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phantomrose96 · 4 years

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Twisting Fate

(A what-if idea I had. adjusted the canon timeline a little)

...

From Recovery Girl’s perspective, Sir Nighteye was a horizon.

Lying stiff in his hospital bed, with the setting sun creeping lower at his right, Nighteye’s whole body became ridges of shadows. His face was gaunter, paler at the precipice of death. Caverns hid his eyes, and every sharp angle of his frame threw swaths of shadow, magnified larger, over the left wall of his room. Machines like snakes clawed into his midsection, all cold metallic tubes replacing the functions of organs that had been shredded through. Recovery Girl sat on a stool to his left, shaded in this darkness, smelling on the heat of the radiator the familiar smell of death.

“I have… a theory…” Nighteye’s words were hardly even whispers. They were stow-away nuances on the raspy rattle of his breath. “…and it will bother me if I die without ever having resolved it.”

“What’s your theory?” Recovery Girl asked. She was too used to this, being the receptacle for the last thoughts, wonders, worries, and dreams of dying heroes.

“Izuku Midoriya… He may--…it is possible—he may have a quirk.”

“A quirk, as in one beside One For All, I assume.”

“Not One For All. Beyond that. His own quirk. I have a theory…”

“Izuku Midoriya was diagnosed quirkless. Does this affect your theory?”

Silence rattled around them. Nighteye’s chest rose and fell faintly. “As in… the vestigial joint in the smallest toe, and no observable quirk of his own?”

“Yes, he matches those criteria,” Recovery Girl confirmed.

Sir Nighteye said nothing in immediate response. He laid in silence to catch his breath, and let the room fall back under the sedation of his blipping heart monitor.

“The correlation… of the additional toe joint to quirklessness is about 99%. It is possible for Midoriya to still have a quirk.”

“That is true.” The lamp in the corner clicked on, softly yellow, blanketing the room as the creeping darkness of nighttime set in. “We don’t know how many cases of quirklessness are false positives. What is it that makes you think Midoriya has a quirk?”

Nighteye let out a rattling breath. “By my own nature, and the nature of my quirk… I take pride in having evidence for my claims. I’d like to investigate this before I tell you. …The doctors estimate they can keep me alive like this for three days, at most. Do you think that’s accurate?”

“Three and a half, now that I’ve healed you some,” Recovery Girl answered.

“That’s enough. There’s someone I’d like you to fetch for me.”

“All Might.”

“No,” Nighteye answered with the faintest shake of his head. “Shota Aizawa. He should be in this same hospital. Please bring him to me.”

…

Aizawa and Nighteye spoke only briefly, with an agreement to help, and a message to pass along. Two messages, more precisely.

Aizawa got himself released from the hospital by 6am the next morning, having not slept, and having pulled some strings with the night nurses who knew him well to expedite the process. By 7am, he was back at the U.A. dorms, the very atmosphere asleep this early on a Saturday morning.

Only two students were awake: Momo Yaoyorozu, reading comfortably on the common area couch with a blanket swaddled around her, and Tenya Iida, preparing enough toast in the kitchen to cover breakfast for the entire class.

It was Iida who Aizawa flagged, and pulled aside, and passed the message along to: There was a dying pro hero whom Iida had never met asking for his presence. Aizawa had no further details on what the man wanted, or why, and he knew Nighteye well enough to assume that neither he nor Iida would ever be informed.

The lack of information agitated Iida. His arms jittered, and he pressed for information on why, and what had happened, and what his presence would mean to Nighteye. Aizawa could only shrug and ask if the withholding of that information affected Iida’s answer. Iida paused to consider this only briefly. And then he agreed, of course, because any self-respecting hero-in-training would do everything in his power to satisfy the dying wish of a citizen.

…

When Sunday set in, Aizawa did not go prowling through the dorm areas until the early afternoon, because the other message he had to pass along was for Katsuki Bakugou, and Bakugou’s whole morning was booked solid with provisional license training.

When Aizawa found Bakugou, the boy was freshly showered and sporting a litany of new scrapes and bandages, thumbs jamming aggressively into one of the dorm’s three console controllers for the shared GameStation. From the neighboring couch, Kirishima yelled at Bakugou to not mess us the toggles, to which Bakugou fired off several choice, colorful words back.

Aizawa didn’t bother scolding him. He only pulled Bakugou aside, and gave him the same message as Iida: Pro Hero Nighteye wanted to see him.

Bakugou sneered at this. He knew the name as Deku’s work-study boss, and knew it more potently now that the recent news story broke, and Nighteye’s name made it to the local stations as a hero in critical condition after a daring rescue.

Bakugou asserted this had nothing to do with him. That none of this was his problem. That he owed nothing to a man he’d never met and shouldn’t be expected to bow to his whim. Aizawa said nothing in response. He let the silence linger, and let Bakugou fester in the echo of his own words. Bakugou cracked the silence with a growl of frustration, and a crackle of his palms, and a spat declaration of “fine”.

Aizawa thanked him for his cooperation, and asked if now would be a bad time to follow him to Nighteye’s hospital.

…

By the third day of his hospice stay, Nighteye had become more machine than man. He fostered little presence. His only motion came from the respirator breathing for him. His harsh angles and stark shadows had decayed, softened, sank with him into his very-little-at-all-ness into the bed.

Recovery Girl sat beside him once more. In theory she had come to change bandages and administer healing, but at the sight of the man, she knew even that much was not worthwhile. It was only Nighteye’s comfort that mattered now. She set up an IV drip to ease his breathing and pain, but it would not heal him. At best, it would offer him just a wisp of his voice back.

“Have you resolved your theory about Izuku Midoriya’s quirk?” she asked simply. It was another skill she’d fostered in her professional life – to ask the leading questions of dying people, who in death seemed so strangely prone to avoiding any direct answers.

To her surprise, Nighteye smiled.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Yes. You are the only person right now I trust with this information. I need to pass it along, and I have no one else in mind.”

“And once you’ve told me, should I tell Midoriya too?”

“I don’t know. I trust you to figure that out, if it’s right or not.”

“What’s Midoriya’s quirk?”

Nighteye said nothing at first. He stared at the ceiling, as it seemed he possessed little of the necessary strength to look elsewhere.

“During the fight against Overhaul… I saw Midoriya die. I saw it with my Foresight,” he said, not answering the direct question, which did little to surprise Recovery Girl. “My Foresight has never been wrong. Sometimes, purely in denial, I’ve convinced myself it could, theoretically, be wrong, if only to not feel so hopeless about the futures I’ve seen. But 35 years without a single incorrect prediction is… a devastatingly consistent precedent to contend with.”

“I know this about you. Midoriya was the first to change that future?”

“It was… Chisaki’s future… that I was looking at. I saw him kill Midoriya. I saw him escape. So it was Chisaki’s future that changed. And I suspected, the more I thought about it, that Midoriya may have done it.”

“What do you think his quirk is?”

“I… have more context… I want to explain myself. I asked Shota Aizawa to bring me two U.A. students.”

“Iida and Bakugou. Shota told me.”

“Iida, because, if my hunch was correct, he would be affected too. And he was. My hunch was correct.”

“What was your hunch?”

“When I used my Foresight on him, I saw something I’ve never seen before… All futures I’ve seen are linear. A movie to play out. Singular, immutable, and certain. What I saw in Iida was more like… tree branches twisting around a trunk. One which was strong, and bold, and most clear ahead of him. Like what I usually see. It was a bright and happy future. A future he’s earned. One to be proud of.”

“I’m glad. Tenya Iida is a kind boy.”

“But the small futures… I’ve never seen them before. All gnarled and withered, twisting in and out…. Most of those were empty. I see this when someone is soon to die, but… these looked as though Iida had already died. Several times over. Other small twisted ones… he was still alive, but not a hero, not a U.A. graduate, too heavily incapacitated. No use of his arms. Limited use of his legs.”

“And what does this tell you?”

Nighteye offered just wheezes, catching his breath.

“With… with Bakugou. It was similar but... Bakugou had many more gnarled branches than Iida. Some empty… Others where, it seemed he had never even gotten into U.A. Others as the League of Villains’ hostage. Others in jail. They were not uniform. Some were faint, so I could hardly detect them. Some were so far removed from our reality, as if they’d forked over a decade ago. …Do not worry, his main future is bright.”

“I know All Might has a lot of hope for that boy.” Recovery Girl pushed off her stool. She went and cracked the hospital window open, so that the fresh air may do something for the sweat coalescing on Nighteye’s brow.

“Izuku Midoriya… I know many things about him. Gathering intel is a specialty of mine. And I know he has been lucky in unfathomable ways. Bakugou, that boy, he saved from the League of Villains. Iida, he saved from Stain, just barely, as I understand it. Midoriya’s own acceptance into U.A. was improbable at best. His rescue of a boy named Kota should have been his end, but it wasn’t. He was involved in a fight against the serial killer Moon Fish. He was Shigaraki’s hostage briefly. He played the main role in orchestrating Bakugou’s rescue from the League of Villains. And now, under me, he defeated Chisaki, in a fight which should, with certainty, have cost him his life.”

“There’s no need to remind me of all these. I was the one who healed that boy every time. I know he’s reckless.”

“This is beyond reckless. This is the resume of a boy who should have died many times over. …And I think, maybe, he has.”

To this, Recovery Girl gave no immediate response. Only a deep inhale, nasally, a held breath, an exhale.

“Midoriya may have died already. My Foresight wasn’t wrong, but it was posthumously corrected. It is in the strange nature of Izuku Midoriya that when the people around him should die… they don’t. Midoriya always saves them. And if my Foresight is to be believed, he does not always succeed on the first try. Those gnarled branches into Iida and Bakugou’s futures were fates in which Midoriya had not intervened. Or had failed to intervene successfully. They were fates he was able to twist off the main path, and correct under his own power of will. And that would be a quirk nigh undetectable. How would you document or observe it? The ability to undo the outcomes that ended in disaster. It’s powerful. Unfathomably powerful, if I’m correct about this. Stronger than One for All could ever be. I wonder, if I were to look at Midoriya’s future, how many twisted fates might I see?”

Recovery Girl let her eyes shift to the window, contemplating the skyline, contemplating all the near-lethal encounters Izuku Midoriya had fought through. She tried to process this possibility, and found herself failing to take it in all at once. “Do you intend to look?”

“No,” Nighteye said, and it was with finality. “I won’t make it to tomorrow. And there’s someone else whose future I need to see today.”

“If it’s All Might, I would be able to--.”

“No. It’s not All Might’s.”

To this, Recovery Girl startled. Her eyes shifted to Night Eye, who wore the smallest of smiles, his eyes squinted shut.

“After what you saw six years ago… you don’t want to see if that fate has changed?”

“All Might and I have parted ways. I am choosing to entrust his safety to Izuku Midoriya now. I am choosing to trust that that boy has saved him from that future that’s weighed me down for all these years. I am choosing… to pass the torch onto him. All Might has chosen Izuku Midoriya, and I am at peace with it… No, more than that, I accept that. I am content with that. I am happy with that.”

Recovery Girl nodded, but trepidation stiffened her movements. “…Then who is the last person you want to see?”

…

With the light fading around him, Nighteye wondered if this was the first time he’s seen Mirio cry.

The boy was endlessly bright, endlessly shining, a beacon and a pillar and someone who Nighteye was proud to call his pupil. He felt only the slightest knocking pangs of guilt in his chest for the fact that he’d only connected with Mirio as a vessel for One For All. But Mirio had proven himself well above and beyond all Nighteye’s paltry expectations. He didn’t need One For All to be strong.

The true guilt Nighteye felt was in the knowledge that it was his own fault that Mirio was crying now.

Thick opalescent tears swam in his eyes and cracked his voice. Red blotched along his cheeks and sweat clung to his brow. It was a sad sight to see, the raw and wet keens of Mirio’s voice. It was sad. Nighteye wanted nothing more than to see Mirio smile once more.

So he set a gentle palm to Mirio’s cheek, and he apologized, and he blinked his final activation of his quirk into existence.

Mirio’s future was a grand tree. Like Iida’s, like Bakugou’s, it was threaded with splintered branches. Some empty and shriveled and dead. Some dismal and bleak, twirling up like vines. Nighteye didn’t pay mind to those. He focused only on the trunk. That bright and shining pillar surging forward.

It was a future where Mirio was smiling.

A hero. In costume. Beloved and strong and willing. With a smile that alone could save a million people.

Nighteye trusted Midoriya to cultivate that fate for Mirio.

And that was enough.

So Nighteye told Mirio as much. He deserved to know this as Nighteye did. A fine hero. Finer than anyone else. He’d smile again, Nighteye was sure of it.

The light crept to dark edges around Nighteye’s vision, petering out, swimming to a coldness and a darkness and a nothingness. But it was one he could take comfort in. He focused only on the image of Mirio’s smile as the heart rate monitors ticked to nothing, and the breath vanished from his lungs, and the future set before him ran through its final swath of film.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #nighteye #sir nighteye #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Can You Imagine? I

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive... she may have to learn to trust him again.

A/N: As you can see from the summary above, I have... had a very strange idea. But! It’s one I look forward to exploring, and this is an AU of a sort that will be revealed as the story progresses :) If you have any ideas what the AU is exactly, I’d love to hear them! Otherwise, I would also love to hear any other feedback, and I hope you enjoy! Please reach out with DMs, reblogs, or asks if you’d like to be added to the taglist, which will be at the end of the post. Skål!

Warnings: Hospital-like environments, mad science, injections, human experimentation, etc. Google translated Norwegian and German, and Old Norse in Italics!

Masterlist

—

The World Turned Upside Down

The first thing Freydis noticed was the bright lights overhead, even if she didn’t know how they were so bright. She shut her eyes against them, and moved her arm to cover her face in an attempt to block them out. When her arm didn’t move, held down by something wrapped around her wrist, her heart lept into her throat. She had thought to wake in Valhalla, to be welcomed by the gods after her sacrifice in saving Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless, facing him with what she had done and still fighting to save her own life from him. But… this could not be Valhalla, she thought.

Wherever she was, it was cold, and almost unnaturally bright. Her eyes finally opened again as her chest rose and fell quickly. She was hyperventilating. Vaguely, she became aware of a strange, high pitched sound that was short and quick. People around her were speaking, she heard their voices, but their words were foreign and unfamiliar to her. It didn’t seem to her this could be Hel either. It didn’t match any description of what she knew from the legends and stories from home.

So… what was this place?

Freydis’s eyes soon adjusted to the bright lights, which she saw were coming from strange spheres, held up by… some sort of disk, on a pole? Her head turned to the side, and she groaned quietly. “Where am I?” she tried to call out. “Who is there?” Her voice was scratchy, and cracked under the attempted volume.

“Hun er våken,” she heard someone say, and she frowned. It sounded vaguely similar to her own language, but not quite familiar enough that she could make it out. She caught the first word, she, so… they were talking about her, weren’t they?

“Who are you?” she tried again.

A door behind her opened, catching her attention and making her quickly turn her head to look. The room began to spin with the speed she’d turned with, and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“God morgen, Freydis,” the voice said, and her eyes opened to see a woman standing in front of her. The woman was dressed like no woman she’d seen before, in a strange white coat that came to her thighs, beyond which Freydis could see she wore loose pants, of a dark shade, and strange shoes which covered the front, sides, and back of her feet, but not the tops. “Ikke vær redd, vi er dine vinner, hm?”

She couldn’t understand enough of the woman’s words to respond, though she could catch not, we, and… friends? Was she saying they weren’t her friends? Her heart jumped again.

“What is happening?” the Viking woman tried to ask. When the woman put what was meant to be a calming hand on her arm, Freydis flinched and tried to jump away. A soft sob left her throat, one she hadn’t even realized had been building. “I don’t know what you want with me,” she started to say, “but please, just let me go. I will not cause you any trouble, I swear it.”

“Shh,” the woman said, beginning to stroke her hair. “Du er trygg her.”

You, and here. She wished they could understand each other, at the least. The woman looked toward the source of the strange sound, and sighed. It’s speed and frequency had increased. “Du er for stresset,” she mumbled. “Du må slappe av.”

“I cannot understand you,” Freydis tried to tell her, but the woman just shook her head.

“Du burde hvile,” she said. “Vi flytter deg til annet rom.”

The woman picked up a strange looking device, like a tube with some liquid in it, a long thing off the tip. Her breaths only became more shallow, more quick, as she brought the thing closer. “What is that?” Freydis asked. The woman didn’t answer, and she pushed the tip to her neck. A sharp pain immediately pierced her skin, and a soft cry came from the Viking woman. Something burned through her under her skin, making her gasp and writhe on the cold surface they had her strapped to.

“Hvil, Freydis,” the woman said. “Du vil føle deg bedre når du våkner igjen.”

The corners of Freydis’s vision were darkening, and she let out a quiet whine as she started to lose consciousness. Her chest ached in the worst way, feeling tight and strained. One last choked sob left her, and she descended into darkness.

—

When Freydis woke the next time, there was still darkness. Her head hurt, and her body felt stiff, but she could move. She was laid in a bed now, blankets laid over her body, her head resting on a pillow. It was better than what she’d been used to as a slave, the straw pallets she slept on, but not what she’d had as a Queen, as Ivar’s wife. The bed was small, with a firm mattress and flat pillow.

She sat up slowly, closing her eyes to combat again the way her head was spinning. Her hand went to her forehead as if that could help, brows creasing. Once she felt more steady, Freydis opened her eyes once again and started to look around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was nothing else in the room, it seemed, aside from her little bed. But that was better than that harsh surface from earlier. The woman rubbed the back of her neck, sighing.

At least now, Freydis could see she was alone. Without that woman in with her, she began to mumble softly to herself- or, really, to the gods. “You gods, you cannot leave me alone here,” she whispered. “Here I know no one, and I have nothing. If I must remain, help me to understand what it is I am to do here, and bring me a companion, so the loneliness will not set in and take my desire to do your will.” She sighed, running her hands over the wall, which felt much like the cold, hard surface she’d been strapped to earlier. It must have been made of the same material.

“I do not doubt that it is my fate to be here,” she continued, “and I will not question your judgement of my fate. I only ask it be made more bearable for me. For your servant, Freydis.”

At that time, she heard a clicking sound, the same sound that before had signalled a door opening. Her heart jumped as she whipped around, looking for whoever may have entered the space. This time, she was joined by a man, one who still dressed in no way she had ever seen. He wore similar pants to the woman, though his shoes covered his whole foot, and he had no strange white coat. Just a long sleeved shirt, a vest over that, and a… strange sort of bow fixed around his neck. What sort of clothing did they have there?

(It should be noted, at this time Freydis had not yet noticed the far stranger garment she wore- an almost nightgown sort of thing that stopped above her knees, and opened down the back except for the three or four places it was tied together.)

“Hei,” he greeted, smiling at her. Freydis lifted a brow in response, and subtly pressed herself closer to the wall. “Snakker du norsk?”

“I… do not fully understand you,” she told him, more confident without being tied down. “I can tell this once you have asked if I speak Norwegian, but only because the words are so similar to my own. But I do not speak your language.”

The man chuckled a little. “So my theory is correct, then,” he said. Her eyes widened as she recognized every word that came out of his mouth. “The Norwegian spoken today is similar to the Old Norse spoken in your time, similar enough much meaning can be understood, but not similar enough for the languages to be interchangeable. Fascinating.”

“What do you mean, ‘the Norwegian spoken today’?” Freydis questioned. “‘The Old Norse spoken in my time’? Hm? I don’t deny I am glad to hear my own language spoken, but you must understand the unnerving situation I find myself in. I do not know where I am, who you are- only that you are not my friends- and it would appear that I am being held captive. All I want, is-”

“Who has told you we are not your friends?” the man interrupted her. “Of course we are your friends. We’re- well, we’re the reason you’re alive, My Lady.”

“That woman who came to me when I was restrained. She said we were not friends. And then she took my consciousness.”

“Yes,” the man confirmed. “You were having a panic attack. We knew there’d be no use talking to you, explaining anything, if you were panicking. My colleague chose to sedate you so we could restore you to a calmer state, and explain then. She does not speak Old Norse, or perhaps she could have calmed you better than she did.”

“Perhaps I should not have been restrained, if calming me was your goal,” she pointed out flatly.

The man’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, and her brow lifted. “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “But what we have done with you, has never been done before- not successfully. It has been attempted, but you are the first success.”

His words brought no comfort to Freydis, and her eyes narrowed, her head tilted slightly to the side. “What did you do to me?” she questioned. Her voice had turned more firm than before, losing any of its naturally amicable tone, as she demanded this answer.

“We brought you back to life, of course.”

Everything froze at his words, including Freydis herself. She watched him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape, and then she laughed bitterly. “That is a cruel joke. If you want me to believe you have brought me back to life, then I must first have died. But I know I have not died, as I have not seen Valhalla. I do not believe you.”

The man sighed, and bit his lip. “Could I convince you to come with me, then?” he asked. “I can show you proof of my claims. Then, perhaps, you will let us help you.”

“If it is true you raised me from the dead, then you should be horrified with your actions. You have stolen me from Valhalla, and the gods, and interfered in fate. They will be angry.”

“Or, perhaps you have found a new fate with us,” the man suggested. “Come. I’ll introduce myself along the way.”

Perhaps against her better judgement, as she had nothing else she could do, Freydis walked to the man, and allowed him to take her from the small room she was in.

The man led her out into a long, bright hallway that felt similar in nature to the first room she’d woken in. Large, white rectangles seemed to light the space, and she creased her brows as she looked up at them. Something about them made her quite uncomfortable. She swallowed again.

“You have not told me where I am,” she commented. The man merely chuckled in response. “Do not laugh at me.”

“My apologies, Queen Freydis,” he said. “I was laughing because you’re right. You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

Freydis narrowed her eyes at the man’s back. “No, I don’t,” she agreed harshly. “And I will not ask again. Where am I?”

“You are… in Germany, not that this will make any sense to you. You’d have known Germany as the Germanic tribes, which were part of the Frankish Empire.”

“Has it been taken from the Frankish?” she questioned. Her mind turned to her husband’s uncle, Duke Rollo, who had helped him take Kattegat. Freydis wondered vaguely if Rollo was alright.

The man chuckled again, but answered before he could anger the Viking woman behind him. “Many centuries ago, yes.”

A frown set on her lips as her brows creased harshly again. “I still do not believe you, that I have been dead before,” she said. “I fell unconscious at the Battle for Kattegat, and you have kidnapped me. Perhaps I am not even in the Germanic tribes.” She swallowed hard, making sure her voice did not shake, and no nerves were heard in her voice as she spoke again. “My husband will come and find me. You should return me to him before he destroys you and your people.”

She couldn’t see the way the man grimaced. History didn’t know that Ivar the Boneless murdered his wife after her betrayal. After all, she had been found sharing a tomb with him, buried like heroes together, and none of the sons of Ragnar had taken note of how Freydis had died- other than it was the day Björn Ironside took Kattegat. So, with her question, he was hit with the realisation that she didn’t know her husband was dead.

“He… is not a concern to us. We are safe, keeping you here,” he said vaguely. He hoped that Freydis wouldn’t realise anything about Ivar’s passing until she learned it truly was centuries later, and it would only make sense that he was gone, just as she once had been.

This caused Freydis to frown more deeply, and she suddenly stepped quicker to the man, grabbing his shoulder and slamming him into the wall. He immediately pulled away from her as best he could, though he did not escape her. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. Clearly, he was terrified of her.

“Ivar the Boneless will come for me,” she hissed out. “You would be wise to return me to him, entirely unharmed, before he raises up his Great Heathen Army again, to come and rescue his Queen.”

The man was shaking under her. Freydis wondered how little prepared these people must have been, if their men fell apart so easily. She wasn’t even a shieldmaiden, and yet he was terrified of her. “If- if we could get through this tour, I think you would see just what- what I mean about your husband, Your Highness.”

She huffed, and narrowed her eyes. “If you try anything, and he finds out, he will kill you. I’ll be sure of it.”

He nodded enthusiastically, still grimacing and trying to push himself into the wall. “Of course,” he said. “I’ve told you- we are your friends, here. We won’t hurt you.”

“See that you do not, or there will be Hel to pay.”

Eventually, he took Freydis into another strange room. Though this one was still different from all she had seen so far. It was filled with strange slabs of metal, all with moving images on them. People in the funny white coats, including the woman from earlier, were watching these moving images, and writing in a language she couldn’t read.

The images showed men and women strapped down the way she had been, the same strange devices put to their skin, sometimes multiple of them, and various liquids were pushed into them. The woman from earlier soon noticed Freydis’s presence, and she smiled, coming toward her. The Queen backed up immediately, and the woman’s face fell.

“Jeg antar at det er fornuftig at du ikke vil like meg, ikke sant?” she said. Freydis looked up to the man, as he had clearly understood her, and she didn’t understand this woman.

“Doktor Schmidt, sie spricht kein modernes Norwegisch,” the man said. This was yet another language, and Freydis frowned sharply. What the hell were they playing at.

“It is rude to speak in front of a guest in a way they cannot understand you,” she reminded him pointedly. “What are you saying to her, and what is she saying?”

The man turned to Freydis to answer, “I was telling her that you don’t understand modern Norwegian. She doesn’t speak the Old Norse you do, so I’m going to have to translate between you two, I suppose.”

“No need,” Freydis said. “She is the one who has brought me here, is she not? She put that strange liquid in me which took my consciousness. I will not speak to her.”

The man grimaced and relayed what she said to the woman, who pressed her lips together and sighed, before answering him. Freydis’s eyes watched his response intently.

“She is sad to hear this, but understands. Though, she asks your forgiveness for making you sleep earlier. You were beginning to have a panic attack, and she wanted to keep you from going through that.”

The harsh glare Freydis shot the woman revealed she did not have Freydis’s forgiveness. “Anxiety and panic are nothing I have not experienced before,” she said. “I would have been fine.”

Again, he spoke to the woman, but this time she didn’t stay to listen, her eyes catching on one of the moving images. She had seen herself flicker across it. An image of her sitting in a throne, eyes open yet unseeing, hovered in the upper right corner. She looked beautiful, if not… dead. Covering the whole thing was a moving image- the one in the corner was still- of people moving around a woman, strapped to and laid out on a cold… hard…

Gods above… she thought. It was her.

What Freydis was watching was footage of her being brought back to life by these scientists, who were testing various things on her corpse, monitoring her, until an order was given. A shot of something was put straight into her heart by one scientist, and then they all quickly cleared the room. It was then that she woke, and she watched the interaction she had had with the woman- now standing behind her- before she’d been rendered unconscious.

She watched as she was given a shot of a tranquiliser, and fell asleep, and then the image froze. “This is a monitor,” the man at her side said. “We play back videos on it, and can take notes on what we see in them. That video was of you being woken up for the first time- brought back to life. The picture in the corner there, that was your corpse as we found it. You were with your husband, Ivar the Boneless, in a tomb meant for heroes. Preserved. It was… it was incredible, really. To find you both so perfect, even after death. We were thrilled, naturally, and-”

Freydis stopped listening as another one of the ‘monitors’ shifted, and showed a different image that struck her to her core.

Ivar’s corpse, laid out on the same sort of table as she had been, and he was being injected with various things, just as she had been. She hadn’t seen that part of her own footage. She walked away from the scientists again, and up to the monitor, watching as an injection was given to him in his heart, just as had been done to her. The scientists in the room with him cleared out, and just as she lifted her fingers to the screen, her expression unreadable… Ivar the Boneless took a breath.

Freydis promptly passed out, and collapsed to the floor.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @zuzus-sun

#ivar the boneless #vikings #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #history channel vikings #ivar's heathen army #vikings history #ivar #ivar x freydis

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intubatedangel · 4 years

Text

Out of Body: Chapter 3

Didn’t really feel like writing much of a resus scene after recent events, but I already had some stuff written so I worked it in where I could while expanding the story a bit more.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

************

Jane The ambulance swung into the emergency bay of the major trauma centre, stopping a few feet beyond an assembled team of doctors and nurses. They were already in blue surgical gowns and with the coordination of professionalism and experience, they spread around the back doors and pulled them open, dragging the gurney out. Dave was still pumping the ambu bag while Jane, her sweat slicked fringe sticking to her forehead, handed over the IV bag and monitor to waiting hands before the team ran inside. “What have we got?” The trauma lead asked as he ran his eyes across Laura’s restrained body. His eyebrows raised slightly at the improvised chest tube. “Laura Beckett, 23. Involved in an RTC, sedan vs motorcycle. Fractured femur, query dislocated hip and knee. Fractured wrist as well. Multiple broken ribs and punctured lung, leading to severe haemothorax. Resulted in cardiac arrest, downtime of approximately 25 minutes, reversed after the pressure of the haemothorax was relieved. BPs still low and O2 sat’s barely over 80. Currently sinus tachy at 120.” “Beckett?” The doctor asked, not asking the question out loud. Jane simply nodded. “Ok, lets get her inside, fast beep radiology we need to get a full trauma series ASAP. Let’s get a proper chest tube in, get her on the vent and pack the rapid infuser with TXA, platelets and 2 units of O-neg.” “She’s A-positive.” Jane cut in. “Good, lets get 6 units of that up from the blood bank. Get in touch with cardiothoracics, orthopaedics and neuro for consults.” The rest of the team confirmed their orders as the gurney was pushed into the primary trauma room. After a 3 count Laura was lifted across onto the table, a flurry of action surrounding her as doctors and nurses perform the assigned tasks. The lead eased Jane back. “We’ve got it from here Jane.” She shook her head defiantly, but her voice came out in a whisper. “I’m not leaving her.” “You’ve done your job. And done it well, but you can’t help her in here. Go get cleaned up, you’ll be the first to hear when we have any news.” Jane lingered for a moment, gazing at her sisters body as nurses rapidly stripped away her clothes, discarding them into a bloody heap in one corner of the room. Then her shoulders slumped and her head bowed as she retreated from the trauma room, discarding her gloves into a bin. Dave tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him, heading towards the ladies restroom while pulling out her phone. Ashir Ashir sat at his desk, much of the room shrouded in the late-night darkness. The desk itself was lit by a powerful lamp that starkly highlighted thin tendrils of smoke as they were drawn into the small extraction unit mounted in the window. He peered through the microscope, gently applying more solder to the electronic circuit board he was working on. It wasn’t work that needed to be done right now, but he needed something to occupy his mind. He made a satisfied grunt and shifted the microscope out of the way. He leaned back, stretching and rubbing his eyes, while spinning on his chair. His gaze fell on the other desk in the room. Laura’s desk. It was cluttered, stacks of newspapers, photographs and journals were strewn about in a system that Ashir couldn’t recognise, but his journalist roommate seemed perfectly at home with the mess. The pin board hung on the wall behind the stacks was a different story. It was laid out like a true conspiracy theory board. Over a dozen profile pictures formed the centres of different sections and various colours of string linked articles and reports in a web that looked chaotic at first glance. Looking closer, and with only a small amount of guidance, it began to come together into a cohesive whole. Ashir sighed. He really hoped his roommate was wrong about all this. But even he had to admit the evidence was compelling when presented in the way she had laid it out. That was part of what worried him. She should have been back by now. Or at least have dropped him some form of message. At least she’d told him where she was going. He’d been able to get his own backups into place. She’d probably kill him if she knew about them. As that thought crossed his mind his phone began to ring. He let out a relieved sigh as he prepared to make his concern clear. That was when he saw the caller ID. His hand trembled as he answered. “Ash you were right. She’s in over her head.” Jane’s voice was tight. “What happened?” Ash was already on his feet looking for his keys. “She’s hurt Ash. She’s really hurt.” “I’m coming down there.” He pulled on his jacket then flicked off the light. “Hurry Ash.”

Laura

I heard the noises first. Alarms sounding. Orders being given. I opened my eyes, once again struck by seeing the world in that strange brightness. A nurse was above me, rocking backwards and forwards, her ponytail flicking to and fro with the motion, until she paused for a brief moment. I followed her arms, down to her hands that rested in the slight valley between my breasts.

“Still nothing, resume compressions.” Someone said. The nurses hands suddenly disappeared into my chest. CPR, I was getting CPR again. My heart had stopped once more. The way the nurses compressions passed through my ethereal form was still incredibly disconcerting, so I sat up and looked around. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, but there was a gap at my feet. I managed to scooch past them without passing through anyone, then turned to look my body.

I was naked on the table. And I didn’t look good. My chest was heavily bruised, with tubes sticking out of either side, Jane’s impromptu effort having been replaced by a proper chest tube, an identical one mirroring it. My broken arm and leg had both been splinted and bandaged, though the bandages were already stained through. A urinary catheter had been placed. I was slightly glad I hadn’t seen that happening, someone touching me in such an intimate place.

A large bore IV was in my leg, with other lines into my arms and another one near the base of my neck. Blood and saline were flowing into my body, though as I watched, a nurse pushed some drugs into the central line.

The ecg wires trailed across my chest, leading to a monitor that hug above the trauma table. The line on the monitor was flat. I looked down at my chest, seeing my lifeline still strong and thick. I also saw that my ghostly form was naked too. I instinctively tried to cover myself, despite no one being capable of seeing me.

I looked around for my clothes, shredded and discarded into one corner. I reached out to them, but of course my hand passed right through them. But there was something. A strange feeling, almost like a memory of sensation across my whole body. I reached out again, letting my hand linger within the bundle. The sensation became stronger, growing steadily, and it was almost like I could feel the clothes on me.

I took a deep breath, recalling the meditation techniques my therapist had taught me years ago. How visualising a result can help it happen. I had no idea if it would work, but I’d rather not walk around naked, even if no one could see me. I tried to hold on to the memory of my clothes as I pulled my hand out. I could still feel the clothes on me, and focused on that feeling, blocking out everything else. Slowly, I let out the breath and opened my eyes, looking down at myself. I was clothed. My dark grey t-shirt and similar coloured pants were whole, despite their real counterparts being little more than shreds before me. My black hoody was also on me, unstained by blood like the genuine article.

“We’ve got V-fib.” Someone shouted, dragging my attention back to my body. The alarm had changed, it was familiar enough that I knew what was going to happen next. A doctor, fully gowned and masked, held a pair of black paddles down against my chest. “Clear!” He said, a moment before my naked body jerked on the trauma table. I cringed at the way my legs spread slightly.

“No change. Let’s do another minute of compressions and shock her again.” A nurse immediately had her hands back on my chest, pressing it down, seemingly quite easily. Given how petite the nurse was, my ribs must be really soft.

It was almost enough to turn my stomach, and I instinctively took a few steps back. There was a momentary feeling of resistance, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything. I paused, realising that wasn’t quite right. I could see, there just wasn’t anything too see. Except the papery texture of the back of the plasterboard sheet in front of me, and the treated timbers that were the drywall studs. I was inside the wall. I took another step back, emerging into a corridor.

It was a quiet corridor, empty except for a cleaner at the far end. Yet I could still hear a voice. Quiet, but clear. It was counting. “15…16…17…18…” I grimaced slightly, then plunged back through the wall. The nurse was still pressing down on my chest, and she was mouthing the words, but more to herself. She wasn’t shouting by any stretch, in fact I would be surprised if her words would even carry to where I stood.

So, I can still hear what is happening to my body. Helpful. I glanced down, concentrating slightly to look at my lifeline. It was still strong and steady. How far can it stretch? I remembered Keith telling me to stay close, but the lifeline was thin then, insignificant compared to the almost cable thick line I could see before me now. I made up my mind. I strode across the room, towards the doors, unable to stop myself from hesitating just slightly before I walked through them. Again that slight resistance, more a reminder the wall was there, than something really stopping me, tugged as I passed through. And then I was in a different corridor, busier, but still quiet.

I looked around, hoping to see Jane, but she was not there. I walked down the corridor, trying to figure out precisely where I was, or where I should go. I glanced at the signs, but most of them were mainly just numbers, hanging in front of cubicles or other offshoot corridors. Coloured lines were on the floor, branching out down the corridor behind me. Presumably, I thought, they must all come together at one starting point. I followed them back, dodging a nurse pushing a young man in a wheelchair, a large boot on his foot. Neither of them payed me even a sliver of attention.

“Ok, that’s a minute. Let’s shock her again.” It was the voice of the doctor working on me. “Clear” he said a moment later. I stopped walking as I wondered if I was about to be wrenched back into my body. “Still no change. Load her up with epi, bicarb and amiodarone.” I considered going back, but my lifeline hadn’t changed. I was close enough to see the name plate on the nearby doors, ‘Reception’. Seemed like a sensible place to look for my sister.

I passed through the door and immediately sidestepped out of the way of a porter. It was much busier in here. I retreated to an out of the way corner and looked around for Jane. I couldn’t see her anywhere and was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned me and gone back to work when I saw a high-vis jacket come around the corner. It was her partner. Dave. I remembered. He held two coffee cups, putting them on a counter before reaching for his radio. I crossed the room, weaving around nurses and patients, cringing when a small girl ran through me.

Dave was already mid conversation. “…anks for sorting it. I’ll tell her then I‘ll run the rig back to base.”

“How’s she doing?” A voice said from the radio.

Dave blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “Honestly, not good.” He seemed to stare across at a pair of doors across the room. Toilets. “I mean, it is her sister after all, how many of us would be alright after seeing someone we love in that …” I left him behind as I crossed the room and plunged through the wall into the ladies restroom.

Jane stood there, leaning over a sink. Her high-vis jacket lay on the floor at her feet. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edges of the sink. She was murmuring to herself, enough to earn a sideways glance from another woman who quickly scurried out.

“…stupid. Stubborn. Why couldn’t you just listen to me. I begged you. ‘Don’t go after him.’ But you didn’t listen. You never listen.” As I stepped closer, I could see her aura. There was a bubbling of red, but it was mostly that sickly green. As the door swung shut behind the fleeing woman, Jane let out a great shuddering sob, and tears began to fall from her face. I reached out, but my hand passed through her shoulder.

I could still hear the distant sounds of the attempt to resuscitate me. A third shock delivered. “Back in asystole. Ok, hang another round of blood products and chase up the surgical consult, if we don’t get anything back in two minutes we open her up down here.” That sounded just delightful. I glanced down at my lifeline, but it didn’t look like it had diminished.

That’s when I noticed the traces of red in the sink. Blood. My blood. As if to distract herself, Jane washed out the bowl of the sink, tears still dripping as she took deep steadying breaths. I’d seen her do it before. Fighting to assert an iron control over herself. It had always driven me crazy, especially after what had happened to Mum and Dad. But then, something happened that I had never seen before.

She lost.

Her whole body was wracked with sobs as she sank to the ground against the wall. Her hands covered her face and she drew her knees up tightly. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down beside her. For just a moment I passed into the wall, but I grabbed that moment of resistance, held it my mind for a few seconds, and suddenly the wall felt solid. I leaned back against it, looking at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whispered. As expected, she didn’t respond. She continued to sob, and I could see tears leaking out. I sighed. “It was him. If you can hear me at all, hear that. It was him. Patterson. I was right. He’s a murderer, and he tried to kill me. Just like he killed them.” I could feel the anger building. I turned to look at her, as she lowered her hand, her sobs easing. “It was never your fault Jane. It was always him. He had mum and dad killed.”

#resus writing #resus #cpr #defib #out of body

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Like We Used To: 3

A/N: Hey guys! I’m glad some of you are enjoying my story so far! I love the feedback and messages. Please don’t hesitate to message me. Suggestions, comments, or even theories. Happy reading!

[ONE] [TWO]

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CHAPTER THREE

The girls had stayed behind at the wedding venue to gather the gifts, decor pieces, and a few leftover disposable cameras while the guys made their way over to the rental manor after Kate and Lewis. It was a long few months of wedding planning, so being able to relax with each other was much appreciated. Elizabeth and Daisy took a lot of silly pictures on the disposable camera in the limo ride to the manor and Heather had made a verbal reminder to herself that she needed to get the film developed after the weekend ended.

It wasn’t long before the limo was pulling down the long, tree-lit drive of the beautifully restored manor. The girls spilled out of the limo, smiling up at the building in awe before grabbing their things and heading to the entrance. As soon as the doors opened up, you could hear the boys’ booming voices making fun of each other over music playing in the background.

“Girls are here!” Owen called out, coming up to them and helping with some of the bags, followed by the rest of them.

“Oh, thank god!” Kate squeezed through the boys, giving each of the girls a little hug.

It looked like Kate, Lewis, Jimmy, and Owen had managed to get a shower in while Matt and Edward just took their ties off, loosened the buttons on their shirt collars, and untucked their shirts from their pants.

“Now you girls can head on up to the first and second floors. Any room with a door open is available, so bring your things up with you. And every room has a shower. We’ll be down here getting some drinks ready for you!” Kate continued

“Is Harry here yet?” Daisy asked, excitedly.

“No, not yet,” Kate smiled at her before eyeing Elizabeth hesitantly.

Elizabeth nodded as if to say ‘it’s okay’ before heading to the stairs with the rest of the girls. There were two bedrooms left on the first floor with Kate, Lewis, Owen, and Jimmy, so Heather and Elizabeth decided to take them. Up on the second floor the bedrooms belonged to Edward, Matt, Celeste, Daisy, and eventually Harry when he got there.

Elizabeth’s room was quite spacious. It definitely had a victorian quality about it, but was modernized with a marble walk-in shower. She dropped her bags on the Queen sized bed and made her way to the bathroom, liking the idea of a hot shower. She turned on the shower head and examined herself in the mirror while the water heated up. Her wavy hair had lost its bounce and her makeup was starting to separate due to the sweat which made her look tired. Elizabeth supposed that was a good thing, as it was a sign of a good day. But she felt wide awake, excited to celebrate some more with her friends. She ran her fingers at the neckline of her silk dress, almost sad to take it off. She did love the way she looked in it, and if she was honest, was glad that this was how Harry saw her after nine years.

The steam of the hot water running down her body relaxed her and gave her a moment of clarity. Harry was back. She knew she had mixed emotions about that fact, but he was here and everyone else seemed to be happy about it, nevertheless. Elizabeth decided that she was going to be okay with it. She still wanted to keep a healthy amount of distance from him. I mean, the first time he left was hard enough, she definitely didn’t want to let her guard down. But, she resolved that wasn’t going to let some dumb ass insecurities ruin her weekend.

Elizabeth towel dried her hair as much as she could, slipped into her light peach tie dyed lounge set, and rubbed her sore feet before pulling on some socks and grabbing her phone. 10:42 PM. The night was still young. She bounced down the stairs and followed the sound of her friends voices to what seemed like a parlor room filled with two four-seater couches on either side of a fireplace, which Jimmy had apparently managed so start a fire in and was prodding the logs with an iron poker, and two rather large armchairs at the end of the couches. It looked like Heather and Celeste had the same idea as she did, because their hair was damp and they were now fresh-faced. Daisy, however, had just thrown her platinum hair in a perfect messy bun, got into a crop-top sweat set, and kept her makeup on. It didn’t look like Harry had arrived yet.

“Lizzy!” Matt called over, patting the tiny bit of space next to him on one of the armchairs. There was plenty of room on the two couches, but she squeezed beside him while Kate had disappeared and quickly reappeared with Elizabeth’s go-to drink. A Moscow Mule. Elizabeth whispered a ‘thank you, love’, so as not to disrupt the conversation happening in the room and Kate sat at the end of the couch next to her husband, Owen, and Heather.

“I see JJ started the fire,” Elizabeth noted aloud while the others confirmed with a nod, “So did we all learn from our last camping fail not to let Edward near it,” she sneered with a grin.

“Oi!” Edward shouted from the chair next to her as the friends all laughed and she felt Matt’s arm jerk behind her back to swat at Edward.

“The dumbass almost burnt down our cabin!” Celeste recalled, making them all laugh harder.

The sound of the front door opening and closing followed by footsteps made everyone turn to look at the entrance of the room. Elizabeth had to crank her head back to be able to see and was met with Harry’s gaze.

“Hey!” Harry smiled and waved. He had clearly taken a shower and had changed into a casual long sleeve sleeping shirt and some lounge pants, carrying a small duffel bag. His rings no longer covered his fingers.

“Harry! Glad you made it!” Lewis called, standing up. They patted each others back when they were within range and Lewis said, “Come on, let me show you to your room.”

“You’re across from me!” Daisy called out. Harry turned back and chuckled in response to her before he was out of sight.

“Jesus, Daisy!” Celeste snorted, rolling her eyes while the others laughed and shook their heads.

Once Lewis and Harry joined them back in the room with some more drinks, Harry had taken a seat on the other couch next to Jimmy, Celeste, and Daisy. Immediately the conversations, like always with this group, had gotten a little out of control with laughter to the point of tears. Many pictures were taken on the disposable cameras and even more drinks were made. Eventually Heather and Owen had excused themselves to go to bed and the conversation died down a bit. With Matt’s arms resting on Elizabeth’s legs that had been strewn across his in the chair, he whispered in her ear something about getting more drinks when a small piece of ice was chucked at them and had landed on his arms.

“If you two are quite finished flirting, then.” Celeste smirked.

“He wishes,” scoffed Edward, which provoked another smack from Matt.

Kate busted into laughter, “Do you remember when they hooked up with each other after college graduation?” Which caused even more laughter from the bunch with some saying ‘Holy shit, I forgot about that!’

“Wait, what? Really?” Harry straightened up, looking between the two of them with a slightly intrigued and surprised look. Harry had known them since they were fourteen, and back then he probably couldn’t picture that ever happening.

Matt chuckled and joked, patting Elizabeth’s back, “What can I say? I was able to do what every guy in our friend group wanted to do since junior high. I’m a stud.”

“Relax, stud,” Elizabeth blushed, elbowing him in the chest, “It was just a kiss. I’m pretty sure everyone here has kissed each other at least once at some point.”

“Was there some sort of sexual awakening after I left or something?” Harry joked, with nods and laughter from the rest, “Vecause back then it was only Kate and Lewis snogging each other.”

“Remember when Celeste and Edward actually hooked up last year?” Lewis remembered.

“Hell yeah! Broke my two-year dry spell with that!” Edward winked at her.

“And you haven’t had any action since,” Elizabeth quipped, causing an eruption of laughter.

“Alright, alright!” Celeste grinned sheepishly. “We said we would never mention that night again!”

“I bet there will be at least three hookups by the end of the weekend,” Lewis said, assuredly with a nod of agreement from Kate.

Harry looked at them, amused, “Who?”

“Right, should we make bets? Ten bucks each. The one with the most guesses correct by the end of the weekend wins. Ties split.” Jimmy suggested followed by yelps and hoots of acceptance. Harry hesitantly agreed.

“Well, obviously JJ, Heather, Owen, and the bride and groom here are out since they’re in relationships,” Matt thought allowed, “but I reckon that Celeste and Edward will get together after having one too many.” Everyone agreed except for Celeste and Kate.

Then Edward said, “Alright, and I think that Matt and Elizabeth will make out at least once,” to which only Daisy and Celeste agreed.

Kate smiled apprehensively, “Sorry, but I think it’s more likely to be Elizabeth and Harry.”

Elizabeth blushed and her eyes widened, shooting daggers towards Kate as Jimmy, Lewis, and Celeste agreed. She felt Harry’s eyes on her, but she avoided his gaze, unable to look at him. They are out of their minds! What was Kate thinking?

Jimmy spoke up, “And I think Daisy is going to try to get with every available person here. And I mean every available person here.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the girls. A harmonious laughter of agreement emitted from the entire group.

The night continued with more banter. Everyone had agreed upon what to do when they woke up. They had planned on taking the inner tubes out on the manor’s private lake in the morning and having a BBQ. Daisy, after a few drinks and expressing her deep love for everyone there, managed to kiss both Celeste and Edward. “Two down, three to go,” Jimmy sniggered. Slowly the group started to lighten as people were excusing themselves to go to bed.

Eventually it was only Daisy, Harry, Matt, and Elizabeth left. Daisy was nodding in and out of consciousness, the fire was now burned out, and Elizabeth was still comfortably smushed next to Matt on the chair with her legs draped over his and her head resting on his chest. Even though she had told herself she wasn’t going to ignore Harry, she still felt herself at a loss for what to say to him. She still felt confused. Elizabeth just wound up twiddling her thumbs while him and Matt conversed or giving short replies when Harry tried to talk to her.

Daisy suddenly stood up and mumbled, “I’m going to bed,” before making her way out of the room.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I think I should head up, too,” Matt yawned, patting Elizabeth’s legs and sliding out from under her to get up, stretching.

Elizabeth caught Harry’s eyes which read a sort of hesitance, almost as if he was waiting on her to say something. She stood up after Matt and said, “Yeah, me too.”

As they made their way up the steps, she felt Harry behind her, obviously deciding he didn’t want to be the only one up. Matt stopped at the top of the landing to give Elizabeth a hug and a friendly peck on the cheek, wishing her a goodnight and bounded the stairs to the next floor where his room was. Elizabeth was almost at her door when she heard a sad, soft, “Goodnight, Lizzy.” But when she turned around, Harry was already halfway up the steps after Matt.

Elizabeth threw herself onto the bed, turning over to click off the light and look out the window. It would have been pitch dark in the room if it weren’t for the light glow of the crescent moon shining through her window. Elizabeth felt like she failed. Everyone else was so happy and comfortable around Harry after so much time. It didn’t make sense why she was the only one that didn’t feel the same.

Just when she started to slip under the sheets, she heard a soft tapping at her door. “One second,” she called, slipping back out of bed and towards the door. When she opened it she tensed, seeing Harry nervously standing there. “Oh...uh…” she started.

Harry cut her off, “I just didn’t want to go to bed thinking I was crazy. Is it just in my head, or have you been trying to avoid me?” He smiled, anxiously, trying to lighten the tension.

Elizabeth stuttered, shocked at this confrontation, “No, I...Sorry. It’s just…” she paused for a second before straightening up. She wasn’t going to chicken out. If he really wanted to know, she would be honest, “You want the truth? You really want to have a whole-ass heart to heart at 2 AM?”

Harry blinked before nodding his head, his smile starting to fade. A creak was heard from the hallway and they both turned, half expecting someone to be peering out of their room, but they didn’t see anyone. Still, Elizabeth didn’t want anyone listening in, so she stepped to the side and invited him in. He sat at the edge of her bed, hands clasped, and watched her, waiting for her to say something. She stood by the closed door, collecting her thoughts as she had so much she wanted to say, before starting.

“I don’t know, Harry. This is awkward! It shouldn’t be so awkward, but it is! Everyone else seems to be perfectly fine with the fact that you’re here, but I honestly don’t know how to feel. I mean you left me! For nine years I hadn’t heard a word from you. You managed to keep in touch with Lewis and Kate just fine, but why not me?” Elizabeth started pacing the room and started letting it all out. “I mean you were my best friend, for Christ sake. When Kate and Lewis finally got together it was basically you and me every single day! But as soon as you started getting a little bit of attention, you stopped talking to me. I felt crazy. For years I felt like maybe...maybe I just thought we were better friends than we actually were. There’s no way I could have meant that much to you if it was so easy for you to leave the way you did. Then you show up here expecting everything to be all peachy. Everyone else can forgive and forget so easily, Harry. But I’m struggling here.”

By the time she had finished she had felt a lump in her throat the size of a golf ball and her eyes stung as she tried to hold back her tears. She didn’t mean to get so emotional. But she would not allow herself to cry. She didn’t want to show weakness.

An uneasy silence filled the room. It felt like a lifetime before Harry finally spoke, clearing his voice, “I’m so sorry, Lizzy.” Elizabeth looked over at him and could see his eyes were slightly glassy. And instead of his usual lopsided smile it was turned down into a slight frown. He wiped the inner corner of his eye and continued, “I was trying to think of all the reasons for why I did what I did, but they all seem so….fucking stupid now.” He hit the covers lightly, seeming annoyed with himself. “You’re right. I was being a dumbass. And you were not crazy to be upset. You were my best friend. I know you always had Kate. And obviously our friend group was there. I mean there was Lewis and Celeste and JJ and Matt. But...you were my best friend. You knew more about me than anyone else in that group. I’m…..fuck. There’s no excuse. I’m so sorry!”

Elizabeth stared at him as he spoke. She was expecting excuse upon excuse. Definitely not that. She could hear the frustration in his voice and saw the sadness in his eyes. He meant what he said. Elizabeth softened up, “A lot has changed in nine years, Harry. I know we’ve all been picking up where we left off, but we’re not the same as we were when we were seventeen.”

Harry nodded, “I know. You’re right, and neither am I. So….I’m hoping we can use this weekend to get to know each other again. Or...I can get to know everyone again. We can get ourselves reacquainted. I may not be exactly the same, but I’m not that much different.” He noticed her hesitance before adding, “I promise, Lizzy. I promise I won’t leave like that again.”

Elizabeth let her lips twitch upwards into a small smile. Harry’s eyes softened and his eyebrows raised, searching for some kind of response in her face. He must have seen it, because he smiled his bright white smile and outstretched his hands to her in a mock handshake and said, “Hi. My name is Harry Styles. I used to be your best friend before I ruined that. Nice to meet you, again.”

Elizabeth let out a small laugh and a tear that threatened to leave her eye finally spilled out. She quickly wiped it away and swatted his hand, “No, we’re not doing handshakes.” She said, finally allowing herself to propel into his arms. He tightened his arms around her embrace and let his cheek press onto the top of her head. Although he was bigger than he once was, and older, his hug felt the same. The familiar feeling of warmth, comfort, and safety embodied her.

They stayed like that for a while before Harry whispered, “You smell good.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Elizabeth snorted into his chest, pausing before she said, “But so do you.”

Harry laughed and they pulled away, smiling at each other. “Ok. I guess I should…”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth nodded, walking him to the door and opening it for him.

He stepped into the hall and turned to face her. With a warm grin he said, “Goodnight, Lizzy.”

“Goodnight.” Elizabeth whispered, and closed the door.

She stood there for a second, letting what just happened sink in before climbing back into bed and under the covers feeling a warmth grow in her chest. She started to feel the wall that she built up to protect herself start to crumble. This was either going to be really good, or really bad.

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#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #Harry Styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #one direction #writing #story

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tsipasce · 3 years

Text

Same Difference Ch.17

A/N: Here is your reward for enduring last week lmao. This one is a bit long, but cutting it up just didn't seem as gratifying so I hope you guys enjoy.

Also, thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks on AO3 and FFN-- you guys are too kind :'). I'll try posting more regularly on Tumblr too if ppl wanna read it here. Let me know what y'all think~

There was darkness, then flickers of lights and the occasional overwhelming flow of noises before it ebbed to silence and darkness yet again. First, she felt she was on a hard surface like concrete, then cold metal, then something cushion-like… a bed? Her thoughts were incoherent, presenting more as disjointed words and feelings. Anger, regret, hurt, with a sprinkle of sadness on top. Her body was heavy, every limb feeling as though the blood had been replaced with lead. Her head lolled and she heard someone suddenly shift at her side, the bed dipping under the pressure of said someone leaning on it and over her but was too out of it to open her eyes. Acquiescing, she fell back into unconsciousness.

An indefinite amount of time passed while she was in the darkness before her senses began to return fully. She heard typing, now able to feel a presence nearby. She wanted to open her eyes, but the task seemed too daunting still, simply listening would have to be enough for now.

“I can stand watch for now, if you’d like.” One voice offered, softly.

“What I’d like is to be left alone.” The other replied curtly.

“I see. We’re going to leave in the next few hours, I’ll get everyone ready.”

“You do that.”

Well this guy sounds like a treat… Nanami thought, her sarcasm unsurprisingly returning before the rest of her senses and memories. There were footsteps and then a soft thud, like a door being carefully shut. A couple moments passed before she heard what sounded like a laptop being closed, then footsteps coming towards her, and then silence. She desperately wanted to wake up, but her body refused to cooperate, causing her eyes to flutter behind her eyelids as she struggled in vain to move. She could sense the presence hadn’t left and she felt anxious as to what might happen next before hearing a sigh. She felt a sheet being pulled up to cover her arms, where goosebumps had been forming from the draft in wherever she was.

“I’ll deal with you when I get back.” The voice said with a hint of annoyance, though it was betrayed by its gentle tone. Hearing footsteps growing fainter, a door opened and closed once more. The words themselves were threatening but the way they were spoken, she felt oddly comforted. Falling back into the darkness, she decided to cultivate her energy and try her luck at waking up again later.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emerging from the darkness again, the pain began immediately. Her head throbbed and she reflexively tried to groan but found her mouth and throat painfully full. Instantly recognizing the feeling, panic set in, the only other thing she could perceive being the desperate need for it to stop. She grabbed the tube, disassembling and reassembling it outside her body. The large obstruction dropped unceremoniously to the floor and she coughed, glad to be rid of it.

“Don’t be so rough with the equipment.”

She rolled her head to the direction of the voice, a bright light hitting her eyes as she struggled to open them for the first time since… Damn. It all came rushing back to her at once, the voice no longer a mystery. Her vision focused and she found herself looking at Overhaul as he sat at her bedside. His mask was on as he stared at her blankly. She stared back for a beat, not knowing how to begin speaking about what brought them to this point. Deciding she should be fully awake and rested for that conversation, she mentally tabled it, opting for their usual banter instead.

“It’s still intact isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, massaging it as she continued, “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“THREE DAYS?” Her eyes shot wide, another coughing fit beginning as she raised her voice after not speaking for days.

“Yes, that’s what I said.” He grimaced, moving back a bit at her sudden outburst, “Cough in the other direction.”

“No surprise that your bedside manner could use some work.” She sighed as she adjusted to raise herself up, wincing as her sore muscles tried their best to comply. He promptly rose, putting a pillow behind her as she sat up, his expression blank yet attentive, “Thanks.”

He nodded as he took his seat again and the silence continued, painfully. It felt like their first meeting all over again, neither knowing how to broach the awkward topic. Looking back, Nanami was angry at how insufferably rude he could be but couldn’t ignore her own part in this. A pang of guilt sat heavily in her chest when she remembered how easily she let her emotions get the best of her; she hadn’t told someone off like that in ages. In her mind, it in no way absolved him, but to say it was all his fault would be a lie. In that moment of rage, she… What did I do anyway? She glanced down, now more confused than anything, her brows furrowing before looking at him.

“Let’s chat.”

He readjusted in his chair, leaning back as he crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest, “Let’s.”

His body language oozed condescension as though she was about to be scolded like a child and she hated it, “Why’d you attack me. Again.”

His eyes narrowed, displeased with how she was beginning their talk,” That was going to be my question to you. I thought we had a deal.”

“What are you talking about? We did—we do—I did not attack you.” she defended. Nanami knew they were both wrong for getting so worked up, but she wouldn’t stoop that low over an argument. “I was wrong, we both were for getting so heated, but I wouldn’t just start throwing hands like that. So again, why did you attack me? I thought… I thought we got passed all that.”

His brow furrowed at the implication, his jaw clenching uncomfortably at the hurt in her voice, “We are. We’re far passed all of that.” He intoned with a level of sincerity that seemed foreign to him. Having spent the past three days chastising himself for putting her in this position, wishing the exchange could be taken back, it was difficult to sound detached. He’d been angry, but harming her had been something he’d put out of his mind some time ago, “I didn’t attack you either…”

They both shared a moment of sincere confusion. Overhaul hadn’t come out unscathed either, having to heal his own head injury as well as a cracked vertebra from the impact once he came to. “Then what the hell happened?” Nanami asked, speaking the question they were both wrestling with. She looked around the room for her bag at the same time Overhaul reached for his laptop.

“We should run tests.” They said in unison. He handed her her notebook from the bag and a pen as they began noting exactly what happened leading up to the explosion. As she recalled the events, there were a number of theories that came to mind, as well as ideas on how to safely perform reenactments of what transpired, but she also remembered the argument beforehand. He was somehow even more quiet than usual, and she could tell his gears were turning that morning, but the hostility seemed so out of the blue. Putting down her pen, he glanced up at her, noticing the sound of her writing had stopped and she was staring down thoughtfully.

“Did you think of something?”

“…Yeah. I did. Why’d you pick a fight with me that day?”

He looked back down at his keyboard and continued typing, “I don’t know what you mean. That little tiff was a joint effort.”

“No, no, no. It may have ended up that way, but you blew up at me after an entire week of solid teamwork. I expect the snide comments and the general air of grumpiness, but that was different… What happened?” He made the mistake of making eye contact with her. She didn’t look angry, just hurt.

Taken aback, all he could manage was “… I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that “emotion” nor did he have any plans to discuss feelings. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure why he did it himself. Perhaps it was self-sabotage and he was pushing her away, but to accept that would mean acknowledging they had gotten close; that he had, at some point, made the subconscious decision to stop viewing her as a pawn or even just a colleague, and to indulge the need for far more than their formal arrangement. He wasn’t ready to come to terms with the possible loss of his objectivity when it came to whatever went on between them, but he knew he’d have to confront the undercurrents of their relationship at some point. Right now, they had discovered a possible breakthrough in their research and there was no room for delay. With a ghost of a plan in mind for how to move forward with Nanami, he decided it would be more logical to smooth things over in the immediate moment with Dr. Watanabe; separating the two identities giving him the illusion of control. He continued” But I do know it won’t happen again. That was…unprofessional. How is your head?”

She bit her lip and exhaled, seeing the switch flick in his eyes knowing the wall had been put back up. “It’s... it’s fine. Just a little—no, really sore.” She confirmed with herself, rubbing her hand over the source of the pain to find stiches. Why wouldn’t he just overhaul this? “So, you decided to fix this the old-fashioned way, huh? The stitchwork is impeccable, but why go through the trouble? You could have just—”

“I didn’t want to touch you.”

“… Ouch.” She winced, glancing away as the abrupt response hurt a bit more than she expected.

Realizing it hadn’t been received how he planned, he clarified,” I meant I…didn’t want to use it on you. I was under the impression we had somehow attacked each other and assumed you might not find the prospect of me handling you in that way all that appealing.”

“…Oh. Well, thank you... I don’t mind if you touch me now” he rose a brow at this, “—I mean like to heal or—Oh you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes before crossing her arms and continuing, “Just… just do it, please.” The last word tacked on with a mumble.

Letting out an amused breath, he rose, motioning her to turn so her back faced him as he removed his gloves. She quickly brushed her hair to the side, missing a few strands. She tensed as he was much closer than she was prepared for, feeling the warmth of his hands against the nape of her neck as he gently gathered the stray hairs and handed them to her to gather in front. Smoothing down the part, he leisurely ran his hands through her hair, losing himself for a second before noticing the tops of her ears had reddened and her breath had quickened at his ministrations. Refocusing, he disassembled the stitches before immediately healing the wound knowing even a millisecond of delay would prove very painful. “Done.”

Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, she felt normal again and ready to get out of bed as her muscles had been unused for the better part of three days. Checking the time on her phone on the nightstand she saw it was only 6 am, “So, you wanna go for a run?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Fine, fine. But on a serious note, I think we should head to the lab. I know the deal was 2 weeks bu—”

“You don’t have to bargain. Get cleaned up, I’ll start preparations for testing tomorrow.”

She turned to him, brows raised in surprise, “Well okay then. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“See you there.” He said before exiting her room, shutting the door softly.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After a thorough scrubbing and stretching, she felt ready to get back to her remaining paperwork, putting on her favorite chunky turtleneck and sweatpants effectively pulling off the lazy-but-still-fashionable look. Brewing herself a cup of tea and pulling out her workbag, she thought it best to not dwell on all the Feels ™ that had continuously threatened to surface, which was undoubtedly exacerbated by their current living situation.

She was woman enough to admit she stared just a little too long, smiled just a bit too enthusiastically, and was way too excited by even the smallest bits of physical contact with him… But it’s just a crush. She lied to herself as though he hadn’t been the most intellectually stimulating person she’d had the pleasure of talking to. As though she’d ever felt silence more comfortable than their time in the lab or simply sharing meals together. As though— Girl if you don’t concentrate... She chastised herself before attempting to neatly compartmentalize her feelings, refusing to acknowledge just how much more difficult keeping them in check had become. It’s just because you’re all up under each other, it’ll pass.

Refocusing on the task at hand, she opened her laptop and pulled out a well-worn file folder, her gaze turning somber as her fingers traced the bend of it; evidence of the many nights she’d revisited it only to close it when the answers didn’t come. In the past month she’d taken on a patient who seemingly had nowhere to go. Many of her colleagues had turned him away, seemingly too jaded to go through the trouble of dealing with such a case. Nanami herself was puzzled when she reviewed his file, but she knew there was no other option; she had to at least try.

Kenta was a very jovial, large person with a personality to match. Built much like a strongman with tusks not unlike a walrus, he was hard to miss. Before he became her patient, she’d see him making small talk with the other patients, encouraging them though he himself was on the way to chemotherapy, his weight dwindling by the day. The previous doctors told him that he had osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer. It was seemingly exacerbated by his quirk that gave him dense bones; they were perfect for diving, but apparently came at this very high price. The treatment had shown mild success, but her predecessors had decided his condition was becoming too advanced and an amputation was in order. After that visit, he attempted to keep his jovial nature, but his physical appearance continued to deteriorate, the medication and tests taking their toll. Full-hardy laughs were interrupted by coughing fits, round cheeks flexed into a habitual smile were replaced with gaunt hollows. Nanami couldn’t help but feel was cruel to be given such great power and still be unable to solve this problem.

She agonized, sincerely perplexed as to why someone as healthy and active as Kenta could have developed such an aggressive and rare form of cancer so quickly. It didn’t helped that after the first doctor’s diagnosis, the subsequent three doctors took little to no efforts to confirm said diagnosis, so she remained thoroughly unconvinced. She was a prodigy in her own right, but that alone couldn’t negate seniority. To go against the other doctors, she would need substantial proof of her theory—and also a theory to begin with.

Nanami was stirred from her thoughts by the sound of the silo being activated, as Overhaul stepped out. It had been hours since she had last gotten up as day turned into late night, too engrossed in her task. She glanced up for a moment, giving an absent-minded “hey” before returning to her work. It was unlike her to brush him off so quickly, and he assumed there were still hard feelings from earlier. Approaching her, he was about to speak before he caught a glimpse of her screen and notes, the file folder and its contents now haphazardly splayed on the coffee table, a few with drops of moisture on them.

“Didn’t I tell you no drinking in the living roo—” he stopped short, hearing a small sniffle escape her, before she attempted to cover it up by clearing her throat.

“Sorry, yeah, no drinking in the living room.” She laughed emptily, gathering the papers that were stained.

Seeing people cry was usually... uninspiring to him, to say the least; he couldn’t understand it, the need for such dramatic displays as an adult. But he found himself making exceptions more and more; she wasn’t one to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum—at least not seriously. Her tears were stifled, indignant, and his curiosity—yes, we’ll call it “curiosity”— got the better of him.

“What are you doing? Crying?”

“No!... Maybe.” She stubbornly corrected, further averting her gaze, hoping to use her hair as a curtain to obscure her face. Pausing for a beat, his attention turned to what he presumed was the source. He read over it as she attempted to fix her face. His brow furrowed, and Nanami turned back to see what he was doing. “Why do you care?”

“Osteosarcoma seems like an odd diagnosis for someone with his age and history.” He noted, choosing not to answer her question.

“That’s what I said!” she instinctually replied before remembering herself, “I mean quit snooping, this is patient-doctor information. It’s illegal to share.”

“Yet you brought it outside your office, to a yakuza base.” He deadpanned, pointing out the hypocrisy, taking a seat next to her on the couch. She pursed her lips, continuing to mull over theories, assuming he’d get bored and leave her be. “If not osteosarcoma, what do you think it could be?”

Knowing discretion was one of his strong suits, she decided to humor him. “I’m not sure. The tumor grew extremely fast and they began chemo almost immediately, so I didn’t get the benefit of a fresh diagnosis. He’d been perfectly healthy otherwise and his line of work kept him pretty active.”

“What’s his occupation?”

“He’s a commercial diver, it’s pretty fitting since his quirk gives him a lot of walrus-like qualities.”

“Sounds hazardous.”

“You’re one to talk. He’s practically made for it so drowning or being crushed under the pressure is near-impossible for him.”

“I was referring to all of the equipment. The fact that he’s kept all of his limbs up to this point is impressive.”

Slowly turning to him, a tired look on her face, she replied “… Your compliments are so very strange.”

Shrugging he continued, “It’s not that odd. The number of divers and sailors I’ve seen at port with mutilated legs is not small.”

Nanami was mid eye-roll when an epiphany struck her. Her eyes went wide, and she began frantically rummaging through the paperwork. "Shit-- wait, online!" grabbing her laptop, she began typing in a frenzy as Overhaul watched calmly. Finding Kenta's online records in the hospital database, she read a file from a month before his diagnosis stating he had been in a diving accident that severely fractured his leg where his tumor now was. She let out a shaky breath of excitement, "MO. It's fucking Myositis Ossificans! This explains why the 'tumor' grew so quickly. It's because it wasn't even really a tumor, just his body's response to a traumatic injury-- This is amazing!"

He felt the corner of his mouth tug upward, as she practically wiggled in genuine excitement. “That diagnosis sounds much more appropriate.”

Facing him on the couch, she reflexively grabbed him by his shoulders, lost in excitement, before realizing what she was doing. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just grab you like that,” she hurriedly removed her hands before he waved it off. “It’s just... I’ve been poring over this since I got this case but hadn’t thought to make that connection since he never mentioned the injury.” Thinking back for a moment, it dawned on her, “... how did you know to ask?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”

Smiling, he rose, walking to the kitchen, “Would you like a cup?”

Very aware he was evading her question, she rolled her eyes smiling in kind “Sure. Of what?” She wrote down her final notes before putting away the files, tucking them and her laptop away as she waited for an answer.

Bringing over two cups of sake and the bottle, he sat next her with his own before sliding over her cup. She gave him a look and he sighed, “Consider it your reward for your work today. But don’t get used to it, my living room consumption rule still stands.”

She raised her hands in surrender, chuckling before taking a sip. “Oh! Let’s play a game.”

His brows furrowed as he continued to face forward still enjoying his drink,” Do I seem like a man who plays games?”

“Well, judging by the shogi board, I’d say yes.”

“… Just set the board.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit before starting the odd conversation, chatting and playing until they were on their fourth cup. Nanami was admittedly tipsy by this point and decided to ask something that had been on her mind for a while now with the aid of her liquid courage. If ever there was an opportunity, it was now, “Hey, why didn’t you ever become a doctor?” The question caught him off guard as he stopped drinking and peered off into the distance thoughtfully. His lips parting for a moment to speak before closing again to consider his answer.

“It would be difficult to treat people you can’t touch.”

“Hm… sounds like a copout. I wear gloves on the job at least 80% of the time and a lot of the non-surgical work that requires touching could easily be done by a nurse. So, what’s the real reason?”

“Well, you’re awfully bold tonight.”

“Eh, it’s your fault anyway,” she reminded him, toying with the sake glass. “So, are you gonna tell me or not?”

He considered her for a second before answering, “Win this game and I’ll tell you.”

“Easy.” She shot back before considering another outcome, “and what if I lose?”

He smiled easily, her stomach flipping as a glint of mischief was evident in his eyes, “Just try your best to win.”

Nanami was determined, or at least she convinced herself she was, not wanting to confront her curiosity at what he would do if she lost … or what he would do to me… Ok, let me put down this sake before I get a life sentence to horny jail. Recomposing herself a bit, she observed the board, stifling a smirk when she saw her path to victory. It was a moderately long game, but the outcome was in her favor as she took his king. Raising the piece betwixt her fingers, she smirked, “Now spill the beans.”

He stared into the proverbial abyss, slightly peeved at the loss, priding himself as a more-than proficient player before tonight. “Give me a moment.” He said casually raising a finger as he cleared his throat. Taking a measured sip from his cup before locking eyes with her, “I have a duty.” Nanami shot him an unsatisfactory look before he clarified, continuing, “Pops took me in when I had nothing to offer. This,” he began as he leered at his hands, recalling the destruction they regularly wrought, “is what I was meant to become in order to repay him. Bringing the yakuza back to their former glory and carrying on his legacy are my primary objectives. My time is limited since he’s not as young as he used to be. The years of schooling it would take to reap the benefits he deserves would prove much too long. Indulging in a dream like that is not in my nature, even if I did have the time. That is why.”

Her smile dulled as she processed his response. She wasn’t self-righteous enough to impose her own ideals on him, but it seemed like such a waste. His leading questions tonight were just one of many examples of his expertise. Even without the formal schooling he had a level of mastery that could easily earn him a degree, and coupled with his research skills, he could do a world of good. But instead here he was, content with just the opportunity to pay his debts. For someone so arrogant, he thought surprisingly little of his own nature. Maybe someday someone could convince him he didn’t have to carry around this weight all the time. Still very tipsy, she responded,” Well, if it’s a dream of yours to begin with, your nature can’t be all that bad now can it?” At this he knitted his brows, trying to accept the possibility. Seeing his hesitation, she continued, “You can do both, you know. Give yourself some more credit, bird brain.” She slurred the last insult, finishing her sake off with a gulp, not wanting to sound too soft. Feeling the consequences of her actions, she swayed sleepily in her seat before closing her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she felt herself being nudged awake, “Come on, get up. You need to get into bed.”

“But it’s sooo comfy here. Why are you being such a buzzkill, Kai?” she whined as he grasped her forearms, encouraging her to rise from her seat.

Stopping in his tracks, he asked a bit taken aback, “Where did you hear that name?”

“Your Poppy Pops told me” She almost sang, a grin plastered on her face.

“…Do not ever use the phrase ‘Poppy Pops’ again. Also, if couches were meant for sleeping, beds wouldn’t exist.” He responded irritated, though he handled her like porcelain, still remembering how unpleasant the last three days had been. Guiding Nanami to her room, he finally got her to lay down after tuning out a slew of other ridiculous nickname proposals, the drowsiness setting in as soon as her head hit the pillow. Knowing it would be too much work convincing a now drunk Nanami to get under the covers, he begrudgingly put a spare blanket over her. Before leaving, he looked back at her sleepy form. As much as they could grate each other’s nerves, no one had ever thought to encourage him or challenge his own thinking besides his father. He had never been a warm or sentimental person, having to try thrice as hard to grasp emotions that came so naturally to others, but she had planted a seed of doubt. Having always been so confident in his own lacking, he found a part of himself excited to be proven wrong for the first time. Before closing the door softly, he spoke “Thank you, Nanami.”

#overhaul #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #bnha #mha overhaul #overhaul fanfiction #mha fanfic #overhaul x oc #bnha fanfic #mha oc #overhaul x nanami #nanami watanabe #same difference #mc fanart #multichapter #fanfiction #fanfic #overhaul fanfic

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hobiheavenly · 5 years

Text

Karma’s Cravings (part 2)/ MYG

✧ Min Yoongi x Reader

✧ Multichapter, Coffee Shop AU, E2L

✧ Warning: Min Yoongi’s throbbing hard on

✧Word count: 3.8k

✧ Summary: Your life is going idyllically with your business with the exception of having to work with Min Yoongi who disapproves of your comercial tactics. but when one day a medium tells you he is to be the love of your life you are quick to shut her down but running away from fate can come with cause consequences.

✧A.N: and finally part 2! I had this ready since Thursday and I know I normally post on Sunday’s but I really don’t mind having it out now, I promise there will be more action next time son bear with me I wanna build up the sexual tension. Please let me know what y’all think.

Parqt 1 / Part 2 /

It was almost midnight when you closed the doors of "Constant Cravings" and crossed the garden to go to the parking lot that consisted of a building with many floors to reach. The smell of the rain was still in the air because of the sudden storm that had appeared out of nowhere. You began to curse those stupid weather reporters for lying. "Cloudy with low chances of rain MY ASS!" You thought bitterly . Lucky for you, it rained just when the party had started reaching its end. Actually, the rain helped the sales since everyone went to the shops at the space to shelter from the rain, so they went to "Constant Cravings" for both shelter and a hot cup of coffee.

Even as your feet felt sore and your back was aching like hell, it was all worth it! You had a made sales record and had three jobs lined up for next week. By 10 o'clock, after putting the "CLOSED" sign on the door, you had begun to make the materials for the batch of cookies you had to bake tomorrow morning and after looked into the paperwork you had piled up in your office. It might not be the most romantic way to spend a night on Valentines Day, but at least it was less troublesome than men usually gave.

By the time you had finished it was close to midnight so you decide to call it a day. After closing shop and locking the door, you went to the elevator of the parking structure and pushed the button to call the elevator. It was then when you heard a car turning on and seconds later a red sports car pass by you on his way to the exit. Once the car passed you immediately saw the driver, Min Yoongi.

“Good night to you too” you said sarcastically when he had already passed. It was more than obvious that he had spent the night of Valentines Day in his office. It didn't really surprise you that a man like him didn't have a date on the most romantic night of the year. "You don't have a date either missy!" a voice in your mind coldly reminded.

So what if you didn't have a man! You were sure that Seokjin would have gone boy-crazy trying to find you a date and the guy would be a total weirdo or too self-centered. You were sick of first dates and having to put up with them. "I guess my hopes have just disappeared with the time" you thought.

What the hell was happening to the elevator? By now 5 minutes had passed and you didn’t see any response. You pushed the button again but still no answer.

“JUST GREAT!” you yelled, no choice but to carry your purse and walk up the stairs. Fuck! Six flights of stairs were enough work out for a year! Finally you see salvation as you get to the floor where your car is at and placed the key in the ignition. You twisted the key, but no answer. You tried it one more time and still no answer. Stuck with a car with a dead battery, at midnight, and on a parking lot! just. Your. Luck! You took out your cell phone and wouldn’t you know it your phone battery was dead as well. Now that's odd coincidence because you had made sure to have it fully loaded in the morning and you had not used it all day so it should be at least at mid charge. "FUCK! CAN THIS GET ANY WORSE!"

And it could! Because you had to go down the six flights of stairs and once in the ground floor you saw the universe’s answer to your question. The shining red sports car was stuck in the entrance way, Min Yoongi standing outside of it passing his fingers through his hair in evident frustration. He was all messy, with his shirt untucked, his tie loosened, and without his jacket. He almost seemed human!

“What are you doing here?” You both asked at the same time.

“The battery of my car is dead, what's your story?”

“My car has no gasoline. Which is odd since I filled it last night. I'm guessing those Gas Robbers I heard on the news who did it! GOD! I have a car that won’t work, my cell phone battery died as well and I'm stuck here!”

“Calm the Grump Hump, dude! We’re on the same boat here” As much as you enjoyed annoying Yoongi you could also understand his frustration, you were too tired and annoyed to even fight back or retort.

“I'm sorry” Yoongi sighed and rubbed his temples, “I'm tired, it's been a long night, and it just gets longer and longer.”

“I also have a deceased cell phone. Isn't that a coincidence” you said sarcastically.

“Coincidence indeed.” He agreed slowly looking at you with stern eyes. Deep in thought as he was getting a realization.

“Yeah, it's almost as if we were cursed…”

You remembered Madame Karma's words. "Karma doesn't lie. Plus, you can't escape Karma. If you try to escape from it, you will be forever cursed. And trust me, you don't want that to happen"

"Ridiculous!" You thought. It was ridiculous to think that Yoongi was the man of your life. You looked at him and noticed he kept looking at you strangely.

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

“No. I was only thinking of something the medium to me earlier” he shook his head, “It doesn't matter.”

Something Madame Karma told him? Holy god. Did she tell Yoongi the same things she told you? That you were the woman of his life? It couldn't be true. That was way humiliating. Even when you knew the answer, you just had to ask…..

“Yoongi, did Madame Karma mention me when she read the cards?”

He looked at her cautiously, confirming your suspicion.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because she mentioned you in my future. She said something about matching Auras and things like that…”

“Things like that? What do you mean by "Things like that"?”

“Gibberish. That we are compatible.” You scoffed using air quotes.

“Perfect for one another?”

“Exactly!”

“Now that's silly!” He scoffed to giving a half laugh and rolling his eyes

“Yeah! The greatest silliness I've heard in years.”

“Exactly. Did she tell you that if you fight against it you were going to be cursed?”

“Yeah” You said as you tried to smile but just couldn't.

“Do you think that the broken down cars and the dead cell phones are because of the curse?”

Yoongi was lost in thought for a moment even just a fraction of a second but came back and laughed it off, “Of course not. I don't believe on that silliness. Shit happens. I don't believe in that medium either. I bet she is just a hoax.”

“I read an article in the New York Times, and it says she has been very certain with many couples and she has helped the police in many cases. But when she talked about me I just didn't believe her.”

“Me neither” he smiled weakly, trying to convince himself that was true.

“Look, I'm going to go to the store to call for car assistance, if you want you can come to the store too.”

“I was going to offer you to come to the office.”

“But in the shop there is hot coffee and I have cookies” you insisted and rubbed the bridge of your nose, “Don't argue with me. The night is horrible without you and me arguing.”

“You're right. I'm sorry.” He said avoiding your eyes.

“Damn, you're not sorry, you are lame at lying” you laughed.

You walked through the garden and took a shortcut through the grass. Suddenly a click. Both of you stood still a second.

“What was that?” asked Yoongi.

“ No clue” you said. Suddenly a bunch of tubes came from the ground and began to come out water “Goddamit the sprinklers! Great! My ass is wet! Can anything worse happen?”

“Don't say that because I've discovered that many worse things can happen. Well, might as well get out of this water” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the garden. You did your best to keep up, Yoongi just pulled you even closer trying to help cover you as much as possible with his body to no avail. When you reached "Constant Cravings" just before getting to the door, you fell and grabbed herself to Yoongi. It was supposed to keep you in balanced but it made you both fall causing him landed just on top of you.

As you looked up, you were able to see Yoongi's face more closely. During a couple of seconds you could have sworn you felt as if the oxygen was being taken away. It actually felt...nice to have him on you.

“____” he incorporated himself with his forearms and the inferior part of his body was brushing against yours “Are you ok?”

"No I’m not! I’m horny and wet and it's all your fault!" You thought. You tried to move but when you noticed how your wet body just slipped under Yoongi, you froze completely. He kept looking at you and stayed completely still, but a part of his body was moving independently.

Oh My God! Wasn't cold water supposed to have a calming effect on men? Either Yoongi had a huge pickle in his pants or your theory was completely wrong! He got off and pressed his teeth.

“Are you alright?”

You just nodded and sat up, “I'm ok, wet and cold, but otherwise ok.”

“I'm glad. Now let's get out of here before we need a raft to get out.”

You tried to get up but felt a sudden a pain in your ankle.

“OW!” You shouted “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Hell yeah! Or I wouldn't have shouted”

Suddenly Yoongi bent down and grabbed you as he carried you bridal style.

“What are you doing?” The evident blush ringing your cheeks.

“I think it's obvious” he said “I'm taking you in my arms to the store.”

“I can walk!” You said defending yourself as Yoongi raised an eyebrow in disbelief “or at least I can jump on one foot till I get there”

“Yeah but it would take you a week to get to the door” he laughed, heading directly to "Constant Cravings".

“Not bad for a guy that spends his days behind a desk” you said smiling.

“I do not spend all day behind a desk!”

“ Yoongi you gotta start learning to take a joke” you giggled.

“You're so…..”he shut up in the last minute and looked at you up and down. He tightened his teeth and looked at her eyes, avoiding thinking about any part of your body that seemed to affect him with just the slightest touch “Where is your key?”

“In my bag…..that I left when I fell down!”

“Why didn't you pick it up?”

“I would have, but you carried me like a sack of potatoes all the way here” you smirked.

“Well, I'm sorry for helping you” he said ironically “next time I will let you soak yourself in the ground.”

“Alright, you're right. I'm sorry and I thank you for your help.”

“Did you hit your head when you fell” he raised an eyebrow.

“Ha, ha! No. But I know when to say I'm sorry when I'm wrong.”

“Apology accepted. Now going back to the topic of your purse...” he turned around and saw the little lump that was getting wet.

“DAMN! That purse was new!” You moaned in discontent over the loss of your new purse

“Moan later. I have to go for it and that means I have to leave you in the ground” he gently placed you down being careful not to touch any skin or dangerous areas but once you were down still held you close “Did I hurt you?

His gaze was paralyzing. And his voice, so deep like he had just woken up from a long night of passionate sex. You felt his breath so warm on your lips and noticed how close those lips were. You experimented a extracorporeal sensation as you were getting closer and closer to his lips. But as soon as you blinked, the image went away.

“_____ , did I hurt you?” He asked again, hearing the tone of concern in his voice that sent you back to reality. You shook your head in response.

“I'm fine, go” you said as you tried to get up and incorporated yourself against the wall “Go!”

"Yeah, go before I put my arms around your neck. Oh god how I wanted to touch your chest and abs to see if they are as spectacular as they seem! And I also wanted to see inside your pants to see if what I felt back there was true!" You thought.

He sighed, nodded, and went back to the garden for your purse. There was no doubt that Min Yoongi had an awesome body but Madame Karma was crazy if she thought he was the man of her life.

"WOW!"

Why were you even affected by this? It was way to just ignore it pass off the tension as just creative differences but now you couldn’t stop seeing Yoongi in a different light.

Yoongi was on his way top grab your purse as he thanked the cold shower that the sprinklers were giving him. What the hell was he doing? It was a ridiculous question since he knew exactly what was going on. The problem was that he could still feel the sensation of your body on him. He could still see the expression on your face and the erotic sensation of your body slipping underneath his. He could remember the scent of sugar on your wet skin, a mixture of sugar and flowers that shouldn't seem so attractive, but it seemed to be the sexiest perfume ever.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so ecstatic over a woman so easily. With just one the look into your eyes and just one look at your sexy, wet lips he went from zero to a hundred in just one second. A physical reaction you noticed right away. That he couldn't stop. And that he couldn't understand nor explain. Without a doubt you were an attractive woman. But why was this woman that made him so angry all the time the one that was making him feel this way?

He tightened his teeth. All this was the medium's fault! Ever since she read his future, he wasn't able to forget her words. It was madness, because he didn't believe in those things. He supposed she googled him to know about his professional life or maybe Hoseok told her about his personal life. But what she said about his future, that he had the love of his life all long right in front of him.

You.

A strange sensation overpowered him when the medium said your name. He had told the medium she was wrong, but she just focused her dark eyes and kept on about how his and your auras matched and some things like that. A load of gibberish!

He went down to pick up the purse and ran back to "Constant Cravings", where you were still waiting for him. From where he was he could see how your white blouse was now stuck to your body almost like it were a second skin. Under the moonlight you had a hot and sexy aspect that seemed to fire up Yoongi and make the situation even worse than what it already was.

When was he ever going to stop thinking about that? He was thinking of taking your wet clothes off and kissing your sexy lips. Although to be sincere, he had those thoughts even before he went to seeing the medium. Ever since the day you offered him a "Slow Trip to Pleasure". Luckily, in that moment he could set aside that thought most of the day. Maybe his thoughts were going wild just because you were wet. A wet woman can make a man fantasize a lot. Once you got dry everything was going to go back to normal. Hopefully.

He went to you and handed the wet purse.

“Thanks” you mumbled.

Once you opened the door of the shop, he carried you again in his arms taking you inside the store, trying hard not to think about how wonderful it felt to have you in his arms.

“It’s not necessary for you to take me in your arms” you whispered, but your protest was not sincere. Actually, the way your voice came out was much deeper and sexy than you had intended to but still sparked a chill in Yoongi’s body.

He looked as your huge ayes, your luscious lips, your long hair, and felt captivated. He did a huge effort to stop looking at you as he entered the store and closing the door with his foot.

“It may not be necessary taking you in my arms, but I brought you here and I'm not going to die if I take a couple more steps” That wasn't all true, because having your body so close to his WAS, in fact, going to kill him. “Come on, Let me check that ankle, then you can talk about if you need help to walk or not.”

He headed to the sofa that was placed in the left side of the store but you stopped him in the act.

“Not there, I don't want to ruin the sofa. Take me to the counter, I can manage there.”

Yoongi obeyed and took you to the counter as you sat by the cash register.

“Where is the light switch?” he asked.

“Next to the door, in the right side.”

Yoongi went back to the door and switched the light on. When he went back he saw you with her leg pulled out and making circular movement with her ankle. Drat! Even that looked hot! He forced himself to look away but his eyes were glued on you. That dreaded white blouse was stuck to your body like cellophane paper. "No, STOP! Stop thinking about it and don't look at her directly"!

“So how is it?” He asked.

"Hard and painful" a voice in his mind answered his own question but tried to ignore it.

“Its ok, look, I can move it!” You continued to make circular movements “ I think it was only the pain of the moment. At least I'm glad I wasn't wearing a skirt when I fell.”

-“Oh really?” he said softly, "Cause I would have seen your ass" he thought. Then his mind wandered off, what underwear was she wearing? Would she be wearing a combination with her bra or maybe she wasn't wearing anything at all….

“ Yoongi, are you ok?” You woke him up from his train of thought.

"No" “Yes!”

“You look rather red.”

“It's the light…..and the fact that I'm a bit tired after carrying you through the garden.”

“Are you saying I'm fat?” You pouted.

“No, why do women always ask that?”

“Because men always make commentaries that are interpreted to believe so.”

“Well, just so you know I wasn't calling you fat, you're…”

“What?” You smirked waiting for him to make his usual snarky remark.

"Great, sexy, you make my heart pound so fast and so hard that I think my heart is going to fall" his mind was at a full buzz trying to contain himself, luckly he had always been one for self restraint

“Are you looking for a compliment Ms. ______?”

“A compliment? From you? I highly doubt that! I would be completely silent if I ever heard you say a compliment from you.”

“Well if it's the only way to get you to close your mouth, I'll try it. You have great curves.”

“Wow, thanks. You must get a lot of women with that phrase” you said sarcastically, “Well, thank you, I suppose. I should get some ice.”

“Ice. Yeah. That's a good idea. Something cold is what I, I mean, you, need” Yoongi saw how you almost came down from the counter to look for ice but he stopped you on your tracks “You, young lady, stay right here and let me take a look at your ankle”

Yoongi was regretting those words as soon as he left. If he looked at you ankle, that would mean he would be very close to your body. And that was the last thing he needed. But even though he was denying getting close to you, he still came back and grabbed your ankle softly.

“May I?”

You put her hands on the counter and extended your leg a little. The image of you reclining on the counter like that burning a hot flame inside him.

“I never thought you would be the polite boy that would ask permission before he could touch.”

“I guess you don't know much about me. Now let me see your ankle” Yoongi tried to stay steady and press the ice on your ankle. He was surprised by his great skill of auto control. You continued to have your eyes glued on Yoongi with a lot of curiosity, like a cat.

“So what does a manager know about broken ankles?” You asked to break the ice.

“I stayed at a camp as a monitor and in a rescue team for many summers. It’s been a long time since that happened, but I can still remember how to fix a broken ankle” he made slow circular movements with your ankle “Does it hurt when I do this?”

“No”

He could feel the weight of your stare as he was moving your ankle. A beautiful ankle he had to let go. He looked up and saw you face as you smiled.

“So?”

“So what?” Yoongi asked in a daze.

“So what's the situation?”

"I'm guilty of having a huge desire as a cause of a transitional mental derivation. And I don't know how long I can last without having to explode"

“My ankle?” You asked as you saw that he wasn't answering your question.

“Oh… yeah it’s alright” he said, coming back to reality. He began to massage your feet “There's no need to call a surgeon.”

“That's….” You moved her ankle in Yoongi's hand “Ohh! What a joy!” she closed her eyes and made a moan, that made Yoongi become hard again “What a joy!” You screamed in pleasure

Yoongi stood still again and he could see the excitement in your eyes.

“Yoongi….I think we should take our clothes off.”

#bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi smut #jimin smut #park jimin #hoseok smut #jung hoseok #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts fanfic

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