#why do we have to spend the entire three hours in lab when we have maybe 10 minutes of actual work to do i hate you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

narvaldetierra · 1 year

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Sleep is overrated

Summary: Tasha is concerned that Patterson hasn't slept for the past three days. AKA Three nights Patterson didn't sleep and the one she did.

Tags: Established Relationship. Self Sleep Deprivation. Mention of Visual Hallucination. Do not try this at home. Words: 3486 A/N: I came up with this idea a long time ago, after watching episode 3x20 when Reade sends everybody home except for Patterson. And we already saw that Kurt had to tell her to go back to her apartment to rest, so here I am. But this story is settled somewhere in season 3, before the dragonfly tattoo and after they caught Hirst. Acknowledgments: I want to take this space to thank @nachosncheeze for being my beta reader in this work and helping me to improve the translation. Without you, this wouldn't be as beautiful as it is. So thank you 💖

Like every software engineer, Patterson knew two basic truths: coffee is needed to exist and sleep is overrated. She could spend entire nights awake and working, she had done it before and those had turned out to be very productive nights. Like those nights working on her science projects in middle school, or like when it was exam season at college. She had done it for this job before too, especially since Jane had appeared in that bag in the middle of Times Square.

It wasn't something that bothered her. In fact, she really enjoyed working at night, when the lab was almost empty and silence reigned. It was much easier to concentrate that way, with no one rushing her, yelling to type faster on a code she was making up on the spot, in an unprecedented, tense situation. Patterson loved her team, they were her family and she would do anything for them, but when they yelled over her shoulder telling her how to do her work, she wished they would leave.

Thus she wanted to use the silence of the night for better concentration. She could feel the pressure coming from Reade to find Roman's location and couldn't blame him, several weeks had passed since the team had gotten back together and so far they had only done what Roman wanted them to do: racing after every tattoo, like donkeys chasing a carrot. That needed to stop. She needed to find something that would at least help them understand Roman's full plan.

As time went by, she took one and two, and three coffees. She walked around the lab to make sure to keep her circulatory system active and thus ensure that her brain was well-oxygenated and kept her alert. "Come on! You can do it!" she said to herself gesticulating with her hands in the air, "You were part of the three blind mice, you are not hacking illegally again, but you can find something that lead to Roman! You've done this too long to give up." She let out a sigh, grateful that no one had been present to hear her talking to herself, then went back to the search as if nothing had happened.

When it was 5 am she decided to take a shower before the day shift agents arrived, she was sure it would clear her head. And she wasn't wrong at all. Before getting out of the shower, she turned off the hot water so that only cold, icy water would come out to wake her. It was a trick she had learned in college: the ice water in contact with the skin works as a shock to the body, which, under such stress, increases the heart rate, thus increasing blood circulation and releasing adrenaline. In that precise instant, her mind went blank and that's when she realized how to decode a specific tattoo.

After a new day of work, the team had solved another tattoo. They should have been pleased to have done it in record time, but they weren't closer to catching Roman or Crawford. Patterson was beginning to feel frustrated, like when she found a puzzle that couldn't solve and spent days obsessing over a solution.

That's why she decided to spend another night in the lab, working in that beautiful silence, which had proved to be quite useful. She was sure it could be again, after a very much-needed coffee. A few hours ago she still had that false extra energy caused by the excess dopamine. Now that feeling had faded away and she felt so cold.

She wasn't planning to stay the whole night, just enough to get a lead. However, when she walked into the lab with her steaming mug, her smile faded away when she saw that Rich was also there.

"Oh! Patty Cakes! Welcome to the night shift. What brings you here?" he asked in his characteristic playful mood.

"What are you doing here Rich?"

"Ah, ah, ah… I asked first."

Patterson rolled her eyes and put the mug down on a table near the terminal she decided to work on. "I wanted to advance some work."

"Oh? Yeah… me too. That's what I was doing here… by no means did I forget to do that absurdly boring paperwork they ask for after every mission. I keep those things up to date. Apparently, it's a big deal. Did you know that?"

"Rich, how long has it been since you submitted your paperwork?"

"Maybe two or three–"

"Days?"

"Weeks."

"Rich!"

"I know, I know. That's why I'm here this late. Jeez! You don't have to give me a lecture about it."

"I– I wasn't– ugh," she didn't care enough to say anything else about it.

For the next five minutes, they remained silent, each one concentrating on their stuff. Until Rich's ADHD appeared.

"Do you mind if I play music?" he asked and, without really waiting for an answer, he pressed play. He didn't really care, he needed the background noise, plus it would make the tedious task of paperwork more entertaining.

"No, I guess–" she covered a yawn that interrupted her, "I guess it's ok," she looked away from the screen for just a second and went back to what she was doing.

The playlist was something without any kind of coherence, the most diverse songs were playing, going from a soft melody to an energetic song that sounded too loud for a workspace. There were just the two of them in the lab, and neither of them should have been in there that late. She was already tired, so Patterson tried not to pay attention and kept working.

"I'm hungry. Have you had dinner yet?" Rich asked after a couple of minutes.

"Not yet," Patterson replied without even looking up, focused on what she was doing.

"Shall we order pizza?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Oh, wait, I already ate pizza this week," he thought about it for a minute, then he just shrugged "I don't care, I like pizza. Do you want me to order?"

"Rich, I’m trying to concentrate here."

“Sorry, I won’t interrupt you anymore. Just– tell me what kind of pizza you like.” Patterson stared at him in silence, wanting him quiet for once. “Or don’t. Doesn’t matter. I’ll order you a cheese one, everyone likes cheese, or they should.”

Music kept playing, and they went back to work. For a few more minutes Patterson was able to work quietly, although she had a feeling that this was going to be a long, long night with Rich. When her coffee was empty, she looked for a blanket scarf to wear. She had just returned to her terminal when Rich arrived with a few boxes of pizza.

"Dinner is here!"

That was when Patterson understood that she had two options: go back to her apartment or stay the whole night there, dealing with Rich. As tempting as the idea of going to bed was, she couldn't give up so soon. So she stayed, grateful to have more than one change of clothes in her locker.

That day wasn't as exciting as the previous one, but they were able to get some encrypted files that could be of interest in Crawford's case. Thus, the team had a status meeting at the end of the day.

"Patterson, how long do you think it will take you to decode those files?" Reade asked.

"I'm not sure, looks like complex encryption. Maybe a few hours… or maybe all night."

"Alright, get on with it. The rest of you, go home to rest." Then Reade left the lab. He still had paperwork to finish before going home.

Jane and Kurt left as well, talking about dinner. After a long day, they all were tired and, unaware of Patterson's situation, they just wished her a quiet night, so she could solve it quickly enough. One by one, the lab technicians left too, until there was just Patterson and Tasha, who refused to leave her alone.

"It's ok, you don't have to stay, you can go home," Patterson said as she kept typing.

"Perhaps I can't exactly be helpful, but I can keep you company. Besides, you still need to eat and it has been several days since we had dinner together."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's been a long week, with so much work–"

"You don't need to apologize, just pick something to order for dinner."

"Right now, I could use a coffee," Patterson said and covered a yawn with her right hand. She was exhausted and had no idea where she was getting enough energy to keep working.

"Dinner first, coffee later. And don't you dare to say Go-Gurt."

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed, but when she reached out to take the menu Tasha was offering, her hand-eye coordination failed. She thought she was grabbing the menu, but her hand closed right next to it, in the air. Patterson ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip nervously and hurriedly grabbed the menu, pretending that nothing had happened, but it wasn't enough to fool Tasha.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" she turned and took a few casual steps as she looked at the menu.

"Wait– Patterson how long have you not slept?"

"So, do you prefer Chinese or Thai?" She attempted to change the conversation and picked up her phone, pretending to look for more options to eat.

"Patterson! You promised you wouldn't do that anymore!"

"I'm ok, it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, you all need me here at the lab."

"But we need you healthy, rested, lucid."

"I know, I know. It's just– one thing led to another." Those were very poor excuses, she wasn't even trying, was too tired for that. "Look, I'll finish this thing Reade asked me to do, and then I'll go to sleep, ok?"

"You should go to sleep right now."

"Tash, I mean it, I don't want to argue about it now. We can eat dinner together or we can talk about my sleep schedules, but we can't do both, I need to finish this."

Tasha remained silent for a moment, watching her, unable to believe what she was hearing. "I prefer Indian." She decided that it wasn't the moment to have that conversation, but it wouldn't be something she'd let go of that easily.

"Thanks," was all Patterson had to say. Then she ordered the food and went back to her computer to continue typing.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Words were only exchanged when Patterson reached an impasse and had to find a new approach to get better results, and only turned away from the screen when Tasha returned with their food.

They ate the first few bites quietly until Tasha said "This isn't urgent enough to go without sleep for–" she realized she didn't know - "I don't even want to know how long."

"What if it is?" she hurried to swallow the food to answer, "What if by not decoding this in time, we miss the opportunity to prevent something bad from happening?"

"Is that what kept you awake?"

"No! Yes. Maybe– I don't know! I just know that what we do here is important, there is no space for mistakes."

"That's why you should sleep. You have a giant team of people trained to get the job done, to help you, and complete the tasks while you rest. You need to trust in them."

"I do!"

"Then learn to delegate." Tasha let out a sigh and set the food aside. She approached Patterson and took her hands in hers. "Honey, I'm not looking for a fight, I just want you to take better care of yourself, and have regular periods of sleep so that you can continue doing what you love to do."

"I know…" she admitted.

"I won't insist anymore this time, let's have dinner in peace, finish with the task assigned to you and I'll take you home to rest. But promise, truly and sincerely, that you will not do it again."

"I promise." A soft smile appeared on Patterson's lips and she moved closer to kiss her.

"Now… could you tell me how many nights you spent here? I promise I won't get mad."

"Hmm…" she hesitated for a moment, and in a barely audible voice said, "This is the third one."

Tasha had to make a great effort to restrain herself from saying anything about it, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, "Can I try some of your food?" she asked with a smile. Then she preferred to change the conversation to keep her promise.

The rest of the night Tasha focused on helping Patterson in any way she could. She wasn't an expert in coding and she knew little about encryption, but she had some basic knowledge, so she could at least take care of minor tasks. As the hours went by Tasha noticed that the blonde's yawns became more frequent, she even saw her nodding off on one or two occasions. The brunette had to hold back to keep her promise and let Patterson finish the job before taking her home to rest.

By the time the team arrived at the lab, Patterson and Tasha were a continuous yawning machine, although they managed to disguise them quite successfully. In their hands was the third cup of coffee of the day, which no longer seemed to have enough effect on Patterson. The blond felt just as tired but with rapid heartbeats due to the caffeine.

Patterson explained, without much interest, how they were able to decode the files. Then she gave them some coordinates from three places related to the new tattoos on Jane's body.

The team departed with a clear mission, leaving Patterson and Rich. They would assist the team remotely, as they always did, providing additional information about the sites they had been sent.

Stepping out into the hallway, Tasha let Jane and Weller go ahead and took Reade aside so they could talk alone.

“You need to send Patterson home,” she said seriously, steering right into his eyes.

“What? The day is just beginning, we need her here.”

“No. Reade. You NEED to send Patterson home.” She emphasized each word individually to make it clear how serious she was about it. “I know how much we need her, as much as I know you haven't slept well these past days. But Patterson has been awake for four days now.”

“That's not true, she–”

“She won't say anything because she is a workaholic and is determined to find something that gives us the advantage we need. You won't notice it on her face either because she does magic with her makeup. Still, you have to do something about it.” Both were silent for a moment. Tasha took a deep breath and got closer to him. Softening her voice, she added, “Look, I know you hate being compared with Weller but, when he was in charge, he learned the hard way that he had to watch over Patterson's rest periods. Because when she gets obsessed with something, she forgets about anything else. Even eating and sleep become irrelevant for her.”

Reade stared at her, pondering her words. He knew Patterson used to get obsessed over work, but he hadn't really thought it was that big of a deal. He look at Patterson through the window in the lab door, she was writing some numbers on a glass board. Then he felt bad for ordering her to stay the night to work, though he had no regrets if that had brought them any closer to Roman.

“Listen, you don't have to send her home right now. But unless you want her to collapse in the middle of the lab, you'll do it as soon as her speech becomes erratic or her hands have a tremor.”

“Ok, I'll keep an eye over her,” he finally agreed. Noticing that Tasha was not pleased he added, “I'll be sure to send her home to rest. And then she'll have two days off.”

With a soft nod and a smile, Tasha thanked her friend for taking her words. He was the boss and call the shots, but she would take care of Patterson, especially when the blond didn't do it herself. Then she left to find Weller and Jane.

The hours seemed to pass slower than any other day. By noon, Patterson could have sworn it was already 7 pm. She couldn't drink any more coffee, she wasn't hungry either. Everything she tried to do, took her double of time. She was cranky too.

Rich intercepted Tasha as soon as she got to the lab.

"I think something is wrong with Pattycakes."

"What? What happened?" She looked over, worried. Patterson was talking to Afreen.

"She's been a little moody. Not that I complain about it, it was a little fun. But I noticed her hands shaking too. Her handwriting is unreadable today."

"I'll take care of it."

"Is she on drugs?"

"What? Of course not!" She approached Rich to get a confident talk, "Look, she hadn't slept well. Reade is aware of this, there's no need for the lab team to know it too. Ok? You'll have to be in charge for the rest of the day."

Rich's eyes had a sparkle in them that terrified Tasha, but she was sure the team could handle anything he did.

"Hi honey," Tasha said approaching Patterson, "I think it's time."

"Oh, hi. Time for what?"

"To go home."

“I'm fine, you don't have to worry, ok?”

"I know you think that you are, but I've seen you like this before. I still remember when you collapsed from trying to stop Sandstorm too.”

“Well, that wasn't because of a lack of sleep, I had a radiotransm–”

“You hadn't even eaten that time,” Tasha insisted. She was sure that Patterson's collapse hadn't been only because of that transmitter. But that wasn't important now. “You are a super genius, but you still need to sleep. So take your stuff, we're leaving.”

Patterson didn't have the energy to keep arguing with Tasha and, although she might never tell her, deep down she liked that she cared for her that much. She left what she was doing in Afreen's hands, grabbed her things, and followed Tasha down the halls.

While they waited for the elevator, Tasha saw Reade in his office and just with signs, she told him that she was leaving with Patterson, as they had agreed earlier.

During the short car ride, the little energy that remained in Patterson's body faded away. It took her a lot of concentration to keep her eyes open. Her yawning became uncontrollable. Patterson's body seemed heavier but her mind couldn't rest yet. Somehow she kept seeing Jane's luminescent tattoos floating in the air around her. She had read about hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation before, but it felt weird to experience them.

“You can take a nap if you want. I'll wake you when we get there.”

The blonde shook her head and turned her gaze away following a floating tattoo with the shape of a flaming rose. Patterson's mind, obsessed with solving puzzles, made a series of theories about the reasons why her subconscious bring up that particular tattoo. But before she was capable to make any logical conclusion, they arrived at Tasha's apartment.

After a failed attempt to get out of the car, Tasha hurried to help Patterson to stand up. It was clear that her coordination was failing. She was sleep-drunk enough that climbing a stairway became a challenge. Tasha was sure she had managed to get Patterson to her apartment, just in the nick of time to prevent her from collapsing.

“I'll find you something more comfortable so you can rest better," Tasha offered when they got to the bedroom. She sat Patterson on the bed and made sure she was safe before leaving for the dressing room.

The blonde leaned back, lying crosswise in the middle of the bed. Her feet were still on the ground. She hadn't even taken off her boots. Resting her back on a soft, cushioned surface seemed like a divine pleasure. Patterson hadn't realized how much her body needed to rest until she did.

Tasha returned with a gray T-shirt and plaid pants for Patterson, only to find her deeply asleep. She shook her head, sighing in resignation. Then she took off Patterson's boots and changed out of her pants for the pajamas. She placed the blond on the bed with her head against the pillow and covered her with a blanket. Tasha closed the curtains to create a better resting environment. Finally, after changing her clothes, she lay down next to Patterson. Tasha hugged her, becoming the big spoon, and stroked her hair until she also fell asleep.

(Read it on AO3 too)

#patterson #tasha zapata #edgar reade #jane doe #kurt weller #rich dotcom #blindspot fanfic #zapatterson fic #3 + 1 #blindspot #sleep is important. do no try this at home #this had been in my drafts since 2021!!#william patterson #zapatterson

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missameliep · 2 years

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The Next Chapter (Wake the Dead - Troy Hassan x MC)

Book: Wake the Dead

Pairing: Troy Hassan x Malia Jones

Characters: Malia Jones (MC), Troy Hassan, Shannon Fox, May.

Rating: M (see notes bellow)

Word count: ~3.900

Summary: After the colonies survive the second surge, Malia and Troy make a hard choice, but one they are not going to regret. On the contrary.

Notes:

English is not my first language;

Characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC;

I don't know if we learn how old May is in the book, but I HC she's around 6/7yo, so she's 13/14yo in this story;

This fic was inspired by an ask from a lovely anonymous reader and is my submission to @choicesdecember2022 - day 7 - Question…? | kiss | middle of the night (thanks for hosting it @peonierose);

Trigger Warning: pregnancy; mentions of miscarriage; mentions of zombies; mention of a minor character death; non-descriptive mentions of medical procedure; kissing and make out; language; readers discretion advised;

The events from this fic take place 7 years after the end of the book.

“Sorry! You want me to do what?” The chair squeaked when Shannon abruptly turned around to face Malia in that small improvised space that functions both as hospital and lab, where she spends most of the hours of her days.

Fighting a laughter, Malia repeated slowly, “To remove the implant.”

The other’s gaze darted to her face, while her brain was possibly searching for any rational explanation for such an odd request. Her voice dropped to a whisper, despite the fact nobody was around, “Why? Are you experiencing pain? If you are, we can run some tests.”

This time Malia didn’t hold the laughter, remembering some of the weirdest conversations of her entire life – which is quite an accomplishment considering her frequent visits to the lab to assist on Shannon's research on drones, and the autopsies of the weirdest specimens they got ahold of that she assisted.

“Right now, no pain. But if those ladies at weaving mill were not trying to scare me, I can expect a lot of pain in my future.”

Shannon’s eyes widened and she stared in confusion. For the past eight years, since Malia broke that glass window to rescue the scientist, their friendship bloomed, they taught one another, shared secrets and had each other’s backs countless times... However, even after all these years – or because of them –, Malia wasn’t able to teach her dear friend to relax and not assume any minor complaint or request from her might hide a terrible illness that will leave her all alone again – no matter how many times she assured her even if she were gone, the colony has plenty of people who care for her. There was no time to revisit the subject now and the other's jaw tensing that much wasn't fun to watch.

Malia decided to cut her some slack and go straight to the point, “I want a baby.”

“Oh!” Shannon’s deep brown eyes widened and it was almost possible to hear the engines turning inside her head.

“You can do it, right?” she pressed, eager for a confirmation.

“Of course. It’s supposed to be a simple procedure: a small incision to remove it from under your skin and two stitches to close it.”

“Great! You’re free to do it now, right?” Malia clapped her hands and proceeded to remove her t-shirt, already knowing nobody else was coming for the doctor this time of the day.

“Don’t you have questions before we start?”

Malia shook her head, already picturing the three kids she and Troy talk about during late night shifts on watch or long trips to explore the cities they get their supplies from. He even suggested some names if they were all boys; she still hasn’t figured out why the names Huey, Dewey, and Louie are so hilarious and make him bend over with laughter.

“Are you aware of the aftereffects? Once you remove the implant, the hormonal doses will cease, and your body will go through changes. You’ll experience menstrual periods, for instance. There are reports of immensely painful experiences and some conditions that might require painkillers and medical attention.”

“Again, the mill ladies made sure to share all the gross details. So, you can check that box,” she said pointing at the clipboard over the desk where Shannon writes down information about the patients and keeps a checklist that makes her less anxious about forgetting important information she must tell the patients before actually doing any procedure. Unless it is emergency care, she believes people should have a saying on their treatment and information makes people less scared of what they will be facing.

Malia knows by heart that speech that justifies her caution. Shannon is a scientist, but necessity turned her into basically a one-woman medical team, fortunately an excellent and empathetic one, and the perfect professor to train others to deal with healthcare in the colonies.

Taking a deep breath, Shannon put the pen down and got up.

“Alright. If you already researched the side effects and are sure... We can start.”

Walking to a corner of the room, she soaped and scrubbed her hands. The scent of the sanitizer reached Malia’s nostrils, already seated at the edge of the gurney.

“It might take weeks for the hormonal levels in your body regulate,” Shannon’s words were punctuated by the light clinking of metallic items, while she fished them from a drawer. “I can run some tests in the meantime.”

“Only if you swear not to treat me like your drones...” Malia joked, and the other shoulders shook with a quiet laugh while she prepared the instruments.

“Next time, I’ll go with you and Troy to that library you mentioned. I need to research some medical books so I can know exactly the required hormonal levels, and how to keep the embryo viable until the insemination.”

“The what?”

“Embryo is the technical term for the fertilized egg that will become your baby. Or babies. Because of the odds we must implant at least two or three.” Shannon smiled to herself with the idea and turned around to face her and continued the explanation.

Now it was Malia’s turn to get confused.

“I’ll need to run some tests on Troy too, assuming he will be the donor.”

“Donor? Oh! Wait!” Malia waved her hands, finally recovering her ability to speak. “No need to help us in that whole conceiving part, we’re doing this Old-World style.”

The other’s eyebrows raised momentarily, and she took a deep breath, letting the information sink in. “So, I suppose my help won’t be necessary then...”

“If all I heard is true, I’m sure I’ll need a lot of help from you. Specially with the actual giving birth part. No way in hell I’m pushing a watermelon-sized baby through my vagina while sober. So, you better come up with a lot of drugs. And I’m talking about drugs potent enough to knock down a horse, darling!”

They laughed together and Shannon asked Malia to lie still, while she filled a syringe with the content of a small vial.

“Maly, I will do all I can to help you. I’ll research the best birthing methods. We’ll have months to prepare. Don’t worry.”

Shannon averted her gaze and took the syringe.

“If you get pregnant.” She paused and focused on cleansing her hands with sanitizer. “At the lab I saw the rates and the reasons in vitro fertilization was the chosen method to all births in the facilities. Besides the lower rates, there are higher chances of malformation and spontaneous abortion during the first weeks and –”

Malia sat up and rested a hand on her shoulder interrupting her speech.

“We’ll take our chance. You and I were conceived the old way and we turned out alright, didn’t we? Well, you more than alright, considering that you combine a genius brain with that face of yours!”

A giddy giggle escaped her lips and a smile rounded Shannon’s reddened cheeks, and she resumed the tasks. Using ice to numb and an almost insignificant fraction of a dose of anesthetic despite Malia’s protest to not spend precious resource on her.

“I’m used to pain.”

“We have enough, don’t worry,” Shannon said, holding the syringe. “You’re not scared?”

“About that huge knife you’ve got over there? Definitely!”

“Scalpel. And that’s the smallest...” she smiled softly. “And you know what I mean...”

“I’m terrified!” A chuckle rumbled in her chest. “But in a good way. Troy and I want this so much. We have talked about having a baby for years... We barely survived the first surge... But what we learned about the hives and how to get rid of them before the surge. All things considered, the second one was way smoother and I have hope things are getting back on track. There are fewer hordes now, the scouts from every colony reported; and some days are so quiet that you can almost hear the world healing. I believe one day zombies will go back to being scary tales people use to trick children into eating their veggies.”

Shannon nodded.

“The night before the surge we talked about this... And decided it was time. I turned thirty-three last month and the colony is stable. I think I could take some time to lay low without letting people down...”

“You never let anybody down.”

“You know what I mean...”

“And you can count on us.”

“I know. I can already imagine you guys helping us out. Aunt Shannon will teach the baby all the cool science stuff –”

“Aunt Shannon? I like the sound of that!”

“– and Uncle Eli will craft a tiny bow and arrow and make little charts and our baby will have the neatest crib around... And we’ll keep an eye on cool aunt Angel, so she won’t teach them how to blow things up before they are old enough... Like five or six.”

They both chuckled, and Shannon smiled thoughtfully.

“And May will be the greatest big sister...”

“She will.”

“Have you told her?”

Malia’s eyes squinted, and Shannon couldn’t tell if it was from physical pain or stirred by her question.

“We better wait till we’re sure... I don’t want to hype her and then... let her down again. She’s not being herself since Feather passed away...”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about the rates...”

“Hey! I’m a newbie in this whole pregnancy thing... and there ain’t a lot of reliable sources... so I need you to be honest with me. Promise?”

Malia offered the pinkie finger and Shannon linked hers.

“Always.”

The soft clink of the small device when it fell into the metallic tray marked the beginning of a new unfamiliar chapter of her life. But Malia hoped it would be the best yet.

Lying on the grass side by side, Troy and May were in identical positions: arms bent, hands pillowing their heads, long legs stretched, and eyes focused on the blue sky above.

When did they become so alike?

Faces bathed by the soft golden glow, their eyes followed the clouds turning shades of orange and pink; fingers pointing while they probably guessed the forms, they resembled, a game the trio often plays together.

Like the apple trees in the new orchard, may grew taller last spring. The roundness of her face, immortalized in the drawing Malia hung on their cabin wall, had disappeared, and her voice lost the honeyed childlike melody, becoming hoarser. She’s growing up into a sweet troublemaker teen that still hangs with her adoptive parents, loves storytelling – Troy has most of her favorite tales and anecdotes –, gets excited with little things like new blooms each spring, making flower crowns and riding horses, but also carries too many scars in her young soul but somehow she never lets the sadness drown the happiness glowing in her eyes.

With a spring on her step, Malia crossed the remaining distance and knelt in the small gap between them. First, she kissed the girl’s forehead, who smiled, then turned around to gently press a kiss to Troy’s shapely lips. However, the man had other plans. Encircling her shoulders with his free arm, he pulled her down, turning the sweet gentle peck into a passionate kiss. Maybe too passionate to be given in public. But he always has a little trouble following etiquette when it comes to Malia.

“Gross!” May cried and covered her eyes with one arm. “Get a room!”

“Why is she sounding like Angel?” Malia whispered.

“I have asked myself the same. It’s either one of those Freaky Friday’s situation and we’re parenting a thirty-year-old woman with an unhealthy kink of blowing stuff up or this is a bad case of teenager...”

“Hey! I can hear you!”

“Good! It means your hearing is fine. Keep it like that!”

They laughed and May rolled her eyes for good measure, but a small barely there smile pulled at the corners of her lips. A hint the little girl still lives inside the 5’3 teenager.

“So...” Troy’s gaze and undivided interest returned to Malia. “Did you do it? Is it gone?”

Malia pressed a finger to his lips and with a nod signalled May’s presence, and discreetly raised a thumb in a positive sign.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked already pulling himself up in a swift motion.

Despite knowing it was impossible to get pregnant this soon, Malia laughed at his excitement, and allowed him to hold he held her hands to pull her up. Nobody knows when the apparently peaceful day can turn into a nightmare, and she shouldn’t pass the opportunity to just be happy, silly and hopeful – and let him fuck her brains out.

“Hey! Where are you going?” May cried, and they whirled around giggling.

“Getting a room!” Troy replied with a shit-eating grin.

“Eww! I’m a child! I don’t need to know that!”

“But you asked!”

“Can I stay with Angel and Luna tonight?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Malia said. “Don’t forget the rules!”

“Brush my teeth, keep it down and don’t blow things up – unless absolutely necessary.”

“Love you!” Troy and Malia cried back in unison and blew her a kiss.

Giggling like mischievous children , they darted towards the small cabin holding each other's hands.

While they sprinted through the field, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of honeysuckles blew through the taller grass blades creating green waves.

Life is good, Malia read in Troy’s eyes the same thought that crossed her mind.

Before the door closed behind them, Troy’s hot mouth was already on Malia’s neck, sucking on her skin.

“Eager much?”

“Don’t shame me for being a hundred percent devoted to a cause,” he whispered into her ear and nibbled at the earlobe. “Pants down.”

“So bossy.” She laughed while kicking the sneakers off her feet. His white t-shirt joined them on the floor.

“I’ll make you come and put a baby in your belly.”

His bare chest pressed against her back while his hands explored his favorite curves on her body.

“Hey, careful,” she said while moving his hand away from the bandage on her lower abdomen and up to the curve of one breast.

“Sorry,” he breathed and promptly used said hand to grab her breast over her clothes, while the other fiddled with the buttons of her denim pants. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No worries. I’ll be patient,” he whispered against her neck. “We won’t leave that room until there’s a baby in the oven.”

“Don’t you dare!” She crashed her lips to his in a passionate kiss and pushed him towards the bedroom.

While they blindly moved together, she pulled away from the kiss momentarily. “Shannon said we have to be patient. It can take a while for my body to be ready.”

“What?” she asked in shock, and he placed a hand over her stomach.

“This oven. Old World slang.”

“That’s creep.”

“I like the analogy.”

“Anyway. If I can get pregnant. Shannon will run some tests to be sure...”

He spun her and pressed her back against the wall. “Good luck to not end up like one of those corpses in the lab.” He chuckled pulling her t-shirt over her head, and kissed his way down her neck to the valley between her breasts.

“Don’t think for a moment she won’t poke you too.”

“Why?” He raised his face and looked up. His eyebrows knitted together so closely, that scrunched his forehead. “Didn’t you tell her we’re doing this Old-World style?”

“I did, but she wants to help.”

“Well, she can always join us. I won’t kick her out of the bed...”

She glared and punched his bare shoulder.

“Hey! What’s that for?”

“For being the wrong kind of horny now!”

“It’s a joke!” he chuckled. Hands on the curve of her lower back, he pulled her close, but she playfully shoved him away. Pretending not to be eager to see the rest of his clothes joining the growing pile of discarded ones on the floor. “You love my horniness. It’s my best feature!”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It’s so not.

There’s so much she loves about him, but she won’t inflate his ego any more.

“Are you forgetting I was the one who suggested being exclusive?”

“You were jealous of how many people worshipped me...”

“I’m so not the possessive type –” He moved closer and in one swift motion his hands slid inside her jeans and underneath her panties and firmly palmed her ass. Malia shivered and let him pull her closer again to whisper in her ear. “– And you know you are the one and only for me, Maly.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you.”

“Do you now?” she teased.

“When have I not?” He kissed one cheek and then the other. “I loved you before I knew what love was...”

She inhaled deeply and allowed his lips to trace the curve of her neck, and her heart fluttered.

Malia and Troy aren’t fluent in feelings. They won’t compose songs or deliver long speeches about their undying love. But whenever they do talk about their feelings, they mean it. They mean everything to each other.

“I love you too,” she whispered against his black hair, while holding him tighter. Her heart so full of love. “Let’s make some cute babies!”

“Don’t ask me twice,” he said pulling her legs up to encircle his bare waist, and kicked the door closed. “In the blink of an eye, we’ll have a trio of loud kids quacking around our home!”

He laughed and stared at her smiling but unknowingly expression while he carried her to the bed.

“Seriously?”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t believe you still didn’t get it.”

“Can I hold him now?” May’s voice came as the softest whisper as if scared not only to wake up the baby but disturb the order of the entire universe. “Please?”

Her pleading drew Malia’s attention away from the baby in her arms.

For the past several minutes she has been practically hypnotized by him quietly sleeping in her arms, oblivious to the two sitting on the bed at each of her sides, welcoming the baby into their little loving awkward family. There were so many emotions in her eyes and face that shone despite the weak flame from the only small lamp Troy put beside the bed.

Nodding, Malia passed the baby to the eager arms and helped May hold him steadily.

She didn’t need to tell her to be gentle, because she touched him as one of the delicate seedlings she cultivates. Her fingers ran through the black and thick hair that looks almost like a wig on the top of his little head, and gently stroked the side of his face, drawing them along his chubby cheeks. His lips drew together like he was ready to have another go at his mother’s breasts for another dose of milk, but his eyes remained closed shut, and a serene expression returned to his face as he continues to sleep.

Malia and Troy shared an affectionate look and he leaned his head on her shoulder and rested his hand over hers.

“You should be resting. Doc’s orders,” Troy whispered. “I can take him to the crib and keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll help,” May offered.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that half an hour ago...”

“How do you expect me to sleep now that he’s finally here?”

“You’ll regret it when you’re low batt and a parade of visitors come to meet the baby first thing in the morning...”

“Another reason I can’t sleep: we have to name him.”

“What about Huey?” Troy could barely stifle his laughter with the back of his hand.

“We’re not naming our son after a cartoon duck!” Malia snorted, and this was definitely the reaction he was expecting all-along.

“Took your sweet time to figure it out!”

“Not all of us are obsessed with Old World’s stuff..."

“That’s called culture.”

May shushed them and they smiled.

“Any suggestion?” Malia whispered.

“I like Cedar,” May said, “and Knox.”

“Knox,” he said and hummed in consideration. “I like it. But don’t you think he looks like a Neo?”

“Neo means new,” May said softly, “And he is the first baby to be born in the new colony. Very symbolic.”

“And it’s the name of that cool guy with shades who got out of the Matrix to save the world.”

“Hero name. Rad!”

“Isn’t it too much pressure to a little baby?” Malia pondered.

“Our baby is destined to do great things,” he said softly. “Also, it’ a short name. If he turns out to be dumb, he won’t have a problem learning it.”

“Man! That’s so mean!” Malia elbowed him. “How can you say that about our baby?”

Laughing, he held her hand. “It’s a joke. How can he not be awesome if you made him yourself?”

“We made him.”

She leaned her head over his, and asked softly, “Do we all agree with Neo?”

“It’s not as great as Cedar... But I like it.”

Birds chirped and through the window shutters warm spots of sunrise peppered the opposite wall.

Breathing quietly in her sleep, May’s long dishevelled hair had fallen over and covered her face. Malia’s fingers pulled them back and after pressing the softest kiss to her temple, she rolled over, getting out of the bed. The painkillers were wearing off and she desperately needed to pee. After taking care of both needs, she found the crib empty.

In the other room, where they do basically every other activity that is not sleeping – and making cute babies –, Troy was sitting on the improvised couch which was basically an old mattress over a wooden structure covered with throwing pillows and a nice quilted blanket she and Eli made on their spare time two winters ago.

Eyes closed, Troy covered his shoulders with the blanket and held the sleeping baby against his chest.

Malia leaned against the wall and smiled at the scene.

“Why are you up?” he asked without opening his eyes. “I got it covered.”

“I know. I was just appreciating the view. Never imagined you could look hotter,” she teased.

The man’s eyes fluttered open, and his smirk turned into a full grin, “Haven’t you heard? Being an awesome father is the new sexy.”

“Definitely,” she said sitting beside him carefully to not disturb the baby’s rest.

“Have you got any sleep?”

“Sleep is overrated.”

Troy rested his head against hers, and asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. Sore. Happy. Like a badass for delivering this awesome baby... 75% amazing, 24% tired and 1% terrified it’s a dream...”

“It’s 100% real.”

“Hmmm... That is exactly what Dream Troy would say...”

He chuckled and raised his head to meet her eyes.

“What can Real Troy do to convince you it’s all true?”

Malia smiled, and her gaze moved from his affectionate brown eyes to the baby in his arms, lightly wheezing in his sleep. It has just been a few hours, but her heart is so full of love for this child and this urge to protect him. How can it be so?

“Real Troy can give my beautiful baby back so I can smell his head again... and nurse him. That would be great.”

Smiling, Troy leaned and let Malia carefully take Neo from his arms. The baby yawned and his eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed. Malia sniffed the top of his head and smiled, before offering one nipple that was readily taken by an eager and tiny toothless mouth.

“Anything else, mama bear?”

“You can kiss me and get some sleep.”

Troy kissed her lips but didn’t go to bed. He fell asleep leaning over her shoulder, and Malia closed her eyes too, enjoying this happiness.

Sometimes this world isn't shitty, sometimes life is good. Just like now.

#wake the dead #troy hassan #troy hassan x mc #shannon fox #choices fanfic #tw: pregnancy #tw: minor character death #tw: zombies

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ausetkmt · 8 months

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Photo by Photographer, Basak Gurbuz Derman/Getty Images.

Not getting enough sleep is detrimental to both your health and productivity. Yawn. We’ve heard it all before. But results from one study impress just how bad a cumulative lack of sleep can be on performance. Subjects in a lab-based sleep study who were allowed to get only six hours of sleep a night for two weeks straight functioned as poorly as those who were forced to stay awake for two days straight. The kicker is the people who slept six hours per night thought they were doing just fine.

This sleep deprivation study, published in the journal Sleep, took 48 adults and restricted their sleep to a maximum of four, six, or eight hours a night for two weeks; one unlucky subset was deprived of sleep for three days straight.

During their time in the lab, the participants were tested every two hours (unless they were asleep, of course) on their cognitive performance as well as their reaction time. They also answered questions about their mood and any symptoms they were experiencing, basically, “How sleepy do you feel?”

Why Six Hours of Sleep Isn’t Enough

As you can imagine, the subjects who were allowed to sleep eight hours per night had the highest performance on average. Subjects who got only four hours a night did worse each day. The group who got six hours of sleep seemed to be holding their own, until around day 10 of the study.

In the last few days of the experiment, the subjects who were restricted to a maximum of six hours of sleep per night showed cognitive performance that was as bad as the people who weren’t allowed to sleep at all. Getting only six hours of shut-eye was as bad as not sleeping for two days straight. The group who got only four hours of sleep each night performed just as poorly, but they hit their low sooner.

One of the most alarming results from the sleep study is that the six-hour sleep group didn’t rate their sleepiness as being all that bad, even as their cognitive performance was going downhill. The no-sleep group progressively rated their sleepiness level higher and higher. By the end of the experiment, their sleepiness had jumped by two levels. But the six-hour group only jumped one level. Those findings raise the question about how people cope when they get insufficient sleep, perhaps suggesting that they’re in denial (willful or otherwise) about their present state.

We Have No Idea How Much We Sleep

Complicating matters is the fact that people are terrible at knowing how much time they actually spend asleep.

According to the Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System survey, as reported by the CDC, more than 35 percent of Americans sleep less than seven hours in a typical day. That’s one out of every three people. However, those who suffer from sleep problems don’t accurately estimate how much they sleep each night.

Research from University of Chicago, for instance, shows that people are as likely to overestimate how much they sleep as underestimate it. Another sleep study published in Epidemiology, indicates people generally overestimate their nightly sleep by around 0.8 hours. The same study also estimates that for every hour beyond six that people sleep, they overestimate sleep by about half an hour. If you think you sleep seven hours a night, as one out of every three Americans does, it’s entirely possible you’re only getting six.

So no one knows how much or little they’re sleeping, and when they don’t sleep enough, they believe they’re doing better than they are.

Even just a little bit of sleep deprivation, in this case, six rather than eight hours of sleep across two weeks, accumulates to jaw-dropping results. Cumulative sleep deprivation isn’t a new concept by any means, but it’s rare to find research results that are so clear about the effects.

Fixing Sleep: Easier Said Than Done

Figuring out how to get enough sleep, consistently, is a tough nut to crack. The same advice experts have batted around for decades is probably a good place to start: Have a consistent bedtime; don’t look at electronic screens at least 30 minutes before bed; limit alcohol intake (alcohol makes many people sleepy, but it can also decrease the quality and duration of sleep); and get enough exercise.

Other advice that you’ll hear less often, but which is equally valid, is to lose excess weight. Sleep apnea and obesity have a very high correlation, according to the National Sleep Foundation. What’s more, obese workers already suffer from more lost productive time than normal weight and overweight workers.

Other causes of sleep problems include physical, neurological, and psychological issues. Even stress and worry can negatively affect sleep. The CDC has called lack of sleep a health problem, and for good reason. Diet, exercise, mental health, and physical health all affect our ability to sleep, and in return, our ability to perform to our best.

Fixing bad sleep habits to get enough sleep is easier said than done. But if you’re functioning as if you hadn’t slept for two days straight, isn’t it worthwhile?

#sleep #sleep hygiene #sleep requirements #Why Six Hours Of Sleep Is As Bad As None At All #get your 8hrs a night #cdc #sleep deprived #stress #sleep apnea

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denimbex1986 · 1 year

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'Since winning the Best Actor Oscar in 2019, Rami Malek’s career has taken a turn for the… less Oscar-winning. Perhaps it’s because he received that honor for the much-maligned Bohemian Rhapsody, a film whose accolades astounded and annoyed critics aplenty. But subsequent roles in films like Bond entry No Time to Die and last year’s box-office flop Amsterdam were either similarly criticized or, in the case of the latter, far from substantial to start with.

When he silently popped up an hour or so into Oppenheimer, then, it seemed like the latest meager appearance from a once-buzzy actor. (By 2019, he’d already won an Emmy, a Golden Globe, and an Oscar.) That Malek ends up starring in one of the film’s most searing, powerful moments came as a gigantic surprise. And it was a welcome one—J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) had his own unqualified win, all thanks to Malek’s Dr. Hill.

As Hill, Malek plays one of the scientists working on the Manhattan project, albeit not with Oppenheimer directly. Instead, he works with Dr. Enrico Fermi (Danny Deferrari) at a lab in Chicago. While Fermi’s team create the nuclear reactor, both Fermi and Hill remain steadfast about the atomic bomb not being used directly on cities.

Despite holding this belief, Malek’s Dr. Hill is a man of almost no words. Instead, he mostly appears alongside Fermi, trying to offer Oppenheimer a petition to look at: the Szilárd petition, which 70 scientists signed and sent to President Truman in protest of bombing the Japanese. The two times that this occurs, however, Oppenheimer knocks Hill’s hand away in frustration. It’s a humbling role for Malek, as he is seen primarily as a minor annoyance in his scant appearances.

For much of the runtime, Malek’s Oppenheimer performance was so small as to almost appear like the result of a Faustian bargain. Yes, he could be in one of the guaranteed biggest movies of the year, but only if he agreed to keep his mouth shut the entire time. By the second time he showed up and said nothing, I openly laughed. Unpopular Best Actor winners stay losing, I guess.

Except that in Oppenheimer, this oft-mocked Best Actor honoree reminds us how he managed to collect all those awards in the first place. Malek holds his tongue for much of the film, only to let it rip as the film reaches its denouement—set years after he was but a petition-holding no-name in Oppenheimer’s periphery.

Oppenheimer’s structure includes two parallel timelines: one following the journey of the physicist’s horrible creation, the other following the events surrounding Lewis Strauss’s (Robert Downey, Jr.) congressional confirmation hearing. He was up for a Cabinet position in Eisenhower’s White House, a long-held dream of his that he’s been masterminding for years. The film builds up to revealing why Strauss is such a meaningful figure in Oppenheimer’s life: Strauss conspired to have Oppenheimer named as a communist, based on his petty dislike for the man. Being that this was the mid-’50s, such a claim was among the worst possible accusations a government employee could face.

The film establishes this as a thrilling courtroom drama, in which we root for the beleaguered “father of the atom bomb”—something that, at that point, is otherwise hard to do. We know that much of what he’s being accused of is neither relevant to his scientific achievements nor accurate; the assertion that Oppenheimer opposed the hydrogen bomb so as to set the Soviets up for a win against the States was a clear falsity.

Strauss himself admits to his aide, played by Alden Ehrenreich, that his great dislike for Oppenheimer encouraged him to help get the scientist’s government clearance revoked and effectively end his career. But he’s a charmer, and public opinion has long soured on Oppenheimer; Strauss’ confirmation for the Cabinet seems all but assured—until Dr. Hill is brought in to testify at the hearing.

Hill shows up to quietly, confidently, clearly call out Strauss for his wrongdoing. As the then-chairman of the Federation of American Scientists, his word held clout—so when he said that Strauss’ unfair damnation of Oppenheimer stoked the ire of the entire scientific community, it meant something. Malek’s typically measured cadence lends his performance a rousing gravitas, especially from a character who had up to this point been a distracting piece of wallpaper. Sitting before Congress, Malek’s Hill offers a searing indictment of Strauss, the character we have come to learn is Oppenheimer’s villain, all in a scant two minutes.

To tout Malek as a surprise witness at Oppenheimer’s turning point feels like the film showing all of its cards in the eleventh hour. It’s made more effective by the fact that his presence was felt before, albeit for the opposite reason. As Hill, he was largely a nonentity in Oppenheimer’s crew. In his one big scene, in which he forcefully shames Strauss for manipulating Hill’s fellow scientists into affirming Oppenheimer’s alleged communism, his presence is impossible to ignore; if he had more lines as an even smaller part of the large ensemble, perhaps his damning piece of testimony would have felt like less of a secret weapon.

This heel turn was especially striking, considering that Hill’s opinion of Oppenheimer seemed less positive beforehand. The physicist had repeatedly rejected Hill, who openly opposed the government’s use of Oppenheimer’s greatest invention.

Thanks to Hill, the film tells us, Strauss doesn’t get the Cabinet position he so badly wants—a win as much as any in a movie like Oppenheimer. And it’s the first career win Malek’s had in a while too: a moment in the spotlight that elicits gasps, applause, and a deserved heaping of praise.'

#Rami Malek #David Hill #Lewis Strauss #Robert Downey Jr.#Oppenheimer #No Time to Die #Amsterdam #Oscar #Cillian Murphy #Enrico Fermi #Danny Deferrari

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bills-pokedex · 2 years

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(Mod Question)

Oh… was the state of Scarlet and Violet the reason why you took a hiatus?

{Admittedly, no—it just had hilariously excellent timing.

If we're talking about the blog alone, the hiatus was (and is, as it's still technically going on) purely accidental because of a cross between RL stuff and me spending a lot more time on original fic, which honestly makes me happier than writing fanfiction ever has. There's something about toying with a universe you've created entirely on your own—and, also admittedly, seeing how many people are actually interested in reading what you create. I'm actually working on three different novels at the moment, one of which I plan on self-publishing sometime next year (and another of which is a delightful fantasy romance that's best described as "powerverse meets FFXIV Endwalker," should anyone be interested), and the amount of support I've gotten from writeblr, Tumblr's writing community, for these novels has been incredible.

But really, I do it for the freedom and the peace of it. I sort of alluded to this when I left fandom as a whole, but when I was super involved with the fandom, I felt like I was constantly doing things for other people or changing parts of myself to please others, only to have people violate my boundaries, take advantage of me, treat me like crap, ignore me/my needs, etc, and then go off on me because I wasn't doing what they wanted. There are good people in fandom, don't get me wrong. It's just that there are also a lot of people who don't really acknowledge that other people on the internet are, you know. Other people. If you catch my drift.

Point is, I just wasn't having fun. At all. And I guess that's also why I haven't really been back all that much. It's been hard to do much with Pokémon because sometimes, when I look at anything to do with it, I'm just reminded of how many years I'd spent making myself miserable when I could have been embracing the things I love. Like, apparently, I really like film analysis, and I never really knew that before because I'd always spend my time talking about Pokémon? And lost media! I spent two hours watching somebody on YouTube talk about how they discovered the lost Saban Moon pilot, and it was incredible. And musicals—apparently, I love musicals too!

And then, the writing! I wrote an entire book that was probably about 75% one dude monologuing, and people actually liked it? Not a single comment was disparaging? They're excited to see me turn it into a book they can hold?

I guess what I'm trying to say is for a very long time, I wasn't having fun with fandom. If anything, I was just hanging around because I liked Bill and Lanette and because I felt like I had to in some respects. So I kinda had to leave to do my own thing and figure things out, and that became a hiatus for the blog too, not because I intended to leave it when I left fandom (I was planning on doing more of my own thing here, after all) but more because I realized I was just having more fun doing other stuff.

Now, again, don't get me wrong. I still like this blog and want to continue running it. It's just that it isn't as much of a priority for me as it used to be. Will I ever close the askbox and write an ending? Maybe. I'd thought about it, even. It's been a couple of years since we last really heard from Bill and Lanette, and I had thoughts about writing a post in which we find out they've gotten married and started in on a new project—maybe even lay the foundations of Halcyon Labs, as a nod to one of my fanfics. But if that post ever comes, it'll be some time far off, I think. I'm not quite done with this blog just yet.

But! Yes, I'm still on hiatus. Technically.}

#asks #from the mun

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themomsandthecity · 2 days

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I'm a Better Parent Because I Have an iPad Kid - Here's Why

Like many people before they have kids, I thought I knew exactly how I would parent. And for the first year of my daughter's life, I was pretty strict. No added sugar, no screens, lots of outdoor activities, music classes, and library visits. I was trying to be the "perfect mom" I saw on Instagram, but it was exhausting. Just as her first birthday came in March 2020, so did a global pandemic. Being home all the time meant more cleaning, more cooking, and a lot less to do outside of the house. As she got older, I loosened my restrictions because, frankly, I was tired and needed a break. I think the early days of COVID-19 were hard on everyone, and the uncertainty of the world filled me with anxiety. She also was learning less from outside sources, so I used educational programming on an iPad to fill that gap. At age 2, we only watched "Sesame Street." But as she got older, more shows started being added to the devices, and screen time increased well past the recommended one-hour-per-day limit, many doctors suggest. Her day is now filled with a mix of watching educational programs like "Emily's Wonder Lab" on Netflix, learning a new language on Duolingo, playing games on an app like Noggin, and video chatting with long-distance family. Now I know what you're thinking, and yes, having a child spend too much time in front of a screen is never the move. But fortunately, experts say being an iPad kid isn't entirely unhealthy. --- Experts Featured in This Article Joel "Gator" Warsh, MD, is a pediatrician in Studio City, CA. --- "Screen time can be a valuable tool for parents, offering kids a focused activity during travel, allowing for smoother meal preparations, and providing parents with much-needed downtime," pediatrician Joel "Gator" Warsh, MD, says. "It's a practical aspect of modern parenting that, when used judiciously, can support parents' mental health and daily logistics." Plus, my daughter's screen time is in combination with her attending school full-time, learning a second language, participating in three sports, exploring New York City, and playing with the many toys in our home - something that experts say is key. "Parents can feel less guilty by ensuring that screen time is balanced with other activities," Dr. Warsh says. "It's about the quality and context of screen use, not just the quantity. Using screens as a part of a varied and balanced schedule can alleviate guilt." Most importantly, though, her screen time makes me a better parent. Just as much as she likes watching TV or playing games on an iPad, I, too, sometimes need that time to do something or to take a moment for myself and protect my mental health. I allow her to watch shows to relax and unwind so that I can also relax and unwind. On the weekends, when I want to watch a show with my husband, she is allowed to watch her iPad. When I'm making dinner and don't want her around knives and a hot stove, she is allowed to watch her iPad. When we're flying together and I'm feeling sick from airplane ear, she's allowed to watch her iPad. Just as much as she likes watching TV or playing games on an iPad, I, too, sometimes need that time to do something or to take a moment for myself and protect my mental health. If I'm able to complete a task faster while she is distracted with an iPad for a few minutes, it means I can then offer my undivided attention to her. Likewise, if I'm able to rest and recharge while she watches a 30-minute show, I'm less likely to be anxious or short with her for the rest of the day. In a very unscientific poll I did with my friends around the country, all of them, even those whose kids don't have their own personal iPads, told me they rely on screens at least sometimes - on planes, in cars, at restaurants - when they need a moment of peace. And what I gather from this is that even though screen time is looked down upon and demonized, it seems like everyone is doing it, to varying… https://www.popsugar.com/family/ipad-kid-better-parent-personal-essay-49331755?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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findinginga · 7 months

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A Dark, Cold Wednesday in St. Petersburg…

...time to refocus and prepare to return home

It had been my intention to visit the Hermitage Museum without Inga. There seemed to me that there would be little to gain by having Inga and Eva make the trip. Afterall, I would not be deprived of Inga's company as her previous physical presence had not translated into warm memories. Given her announcement of the previous evening that it was both a financial and emotional burden for her to make daily trips to visit me, perhaps it was best for us both to just let it go. Inga texted many times to express her displeasure with my decision.

Despite her previous declarations that the decisions others made were of no consequence to her, Inga was clearly triggered by my decision. Her words were angry and purposefully cruel. Early in the afternoon, she texted that she was sending a taxi to the hotel in order to collect some photos that were taken of the three of us the previous day at Smile Park. She angrily declared that she could not trust how I would use the photos; therefore, she asked me to send them with the driver. I could not fathom as to why this would be a worry for her. What could I possibly do with these photos that would cause harm or create danger other than to post them on a public forum? This, I concluded was her concern - being exposed (pun intended). The photos were of no consequence to me; therefore, I bundled them together with a few gifts that remained in my luggage. To the package I added 6,000 rubles I retrieved from a nearby ATM. Irrespective of Inga's nonsensical reasoning as to why she kept me at a distance the entire visit, it was important for me to reimburse her for travel expenses. I dutifully handed the package off to the driver upon his arrival and returned to my hotel room.

I had little motivation to do more than spend a few hours working. I thought of what I might do the following day. Thursday would be my last full day in St. Petersburg. Inga and Eva were leaving for Pskov in the early afternoon. I needed to locate a reputable clinic or lab to perform a COVID-19 screening which would be required as I transited through Helsinki and London and then to reenter the US.

As afternoon gave way to evening, I ordered dinner and then texted Inga asking if we could meet on Thursday prior to her departure. At the very least I wanted to say good-bye to them in person. There is no doubt that my visit served as a stressor for all parties. Perhaps Eva enjoyed her visits to the indoor amusement parks and Inga and Eva shared some good moments visiting with family. I doubt that Inga found much joy in my company while my overall experience with her was a bitter disappointment. Regardless, I thought it only appropriate to recognize and thank Inga for making the trip. Initially Inga resisted the idea of meeting but she eventually relented as she recognized that she and Eva would have to make the trip to the city center to board the train. Inga wrote that she would text me when they were leaving the home of Nikita.

Thursday, my last full day in St. Petersburg...

I awoke early on Thursday morning and after showering and dressing I made my way to the hotel restaurant which featured a very nice breakfast buffet. I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and coffee while catching up on news. It was slightly after 9:00 am when I returned to my room to collect my coat, scarf and the necessary documents I would require for the testing lab. As it was a crisp but partly sunny morning, I decided to walk to the testing lab. Besides, it would be likely be my last opportunity to view some of St. Petersburg.

My selection of this lab was quite deliberate as it was close to the central business area and an easy walk to Galleria which, was my next destination as I awaited word from Inga. While in the mall I did a little shopping for Eva at the Lego Store. Based on Inga's previous comments, Eva enjoyed Lego blocks so I was not worried that Eva would be disappointed. I purchased a challenging set for her along with a pink backpack bearing Lego branding. I descended the escalators to the main level and entered Starbucks to order a coffee.

More passive-aggressive behavior...

It was 11:30 am and then noon and then 12:30 pm. Finally there was a text from Inga asking me to meet her at a coffee shop in 20 minutes. She provided a screen shot from her phone but, unfortunately, the name of the shop as well as the address were in Cyrillic. Inga provided no directions. I used what tools I had to translate the message into a usable form in order to obtain directions. I was finally able to locate the shop but the distance was too great to walk in that 20 minute window Inga prescribed. I managed to order a car to get me to the location just minutes before Inga and Eva were to leave for the train station in a taxi.

I had only moments with Inga as she was standing at the counter preparing to pay for for a few snack items she purchased for the train trip to Pskov. I was put off by her passive-aggressive demonstration but I did not want to make an issue of it in the last few moments I would share with her. I plunged the remaining rubles I had into her coat pocket as I knew I would not need them after today and I gave a very excited Eva her gift. We left the shop and I walked her to the waiting taxi. I wanted very much to accompany them to the train station but Inga emphatically rejected my suggestion. As we said our good-byes I embraced her and attempted to draw her in to hug her. She vigorously pushed me away and then disappeared inside the taxi.

This was to be my last face-to-face encounter with Inga who, once again left me behind, alone.

#relationship #pskov #dating scam #narcissistic sociopath #npd #ingeborga #scam #reshetnikov #jewellerysiren #ingaborgia #lopatyuk #sankt petersburg #passive aggressive

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seoenthusiast · 1 year

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ya-boi-river · 2 years

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GET TO KNOW ME !!!

seeing as this is a new account I've decided to do some "icebreakers" because, if I'm being honest, i have nothing better to do

1. if you could have an endless supply of any food, what would you get?

hash browns as there the most versatile food and can be bought almost anywhere

2. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?

I feel like I'm supposed to say an animal such as a wolf but i would 100 percent be a red panda because they can not be threatening to save there life

3. What is one goal you’d like to accomplish during your lifetime?

ideally I would like to work in Australia zoo so I can help with the conservation of native species

what is you favourite part of your university course

at the moment I'm about to start semester two of my foundation course. during the first semester I enjoyed biology even though it was tough at first as I had not done biology since my first year of animal management (which was two years ago)

in semester two I'm looking forward to doing "environmental science" as it sounds like we would be learning similar content to when I was in collage. that and the other option is chemistry and I don't actually think i passed chemistry at a GCSE level never mind at a degree level

Who is your hero? (a parent, a celebrity, an influential person in one’s life)

my cousin due to her resilience in her role of being a carer for 4 members of my family, all of which live in the same house as her and her boyfriend

If I could be anybody besides myself, I would be…

because who wouldn't want to be both doctor who and Crowley

What’s your favourite thing to do in the summer?

go to Blackpool with the ENTIRE half of my family on my dads side despite the trip done being loud, stressful and at least one argument starting

What’s your favourite cartoon character, and why?

Spiderman. because its Spiderman

If you could visit any place in the world, where would you choose to go and why

Canada because I want to go and watch the Toronto maple leaves play hockey

What’s the ideal dream job for you?

head keeper at Australia zoo

Are you a morning or night person?

night. I get most of my work done in the late hours of the night because I struggle to fall asleep

What are your favourite hobbies?

playing D&D with my group ("the gay fire club" which should tell you a lot about me and my mates) and that's it because the rest of my time is spent doing work for uni

If you had to describe yourself using three words, it would be…

passionate

determined

emotional

If someone made a movie of your life would it be a drama, a comedy, a romantic-comedy, action film, or science fiction?

science fiction as I spend a lot of my time in a lab

If I could be anybody besides myself, I would be…

#zoology #biology #get to know me #university #student #uk study #work in progress #semester #environment #environmetalists #ecology #biodiversity #dnd 5e #relax #university exams

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you’re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

#yandere albedo x reader #Yandere Albedo #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Male yandere #Yandere x reader #Yandere #male yandere #my writing

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Oh! Okay so what if Elana Gilbert and Bella Swan swap places, (like, swap their brains i guess, so their friends and family still think theyre the same) what would happen to them? Would Elana survive Edward’s affections? Would Bella react well to Stefan and Damon? (I kno you only saw some of the show, but i think you saw all the seasons Elana is human, and thats what matters.)

Hm, well the vampires from The Vampire Diaries are human in every way that counts, they're essentially sexier humans with a funky diet.

Elena is in love with Stefan for Stefan, his vampirism is just a facet of him. Edward will be as horrifying to her as a Twilight vampire normally is to humans.

Bella, meanwhile, is in love with Edward for all the wrong reasons. She's not going to fall for Stefan and Damon.

What happens to Twilightified Elena

Depends on when Elena is thrown into Twilight. And on when it is for Elena as well, is it at the beginning of TVD? Because if so, then she's mourning her parents and doesn't know about anything supernatural.

If so, then Elena has a terrible time because she must mourn for her parents in this world where no one knows they died, in fact the internet tells her they never existed in the first place, and there's this well-meaning stranger who wants to father her in their place. The angst would be unreal.

But, Elena of canon wanted to tough it out and stay her partying self, even if only on the surface, so she'd become best friends with Jessica and Lauren, and go with them to every party imaginable.

Somehow or other she loses the Yandere simulator, and is eaten by Edward.

If we take Elena from the end of season 2, then this is an Elena who knows about the supernatural. Bodyswaps are a thing in TVD, so she's stunned to find it happened to her and worried about Bella Swan, but she's got her bearing.

Or so she thinks.

Turns out, the year is 2005.

She tries to get in contact with someone, anybody, from her own world. She searches for the Salvatores, for witches, and in a final last act of desperation she puts on an ad on craigslist to get Elijah.

There's no trace of any of them. Not even when she gets desperate enough to post "Petrova döppelganger looking for original vampire" on her myspace.

Nothing, not even Klaus, just silence.

More terrifyingly yet, it appears Mystic Falls doesn't exist anymore.

It's a terrified Elena Gilbert who walks into Forks High the day after.

She knows at a sight that there's something wrong with the Cullens. When Edward spends an entire hour glaring at her for daring to exist, she is officially creeped out.

Elena returns home very scared that day.

She's in a new place, she doesn't know how to get home, and there are terrifying people at her school who seem to have it out for her.

She spends the following week confirming that everything she ever knew has simply ceased to exist.

Then Edward returns to school after a week's absence, and asks a series of questions aimed at finding out who she is and why she came to Forks.

Elena starts putting two and two together.

Of three things, she is absolutely certain.

One, reality has been rewritten. The people and places in Elena's life no longer exists, nor does Elena herself for that matter.

Two, no one in this world apart from Elena herself appears to be aware that this has happened.

Three, the one other anomaly in this world is the Cullens. They're clearly not human, and act not unlike pod people than everybody else, in fact they interact with no one. Except Elena herself. Who is being singled out by them.

Elena comes to the terrifying conclusion that the Cullens are an unknown species, a powerful magical one, capable of rewriting the laws of reality.

And she doesn't know if she's an accident, if she's Neo misbehaving in the Matrix, or if this reality marble was created to entrap her specifically.

She decides she's had enough.

She has no powers, no resources, no contacts.

What she does have is her wits.

And, possibly, the element of surprise.

Armed with nothing, Elena gets in the truck and drives to the Cullen house, having gotten the address somehow, and made sure to tell Charlie, Jessica, Lauren, Mike, and her Myspace where she's going.

There, she marches up their porch, knocks on their door, and asks to speak with them.

The Cullens, on their end, are stunned.

From their point of view, this is the anonymous singer who's been tormenting Edward. Yes, she has a name and all that, but they don't know anything about her.

More, she should have no interest in them.

Wanting to appear in control of the situation, Elena calls them in to the living room for an honest conversation, all cards on the table.

Well shit, the Cullens say to themselves, Edward's singer had to be the one girl in North America who knows about vampires.

Now, I do believe Elena is too intelligent to blurt everything she knows immediately and lose her leverage.

No, she asks them if she was supposed to know or not.

The question makes perfect sense to her - is she an anomaly in the Matrix, could it be Jessica is in fact amnesia Caroline and Forks as a whole is actually just nu-Mystic Fall, or is it just Elena?

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder how on earth this girl can think she was supposed to know she was Edward's singer and that they're vampires.

She may not know what she thinks she knows.

Carlisle tells her the truth. No, miss Swan, you were not supposed to know.

Taking this as confirmation that she's in the Matrix, Elena asks if there are others. She, of course, is wondering if there are other people, perhaps right here in Forks, either with amnesia or else keeping their heads low, who have been taken from the real world.

Or, more chillingly, if everyone is living fake lives in this fake world.

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder what others she's talking about.

Carlisle takes the plunge. Either she knows what the word means or she doesn't, if she doesn't then she'll have nothing to google because this isn't known to humans at all, plus the word is only a rough translation of the Italian term.

"Other singers, you mean?"

Elena blinks.

Singers, like sirens?

The Cullens are terribly beautiful.

But... sirens?

She stows this away for future use.

Elena decides this conversation has been cryptic enough, and point blank tells the Cullens that she means people who don't belong in this reality at all.

I imagine there comes a point where Carlisle has to call Aro. The girl knows nothing about vampires, she thinks they're semi-harmless human-looking creatures that burn in the sun and can be killed by humans. She's not a problem in that regard.

So Aro gets a call from Carlisle, explaining how a human girl showed up on his doorstep claiming he had created an alternate reality, and that her world apparently has a different worldbuilding altogether.

Oh, and Carlisle's telepath son can't read her mind.

He is in Forks practically before Carlisle can hang up the call.

I imagine Elena gets to spend years as a human, because if the body of Bella Swan is somehow a link to another dimension, then altering that into another species might sever the link.

No, Elena, Aro, and Carlisle spend the following years in a Volterra lab, trying and failing to engineer a pathway back to her world.

In the end, if they're unsuccessful, Elena is turned into a vampire, and Aro has a jolly good time reading her memories from another dimension once she has the control to let her shields down.

Elena, who only ever wanted to be human and thought TVD vampires were too spicy to turn into, cries.

What happens to TVDified Bella

Bella somehow manages to feel guilty about not being Elena. This must all be her fault. Somehow.

An optimist as always, Bonnie dives headfirst into reversing whatever spell was put on her best friend.

She never succeeds, and both women are crushed by guilt over something not their fault.

Damon, I imagine, kills Bella sooner or later during a drunken outburst.

#damon salvatore #bella swan #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight headcanons #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries meta

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55.

He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair.

This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place.

Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you.

He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad.

“Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him.

He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

“Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine.

A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel.

"And, the other girl you saw is—"

"I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?"

"Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago.

Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown.

Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team?

He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology?

Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike.

Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you.

"If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him.

Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing.

With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows.

"Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you?

The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you.

The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

"This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake.

"Happy to be working with you."

It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it.

The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college.

And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all.

"Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic.

You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there.

"Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

"Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not.

"Thanks. Mobs made it."

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer.

You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you.

"Here."

He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable.

"I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that.

"Do you, though?" He asks.

"Do I what?"

"Look forward to working here."

"Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

"Very big."

"It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

"Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head.

He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table.

"Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you?

Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you.

He needs to fucking call Erwin.

"Hey, bro, what's up?"

"Dude," is all Mike says at first.

"What?"

"You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

"You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly.

"Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years.

"Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?"

"It—Wait, what did she say?"

"Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

"No name-calling or confessions of undying love?"

"No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts.

"Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

"Could have been better too."

"What? How—"

"Could have bent her over the desk and—"

"Dude!"

Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months.

"I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?"

"Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

"Yeah, yeah."

They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you.

You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice.

"Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!"

"Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

"Hitch—"

"Breathe!"

You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

"You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away.

"Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her.

"Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself.

"Agreed."

"Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?"

You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

"Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?"

You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

"Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

"Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up.

You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

"Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice.

You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him.

He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes.

"He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?"

"God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

"Why would you—"

"Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

"I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

"Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

"And, Maddie."

You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to.

"Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort.

"And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet.

Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome.

"I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

"Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

"I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

"Why?" You question with a head shake.

Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

"No, I—"

"I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

"I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums.

"Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

"Then, talk."

"Mm, pass."

A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?"

"Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe.

"Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles.

"Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns.

"You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you.

"Uh, yeah?"

Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

"Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl.

It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door.

Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet.

You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn.

"'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts.

You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea.

You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway.

While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead.

Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick).

And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out.

You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too.

It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

It is not a productive work environment.

Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out.

There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake.

"You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

"Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you.

"You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up.

"Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

"I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

"You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

"Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

"Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table.

You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

"I don't wanna talk!"

You really don't. But, you also really do.

Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week.

He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs.

It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.

Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting.

Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings.

Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural?

Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it.

"It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

"You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says.

"I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?"

"I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

"'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching.

"Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

"Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks.

Mike frowns. "Uh, no?"

"Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

"We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks.

"What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

"Well—"

"Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

"Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles.

"I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

"I'm hanging up now."

Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

"Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

"Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

"I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

"Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god.

"Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

"We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks.

"Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

"Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

"Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation.

Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

"Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

"I didn't say anything!" He laughs.

"You don't have to. I know."

Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away.

The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things.

He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now.

Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else.

"Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home.

Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything.

It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday.

"Where'd you even find those?"

You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

"So, you went… dumpster diving?"

Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos.

"Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?"

Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

"I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

"Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

"It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

"Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully.

Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

"I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows.

"You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him.

"Ew."

"Just spitball. Throw it at me."

"Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him.

"Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts.

You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels.

"So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago.

He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it.

"Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

"It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk.

You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college.

"Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's.

"What of it?"

"These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

"Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

"I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment.

"It was easier on the eyes," you explain.

"It was a frat boy car."

"You were a frat boy!"

"And, now I'm a professional."

"Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk.

"Most of the time."

The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive.

He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside.

This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

"Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

Then, you shake your head.

"No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I mean, if that works for you."

"Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

"God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe.

"I've always been an early riser."

"Not from what I remember."

Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time.

"Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too.

Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast.

Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections.

His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears.

He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

“Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I, honestly.”

Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago.

“You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

“What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be.

There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely.

Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

“So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

“Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

“Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

“Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy.

Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago.

It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave.

Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day.

You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

“So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

So much for letting the past stay there.

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

“I really think we do.”

“Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

“Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing.

“I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse.

“I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.”

The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild.

“Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair.

“If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

“Do you not feel the same way then?”

Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

“You were in love?”

“Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

“I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

“Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned.

“Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there.

This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back.

“Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

“Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans.

You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did.

“This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

“Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much.

You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you.

“Oh, fuck.”

You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point.

Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it.

Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue.

“A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open.

Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart.

“Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

“Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears.

It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

“Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?"

You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?"

"Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

"Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?"

Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp.

He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you.

Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you.

"Miche, please."

"You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight.

"Good enough to fuck me?"

"Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears.

It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name.

"You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out.

You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time.

Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything.

"I—I—I—..."

"You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you.

Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this.

And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike.

His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

"Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees.

He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it.

Another day.

Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb.

Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly.

His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much.

That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

"Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him.

Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again.

But, not yet. Not yet.

Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit.

He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand.

"Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down.

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss.

He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down.

"You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

"Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you.

"Jesus fucking—"

Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation.

He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen...

Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it.

As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth.

The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry.

The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him.

He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever.

You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you.

"God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with.

"Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses.

He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away.

"We were, weren't we?"

"Mhm."

Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him.

He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

"I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast.

"You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?"

He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands.

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face.

He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you.

Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

"Wasn't positive."

Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you.

He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip.

He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does.

Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them.

But first, he needs to call his mom.

It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field.

When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you.

"Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them.

"I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

"It's been going on for a long time now," you snort.

Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?"

"Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head.

You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind.

The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends.

You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again.

Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes.

"Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps.

"Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles.

"It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds.

You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin.

Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner.

"God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate).

"Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

"Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door.

The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume.

"I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them.

Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip.

Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.

A small pink box.

A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it.

"Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

"Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

"You are fucking impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up.

It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now.

"Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling.

"Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells.

"Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

"Yeah, good call, bro."

"I hate both of you."

"Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him.

And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

"Against my better judgement," you smirk.

He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you.

"Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others.

Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

"I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off.

"Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

"Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?"

Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

"Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles.

You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?”

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him.

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper.

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did.

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy.

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day.

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole.

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill.

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair.

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen ) werewolf sex, ruts, knotting etc

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Chapter 5

I found myself breathing through my nose, woozy and incoherent as the doctor fussed over me.

“This is looking pretty damn bad, Dr. Jeon...” He was muttering while Jungkook sat next to me gripping my hands. My throat went dry at the words, fear making my heart jackrabbit against my ribs.

“The bullet’s hit pretty close to artery near the clavicle, she’s lost a whole lot of blood. “

“Seo Joon’s going to prison for this... “ Jungkook swore, stroking my palm as I tried to stay conscious.

“Tell me I don’t have to stay in the hospital for a long time...” I begged, desperate.

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“You got shot... It’s not a playground scrape, Mirae....” Jungkook sounded exhausted.

I nodded.

“ Whats going on with my father? Seo Joon was pissed off about something with my father....” I said, remembering the reason the wolf had been so pissed in the first place.

“We’ll talk about this later- You need to rest and-”

“Just tell me damn it!!”

Jungkook sighed.

“Your father got called out for trying to sabotage the vaccine drive going on on the island and he played the whole, ‘ why would I sabotage something my daughter helped make...’ card on TV. It’s had an effect....”

I swallowed.

“What do you mean by effect?”

Jungkook looked a little angry now.

“Can’t we talk about this tomorrow...you’re bleeding and hurt ...you need to fucking rest...”

“What’s going on...?” I demanded.

“The weres don’t want the vaccine anymore. They think...well they think you may have tampered with it....” He looked uncomfortable and I couldn’t comprehend what I’d just heard.

I stared at him, my jaw going slack in shock.

“I’m not.... I have nothing to do with the vaccine...that is so far above my paygrade..I’m a lab tech..... what even-” I was too outraged to even think clearly.

“People don’t know that, Rae. All they know is that they have always associated your father with bringing harm to the were community and somehow his daughter is here working on something that has the potential to both hurt and heal.....”

I bit my lips.

“He’s not even my real father.” I choked out.

Jungkook looked surprised at that.

“What?”

“It’s true. He adopted me because he raped my mom and she fucking killed herself over it. I was eight years old at the time and the bastard did not want any loose ends...” The words came out , bitter and edged with anger but it was an old hurt. An old rage that had long faded into a blunt sort of ache. I had been so young. Too young to fully comprehend

Jungkook looked completely stunned.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry....”

“He wanted me to marry one of his anti-were associates . That's literally all he raised me for. When I refused , he cut me off completely. I’ve literally been on my own for years now and my job is the only thing keeping me from dying on the streets....”

I hissed when the nurse touched my shoulder , the physical agony of my shoulder somehow intensifying as the nurse moved to finish dressing the wound. I would have to wear a sling next but I couldn’t even fathom moving, let alone sitting up for that ordeal.

The nurse gave me a slight smile.

“Your ribs are bruised again , this time its going to take longer to heal because one of them actually has a hair line fracture.”

Great. That explained the woozy breathlessness.

“It doesn’t hurt much...” I said confused.

“That’s because you’re on enough drugs to fell a horse...I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious.” Jungkook shook his head.

“It’s just the adrenaline...that and the fear of being fired.” I muttered.

Jungkook laughed a little at that.

“Don’t worry about anything. Just rest for a while and we’ll talk tomorrow , yeah?”

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

I woke up to fingers in my hair, soft and gentle.

My eyes fluttered open and I felt my breath catch when I saw who it was.

“Yuggie ??” I croaked out, my brother’s face coming into focus as I blinked back exhaustion.

“Welcome to the land of the living...” He said softly, keeping his fingers on my hair, stroking the strands back gently.

“What..... how did you get here so soon?” I whispered.

“You’ve been out for forty hours, baby....” He laughed a little and I blinked,

“I....I got hurt.” I whispered bleakly. My shoulder was still throbbing and the pain in my rib was now a bit more prominent. I took a deep shuddering breath.

“I’m glad you’re here.... “ I whispered, lifting shaky hands to hold his face.

“Dad called me. He wants you to come back home.”

I felt my entire body going cold, hands going clammy at once.

“That’s not going to happen.” I said sharply and Yugyeom looked worried.

“He’s really upset , Rae. Kim Taehyung winning the election was not a part of his plan and he’s desperate to try and cover his ass before he gets carted off to prison.”

I blinked at that.

“what do you mean by prison?”

“We can’t talk about this here. He’s not allowed on the island. None of his cohorts are. So he’s been trying to get you transferred to a hospital in Seoul. Jeongguk was the one who called me. They’re holding off on the transfer but ....you know how dad gets.”

I felt my head pound .

“What does he want me for?” I whispered in disbelief.

“I’m not sure. But I think you should at least go see him and find out what it is that he wants.”

I shook my head .

“I’m not going anywhere near him, I’m-”

The door swung open and I found myself jerking in surprise, the movement jostling my ribs and making me wince. I felt my eyes widen when I saw who it was, fingers scrambling to grab Yugyeom .

“Dad...” He whispered, sounding terrified and I felt that familiar jolt of sickening fear .

“There she is.... my precious little one.” My father’s eyes held no emotion as he stared at me, lips curled in a perfect smile. He looked so much like a good guy that it was nauseating.

I took a deep shuddering breath.

“the management here is terrible. I had to petition the fucking courts to get a permit to visit my own daughter.” He shook his head as he made his way over and I lurched away instinctively.

“I’m taking you home now. Bout time you came back to me.” He smiled, chillingly and I shook my head.

“No...thats not going to happen. I’m an adult, you cannot force me to...”

“You are my daughter. And you will be my daughter till you live. Cha Eun woo is still single. He’s looking for a wife and you were promised to him a long, long time ago. “

“Dad.... she’s fucking hurt...she got shot like three days ago can you not do this right now...” Yugyeon had stood up, reaching out to actually shove my father away and he looked surprised for a second.

He gave Yugyeom a glare but my brother didn’t back down, towering over my father easily.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive but it just worries me that my only daughter is choosing to stay in an island full of beasts and getting mauled quite often . Isn’t this the second time you got attacked in that same cabin, by wolves?”

“that doesn’t mean you can just offer me as a gift to one of your buddies.” I hissed.

“He’s one of the richest men in Seoul....you should be on your knees thanking me for letting you so much as breathe near him.”

“Isn’t he a werewolf?” Yugyeom frowned in confusion.

My father shrugged.

“I’ve since learned that your sister has a preference for them. Well if she’s going to spread her legs for an animal, better an animal I happen to hold the leash to....” He stared down at me with calculated cruelty.

The crude words made nausea rise up in my throat and I almost dry heaved.

“You’re not pimping me out to serve your own selfish purposes.” I shook my head.

“He’s here. Outside. He’s going to stay here and he’s going to bring you back to his apartment in Seoul and you’re going to stay there with him. End of discussion. Yeom, I want you to come back to Seoul with me now. “

Yugyeom looked torn as he stared at me and I bit my lips. Yugyeom was still a kid, still in college. He couldn’t afford to antagonize my father.

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead.” I smiled.

“I’ll send Eun Woo in.... “ My father nodded at me and then sighed. “ contrary to what you think, I don’t want you to hurt. I’m offering you a good life. Marry the fellow and spend your days lounging around in luxury. Thats hardly a punishment now, is it?”

I turned my head away in disgust.

Less than two minutes after he left, I felt a hand on my arm and I jolted.

“Mi Rae ssi.... I’m Eun Woo.”

I glared at the man in front of me, barely looking at him.

“I have no interest in being your wife.”

He looked bored at my outburst.

“I have no interest in indulging your interests. Your father is paying me handsomely to take you off his hands and that's all I’m doing. If you happen to be good at taking my knot, that's just gonna be a pleasurable bonus?” He pressed a thumb to my lips, stroking the skin in an almost gentle caress. .

A knock on the door made him pull away and I glanced up, relief flooding me when I saw it was Jungkook.

“She’s going to have to rest now, Mr. Cha. Her father told me that he’s arranging her transfer to Seoul but that's going to have to wait for tomorrow at least. “ He was staring at the beta with narrowed eyes and Eun Woo bowed lightly.

He shot me one leering glance before walking out casually.

“So...fiancee huh? You’ve been holding out on me...” Jungkook whispered thoughtfully and I flinched.

“Didn’t know he existed till five minutes ago..” I muttered.

“Are you in trouble, Rae?” Jungkook looked worried and I hesitated, before shaking my head.

“I’ll be fine. I can handle him. I just hate the thought of having to leave the preserve... even if its temporary. But I don’t want to annoy my dad right now... He’s... He can be irrational and i don’t want him to take it out on the Preserve and do something harmful to the research program itself , just to be petty.”

It was exactly the kind of thing he would do, too. My shoulder still had a lot of healing to do and it was unlikely that Cha Eun Woo would actually hurt me , at least till i got better. My dad, for all his anger was still rabidly protective of what he considered his. And i was definitely high on that list.

“So you’re going then?”

I caught the hint of disappointment in Jungkook’s tone.

“Aww....is my poor Jungkookie gonna miss me? If I weren’t sporting a broken rib and a messed up shoulder, I’d definitely, at least give you a handjob…” I waggled my eyebrows.

Predictably, his eyes went wide , lips tinged fire engine red in a second.

“Wha- Shut the fuck up, noona” He whined and I laughed.

And then I sobered up when he sat next to me, linking his fingers with mine .

“I’m serious, Jungkook. I’m gonna be just fine. My dad’s upto something. If I stick close, I can at least figure out what he’s planning. I don’t want him to hurt you guys.”

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

“Right little firecracker his daughter is. So fucking pretty and man, those lips. I’d like to take a drink from that....” Cha Eun Woo gripped the shot glass hard, throwing back the whiskey with practiced ease.

Taehyung struggled to keep his features neutral.

“ Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter? From the preserve?” He had meant to sound casual but he sounded like he was being strangled.

Eun Woo hummed.

“ Yeah....Her name is... Mirin....no wait ? Lirae? Mirae? ….. whatever. Poor thing. Apparently she has a tendency to get mauled by wolves too often. She was in bad shape when i saw her. “

Taehyung felt his heart lurch at that. He had wanted nothing more than to sink his jaws into Seo Joon’s throat, when he’d heard what had happened. If it weren’t for his abysmally packed schedule he would have rushed there as soon as he could.

As it was he had talked to a few of his acquaintances who were in prison. Seo Joon was going to go to prison and he wasn’t going to be coming out alive.

“So, she just.,...agreed to marry you then?”

“Not like she had a choice. The old man is going senile. Dude really thinks he stands a chance with his whole Reform Camps proposition. Wants to put weres in concentration camps.... What the fuck, are we in the middle ages..? He also thinks that betas are naturally resentful of Alphas or some shit. Kept feeding me crap about how you alphas want to subjugate the rest of us. Of course the fucker’s feeding into my Hotels and resorts so i just nodded along and agreed to his shit. Next thing I know he’s offering me his daughter in return to me being an ally in his campaign.. Figured I’d agree. See if i could get some inside dirt on him. I know you’ve been trying to bring him down for years, Tae...” Eun Woo gave him a reassuring smile.

Taehyung felt a jolt of pride for the beta. Cha Eun woo had been a close friend of his from childhood and he knew he would never betray their kind. He had worked hard to earn his position as one of the biggest tech moguls in the country and he stayed true to his roots. Taehyung liked Eun Woo.

Admired him even....

But the idea of him touching Mirae.....

His claws nearly popped out at the mere thought of it.

“And well if I get to fuck a nice little human bitch in the process, so be it right Taeh- Fuck!! “ Eun Woo jumped when Taehyung’s claw popped right out, shattering the beer mug in his hand and spraying both of them with the frothy liquid.

“Fuck...” Taehyung groaned and to his utter horror his fangs had dropped as well, his words slurring around the lengthened canines and he felt embarrassment flood his face. . When was the last time he’d popped a fanger in the middle of a fucking conversation....not since he’d been through puberty.

“Uh...you okay, pal?” Eun Woo looked worried now, beta eyes flashing green as he stared at him and Taehyung waved him off.

“Be uh... Be careful with the daughter.” He muttered , trying to sound nonchalant.

Eun Woo just waved him off.

“Whatever , I know the type Tae. Likes a good, feral fuck from a wolf that knows how to give it to her good, you know?. Could smell her all over the alpha doctor who works there... Jungkook was it? Yeah... Girl gets around a lot, i could tell. And you can just tell that she’s going to be so fucking tight when you knot her you know, i mean human bitches always are but those hips just look like they-” Eun Woo stopped, stunned when Taehyung suddenly shoved the table away from him, hard. The older gripped the table and stood up on shaky limbs.

“ I need to get going...” Taehyung fought the urge to shift, his wolf warring inside him, snarling at him to shift and leap across the table and devour the man across from them. To lock his fangs on the beta’s throat and rip his jugular out.

He’s threatening our mate...... He’s talking about what is ours....

The voice in his head was so clear and concise that he nearly blacked out at the very force of it.

Eun Woo was saying something behind him but Taehyung was moving swiftly , stumbling to the bar where Jimin was taking one of the shifts.

“I need to go home...” Taehyung choked out. “ Call....fuck... Call my chauffeur.”

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

“Pre rut symptoms....are you fucking serious...?” Taehyung growled at the doctor taking his vitals. the man, long used to Taehyung’s intimidatingly deep voice, merely hummed. The man had been one of his father’s dearest friends. And one of Taehyung’s most trusted confidantes.

“You’re body believes you mate is around. A mate you haven’t yet claimed. It’s reacting to it.”

Next to him Ji hyun was looking disturbingly excited.

“It’s not you.” Taehyung snapped at the tall woman who recoiled in shock. Taehyung felt momentarily bad but the truth was he had been trying to break up with Ji hyun for a month now. The model was just so shamelessly clingy it was getting to him. and he most certainly did not want her around if he was going into rut.

What he wanted was a luscious, chestnut-haired human with ebony eyes and a scent like heaven.

Fuck... he was burning up and his skin felt like it was stretched thin.

“You need to leave Ji hyun. I want to talk to the doctor alone.” He demanded and the were bowed, moving out of the room quickly. Taehyung turned back to the doctor.

“So what do I do?” He demanded. “ I don’t.... my mate died two years ago. “

The doctor sighed.

“She was not your mate. I told you that already. She tricked you. She was wearing your mate’s scent but it wasn’t hers...” The doctor shook his head.

Taehyung growled.

“I fucking know that..... And I’m gonna fucking bury Yoon Jae hyun into the ground for what he did to me..... But I need to have my senses about me if I want to do that...Him and his entire drug cartel is coming down.....But. That's not gonna happen if i go into fucking rut now.. so close to me taking over office. So tell me how to fix this. “

“Who is the girl?” The doctor said casually.

“What?”

“the girl who smells like your wife. Like your mate. Who is she?”

Taehyung sighed.

“Its Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter.” He muttered.

Dr. Lee’s eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline.

“Oh no... do you think he .... again?”

Taehyung shook his head. He had distanced himself entirely from Mirae just to make sure he wasn’t being pulled into another fucking trap. But so far , from what he learned, the drug did not work on humans. There was no way a human’s scent could be manipulated to fool his wolf.

And that meant that it wasn’t a trap at all.

His wolf really did find a mate in a fucking human of all things.

God, he couldn’t believe the sheer irony of this.

“it doesn’t work on humans. It is her scent. She’s... She’s the one I want.... “ He groaned.

The doctor chuckled.

“ You mean, she’s the one your wolf wants?”

Taehyung frowned.

“Isn’t that what i said?”

“No, you said she’s the one you want and it makes me wonder.....do you perhaps....care for the girl?”

Taehyung shook his head swiftly.

“I barely know her...she...she used to look after Luna. “ He finished.

“Luna...? Interesting. “ The man’s words carried a hint of amusement and Taehyung felt his hackles rise.

“ What does that tone mean?”

“I’m just saying.... You don’t let people watch Luna that easily. You’re fiercely protective of your daughter. If you let this girl watch her, you must trust her at least.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I.. of course i trust her …. she’s a good girl. A good....person...”

“ I would suggest spending your rut with her. Claiming her if she’s interested. With you being you, I doubt she’s going to refuse.” The older man’s eyes fairly twinkled,

“I’m not knotting her when I’m on my fucking rut …” He snapped. “ I’ll likely break her in two. “

The doctor chuckled.

“It wouldn’t be a very pleasant experience for her, yes. But ….there's no reason why you can’t make it enjoyable for her. “ His tone turned gentle and more serious. “ Listen to me Taehyung-ah...… There is a reason wolves mate for life. We are not meant to be alone. If your wolf has found a mate, he’s not going to let you function till you claim her. That's just the way our body’s are built. You need to talk to her. Make some sort of arrangement. You have three weeks at the most before your rut hits and trust me you don’t want to be alone when that happens. “

Taehyung felt his insides churn at the prospect.

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

“No fucking shit.... You couldn’t have just told me that instead of letting me mouth off about her like that ? “ Eun Woo groaned , watching Taehyung with guilty eyes.

Taehyung brushed him off.

“It’s fine. I just.... can you just...keep her at your place till she gets better. I’m ...not in a good headspace right now and i don’t want to hurt her. she needs to recover.”

Eun Woo nodded.

“The doctor says three weeks and she’ll be fine. I’m a bit busy myself so I’ll just arrange for her brother to pick her up. Her dad’s busy meeting some suppliers. I sent the details to your men.... Did they get it?”

Taehyung nodded.

“The guy’s a bigger idiot than i thought. He’s actually met a few of these dealers himself. We just need one of them to ID him and he’s going to get locked up for life.”

Eun Woo nodded.

“Everything by the book, Tae. We stick to the laws....no bloodshed without cause and no one gets hurt. He likes to hide behind the fucking law when he’s trying to destroy our entire species , we’re gonna use that same ;law to rail him to the ground .”

Taehyung grinned.

“ Not just on the ground, Eun Woo. I’m gonna be putting him six feet under.”

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

The recovery from my shoulder was surprisingly easy compared to the bruise on my ribs. Movement was difficult and it definitely hurt but my pain threshold had definitely gone up. It helped that Cha Eun Woo had stayed away from me and Yugyeom was on a three week break . We crashed out at his apartment and It was like being a kid again.

We spent the days lounging by the indoor pool or playing video games. Yugyeom was a great cook and he liked cooking.

Two and a half weeks after I had moved in, I was finally out of the sling. The physiotherapist visited me at the apartment and after making me move my hands well, she gave the go ahead to start my normal routine ahead.

“I still want you to take it easy. Your ribs are healed and so is your shoulder but no roughhousing.... I’m only saying that because i know how it is i when siblings live together.” She smiled and I laughed, nodding.

“I’ll make sure she’s resting well, noona.” Yugyeom said seriously.

I closed the door as the doctor left, smiling as I watched Yugyeom trip over my sling on the couch, when the doorbell rang again.

Surprised , I turned back tot he door.

“ Did you forget something, Unnie-?” I froze in shock.

Kim Taehyung stood leaning against the wall, looking like he had run all the way from his home across the city.

“Taehyung-ssi?” I stammered out, taking in the untucked shirt, sweat drenched hair and flashing red eyes .

“I’m.... I fucked up.” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut. It took me a second to realize that he was falling and instinct made throw myself under him, holding my hands out to catch him.

Pain shot straight up my shoulder as it took the entire brunt of his weight. The pain only lasted a second though, because Yugyeom was shoving me out of the way and grabbing the taller alpha by the waist.

“Holy shit....is this Kim Taehyung?” He looked awestruck as he stared at him and I felt my heart race. Taehyung seemed conscious but his breathing was raspy.

I pressed my palm against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open .

“I’m... I need you.” Taehyung growled right at me.

Yugyeom froze next to me and I felt my throat go dry.

“I... sorry?” I squeaked out.

“You...need you....under me... fuck...”

“What the fuck, Rae?” Yugyeom hissed , face turning red as he tried to maneuver the alpha werewolf to the couch .

I stayed frozen, having no idea what the fuck was going on.

Taehyung scrambled to a sitting position on the couch, gripping the cusions and he was paniting, his eyes wild as he stared right at me.

“Mine.” His voice was ten times deeper than usual, fairly vibrating with power and Yugyeom went completely still. He was shaking as he reached for me, the terror evident in his face.

“Oh, shit... Rae...is he....? Fuck , is he -” My little brother sounded terrified and I pulled him behind me.

Taehyung’s eyes flashed red again and then they shifted to my brother. His gaze narrowed and his mouth opened.

There was a split second when I knew exactly what was going to happen and I whirled around , grabbing Yugyeom and shoving him straight into the hallway leading to the front door.

“ YUGGIE, RUN!!!” I screamed with all my might, and behind me Taehyung let out a vicious growl, pouncing across the room at my brother. Yugyeom managed to avoid him by a hairsbreadth and instinct made him move faster to the door but he stopped near the door looking terrified but torn.

“ Rae...come with me,...come...”

I stared at the alpha on the floor, my heart racing.

Taehyung was clearly fighting against the wolf in him, trying to stay down, on his knees, fingers gripping the carpet to ground himself but the little growls that he let out told me that it was a fight he wasn’t winning. He looked up at me and there was so much pain and contrition in his gaze that I felt my heart break.

“I’m...sorry...” Taehyung gasped out eyes fluttering shut. He was panting harder now, fingers clenched into fists around the carpet and voice ragged. i looked up at my baby brother and he looked so young and scared that I couldn’t stand it.

“Its okay.... just go... I’ll be fine...he won’t hurt me... Just go...” I whispered desperately and Yugyeom shook his head.

“No... No... you’ve got to come with me... Rae...Noona....”

He never called me noona. I realized just how scared he was and tried to comfort him, but wary of going near him, lest Taehyung attack him again.

“Yugyeom listen to me carefully. He’s on his rut. He’s not gonna hurt me, he just thinks I’m his mate. If you stay here he’s going to see you as a threat, so you need to leave..If I come with you he will hunt us down....I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. You just need to go.”

Yugyeom nodded, moving to the door and I turned back, feeling my stomach clench when Taehyung’s claws came out, tearing through our rug with ease.

I heard the door shut behind me and I stayed perfectly still.

Taehyung was still trembling and he finally looked up at me. Now that we were alone he was distinctly calmer.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He rasped out.

I nodded.

“So why did you?” I asked, staring at him as he stumbled to his feet.

“You smell ....fuck you just smell like. ....like...”

“Like your wife, yes.” I muttered . “ So you want me to be stand in for your wife tonight?”

Taehyung’s eyes shot up to stare at me.

“My wife .... she worked for your father.” He choked out.

I straed at him, the blood running cold in my veins.

“What?”

“Your father hired her.... to get rid of me. She... used a drug . A drug that confuses a wolf’s senses. Makes the wolf think he’s found his mate. Wolves cannot hurt or live without their mates. Its important to us. She...She got pregnant on the night we mated and by the time I found out she was already carrying Luna and there was nothing I could do....I couldn’t...it wasn’t even a fucking bond.... I couldn’t sense her...couldn’t feel her...couldn’t muster any kind of affection for her but ... but she was carrying my baby and I just couldn’t bring myself to send her away......”

“Taehyung...” I whispered, remembering how Luna had talked about her father not liking her mother.

“Its not natural for a wolf my age to be without a mate. But ....that scent ....I... I never picked up on it with anyone else till I... “ He sighed.

“Till you met me.”

“Till I met you.”

I stared at the floor.

“I’m not.... I’m not actually in rut yet. It’s still a day or so away. i didn’t want to come here but.... I’m supposed to be taking over the office in three days. When I do, I can finally use my position to bring your father down. He is using his drug dealers and suppliers to mess with our biology and its ...something sacred to us. Wolves mate for life and to make a wolf doubt his ability to choose his mate is the worst kind of sacrilege.....”

“What do you want me to do?”

He stared at me....

“If I go into rut and I don’t have.... my mate ...it’s going to fuck me up. I don’t wanna go into the gory details but I most certainly will not be able to take over the office. ” He laughed without mirth.

There was nothing else to be said , was there?

“You have no right..... asking me to do this.....” I whispered , angry .

“I know.... I know and if you say no, I will walk out this door and you will never see me again.”

I laughed.

“I think you came here because you knew. “

He didn’t respond.

“You fucking knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to you. “

His gaze was steady as he stared at me.

“I’ll take care of you.... I won’t...this isn’t a one night stand or a no strings attached thing, Rae..... You will be mine. I’ll be yours. “

“And yet, your eyes tell me that there is nothing you hate more, than standing here asking me to be your mate......” I said bitterly.

He didn’t deny it.

“Will you come with me , then?”

I stared at his handsome face , the surreal beauty of it. And I thought of my father and how he wanted only to destroy anything that he didn’t understand. If Taehyung was going to bring my father down , I wasn’t going to be the thing that stopped him from doing it.

“Let me get my clothes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE : IT WAS EASIER GIVING BIRTH THAN WRITING THIS FIC

just kidding i love werewolf tae. Please let me know what you thought uwu

#taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung smut #bts fics.bts smut #bts au #bts werewolf #taehyung werewolf au #bts fics #bts smut

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