#I have a $200 tablet sitting around that’s not going to get used again

[echoes-world]

at my worst (2)

Kusuo doesn’t see you again for two months. Not that he was counting that on purpose, he was counting the days since he last saw Kusuke. Life goes on, you weren’t important and he didn’t care if you were dating his brother. Sure, that was stupid as Kusuke is an asshole but apparently girls like that kind of guy.

Or so he thinks, as he is stuck listening to everybody’s thoughts yearning for boys in his school that were plain morons. How did someone like Kaido have a girl pining over him? He was an eighth grader in the body of a high schooler. Or Kusuo himself. He could be a jerk sometimes yet he has an entire harem chasing after his love. Which was only reserved for coffee jelly, mind you.

So when he enters the 200 mile radius of PK Academy, he is irked to find that there will be a new transfer student. Boys are hoping it's a cute girl, and the girls are hoping they can be friends. Kusuo rubs his temple, feeling a migraine snake its way through his head. Hasn’t this school had enough freaky transfer students?

The loud chatter and thoughts don’t get any better as he sits down at his designated desk. Would it kill these people to stay quiet for a second? At least the transfer student was in another class, Kusuo found through others. He hoped that would make his class shut up. Alas, they were intent on making him suffer. Unknowingly, but still.

By the time lunch comes around, he runs out full speed to a hiding spot before any of his so-called friends yank him into an ‘adventure’. He finds himself on the secluded rooftop. Even if there weren’t many people there, because of his 200-mile-radius telepathy, the loudness was still the same. He clenched his jaw and rubbed his temple again. Maybe if he turned invisible he could nap without worries. No, if anyone happened to trip over him, it would be game over. He finds himself in his head trying to dull out the aches and loud voices- that he jumps when he hears your soft voice pull him out.

His eyes dart out to in front of him- and there you are. You have the PK Academy uniform on, and your bangs were trimmed so that he could now see your face. He felt his breathing hitch as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful, almost as beautiful as Teruhashi. No- he was lying to himself. You were a goddess. The sun highlighted your angel like features, a light glow surrounding you. It wasn’t obnoxious like Teruhashi though- no, it suited you.

You didn’t deserve to have a concerned look on your face- wait- why did you look worried?

    “You look like you’re in pain, Saiki-san. Would you like some ibuprofen?” You ask in a quiet voice- not wanting to make his pain worsen.

Unfortunately, medicine doesn’t work on Kusuo. You didn’t need to know that though. He nodded, and watched as you opened your school bag and dug through to find the painkillers. Was he worthy of receiving painkillers from a goddess? Was he delirious?

    “Here you go- oh, and here's some water!” You hand him the items. He freezes as your skin makes short contact and he’s pretty sure his brain short circuits.

He clears his throat and swallows the tablets along with the water.

    ‘Thanks, ’ he nods.

    “It’s no problem!” You smile- still keeping your voice lowered. “I’m glad I was of use! Is it ok if I sit with you? I-I feel a bit uncomfortable being the center of attention…”

Saiki freezes again. Hold on, were you the transfer student everyone was talking about? He had never seen you before in his school- and suddenly you’re here the day the transfer student was supposed to start.

    “It’s my first day,” You nervously said, noticing the conflicted look on the pink haired boy’s face. “The students here are… quite the handful.” (you were being too kind, they were plain clingy.)

Kusuo only shrugs. You give him a thankful smile and sit yourself next to him, looking over the city. You don’t say anything else, which Kusuo guesses was nice. After all, he could still hear the thoughts and voices from inside the building. After 3 minutes of silence, Kusuo couldn’t help but wonder if you found it awkward to sit without saying anything. He peers into your mind, having to tune out all of the other thoughts in order to see into your quiet thoughts.

    ‘ It’s so nice out today, no wonder Saiki-san came out here to relieve his pain, ’ you think, smiling at the sun and clouds.

That was it? He was sure you were going to be cursing his quietness, or looking for a way to leave because of it being awkward and you wanting to bask in the attention the rest of the school was giving you. He paused as he noticed the thoughts of the rest of the school body were now muffled. Like distinct background noise. He wondered if he could eventually tune everything out if he solely focused on your inner mind. He closed his eyes and he almost smiled at the glimpse of a ‘ it’s too bad lunch is almost over… hopefully Saiki-san feels better!’

It was peaceful, Kusuo found. Your thoughts were simple, and pleasant. He found his stress of being a psychic melting away at the peace he felt. The mostly silent cave that was your mind was something he found he needed after years of not having any peace unless he had his ring on. Which even then, he found weird because at least you had ordinary thoughts come about once in a while.

Unfortunately, his blissful state was interrupted when the bell rang. You stood up, holding a hand out to Kusuo. “Thank you for letting me sit here! It’s so nice out,” you give him a sincere smile as he hesitantly takes your hand and lets you help him up. “I hope your headache is better, Saiki-san,” you bow as you head towards the door that would lead you back into the building.

His brain short circuits again. Wait. How did you know he had a headache again?

#tdlosk #saiki kusuo #saiki x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuke #saiki kusuke x reader #reader insert #xreader #anime #anime x reader

[monsterhugger]

thought of never being able to do digital art again is making me want to cry actually

#lbr I’m not going to be able to afford ps once I move out #CSP was the only thing that worked for me #I have a $200 tablet sitting around that’s not going to get used again #I can’t afford new hardware so like. an iPad is out of the question for me as well #sai and krita exist but they’re just.... so bad. i can’t do lighting or anything with them everything is going to look like shit #like I made so much progress doing digital art last summer I really got good at using tools and making stuff actually look decent #and now its just gone #fuck clip studio #actually fuck them if you’re going to exploit your customers at least give them a working product in return

[nxrthmizu]

Crash and Burn

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | salt, lila salt

pairing | n/a

w.c | 3.2k

author's note | hey remember that lila salt fic i promised? this isn't it but this is something i made today so yep. please accept this as an apology for yknow. me promising to write and. not doing it.

Enough was enough.

“Marinette, stop accusing Lila! She just wants to make friends!”

“Take the high road.”

“Be a good model student, Marinette.”

Enough. Was. Enough.

Marinette had the connections, the power, the choice to make Lila’s entire world crumble apart. The only thing that stood between the liar’s demise was the tiniest pinch of morality and self-restraint— And no, that self-restraint did not come in the form of Tikki. Even the kwami, who had to be an aggregation of all the good and nice things in the world, was fed up and ready to retaliate.

“What a joke.” Lila cackled, tossing a chunk of her sausage hair over her shoulder flamboyantly. The two girls were in the bathroom, with Lila smirking in front of the sink and Marinette a little distance away from her. “You can make my world crumble? What is this, a threat?”

“A promise.” Marinette corrected. “Stop telling lies. Come clean to every one. No more lying about knowing celebrities left and right, no more making excuses about not being able to take your own notes, no more making up ‘diseases’ just so your life gets a little more convenient. To be frank, I really don’t care what happens to you— But by making these empty promises to introduce my classmates to great ‘celebrities’, you’re ruining their futures. Stop.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Lila sneered, face twisted into an ugly grin. “You going to cry in front of the class? Try and convince them that I, the one they adore— That I am lying?”

“No.” Marinette’s eyes were clear when she met Lila’s. The clouds of self-doubt that used to hover over the bright, shining star inside her soul had now dissipated, letting the bluenette emit a confident, glowing appearance as she met the liar head on. “I’m just going to keep my promise.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila headed off to a modelling shoot after school, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with Adrien. There were a couple tendrils of Marinette’s words hanging behind in her mind— Did the girl mean what she said? Did she actually… Was she actually capable of causing Lila’s downfall? … Surely not. Marinette may have once been the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, but there was no way she was that competent, there was no way the girl was capable of plotting.

The Italian hummed, brushing away thoughts of the annoying bluenette from her mind. She was going on a photoshoot— One that was going cause the rise and burst of her career, the one that was going to make her name a globally-known one. Unfortunately for Lila, her plans were going to be derailed quite soon— In fact, as soon as Gabriel Agreste’s car rolled into the parking lot of the shoot location.

“Explain this, Mlle. Rossi.” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he pointed to the tabloid article on his tablet. The Italian girl froze, the headlines seared into her eyes, big and black and bold, shooting poison right into the core of her body, paralysing her cell by cell starting from her heart. “What is the meaning of this?”

‘Adrien Agreste Reported To Be Harassed by Fellow Model’— The image under the caption was one that was clearly taken by a hidden photographer. The picture was framed with leafy foliage, which suggested that the camera was tucked up in a tree. Despite the distance, it was quite obvious in the image that Adrien was reeling away, disgusted and uncomfortable as a faceless woman in an orange blazer, back turned to the camera— Invaded his personal space.

The subtitle was the cream on the cupcake.

‘Witnesses State Gabriel Agreste Ignorant of Workplace Harassment’.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

As if things couldn’t quite go down a worser path, Lila returned home to a fuming mother and an unexpected visitor.

“Lila! You come here right this instant!” The diplomat demanded as soon as the front door opened, her daughter shrinking slightly at the tone and pitch that her mother was using. The last time her mother had been this angry— Well, it was when she got expelled from her last school. “I can’t believe what you’ve done! If it weren’t for your kind classmate, lord knows how long you would’ve continued with this!”

The Italian meekly followed her mother into the living room, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers, mouth agape at the last person she expected to see sitting on the couch.

Marinette smiled kindly, waving at the girl, looking every bit the part of the innocent, pure, kind child that every parent wanted to have. Before Lila could release a torrent of questions about what the hell Marinette Dupain-Cheng was doing in her living room, her mother charged on, beginning to take out her anger on her daughter while a literal angel sat on the sofa, cradling a box of pastries from her family’s bakery.

“Your friend here tells me that you’ve been taking absences from school to go on trips to help humanity!” Mme. Rossi exploded, waving her arms around madly. “She says she’s here to share her notes from the classes you’ve missed! You’ve never left Paris this year! What’s this I hear about flying off to the kingdom of— What was it called again, Marinette dear?”

“Achu.” Provided the bluenette helpfully, the diplomat’s expression instantly softening when she talked to the other teen in the living room.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, dear.” The woman turned back to her daughter, instantly snapping on a mask of anger in a matter of a fraction of a second. “What’s this about flying off to this kingdom of Achu to help homeless orphans with some random prince?”

“Um…” Lila piped up, wriggling as her brain churned at 200 lies per hour, trying to whip up a cover of some sort.

“I’m not done! Your friend here is such a helpful child that she even went as far as to ask her family doctor is there’s a cure for your… Lying disease!” Mme. Rossi practically roared, breathing flames as if she were an intimidating dragon, her daughter flinching away from the heat. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous! And then there’s the fact that you lied to your classmates about having tinnitus?!”

“I actually do have tinnitus!” Lila cut in forcibly, widening her eyes to make herself look more pitiful. “I was just afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Bullshit!”

“Um… Sorry to interrupt, Mme. Rossi,” Marinette piped up, the diplomat instantly cooling down as she faced the bluenette, a soft smile tracing the Italian woman’s lips. “But it’s getting rather late and my parents would love me home soon. I also have some tests to revise for tonight, so I think I should get going.”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Mme. Rossi hastily got up to help the bluenette to the door, shooting a warning glare at her daughter— ‘Sit still and don’t you dare go anywhere’, the glare read. “Feel free to come over again anytime you want, dear. I’m not home often, but you are such a sweet child. I’m sure Lila could learn a lot from you.”

“Thanks for having me as well, Mme. Rossi. I really like your home. I left the pastries on the counter— Make sure to warm the curry puffs before you eat them.” Marinette returned the smile, bowing slightly to the older woman as a sign of respect.

“Thank you for the pastries as well, Marinette. I ought to visit your parents’ bakery sometime when I’m free.” Mme. Rossi opened the door kindly for the bluenette, waving the girl off with an affectionate smile. Her parents must be so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like her, Mme. Rossi sighed internally, turning the key so she locked the door. And she seems to be a high-scoring student as well.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila seethed, having been grounded by her mother. As far as Mme. Rossi was concerned, there was a boarding school not too far away from their current residence, and by the next week, the Italian girl would be transferred over. Lila had never hated Dupain-Cheng as much as she did in that moment.

Still furious, the Italian snapped her laptop open, too angry to bother with the fact she might’ve scratched the surface. Clicking into the web browser, she started to type in the words ‘Ladyblog’— That was, before a news article caught her eye.

‘Jagged Stone Interview Reveals Underage, Obsessed Fan’.

What on Earth…

As soon as Lila clicked into the link, the news footage from the interview immediately begin to play. The date stamp on it showed that it had aired last night— Which meant that she would’ve missed it, since her mother was too busy yelling at her to turn on the television to watch Nadja Chamack’s daily news.

“As soon as I heard this rumour about some underage teenage girl claiming that she had saved my cat on an airport runway, I called Penny and asked her to book a slot for me to clarify this,” Jagged Stone said grimly, dressed in more formal attire as he sat in the comfortable, cushioned chair of the news station, with Nadja nodding equally seriously beside him. “Let me clarify— I’ve never owned a cat. I’m allergic to fur. The only pet I’ve had was Fang, and he’s an al-li-ga-tor. Not a cat. Whatever the girl is claiming, she’s obsessed and making up stories.”

“It’s also kind of bewildering that she saved it on an airport runway,” Nadja continued, shaking her head in disappointment. “That kind of thing only happens in dramas— It’s too dangerous for anyone besides authorised workers to be on airport runways.”

“Right, right!” Jagged agreed instantly. “The whole rumour is just really baffling.”

“M. Jagged, may I ask what kind of effect these rumours have on a celebrities’ career?” Nadja continued, leading the conversation on like a professional.

“Well, rumours that circulate around tend to have really bad effects, and the worse ones can hang around for a long, long time. Tabloids are often spun off from rumours, baseless and with no evidence. Those tabloids will never truly disappear, so they can leave a mark on a celebrity’s reputation as some people will believe anything— Even things they read from un-cited tabloids.”

“That is simply terrible. Have you ever had any cases of rumours created by underaged teens before this?”

“I’ve had quite a number, but none of them really got as big as this one. From what Penny has found from digging around, the teen girl managed to spread the rumour through her school and onto a once-popular blog.” Jagged explained. “Penny has also found out that the same girl has claimed that I’ve written songs for her to thank her for saving my cat! I would never write songs and dedicate them to an underaged girl— Trust me. If I could do such a thing, I’d already have written a dozen in honour of my niece— She’s my favourite designer.”

Nadja smiled at that sentence. “Then—“

The news footage cut off abruptly as Lila slammed her laptop shut, too upset to continue watching.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

On the other side of Paris, Alya was pacing around her room frantically, wondering why on earth Lila wasn’t picking up on her calls. She’d left at least four dozen messages to the Italian, who was absent from school that day. There had been a couple whispers here and there about why she was missing— Rose had suggested another impromptu trip to Achu.

Lila’s absence wasn’t the weirdest part of the day, however.

That award would go to Marinette, who walked into class with a smile, the slightest sprinkles of delight colouring her bluebell eyes when she spotted Lila’s empty seat.

Growing in frustration, Alya threw herself onto her bed, phone clattering onto the mattress with her. Within the next few minutes, however, her phone suddenly started exploding with notifications. Excited at the prospect of Lila finally texting back, Alya turned on her phone, only to be disappointed by the notifications all clamouring from the class group chat.

Kim had sent a link to the chat— Without hesitation, Alya clicked into it, frowning when she saw Nadja and Jagged appear on the screen. Throughout the interview, the colour on the Ladyblogger’s face only paled by the second until she was as white as a sheet, and if it were halloween at that time, she would’ve won the best costume award for being a ghost.

There must… There must’ve been a mistake.

A notification from Lila’s number made the blogger perk up, instantly clicking into the conversation— But her newfound hope didn’t last very long.

[Lila]

Hi, Alya. This is Lila’s mom. She’s currently grounded right now. Is there anything important you need to tell her?

[Alya]

Oh, nothing much… I just wanted to ask where she was.

[Lila]

She’s at home.

[Alya]

Okay, thanks.

Flopping onto her bed, Alya begin thinking, revising over the past few months like it was an old clip. Lila’s exciting adventures and interactions with celebrities of every kind— Lila going overseas and face timing the entire class— Lila letting her in on the secrets of being Ladybug’s friend…

… Marinette trying to tell them that Lila was lying…

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The class was awfully silent the next day. Adrien was absent as well— A social worker was looking into his home life as a result of the tabloid that arose. Things for the blonde could either get better or worse from then on, as the matters were still foggy and things hadn’t cleared up yet. The blonde maintained contact with his friends, however, calling and texting them whenever he could.

“Class, settle down.” Mlle. Bustier stepped into the class, looking very tense and uncomfortable. “Today, we will have a guest, so please be on your best behaviours, alright?”

Just as the teacher finished speaking, a tall, regal-looking Italian woman entered the classroom, a cowering principal and a meek-looking Lila in tow. The class brightened slightly at the sight of their friend— But by the way she wasn’t looking into their eyes… Things weren’t going to be good.

“Good morning. I am Mme. Rossi, Lila’s mother.” The woman begin speaking, her firm and no-nonsense tone instantly making every student sit straight, their eyes too afraid to look anywhere else but the Italian diplomat. “It has come to my attention that my daughter has been taking absences from school to do charity work— And I have to clarify that this is a lie. Lila has been doing nothing but holing herself up in her room, lying to me and saying that there are no classes due to akumas.” The Italian diplomat glowered at Damocles. “What’s even more baffling is the fact that neither her homeroom nor the principal bothered to check up with me despite a student having extended periods of absence with no note or email written whatsoever.”

The class was so quiet that they could hear the quiver of Mlle. Bustier’s trembling lip.

“In addition, I’ve been kindly told that Lila has claimed to have a lying disease, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this week.” It was impossible to miss the way the Italian diplomat was glaring daggers at both Mlle. Bustier and Damocles. “No one bothered to look it up online to see if it’s actual disorder, nor did anyone call me to confirm and ask for a doctor’s note, which is standard procedure.” Chills burst over the room, making every one shiver as the woman hissed out her words.

“Mme. Rossi, we didn’t want to disturb your busy schedule—” Damocles begin, only to be blown backwards from the sheer intensity of Mme. Rossi’s glower.

“M. Damocles, standard procedures exist for a reason. Unless you’d like to tell me about any other things you’ve been letting my daughter get away with?”

“N— No, Mme.”

The Italian diplomat continued on her war path. “My daughter also claimed to have tinnitus, am I correct?”

“Y— Yes, Mme.” Mlle. Bustier answered when it seemed like no one was going to.

“And I heard that the class seating arrangement was shifted to accommodate for that?” The homeroom teacher didn’t dare answer this time, for it seemed like whatever she said would be the incorrect answer. “And apparently, my daughter has also been faking broken wrists and requesting for her classmates to complete her work for her.” Mme. Rossi was practically breathing flames at that point, “And I am incredibly upset at the lack of action from the homeroom teacher.”

No one could breath.

“I have many concerns about the running of this schooling facility, and I expect to discuss this with M. Damocles privately after this. However, there is still something to be done.” Mme. Rossi swept her gaze towards her daughter, who found the floor incredibly interesting at that point of time. “Lila? Something you’d like to say to your classmates?”

“… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Lila mumbled resentfully.

“Louder, Lila. No one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” Lila swallowed, bursting like an explosion that had finally been triggered, tears in her eyes and fists hatefully curled. “I’m sorry for lying about my diseases and injuries. I’m sorry for making you do my work,” She spat. “Sorry for causing any inconveniences.”

Mme. Rossi raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Is that all?”

Lila glared at her mother, who was completely unfazed. “Oh, so you want an apology from me? Fine!” She turned to the class, a maniacal glint in her eyes as she sneered at the class, a few gasps puffing from around the room as they caught their first glimpse of the liar that resided in the ‘harmless’ shell of Lila Rossi. “I’m sorry that you are all such idiots that you all fell for everything. I’m sorry that Marinette has such terrible, untrusting classmates that turned their backs on her even though she was still a goody-two shoes till the end, even though she still wanted to help you sorry peasants. I’m sorry that you were all so goddamn gullible! There! Good enough for you?”

Shock was etched into the faces of every human in the classroom— Including Mlle. Bustier, M. Damocles, and Mme. Rossi themselves. Clearly, that part of the apology had not been part of the plan.

“Did I miss something?” Said a sweet voice, followed by the presence of a bluenette, her hair tied in a half-up. A royal blue blazer decorated her lithe form, accompanied by a smart-looking white blouse and a black plaited skirt. Formal had never looked so good on anyone— And if someone didn't know better, they'd think that the bluenette was a young lawyer, emerging victorious from her first successful case.

“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that you’re such an annoying, little, pest.” Lila bit in the girl’s face, disdain colouring her features as she ignored her mother’s enraged gasp behind her.

The bluenette simply smiled, unaffected by the liar who had crashed and burned like the liar once wished upon her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood at her full height, the perfect image of grace and poise as she maintained her composure, quite unlike her nemesis, who thrashed under her mother’s restraining hands.

“And I’m sorry that you didn’t take my promise to heart.”

this can count as adrien redemption depending on you cause ehhh i dont like how passive he is but i havent caught up with the recent episodes, he might have become better. idk.

also where the hell is my miraculous taglist i cant find it so eep. no tagging ppl ig oops

#miraculous ladybug #the tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #lila rossi #lila salt #rossi salt #ml class #ml salt #ml class salt #marinette deserves better #badass marinette #lila rossi lies #lila's lies are exposed #adrien agrete #alya cesaire #cady writesss «

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reaader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic

[page-doctor-bekker]

Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

-

-

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

-

-

(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

#chicago med #one shot #chicago med one shot #sarah reese #writing #also my favorite sarah headcanon is that she still has to hum or sing stayin alive to do cpr #she has no natural rhythm without a guide lol #thats okay #transfemme!sarah #my au #angst #mild angst #dr charles #dr charles comforting sarah reese #dr charles is a good father figure #crockettstiddies

[dasphinxone]

“Now all I can think of is Booker helping Nile dress...”

Thanks and huge shoutout to @wolfshavenokings​ for this brilliant Book of Nile idea of Booker lacing Nile into a corset for a mission. Of how he probably loved doing it for his wife back before his first death. Because he’s an Acts of Service, Sad Frenchman of a dude who loves the beauty of women’s fashion and helping his beloved get ready for her day. The sheer intimacy of it, y’all…I CAN’T.

Nile doesn’t mind dresses in the slightest. In her old life before the immortality hit, she’d wear a lot of them whenever she was on leave from the Marines. It was a great way to psychologically differentiate her time off during enlistment. So it’s not the fancy dress she has to wear for the Victorian-era themed costume party she needs to infiltrate for a mission that’s the problem.

It’s the corset.

In all of her nearly 200 years of existence, Nile has never had to wear one. Actually, scratch that; technically, she’s worn lingerie bustiers when she wants to get fancy during her and Booker’s sexy fun times. But to be honest, he usually strips her of out of it pretty damn quick in the midst of them getting down and dirty. The prospect of wearing a corset for hours on end underneath a late Victorian era dress that weighs a hell of a lot? That’s where the problem lies.

She vaguely remembers how Elizabeth Swann from those pirate movies of her childhood constantly complained about them. She’s watched how the actresses in those historical costume dramas stand ramrod straight in every scene they’re in. How they always complain about the restrictive movement during their 12+ hours of shooting days in the behind-the-scenes extras.

“That’s because no one knows how to properly lace  someone into one anymore,” Booker mutters when Nile complains about the prospect of wearing one. She’s flopped down on the couch next to him in their safehouse in Turin. It’s been only a few minutes since she’s gotten off the holo-call briefing on the mission with Copley the Seventh. “I’ll let you know when I need you on that one,” Nile lets out a huffed chuckle.  She presses a quick kiss to him where he’s sitting slouched and thumbing through his holo-tablet “That’s not exactly a skill set anyone’s used for the last three centuries or so, you know.”

“You’re right,” he shrugs. “It takes a mindful hand a lot of men don’t bother to hone anymore. The lack of patience is a pity all around.”

Nile nods in agreement, though she doesn’t quite know why. Booker’s always been a deliberate sort. She assumed it was just a facet of his personality versus based on any historical undertaking. She distantly files away his words before she turns on the holo-TV and focuses on the latest comedy sketch show that happens to be on.

A few weeks later, Nile’s standing in front of the mirror of their shared bedroom getting ready for this costume party of a mission. 

It turns out that Booker is very good with his hands in this specific scenario. More than she thought possible.  While his tugs at the lacings of her custom made, boned corset are firm and assured, he’s gentle with her. Every so often, he lightly places a big, warm hand in between her shoulders to readjust her in order to stand up little straighter. The way he then presses his mouth to the back of her neck, the top of shoulder or along her outer arm comes off as a reward for her patience. 

Nile’s eyes flutter closed at his touch. Her gasping inhale at the feel of his scruff against her skin causes him to smile against her every time. 

“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she sighs with quiet surprise. 

Booker lightly trails the pads his thumbs along her back before he pulls in the lacings a bit more. “It’s muscle memory for the most part,” he softly replies. 

Nile doesn’t say anything, recognizing that far off tone of voice he gets whenever an old memory is stirred up. Nowadays, it doesn’t sound nearly as despondent as it used to be when she first met him. Certainly nothing like his haunted confession of how he lost his family to time during their first heart-to-heart in the cave after Joe and Nicky were kidnapped by Merrick’s men. 

He instead sounds factual and focused as he hums, “I would do this for Eugénie every morning whenever I was home.” 

It’s like he knows Nile is going to let out a worried gasp at the mention of his wife as he pauses to slide a hand  up and down her arm. At the same time, she reaches back to take it, running her thumb along his knuckles.

This is why he loves her, why he’s so devoted. For she’s never treated any mention of his wife and children as something to be kept to himself. Quite the opposite, for she refuses to allow him to suppress his memories. It turns out that having that outlet grants him the ability to also relish the good recollections he has of them. As the decades march on, he’s remembering more and more of them rather than refusing to have his mind to pull them up. It goes a long way towards how he copes with it all. 

Even though he’s paused in lacing her in, Nile never lets go of his hand. “I thought servants would dress the lady of the house back then?” she casually asks.

That he’s able to chuckle at her reply is a good sign. “Oh, chérie,” he drops his nose into her shoulder for a moment. It allows his gaze to capture hers in the mirror in front her. Nile’s lips are slightly parted, her chest slowly rising and falling where it’s so beautifully framed within the elaborate bodice. “You think we were anywhere near rich enough to have a lady’s maid, hmm?” 

Nile grins, “I guess not.” 

“Nevertheless, even if we were afforded such a luxury,” Booker’s eyes return their rapt attention to her back as he sets his hands on the lacings again. He threads them through another couple of rows of the reinforced holes before he flattens them with a brush of his fingers down her spine. Nile’s breathy exhalation at the contact causes a flush to creep up his cheeks. “I would have insisted on helping her prepare for the day. If only to see a woman in such a lovely state.” 

The low rumble of his voice sends a warm shiver through Nile. It’s helped along by how he dips his head and grants her a lingering kiss between her shoulder blades. 

Huh. Well all of this certainly explains how he’s able to unlace her out of those lingerie bustiers so damn fast…

@wolfshavenokings​ @love-dont-roam​

#book of nile #booker x nile #nile freeman #booker #booker le livre #sebastien le livre #the old guard #tog #drabble #fanfic #fanfiction #the intimacy #of dressing one's beloved #Booker LOVES women's fashion #I mean he's the one who packed clothes for Nile #Including picking out that snazzy green bomber jacket #I might turn this into a longer thing #we'll see

[affectingmementally]

hey i’ve been so inactive but i’m back now.

May. A new month and, as i’m sure all of you understand, an opportunity to look at where you went wrong last month and start fresh.

so i’ve started something new. some new rules to kind of relax how obsessive i am about calories but still stay in a deficit low enough to be losing weight. i’ve set myself a deficit of 1,200 on mfp, however i will only allow myself to actually reach that at the weekends or special days like birthdays, holidays etc. otherwise, i’m going to do my best to stay at around 1,000 but if not i’ll allow myself 1,100. the only reason i’m more comfortable with having the extra 200 on weekends is because one day i work for 4 hours and i don’t get to sit down at any point, i’m constantly walking around, lifting things, cleaning and if i leave early enough i can walk the long way rather than the short way to get there. during that time those extra 200 cals would have easily been burnt off. the other day i do water sports so again, the calories get burnt.

another thing that i’m doing differently this month, i’ve decided not to track vegetables. this is mainly because my parents are picking up on how much i was weighing stuff and things like lettuce, cucumber, broccoli will never be over 20 cals so i’ve decided not to count them. however i do want to count fruit because the sugar content usually makes them higher in calories.

secondly, to manage my IBS i need to cut down on coffee. so i’m going to try to only have 4 per week and no more than one a day.

third, i’m going to start writing down my total calorie intake for each day on the calendar on my wall. this way i can have a reminder of how much i should be eating and i can calculate my weekly average.

fourth, vitamins. i’ve been awful at taking them in the past and it’s noticeable when i skip them. so i’m making sure i take them before i sleep. i’m keeping them in the draw next to my bed so if i’m tired i don’t need to go downstairs. i take 1x probiotic 1x A-Z multivitamin 2x turmeric tablets (they’re anti inflammatory so help my stomach, nothing to do with weight loss) 2x colon cleanse (not laxatives, they manage toxins) and 2x metabolism boosting. they are all made from my dads line of supplements and it’s just to make me feel brighter and hopefully help me faint less as well as being in less pain with my stomach.

fifth, i start my morning very specifically now. what i want to try to do is walk in the morning but i’m taking things one step at a time. i wake up earlier to go downstairs and make myself a green tea and get a bottle of water (my bottle is 800ml and i usually drink about 6 of them everyday). i also get a hot water bottle for my stomach and sit in bed and make sure i drink all of that before i do anything else. i’ve figured out that if my mornings start well the rest of the day tends to go better.

sixth, green smoothie. some people hate the idea of drinking a litre of green liquid first thing in the morning but THIS SHIT HAS BEEN SAVING ME I SWEAR. i’m always constipated, like to the point where i’m lucky if i go once a week. however, my mum has been drinking this smoothie everyday first thing for a few months now and she’s lost quite a bit of weight. i’m not saying it’s a miracle potion but if it makes you shit that’s at least something. i make it differently to my mum, but it works well and doesn’t make you bloated (yay!).

the recipe:

- 150g frozen pineapple

- 100g cucumber

-50g celery

-25g kale

-around 5 mint leaves (optional)

-125ml apple juice (optional but does make it taste better and it’s still low calorie)

-250ml water

-1 scoop green nutrition powder (optional, i just put it in for the extra vitamins and shit)

this fits in one of the large nutribullet cups and comes to around 150-200 calories (depending on whether you include the optional ingredients)

seventh (??), i want to try to walk everyday but the weather is shit and sometimes it’s just too bad to go outside and physically go on a walk. however, one thing i do make sure of everyday is that i plank. i don’t really like doing at home workouts, plus the ceilings and walls in my house are paper thin so my family can hear everything, as much as i can hear everything they do as well. but planking, no noise :) i’ve been doing it on and off for years but i definitely recommend it’s something people get into just because once you can do it for a good amount of time the benefits are endless. your core, thighs, glutes, shoulders, back, chest. everything is working. i can plank for 5 mins and i do this before i go to bed. it’s a good distraction to listen to music in the background and for me i like to watch the timer on my phone. for some people that just reminds them of how much time they have left but it motivates me because i can see that time go down if you get me.

lastly, actual hygiene. i want to shower everyday and make sure i do my skincare so my skin doesn’t dry out too badly and my acne doesn’t flare up. when i restrict too much this is a huge issue for me and again, people notice and my parents are better now at picking things like this up because i have been enrolled in therapy for my ed before, so they have been told about all the behaviours and signs. anyway, i want to get more comfortable with showering because last month i way leaving it for WAY too long, just because i didn’t want to see my body. if i do it everyday even for 5 mins i’ll get more familiar and it’ll become a habit.

that’s what i want this month to be about i think. breaking bad habits and making new ones. i don’t want to purge anymore because tbh i don’t enjoy it, it makes me feel relieved afterwards but unless i’m really uncomfortable i hate doing it, it’s my last resort. i haven’t for months but i don’t want to self harm anymore. i have a job where i’m on show to the public and i don’t want to have to manage new cuts or scars anymore, it stresses me out and gives me very little release for the price i have to pay afterwards.

BUT, on a positive note i do want to eat over 1,000 calories each day. that will be an achievement and i want to get more comfortable with the idea that you can still lose weight on high restriction. i do want to get back into walking and enjoying it like i did in lockdown. i used to look forward to it but i began associating it with weight loss and that ruined it for me. i need to learn to enjoy it because it calms me down and it’s time on my own with nature, not just an excuse to burn calories even if it does come with that benefit. i do want to start running again even though i know that will be challenging due to how tired i am each day. hopefully with my sleep pattern getting better and with the vitamins that won’t be a problem in the near future. i want to read again, it’s such a great outlet.

I’m not ready to let go of my ed, i’m not ready to let go of the control i have right now. However, i’m doing my best to positively better myself as much as i can. this is how i’m doing it, this account is anonymous so don’t compare yourself. you don’t know my age, build, my lifestyle or my situation well enough to even begin to compare yourself. we all struggle, i am still struggling a lot. this whole post seems like i’m doing great but i still cry over 10g of peanut butter. i still get angry when i can’t stick to the plan. i still get nervous when food is mixed into any social situation. this month is about coping in the best way i can.

i really hope that from this someone can take something positive that will improve your quality of life no matter what stage you’re at and just to disclaim, i fully support and encourage recovery, i’m just not in it right now. this is not a pro account, it’s a place for me to vent without judgement.

have a good day :)

#tw ed content #disordered eating tw #tw ed stuff #tw eating things #eating disoder thoughts #restricted eating #eating disoder mention #eating disoder things

[peachyblkdemonslayer]

Yume and Rini meeting Shinku

Yume had been in the hospital a few many times then most people have on her life. People would usually go for births, serious injuries and of someone they cared for was going to pass. She been there for that and much much more, even ending up here herself a couple times. The rustling of the hospital with doctors and nurses bustling about and visitors sitting around waiting to see the people they came for. She sat in the waiting area with Rini who was on her tablet playing a game she's been hyperfixated on for a the last few months. Thumbs tapping the screen helped Yume go into a daze for a moment as they waited for someone to come and get then.

"It's kinda of crazy that we were just here not even a month ago for Uncle Bakugou and Kirishima" Rini says out of the blue. That took her out of her auto pilot mindset as she looked up at her younger sister.

She leaned back into the cushion chair, "Yeah honeslty I didn't think we would be getting another sibling but then again I didn't think any of us would get another sibling"

"Yeah that is kinda werid especially since Dad and Papa were supposed to be retiring in a few years but hey what can we do" she shrugged off at the end of the sentence.

"Thats true what do you think they look like?" She asked. Rini passed the game and looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment.

"I wouldn't be able to even put an idea to what they look like I mean the possibilities are endless if we really think about" she replied.

"Oh how so??"

"I mean with the hair textures they could get alone is all over the place! They could get Dad's yours mines hell they could have Grandpa hair. And then eye colors would be easier since me and Dad's eye color aren't common at all"

Yume agreed with that thought their eye conditions aren't common ones at all. The fact that Rini and Dad both had it was rare as is..

"Then the hair color that's going to be fun"

"Wow what if he has pink haired?" Rini suggested. Yume let out a light laugh st the thought of having a pink haired sibling as if they didn't look all over the place when it came to their genes.

"That would kinda funny honeslty" Rini smiled at her and went on with her game. The two girls went on waiting for a but longer before Shouto came to get them.

The hallway they walked down was very quiet and cold even to her. The sterile smell and lights seemed to make it even colder. Rini and Dad were just talking about everything and anything since they had been at the hospital a couple weeks before the baby was due. She placed her hands in her pockets and began to look at the door numbers to find their Papa.

203...

208...

211...

215!

The trio stopped at the door Shouto in the front grabbing thr doorknob he stopped and looked back at the two. Yume was used to seeing her parents so tired but it was even more prominent with the slight dark circles under his eyes and uncombed hair. But he looked happy when his eyes met her.

"Are you ready to meet them??"

"Yeah!! I want to see what they look like" Rini answered excitedly. Yume just gave a slight smile and nod as Shouto returned it and opened the door.

The first thing to greet her eyes were balloons for the baby with "Congratulations!!" and "Speeding recovery" around Papa bed. In the bed was Papa who also had eye bags and looked like one hard enough blow from the wind going down but was also smiling. In his arms was a Huge bundle wrapped in a Uncle Iida themed baby blanket.

"Holy shit their huge!" Rini let out when she made eye contact with the bundle. Izuku and Shouto gasped at their middle child out burst, Yume struggled to keep her laugh in from it.

"Rini! Don't say that about your brother, and Yume stop laughing" Izuku scolded the two.

She over looked that, "It's a boy??" She asked.

Izuku sighed and motioned them to come closer, "Yes its a boy his name is Shinku come and meet him"

The two walked over to them and looked at their little brother. Rini let out a excited giggled when she saw his hair.

"Wow didn't except that but still cool nonetheless"

Shinki had the red hair of their Dad family but with a white streak over on the left side of his head. She looked closer at him and saw tht the tip of his left eyebrow was white as well. She eyes moved over to his ears that were tinted a brown similar to Rini skin color telling them that Shinku would be the same shade as her. His chest was going up and down as he slept, his arm wiped his cheek a bit.

"Can I hold him?" She asked. Izuku looked up and nodded and handed the baby over to her with no issues. She held enough babies in her life to know how to hold him right.

When he was out into her arms she was taken a back at how heavy he really was. Her parents saw it and laughed at it a but.

"God how much does he weight?" She asked.

"Your holding 8 pounds and 10 oz of baby right there" Shouto answered for her. Rini whistled in amazement at his weight and she had to agreed.

"Thats a lot of beef right there"

"Well you can thank your dad for that" Izuku chide at his husband. Shouto lifted a brow at him but said nothing.

"Sorry for have a 6'6 300 pounds father and being 6'3 200 pounds myself I felt you should have been prepared for that" he teased. Izuku face heated up in embarrassment as he smacked his arm as Shouto huffed out a laugh at him.

"Let me hold him" Rini says. Yume passed him over with no issue, Rini needed a little help holding him right but she got the hang of it soon enough.

Yume watched her sister and parents look at the baby I'm exhaustion, happiness and hope of what he would become of the on the future.

#bnha next gen #midoriya yume #midoriya rini #midoriya shinku #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #tododeku #trans izuku #blasian izuku

[mandadoration]

you’re a fine girl - i

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though. 

word count: 3, 758

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

a/n: Don’t ask me how the layout of Statesman HQ works. I really don’t know, and I’ve watched the movie to try and glean some more info, but I’ve decided, like many things, to bullshit it. This will have a predetermined length of three chapters!

chapters: i 

Read this on AO3

You think it’s hilarious just how stereotypically American the Statesman agency was. Besides the front of it, a Bourbon whiskey distillery that just happens to have racehorses (you never understood that part) on a large expanse of land and have a large influence on the liquor industry all over the US, the agents that were a part of it were just so in-your-face full-blooded American. Hell, even your equipment reflected that, with electric lassos and souped-up sawed-off double barrel shotguns, to cowboy boots with razor sharp spurs and Stetsons designed for stealth and espionage. Statesman was 100% committed to proudly showing off their roots. But you couldn’t really shit on them too much since you were one of their agents as well. That would be severely discrediting you and the work you do.

Even if some of the agents teasingly call you a city-slicker. 

Although you were a Statesman through and through like your mother before you, you had been raised on the less… southern half of the country because of where she was mainly stationed. Good ol’ New York was a whole different territory than Kentucky. She had still made sure you kept up with your training and be ready at a moment’s notice to take over for her. Statesman were proud of their line of agents, names often passed down from parent to child. Built in loyalty, you supposed, and a good way to keep an eye on those who knew secrets. As the world expanded and keeping the peace grew harder by the minute, they’ve strayed far from that tradition, and the organization grew to include people that had no prior connection to it. Your mom had been insistent she at least stay true to that part of Statesman, and often showed you how to watch over New York from the high rise building to groom you for the position in the future until you graduated from your unofficial codename of Ice Tea. But you had moved south to live on a small ranch a few miles from the distillery after she had died on a recon mission instead of staying up north in the concrete jungle. You inherited her position and her moniker as Agent Brandy, supervisor of the intelligence part of the agency and relocating to home base at the same time, but Agent Whiskey had taken up position up in New York in your stead. 

Speaking of Whiskey, there he was, sauntering up to you with a smile playing on his lips as you flicked through reports on your tablet. You spare him a quick glance and a polite smile before you turn your attention back to the reports and mission debriefs, hoping that was enough to leave you alone, but instead he leans against your desk and crosses his arms, and you try your damndest not to look at how his arms make the seams on his jacket strain.

There’s no animosity between you and Whiskey at all, and you’ve said as much when Champagne informed him he would be taking over the New York territory instead of you. You didn’t feel guilty or mad or anything really that you decided to move closer to Statesman because it was your choice, and Whiskey had taken it in stride. You two were just doing your jobs, and that was all. You would even go to say that you were close friends with him, giving him pointers about the secrets of New York while he told you all the gossip about the other agents. The work he did would make your mother proud. 

But why was he so insistent on hanging around at the Statesman headquarters in Kentucky so much?

“Your mission debrief isn’t scheduled until Tuesday, Agent Whiskey,” you say, eyes roving over your calendar before swiftly swiping it off your screen to pay closer attention to Tequila’s report. That man was awful with writing. Did he even have the spell check on? You click your tongue and run the editing software, intent on letting that run in the background while you browsed through various agent requests (there was Gin asking if you could fashion a 200 proof liquor), but Whiskey puts a hand on your tablet and pushes it out of your view. 

“I know, sugar,” he says in that damn Southern accent that manages to make your ears burn. “Just thought I’d come down here to see my favorite intelligence supervisor.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that threatens to split your face. You turn your tablet off and put it down.

“Do you know many intelligence supervisors?” you ask, but your efforts to get him to leave are already an afterthought at the back of your mind. Every time you hold a conversation with him, the amalgamation of your New York and Southern accent sounds crass compared to the honeyed drawl of Whiskey. Two completely different regions. You suppose he might feel the same whenever he’s in New York. Perhaps you two had more in common than you had initially thought. 

You’re off track. It’s maddening how easily he is able to pull a smile or a laugh from you and completely derail you. Even on the worst of your days, he’s able to ease you with just a reassuring smile or touch. Whiskey shrugs and shifts where he sits. 

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But that don’t mean I can’t come see you, does it?” You rest your chin on your hand as you fiddle with your tablet pen. He’s trimmed his mustache, you note.

“I suppose it doesn’t, Agent Whiskey,” you say. Anytime he flies over to the Statesman HQ, you usually see him the same day he lands, if not, you’re the first thing he goes to see. It’s sweet. 

“What does it take for me to convince you to call me Jack, sweetheart?” Whiskey asks, nearly whines, really. He’s been insisting you call him by his real name in private recently, insisting that you were far past those formalities. 

“When you stop calling me those pet names of yours,” you retort back. He looks mock-offended. 

“That’s never gonna happen,” Whiskey says. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Then there you have your answer,” you say simply, and go to pick up your tablet again when it chimes, but Whiskey stops you and pushes it back down flat against the desk. 

“You work too much,” he says, as if that was a decent enough reason to interrupt your work. “Pay some attention to me instead.”

“And I’m starting to think you don’t work enough,” you sigh, and slide the tablet out from under his hand and you turn it back on and check over the editing software. “God knows you spend enough time pestering me.” You don’t tell him that you don’t mind. In the hectic pace in your lives, Whiskey is a nice constant that you find yourself falling back on. 

The software has managed to fix most of the typos and obvious grammar issues, but it’s mangled the nuances of Tequila’s informal writing. You sigh again and swipe the report onto your computer screen to manually edit it before you can send it to Champagne. Whiskey hops off of your desk, and he walks around it to lean over your shoulder to skim the report as well. 

He’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. Smoky, mellow, and warm. 

“Why don’t you just send that off to Ginger to edit? Or Soda?” he asks, voice rumbling in your ear. “‘m sure you have other things to do other than grade Tequila’s piss poor work.” You clear your throat and try your best not to become too distracted. 

“They don’t have high enough clearance to read this report,” you answer. “Nor do I think they have the patience to. Besides, Ginger is tech and Soda is medical. They’d either shoot themselves or shoot me.” Whiskey laughs and leans in a little closer. 

“But I have the clearance to read this as you edit?” he asks, voice low. “You flatter me, Brandy.” You blink, then gasp, whirling around in your chair and narrowly missing clipping his chin with the back of your chair as you push him away from you and back around your desk, smacking him as you do.

“You are a menace!” you exclaim. Whiskey just laughs, humoring you and letting you push him when it would be frightfully easy to just stand there. He blocks your hits and eventually grabs a hold of your wrists to stop you. 

“You love it,” he says, and your face flushes as you try to scowl at him. 

“Get out of my office so I can finish this report,” you order, pointing at the door. Whiskey pouts, but makes his way to the door. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs. He tips his hat at you. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, sweet thing,” he says in a sing-song voice, and the door clicks shut behind him before you can do some serious bodily harm to his person. 

---

You don’t really know what constitutes being “a good girl”, and you don’t really have the chance to find out because you meet with Whiskey again a few hours after he had barged into your office when Champagne calls you up to discuss some technicalities that he had remained vague on.

It’s a short underground tube ride to the Statesman office building a few miles outside the distillery, and an even shorter elevator up to the top floor. Whiskey is already there when you walk in, so you go ahead and take a seat across from him, pulling up your notes in case anything important pops up. You give him a small wave, and he tips his hat at you with a smile. You turn to the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Well, Champ,” Whiskey says, “why’d you call us here?” Champagne fiddles with the lid of a decanter of whiskey before he smacks his lips together and leans back in his chair. 

“Statesman is considering adding another location in California, and I need your expertise,” he announces. He motions to you. “Sent the plans to your tablet, Brandy, but here’s the gist.” The t.v. screen at the other end of the table switches from Statesman stocks to a blueprint of a high rise located in San Francisco, alongside some smaller buildings scattered over the city. “I’m planning on sending Chardonnay over to oversee construction, but this is only the third location to be located in such a large city.” You skim over the notes. Although they wouldn’t be building a distillery, there would be a sub-HQ over there, as well as some Statesman-sponsored bars to keep up surveillance. “The first one being New York, and the other in Nevada.”

“Is there something we should keep an eye on?” you ask, scrolling through various material requests. While the other could handle the usual materials, you would have to put in a special order for the military grade stuff. “What’s the occasion?” Champagne shrugs when you glance over your tablet. 

“It’s been something I’ve been thinking about,” he says. “Stocks are doing good, and there's no looming threat- seems like a good time as any.” You nod. 

“Then why us?” Whiskey asks. “I think Brandy is more than capable of handling this herself.” Champagne furrows his brows. 

“You are in charge of our New York office, aren’t you?” 

“Brandy grew up preparing to take over for it,” Whiskey says. 

“Well--”

“He’s right, sir,” you pipe in. “Whiskey’s about to go in for a mission anyways. There’s no point loading his already full plate. I can handle it.” Champagne presses his mouth in a hard line, but eventually taps the table. 

“Alright then. Brandy, I’ll let Chardonnay know you’ll be taking part in it so he can refer to you with questions. Agents, you’re dismissed.”

Whiskey moves for the door, but pauses when you don’t follow him. You wave him off. “I’ll catch up with you; just need to talk to Champagne about something.” He nods, and leaves. You back around to face Champagne with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to, old man?” He tilts his head and pours some whiskey into his glass. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Bringing Whiskey into this,” you clarify. “You know I can handle this project by myself; why try to rope him in?”

“Thought it be a good experience,” Champagne says, taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth before he turns to spit it out into the spitoon. You wrinkle your nose. 

“For Whiskey?”

“For the both of you,” he corrects. “Whiskey gets to learn more about the technical aspects, you get to, well, spend time with him.” You raise an eyebrow.

“And I want to spend time with him because…?” 

“Don’t you know?” Champagne asks. You shake your head. 

“What? We’re good friends, but we’ve got different jobs,” you say. “So I don’t see a reason why I should be spending time with him outside of what’s necessary.” Champagne just hums with a pensive look on his face. 

“Alright then, girl.” He waves a hand at you. “Off to work.” And Champagne doesn’t elaborate any further. 

---

You are far too busy trying to sort out the semantics of some sort of stirrings of a coup on a Chilean website to go and debrief Whiskey when Tuesday rolls around, so you send Ginger in your stead. She accepts without complaint, but you can see how she frowns when you tell her so. You’ve never gotten the details as to why the two never seem to get along, but Ginger is the most capable person you can think of to take care of things when you’re not able to. 

It takes you a solid 45 minutes to try and go through the Chilean Spanish compared to the Castilian variant you know, but you determine that the rumors of a coup bears no real weight and all it is are empty threats despite the traction it’s gained so far. You suppose you could’ve run the translation, but there were too many nuances and codes that couldn’t be translated over. Just to be sure, you set up a surveillance bot to continue to track the progress and alert you if anything significant happens. By the time you do, Ginger walks in, looking a little frazzled. You frown. “You good, Liz?” Ginger just puts down the debrief folder on your desk as she plops down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow, but slide the folder over and survey the notes she’s taken during the debrief. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Whiskey complaining that he has to fly to Spain to deal with some black market firearms dealers that have gotten too confident. Apparently last time he was there, some sailors tried to swindle him. There’s some quotes of his with choice words in the margins saying so, accompanied by a doodle of him with an angry expression. “Whiskey give you a hard time?” you guess. She nods and takes off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“I honestly don’t understand how you can stand him sometimes,” she says. You shrug. 

“He treats me fine, if not a little persistent,” you note mildly. Ginger snorts and puts her glasses back on. “Hasn’t given me a reason to dislike him. Yet.”

“That’s ‘cause he likes you,” she says. Your stomach flutters at her comment. Then after a moment of pondering, Ginger says, “Think he was in a bad mood because you weren’t the one debriefing him.” You frown. 

“Would it have mattered if I did?” you ask. “You’re perfectly capable.” 

“It’s not capability,” Ginger sighs, leaning forward and resting her forearms on your desk. The motion jostles the cup of pens on your desk and you reach to adjust it back to its place. You click a few things on your computer to pull up the flight details for Whiskey. Scheduled for 5:50pm, an overnight flight that lands in a remote location in Madrid where then he would be promptly escorted to Andalucia. 

You wonder if he’ll come visit you before he leaves. 

You shake the thought out of your head before you go back to look at Ginger, who’s looking at you curiously. “If not capability, then what?” you ask, fighting to keep down the blush that’s threatening to overtake your face.

“You really don’t know?” she asks, almost critically. You furrow your brows. There’s that question again. 

“Is there something I should know?”

Before Ginger can answer, a knock resounds at your door. You give Ginger an apologetic look before you call out, “Come in!” You don’t know why you’re surprised, but it’s Whiskey, again, with a bright smile on his face before his eyes darken at the sight of Ginger. She bristles.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, reaching over and giving your hand a small pat before she gets up to brush past Whiskey, and she closes the door behind you. Whiskey seems to relax at that, and takes the seat she was in. 

“If you’re here to complain about going to Spain, Agent Whiskey, I can’t do anything about it,” you immediately say before he can get a word in. He takes off his hat and puts it on your desk, running a hand through his hair. 

“I wasn’t here to complain,” Whiskey says, chuckling. “You wound me, Brandy.” He puts a hand over his heart and stares at you with a woefully sad face, looking at you with big, warm brown eyes, akin to a kicked puppy. “Missed my favorite intelligence supervisor at the debriefing.” You throw a pen at him, but he just catches it and puts it in with the rest without breaking eye contact. 

“Doubt you’re here just to see me,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your flight?”

“I’ve got time,” Whiskey says. “If I remember correctly, it’s not until 6:00. Gives me a little under 2 hours until I gotta leave.”

“5:50,” you correct him automatically. “So less than that. You’ll wanna leave in an hour or so to account for traffic.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your heart beat a little faster. 

“You keepin’ track of when I’m ‘bout to leave?” he purrs, leaning forward. You scoff, but think in the back of your mind that there’s some truth to that. 

“I’m the one that booked your flight with Triple Sec,” you say dryly. “Be weird if I didn’t know what time exactly, Agent Whiskey.” Whiskey hums, but leans back in his chair and spreads his legs in an almost obscene matter that leaves you thrumming in your skin. 

“Jack,” he says.

“Hm?”

“My name is Jack.” You laugh. 

“I know what your name is, Agent,” you say. “It’s kinda my job to know everybody. Feel like we’ve already talked about this about a million times by now.” 

“Still, it’d be nice to hear you say it,” he says, almost absentmindedly as he picks at his nails, brows furrowed in a vulnerable expression. Your face falls at his soft tone. To be honest, your refusal to say his name was more because you perceived it as a game. Whiskey would press you to actually call him by his name, and you would coyly refuse, and he would leave with a promise that he would get you to say it one way or another. But something is clearly bugging him. 

You reach a hand forward, towards him, touching the other edge of your desk. Close enough for him to reach for it. His gaze snaps to your hand, and something tells you that Whiskey wants to. There is some kind of longing in his eyes that the firm, hard line of his mouth is trying its hardest not to betray. “You okay?” Whiskey’s fingers twitch. Something holds him back. 

He clears his voice, forcing a smile on his face, and the moment is broken. “Right as rain, sugar,” he says. “Pre-mission jitters, I suppose.” You suppose that’s not totally unwarranted. Whiskey would be going on into the field on his own due to the delicacy of the mission, the only backup available being Triple Sec piloting the plane. And, well, Whiskey didn’t exactly blend in with the typical Madrid population with his loud voice and louder personality. Statesman didn’t have a base out in Europe either. You give him a reassuring smile, and you try not to think too hard at how the tension seems to melt out of him at that. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you soothe. You retract your hand, and honestly at this point it seems as though Agent Whiskey has taken up permanent residence in your mind because you swear you spot some sort of deep emotion as his eyes trail after it. “Just like you always do, Whiskey.” The muscles in Whiskey’s jaw work as he clenches his teeth together before he claps his hands and stands up, that same charming smile on his face but not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Well I suppose that is some improvement!” he says. You tilt your head. 

“What do you mean?” Whiskey pulls the flask off his belt and takes a swig. 

“Got you to say my codename without all the preamble, now, didn’t I?” he says, winking at you. You stammer and flush red with embarrassment. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Now before you start wailing on me like last time,” he says, “I’ll see myself out. Like you said, I still need to pack. I’ll see if I can bring back a souvenir for you while I’m across the pond.” You cross your arms. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Whiskey shrugs and heads for the door. 

“Can’t stop me, can you?” You smile at him. 

“Guess not,” you say, almost to yourself, then your gaze falls to his hat still sitting on your desk. “Wait, Whiskey, your--” He holds up a hand. 

“Hold on to it while I’m gone, ‘kay?” he asks. You nod. “Good girl. Give me something to look forward to when I come back.” You make a motion to grab a pen, bursting out laughing when he moves to catch it when you feign a throw. He smiles, too, more genuinely this time. “See you in a couple days, darling.”

And you can’t help but start to miss him when the door clicks shut behind him. 

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen​ @mando-vibes​ @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey reader #agent whiskey x you #whiskey x reader #whiskey x you #whiskey reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels reader #jack daniels you #kingsman reader #kingsman #agent whiskey #whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #my writing

[monstaxdesires]

The Arrangement (Chapter Two)

(Chapter One)

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you pressed the numbers in the right order. You let out a shaky breath closing your eyes as you pressed dial. The line rang three times before he answered.

“Hello?”

You were quiet, your voice was stolen from you.

“Hello? Anyone there?” His deep voice filled your head and you fought down the familiar feeling it gave you whenever he came into the store.

“It’s me,” you say gently, nails digging into your thigh as you sit on the edge of your chair. “I wanted to talk to you about your offer.”

You didn’t have to see him to know he had that ever-charming smirk on his face. You could hear it in his tone as he spoke again.

“What changed?”

“Something I would rather not discuss right now,” you raise your shaking hand to your hair, pulling it over one shoulder nervously. “Is the offer still on the table?”

“I don’t know,” he mused and you heard a deep chuckle from him. “Depends. What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Come to dinner with me.”

You bite your lip before counting to three and trying to make yourself relax. You could do this, dinner was easy. It was this or use your savings while you hunt down a second job which was still an option even if you went to dinner with him.

“Why?”

He clears his throat, your question taking him by surprise. “To discuss the offer. My offer was very vague if you remember and I want you to know all the facts before you continue any further.” He pauses and you hear a faint noise like glass clinking in the background. “I honestly didn’t expect you to call Beautiful. You have surprised me again.”

“Chalk it up to curiosity.”

“Then this dinner is perfect. You have a nice cocktail dress right?”

“Sure,” you answer.

Your thoughts shifting to the little black dress in the back of your closet. It had been a birthday gift from your coworkers. It belonged to the designer you worked for but had been severely marked down so they pitched in and bought it for you so you would have something nice to wear when they took you out to celebrate.

“Perfect. I will send a car for you at 7 pm sharp. Text me your address,” he instructs, his voice softer now. You shiver, the change in his tone making you feel like you were wrapped up in silk. “Oh, and Beautiful?” He says catching your attention before you can hang up.

“Yes?”

“Relax. We will discuss the offer and you will meet a few friends at a dinner party.”

“Okay.”

You hang up and send your address before you drop the phone in the chair as you march to dig the dress out of your closet.

———————————

He entered the store and you moved to greet him like usual. The dark-haired woman on his arm flashing a smile at you. You had not seen her before. She was a new one.

“Good afternoon,” you say, folding your hands in front of you and your face not giving away what you knew. He smirks at you, his eyes dragging over you like they always do before he turns to his companion. “How can I help you today?” You direct your attention to her knowing exactly how to handle him after so many encounters.

“I need a new wardrobe,” she says, her gaze glued to him now. “It is a birthday treat.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. It always was.

“No limit,” he says to both of you before he releases her arm. “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”

You turn to signal the team that was waiting off to the side that it was time to assist and they move forward and guide her to begin the afternoon-long process of picking items out to try on and let everyone admire her. They were well versed in this part of the job. It happened at least once a week, not always with him, but a group of them frequented enough that it was down to a science among all employees.

“Thank you,” he says to you but he is watching her. “Your staff never disappoints and neither do you.” He turns his gaze to you and smiles. “How are you? It has been a few weeks.”

“I am well.” You reply. He had been your first experience when you started a little over seven months ago. It had been a shock to your system but even then you had regained your composure and proceeded how you were directed to.

You liked to keep your information limited with all clientele, especially this particular type of clientele. They did the same, it was a mutual understanding. You knew his name, or the name he chose to go by, but you never learned the women’s names. Only referring to them as Miss when necessary. 

“And you?”

“Well,” he agrees. His eyes are back on his birthday girl. “She’s lovely isn’t she?”

“Very.”

He flashes his perfect teeth in a genuine smile before starting to move towards his usual seat.

“The usual?” You ask softly.

“Yes, thank you.”

You go behind your desk to grab his favorite bottle of dark liquor and a glass tumbler to pour it in. You glance at him to see him unbutton his jacket before taking a seat so he could watch her enjoy her time in the store.

“Want me to take it instead?” Your coworker, Ann, asks as she moves to your side.

She noticed you seemed a little more on edge this time and you weren’t sure why, nothing was different. But something in his eyes had you a little more wary. You shake your head. He preferred things to be kept the same as always.

“He favors you, you know.” She says. You look at her with a confused expression. “You could always be her instead.”

“No,” you cut her off. “He has never and would never even dare. And I have the job I want right now. It’s enough to teach me and help me with saving for my ultimate goal. That is all I need.”

She shrugs walking away and you glance to check on him but he is staring at you. His gaze is unwavering. You inhale a breath steadying your nerves before going to him. You place the tumbler on the table beside him before handing him the usual leather-bound portfolio. You kept it for the clients that would come in and brought their significant others who needed something to occupy themselves while they waited. It was a catalog of the recent men’s designs and included a tablet for their pleasure.

“You know where I am should you need me,” you murmur your usual sentence and begin to turn on the ball of your foot to go back to your post. He reaches out, his fingers folding around your wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

“Sit with me for a moment.”

Your lips part in surprise and you glance to see his companion immersed in the staff’s presentation of the first round of clothing.

“Only a moment,” he says casually.

You take the seat beside him and fold your hands in your lap now that he has released you.

“This is for you.” He murmurs and holds it out for you.

You take it, the matte finish on it showing how expensive his taste was. It was thicker than a normal business card and much simpler. His name scrawled across the front, Wonho. He watches you flip it over and see his cell the only thing on the back. You look up at him, confused. The store had his information on file why you were you being given this. He picks up on your confusion.

“That is for your personal use.”

“Sorry?” Your usual demeanor dropping and he grins at the little peek he gets of your normal demeanor.

“I like you. You are different.”

“Different?” You ask, scrambling to get the situation back under control.

“Different,” he repeats before looking down at the portfolio resting on his lap. “I know you are aware of the situation,” he says gesturing between the girl and himself. “It is not what you may think, but it is a version of it. I can help. I like to help. The card is for you should you need my help.”

“Oh,” you bite your lip, cheeks warming with slight embarrassment. You had never meant to incline that you wanted his help. “That’s not-”

“I know,” he says opening the portfolio without looking at you. “But I want you to have the card. You do not have to do anything with if you do not wish to.” He looks at you again when you do not reply. “That is all.”

You stand, mind still racing to try and wrap itself around the situation. “I apologize if I insulted you.” You quickly try to repair any damage. You knew that their business was vital to the survival of the company and you would not let it be your fault if it was lost.

“You have not insulted me Beautiful. I have debated on giving you that card since the first time we met. Let’s leave it at that for now, yes?”

“Yes,” you reply before going back to your desk. His card pressing into your palm as you grip it tightly.

Hours later you had regained your composure and done your job well for the rest of their visit. She had wrapped up her shopping and your staff would package it all up and deliver it to the address he was now writing on a card. He placed it in the usual envelope before passing it to you without a word. You took it from him as she thanked the staff a few feet away.

“Our secret, understood?” He asks. You look at him, tipping your head to the side before eyes widen slightly.

“Understood.”

He grins. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Before you can respond she is now by his side thanking you before they leave together. He does not look back and you feel your shoulders drop as the staff all beam at one another. They scurry to your desk inquiring about the tip he had left. You open the envelope before passing the address to Ann. The delivery side was her responsibility. She accepts it with glee and reads the address. It was never his, always hers, but still, it was fun to see where they lived.

“How much?” She peaks over the counter to your hands. You finish counting before looking up at them.

“$2,000.”

They cheer in excitement and you grin. The biggest tip yet and another deposit into your savings account.

“Including the delivery team that means we each get an extra $200 on our paychecks next week. Well done team.”

They all grin and hug one another before being dismissed back to their duties. One of the accounting clerks is already waiting to take the tip. You pass it off and write down the information for your records and the department's records.

———————————

The car arrived right on time and now you were being taken to what you knew would be a lavish event. You knew the driver, it was his driver, and that helped calm your nerves some. He had greeted you without judgment and you had been thankful.

You squeezed your hands together as he turned onto a stone drive that had a soft glow from little twinkle lights intertwined in the lush green trees lining the drive.

“You look lovely,” Luke speaks and you blush ducking your head. “Mr. Wonho likes you. You will have a wonderful evening I am sure.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

“Anytime,” he smiles before pulling the car to a stop at the entrance. Your door opens and a hand is offered to help you. You grasp it as you step outside of the car to see Wonho smiling at you. He looked dashing in a fitted black tux. You had picked that tux out months ago and it warmed your heart a little to see him using it.

“You look stunning,” he says admiring you at arm's length.

“You look handsome as always,” you return and he flashes a bright smile that makes you smile a little. “If I remember correctly I suggested this particular tuxedo.”

“You did,” he confirms. You both enter the venue before he delicately plucks two champagne flutes from a platter that a passing server is carrying.

He offers you one and you take it. His free hand falls to the small of your back. The warmth radiating from his palm making you blush the slightest bit.

“A few things about tonight,” he starts as you take in everything around you. “Almost all of the gentlemen and a few of the beautiful women here tonight are similar to me. You will see some of the clients you service. Reframe from talking to them if possible,” he says turning you to face him.

He stares at you, his dark eyes warm. His hand lifts to your face. His knuckles brushing your cheek.

“Tonight you are my beautiful and stunning guest and not the girl who handles all of our affairs for your company. Tonight is a test, I have no concern about how you will do, but I want to be honest with you. If you do as well as I think you will then we will discuss how I can help you further.”

“Understood.”

“Ask any question you want and stay by my side unless you need to be excused to the ladies' room.” He tips his head admiring you before winking which makes your heart race a little. “If you are ready I would like to begin introducing you to some of my friends.”

“I would,” you say, knowing he wants to show you off. “But I think you should know that I am not a drinker other than a glass of wine when life calls for it.”

He chuckles. “Me either, but it makes everyone feel a little better if everyone appears to be drinking.”

“Ah,” you smile clueing in and keeping your flute in your grip instead of discarding it.

“Once dinner begins I will make sure you have water or wine if you desire.”

“Thank you Wonho.”

“Now, I would like for you to meet Hyungwon first.” He gestures to a tall man with slightly longer dark hair a few feet away. 

You noted the blonde on his arm and the Givenchy gown she wore. It fit her like a glove and you knew she had been his companion for longer than usual. The giveaways being the gown and how he admired her when she spoke to those standing around him. 

“He is in love,” Wonho says softly in your ear. “You can tell from here can’t you Beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he pats your hip. “I knew you would do well.”

You blush before peaking at him to see that charming smile on his face again. You were doing well so far.

(Chapter Three)

#Monsta X #monsta x au #shownu #wonho #Minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{1}

Title: Going Through Motions {1}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot

Word Count: 1.9K

  Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

  Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosley Proofread/edited**

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

“What do you mean?”

  “What’s not to understand? The Avengers are being put back together,” Tony exclaimed with a clap of his hands. Korral stood there gaping at him convinced he’d lost his mind. The Avengers had been broken up for the last near seven years. They were all sprawled out across the world doing god knows what. The CIA, FBI, SHIELD and every government entity had an order that if any of them were seen they were to be immediately apprehended if safe to do so and if they put up a fight they were to shoot to kill. That was the order for all except Steve; he was shoot to kill on sight.

   “Tony, I don’t understand.” He continued to walk, not caring that you’d stopped in the hall trying to make sense of his words. You scurried to catch up and made it just in time before the elevator doors closed. You pressed your back to the glass wall and took a deep breath.

   “Explain it to me, please.” Tony took a deep breath and paused his tapping into the tablet he held.

  “Right now, we are going down to the conference room that I hate the most to sit with the powers that be who think they’re in charge of the world’s defenses--,” he said normally before his voice dropped to a less than discreet whisper. “They’re really not,” he finished before pointing a self-gratifying finger to himself. Shaking your head, you stifled a scoff; this was nothing new, this was Tony. You didn’t mind, after working with him for the last ten years you’d gotten to know him pretty well.

   “What are we meeting with them for? I thought we hated them after the fallout.” Tony nodded and continued tapping into the tablet.

 “Oh, we do still hate them, but keep your enemies closer, remember.” You nodded because it was rule number two around here. “So. we’re going to meet them so they can officially gloss over their shortcomings in the last year to generously drop the charges against our friends,” he explained. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor, and Tony walked off, you remained still trying to catch up. You felt like you were in an alternate universe. “When did all this happen?” Again, you looked beside you and Tony wasn’t there, he was halfway across the lobby. You ran to him.

   “Last night,” he said before he stopped and looked at you. “Are you okay?” He had to be kidding. You currently had whiplash. You had no idea any of this was in the works. “Korral!” Tony shouted your name and snapped his fingers before your face. You focused on him. “Yes, I’m fine.” He studied you, and you wondered if he was using his high-tech glasses to scan you. “I’m fine. I just needed a minute to catch up. What do you need from me?” Tony started walking again, and it was then you saw the obscene amount of security agents standing around.

   “I’ve sent it to your tablet. I also want you to tally how many times one or more of them says this phrase sequence “our decision.” I’m placing my bet now that it’ll be more than twenty. What’s yours?” As you looked around you and accessed those around you, you tried to get control over your nervousness. If this order actually went through it meant a lot. It meant a hell of a lot. Shaking your head, you straightened your back and pasted a calm, detached expression to your face. “Twenty is lowballing it, go big or go home, I call every other sentence.” Tony smiled and nodded. “I like the way you think Evans.”

   The two of you walked toward the conference room, three secret agents stopped you and scanned your bodies with a wand no doubt checking for weapons. They were right to check. The wand beeped ferociously at Tony’s chest, and he gave them a “are you serious” look before they allowed him through the conference doors. When it was your turn, they looked over you but didn’t scan. They just nodded their head to let you through. They clearly didn’t think you were a threat. When you walked into the room there were seven powerful-looking men and dozens of others standing around. You quickly surveyed the room and made a note of everyone. Most were familiar faces, but there were a few that were all new to you.

   As you and Tony took your seats you scanned the file Tony sent you and smiled at the top disclaimer. “Don’t trust any of them, especially the one with the brown suit and purple tie, who wears purple and brown?” Pinching your lips, you tried to keep a professional exterior. The Secretary of State began his spiel; he looked less than happy to be saying the words. No doubt he hated to admit that the world needed the Avengers. Since their disbandment and the kill orders, chaos was everywhere, and threats came from left and right. They were stretched thin and quickly came to regret their decisions, but like the government, they also hated to admit their wrongdoings and make a change. That meant they would have to be right here in front of Tony and Tony was a less than gracious winner.

   Just as expected, every sentence showcased that they had come to this decision with no outside influence. Every time he said it Tony sent a message to you keeping tally of it. By the time the Secretary of State finished, it had easily been thirty minutes.  “So, let me get this right; you’re here with your tail between your legs admitting that you made a mistake, a very horrible mistake and now it’s your decision to rectify it? is that right?” You smirked and pinched your lips again. Of course Secretary of State Ross didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded his head to one of the many heads in the room. From the back, a young woman gathered a few folders and placed them in front of all who sat at the conference table. You opened the folder and saw images of the people you’d worked with for years and who you hadn’t physically seen in too long.

   “Glad to see you’re still the same Stark.” Tony looked in the folder. “I don’t know who you want me to turn into Ross; I can only be me.” You slowly flipped through the images, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha and him. You stopped at his picture and almost audibly gasped, you didn’t expect he would be part of this deal. You thought it would be just the others. Your heart began pounding rapidly, and you slowly went over every detail of his face, every minuscule wrinkle, each bushy eyebrow, his defined nose, and equally defined jaw and his lips. Lips you’d surprisingly fell in love with. He was gorgeous. It had been seven years since you’d seen him, there was no indicating he looked this way anymore. He could have aged, wrinkled, something.

   “Do you want this to happen or not?” You brought your attention back to him those in the room and glanced at Tony who took a deep breath. “Continue.” Secretary Ross went over the details of the deal which primarily spoke of each of them having to remain on the straight and narrow and follow the rules that had been in place before everything went to shit. You knew they wouldn’t support the accords, that was never going to happen. A message came in from Tony, and he knew it too, but with Tony, he knew how to keep his hand hidden to make it seem he was playing ball. “You’re responsible Stark. This will blow back on you if this goes south—again,” Secretary Ross finished.

   Tony held up two of his fingers; “On my honor as a boy scout Ross. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He did the actual action for emphasis. “We’ll see. Let’s get this over with.” Tony took out his pen and signed his name then slid the folder to the center of the table. Across the table, Secretary Ross did the same, but unlike Tony, he didn’t look so confident, it was as if he expected this to go bad. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect. Another ten minutes passed, and the meeting finished. You excused yourself to the ladies’ room and stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long trying to get a grasp on everything that had just happened.

   When you walked into Tony’s office thirty minutes later, he stood and waved you over. You hurried to his desk and listened to the tail end of his conversation. “It’s only a matter of time now. I expect the announcement tonight or tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.” He turned to you and smiled. “Ready for things to get a lot louder around here?” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious. You nodded and did your best to smile. “Tony, does this include—him?” As if for the first time realizing your struggle Tony’s expression softened. “Steve. Uh, yeah. His terms are slightly different though; because of his role in breaking the others out and aiding and abetting Bucky they think his morals are compromised.” You nodded. You weren’t surprised by his actions once you’d learned of them. You and Steve had several long conversations where he told you all about his friendship with Bucky and his regrets over the years. Steve was as loyal as they came. That was one of the traits that solidified the decision to make him Captain America back in the day. He was goodness.

   “So, what are his terms?” Tony took a bottle of water out the mini-fridge and drank from it. “Well, they definitely want him to sign the accords and sort of agree to be surveilled,” he rushed out. You snorted. “That’s not happening Tony.” He nodded. “Oh, I know, but they don’t know that.”

   You were used to the ride the slope of right and wrong with Tony. “Why would you go out on a limb knowing he wouldn’t agree, especially after everything that happened between you?” Tony sighed and looked out over the setting sun of the New York skyline. “Seven years is a long time Korral. I’ve had a lot of time to think and see things differently and from other perspectives. You can thank Pepper for that.” You smiled; Pepper did make him more human. It was sweet. “I understand. Plus, he’s Captain America, he’s Earth’s best defender.” You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Tony nodded his head and walked away. “Laugh it up. I know you’re laughing to hide the fact that you’re freaking out about this especially given the nature of your relationship back then and the state of your relationship with Marc currently.”

  Yeah, he called you out—extra loud. “Wow.” Tony smiled again and sat behind his desk. “If those are the terms, he won’t come back Tony. There is no way in hell he would come back on the grid to be controlled. You know Steve.” He sat there studying you. “Is it that you truly believe he won’t come back or you’re afraid he will?” You shook your head, rolled your eyes and looked out the window. “He won’t come back,” you finalized before you turned and walked to the door. “Good night.” There would be nothing in the world that would drag him back into the light especially to give up his freedom.

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

#going through motions fic #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black reader #angst fanfic #steve rogers smut

[demonboidies]

𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 - 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼

pt.7

word count: 2,545

<this is a yandere story, therefore this is a trigger warning for emotional abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships and overall unhealthy obsession towards the reader/mc/yn>

taglist: @iwannabeanidol  @taezeus @jooniescupcakes @aesthetically-messed-up @okepoke @weirdo-in-the-closet @aysha489​ @illnevertrustmyselfagain​ @sessi03​ (comment under this post that you want to be added to the taglist; commenting anywhere else will not be counted for) 

jungkook was really cute, in general. he captured hearts of many people, unintentionally, of course. it was an obvious fact and everyone knew it. except, all of the atoms in jin, hoseok, namjoon, and yoongi's body wouldve disagreed at this moment.

he was a whining, stomping, stubborn mess right now. tears were streaming down his face as he stomped about in his room, definitely making a big mess. the covers were thrown onto the floor as he kicked the small rug on his floor.

"hey, bun-bun, please stop! do you want noona to see this big mess?" namjoon tried persuading the boy, who stopped momentarily. he shook his head no and namjoon nodded, "exactly. if i tell noona that you made this mess, do you think she'll be happy? who knows she might just leave us if she sees this."

at the prospect of you leaving, his eyes teared up even more. he collapsed onto the ground, grabbing a pillow he had previously thrown onto the ground to cry into.

"no!~~"

the wail made all 4 of the guys cringe. finally, yoongi stepped forward running a hand through jungkook's hair.

"hey, bunny, why don't you get into bed and wait there for y/n to come back?"

jungkook shook his head.

"why not buddy?"

"i-i wanna see her when she comes inside, jungkookie doesn't want to wait any longer."

yoongi nodded thoughtfully, helping his fellow friend up, "we can wait downstairs, let's go."

his hand clasped tightly around jungkook's, letting the little sit on the couch which was positioned right in front of the door. yoongi made sure jungkook was preoccupied, turning to namjoon.

"get him his banana milk."

in a few seconds, the carton of milk was in jungkook's hand as he clutched a pink bunny plush in his other, staring at the door with determination. it was as if he was a runner, you opening the door would be the equivalent to the start of the race, and jungkook would have to run as fast as possible to you - the finish line.

jin sighed dramatically, feeling the weight off of his shoulders as he rolled his chair into the kitchen. hoseok and yoongi followed, letting namjoon stay preoccupied with jungkook.

"gosh, i knew he was reliant on her, but this is the worst episode ever." jin said taking a large gulp of water, he was trying to trick himself by thinking it was vodka. he indeed needed a drink, but right now wasn't an appropriate time.

"you know he has like over," hoseok paused thinking of a reasonable number, "200 photos on his phone, only imagine how many he has on his laptop, tablet, and probably has some on his fucking smart watch. knowing him he probably programmed it differently, just for that."

yoongi chuckled dryly, silently pitying jungkook. "he's so dependent, it's scary." he shook his head as if he was disappointed in jungkook.

hoseok and jin looked at each other, then at yoongi and broke out in laughter.

"coming from the guys who used her as your 'muse'." jin exclaimed, hoseok nodding and laughing along with him.

yoongi's face lit up a light pink, "oh whatever, at least i dont lie to her." his clap back made jin roll his eyes.

"we all agreed to this so don't go on bringing up that. that's just you trying to be a hero." jin's snarky comment made yoongi shut up immediately, although the glare he had directed to jin was clear on how he didn't like his snide comment.

"jungkook is just young, that's why. assured, we all acted that way when we were his age."

"pft, at his age i was kil-"

"noona!!~"

the excited squeal cut off jin who sighed heavily once again. wordlessly, they all walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. they saw jungkook holding you close by your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, even if you were noticeably shorter than him.

"hey jungkook." you patted his shoulder in greeting, your other hand being occupied by taehyung's hand. jimin watched the two youngest get most of the attention so he stomped into the kitchen. he grabbed one of your favorite drinks, bringing it out to you in a glass cup.

"here noona, drink this. you must be exhausted." you thanked jimin with a smile, pulling away from jungkook. you took a sip from the drink, looking at all of the expecting males. were they just waiting for you to come home? their eyes were wide, a smile on their lips...resembling puppies almost.

their eager eyes suddenly tore away from you, noticing your questioning eyes. "so..."

"noona let's play games upstairs!"

"y/n wanna check out my studio? i was working on some new tracks, if you're curious to hear some."

"noona, i never got around to showing you my dance performances right?"

you blinked slowly, staring at the individuals who were looking at you expectingly. the grip around your arm and you looked down to see jungkook looking at you with his bright, big doe eyes and lips formed into a pout.

"noona~ please?"

your breath hitched, the sight making your heart stop. the same time, your hand was being pulled in the direction of taehyung. you looked at the younger male.

"noona, you haven't spent much time with me. jungkook can wait, can't he?" taehyung's tone dropped and you could see in your peripheral vision jungkook moving towards his hyung.

"what? what are you getting at, taehyung?"

the other boy's eyebrows raised, shocked at the sudden informal tone jungkook had.

"i'm sayin-"

BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.

there was a vibration coming from your right pocket. so you took ahold of your ringing device, after un-twining your hand out of taehyung's (with his reluctance, of course), and swiped to answer it. you tried turning your body to the side for some privacy, but jungkook's hold didn't loosen a bit.

so you let out a sigh, saying a greeting to whomever was on the other end.

"good afternoon, ms. y/n."

"uhm, hello. who am i speaking to?"

the boys tried acting like they weren't listening in, except for jungkook who was watching you like a hawk. they were either on their phone, playing games, or just looking out the window.

"this is mr. kim, the secretary of mr. park hyung-sik's company, EyeCandy."

the name was familiar, it was one of the biggest companies regarding technology in South Korea. it was a job you had applied to maybe more than 2 months ago. it was a longshot dream you had. they handled many out of the country project and you simply wanted to become one of their translators. it was stupid of you to think you even had a chance. and it was obvious after the ceo had gotten up on a stage in america and by his side was a girl speaking into a microphone.

"ah," you said, not knowing what to think of it, "and why are you calling? sorry for the rudeness, but i can't wrap my head around it...i mean, i applied months ago."

jin's eyebrow raised in question, definitely paying attention now. applied? as in for a job?

"actually, i'm glad to be the bearer of good news, so we would like to say we have accepted you as mr. park's own personal translator."

you blinked once. twice. and thrice, or the third time.

"i'm sorry but, what?"

"come around at 8 am sharp tomorrow if you're interested."

and the line went dead.

"let's go!" jungkook said tugging your arm to go upstairs. but you wouldn't budge. jungkook began whining slightly, but stopped when you looked concerned with something. it seemed safe for him to assume it was regarding whoever you were on the phone with.  

"oh! i remember, hobi," you said looking at the surprised male in question, "your studio. it should be opening in 20 minutes, you asked for me to remind you earlier this morning."

the boys looked at hoseok suspiciously, but he only smiled gratefully. "oh thank you! i really forgot!"

he glanced at the boys, who were staring at him with high suspicion, but he gave no second thought to them, rushing upstairs.

"you know, noona," taehyung looked at you, softness in his eyes and smile, "you can call me tae or taetae if you want."

you smiled at his cute nickname, opening your mouth to respond, but jungkook cut you off.

"goo! kookie! jungkookie! you can call me those names! even bun-bun!"

'really? i would think annoying brat would be more fitting," yoongi thought bitterly, not loving the fact he was still attached to your arm - and the fact you seemed okay with it.

"well, if we're getting familiar with nicknames," yoongi said with a calm voice, "i give you permission to call me yoongs." he already made clear on the first day he wouldn't mind if you called him oppa or yoongs, but he thought restating it would've encouraged you to call him that more often. "oppa is fine too."

jin glared at him for taking the oppa title. "actually, you could call me oppa too, and if you want jinie. seeing as i am the oldest, that title should be reserved for me too." jin threw a glare at yoongi who only rolled his eyes.

you chuckle at the seemingly playful banter, not knowing how competitive they were actually being.

"joonie is cool with me." namjon said casually, walking closer to you. "and actually could i speak to you alone for a moment."

the mention of being alone with namjoon made junkook tighten his grip around you.

"no! noona is going upstairs with me," he declared for what felt like the thousandth time today,

"goo, i swear only 5 minutes. and you can take her upstairs to play overwatch or whatever."

the youngest showed to sign of letting up, until yoongi sighed and walked up to him. "goo, let's go. namjoon needs to talk about someting serious-"

"i am serious!" jungkook said puffing his chest out.

yoongi gritted his teeth, grabbing jungkook by the back of his neck and making him lean down a bit, so he cuold speak very clearly right into his ear.

"jeon, you better stop fucking around and come with me, let namjoon and y/n talk alone - it's something very important. or i swear to god, i'm gonna...beat the shit out of y/n right now, take them away from you, and make sure you never see them again." yoongi's words held no meaning, zero at all, but it got the reaction he wanted. jungkook let go of you, grabbing yoongi by his collar and staring him right into his irises. yoongi could tell how jungkook had switched, snapped, and was angrier than he's ever seen.

"repeat that shit to my face right now." jungkook, rather jeon, was furious. this persona/alter of jungkook was more aggressive than any other alter that jungkook had (at least known by the boys). it was a very, very, very stern rule in the house to not trigger that part of him. it never really ended well, no matter who tried to calm him down. the only way jeon would leave would be if jungkook had gotten sleep or just past out for whatever reason.

"come on," namjoon said, grabbing your wrist to pull you aside. it would be best if you didn't see anything that was about to go down, "there's something important we need to discuss."

you reluctantly let him tug you in the direction of his office. he shut the door behind you, but you flinched when you heard something crash.

"alright, so what i wanted to talk about was regarding your living location..." his voice trailed off, fiddling with some papers in his drawers, "jin and i wanted to know if you would be staying with us or you would be residing back at your apartment?"

this discussion was really supposed to be saved for later, but hearing your phone call and seeing jungkook's unusually clingy attitude, it seemed to be a good time to bring this question upon you. after all, with everything that seems to be happening at this moment, you might even say yes due to the pressure.

you nodded slowly. the decision had to be made, and the pros and cons of your choices were clear. living with the boys would only make your job easier, however it would inconvenience the boys. living by yourself (as you had been living before) would let you not be in anyone's way, however, the commute to the hill would have to happen every day and it sounded tiresome just thinking about it.

"i mean there is no pressure, however, we - as in all 7 of us - want you to know that it would be no problem if you had decided to stay with us. don't think that you would be a burden, you're already helping us so much. it also seems fitting if you're going to be here every day, in the case of an emergency or something," his voice trailed off in the end, noticing how you were in deep thought. he saw the contemplation on your voice and he smirked a bit. he just needed to convince you a little bit...

"and i'm sorry to say this to you - i just need you to know. the youngest ones really do rely on you for a lot of stuff. we need you here on time to be driving them at their designated hours. also...to think about jungkook - he really needs you by his side as well as taehyung. i don't know if you've noticed, but you're one of their calming remedies."

well now you really couldn't say no. to know that you were actually needed, i mean, you knew you were needed but for the sake of the two youngest. being called their remedies. it was like namjoon was planning all of this out only for you to say yes, his wicked and smooth words were very persuading.

and persuaded you were. it was crazy. you had only met the 7 males a mere day ago, but being called one of their calming remedies. if you were needed for an emergency, it would be too late if you were to commute to the hill. so the only option was...

"i guess i should start packing my things up then," you said, almost hesitantly. "i really would hate to burden you guys, but, my job here might be a waste if i would have to commute every day." you smile softly at the pleased man in front of you.

that was step one done and accomplished. everything was going well.

//I called this one pros and cons bc obvs ar the end,,,,but like pros and cons of jungkook is basically why that's the title

bc see hes a cutie wootie patootie, but hes also an annoying lil bitch for his noona ❤🥰 [pros and cons]

[that was a joke lol pls dont take offence]

[^jk finding out his noona is paying more attention to his hyungs]

#yandere bts #yandere imagines #bts imagines #imagines #x reader #yandere x reader #bts x reader #yandere bts imagines #yandere bts ot7 #yandere ot7 #sickly ff #yandere sickly ff #sickly ot7 #bts ot7 imagines #ot7 imagines

[bonnieisaway]

that dumb saiki k fanfic i wrote but chapter 2

chapter 1 | story on wattpad

chp. 2 - not my intention

There was one part of auras that had always confused Aiura.

See, she was born with the ability to see auras and into the future and all that. Ever since she could walk and talk she could remember trying to figure out people based off their auras, learning what they meant.. Not only did auras reflect someone's personality, but they could also reflect memories they held dear, emotions they felt strongly, and even then her fortune telling let her tell so much more about them.

But there was one thing she didn't entirely understand, even now as a second year in high school. When she was 6 or 7, she started seeing a new part of auras. A red string.

A red string, in most contexts, connects two soulmates together by an invincible string tied around their fingers. When she was around 7 she noticed that her parents had one tied to each other. Some times she'd watch people pass each other on the street and notice them form. Red strings were a part of your aura and they had only formed when you had actually met your soulmate. Aiura had this come easy to her but what always confused her was why it took so long for her to see them. Or maybe, why did it take so long for them to form?

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Saiki sighed as he walked along behind his friends..and (L/n), who you could consider his friend, but it's up in the air if he'd say the same. As Kaido and Nendo bickered and Kuboyasu sided with Kaido, (L/n) fell back to walk next to Saiki. Her thoughts rang clear as she walked and scrolled through something on her phone.

'This feels kind of awkward..' (L/n) frets as she bites her bottom lip, momentarily glancing to Saiki. 'I wanna talk to him but he's giving off the "please let me go never interact with humanity ever again" vibe.' Oddly specific. Saiki almost wished other people could notice that as well. He supposed if he wanted to make a friend of this girl- get his likability up a bit- he'd have to take charge.

"Do you like the arcade?" Saiki asks her, turning his head to her.

"Yeah. I haven't been there in a while though.." (L/n) smiles and scratches the back of her head "Never have the time or money, haha.. how about you?"

"I used to go alot as a kid. But the games are all really easy now." Saiki shrugs, turning back towards the other boys yelling ahead of them as the arcade approached.

"Is that a challenge?" (L/n) grins. 'This could work perfectly..!'

Saiki smirks, looking at (L/n) at the corner of his eye. "Maybe." This could work perfectly...

"Hah, you're on!" (L/n) laughs as she begins to run ahead, dragging Saiki along by the wrist. Saiki shrugs to himself, letting her drag him along. (L/n) basically bursts into the arcade confidently.  "Alright! You seem confident so I'll let you choose a game."

"Ooh, you two are competing?!" Nendo asks, popping up behind the two "Let us choose the games! That way it'll be fair." He's dumb but he's right. Saiki cringes a bit- they're going to call attention if he wins too much. He'll have to moderate his powers.

"Here, let me choose first!" Kaido interjects. "(Y/n), follow me." His face turns red. 'Maybe she's good at shooting games! If I choose a game that she wins at, m-maybe..' Saiki didn't want to hear anything beyond that. It was pretty easy to see where that was going.

"O-Oh, okay! C'mon, Saiki!" (L/n) beckons as Kaido lead her toward some sort of zombie-shooter game. Generally, they were pretty easy as long as Saiki didn't get startled. Lord knows what happened when he used VR.

(L/n) grins and picks up the blue colored fake gun. "Come on! Longest one alive wins!" She smiles, bending down and inserting 200 yen. Saiki does the same and sets his bag down, picking up the toy gun.. it should be easy to moderate his powers and give her a fair fight here...

...is what he told himself. Saiki didn't necessarily play games like these very often, if ever, because he'll either jump and blow something up or he'll lose and nearly break a controller. Nendo stood behind Saiki basically screaming support in his ear as Kaido stood next to (L/n) with starry eyes.

And Saiki lost. Horribly. By horribly I mean he lasted about a full minute before dying when (L/n) kept going for another 3 just to tease Saiki. Which was fine. N̶o̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶. It was normal to loose at games. He'd just win at the next one so it'd seem normal.

He did not. Kuboyasu chose one of those racing games where the seat is the actual sort of motorcycle itself. The author doesn't need to explain herself here. They're pretty hard to cheat at with esp, but even then- Saiki and (L/n) alike were looking for a fair fight. Which they got. Which lead to Saiki losing horribly.

"Partner, come on, stop losing!" Nendo pats Saiki on the shoulder as he stands up off the seat with a face of- to say the least, discontent.

"Shut up." Saiki glares.

"Not so easy now, huh?!" (L/n) teases, shit-eating grin on her face. Saiki breathes out. He is a patient man. He is not going to get competitive over this. The only one that can beat him is him and he will win the next game.

..Why does he even care?

Kuboyasu chose the last game. It was one of those games where you threw basketballs into a hoop for a certain time limit.

...

...would you be surprised if I told you Saiki lost again?

Saiki huffed as the machine made some stupid loud sound as (L/n) best his score. This time it was not his fault. He is perfectly fine at throwing the balls and would've made all the shots if he wasn't distracted.

He wasn't sure why he was. But for a minute there.. he couldn't take his eyes off (L/n). The way she focused on the game and her face lit up brightly every time she scored...by the time Saiki had realized he was staring he had basically already lost. This wasn't like him to get distracted. Something was off today.

Kaido had pointed out (how horribly Saiki had lost, and-) that they should get going. They'd spent a while at the arcade. Everyone agreed- if reluctantly- and grabbed their bags.

Walking out the arcade and towards there homes Kaido and Nendo continue to bicker- probably about the latest Jump.

"Stop looking so smug." Saiki comments, irritated with the girl.

"Whaaaaat?~" She laughs. "I'll make it up to you. You like sweets?" She asks. Saiki nods (violently) causing (L/n) to laugh. "I've got some coffee jelly back at my apartment. You should stop by."

Saiki nods in agreement- mainly for the coffee jelly, only about 1/8 for (L/n)'s company- as she waves goodbye to the other boys. Her apartment was only a couple blocks from Saiki's place.

"Alright then! Oh, look, they're playing baseball in the park again.. Wonder if Satou's playing." (L/n) points out as the pair pass the baseball diamond along their trek home.

There's a loud 'clang' and an indistinguishable shout before Saiki realizes.

..That the ball hit his head. Right in the power limiter. Shit. If he were alone, he could just teleport home and have his dad or mom try and fix it but (L/n) is right here. He's got one choice, and he's gotta pray that it works...  

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"Saiki!" You screeched, as the boy fell forward and you just ever so barely managed to catch him before he hits the pavement. The ball must've hit him hard.. it even broke one of those hairclips he has. You set him down gently, picking up his bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You slide your arms under him and pick him up, standing slowly.

Jesus Christ. You forgot how heavy guys are. The last time you carried a guy was when (F/n) passed out on field day in middle school. Saiki wasn't heavy necessarily but you weren't necessarily Hairo level strong. You wanted to take him back to his house and tell his parents but there was a small problem.

You had no clue where he lived. At all. You knew he only lived a couple blocks away from you because Kaido told you but you didn't know where. So the best option was to take him back to your apartment.

What became a 10 minute walk home became a 20 minute walk as you struggled to carry the boy. He was knocked out, hard.. whoever hit that ball had to have gotten a home run. You wouldn't be surprised if the guy got two.

So after struggling for 20 minutes, nearly dropping the knocked out boy when you tried to unlock your door, and just generally regretting your decisions, you finally were able to plop the boy on your couch. Your tablet that you generally used for drawing was blown up with notifications from (F/n). Whoops. You set the tablet on your coffee table, calling him as you take the broken hairpin out of Saiki's hair, wanting to fix it.

(F/n) picks up fast, halfway through his English screaming as the connection struggles. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?! I'm losing sleep, woman!"

"I'm sorry!" You laugh, fiddling with the hairpin in your hand. The pink ball on top had come off and some of the pieces on the bottom of the inside fell out. "I was walking home with that Saiki guy and a ball hit him smack in the head. Broke his hairpin and he passed out. I'm trying to fix the hairpin now."

"...And the guy?" (F/n) hesitantly asks.

"Heavy as fuck." You snort. It looked like small computer pieces on the inside but, who are you to judge? The problem was now this was a jigsaw puzzle and you hated those things.

"(Y/n)!" (F/n) shouts, reprimanding you.

"Calm down, he's fine." You smile. "I gotta fix this damn hairpin though and you're gonna do your homework and sleep young man." You jokingly glare into the camera.

"Fine, MOM. Bye!" He waves and hangs up. You lean your back against the couch as you continued to sit on the floor, now too lazy to get up. There was 3 major computer looking chips which by some dumb luck, seemed to fit pretty well in certain spots. They 'click' in pretty easily and the small pink ball fits back on pretty easy.

"Well..that should be about right..!" You smile confidently to yourself as you hold up the hair clip in your vision. You stand slowly and hover over the sleeping boy before gently placing the hairpin back where it once was.

You observe him for a second as you stand up straight again. He looks.. peaceful while sleeping. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't necessarily frowning, either. Content, really. You smile as you take off his green lensed glasses and set them on your coffee table. They'll break if he sleeps in them all the time.

You wander off to your kitchen, finally picking up your school bad and setting it on your dinner table. You grab a snack out of the cabinet and begin looking through your bag, pulling out miscellaneous homework assignments. You catch a glimpse out your window- the sun was already setting..

You hear Saiki in the other room shuffle around as he seems to wake up. You grave a coffee jelly and spoon from your kitchen before wandering over to him.

The strawberry-headed boy had sat up on the couch, eyes looking around confused. Hey, that was a good nickname.

"Hey, Strawberry. You're awake." You grin. He looks up at you confused and you freeze for a second. His eyes..

You didn't usually see his eyes very clearly since, green glasses lenses. Even then you hadn't known him for long. But his eyes... they were a mesmerizing violet color that you couldn't take your eyes off of. Realistically speaking, they were as plain as ever. But for some reason you couldn't help feel your face go red. Who's the strawberry now, motherfucker?

"Where am I?" He asks you.

"My apartment. You knocked the hell out when that baseball hit you and I didn't know where you lived so I carried you here." You hold out the coffee jelly and spoon to him, hoping he'll get the gist. He does and takes the snack faster than you could blink twice.

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Saiki took the coffee jelly from (L/n) greatfully, momentarily forgetting about his limiter that, as far as he last knew, was broken. He had knocked himself out when he was hit for a reason- he figured (L/n) would call one of his friends or someone else to help. He had better luck leaving it up to luck when passed out then staying awake and nearly starting a tsunami cause he breathed wrong.

"Oh, by the way," (L/n) starts, "I tried fixing your hairpin. I tried my best." Saiki looks at her a bit confused before taking out the power limiter, and looking at it carefully...it was put back together just about the exact same way it was before it got hit..

"Thank you." Saiki turns to (L/n). She smiles and nods. 'Oh thank god I didn't fuck up.'

"No problem." She smiles. Saiki loses his train of thought for a second as he watches the girl's face brighten. He turns to set down the now empty coffee jelly cup down on the coffee table. He blinks for a second. His glasses are set on the coffee table.

(L/n) must've taken them off, but why wasn't she turned to stone? She should be frozen in place a long while ago. He picks up his glasses and stands up, putting them over his eyes as he throws away the empty coffee jelly cup.

His mind was racing. Was this girl a physic? Why was she immune to so many of his powers? Why was she kinda cute?

(L/n) interested Saiki. She wasn't affected by nearly any of his powers and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand it confused him highly and made him want to be wary on the girl, but the other part of him was interested in this girl. She was someone who he saw as normal, she wasn't a nusience like the rest of his friends. His chest felt light with an emotion he wasn't quite familiar with. The ever intriguing girl had ignited something in him that he wasn't sure what it was.

"You okay?" She asks as Saiki stands in thought. He hesitates, but smiles. "Hey, Strawberry, it's getting late. Want me to walk you home?" She asks, now with a shit eating grin on her face. Saiki, yes, the strawberry, feels his face turn warm and his heart skip a beat at the nickname. He wasn't sure why. He sighs to himself. He's overthinking things today. His pyrokenisis must be acting up since his limiter was out earlier.

"...Sure..but what's with the nickname?" Saiki asks.

(L/n) shrugs as she stands, walking to her front door and bending down to put her shoes on. "I dunno. It fits."

Saiki sighs at this curious girl and grabs his own shoes, following her out the door.

The two walk in silence as the sun sets, darkening the world around them. (L/n)'s thoughts are generally quiet. 'Fuck, I'm cold. I should've brought a jac- or not?'

Don't get Saiki wrong here. He's only warming her up cause he feels bad. They continue to walk in silence, until they stop in front of Saiki's house.

"This is my h-" Before Saiki can finish his sentence none other than is mother, Kurumi Saiki, comes out the front door, fretful about her son.

"Oh, Ku~chan! Where have you been, I was so worried!" Kurumi frets as she hugs her son close. Saiki sighs and squints his eyes at (L/n), who has a shit-eating grin. Kurumi turns around and spots (L/n). "Oh, and who is this lovely lady?" She asks excitedly. Saiki about rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

"I'm (L/n)! I apologize for keeping your son out for so long. He passed out when we were walking home so I took him home cause I didn't know where you lived." (L/n) scratches the back of her head awkwardly. Kurumi's face lights up.

Saiki cringes as his mother pulls the poor girl into a hug. "Aah, thank you for looking after my boy you're just so sweet I'm his mom Kurumi Saiki thank you so much for befriending him!" Kurumi gushes so quickly the author forgot to write punctuation.

(L/n) finally gets to breathe again when Kurumi lets go of the hug. "It's nothing, really," She smiles. "He's cool."

Kurumi starts to gush once more when (L/n) laughs awkwardly. "You're really sweet, Mrs. Saiki, but I have to get going."

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry for keeping you! Have a good night." Kurumi smiles.

"It's alright. Bye!" (L/n) smiles as she walks off into the night. He walks inside with his mother and takes off his shoes before walking to his room, sighing as he sits at his desk.

Why does he have such a headache..?

.

i apologize for any spelling errors! i’ve been writing without my glasses because i’ve been sick

#saiki k #saiki k x reader #my writing #fanfic #this is still really bad #but we're trying our best here #saiki kusuo no psi nan

[omnivorousshipper]

12 Days of Shobbs: Day Two- Scarves

Summary:  This is a serious of prompts following the relationship between Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw through the twelve days of Christmas.

Day 1     Day 3

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… 

“Reminder to self: never visit Canada in the winter ever again,” Luke mumbled to himself as he got out of his truck and landed in almost a foot of snow. Sighing, he trudged through the unblemished snow towards the other vehicles sitting in the clearing. There were three other large trucks and SUVs, with several DSS agents milling around them, setting up equipment.

Heading towards them, Luke tugged his hat further over his ears and tried to ignore the strong wind trying to knock him off his feet. Reaching some of the techies, he could see that they were struggling to keep the equipment snow free.

“Hey!” He called out to the agents. “Who’s in charge here?” “I suppose that’s me,” a woman stepped forward. She was about a head shorter than Luke and wearing at least four layers of clothing. She didn’t bother to offer her hand to shake, instead keeping it in her pocket while she introduced herself. “I’m Agent Mou. Nice to meet you Agent Hobbs.”

“Same to you, ma’am. So what’s the game plan?”

“I don’t want to start the brief until your partner arrives.”

“Partner? What partner? I was told I would be doing this solo,” Luke asked, staring at the smaller woman, eyebrows furrowed. 

“We thought so too, but your superior, Mr. Nobody, contacted us and said he was sending another agent,” Mou shrugged. She was shifting from one foot to the other, no doubt trying to stay warm. 

“Of course he called,” Luke muttered to himself. Turning back to Mou, he asked, “Anything you want me to do right now?”

“Unless you know how to hack closed camera systems from five miles away, no Agent Hobbs, I don’t need you to do anything right now,” Mou said irritatedly. “We’ll brief you and supply you with the equipment you’ll need when your partner arrives.”

With that, Mou stormed off, having to lift her feet all the way off the ground just to walk through the high snow. Sighing, Luke couldn’t fault the woman’s irritability; she was running an operation while it was below freezing, enough snow to make an army of snowmen, and now she was forced to add yet another agent to the equation, without knowing if she could trust either Hobbs or his mysterious partner. Deciding to try to stay on the woman’s good side, Luke stood close enough to the trucks to be shielded from the harsh wind, but far enough away so as not to be in the way. 

After ten minutes of Luke practically feeling his fingers lose feeling, he finally saw another vehicle pull up. It was military grade, and looked as if it could drive through four feet of snow with how tall the wheels were. Luke watched the car park close to them and the driver step out.

Well, the person looked more like a marshmallow on legs with a large, white coat on. Squinting, Luke could also see a grey scarf the size of a blanket wrapped around the person’s neck, obscuring their face further. As the person came closer, Luke could see that their black beanie had small cat ears on the top and a cat nose and whiskers on the front of the hat. Luke just stared at them until they were close enough for Luke to hear them.

“Nobody said you’d need help,” Deckard Shaw grunted. “Didn’t mention we’d be doing the job in Jack Frost’s arsehole.”

“Frankly, I don’t know why the hell he called you in,” Luke said, still a bit dazed at seeing Deckard. “But it makes sense that he would send an elf to the north pole.”

“Get bent, you tosser,” the smaller man grumbled, and seemed to burrow further into the giant scarf that hid most of his face.

Before Luke could say something in kind, he heard snow crunching and turned his head to see Agent Mou heading towards him and Deckard. The cold didn’t seem to be agreeing with her by the pissed off look on her face. 

“About time you showed up. We’re almost half an hour late. If we’re supposed to get this done before sunset, then I suggest you two stop the little tea party you’re having, and get your asses over here,” she snapped at the two men. 

“Sorry, miss. Took longer than I thought to get out here,” Deckard apologized politely.

“I don’t care why, just follow me. I need to brief both of you,” Mou angrily told them. Deckard and Luke shared a look with each other before falling in step behind Mou as she led them to a tent that had been set up. The inside just barely fit the three and another agent, who was rapidly putting items into two packs. 

“Ok, you two, here’s the deal. Your target is this,” Mou showed them an image on her tablet. It was a small missile, one that could fit perfectly in Luke’s hand. “This was developed by an American weaponsmith for the U.S. army, but only a handful were actually made. It was made to destroy up to a 200 mile radius, destroying everything around, even underground bunkers. A small terrorist cell was able to get their hands on one. We need you two go in and retrieve it.” 

“Simple enough,” Luke commented. 

“Glad you think that, Hobbs,” Mou responded dryly. Quickly, she brought up the blueprints of a large storage building. “We were able to get the rough layout of their hideout, but we don’t know much else. Nothing about how many guys there are, or what kind of weapons they have. I’ve had my boys prepare you enough ammunition to take down any stronghold, along with a device to block any electrical signals from being sent out.”

“Like Hobbs said, this shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Deckard said.

“Never thought I’d ever hear you agreeing with me,” Luke said, an eyebrow raised at Deckard, who was glaring back at him.

“Since you two seem to know what you’re doing,” Mou interrupted, “Then I encourage you two to leave. Now.”

Taking the hint, Deckard and Luke took the packs from the other agent and made their way outside.

“We’re taking my car,” Deckard announced, not bothering to look at Luke.

“Fine. But I’m driving.”

“When hell freezes over, jackass.”

Climbing into the passenger side of Deckard’s car, Luke couldn’t help but stare at the other man. It had been only a week ago that the other man had placed a kiss on Luke. And Luke still wasn’t sure what to feel about it. The entire time during that mission, Luke couldn’t get the kiss out of his mind, and it seemed like this mission was going to be about the same.

“Got something to say, Hobbs?” Deckard snapped, after a few minutes of silence, and a couple dozen of side glances from Luke. 

“Just wondering what in the living hell you’re wearing, is all,” Luke shrugged. 

“Owen and a few of his mates went to Switzerland for a ski trip, and he took a lot of my snow gear. The little arsehole,” Deckard mumbled the last part mostly to himself. 

“And you just happened to own a hat with a cat face?”

“Present from my mum. She thought it looked cute,” Deckard rolled his eyes. 

“It sure is,” Luke snorted. “It fits well with the stuck up princess look you have going.”

“I know it must be hard for your walnut-sized brain to understand this, but I could easily leave your arse out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Luke challenged. 

“Just keep pushing, sunshine.”

Luke chuckled at the threat. They were quiet for a time, with Luke staring out at the snowy landscape, and Deckard navigating the car through it. Unfortunately, Luke couldn’t enjoy the view, instead his mind going back to the kiss. 

“I swear I can see the smoke coming out of your ears right now,” Deckard chuckled. “You’re going to hurt yourself thinking that hard.”

“Very funny, asshole,” Luke rolled his eyes. Looking over at the smaller man, he decided to take a leap of faith. “I was just wondering. Why did you kiss me back at the base?”

He saw Deckard’s hands tighten on the wheel and his mouth pull down into a frown. “We were under the mistletoe. Don’t read into it.”

“I told you, you didn’t have to. But you still did. So, why did-”

“Look, just drop it,” Deckard snapped, interrupting Luke. “We’re at the drop point. We need to walk from here.”

Which meant that they would be walking in the strong wind, making it impossible for them to hold a conversation. Sighing, Luke followed the other man.

The plan was for them to park a short distance away from the facility, walk the rest of the way, and sneak in. From there, they would split up and each look for the missile on their own. All they needed to do was not to alert the guards, so it should have been an easy job. 

Unfortunately, alert the guards was the only thing Luke seemed to do. When Mou had said that they had no idea how many guards there were, she hadn’t been joking. Every corner Luke went around had at least five guys, each armed to the teeth. It was inevitable that he would alert one of them.

That’s how he found himself in a massive gun fight, hiding behind a random pile of boxes in one of the main rooms of the facility. Bullets were flying past where he was hiding, slowly chipping away at his cover. Luke knew that his shelter was either going to be demolished or he was going to run out of ammunition. And he was sure that the former of the two was going to happen soon, because he only had one more clip left. 

Cursing his luck, Luke put the final clip in his gun, and quickly popped out from his cover. He was able to hit three assailants, but as soon as one went down, two more took their place. Out of options, Luke desperately looked around, trying to find an escape route, but found nothing. Before despair could overwhelm him, Luke heard a yell over the gunfire. 

“Hobbs!”  Came a distinct voice shouted. “Down!”

And it was almost predictable what happened next. While Luke wasn’t exactly expecting it, he wasn’t surprised to hear the sound of a small grenade go off in the middle of the guards shooting at him. In the confusion of the blast, the bullets stopped, allowing Luke to duck out from his cover. Spotting Deckard on the other side of the room fighting three guards, Luke started heading towards him, trying to find a gun for himself on the way.

Having no luck finding a gun, Luke was forced to fight off the guys that came between him and Deckard. After taking down ten of them, Luke finally reached Deckard, who was missing his large coat, but still had his hat and scarf. Other than the missing coat, Deckard was only slightly panting, almost as if he hadn’t taken down twenty trained men in the last ten minutes, and had only gone for a short jog in the park. 

“Did you get the missile?” Luke hurriedly asked. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I got it,”Deckard huffed and showed Luke a small case, presumably carrying the missile. 

“Good. We need to get out,” Luke looked around them, spotting a side door, that was being guarded by thirty or so men. “You got any extra guns on you?”

“Yeah. Here,” Deckard responded. Reaching into his scarf, he pulled out a pair of silver revolvers from the folds of his scarf. “They’re already loaded.”

“How the hell?” Luke whispered to himself, but took the guns nonetheless. Shaking his head, Luke chalked it up to Deckard being an ex-MI6 agent. “Come on, there’s an exit over there.”

Together, they slowly made their way towards the exit, back to back, and taking shots at anyone that came at them. Even though Luke couldn’t see it, he could hear Deckard take down several men that tried to rush them. Trusting Deckard’s abilities, Luke focused on the men coming his way. 

After what felt like hours, they finally broke through the wall of men, and outside. It was only a short jog to Deckard’s car, and they were speeding away. Looking out the side mirror, Luke was surprised not to see any vehicles chasing them.

“Where are they?” Luke asked aloud.

“I might’ve blown up all their snowmobiles,” Deckard laughed, giving Luke a toothy grin.

“You fucking pyromaniac!” Luke laughed. 

Soon enough, they were back at the base camp, handing the missile over to Mou. Who gave them a few choice words over their fairly explosive retrieval of it. After a short reprimand and praise for getting the missile out successfully, she sent them on their way.

“Hey. Thanks for the guns,” Luke said, as he and Deckard walked through the flurry of agents dismantling equipment. Holding the guns out to the smaller man, Luke was surprised when Deckard instead pushed Luke’s hand away.

“Keep ‘em. ,” Deckard shrugged. 

“You sure?” Luke asked, not a small amount of confusion in his voice.

“I know you like Chiappa Rhino guns. So just keep them.”

“Thanks, man,” Luke said graciously. They were standing in front of Deckard’s car, as Luke took in the other man. Deckard’s face was flushed red from the cold, and he had a small smile on his face.

“Don’t mention it. You need all the help you can get, twinkletoes,” Deckard said, his smile growing. Luke help but smile back before something popped back into his head. 

“Hey. You never answered my question.”

“What?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“Just drop it, Hobbs,” Deckard sighed. Swiftly, he was in his car and slamming the door in Luke’s face. 

“Oh come on! Just answer me!” Luke shouted after Deckard’s speeding car.

… Two loaded guns

And a punch to the face!

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #fanfic #christmas fics #scarves #fluff #12 days of christmas

[finsterhund]

Plush Dog Scarf - Little Boy Gift

The lockdown here is in full swing. There’s lineups for all the essential stores still open, the post office is giving me special privileges because I’m considered an at-risk individual, and there’s a shortage of the medicine I need to breathe. So it’s been pretty stressful.

Paper Beast has been like, the only thing (alongside Heart of Darkness of course) that’s been keeping my mind active in a constructive way. But due to the fact that I can’t play video games for ten hours a day due to my chronic pain and how long periods of wearing the headset are hard on my eyes, I can’t just entirely retreat into the world of origami critters and never leave until the crisis is over like I’d want to.

You’d think that since my normal daily life is already “stay in your room bored out of your mind, never go out, have nothing to do” that I’d be used to this. And while I’m prepared for this and have a better handle on my anxiety surrounding the pandemic, I am certainly not adequately prepared. It feels like there’s a looming disaster yet also an insurmountable tiredness. It’s also sobering to find out that there are provincial-wide shortages of ventalin and I had to go to a different pharmacy just to get only the rescue inhaler for the time being. That has made me realize just how serious things are getting. It’s weird seeing the general populous as concerned about catching things as me. I’m laughing a lot at these events, but it’s not a humorous laugh. It’s an anxious venting fear laugh.

The point I’m trying to get at is that the lockdown is driving me to the depraved edges of my mind, which generally means writing about the Heart of Darkness deaths (which I have trouble writing in general right now) drawing stupid jokes (which my tablet is currently misplaced due to rearranging my entire room to play Paper Beast) and my weird fixations I get onto hobbies that orbit me like some tiny lopsided moon that show up for months at a time, disappear again, then smack me in the face within the next ten to twelve months.

I designed a fictional version of myself, currently named Cayden (who I have shown already) that I lowkey am thinking to have be a member of Andy’s class or something, who gets to run around having adventures with Spot, wear all the 90s clothes that I can find in vintage children’s catalogs, and get killed by the Master of Darkness. Fun stuff.

At some point I’ve also been retreating into the whole beanie babies thing again, and discovered to my excitement the subject of this post.

Someone made a scarf out of Spot.

And I’ve been memeing it up on twitter because the listing looked like this:

As can already be garnered from the listing, the insistence that this scarf is in fact for a little boy meant that I immediately started joking that it was “the perfect gift for me” and that I needed it because I was “the greatest little boy in all of Canada” both statements of which are true.

I also decided that because in Cayden’s time turning a beanie baby that was valued anywhere between $50 and $200 (yes) USD into a scarf would be such a superfluous flex and spit in the face of collectors that I just had to have him wear it.

And after much descent into madness and deciding that my Andy cosplay bandanna didn’t deserve to be my makeshift facemask as the person who made it for me disappeared off the planet so getting it replaced would be a long and arduous task I decided after seeing so many people wearing scarves in the Costco to finally get the famous Plush Dog Scarf - Little Boy Gift and fulfill the madness-induced prophecy.

This is mine now. When will it arrive? No idea.

I have also been trying to get my friends to buy scarves like these (there are MORE) but it’s a luxury item people can’t afford. I get that. I mostly got it because of the joke and because my old scarf is falling apart (the red one in case you remember it) and because the lockdown has been slowly driving me insane.

Spot’s squeaky steak (or rather one just like it I found on the internet) arrived yesterday but was filled with such an awful permeating aura of ancient mold that I had to clean it or immediately die so I spent much of today cleaning it out with vinegar. I think it works. Now it just hurts my breath because of the smell of vinegar. I held a flashlight to it and there’s no mold inside. Any more tips to kill mold inside a vintage dog toy would be appreciated.

Spot’s squeak steak is also a lot smaller than I expected it to be. Which i shouldn’t be surprised by because if my hands hadn’t grown since I was a toddler there would most certainly be problems. But it is weird. My hands are so big now. Strong.

I also have finally photoshopped my magnificent creation known as Negaspot into digital existence. Negaspot is possible, but requires cutting off Spot’s head and putting it onto the body of another beanie baby which is a bit too insane and deranged for me at this point in time, I would hope that I do not stoop to this level of depravity.

One would morn the loss of a perfectly good Spot if Negaspot were to be brought into existence and made flesh. A headless Spot would be forced to suffer the crimes of an unfeeling god. I don’t think I could live with these consequences after the virus has passed.

Perhaps the headless body of this Spot could be attached to the end of another Spot, creating an eight-legged extra long DoubleSpot. Two crimes against beanie baby god for the price of one! The price of which would be literally under 5 dollars because beanie babies are worth nothing now except for Spot without a spot who mark my words I will get someday. If we are putting two Spots together perhaps we could give Negaspot the tail of the front of DoubleSpot, alleviating the problem of a wasted tail. These are normal things that perfectly healthy and well-adjusted children think about.

If I create Negaspot, send help.

On the topic of spots, I am still very sad I had to postpone the Spot party, as I have gotten her a ton of presents that are now sitting in my room waiting for the party. I did get her a chew rope for the time being as a “sorry we had to cancel your party” gift but it’s not the same man! I want to have that party!

A thought has crossed my mind that when I am in a better state of mind and can therefore judge better if this is a wise use of my time and resources, is that I should commission the creator of Plush Dog Scarf - Little Boy Gift to create a super long, like excessively long, unnecessarily long, Spot Scarf. That was I can give Spot the Plush Dog Scarf - Little Boy Gift and I can have one that is more decidedly an abomination and an affront against the laws of nature.

Since I figure I am providing you all with a lot of unnecessary information, I feel the need to let everybody know that in Paper Beast there is a big plant-serpent looking creature that eats everything that crosses its path called, and I quote, Voraxo.

Just a nice little tidbit of information. Make of it what you will.

#text post #useless information #beanie babies #spot the dog #negaspot #cayden #long post #update

[fuwafuwamedb]

Six Months of Waiting Pt 2 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Ereshkigal, Ishtar)

The moment that the god returned, Hakuno was already itching by the gates, looking passed the path to where the goddess Ninsun was waiting.

She was so close. After all this time waiting, she could go up to the surface and see Gilgamesh again. They could resume what they had been enjoying together, without the process of courtship this time. She couldn’t wait to show him what she had made for him while she had been waiting. The cloak was carefully hidden away in the depths of her bag-

“Hakuno!”

Hakuno jumped, glancing back to see Ereshkigal following her.

“M-mother? What’s this?”

“You were so excited,” she explained. “I thought it might be fun for us to go together to the human realm. I can spend a month or so in my temple with you.”

She… she was coming?

Over the course of the past six months, she hadn’t breathed a word about what had made her so upset to leave the human realm, but her mother had been worried. Each day, the woman had happily accepted blessing Gilgamesh and Uruk, allowing her to see the humans of Uruk to their proper afterlife fates.

To think that her mother had thought to come with her though…

“What about Dumuzi?”

“That is what the other underworld gods are for.” Ereshkigal motioned behind them, to where Dumuzi was being dragged off already. “Let’s go!”

The blonde held her hand, smiling as they bounced up the path to Ninsun’s side.

The goddess glanced between them before simply smiling.

“So it is to be a visit like that then, Ereshkigal?”

“It will be wonderful to see the city of Uruk again,” Ereshkigal told her. “Hakuno fell in love deeply with your son’s city. She wept this whole time apart from it.”

A pair of red eyes flickered back to them and Hakuno sighed.

“Ereshkigal.”

“Yes?”

The goddess smiled. “Have you thought about suitors for your Hakuno. As the goddess Geshtianna, she will need to consider continuing her life at someone’s side.”

“A suitor?” the goddess frowned. “Hakuno is too young and innocent for a suitor. She would fall for anyone at her age. She should wait until… Perhaps 200? I think that may help her be wise.”

Was her face burning or the warmth of Utu’s sun just getting to her?

“I was thinking about my Gilgamesh for her,” Ninsun offered in a honeyed voice.

“Your son has slept with more women than a vast majority of men in the human world combined sleep with in a lifetime. He can’t be trusted with my-“

“He’s experienced, yes, but he is capable. There won’t be any doubts about whether or not he could perform his duties as a suitor and husband.”

Husband?

The thought had her thinking coming to a halt. To think that she would be bound to him in ways entirely foreign, catering to his whims and fancy; she wasn’t sure about that.

“Absolutely not. In fact, if Hakuno continues to not see him, she’ll be best off. He will ruin Uruk for her.”

“Ummum,” Hakuno warned, but the goddess Ninsun turned, crossing her arms and scowling further.

“Your daughter is not almighty.”

“And your son is pursued by Ishtar. I cannot lose my daughter because your son is a pleasuring king.”

“You could speak to your sister-“

“And tell her what? She will not hear of this, Ninsun. I’d be mocked the entire way out of her palace and Hakuno would suffer. I won’t let that happen.”

Hakuno looked between them, noting Ninsun giving her a small, subtle wave to go as she loomed over Ereshkigal.

“My son could care for your child.”

“Care?”

Hakuno turned, hurrying along to the gates of Uruk.

She didn’t look anywhere but towards the great palace ahead. Her feet took the stairs to the ziggurat two at a time, her heart meanwhile pounding a strict staccato against her chest.

“Geshtianna!”

She didn’t bother looking to see the woman trying to greet her. She could see the king and he was so tired looking.

His hair had grown forth, his hands firmly on the tablet in front of him as he read quietly. At the sound of her running, she could see his head lifting up, those eyes catching sight of her and widening.

There was no stopping her.

Six months of waiting had turned into a rush of pure adrenaline, her hands grabbing his head upon her great leaps and bounds to him. Her mouth crushed against his, his tablet smashing loudly against the ground before there was a grip on her body. She could feel him kissing her hard, feel his hands in her hair as she tossed her bag to the side of the throne and continued to kiss him.

Air was unimportant.

Anyone else was unimportant.

“I… I came… straight here… as soon as I was free,” Hakuno told him.

“You did.” He was holding her face in his hands. She could still feel the stubble from his face. It must have rubbed against her too much while she was kissing him.

“You’re so much hairier than before,” she marveled.

“Oh? And you’ve gotten so plain,” he countered.

“I brought you something-“

“Gilgamesh!”

The king stiffened under her, looking around her to the person that had spoken. Hakuno followed suit, her eyes widening as Ishtar stood in the audience chamber with them.

Ishtar was powerful.

In and of herself, she was someone of great strength and unrelenting imagination for punishment. She’d heard Ereshkigal lament before. She’d seen the men that the woman twisted and curled around her fingers, conditioning them well before she severed their connection to her.

She could make the moon vanish, the sun hide upon its great path across the skies.

She could make the lives of anyone that crossed her one of great suffering.

“I do believe you were falling for me, King Gilgamesh,” Ishtar stated, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

“What need would I have for a useless goddess?”

“I’m not sure. You’re holding one in your arms from my sniffling sister.”

The man laughed, clearly out of his mind. Hakuno could feel her mind reeling. She needed to do something, show respect for the woman or some symbol of peace between them, but there was nothing available to her here.

“I have no need for you, Ishtar. In fact, the day your patronage to my city ends, the happier I will be.”

“The woman in your arms can’t even stay on the earth.” She smirked, “she is bound to the underworld, to those of the grotesque and deformed.”

“Then it would seem we finally have something in common,” Gilgamesh replied. “Our lovers and spouses are in rotation in the underworld.”

“Dumuzi means nothing.”

“Then you share far more in common with him than one would expect.”

He was going to get her mad.

Hakuno felt her fists clench against the king a bit more as she tried desperately to find words.

“You would require my sister’s blessing for her,” Ishtar pointed out.

“Your sister blesses me every day, from what her temple priests tell me. A great admission to her blessings by my respect back through the love I give her child would be far greater than that of any other.”

“You cannot marry a goddess except the patron goddess!”

Gilgamesh’s hands were in her hair now, as Hakuno found him pressing his lips to her temple.

“Won’t she be something, Ishtar? Imagine it, a patron goddess who saved Uruk from a four-month drought that starved the neighboring kingdoms; one who rescued the livestock that had escaped months ago and had already gone passed the limits of Uruk.”

Ishtar stormed from the room.

In her wake, Hakuno could only sit on the king’s lap, finding his whiskered face kissing her again.

“You were saying that you bore gifts,” the king purred.

“Ishtar will-“

“Don’t speak of her. She may come back just because of it. Show me your gift.”

She didn’t like it. She had a feeling in her gut that this would not end well, but her thoughts went to her cloak for the king and she faltered.

She reached into her bag, pulling the crimson fabric from within. It’s gold and navy pattern gleamed in the light of the room, matching the jewelry that he already wore around his neck.

“This material-“

“It’s made from the flock of the sheep that the gods keep,” Hakuno told him, “and dyed with the minerals found by the rivers of the underworld. It’s to bring health and protection.”

He laughed, nodding and looking closer.

He was picking at the thread.

“I’m not good at sewing, but I had some time-“

“Do not assume my thoughts,” he chastised.

The cloak was wrapped around her, being used to pull her in further.

Their lips met again.

“My smitten minor goddess,” he purred. “What am I to do with you?”

Hopefully protect her from the ire of her mother and aunt, Hakuno thought, sighing against him.

Six months away from the king had only ruined the walls she’d carefully built to keep her emotions in check.

One look at him and she’d remembered why it was so important to finish her gift for him.

His smile was more miraculous and stunning than the sun.

#drabble #drabbles