showing it on the surface. Whatever he was able to put together, she planned on imagining Miranda's face on every single creature she tore apart while mentally preparing herself for the trip the next day. WOULD watching the movie help? Would it assist with more memories? Or was it the worst idea she had ever had? She didn't know, and she couldn't keep her eye off the case as she retrieved her own clothing. She felt the pulses of her mutation even before she slipped on her own shirt, eventually letting the tendrils of muscle expand and grow along her skin. The bone spurs were the last to form, allowing her to flex and adjust her arm slightly. There was a moment of silence as the muscle hardened, feeling her heart beat against her chest. She took one last look at the tape before letting out a growling huff, letting the anger of the forgotten memories flow through her as she finally walked out the door and ran down to the depths of the factory walls.