#i think i knew it was a false alarm it just didn’t feel real. but what fucked me up is that i couldn’t t honk of what to bring. i knew we

[pepprs]

god my throat is raw from yelling / panicking. And part of me is wary wondering if it’ll happen again. omgggg

#purrs #i think i knew it was a false alarm it just didn’t feel real. but what fucked me up is that i couldn’t t honk of what to bring. i knew we #we’re close to an exit so we would be fine and i know you’re not supposed to delay getting out and that the stuff is just stuff. but my #journals and diaries.. like i brought them all here for some new years reflections and i couldn’t bring myself to bring any of them. or my #sketchbook. or my switch or ds with my animal crossing town. idk. i guess smth flashed through my head like so much of what matters to me #is digital now but that’s not fucking true at all. why did i have a hard time deciding and brought nothing when my sketchbook is the most #important thing i have i think bc it’s my scrapbook / diary. it just fucked me ip so bad. now im staring at the ceiling and my throat hurts #and im going to be so tired tomorrow. that was so scary #we didn’t even make it outside bc the alarm stopped before we left the room bc we were scrambling to find coats and masks (lol) and them my #mom called the front desk and they said it was a false alarm. so idk. for those 45 seconds it could’ve been life or death and that’s so much #to think about. everything important went out the window it was just like wtf is even happening rn and my dad said it was a fire and i was l #like how do you know. ugh. that was so scary #like what fucked me up was. all the pieces of me are spread so thin in so many journals and shit that idk which one to bring. i would have t #to take the complete collection. and i can’t do that so i have to leave all of them. that’s the choice i made in that primal moment. it #QUITE LITERALLY does not matter and is not the most important part of this to be worried abt / fucked up over but that really shook me

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 16

previous part | masterlist

synopsis: Baby Seresin-Kazansky decides to make her debut into the world. You tell Jake the reasoning behind getting the DNA test.

word count: 5.7k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, CHILD BIRTH, blood, cursing, questions of paternity, mentions of infidelity, this is it. this is the end.

There was one thing that Jake hated being woken up by, and that was the sound of a barking dog. Herc hardly ever barked, unless it was at the mailman or at Fanboy (which they couldn’t figure out why). Jake had trained Herc to be a protector and knew that his barking was a sign of danger and trouble. Which was why Jake was confused when the dog burst into his room at 2AM and started barking up a storm. 

“Herc! Shut up!” Jake yelled, and grabbed a pillow to throw in his direction, but it didn’t deter the dog a bit. Instead, Herc jumped up on the guest bed and started nudging and licking Jake’s face, “No, Herc! Get down!” But Herc did not listen and continued to bother his owner until Jake completely sat up in bed, “What!? Do you need to go out!?” 

Herc jumped down from the bed and ran out the room, and Jake rolled his eyes. Of all days for Herc to wake Jake up early, it had to be on the one day he had off. Jake got out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt from the floor, throwing it on with just a pair of boxers on his lower half. He padded down the hall towards the stairs but instead of finding Herc waiting by the front door, he found him pacing around in the living room and you sitting on the couch. Jake quickly ran down the stairs, and over to you. 

“What’s going on?” Jake asked. 

You let out a low groan and Jake’s eyes widened. You leaned forward a bit and Jake grabbed your hands, giving you something to help ground you, until the contraction subsided, “I’m having contractions.” 

“Since when?” 

“Uh,” You looked at the large clock above the fireplace, “Two hours now.” 

“Two hours!?” You winced at the sound of Jake’s voice, “Why didn’t you get me sooner? Why did you send Herc?” 

“Didn’t want to bother you,” You said and Jake frowned. 

Things had still been plenty awkward between the two of you. Even though you two had the results of the paternity test, things still hadn’t patched over. You still hadn’t told Jake one hundred percent of why you had the test done behind his back, and Jake frankly could not find it in him to care. All that really mattered was the truth had been found. 

“Ah, fuck, Jake,” You cried again as the searing pain in your back returned. 

The whole night you had been feeling unimaginable pain in your back. You thought that it was just pregnancy pain, the general discomfort that came with being 40 weeks along. But then the pain started to radiate in your stomach, and you felt the skin get tight for about thirty seconds and subside. You knew then that this was just more than pregnancy pain, this was labor pain. You walked around your bedroom for probably an hour trying to think of what to do. You knew you should’ve woken Jake as soon as the pain started, but you didn’t want this to just be a false alarm, and he woke up cranky on his day off. Then you attempted to come downstairs and make yourself some tea, and that’s when the pain seemed to increase. You couldn’t make it back up the stairs, so you sent Herc to go get Jake instead. 

“Did you call the midwife?” Jake asked as you relaxed back into the couch after the contraction subsided. 

You shook your head, “The contractions aren’t regular enough to call her. It’s every twenty minutes or so. They need to be closer.” 

“Well then who do I call?” Jake was trying hard not to panic. No matter how many hours of those classes you and Jake attended, they can never fully prepare you for the real thing. He was usually mister calm, cool and collected in high stress situations but he was a bit out of his depth here. 

“No one, Jake, it’s two in the morning.” 

Jake chuckled a bit and shook his head, “Only our baby would start their descent into the world at two in the morning.” 

You looked up at Jake, a small smile on your face and he squeezed your hand. You opened your mouth to say something, probably to apologize, but you felt the sudden wave of nausea roll over you. Jake’s eyes widened, knowing exactly how to read your body language. He quickly jumped up from the floor and ran to the bathroom to grab the small trash can. Somehow by the grace of God, he made it back before you could vomit all over the floor. 

“I got you,” Jake rubbed your back as you got sick. He pushed your hair back behind your shoulders so it wouldn’t get puke on it. 

“You can go, I’ll be fine,” You groaned as you heaved again. 

“In sickness and in health,” Jake said and you glanced up at him for a moment. 

“People say that when they get married.” 

Jake nodded, “I’m aware. Do you want to lay down or keep sitting?” 

— — — 

The morning seemed to go by painstakingly slow. Neither one of you had gotten much sleep since being woken up. Your contractions were still far apart, which allowed you some time to relax and close your eyes, but the second the pain started up again, you were wide awake. Jake had waited until a later hour in the morning to call your mom and Alyssa, the two other people you wanted at the house when you gave birth. Sarah was a bit annoyed that Jake had waited so long, knowing that she wanted to be there with you to help you through the pain, but she could understand Jake’s logic. 

You were currently sitting on the exercise ball, Jake sitting on the couch behind you and massaging your shoulders. Alyssa had placed a box fan right in front of you, which was helping cool your overheated body. Your midwife, Connie, had arrived not that long ago to give you an exam and see how far dilated you were. Everyone thought you would be farther along than you were, but you were only three centimeters dilated and your water was completely intact. 

“Why is this taking so long?” You groaned and rested your head back against Jake’s chest. 

“I don’t know,” Jake said, and pushed some of the flyaways that fell from the braid your hair was in, “What do you need?” 

“I need a fucking sandwich,” You said and Jake chuckled, “Spicy Chicken sandwich from Wendy’s.” 

“Very specific,” Jake said and then looked at Connie, “Can she have that?” 

“I would stick to something with more nutrition and carbs,” Connie said and looked at the heart monitor. You looked up at Jake and gave him your best puppy dog eyes that you could muster up. “But if she wants a chicken sandwich, I can’t stop her.”  

“Please?” You begged, “Your daughter wants it.” 

“Mhm, sure she does,” Jake said and reached over to the coffee table to grab his phone. 

“Who are you texting?” 

“Bradshaw,” Jake answered and you furrowed your eyebrows, “You think I’m going to sit in a drive through and miss any of this? He was wanting an update anyway.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek before speaking up, “You’re talking to Bradley?” Jake nodded. You thought that their friendship had been destroyed after the whole paternity mess. But it made you happy that they could put their differences aside and remain friends. Just like how you hadn’t been talking to Jake, you hadn’t really been talking to Bradley either. 

“He said he’ll be here soon with food,” Jake said and placed his phone back down. You sat up and Jake bent down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I’m gonna go wait in the kitchen, if you need anything just yell,” Connie said and left the two of you alone. You were thankful for Connie, she seemed to care for exactly what you needed at this moment. You shifted a bit to get more comfortable on the floor, and let out a sigh. 

“You never told me why you did it,” Jake said, brushing his fingertips up and down your arms as they rested on his thighs, “Why did you do the test now when you knew there was a possi-” 

“I never knew there was a possibility,” You said, “It never crossed my mind until your dad said something to me.” 

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, “When did he talk to you?” Jake was pretty much by your side the whole time his parents were around. 

“He called the night you were in the hospital,” You said. 

“What!? Where was I?” 

“Sleeping,” You sighed and turned your body to face Jake. His face was unreadable as he tried to process the new information.

— — — 

You always thought Jake looked the most at peace when he was sleeping. He was naturally beautiful, but when he was asleep and his features were resting, he looked like the real snow white. A beautiful sleeping prince. You gently ran your hand over the bandage on his forehead. He had already made a comment about seeing a plastic surgeon so he didn’t have a ‘scar like Potter’ on his forehead. But you didn’t care if he had a scar on his forehead, he was still beautiful to you. 

The shrill ring of his phone snapped you out of your daze, and you rushed to answer it before Jake could wake up. Your eyebrows furrowed at the caller ID, but you stood up quietly from your chair and stepped into the hallway to answer it. 

“Hello Mr. Seresin, it’s Y/N,” You answered sweetly, using your best teacher voice. 

“Hello dear,” Mr. Seresin said and you had to stop yourself from gagging. George always talked down to you like you were a young girl who didn’t know any better. “Where is Jacob?” 

“He is currently asleep. What can I help you with?” 

“I need to talk to my son.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Seresin, I can’t do that. But you can talk to me, since I know this conversation is probably about my daughter.” You could only imagine the fury in his green eyes at your words. You swore you could hear him clenching his jaw, and knew that the vein in his forehead was probably popping out. 

There was a beat of silence before Mr. Seresin spoke, “If you think that you are going to pass that bastard child off as Jake’s, you are wrong.” 

“This baby is Jake’s,” You sneered.  

“Are you so sure about that?” Mr. Seresin said and you gripped the phone tighter in your hand. You knew about his scare tactics. He had been using them on you since you met Jake. He had a way of playing with your head, getting you to believe that you weren’t good enough for Jake, “You two have been broken up for sometime. You really think that he hasn’t found solace in another woman. He brought a lovely woman named Jennifer home not that long ago to his sister’s birthday party.” 

You tried to let his words bounce right off your skin, but it wasn’t helping. You knew that Jake probably reverted back to his old playboy ways when the two of you broke up, but you didn’t like to think about it. You liked to tell yourself that he was just as miserable as you were when you broke up. You had spent every single night crying into your pillow. When you moved home, you didn’t leave your room for two weeks. It took Stephanie, Alyssa and your mother to help you get up from your bed because your body was just so weak. You had lost a ridiculous amount of weight from not eating and crying. 

“What are you trying to get at, George?” You asked, and leaned your back up against the wall. 

“Don’t you think for one damn second that I won’t take this case to court. I will sue you for all that you got for trying to defame my family name and ruin my son’s life.” 

“This isn’t ruining his life!” You yelled. 

“It will if he finds out that the baby is not his. If you want this to go away, you will get the paternity test done. Or it’ll be a long battle in court. And let the results come back a match for my son, we’ll fight you for custody.” 

You thought your heart was going to stop right then and there in your chest. Your throat constricted in fear as tears welled up in your eyes. George Seresin was not a man that you wanted to hear the words “will fight you in court” come from his lips. Because he meant it. 

He was notorious for suing people and winning. He sued his own siblings right out of their shares of the Seresin Ranch. He had high class lawyers, who would dig up and find any information they possibly could on you to use it against you. George had the power to swing the judges, to get in their ears and make them a friend for his side. And Jake was too scared of his father to be able to protect you. Your parents would do what they could, offer you their family lawyer and probably pay for it all. But you couldn’t risk them losing everything they had worked for. 

You swallowed hard and said barely above a whisper, “I’ll get the test done.” 

You could basically hear the sinister smile that stretched across George’s mouth through the receiver. You could only picture him snapping his fingers at some assistant of his to grab him a cigar and a glass of whiskey, as if he was celebrating some big win or stock investment. 

“Good, I know you weren’t that stupid,” George said, “Get the test done immediately and send us the results.” 

“Yeah,” You responded. 

“It is not ‘yeah’, it is ‘yes, sir’,” George yelled and you jumped at the sound of his voice, “Didn’t that flyboy father of yours teach you any sort of respect!” 

Your back straightened as you had tears rolling down your cheeks, “Yes sir,” You answered, “He did teach me respect. You will get the results as soon as I have them.” 

“Don’t fuck this up. Or you will never raise your child.” 

— — — 

Jake’s jaw was dropped as you leaned forward to throw up into the bucket again. He knew his dad was evil and vile, but he didn’t know that he was this evil and vile. The one time Jake made the comment about taking you to court for custody, he immediately felt guilty. The last thing he’d ever want to do is take a child away from their mother. He knew damn well he couldn’t raise a child on his own, his career aside, Jake didn’t know the first thing about babies. He blinked a couple times as the sound of you retching met his ears and he snapped out of his repertoire and rubbed your back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jake whispered, and all you could do was nod as you waited for the nausea and the contraction to subside. 

“I need to stand,” Your voice was gravely from the acid you just spit-up. Jake moved from his spot on the couch, so you could turn on your hands and knees to stand up. However, you found the spot of laying your upper body on the couch very comfortable, “Nevermind, I’m staying here.” 

Jake chuckled, “Pretty sure that’s the position in how we got here.” 

“Jacob Thomas,” You gasped and looked over your shoulder at him. Jake laughed a bit louder as he came to kneel behind you. He gently grabbed your hips and pressed his hands to your lower back, applying counter pressure, “Fuck, that feels amazing.” 

“Yeah, you said that-” 

“Enough!” You giggled. 

“Sorry,” Jake said, and leaned down to kiss your bare shoulder. You had stripped off your shirt ages ago, and it lay somewhere in the living room. The only thing you were wearing was a sports bra and a pair of Jake’s boxers. 

You looked back at him, “Thank you for all this.” 

“Hey, I helped create her,” His large hands went to your bump, gently lifting it up relieving some of the pressure in your hips, “The least I can do is help you get through this.” 

— — — 

Bradley looked slightly confused as he leaned against the doorway. “Is she even human? I thought labor was supposed to be the most painful experience known to human history. . .how the hell is she asleep?” He looked at your sleeping body from the otherside of the living room. It was going on hour 10 of labor and you were exhausted. He and Ice brought food for everyone at the house, and the spicy chicken sandwich you had requested. 

When Rooster heard the news that you were going into labor, he had a hard time calming his nerves. He paced around his house for hours, waiting for an update. He got so antsy he decided to drive to Ice’s house. He was surprised to see Maverick there, but much like his godson, he was having a hard time keeping his nerves in check. Ice put the two of them to work, helping him fix up the backyard for the summer. 

“There’s a point during birth where the body and mind just get so tired that they shut down,” Connie explained, “It’s like a computer crashing when it gets overworked. She’s not in a deep REM sleep, but she’s resting. It’s good, saves her energy for active labor.” 

“I’m gonna go switch him spots,” Rooster said, and looked back towards the couch. Jake was watching the rise and fall of your chest, still holding your hand as you slept, “Give him a chance to eat.” 

Sarah nodded as Bradley walked into the room, and tapped Jake’s shoulder. Wordlessly, Jake stood up from his chair and hugged Bradley, before going into the kitchen to eat. Rooster sighed as he sat down next to your sleeping frame, and gently ran a hand over your belly. He was going to miss the sight of your growing bump, but he was going to love the sight of seeing your daughter even more. You started to stir, and Rooster sat up a bit straighter. A small whimper left your mouth and his eyes widened at the sight of your belly moving. 

“Ow,” You cried. Your eyes were still shut, but you reached a hand out towards whoever was sitting next to you. Rooster grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Breath, Bug,” Rooster said, “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” You nodded, eyes still closed as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips. You took a couple deep breaths as you squeezed Rooster’s hand tightly. He wasn’t sure when you got so strong, but he thought you might break his hand. When the contraction subsided, you slowly fluttered your eyes open and looked at Rooster. 

“You’re here,” You said softly, and he smiled at you, “Did you-” 

“Your sandwich is in the fridge,” Rooster answered and you laughed, “In the most pain of your life and you still want food.” 

“What can I say? I’m a hungry girl,” You shrugged. There was a beat of silence between the two of you before you spoke up, “I’m sorry, Rooster. For everything.” 

“You don’t need to be apologizing,” Rooster said, “I should be apologizing to you. I haven’t made this easy on you at all. I love you Bug, I’m always going to love you no matter what.” 

“I know, Rooster,” You smiled and he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead, “Can you get me my sandwich now?” 

Rooster laughed and helped you sit up on the couch. Sarah brought in your sandwich, so you and Rooster can still have some time alone. Jake watched the two of you as you happily ate your sandwich. Over the past couple weeks Jake had come to the realization that nothing was going to take Rooster away from you and vice versa. Jake had once before learned to live with Rooster, and he was prepared to do it again if that was going to make you happy. That’s what he cared about more than anything, it was your overall happiness. 

Ice walked over to Jake, as he leaned against the door and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Jake looked up at him. 

“You’re a good man, Jake,” Ice said. 

Jake scoffed and shook his head, “I’m not a good man, Ice.” 

“Well, what do you call a man who stands by the woman who is carrying your child?” Ice asked. 

“A man,” Jake said, and finished off his cup of coffee, “Don’t have to be a good man to stand by the woman you love. Just gotta be a man.” 

Ice smiled to himself as Jake walked into the living room, and sat down on the other side of you. It was like deja vu, seeing the three of you sitting on the couch, fighting over the carton of fries. Sarah walked over to her husband and put her arms around his waist, and leaned into his side. Ice put his arm around his wife and pulled her in close. They were enjoying their last moments as parents before they became grandparents. 

— — — 

It was as if everything started moving at super speed. You guessed that the spicy chicken sandwich had done the trick, and your water had broken. And just as Connie had told you, everything started to pick up speed. One moment, you're laying on your side having Jake run his fingers through your hair, and the next you are starting to transition to get ready to push. Your water had broken all over poor Bradley’s shoes and he took that as his que to leave.

“Oh my god!” You groaned. You were on your hands and knees, Jake applying counterpressure to your back. Alyssa was helping Connie get the tub set up in the living room for you to get in. Jake was trying his best not to panic. 

“I know Y/N, but you gotta breathe through it,” Connie said, testing the temperature of the water, “Are you ready to move or do you want to stay where you are?” 

“I can’t fucking move!” You yelled, which was followed by a loud wail. Jake felt his heart breaking in his chest at the sounds of your cries. He never ever wanted to see you in any sort of pain, “Make it stop! Make it stop, please!” 

“Do you want to get in the tub?” Jake asked you, and you nodded letting out a shuddering breath, “Okay, let’s get you moved.” 

Jake helped you sit back on your knees as Alyssa stood in front of you and helped pull you to your feet. It felt like the baby had dropped even further into your pelvis as you stood. Jake helped pull the boxers down your legs and then you stepped into the warm water of the tub. You laid back against the side, feeling some relief from being in the water. Jake grabbed the bottom of his shirt to strip it off, when there was a knock at the door. 

“Who the fuck is at the goddamn door!” You cursed and Alyssa grabbed your hand, and placed a cool washcloth on your head. 

Jake ran to the door and opened it, his jaw dropping in shock. 

“Now is not a good fucking time, Margaret,” Jake cursed at his mother. 

“I-I know,” Margaret said, her voice shaky and unsteady. In his whole lifetime, Jake had never heard his mother’s voice be so unsure of herself, “Sarah texted me and told me that Y/N was in labor and I. . . I wanted to be here.” 

Jake looked over at you as Alyssa fixed your hair into a bun, and helped you adjust in the tub, “She doesn’t need you here. She doesn’t need the added-” 

“Jake,” You cried out, “Let her in.” 

You made eye contact with Margaret, and the woman looked like she was near tears. Jake looked from you to his mother, and stepped out of the way to let her in. 

“Don’t fucking say a word, or I’ll kick you out myself,” Jake threatned, stopping his mom in the doorway. 

“I won’t,” Margaret promised. 

“Jake! Get in here!” Connie yelled and Jake sprinted towards the tub, taking his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the living room. Alyssa and Connie helped you sit up, so Jake could climb into the water behind you. Margaret found a spot on the other side of the tub by Sarah. Your mother gave Margaret a small smile as she kneeled down next to her. 

“Alright, Y/N when you feel a contraction I want you to push and I’ll count to ten,” Connie answered, and you nodded. 

You took a deep breath as you felt a contraction ripple through your body, “Fuck!” You yelled, gripping Jake’s hands tightly. He helped you curl forward as you pushed. 

“-Nine, ten!” Connie said and you leaned back against Jake, already completely spent. 

You took a couple quick breaths as you prepared to push again. It felt like being ripped apart, as the baby’s head dropped lower and lower. You couldn’t even hear Connie’s encouragement, or Jake’s who was right in your ear the whole time. The blinding pain caused white spots in your vision. 

“I can’t. . .” You panted, as your mother wiped the sweat from your forehead. Jake kissed your temple and readjusted your grip on his hands. 

“You got this baby,” Jake encouraged as you felt another contraction. He helped you curl forward to push. A scream left your lips as you held his hands tightly. He buried his face in your hair, feeling tears in his eyes at hearing you scream in pain. 

“You’re crowning,” Connie said, “Do not push. You’re going to feel the need to push, but do not. You’ll tear.” 

“That’s fucking great, Connie,” You sassed, and you felt the rumbling of laughter from Jake, “Sorry.” 

“I’ve heard worse,” Connie smiled, “Just take deep breaths and let your body push the baby out. You’ll feel when her head is out.” 

“Mom, is she bald?” Jake asked and Margaret looked up at him in shock, “You said I was bald until I was two. Does she have hair or not?” 

Margaret looked at you and you nodded, before taking a quick glance and smiled, “She didn’t get your genes, that’s for sure.” 

You groaned, feeling a contraction, “Beg to differ, got his big ass head.” The pain was worse than when you were actively pushing. It felt like your body was on fire, and you couldn’t do anything but breathe through it. 

“Alright, next contraction, Y/N, you need to push,” Connie said and adjusted her position, sitting up a bit more. 

You looked up at Jake, and he nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, “Bring our girl into the world. C’mon mama,” Jake helped you curl forward as you felt a contraction. 

“You’re doing good, sweetheart, keep pushing,” Connie said and you closed your eyes tightly. 

You were clenching your jaw so hard you were surprised you weren’t breaking your teeth. You had tears rolling down your cheeks as you pushed with all the strength you had left. You felt your blood rushing past your ears, the only thing helping ground you was Jake’s hands on your own. But then came a rush of relief, as you felt a small body being placed on your chest. You gasped, as if you had been holding your breath underwater, and leaned back against Jake, his large hands covering yours. Your mind was so overclouded with stimulation, that you couldn’t think of words to say, instead you turned your head to Jake, whose eyes were filled with love as he looked at the baby in front of him. 

“Did I just have a baby?” You asked and Jake chuckled. 

“Yeah, you did,” Jake said, tears in his own eyes. Your baby’s lungs were clearly working as her cries filled the room. You let out an airy laugh as you looked at her, seeing that she had a head full of hair and green eyes. Jake didn’t know that you could feel love at first sight twice in your life, but here he was, being proven wrong. 

Alyssa was in total awe seeing her best friend give birth to her goddaughter, and was already thinking of all the ways to spoil her. Sarah put his arm around Margaret pulling her into a hug, having shared the joy in watching their first grandchild being born. 

“Wren,” Jake said, and you looked over at him, “Wren Montgomery Kazansky.” 

“Seresin,” You added. 

“Now that’s a mouthful,” Alyssa said and you chuckled, and you looked down at your little girl. 

“But it fits,” You sniffled and ran your fingers over the dark hair on her head, “Wren Montgomery Seresin-Kazansky.” 

— — — 

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or much of what happened after giving birth. Your brain sort of turned it all off as you watched Connie give Wren her newborn exam, your mother helped clean you up a bit, and you fed Wren for the first time. Somehow you got upstairs to your bed, the soft glow of the lamp filling the darkened room. You groaned a bit, and looked around the room, spotting Jake sitting in the rocking chair. He was shirtless, holding Wren’s tiny body to his chest. You didn’t think she was little when you were delivering but seeing her in Jake’s arms she didn’t look real. She looked like a little babydoll with a cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Jake leaned his head down to kiss her soft head. 

“Is that Blackbird?” You asked and Jake looked up at you. 

He nodded, “Remember when you tried teaching me it on the guitar. You said it was one of the easiest songs to play.” 

“It is,” You smiled. Jake stood up from the rocking chair and walked over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed. Wren was sleeping, her beautiful little face completely relaxed, her little lips slightly parted. You didn’t know that you could fall in love with the noises a newborn made, but it was the best thing you had ever heard in your life. 

Jake had let everyone know that Wren was born and told them that he would let them know when they could come visit. You had a very strict rule that there would be no stopping by unannounced, and everyone respected that. Though you know that the dagger squad was itching with excitement to come see her, especially Bob, he loved babies. Your mother, Margaret and Alyssa only stayed for a little bit after the birth, all of them wanting to give you and Jake time to relax with your baby. Your mom was going to stay for a couple days as you and Jake adjusted to being parents. 

“How are you feeling?” Jake asked and you glanced up at him for a second too distracted by your little girl. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Y/N,” Jake gave you a warning and you looked up at him again, “How are you feeling?” 

“Still sore, incredibly freaking tired,” You groaned, “I’m also wearing a diaper so that’s super sexy.” 

“Matching with Wren,” Jake joked and you gently nudged him, “Are you in pain?” 

“Yeah, kinda. Connie said I'll feel cramping as my uterus shrinks. But right now, I’m hungry.” 

Jake nodded, “I can go fix you something to eat.You okay with Wren by yourself?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. She needs to feed soon,” Jake handed you the baby, making sure you were both secure before kissing your forehead and climbing down from the bed. 

Wren cooed in your arms, probably smelling the scent of your milk. You weren’t sure if there was a more perfect baby in the world than Wren Seresin-Kazansky. You gently ran the tip of your finger over her soft face, her eyelashes were fanned out over her cheeks. She looked so much like Jake. Margaret showed you a picture of Jake after he was born, and the similarity was uncanny. You watched as Wren’s face scrunched up and a small cry left her lips. 

“Oh baby, are you hungry?” You cooed and pulled the strap of your bra down so you could nurse her. Wren latched easily, her cries ceasing. Jake had made a comment the first time Wren latched about her being like her father, which earned him an eye roll. You gently patted Wren’s back as she nursed, “Blackbird, huh? Is that your nickname? Birdie?” Her eyes opened and looked at you for a moment, before they went closed again. 

“Please let it only be a nickname, I’m not sure if I can handle you being a pilot. But, you come from a long line of pilots. Your daddy, your granddaddy, your uncles. I might be outnumbered on that one.” You bent down to place a kiss on Wren’s forehead, “But whatever you want to be, I’ll be proud of you.” 

Jake returned back to the room with a plate of snacks and your water cup. You were placing Wren down in her bassinet, the little girl with a full belly and a clean diaper, all content in her swaddle. Jake wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get tired of the sight of you and Wren. He had already changed the background on his phone to a picture of you and her. Though, he was certain that if you found the picture you would tell him to delete it, but you looked amazing for just giving birth to a child. 

“How are my girls?” Jake asked, setting the plate of snacks on the bedside table. He gently helped you lay back in bed and adjusted the blankets around you, “Connie said that a heating pad might help you feel better with the cramp, and I got you tylenol. What time did Wren get done feeding? Do you need- why are you looking at me like that?” 

You were biting back a bright smile, “Your girls, huh?” 

Jake nodded, a smile on his own face, “Yeah, my girls. No matter what, you two will always be my girls.”

tag list: @materialgirl01 @cherrycola27 @love2write2626 @averyhotchner @xoxabs88xox @nagygreta @bioodforbiood @violyn20 @abaker74 @misshoneypaper @callsign-joyride @auroraboreallisfine @thedroneranger @rosewritesitout @nobody7102 @bradleybeachbabe @wildxwidow @cm27078 @caitsymichelle13 @whisperofsong @bonitanightmxres @maverooster @mizzzpink @khaylin27 @shawnsblue @shelbycillian @sexualparkour @thenewdaysalreadyhere @fandom-princess-forevermore @double-j @momc95 @buxkybarnez @paige-alexandra-may @coffeebooksandfandom @86laura11 @some-lovely-day @ohemgeewhat @itsmytimetoodream @emmaelix @springholland @atarmychick007 @okiegirl24 @i3k2ts @happierbelle @celestialeviereads @kandierteveilchen

note: there will be an epilogue. . . eventually. but like the rest of my characters I can't say goodbye to Lil Kazansky, Jake and Wren quite yet and I love the asks about their dynamics so keep sending them in! thanks for all the love <3

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #Jake seresin #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin x y/n #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #what to expect

[lum13]

is it possible for a Wednesday x Reader where Wednesday meets Reader again and she thought reader died long ago but is actually alive and reader helps Wednesday in her investigations? (Reader actually died but made a bargain at some deity or something and Reader protects Wednesday from Thornhill from a gunshot and before Reader disappears, Wednesday confesses her love for reader for the first and last time)

The ghost of you

“You’re not real.”

You smiled softly.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” 

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

Looking up from her typewriter, her orbs met yours. Moonlight tracing her skin, she has never been more beautiful.

“I’m back,” You said, “Did you miss me?”

A pause. She stared blankly, before getting back to her novel again.

“I thought I told you to get out of my head.” She replied– her face remaining unchanged.

“Too bad.” You giggled softly, “I’m not inside your head.”

“You died six years ago.” Wednesday snapped, her lips turning into a scowl. You pursed your lips, your eyebrows knitted in a thin line.

“I'm back now.” You tried, but was silenced by a glare. Your eyes averted, you drowned in a mix of guilt, pain, and everything else. Though those feelings screamed otherwise, you smiled bitterly, locking eyes with the raven haired girl.

“Stop trying to make me delusional.” She growled.

“Deny all you want, Wednesday. I’m not dead.” You chuckled, bringing yourself closer, leaning on the desk. “I’m living, can’t you see?”

She didn’t want to admit it. She wasn’t going to admit it. She didn’t want to go through all of it again– she didn’t want to go through the heartbreak again.

She loved you, but the universe seemed to prefer the two of you apart.

“I saw that marking on the statue.” You commented, peeking over, alarming the raven haired girl. “In the hallways? You know what statue I’m talking about, right? Uh, Edgar Allen?”

Wednesday took her moment to compose herself, before turning to look at you.

“Why are you still stuck in my head?” She said, shutting her book close. “I thought I had gotten rid of you.”

“I’m not in your head.” You whined, burying your face into your hands. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“No matter how many times you repeat that false statement, I will not believe it.” 

You sighed, before giving up. This girl can not be convinced, you realized.

“You could’ve just said a thank you.” You raised your brows, huffing. 

“I don’t thank ghosts.” She claimed, crossing her arms. She scanned your standing figure, before turning back to the stacks of books on the bookshelves. “Be thankful you have your feet. Most don’t.”

You gasped, seemingly offended by her remark. You clutched your chest dramatically, “I’m hurt, Wednesday addams. You think I’m a ghost now.” 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Because you are.” She said, before grabbing her things to leave you alone in the library. You watched her growing smaller as the distance between you two enlarged, sighing.

It wasn’t her fault. It was your fault– you and your stupid younger self.

“I never knew that ghosts party, too.”

Your lips curved upwards at the familiar voice. “Hello to you too, Wednesday.”

You felt the tilt of the couch from the girl’s weight as she sat beside you. Faint music played in the background, making you hum to the melody. You leaned back sleepily, sinking in the chilly atmosphere. 

“Why are you here?” You heard her say.

You lifted your head to scan the girl’s form. Her hair was tied up, out of her usual braid. Her dress fit her perfectly– she was magnificent.

“Ghosts party too.” You grinned, swaying your legs in the air. You could feel her glare, but decided not to bother.

“Who are you with?” You asked.

“Elaborate.”

“Your partner. Who is it?” 

The girl paused, as if hesitant to give an answer. “Tyler.”

“Ah, the weathervane boy.” You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Do you like him?”

“No.” Wednesday said swiftly, too fast for her liking. “No. I don’t.”

You hummed in reply, wrapping your arm around yourself. You sighed– you were tired. You were tired and wanted to sleep more than anything else. Being in this party sucked all your energy. 

“I recommend not to. He has a bad vibe.” You muttered, before drifting off to sleep. It probably isn't the best choice to fall asleep here, but you didn’t really care about anything at this point.

It’ll work out, you figured.

“What if Xavier isn’t the murderer?” 

Wednesday glanced at you– lying down on her bed, facing the ceiling as you played with your sleeves. 

“He is.” She replied simply, dusting her leather jacket, grabbing her flashlight from her desk. 

“He might not be.” You said, “Always think of the variables.”

“If he’s not the killer, we’ll have to do it over.” She said, “Find out who’s behind all this.”

She stared at herself in the mirror, before her eyes flickered back to you.

“Hopefully we get it right.”

“--but at least I’ll get to kill you, Wednesday.” 

You watched in horror as the scene emerged before your eyes. With Thornhill’s gun pointed to the raven haired girl’s head, you felt yourself freeze, panic washing over you. 

Run, your mind screamed, run and save her.

But your feet stayed planted on the ground. You couldn’t do anything– you couldn’t do anything.

Bang of the gun rang through the school. 

Are you really going to let it happen again?

Your feet moved on their own. You tackled the girl out of the way, a piercing pain following.

The excruciating pain made it hard to breathe. Were you even breathing? You couldn’t tell. Blood stained your uniform, the red blooming from your collarbone– slowly reaching out. You heard muffled gasps and screams, though it was hard to form words due to your extreme pain.

Then you saw Wednesday– her eyes wide and round, shaking your shoulders, desperate to keep you awake. Her mouth was moving– what was she saying?

Then you saw it.

I love you.

You felt the stinging of the tears threatening to come out. It didn’t take long for it to drop.

Familiar feelings of guilt stabbed you in your heart. I’m sorry, you wanted to say. 

I’m sorry for making you go through it again.

You closed your eyes, letting darkness take over. 

Maybe in the next life, you can be happy together.

Maybe in the next life, the universe would let the two of you be.

Oh, how you hoped it would be true.

-

don’t we hate angst.. :)

also not proofread bc it’s like 4am in Korea rn I am this close to falling asleep

#Wednesday Addams x reader #Wednesday Addams x you #wednesday addams #jenna Ortega x reader

[permettez-moi]

More ruins of gorlan audiobook thinkies:

Arald asking Will not to tell Halt that he told Will it was hid master leading the cavalry, as he didn’t want Halt to get angry with him. I like how this indicates they have butted heads before, as most characters in the series are shown to be cool headed, or, if they aren't, they rarely actually argue. So in a way I like how this request indicates it has happened before, getting rid of a bit of the feeling of 'they all magically get along'

Halt including Will in his message to the baron 'tell the baron that Halt and his apprentice Will are tracking the boar' just the fact that Halt not only adds that his apprentice is coming, but that he is called Will feels so important? It's like Halt is showing how much Will matters to him, and that, even though he is a mere apprentice, he is important

'Halt reigned in for a few seconds to explain, and Will brought tug to a stop beside him' the way I died because Flanny boy obviously had to say 'to a stop' instead of 'to a halt' kills me

I am absolutely obsessed with the image of Horace, absolutely beaten up, a black eye and bleeding lip, holding a wooden sword, standing there ready to protect will (I am thinking of a specific image, but can't pinpoint it, like, slightly hunched, maybe leaning against something, in any case, a real power stance)

When Will got scared because Gil dissapeared out if sight on the planes (when hunting kalkara) Halt says that it's alright, and he rather Will warn him too often, then too little, and then, I quote 'Halt knew only all too well, that having called a false alarm once, Will might be reluctant to react one time, and that might be fatal for all of them' ALL THE POSSIBLE THINGS THIS COULD RELATE TO??? Did Halt once feel foolish like this, and didn't warn crowley or the group or something, causing terrible things?? Is this somehow related to ferris, where, after the first attack, he told his thoughts to someone who reacted badly, not doing it the next time and then nearly getting drowned??

I FORGOT ABOUT THE WILLYS KISS OMG THE KUSS THE KIDS I SCREAMED OUT LOUD

Both Rodney and Arald being happy that Will chose Halt, you cannot tell me that that isn't because they saw Halt was happier with Will in his life

HALT SMILING BECAUSE WILL CHOSE HIMMMMMM I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS MAN

WAIT THE CONFESSION ABOUT WILL'S FATHER IS IN THE FIRST BOOK??? In my head it came way later! Also got teary eyed by this btw

Brb I am crying now

#ranger's apprentice #ra #rangers apprentice #john flanagan #the ruins of gorlan #I am in love with these characters #Klock listens to the audiobook

[neonacity]

ARCANE | CH.7 | NCT DREAM X READER

Summary: When you decided to apply for a researcher post in an elusive institute, you already had the feeling that you’ll be getting yourself knee-deep into something out of the ordinary. But desperate needs require desperate measures, and so you embraced the invite, despite all the alarm signals urging you to run away. What you found out was nothing you’d ever expected.

Seven boys.

Seven human deviants granted with abilities tied to the legendary Arcana Cards.

Welcome to Project Dream.

Pairing: Various Dream Members x Reader

Trigger Warnings/Themes: violence, torture, trauma, very slight yandere themes, poly dynamics, suggestive themes, language, psychological, mystery, sci-fi. Romance will take a little bit of a backseat on this one since this is more of a suspense-driven plot, but it will still be threaded in the overall story. The concept of the tarot or Arcana cards will be loosely used throughout the series. Note that I am not a trained doctor so there may be some slips here and there about medical things. Again, this is a work of fiction and I am not implying any likeness between the characterization here of the boys to their real life counterparts. I also reserve the rights to all my work—I do not post anywhere else other than tumblr. Minors DNI.

> CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH.3 | CH.4 | CH.5 | CH.6

Chapter Song: 

Can You Keep a Secret? > Ellise

The dreams have become a normal part of your nights by now.

You already know where you are before your vision even came into focus. The sprawling, endless walls, the carpeted floor half covered with smoke, and the sole white door with the burned bronze knob welcomed you with the familiarity similar to a home you've long left behind. You've grown so accustomed to this slice of scene so much that you’ve memorized every single detail about it—or at least the ones that remain the same every time you find yourself in this imagined world. 

That is probably one of the oddest things about your dreams. While you always end up in the spot you always find yourself in—within reach by the door you can never seem to open—the details around you also shifts every time in the slightest of ways. For every night you visit it, it becomes even more vivid with sharper details that weren’t there before: new cracks on the wall, a loose nail on the door frame, the sound of distant footsteps rushing on hallways you just can't see. It transforms little by little, coming into focus, almost as if this miniscule slice of moment is slowly shaping into reality right in front of your very eyes.

Today, it was the smell of something burning that you could clearly pick up.

"I don't think you should open it, noona."

You turned your head to the right to see Jisung standing by your side. This is the first time you actually had someone properly show up in your dream, though instead of being shocked by his presence, you regarded him calmly as if it was natural to see him there. In your head, there is no reason to panic or even question things. 

After all, none of these is real. 

"Why?" You asked the boy now as you quietly studied his profile. He didn’t look at you, his eyes set on the same white door, but you noticed how his gaze flickered at your question. He looked down as a torn expression skimmed his features.

"It's not time yet," he said simply.

"What are we waiting for exactly?"

"Nothing. And also everything."

You slightly frowned and turned your attention to the smoking door again.

"But someone on the other side might need our help," you reasoned out.

"They do. But we can't help them yet. Not right now."

The logical part of you knew that none of your conversation makes sense and yet you oddly accepted whatever Jisung was saying without another word. It was like you were trapped in a bubble that kept half of your usual emotions suppressed, giving you a false sense of security that made you accept things as they are at the moment. You did, however, turn to the boy beside you with a smile.

"Thank you for protecting me back then. You made sure I wouldn't get hurt during your drill…"

For the first time since he showed up, Jisung actually looked at you. He gave you a small shy smile, and you noted the slight flushing of his cheeks with amusement. How strange. If you're crazy, you'd actually think you were talking to the real him.

"It's okay. I wanted to do it. And I promised her."

You leaned your head slightly to the side in curiosity.

"Her? Who is ‘her’?"

The moment you asked that question, time seemed to have slowed down. Jisung's lips moved to give you a name, the sound of it making your lips part and your eyes round in shock. You heard it clearly, you were sure of it, but as soon as you did, it was dissolving in your memory as if an imaginary hand is forcing you to forget it. A ringing in your ears followed, starting first as a low hum before picking up in intensity until you had to throw your hands to cover the sides of your head to make it stop. You could barely hear yourself thinking and a splitting pain at the base of your neck made you squint in agony.

Ring! Ring!

The sudden intake of breath you sucked in knocked you out from your sleep. Eyes wide, it took you a few seconds to register where you are as you stared unseeingly at the ceiling above you. The ringing in your sleep was still there, but instead of it being in your head, it was coming from somewhere in your bed which, you realized, was half covered by stray papers and folders. Briefly, you remembered how you were trying to read some of the old test results from Project Dream's files last night before you obviously passed out judging from your awkward angle now against your headboard.

With a groan, you tried to sit yourself up on your bed to try and fish for the source of the sound. It almost took you a full minute before you finally managed to pull your phone from a pile of papers at the foot of your bed. You answered it without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

There was a brief two second silence before Kun's voice came on the line.

"You're still sleeping?"

You glanced at your clock now as you rubbed a hand over your eyes. It registered 6:30AM.

"Was. Why are you calling so early?"

"I'm at Brick and Beans. The coffee shop you said you always go to. Can you meet me here as soon as you can?"

The ache in your joints and the heaviness in your eyes were screaming for you to get more sleep, but there was something about the tone of his voice that made you swing your legs over from your bed groggily. 

"I can… uhh… get there in 30 minutes. I just need to get ready. Did something happen?"

"Jaemin revealed his Arcana last night."

You froze in the middle of getting up.

"What?"

"I saw the report. It was just filed, but apparently there was an unscheduled individual test drill that happened last night and he just… showed it."

A cold feeling washed over you. Stiffly, you grabbed what you needed in a rush and gave Kun a few quick words before cutting the call.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes."

******* "I don't understand why he would do this."

Your gaze didn’t waver from the file you were reading even as you heard Kun’s whispered question. Not even a fourth of the cafe is full with how early it is, but the two of you tried to make yourselves as invisible as possible by camping on the farthest corner booth in the room. You swallowed before tapping on the screen of the tablet you were holding to read through the case summary you’ve been going over for the last ten minutes since you arrived.

‘Na Jaemin, 22, one of the uncategorized patients of Project Dream has manifested his skills during a routine sensory drill. While no physical disturbances were registered in the test room, one of the assigned staff in the control booth showed signs of hypnosis and attacked a fellow employee. The closest trigger, as reviewed in the video recording, was the patient’s vocal orders.’

“Was anybody hurt?” you asked Kun now, your voice low. The pause he made before giving an answer was full of meaning.

“Just a black eye according to Ten. I checked with him this morning, it wasn’t anything serious. I think Jaemin really was just trying to show what he can do. He could have done something much worse.”

His last statement made a chill seep into your already cold palms. That’s the thing. He could have pulled off something bigger, or he could have done nothing at all. Ever since that unexpected meeting that you had with him a couple of days back, there is one thing that you've solidified in your head with no room for doubt or second guessing. 

Na Jaemin is dangerous—if not the most threatening of the group so far, for all the right and wrong reasons. 

While he may not be capable of causing physical harm like Mark, Jisung, or Chenle or get inside people’s heads like Renjun and Haechan, he can pull off one of the most nefarious things one can do to a fellow human: steal their self-agency and bend them to follow his bidding.

Briefly, flashbacks of that night with him came rushing into the forefront of your mind again.

*******

“Why are you doing this?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you tried to keep your ground in the darkened room. You didn’t know if it was his smile that was making you feel so heady or if he was actually trying to put you under his spell, but you gave everything you could so as not to fold under his stare. He was barely touching you, but it almost felt like he had his hands around your throat from the way you were trying to keep up with your breathing.

He, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying every second of the moment. He looked more wickedly beautiful than ever under the limited light of the room, especially when his lips twitched at your question.

“Do what? Princess, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Don’t play mind games with me," you finally snapped from the tension. "I'm not stupid. You’re trying to threaten me.”

An unexplainable emotion flickered in his eyes at your words. For a quick moment, you actually thought he looked guilty… maybe even a little hurt, but the look was gone before you could entirely take it in. Was it a trick of light? Were the shadows simply playing games on you?

“You already know what we need from you… Don’t you?” he asked softly as he gently let go of the lock of your hair that he had been holding between his fingertips. Your heart stilled at the question. Renjun's tip. Of course he knew. 

“It’s hard for us to trust anybody, but they said you could do it," he continued, taking your silence as a confirmation to his question. He took a slight step back to give you more breathing space and you watched him unwaveringly as he seemed to contemplate his next words. "I wanted to believe that, but if you’re going to help us, you need to be careful of who you trust too."

Your eyes ever so slightly rounded in realization. Is that why he reacted that way about Winwin?

“What do I need to do?” your voice sounded steadier now as you tried to read the emotion stirring just underneath his brown eyes. “Tell me and I’ll try to–”

“I wish I could but there are questions I don’t know the answers myself. You’ll have to be the one to figure it out for all of us. That's why you're here.”

You frowned in confusion. Before you could even ask another question, however, he had already turned and started making his way to the door. You considered calling out to him, but then he stopped and looked back at you with a smile that made you pause. 

“I’m not a bad person. I just want to make sure you don’t get distracted, is all. You’re right though. I am jealous, but that’s because I’ve never been a big fan of sharing with strangers," he said with a lilt in his voice. You were just about to say something when he ever so gently cut you off again.

“Be careful of who you put your trust on, Princess. After all, the devil can make itself look like a friend.”

*******

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Kun’s voice snapped you back to reality. Glancing up at him, you quickly realized what he was talking about when you saw the look in his face. You quickly shifted your gaze away, your eyes landing instead on the second part of the report you’ve been reading. The words jumped there as if they had a life of their own.

Name: Na Jaemin Arcana No.: 15 Arcana Tag: The Devil | IL Diavolo Skill: Compulsion, Mind Control, and Manipulation

“Yes. I’ve figured it out for a while now," you replied quietly. "I’m sure you had an idea too. You saw what he did in the test drill after all.”

The look he gave you confirmed what he didn’t directly answer. He didn’t push you to explain why you decided to keep quiet about the information, and you did the same to him.

“You think he just slipped when he revealed his Arcana then?”

You shook your head confidently. “No. That’s impossible. Jaemin slipping about something is the last thing that could happen here. Do you remember what happened during the test drill? He can plant ideas in people’s heads. Make them believe things or forget something. He could have erased this from everyone’s memories if he wanted to so I’m sure he did this for a reason.”

“But what? And why now?”

You sighed before leaning slightly on the table. “Kun, what if he’s doing it because he knows we’re trying to help them? Maybe that’s the trigger that they’ve been waiting for–to look for someone they can trust within Cypher. You said it yourself, they only started acting up when…”

“When you came,” Kun finished what you couldn’t say. You simply stared at him, looking torn for a full few seconds, before you leaned back on your seat.

“I don’t think it’s specifically because of me. I think they really were just waiting for someone–anyone who they think would be willing to help.”

Kun shrugged and pulled his glasses off so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. That still didn’t explain why Jaemin did it—how does showing his Arcana help us in any way? If anything, it works for Cypher’s favor.”

“We’ll just have to continue digging for the answers. You sure you couldn’t access any of their personal history?”

“Other than the fact that they were all brought in to the institute the same day, no. Other important records about them are locked from me, I even only got their date of arrival here by asking information from Ten because he had to give them a checkup on their first day. But that at least ups the possibility that they did come from only one place.”

You nodded slowly. “Well, at least we have a good start,” you said as you closed the tablet and grabbed for your bag to leave. “Let’s go. We have more work to do.”

Kun sighed loudly behind you but followed you out of the booth anyway.

“I’d use other adjectives for the start we have, but sure. Lead the way, Miss Sherlock.”

******* Your fingers skimmed over the spines of the books you passed by gently. Before today, you didn't even know that the section of this building has its very own library—let alone one with such an impressive collection. When you were informed that one of your sessions will be held here, you were expecting a haphazardly put together room with run-of-the-mill titles thrown together. The place you are in now, however, is no average study just from a glance of its books alone. Similar to Jisung's greenhouse, the space felt like there was some effort put into it, like a beloved, personal space of someone who poured all his interest in building it. 

"I got this room as a sort of gift."

You stopped in the middle of reading the titles at the classics section and turned to look at the boy leaning against the bookcase a little ways from you. Blinking, you briefly wondered if you were so focused that you entirely missed him standing there, but then he smiled and you completely forgot your train of thought. You turned to him fully now but remained on your spot just in case he wanted to keep his distance. Mark noticed, his eyes following the smallest of your movements as if he was trying to read you.

"What do you mean you got it as a gift?"

He pushed himself off the bookcase he was leaning on and actually tried to approach you. Compared to the first time you met him, there was something about the way he carries himself now that seems more at ease than his usual nature. It's as if some of his walls are actually down today, judging from how he stopped directly beside you. He reached to pull a book across from where you were standing then and flipped it open to its first page.

"When I first came here, I wasn't really the most cooperative of the bunch. The coats were following a different tactic then—bribe us with whatever it is we want so that we could cooperate better. They gave me this library. They even promised me that there will be zero cameras here."

You slowly took that in as you watched him flip over the pages of the hardbound in his hands. He seemed softer than usual today, his usual silent edge gone. You can't help but wonder if this is the real him beneath the front you usually see him wear as a shield.

"That's a little surprising."

He glanced up at you briefly.

"Me being uncooperative?"

"No. You loving books."

For a quick moment, Mark looked genuinely taken aback. He stared at you before a breathy laughter finally escaped him. Your own lips twitched into a small smile as you silently noted how genuine it sounded. You realized that ever since you met him, this is actually the first time you heard him laugh.

"I’ve always wanted to become a novelist,” he explained. “Also, I feel like you have a very distinct impression of me.”

You simply shrugged.

"You're nice, but you're not exactly a ray of sunshine either."

That made him stop and peer at you quietly from under his long lashes. He finally looked away and scratched the back of his neck a little guiltily.

"I guess I wasn't. Sorry if I seemed a little aloof. It's just that…"

He trailed off as he tried to look for the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. You decided to fill it in for him.

"You feel like you have to. For them, don't you?"

The look Mark gave you was a combination of emotions you easily picked apart. There was mild surprise about you hitting it on the head, slight guilt, and—if you read him correctly—even a hint of relief.

“Is that why you came here today? To do some psychoanalysis on me?” 

“Yes and no. I genuinely wanted to check on you after what happened at the arena a couple of weeks ago. But if that’s what you want to tell yourself so you could avoid my question, sure. You can believe that,” you said before you turned and settled on the carpeted floor. You looked up at him and shot him a silent smile of invite. Mark looked hesitant at first but sat next to you after a bit, close enough that your elbows were almost brushing together.

“How have you been?” you asked him again once he seemed to have settled down.

“Are you asking that as my doctor?”

“You said there are no cameras here?”

“Yup.”

“Then I’m asking it as a friend.”

You noticed the way he stilled briefly in your peripheral vision. Finally, he sighed and leaned his head back against the row of books supporting your backs.

“I’m tired.”

“Mm… feeling like you need to carry everyone else on your back can get pretty tiring, I agree. Unless I’m reading you wrong?”

This time, he actually shot you a look. You retuned it with a knowing smile. You may not have had a lot of one-on-one time spent with Mark, but if you would rank your affinity towards the boys, you would say he is pretty close to Renjun when it comes to making you feel at ease for some reason. If you look beyond this usual wall he usually puts up, you feel like you could see a lot of yourself in him.

“I don’t really have a choice,” he finally said after a beat of silence. “A lot of people are counting on me.”

“Did they tell you that?”

His lips pursed and his eyes settled on nothing in particular in front of him. When you decided that you wanted to help them, you knew that a part of what you needed to do is to break through the shells of these boys to get to the answers that you need. Mark plays a big role in that, being the glue that seems to hold the group together. He may not always stand out in the pack, but you’ve noticed the way he silently carries the foundation of this small, tight knit brotherhood they have going on. That, from your own experience, can be a huge responsibility to carry alone.

“I was always told that I have to do it.”

“By who?”

“By everyone,” he said simply. “It’s expected of me.”

“Also, because I promised... Someone.”

That last bit made you stop, your brows coming together in a frown. That was the least you were expecting to hear from him, and it doesn’t help that there was a look in his face that you couldn’t quite figure out now—a combination of deep-seated loyalty and longing that could only mean one thing. At that moment, something in your head clicked and your lips parted in surprise. It couldn’t be what you were thinking...

“Is this the someone who is keeping you and the others from leaving this place?”

Your question made his eyes slightly widen. He slowly turned to train his gaze on you but didn’t say anything else. You, on the other hand, pursed your lips in determination.

“I saw what all of you could do in that arena,” you continued, your voice low. “I’m sure that’s not even half of what you’re capable of. If you wanted to, you could leave this place anytime. There’s something else making you stay here.”

Mark remained so still as you said that, which, for you only confirmed what you just said. He looked torn, as if he was on the verge of saying something. Hesitantly, you reached out to hold his hand.

“Renjun. He decided to trust me. I want to know if you’re the same.”

Something flickered in his eyes when you touched him though he didn’t move to pull away.

“I do. I trust you.”

Your chest lightened up a little at what he said. “Then you have to help me so I can help you. Help me understand. Why are you staying here? Why is Cypher keeping you here?”

If Mark looked torn before, he almost seemed in pain now as he tried to weigh his words. Slowly, he pulled away from you, an action that almost made you think you’ve lost your window to get your answers. He looked away, and you barely stopped yourself from reaching out to him again.

“I don’t know what Cypher wants. Believe me when I say that. We’re here because that’s exactly what we want to know. Why these people are after Arcana holders like us. We can’t leave yet. Not until we get the answer to that.”

You were completely at a loss as you let that sink in. What he said made zero sense at first, but then a light bulb went off in your head and you felt your heart stop in your chest in realization. They’re here because of someone else… Like a Trojan horse sent to the enemy’s borders to infiltrate them. 

They’re not prisoners. They’re sacrifices. 

“That person… sent you here,” you said softly and you saw Mark’s jaw lock. “You’re doing this for them.”

His hands balled into knuckles on top of his bent knees. “We needed to do something. Or else, people like us will never live in peace.”

“But being here might hurt all of you sooner or later. This person you’re talking about, where are they? Do you even know what their plan is? Are they helping you out?” The rest of your questions got stuck in your throat as you felt his hand wrap around yours all of a sudden. It was different from the way Renjun held you back when he was the one giving you hints. Unlike the other boy’s gentle touches, Mark’s was firm and with command, as if he was silently asking you to really listen. It was the way he looked at you, however, that really made you stop.

“That’s why you’re here. You have to help all of us. We can only do so much being locked up here.”

For a moment, you didn’t really know what to do. Everything was overlapping in your head and you can’t help the rising feelings at the back of your mind towards this stranger Mark is blindly trying to follow. Who are they exactly? Do they really care for these boys?

“You’re doing this… all of you, just because one person told you to?”

Mark’s face softened at your words. He looked down, right at your interlinked hands with an expression you couldn’t quite read. His next words, unfortunately, left you more confused than ever.

“Yes. I trust her. You won’t get it... but I’ll do anything for her. ”

******* “Are you okay?”

You blinked awkwardly as Winwin’s voice broke through your thoughts. You didn’t know how long you have been spacing out, but you couldn’t help the guilt that overtook you now as you saw him looking at you with a slightly concerned expression from across the kitchen island you two were currently camped on. You were at his apartment, in the middle of trying to cook dinner with him, after a rather impromptu invite he sent your way after work. You looked down at the bowl in front of you now and cleared your throat shyly as you resumed mixing the marinara sauce you’ve been trying to finish for the past fifteen minutes already.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to space out,” you mumbled apologetically as you tried to avoid his gaze. You hated how you’re acting right now, because the last thing you wanted is to make him feel as if you’re not enjoying his company at all. It’s just that, after the talk with Mark earlier, you haven’t been able to keep your focus on one thing without going on an overthinking spree. Maybe you should have just stayed home instead of saying yes tonight. Locked yourself up in your room instead of being a shitty date.

At the very least, Winwin seems to be very understanding of it all, as he waved your apology with a smile. The light of the laptop he had opened in front of him almost gave him an angelic glow as he leaned his head against his hand while he looked at you. 

“That’s fine. Tough day at work?”

You shot him a small smile as you moved over to cutting some of the vegetables you’ve entirely forgotten about from earlier. “What can you say? We do work for the same company,” you replied vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t press for more information.

That made him laugh. “I can’t say I don’t understand. Not with me still trying to work when I also should be paying attention to you. Are you sure you don’t need help with that?”

Now that made you genuinely smile. You shot him a glance as you worked through the rest of what you were doing. “I’m no chef, but I can sure make a salad on my own. What are you trying to finish anyway?”

“Ah… you know, just some routine checks on the systems. I’m just scanning the database framework of the office right now. Making sure there are no bugs.”

“I didn’t understand any of that, but those were some sexy talk coming from you, mister,” you teased as you finally finished what you were doing and wiped your hands with the kitchen towel after. Sicheng threw you a playful look, his eyes dancing behind his glasses.

“You find that sexy? You better come here then, take a look and maybe you’ll fall in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes at his words jokingly to cover the way your stomach did a somersault at what he just said. That’s the thing about Winwin—he does have this thing about him that can easily distract you from everything else, regardless of how bothered you are. Coming over to his side, you easily fit into the space he made for you so you could stand beside him. He was sitting on a bar stool just big enough to accommodate him, but that didn’t stop the two of you from getting close to each other as he threw a hand over you, his fingers coming around your hip. You, on the other hand, pressed himself closer to him, your eyes set on his laptop screen. There were lines of codes running on a small screen that he had opened, while half a window showed what looked like a complex framework of folders moving upwards slowly.

To be honest, none of that actually left much of an impression on you, not when you could feel his body heat warming up your side now. You could smell his shampoo from how close you are, that and a hint of mint as he moved his face closer to yours when he ducked to point at something on his screen.

“You see that? Those are all the folders that hold all the files Cypher keeps in its database. My team used to say we can run a full rebellion against the corporation if we want to by opening just a few of those. Dig through all their dirty secrets.”

You didn’t have any idea if he was as distracted as you with how close you are to each other now, but you thought his voice sounded lower against the shell of your ear when he said that. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself though, and so you forced yourself to focus on the screen to keep your thoughts from flying off somewhere else. Your gaze landed on the numbers and codes there, some of them blinking green.

“So you have access to everything? Even the restricted projects?”

“Mm… Yes and no. Technically we do, but the highly confidential files are hidden away from us. We can break them since we are the ones who create their ‘containers,’ but that would be considered hacking already since that’s not part of our job.”

You were about to give him a teasing remark about that when an idea suddenly made you stop. You froze. 

He has access to everything…

Even information you and Kun cannot exactly unlock.

“You said you work for Project Dream, right?”

His question made your eyes snap at him. Your heart was pounding hard in your chest for an entirely different reason now, and you had to use every bit of your concentration to keep him from noticing. Slowly, you nodded.

“Yes. I do,” you said in the steadiest voice you could muster. Winwin keyed in a few commands on his keyboard and pulled up a new window that showed a smaller number of folders inside.

“There you are. All of your files are there. Pretty cool, huh?”

The pounding of blood against your ears almost drowned out the sound of his voice. You wanted to bombard him with questions, but something in the new window he opened caught your attention. You stilled, your eyes set on one particular spot on the screen.

“What’s that folder beside ours?”

Winwin followed your line of sight and quickly read the file name underneath the drive, a set of what looked like jumbled letters and numbers. His face cleared up not soon after.

“Oh, that? Usually, that’s a database for a sister project that’s being done under the same sequence. I think that one’s the first phase of what you’re working on right now. It seemed to have started six months earlier than Project Dream,” he answered as he pointed towards the sequence of tagged numbers on top of the folder. “You see that? That’s the code for its start date.”

Your palms went cold after that. You didn’t know that what you’re working on right now is connected to anything else, and you doubt Kun had an idea about it either. You were still staring at the screen when a loud beeping sound suddenly filled the room. You barely registered Winwin’s hold on your hip loosening as he stood up from his seat.

“I think the chicken’s done. I’ll get it.”

You barely registered him leaving your side with your attention still hyper focused on what was in front of you. You felt like you were at a crossroads, the possibility of unlocking something new making you almost dizzy. The next thing you know, your eyes were lifting to check on the boy in front of you as your hand moved over to the mouse control on the table. Winwin was currently bent over the oven, his body hidden behind the counter to take care of the food.

You hovered the cursor over the folder next to the database node of Project Dream and double-clicked it. 

A mini homepage popped on the screen at your command. Your eyes made a beeline on the short codes written on it. 

Project Date Start: 11-05-21 Phase Tag: Stage 1 Sequence: First Phase Category: Restricted Participants: Arcana users - FIRST BATCH.

Operation Name: 

Project Irregular.

*******

“You told her?”

Mark didn’t have to turn around to know the owner of the voice. The once calm air in the library sizzled with an unexplainable force, similar to the way two opposing forces would push and pull against each other. He ignored it right now, his eyes set on nothing in particular in front of him. 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s about time we do,” his voice was still calm when he said that, though he knew the other boy could notice the slight edge tingeing his tone. “We’re running out of time. She needed to know so she could help us.” 

Silence briefly hung in the air after that. Mark knew the words coming after, but it still didn’t stop the painful flinching in his chest when he finally heard it from him. 

“You’re only going to hurt her.” 

For the first time since the other joined him, he finally turned to face his visitor. He was standing on the same spot Mark sat on earlier with her, still as death.  

“Why are you so against trusting her, Jeno?” 

“Because she shouldn’t be involved with us anyway.” 

“She’s the only one who can help us,” he said with a frown. For a brief moment, Jeno’s unreadable mask actually gave way, his jaw tightening as he heard those words. Mark watched him carefully, wondering if he would snap, but the look of chaos was soon gone from the other’s eyes as swiftly as it came. His voice, however, kept the same troubled current when he spoke again. 

“Just because she can, doesn’t mean she should. I know you’re doing this for the stupid promise you made to your fiancee, but that doesn’t mean you should be messing up other people’s lives for her sake alone.” 

His words were like a direct stab to his heart. For a moment there, Mark thought he was the one who would actually lose control, but then Jeno turned around and started making his way out the door. He called out to him—a stupid move— because he knew nothing will go through the other regardless of what he’s going to say. 

Still he did it. He needed to say it. 

“You don’t understand. I can’t betray her.” 

Jeno stopped just as he was about to turn around the corner. He didn’t say anything, the heavy silence in the air on the verge of collapsing from tension again. Finally, he looked at Mark, his eyes piercing when he said the words he knew his brother and friend already knew. 

“I understand you more than anyone else, hyung. Because I love her too.”

CHAPTER 8

----

A/N: I feel like this chapter is too vague and messy but please bear with me. Even my head is hurting from the plot I made, juseyo. :’)

Taglist [OPEN]:  @negincho, @jhornytrash, @aaasteroidsky, @huangberryyy, @marijmin, @ashkuuuu, @reluctantserpent-101, @huskyhunny, @domojoo, @anaveragefangirl, @lostlovesoul11, @dreamisfelix, @lomlwoo, @coconuttiez8d, @jaehyunenthusiastsworld, @shininginthemoonlight, @bettyschwallocksyee, @w3bqrl, @smolpeyy, @chenlejjang, @kunssouschef​, @thesunsfullmoon, @kpopstanforlifeuwu, @chokopocky​

#mark nct x reader #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream yandere au #nct dream imagines #nct dream superhuman au #nct imagines #nct mark fic #nct renjun fic #nct haechan fic #nct jeno fic #nct jaemin fic #nct jisung fic #nct chenle fic #kun wayv fic #winwin fic #nct dream yandere fic

[tritagonist-in-motion]

It starts with a dream, so vivid that I almost believe it to be reality, and my tiny room to be illusion. Like the philosopher -I can’t remember who, but one of the early Taoists- who could not say whether he was a man who dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that it was a man. I don’t usually learn about that navel-gazing sort of thought, but for once, something from a solipsistic tradition is kind of relevant to me. 

With that said, well, I’m definitely going to keep acting as if the boring part of my conscious experience is the real one, and the more exciting one is the false one. It’s much longer, for one, and I’m too cynical to trust an exciting life. Okay, I’m getting sidetracked. Where was I? 

Right, the dream. It was a beautiful scene, and unlike most dreams I have, the details were easily remembered for days afterwards. I assume my subconscious took inspiration from my favorite environments; it was a whirlwind mix of nature, in all its variety and beauty. All, that is, except other animals. The birds and mammals and insects, where were they? Nothing moved except me. 

I remember running through dense forest, moving over soft, light green moss, the majority of the sun captured and scattered by foliage. What remained dappled on the ground, providing variety in the lighting. The leaves were plump, growing strong and so abundant that they brushed against me as I ran, the sensation refreshingly grounding. 

I remember a shift in the forest, as I traveled along my chaotic path. Like the spectrum redshifting as one’s velocity climbs, the forest slowly transitioned into one dominated with red, the leaves now colorful, as they would be in fall. The rest of the place followed suit, no less beautiful for its imminent death- or at least, that’s what all this would normally signify. It remained unmoving.

While still lovely, it felt like things were not right. A feeling in my gut that things were not yet in their final place. As I moved on, this was proven right. There was another shift in the forest, beginning with the ground this time. It changed in texture, in material, no longer a light fluff. I instead stood on an expanse of raw flesh, undulating like it was living, but not enough to unbalance me. To the contrary, it helped me stay upright, almost cradling me with what little it could move. 

The trees were not plants anymore. They were limbs, an overwhelming variety of extremities everywhere I could see. Arms and legs and wings of all kinds, skin and fur and feather covered, all held each other together as they rose up, opened out to hands, paws, claws, standing in for leaves. Eyes beheld me as I observed them, placed in whatever crevices allowed them to observe as much around as possible. I knew now, why the forest had no animal life; it was one animal, one being composed of dizzying variety. 

It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Everything fit together right, even if it was from a thousand different species and a hundred anatomical pieces. It didn’t matter where it all came from, the arrangement had a harmony and cohesive nature that made it so incredibly scenic. It felt right, to me, and that’s not just a result of the dreamy mind-state I had then; When I picture it, I still love what I saw then. Maybe I’m weird for that- okay, no, I’m definitely weird because of it. Doesn’t matter, I still find it compelling, something I want to experience again with all my heart. 

I want to be a part of it, I think. The flesh and the sense of belonging I felt, it was all wonderful. But no matter how close I got to it, to everything, there was always a disconnect: I was still myself, and still a distinct person. Consequently, I would always be another being, not one with it, nor could I ever be. 

As I was struggling with this, the dream ended. Abruptly, I was awake, and once more in my terribly mundane, unfortunately quiet, bedroom. My alarm beeped at me insistently, and my day pressed upon me, all the things I had to do cropping up in the back of my mind. 

I pushed it all away, focusing on my dream for a moment. It was completely unattainable, I knew, but I wanted to believe it for just a moment, to melt away into something so much more than myself. For a second, I felt something warm, pulsating on my hand, but it was gone in a flash. Just a tactile hallucination, I told myself. The result of still being half asleep, and coming off of a very immersive dream. 

But it felt real for a bit. It gave me hope, that I could feel it all again, and I could not, would not let go of that. 

#writing #writeblr #dreams #creative writing #tma inspired #meat :)

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Day 16: Bridge

Baz is still trapped by the numpties, and his tentative grip on sanity seems to be slipping.

Length: 239

Warnings: thoughts of death, Baz’s kidnapping.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Blue eyes,

Bronze curls,

The fact that Simon Snow is alive. I repeat this to myself like a mantra, my only tether to sanity, but I fear even that is failing me now.

Last night I dreamt Simon Snow loved me. I felt real arms around me. Simon was right there, holding me, whispering comforts I couldn’t quite hear over the rhythm of his beating heart. My head was resting on his warm chest; I traced patterns on his freckled belly, and he laughed lightly at the sensation. I smiled, as if the sound of his simple joy was familiar to me, as if I had been the cause of it before. Simon ran his fingers through my hair and my whole body was a quiet buzz of warmth. I told him I was glad he was here, with me. He smiled so wide. And he didn’t say it, but I knew he loved me. I could feel it so deeply, as if nothing else had ever been as true. He loved me.

I woke up cold.

Alone.

Still trapped.

It was just a false alarm.

How long before the last one? I can’t keep living in these conditions. The numpties don’t seem to want me dead, but I’m getting weaker every day. If I die here, I hope I die during one of these fantasies. I hope I die thinking Simon loves me, even if it’s a dream.

#loosely inspired by the smith's song last night I dreamt somebody loved me #angst #carry on fanfic #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #mention of death #but he doesn't die don't worry #carry on countdown #coc 2022 #carry on countdown 2022 #corascrap

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Dreamt that I was with my family at the zoo, which we'd been driving by for awhile and hadn't been to for a while. We went there for a picnic to celebrate my cousin's 16th birthday -- the "picnic" was his idea and I agreed to go along with it. The zoo was crowded, and the animals kept on escaping, so we had to keep doing things like "go around again and make sure we're far enough back from a polar bear to not get run over by its legs"

But then when we were finishing our picnic, my cousin had an idea. He had heard about this sort of thing called fandom, and knew that people would talk about us going to the zoo over the next few years. So he decided he wanted to be the first to go, to make sure the zoo was still worth seeing. So the next time my family went to the zoo, he wanted me to wait, and then go and join the line in front of the polar bear cages and say "oh hey, this is for real, guys! I think it's back!"

I obeyed this order, but then something went wrong and the bear escaped. A bunch of visitors started to shout "you missed your chance! come back later!", and I replied "uh, I was told that this was the zoo." I left the zoo and went home. But when we had gotten home, my grandfather came up with the idea that we would go back to the zoo for a second picnic after everyone else had seen it (though the zoo had closed by that point).

The next day, my cousin went to the zoo, and, at the end of our picnic, he said to my father, "did I miss the zoo, or was this just a false alarm?"

My cousin wasn't a bad person -- this was just an elaborate way to make a joke out of being "the first to see the zoo in the future," which he enjoyed. But when I told him this in the morning, he explained that he'd had a dream that he'd been the first to see the zoo -- he'd already seen all the animals and, as a result, knew what to expect from the zoo, so that was why my father and I had gone to the zoo.

My father explained this to my mother, but she insisted that it must have been real, because it was all just coincidences. I tried to explain what I thought -- that some of the things that had happened at the zoo were also random coincidences, like my cousin saying the zoo was a "faker" for putting a polar bear cage behind the polar bear cage, and then later my mother forgetting we had seen the polar bear cage. The logic didn't make much sense to my family at all, so we stopped going to the zoo to celebrate birthdays after that.

This dream was weird and sort of terrifying -- the fact that other people could make my own family forget what was important in its presence -- but it was also oddly reassuring, like the feeling you get when there are things around that are not like other things, like the ocean you can see from the edge of your bed, even though it may not be the same ocean every day.

#dreams

[tuiyla]

so i actually didn’t watch shooting star until like 2 years ago or something like that? but my high school had two different shooting scares before that; one of those we were in hard lock down, the other we were in a shelter in place and police escorted kids to their parents to bring them home. only one of them had an actual gun involved, the other was a false alarm. nobody died in either event. i don’t think this is an uncommon experience for kids that live in the us.

shooting star fell into some of the same pitfalls as ikag to me? in that it was written without any critical understanding of an issue by writers trying to preach about something they have no business talking about in the first place (active shooter drills were required in my state starting in 2005. matthew hodgson was 22 by this time. he simply hasn’t experienced the modern culture of fear that’s been in schools for almost 20 years). i found it upsetting, and frankly it was written in exceptionally poor taste.

that all being said, i do kind of like to give people the benefit of the doubt. sure, i’ll give them that they were trying to do a good thing. he probably wanted this episode to be a message, like, “hey, look, this is a real problem, we should do something about this.” I respect trying to handle a difficult issue, and i understand that mishandling some things will come with the territory. it’s just the way that it was almost written off as quickly as it had happened (yes, it’s mentioned at the beginning of the next episode, but when things like this happen, even when there isn’t an actual risk, there are long lasting effects that you can’t shake). but like, after our first scare, i never felt safe in my school again. i had a hundred contingencies, an escape route, a hiding place, and a list of improvised weapons for every class. this, again, was not uncommon for anyone at my school and i don’t think it’s uncommon for other schools either. not that i think that should’ve been the direction they went either.

i mainly just feel like the point could have been made with lower stakes. if you wanna talk about the effects of school shootings on high school kids, have them do an active shooter drill. discuss what’s so frightening, maybe have a character mention that they’re frightened by the idea of an active shooter situation. have schue discuss how when he started teaching, he had no idea the risks he would be taking. have emma talk to them about support, lead them toward real world resources that people can use in this situation. i don’t know, i just don’t understand why this was the direction they chose to take this episode. sorry this got long, don’t feel like you have to post this or anything, but these are some thoughts!

Thank you for the input! I'm genuinely really sorry to hear that was your school experience; you and all American kids deserve better.

Honestly yeah comparing it to IKAG feels apt in a way because both show a misunderstanding of the subject matter and come across as disrespectful. Geez if only someone could have known after he wrote IKAG that Flopson was a Bad Writer.

A drill sounds like a good idea if they had to touch the topic. I think the way they went about it instead was purely for shock value. You don't know if it's real, you don't know if they're gonna make it. Part of what makes it so much in poor taste. The first time I watched this episode, I knew a shooting episode was coming but a) didn't realize it was this one and b) holy shit the whiplash of the shots going off and the episode changing tones real fast. I kept muttering "what the fuck" as it played out. Like I say, shock value. And they literally valued that more than the issue they were trying to discuss, because Glee just had to touch on every goddamm issue. Except for abortion, I guess. Literally the only issue teens can and do face that Glee never dared touch on, never even said the word. Anyway, convo for another day.

I'd like to give the benefit of the doubt too, but you know, Glee... And also my mortal enemy, Flopson. They should have just Not.

#do not ever worry about sending long things to me haha #i'm long thoughts central #thank you anon appreciate it #anon #glee asks #shooting star #tw gun violence #tw school shooting

[after-witch]

Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Escape isn’t easy. Nor is it very long-lasting. When Overhaul’s men drag you back into captivity, you brace yourself and wait for what your captor will do with you. 

Word Count: 7,592

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, humiliation, degradation, mentions of eating disorder behavior, improper use of household cleaning products, Overhaul is a mean man 90% of this fic is just Overhaul being an asshole to you

There are going to be bruises on your shoulders. Fingerprint shaped bruises from the men holding you steady, afraid that you'll try to sprint off--maybe afraid that you'll try to spring at their boss, disobedient, unruly possession that you are.

You know that Overhaul won't like it when he eventually sees those black-and-blue fingerprints marring your skin--he might kill them for it, or worse. They're digging in too hard, but you don't warn them to ease up lest they find themselves on the wrong end of Overhaul's hands; they brought you back to this place, after all, and they deserve nothing but your hot, raw contempt.

You could run. You could slip out of their grip, if you put your mind to it. Your clothes are wet and the medical table that you're sitting on is slippery from the rainwater that's dripped out from your soaked clothes. But Chisaki Kai--no, Overhaul, you remind yourself, for the energy he’s exuding now is very much that of a foreboding boss--is standing in front of you, and you'd never make it to the doorway.

"Leave us," Overhaul says, not bothering to move as the men gripping your shoulders release their painful hold and swiftly leave the room. He tears off a sanitizing wipe from the ever-present canister on his desk and wipes down the doorknobs that they touched, before locking the door. An unnecessary precaution, given your nerves, given your state, given your realization that your escape attempt was a massive fluke that would never be allowed to happen again.

You numbly watch as he gathers up supplies from around the makeshift clinic he'd created in the small suite of rooms he allowed you to exist in. The canister of disinfectant. Medical-grade soaps. Sponges. A bucket. Needles, needles, needles... you remember the feel of the syringe you'd stolen in your hand and distract yourself from the fear of what he's going to do to you by retracing the steps of the past day.

**

You got farther than you thought you would--really, you did. At every stage of your plan, you expected Chisaki to suddenly reveal that he knew every step you'd taken so far. That he'd catalogued every act of false obedience to lure him into relaxing the rules, that he saw you swipe the syringe of tranquilizer from the clinic when he'd left for a moment to grab a fresh pair of clothes for you, that he knew you asked to sit with him at his desk only to sneak a glance at his calendar, so you could sweetly plead for an afternoon in the garden when he would be busy, when he would surely ask a highly trusted subordinate to watch over you.

A highly trusted subordinate who knew all about your weeks of good, sweet behavior and who was none the wiser when you'd jabbed him with the syringe, plunging the medicine, the same kind your captor once used to 'calm you down' when you were having fits, right into the man’s thigh. 

You didn't hesitate: you'd dipped your hands into the man's pockets, pulled out his wallet and ran. You barely remember anything until you were in the forest--you vaguely remember using the key card to open the gates surrounding the base, you remember the fear that at any moment you would hear an alarm sound; but from there, everything was a blur as you sped into the forest wearing only the soft day shoes you'd been given to go outside.

You made it through the forest, though not without bumps and cuts and sore feet and a dimly throbbing ankle that was thankfully only turned. You ran until you reached a small town, one you'd never been in before. You buried your first instinct deep, deep, deep: do not contact the authorities. Who knows what connections Overhaul had, especially in a town so close to where he operated? So instead you waltzed into a little corner shop and made a beeline for the bathroom--where you promptly vomited out your breakfast as all of the anxiety and fear and adrenaline caught up with you in an instant.

You remember staring into the bathroom mirror afterwards, your face cold with splashed water. It was then, staring into your pale and anxious face, a face you hadn’t been allowed to see in a mirror for ages, that you felt freedom slamming back into you. You could do what you wanted, now. You were going to get your life back. You could make your own schedule and have your own hobbies back and eat what you wanted and--your stomach had gurgled, as if on cue. You had to get something to eat. But how would you pay?

The wallet you'd pilfered felt heavy in your pocket, and you opened it without a second thought. No cash. But a credit card. It would do, until you were able to get some cash of your own. You wandered back into the shop and even now, you can still feel how struck you were by how cozy, how nice, how different it felt. Just a small general store with big open windows and soft music in the background, and an old woman behind the register who immediately asked you if you needed any help finding this or that.

You smiled--a real smile, how nice that felt--and shook your head and loaded up a basket. A first-aid kit, a large water bottle, a toothbrush and toothpaste... then came the snacks. Candy. Chips. Soda. Things you hadn't tasted in so long. You even grabbed a pointless fashion magazine. The old woman had glanced at the name on the card and you offered a sheepish smile, a fake one that made you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her: "My boyfriend sent me to do the shopping. He's no good at this stuff." She'd smiled and nodded, oh I understand dear, before packing up your order.

You stepped out into the sunshine--you can't pretend like you remember how it feels, right now, shivering from the damp rain on this table--and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled crisp and sweet and clean. Not the sterile cleanliness of your captor's clinic, but truly pure--real. There was a slight tinge to the air, and you spotted grey clouds on the horizon. Not an omen, no: just another sign that you were outside, you were in nature, you were free. The smell was the promise of thunder, of electricity, of cool rain.

It also smelled like... well, lunch. Or more precisely, you smelled the vague scents of the little pizza shop a few shops down.

And here is where you made, looking back, your biggest mistake. You should have headed to a bus station. Or called for a taxi. You should have gotten the hell out of there right that second. But your mind flashed back to Overhaul's little calendar, the words printed neatly in the little square for today: he would be away until the evening, which meant you (surely, surely) had a few more hours before he came back and discovered your escape.

He’d ordered no one to bother you and your now-unconscious guard in the garden, so if no one saw you run out, then an alarm certainly wouldn’t raised for a while. You had time, didn't you? Time to grab a meal? You could always get it to go, and you could even ask an employee inside about buses or taxes. Yes, it was fine--you would get a few slices to go and hop on a bus and leave forever. More than that, it was practical. You needed energy, and the junk in your bag--while undoubtedly delicious--wasn't going to be enough to sustain you for long.

The door to the pizza place dinged when you entered, and you almost teared up at the normality of it. It was a buffet style place, with rows of pizzas under yellow-cast lights and rows of red booths and people lifting slices onto their plates with shared tongs. Unusual for a small town, but maybe it was a remnant from a more bustling time, when American-style pizza places were all the rage. For a moment, your thoughts had turned back to your captivity: Overhaul would have never set foot into a place like this--nor would he have let you. Germs, germs, everywhere. And you loved it.

You paid with the card, but there was no need for excuses this time--the young man behind the register didn't even check for a name or signature, much less ask for identification. You asked about a to-go box and he'd shrugged, mumbled out an apology--they didn't do that here. You have to eat inside.

For a moment, the rational part of your mind screamed: get the hell out of here, then! But your stomach growled, and hunger beckoned, and damn if that row of glistening pizza slices didn't make you want to eat. And eat.  And… eat. You shoved repressed thoughts deep down, your heart hammering all the while, and took a tentative step towards the buffet. Thunder rumbled as you debated. You could be out of here in... 30 minutes? Enough time to eat--to binge, your mind whispered, you can now--and maybe get it out after? Yes, it would be fine. (It would not. Future you, the one sitting on the table and watching in increasing anxiety as Overhaul finishes up his tasks, wishes she could tell you.)

You should have seen the start of the rain, sudden and relentless, as a bad sign. Instead you ignored it and filled up a large cup with diet soda that spilled a little when you forgot to let go of the button. You ate without thinking, not even really enjoying the taste of the first greasy pizza slices you’d had in ages.

You were on your fifth slice when the restaurant doors dinged, but the sense of small town charm was overrun by the immediate realization that you were caught. You were fucked. The air thickened--were you the only one to notice?--as two men in slim suits entered the restaurant with an air of immediacy. You were spotted in a second, if that. You thought about running.

But then you thought about the bored teenager behind the register and the old man cutting up his wife's pizza slices because she had trouble chewing and the little girl stacking up pepperonis while her mom chatted on the phone and you resigned yourself. You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt…even if it meant giving in. You didn't struggle, couldn't struggle, and let them lead you swiftly outside where the torrent of rain soaked you immediately  as they pushed you down the block, where an unmarked car waited. You glanced up helplessly as the cloudy sky and rain streamed down your face before you were unceremoniously pushed into the backseat.

Overhaul was sitting inside, staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

**

Your backpack drops with a thump next to you and you flinch out of your memories.

"Let's see what you bought with that stolen card during your little adventure."  His voice is deceptively calm. He must be furious with you, you think. And you can't believe you didn't think about credit fraud alerts before you used the damn card.

The noise of the zipper is thunderous and you scoot yourself back on the exam table, pressing against the wall to put a little more room--even if it's only inches--between you and your captor. He begins to pull everything out of the bag, one by one, and seeing it all lined up makes it clear what type of lecture is coming.

A few bags of chips, a bottle of soda, bars of chocolate, all junk, junk, junk. All food he would never permit you to eat, and certainly not in such quantities.

"Disgusting," he murmurs, before tossing each item into a trash bin kept against the wall, one by one. You cringe at the sound of each bag, each bottle, hitting the bottom of the trash. You didn't even get to taste them. He stares at the trash, eyes narrowed, as if the food itself was worthy of his venom. "Full of unnecessary sugars and fats and oils. Eating so much of this will make you sick. We've talked about this."

You say nothing. You press your lips together. You won't give him the satisfaction of argument. You won't let him pretend like he has any right to lecture you on what you eat, and certainly not what you eat after you've escaped (however briefly) from his clutches.

"At least you didn't have time to ingest them during your ill-planned escape, hm?" He replaces his previous gloves--tainted with the thought of germs on the junk food bags, no doubt--and your stomach flips at the sound of the medical gloves he's snapped on in their place. "Which is more than I can say for the pizza." You never knew someone could say pizza with such a ridiculously nasty tone, but you've learned a lot of things during your captivity.

"You weren't content with this junk hoard," he says, gesturing towards the trash while keeping his eyes firmly on you. "You had to gorge yourself on greasy pizza from a dirty buffet, too? We are going to clean your mouth out, by the way.”

You hate the way he says gorge--you hate the way he says greasy--you hate the anxiety that comes with wondering what he’ll do to ‘clean’ your mouth. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. The hate makes you answer defensively, despite your earlier resolution to stay quiet. You can't help yourself, in a lot of ways.

"I was hungry," you say, still feeling defiant.

"No one working on their fifth slice of pizza is hungry," he answers, simply. You feel diminished, but not enough to shut you up.

"So? It's not your business what I eat anyway.” A familiar tightness is springing to your throat. You don't want to cry in front of him ever again, so you clip the words out, fighting to retain control.

He presses a fist to his forehead in a sudden, rather surprising show of frustration. "Not my business? Not my business? It's my business to take care of you. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?"

The fullness in your stomach, the cold rain soaking you, the remembrance of the wind and branches lashing at you as you ran hours before, all these freedoms have made you feel bold. Or maybe you're succumbing to the effects of an adrenaline crash and you just can't control your mouth.

"I could have been free. You can’t--you can't just keep me here. You can't just kidnap someone and decide you know what's best for them."

There's a long, steady pause as he stares at you. His expression--what you can see from his eyes--is blank, and you almost wonder if perhaps you've stumped him.

"I can," he says, lightly. Easily.

Fucker.

He sighs, and you get the distinct impression that you’re a nuisance, something to deal with, something he’s having to deal with instead of doing far more important things. "You’re showing a severe lack of appreciation for all the work I do to take care of you."

You don't know how to respond to that. "You kidnapped me.” It’s all you can think of--the bare truth.

He doesn't speak at first. Then he lifts something from the supply tray he's set up--a blue hospital gown, thin and short, and tosses it towards you. You catch it instinctively, feeling the thin, feather-light material in your fingers. He tosses a towel, next, and you hold it against your damp chest. He turns around.

"Change."

You don't want to. You don't want to. But you've never pressed your luck on what would happen if you refused to get dressed before, afraid that he might do it himself, and that fear overrides any thoughts of outright rebellion. For now. You slide off your wet clothes and push them towards the end of the table, then use the towel to dry off your skin. There are scratches and bruises, including a nasty looking one that's already turning green on your ankle. Your feet are swollen from running on the hard forest floor with your thin day shoes.

When you're finished, you clear your throat, and he turns back around. He tosses your wet clothes right into the trash--damn, you liked that shirt--and wipes off the table with a separate towel. You sit, legs dangling off the table, and wish he'd just get the punishment or examination or whatever it is he has planned over with. You can feel the coldness of the table through the medical gown, and its thinness makes you feel even more helpless. Weak. You want to retain that feeling of freedom that you had earlier in the day. Even choosing to return without a fight, choosing to avoid hurting the innocent people in that town, made you feel bold.

He stands in front of you until you force yourself to look up, to get it over with. He's swapped out his mask for a medical one.

"Have I ever hurt you?"

You hate this.

"No," you admit, voice tight. "Not physically," you add spitefully, because fuck him for trying to make himself sound like a decent person because he kidnapped you but didn't happen to hit you.

"Do I take care of you?" His tone is firm, commanding. It leaves no room for silences. Instead, it makes your stomach feel light, makes your heart feel like it wants to race.

"I can do that on my own," you counter.

"Can you?" He says, voice dripping in condescension.

"Yes," you spite, bile rising into your throat. "I can take care of myself."

He reaches back and grabs the little stool he keeps in this room, rolling it up to rest in front of the table and in front of you. He sits down and cups his hands together, resting them on his thigh. He leans forward. An easy gesture. Like he wants to have a conversation. But something about his movements sends out warning signals. Big, glaring, flashing warning lights that scream DANGER.

“You can take care of yourself.” It’s a statement, yet the way he says it is brutally mocking.

“I can,” you insist, your voice cracking just the slightest bit under his gaze.

"So, where would you live?" He watches you intently and it takes a moment for you to realize what he just asked you. He isn't offering you freedom, no. But maybe you can win an argument, just this once, and forcibly stop his delusions that he's "taking care of you."

"Anywhere," you say, but he looks unimpressed. "An apartment," you correct. "Like my old one. Doesn't have to be big." Your heart pangs with nostalgia for your old place, for your independence, for your life.

"Ah." Overhaul brings a gloved finger up to his chin and rests is there, nodding, as if he's seriously considering your words. "And how will you pay for rent at this apartment?"

You can't resist the snarky tone. "A job."

He rests both hands on his thighs. "Tell me, how much did you make at your last job, again? No--tell me, how long did you hold your last job?" You cross your arms defensively around your waist as he continues. "If I recall correctly, you were fired rather quickly from that one... and the one before."

You squeeze your waist, hoping for the tiniest bit of comfort from the gesture. "I... it wasn’t my fault.” You feel like you’re under a magnifying glass. “The first time. And the second, well, I was looking for something better, anyway."

He raises his eyebrows, curious. "Looking where? At the bottom of a bottle?"

Your entire body tenses.

"After all," he continues, voice almost taking on a syrupy sweet tone. "Your fridge was so well-stocked with them. Hmm. Do you think it's responsible to spend so much money on alcohol when you're behind on rent payments?"

"No," you say, voice tighter, "But--"

He doesn't give you a chance to finish. He stands, and you immediately squeeze your arms again. "And how much were you spending on other luxuries? Those clothes you kept carelessly shoved in your closet... they were a name brand, weren't they?"

Your throat is dry and your mouth is dry and you lick your lips. "There were sales," you insist.

"Ohh," he says, his voice lifting in mockery. "And I bet there were sales on the jewelry, the trinkets, the--" his eyes drift upwards, an implication of his disdain, "--figurines."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I'm allowed to buy things that I like."

He begins to pace. Not aimlessly, no, nothing with him is ever aimless. He paces until he stops in front of you, turning to face you for effect.

"What happens if you're late on three rent payments? Remind me of the policy that decrepit building you called an apartment complex had."

You squirm on the table. "I was only behind on two--"

"What happens?" His voice is firm. You can't avoid it.

There's a pause before you murmur, unwillingly. "You get evicted."

"So." He takes another step, and turns back towards you. "Do you think it's responsible to spend money you don't have on luxuries, when you're behind on rent?"

You want to run. Maybe you should have run at him earlier. Getting tossed into a solitary room after attacking him might be better than this interrogation.

"No," you admit. You swallow, dry and thick and a bit painful. "Okay. I'm not great with money. I bought things to make me happy because I was stressed out about---life. It's not that big a deal. I--I didn't get kicked out, anyway."

He sits again, but keeps himself upright, the air of faux casualness replaced with an air of command. "How did you catch up on your rent? Tell me."

You hate him. You stare at him, hoping he'll end this, but he simply stares at you until you blurt out the words. "You paid my landlord. Anonymously." You stare down at the floor, at the drops of water still there from earlier. "I didn't ask you to. I would have figured something out."

"I'm sure."

He stands, and you stare at the wall until you hear him roll the tray of supplies towards the table. Your body trembles of its own accord when he grabs your arm firmly and wraps a blood pressure cuff around the top. You sit in silence as the cuff gets tighter then mercifully deflates.

He tsks at the number, and jots it down on the pad resting on the table. For once, you're not tempted to peek.

"I need to take some blood," he says, and you stick out your arm in automatic, habitual compliance before your brain even realizes it. He grips your wrist firmly while he swipes your arm with an anti-bacterial agent.

"How much do you weigh?" He asks suddenly, voice nonchalant.

You stare at him, incredulous. He's never brought up weight before. He’s always been careful to avoid details about weight, nutrition--calories. The most he would do is point out that you need a well-rounded diet with the right vitamins and nutrients, and ignore your questions about sauces and cooking oils and grams, all attempts to find out something that could give you an ounce of control over what’s going into your body.

"I--I don't know.  You don't let me look at the scale when I step on it." He knows this. He knows that he's forbidden you from seeing the number, because he knows about your past, knows your tendency to get obsessive and strict and focus on food and weight and worth.

"Why don't I let you look at the scale?"

Your stomach feels like it's twisting.

"I don't know." The lie is bitter on your tongue.

The casual tone in his voice when he replies is far more biting than any cruel insult. "Yes, you do." 

His words are punctuated by the harsh medicinal smell of the next wipe. But you're in no mood to appreciate that he's still choosing to numb your skin despite your earlier transgressions.

The tears you felt building earlier begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to cry, you don't want to cry, you don't want to cry.

“Why don’t I let you look at the scale?” He repeats, firmer, more insisting. He winds a band around your arm and taps at your veins.

Your arm looks fatter, like this. You swear it does. You look away to avoid your arm and the needle and his gaze.

“Because, um, I sometimes have problems with food. Or weight. Or whatever.”

“You have an eating disorder,” he tells you, all business as he plunges the needle into your skin; there’s only the ghost of a sting as he begins to slowly draw your blood. But you barely feel it, you can only feel the impact of his words, blunt and hateful.

"You were going to throw up in that germ-infested hovel. Eat until your stomach was distended, then head into a bathroom--which I'm sure the staff hadn't cleaned in ages--and stick your unwashed, greasy fingers down your throat until it all came back up. Am I correct?"

You can't tell if you feel woozy because of the needle or the way that your heart is racing at his words. Throw up. Greasy. Disgusting. You're disgusting.

"Stop it," you say, voice muddled with humiliation and anger.

He pulls the needle out, and quickly presses a bandage to your skin. He keeps a finger there, firm and pressing. He looks up at you, now, as he continues his onslaught.

"And then what? Let me make an educated guess. You were going to get on some filthy bus and open up all the junk you bought earlier? Perhaps," he muses, as he rips off a piece of tape to keep the gauze in place, "you could have asked the bus driver to stop at a public bathroom for a vomit break. And you'd probably make sure that whatever flea-ridden hotel you found along the way had a scale in the bathroom so you could keep track. And another one of your delightful," he practically spits the word out, "cycles would have started, hm?"

"Stop it," you repeat, voice breaking. "I wasn't--I wouldn't have--"

"You were going to," he says simply, interrupting. "Thankfully, we got there in time. Although I'm sure now you will endure a stomach ache after your reckless indulgence. A lesson, perhaps, though not the exact one I would inflict myself."

As if on cue, your stomach rolls and clenches. You’re keenly aware that you’re going to have digestive problems tonight, and the thought of being at his mercy while you’re dealing with them threatens to send you over the edge.  Could you get even more disgusting? The thought of how you look right now, stomach no doubt bulging, hair disheveled and damp, covered in ugly bruises and cuts--combined with the fear of spending the night on a toilet sends you over the edge.

You press your knuckles against your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut and try to force the sobs down. Your body begins to tremble, even more so as he lifts your leg. Without warning, he begins to unceremoniously scrub it down with a sponge dipped in disinfectant.

It stings and your eyes feel like they might pop at the sudden pain. You hiss at the feeling of the liquid on your cuts and try to pull away, to no avail. Your legs feel like jelly in his grip.

“That hurts,” you whine. 

“It can’t be helped,” he tells you, holding your leg firmly as he scrubs the sore bottom of your feet. Any sensitivity you had there is overruled by the soreness and pain from running, from the stinging aches that remain in your cuts. “I have to clean every cut or you may get an infection.”

He sets your leg down and lifts up the other, and you cringe before he even begins to move. You can’t help but whimper as he scrubs your leg, and the helpless stings of pain only increase when he moves on to your arms.

“Please,” you say, feeling low, nearly flattened. “I can’t… I can’t take this.”

He pauses, and the seemingly genuine concern in his eyes (it’s not, you remind yourself, it’s not--you think of the shop and the pizza place and the old man cutting his wife’s food, that was concern, that was care) has you feeling sorry for yourself.

“The stinging will go away in a few minutes. You chose to run away, you can certainly deal with this minor consequence.” He retains his grip on your upper arm and he swipes the sponge across your shoulders, briefly pushing the fabric aside as he does so. He pauses when he sees the blooming fingerprints on your shoulders, but says nothing.  You wonder if those men will survive the night.

There’s a a cut, thin and long, dragging from your collarbone down across your chest. He dips unceremoniously below the gown, touching you in a spot he normally avoids. The feeling of him so close, touching you--not quite on your chest, but close enough--only intensifies your humiliation. You whimper again and try to pull away, but his grip offers no room to move.

“I can’t--” You don’t finish. Your throat is so tight and you hate it, you hate that you can never talk about anything with him, never argue with him without clamming up with tears and a thick throat.

You bring your hands up to your hair, tugging on it until it prickles. Your breath starts to come in short bursts, your chest having as you pull on your hair and will yourself to be anywhere but here. For a flashing moment, you wish you’d never tried to escape. If you didn’t, you’d be getting ready for bed right now. Things would be--not okay. Never okay. But you wouldn’t be here, on this table, cold and stinging and in pain and utterly despondent from having your failures shoved in your face. But then you remember that if he’d never kidnapped you, you wouldn’t have had to try to escape in the first place, and the wish fades.

He remains silent, and instead simply keeps a steady, firm grip on your upper arm until your breath slows, until you can control yourself. Your skin feels at once numb and prickling in anxiety and adrenaline and emotions coursing through you.

Overhaul gives your arm a squeeze that is, perhaps, meant to be reassuring. “Are you suitably recovered?

You nod. Your stomach feels sour. You want to ask if you’re done, if you can just go sleep or get sent (you dread the idea) to solitary confinement or whatever it is he has planned in the wake of your escape. Anything would be better than this room and this soft, thin gown and his bright blue surgical gloves and your failure hanging in the air.

He extends his arm out and you pause for a moment before you grasp it, holding tight as you get off the table and stand on wobbly legs. You’re loathe to touch him, but you’re even more loathe to fall flat on your face on the hard floor.

He speaks before you get a chance to ask if you can change out of the medical gown.

“Now, we’ll go to the bathroom.”

Your knees suddenly feel like they might drop out from under you. “The bathroom?”

He nods, and pulls himself away from your weak grip as he begins walking towards the door. You follow without thinking, pausing when he stops to slide his medical gloves into the trash before slipping on another pair.

“We’re not finished here,” he tells you, and you swear his voice is almost giddy as he turns his head to meet your questioning face. “I told you earlier, we’re going to clean your mouth out.”

He can’t mean--

You take a step back, and your knee buckles. He’s quick--he catches you before you fall, but doesn’t let go. His pulls you upright and pulls you along. Your legs have no choice to walk--walk or be dragged--and you struggle for words as he leads you out of the clinic. Before you know it, you’re back in your room (familiar, warm, the same as it ways this morning) and led swiftly into the attached bathroom.

He pulls you in far enough that he’s able to shut the door behind him, trapping you inside. As if you wouldn’t be trapped by his mere presence. For a moment you wonder if he was bluffing, trying to scare you into submission, but by the time you take another breath he’s running the sink water and tearing into a new box of bar soap.

Your voice catches as you finally speak up. “You--you can’t be serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” He doesn’t even face you as he speaks. Instead, he turns on the tap and fills a paper cup with water before setting it on the sink’s edge. Next comes the bar of white soap, which grows slick underneath the water. He turns off the tap and lets the excess water drip off, before turning to you, soap bar in hand.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips press together automatically, and you shake your head. No, no, and no. This isn’t happening.

He sighs, and again the feeling that you’re annoying him creeps under your skin. Why does it bother you that you’re annoying him? It shouldn’t bother you at all, but somehow you feel a pang of regret at how much has changed in less than 24 hours. 

“If you don’t open your mouth willingly, I will open it for you.” He takes a step closer, but your legs feel heavy now, rooted to the spot. It isn’t like there’s anywhere you could run, anyway. “I don’t want to do that,” he continues, voice slightly softened. “Cooperate and open your mouth.”

What choice do you have? You could protest, you could argue, you could leap into the bathtub and make him fight for what he wants. You could keep your mouth shut tight and force him to find a solution. But he is stronger than you, in more ways than one, and he would get his way in the end.

So you make the only choice available to you. Your entire mouth shakes and seems to fight against you as you slowly open your lips in compliance. You feel stupid, standing here with your mouth hanging open.

You can’t reflect on the feeling for long, as he wastes no time in shoving the bar inside your open lips. You can’t help but whimper at the intrusion, but he doesn’t let up and begins methodically scrubbing at your tongue. At first, there’s no taste--then the built-up slick of clinical soap makes itself known, and you take advantage of the soap slipping out of your lips to press them together again, denying him entry.

“Open,” he orders, soft and firm.

And you do, heaving your shoulders in an unreleased whimper. What else can you do but listen? He continues to scrub, this time moving the bar into the side of your mouth to scrub at your teeth. The clammy, greasy feeling of soap coating your teeth makes you curl your wide open lips downward. You must look ridiculous, in all respects, lips gaping in an unpleasant frown as your captor mercilessly soaps the inside of your mouth.

“Do you not like the taste?” His eyes glance over at your frown, and the mockery in his tone is more than blatant. 

“Uhh-uhh,” you mumble, open-mouthed, shaking your head. The position you’re in--Overhaul scrubbing into your mouth, your shaking body, the dim feeling of your bruises and cuts from earlier--makes you feel so painfully exposed. So painfully helpless.

He hums and rests the soap against your tongue. Before you can attempt to move your tongue, lessen the feeling of the taste of the soap against it, he gives you a command.

“Bite down.”

Your teeth sink into the soft bar, keeping it in place, and your whimpers grow stronger at the humiliating order you’ve just obeyed. Could you sink any lower?

You watch him through tear-brimmed eyes as he moves to stand in front of you. You know what’s coming before he even speaks and when he does, it’s no surprise.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

Back to this, again.

You shake your head, mumble around the soap: “No.”

“Are you capable of being on your own?”

You hesitate, and he merely jumps to another question, one far more pointed.

“Have you held a single job for longer than a year?”

You want to protest, but any attempt at complicated speech is marred by the soap--the weight of it, the taste, and your need to keep it steady in your mouth.

“No,” you admit, hating the feel of the bar as your lips press against it with the effort of speech.

“Would you have been evicted if I didn’t pay off your debts?”

“Yes.” Tears sting at your eyes. You want to wipe them away but you’re afraid you’ll get soap in them, somehow.

“Are you responsible enough with money to hold a job, maintain an apartment, and buy yourself the necessities for life without someone else stepping in?”

The soap somehow tastes even more bitter. “No, I can’t.” Your tongue pushes up against the soap at this, and you resolve to keep it to one-word answers only.

“If we didn’t intercept your little outing, would you have attempted to throw up at that restaurant today?”

You shake your head, but it’s a lie, and you know it’s a lie--and he knows it’s a lie. So you nod, weakly. “Mm-hmm.”

“Have I been feeding you healthy meals? Have I been ensuring that you don’t engage in disgusting self-destructive behaviors?”

He has, but that’s not--your mind wants to argue, but you’re so tired and sick and your stomach hurts and the taste of the soap is too much. So you nod, instead.

He nods in response, and you pray that he’ll take the soap out and end this. Instead, he lifts your chin with a single finger, making you keep eye contact as he speaks.

“Do I take care of you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your words garbled around the wet soap bar. He releases your chin and it’s these words, this final question, that make you break entirely. Your shoulders ache from bruises as you cry, hunching over slightly and watching as some drool-laden soap droplets fall on the floor. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, mechanically, crying around the bitter soap that’s digging into your front teeth.

Satisfied, he takes hold of the bar and waits for you to release it, then tosses it with ease into the trash. You blubber and spit, only succeeding in releasing a trail of soapy drool down your chin. Your tears are hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks. You open your mouth, you try to say something, but all that comes out is soft cries punctuated by your attempts to spit out the soapy film.  

“Look at you,” he murmurs, bringing a gloved hand up to your cheek and wiping at the tears. “My poor thing. You can’t even speak. You can’t even articulate yourself. How could you ever hope to make it on your own?” His words are soft and cruel and you merely cry harder, humiliated and helpless.

Your throat is sore. Your stomach hurts. You want your warm nightgown on. You want to be in bed. You wish your stomach didn’t hurt so much from eating junk. You wish you weren’t covered in cuts and bruises. You wish you’d just enjoyed the garden and went back inside. You wish you’d never done this at all. You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid.

And you finally say so, all of it, blubbering, bits of soapy drool dribbling out of your mouth as you cry and admit your faults out loud.

After your wrought-out apology dissolves into meaningless whimpers, Overhaul finally grabs the glass of water he set on the edge of the sink, and you gratefully swish the lukewarm liquid with earnest. You lean over the sink and spit, body trembling, then fill the cup again and repeat the gesture again and again to get rid of every bit of white soap stuck in your mouth. Even as you spit, you realize that the taste isn’t going to be completely gone anytime soon--it’s stuck in your mouth like a bad memory.

You jerk when his hands are suddenly on your back, rubber gloves sliding up and down the thin medical gown covering your cold, helpless body. But he merely keeps rubbing, gentle and soothing, while you swish and spit, and cry and cry.

His hands leave your back only to grab a washcloth from the built-in shelves across from the toilet. You watch as he wets the cloth and you stand silently, allowing him to wipe up the drool and soap from your chin, your neck, even a bit on your chest where it dribble-dropped downward.

When you’re all cleaned up, he fills up a cup with mouth wash and silently hands it to you. You gratefully swish it for as long as possible before spitting it into the sink. The soap taste is still there, but lessened somewhat by the overpowering mint of the mouthwash. He gestures to your toothbrush and you pick it up, and begin mechanically brushing your teeth, stopping when the 2-minute timer flashes on the bottom. You instinctively grab your floss without having to be told and make quick work of that, too.

He opens the door to the bathroom, but gestures for you to wait. You do, standing numbly, wishing that he let you have a mirror so you could see your own state. But he doesn’t, and you can’t, and so you wait until he returns with a bundle in his arms.

It’s your pajamas. A soft, pink nightgown--he didn’t pick the soft blue one, tonight, and you’re grateful to avoid any reminders of the medical gown you have on--with matching socks and underwear. You nod and accept the bundle meekly. He turns around and you make quick work of the medical gown, tossing it in the trash yourself before you get dressed for bed.

“M’done,” you mumble, though you quickly realize speaking makes the lingering soap taste stronger. You follow him silently out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, which is just as you left it that morning. The only thing different is you. Subdued, humiliated, helpless.

Overhaul pulls the cover on your bed and you sit down, numb and chastened. You pull your legs up and tuck them under the soft comforter. You’re forcing yourself into the routine you’ve been following for the past few weeks, but the secret thrill you once had of obeying with ulterior movies is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a heavy stillness, the knowledge that you failed in more ways than one. The occasional roll of your stomach reminds you that the night may not be over, bedtime routine be damned.

But you ignore it for now, and you lean your head back on your pillow as he pulls the comforter towards your shoulders, tucking you in. Rather than leave immediately, he sits next to you on the bed, looking down at you with an obsessive, possessive expression in his eyes.

You force down an instinctive flinch when he suddenly begins to stroke the top of your forehead, moving up to pet your hair softly. His gloves are gone. While not completely new, it’s rare--rare enough that the feeling of his bare fingers is still an unusual sensation.

You close your eyes. It usually makes him leave faster. Your heart begins to pound as you hear him stand, as you sense him leaning in, as you feel the ghost of his breath against your face.

“Sweet dreams. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

What a silly thing to say, you think. Your dreams are never sweet anymore.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #yandere #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes #uhh I added 2000 words in between last night and now

[flying-nimbus-cloud]

Aight Peter Maximoff stans, I want to point out some plot holes and unanswered questions about "Ralph Bohner"

WandaVision Spoilers:

(I am in currently listening to Sweet Dreams/80s music while writing this very drunk, determined and in immense denial. 😁🤘)

(Pls read, my drunk smol brain worked hard on dis 😘👉👈)

Ralphs name. Why doesn't Ralph Bohner have a hex name and a real name? Unless "Pietro" was essentially his hex name. But I truly believe that Wanda unintentionally or otherwise wouldn't name some random civilian "Pietro", right? Like how Sarah was named Dottie at random, wouldn't that be the case for Ralph also? From what was shown it made it out to seem he's called Ralph Bohner in and out of the hex.

From episode 1-5 Agatha spoke about Ralph like he was her husband for some reason. Why did he only appear in episode 5 if she had Ralph under her control to use to her benefit from the very beginning? It's just odd.

Agatha's abilities. Agataha had shown Wanda that can perform illusions(like how she turned a bug into a bird). So... why didn't she make Ralph look like Wandas brother if she can make illusions? Especially after going through the trouble of picking a guy that acts nothing like Wandas brother and giving him powers? Agathas power scale confuses me so much.

Why did Wanda recognize Ralph Bohner when he showed up at her door? The explanation "Cause magic" would feel so cheap. I seriously don't understand this. Wanda despite her fragile mindset would be like, "Who are you? You don't look like my brother. You don't act like him. He's dead(Wanda definitely knows that internally.) The only thing you both have in common is the superpowers. Y'all move fast." Now if it was Peter Maximoff from another universe I'd assume that Wanda can sense he's her sort-of brother but not really. Almost like somethings a little off....at least that's what I thought, but nope. He's a random person apparently, so there isn't that instinctual connection. So then why the recognition at all?

The alarm. In episode 5 right when Ralph appears at Wandas door some random ass alarm goes off at Swords base outside the hex. Why?? Peter Maximoff fans and myself thought that was him possibly entering the hex somehow. But apparently not...so what was that exactly?? Of course that was never explained.

Ralphs superspeed. So, y'all telling me that Agatha had not only forcibly put a necklace on Ralph to control him to be her "eyes and ears" BUT ALSO gave him LITERAL superpowers?? All of that is completely glossed over. Mf at Marvel will probably say, "Cause Magic" smh.

Jimmys missing guy. There's unfortunately a lot to debunk this theory, but I could still see it being a possibility. Jimmy along with Monica and Darcy all saw the TV when Ralph was on it, but Jimmy never said a word. An interesting point though is the fact that this witness protection person was never brought up again, which is really fucking weird. More shit left unanswered. Could it be "Ralph"? We don't know.

The house. Ralph Bohner is supposedly a struggling actor. At least that's the explanation many have said is the reason as to why he has a random headshot of himself laying about his man cave. But then how does he live in that big ass family home? Plus that house ain't actually Agathas, she came into WestView looking for Wanda to find answers about the hex. That wasn't originally her house. With Ralph looking like the broke ass himbo he is...how could he afford to live there if he supposedly lived as a civilian in that town to begin with??? Make this make sense lol.

Ralph chuckled at his name. Aight aight I know this is a stretch, but hear me out; If you had a dumbass name that sounded weird, you'd probably be used to people making fun of it or saying it wrong, right? You'd maybe even get tired of hearing the silly name your entire life. But when Monica said Ralphs name, he chuckled like one would at their silly fake name and not their real name. That's at least how my dumbass would react to someone saying a funny name I choose for myself. And honestly "Ralph Bohner" truly sounds like a name that Peter would choose lol. Unless WandaVisions writing team said, "Evan, we want you to laugh at your name like you've never heard anyone pronounce Bohner like Boner before." Or maybe Ralph didn't know his own name because he was under Agathas control still...or something.

Why "Ralph Bohner"? K so lets just say we all accept that they stunt casted Evan Peters and he is and always will be a nobody named Ralph Bohner. Marvel knew- no, knows that fans of Evan Peters Quicksilver and the X-Men would get hyped up bout him when they made that glorious reveal in episode 5. So they really dragged that expectation out for 3 weeks, to leave it off on a dick joke? Nah, Marvel/Disney can't be that stupid right?....right?

They gave us some hope and hefty amount of evidence(that isn't listed all here) that Ralph could be Peter Maximoff because of some Multiverse shenanigans....

But then they left it like...this?

Tis very strange of Marvel to think people wouldn't notice how they kinda, sorta baited fans if left like this.

I literally had no crazy theories for this entire show, everything Marvel I take with stride with almost zero expectations...then my boy Evan Peters showed up and my ass finally had some hope to see my comfort character make an appearance in the MCU...which ironically ended in a dick joke. The universe said, "Nah fam, you can't hope for shit lol 🤡"

Anyways, I'd like if this could give some evidence to those still willing to believe that Ralph Bohner is Peter Maximoff. With so many unanswered questions and plot holes with his character, it just feels wrong for him to be nobody...y'know?

Also I'm sorry if this gives you false hope lol.

Love y'all, Peter Maximoff stans are sweet as heck. 💕

#evan peters #peter maximoff #ralph bohner #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #fietro #wanda vision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel comics #marvel studios #mcu #xmen #x men #marvel #disney #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #monica rambeau

[multi-fandom-imagines-stuff]

Smaller Than This

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/daughter!reader, Peter Parker/platonic!reader, Wanda Maximoff/reader

Description: The reader is Natasha Romanoff’s daughter, best friend of Peter Parker, and girlfriend of Wanda Maximoff. Growing up in the spotlight is hard enough, but things cross a line when people start commenting on the reader’s weight.

Warnings: eating disorder, swearing, threats of violence

Word count: 3,282

A/N: I know it’s not easy to deal with eating disorders, but please know that you are beautiful and amazing and you don’t deserve to have to suffer through that. Please, if you are struggling with this, reach out for help. <3

✩❀✩❀✩

Black Widow’s daughter spotted in Central Park with new best friend Scarlet Witch and Stark Industry intern Peter Parker! Could Parker be y/n’s new boyfriend?

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you clicked on the tweet. Stalking paparazzi twitter accounts had to be one of your favorite pastimes, simply because the so-called facts they were giving out were false 99% of the time. For instance, this situation? You had gone out for a picnic with Peter and Wanda when those photos were taken, and the paparazzi completely twisted things. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just your best friend. And Wanda wasn’t your best friend, she was your girlfriend. You chose to ignore the false headline as you went immediately for the replies.

‘Do you see the way y/n’s looking at Wanda? It seems more like there’s something going on between them than there is between y/n and Peter’

You smiled and liked that tweet. You liked messing with people just a bit. Whenever someone would tweet about there possibly being a relationship between you and Wanda, you liked the tweet. It wasn’t enough information to actually confirm the relationship as true, but it was enough to keep people speculating.

You scrolled through several more replies. Most of them were people using the heart eyes emoji or saying how much they loved your mom, but there were a few in there that stuck out more than the rest. That was because they were harsh and hurtful.

‘I don’t understand how someone can live with the Avengers and still look like that. Does she ever even exercise?’

‘She could stand to lose some weight. Instead of going out for a picnic, she should try to skip a few meals’

You read through replies for a few more minutes. Similar comments would pop up now and then, and while there wasn’t an overwhelming amount, there was still enough to make you close down the app and shut off your phone, averting all your attention toward not crying. 

“Miss y/n, dinner has been called,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through your room.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, you got off your bed and made your way to the dining room. There, Peter and Wanda were setting the table while Steve and Bucky carried out the food.

You walked up behind your girlfriend and wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. You felt her jump slightly before she realized it was you and relaxed into your touch. You placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I love you,” You whispered in her ear.

“Hey! What did we talk about?” Tony directed at you, raising an eyebrow at you and causing you to roll your eyes.

“No lovey-dovey shit at the dinner table,” You mumbled.

“Language!” Steve scolded you as Clint joined the conversation.

“Oh, come on, Tony,” He said. “It’s young love. It’s harmless and adorable.”

“It makes me want to hurl,” Tony retorted.

To onlookers, it may have sounded like Tony was being a real dick, but you knew he was just teasing you. He’d never admit it, but secretly he loved how happy you and Wanda made each other.

“Watch it, Stark,” Your mom shot him a glare. “That’s my kid you’re talking about.”

Your head whipped up at your mom’s voice. She had been on a mission for the past week and wasn’t supposed to get home for another three days.

“Mom!” You yelled as you ran toward her, wrapping your arms around her as you squeezed her tight.

“Hey, kiddo! I’ve missed you!” She said, hugging you back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I’ve missed you, too!”

“As much as I hate to break up this reunion,” Bucky said, causing you to pull away from your mom. “Steve and I slaved over dinner and it’s getting cold, so let’s eat.”

You took your seat at the table—in between Peter and Wanda—and filled your plate with the spaghetti and garlic bread Steve and Bucky made. Everyone was silent as you all dug into your food and, you had to admit, it tasted amazing. 

When Steve and Bucky first moved in, neither of them were allowed near a stove without supervision. They had started too many accidental fires. But after lots and lots of practice, the two of them easily became the best cooks in the tower.

After dinner, you excused yourself to your room. Your phone was still lying face down on the bed, so you grabbed it and opened it up. Right away, you noticed several notifications from twitter. Upon further investigation, you found that the rude comments people were saying about you had extended to your messages. Now, you had complete strangers messaging you about how you needed to ‘lose weight’, or ‘eat less’, or ‘exercise more’. A few of the messages even called you a ‘disappointment to the Avengers’.

You deactivated your account and deleted the app from your phone, but the damage was already done and you knew it. So you came up with a plan and decided to set it into motion the next morning.

✩❀✩❀✩

You woke up in the morning to your alarm blaring. Checking the time, you saw it was 4:30, and you wondered why your alarm was going off so early before you remembered the plan you had made the night before.

You got out of bed and quickly dressed in athletic attire before running out of your room. You knew Steve liked to run in the mornings, so you sat in the kitchen waiting for him.

When he finally sauntered in at 5:00, he was more than surprised to see you sitting there.

“Y/n?” He asked. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Can I run with you today, Uncle Steve?” You asked him, a pleading look on your face that you knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Yeah, sure,” He said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be sleeping?”

You nodded. 

“I want to start running. My mile time in P.E. class has been slacking lately and I don’t want to fail the class.”

You were surprised yet proud of how quickly you were able to come up with that lie, and you were happy to see that Steve believed every word of it.

So that’s how you spent your morning: running laps with Steve.

The two of you finally called it quits around 6:15 and parted ways. Steve went off to do whatever he did during the days, and you went off to squeeze in a quick shower before school.

By the time you were done with your shower, it was nearly 7:00, which meant you had to rush to get dressed. You finally made it to the kitchen, where Wanda was already waiting for you. The two of you yelled a quick ‘bye’ to whoever was listening before you started the quick walk to the bus stop.

You felt Wanda’s hand interlock with yours and a smile arose on your face as you squeezed her hand. You two didn’t want to publicly disclose your relationship yet, so you knew the minute you reached the bus stop you’d have to let go.

✩❀✩❀✩

At lunch, you sat at a table with Wanda, Peter, MJ, and Ned. You skipped the food line and instead opted to sip at a bottle of water.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Peter asked you.

“What do you mean?” You shot back, not quite sure what he was getting at.

“You’re not eating.”

Shit. You had to think of a lie, and you had to be extra careful since your girlfriend could read minds. She promised you she’d never read your mind without your consent, but you were still wary.

“Uh...I’m just not feeling well,” You said. “My stomach is feeling a little flip-floppy and I don’t want to push it.”

To your luck, they nodded it off and changed the topic, not questioning you again for the rest of the day.

That night at dinner, you pushed the food around on your plate, eating a few bites here and there. It wasn’t hard to pretend you had eaten, especially since your family was so big. Everyone seemed to be so caught up in conversations with other people that they didn’t notice when you got up and scraped your food into the trash.

✩❀✩❀✩

These habits carried on for a few more weeks. You’d wake up every morning to run with Steve, make up some excuse for why you didn’t eat lunch, and you’d have a few bites of dinner before sneakily trashing it. On most weekends, you chose to spend your time training with your mom. You claimed it was so that you could stay sharp with your self-defense skills, and while that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t the full truth, either. But your mom never questioned it, and you were glad.

You seemed to fly under the radar, until one Sunday afternoon.

You walked into your room after training with your mom to find Peter and Wanda waiting for you.

“Hey, guys,” You greeted, throwing yourself into a chair and downing half a bottle of water. “What’s up?” 

“We know,” Wanda said, a stern yet concerned look on her face.

“Know what?” You asked her, although you could feel your heart rate rising. You knew what she was talking about.

“That you haven’t been eating,” Peter joined in.

“What’re you talking about? Of course I’ve been eating.”

That was a lie. Your stomach hadn’t been properly filled in weeks and you couldn’t remember the last time it wasn’t rumbling. But that wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that you were finally losing weight. There’s no way you could stop now.

“Cut the crap, y/n,” Peter said, catching you by surprise. “We’ve been watching you. I can’t even remember the last time you bought a school lunch.”

“And you pick at your food at dinner every night,” Wanda added. “I haven’t seen you eat more than three bites. You think no one notices, but you’re wrong. And I can feel you, love. You feel...empty.”

Wanda rested her hand on your knee as you tried to process what was happening. You had been so good at hiding this, how had they found out?

“You guys, I’m—” You started before Peter cut you off.

“Don’t say you’re fine, because you’re not. We know it, and you know it, so please stop lying to us, y/n. We just want to help.”

“I have it under control, I don’t need help,” You protested. “Just...please don’t tell my mom.”

“Y/n—”

“Wanda, please,” You begged. “My mom has enough to worry about as it is. I don’t need to add this to her stress as well. I promise, I have it under control. I’m alright.”

Wanda and Peter shared a look before turning back to you. 

“We’ll keep this between us for now,” Peter said, and you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“But, if things get any worse, we won’t hesitate to bring your mom into this,” Wanda warned.

You nodded and the two of them left, Wanda kissing you quickly before walking out of the room. 

‘I just need to hide it better’ you thought to yourself. ‘This is all my fault for being too obvious about things. I need to do better.’

Wanda and Peter had dropped the topic for the time being, until a week later, things took a turn for the worse when your P.E. teacher announced that your class was running the mile that day.

Thanks to training with Steve, your mile time had improved and you were one of the fastest in the class. However, due to malnutrition, any sort of exercise made you extremely lightheaded. 

You ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to make up some excuse to sit out. You convinced yourself you just weren’t drinking enough water so you drank an entire water bottle and went to class.

You were about halfway done with your mile when the corners of your vision turned black. You blinked a few times, trying to edge it away, but it was no use. By now, you heard a loud ringing in your ears and the world started spinning around you. You slowed down a bit, trying to regain your composure when you felt your knees buckle underneath you, and you were plunged into a world of darkness, not feeling it when you hit the ground.

✩❀✩❀✩

When you awoke, you were still laying on the field, your entire class swarming around you. You were trying to sit up when you felt something attached to your hand. 

You looked to the right and saw Wanda sitting there, looking scared as hell.

“Miss Maximoff, Mr. Parker, please escort Miss Romanoff to the nurse’s office,” Your teacher ordered.

You felt Wanda help lift you to a standing position and once you were up, you felt the world start spinning again. You shut your eyes tight as two arms, you assumed they belonged to Wanda and Peter, wrapped around either side of your waist. Soon enough, the dizziness ceased and you opened your eyes, signaling for Peter and Wanda to start walking with you.

You made it to the nurse’s station where you saw your mom already waiting.

“Mom?” You asked, wondering how she had gotten to your school so quickly.

“Peter called me the second he saw you fall,” She explained.

You, Wanda, and Peter were dismissed from school early, and your mom led you all back to her car. You sat in the passenger seat while Peter and Wanda sat in the back.

“What happened?” Your mom demanded.

The tone of her voice scared you a little bit, but you knew it was filled more with concern than it was with anger.

“I must’ve just gotten overheated or something,” You lied, knowing exactly why you passed out. “I was doing fine one second, and then the next I was on the ground.”

“That’s not true, Ms. Romanoff,” Peter interjected.

You whipped your head around to him and shook your head, silently pleading him to not tell her.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Peter, stop,” You said, panicking at what was about to be said.

“Y/n hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a month,” Wanda admitted.

You shot your girlfriend a look of betrayal before turning back around to face forward.

“You, what?!” Your mom blared. “Y/n, is this true?”

Your silence was enough of an answer for her to understand that yes, it was true.

“Y/n, baby, why?” Your mom said.

You could tell she was trying to be strong, but her voice was cracking.

“Because I’m not like you guys, okay?!” You finally snapped, letting loose all of your pent-up emotions. “I don’t have a super-human metabolism like Peter, and I don’t have a perfectly in-shape body. I’m not an avenger and it sure as hell shows. Even people I don’t even know were making comments about it on twitter.”

“Is that why you disabled your account?” Peter asked, realization hitting him.

You nodded and looked down at your fingers, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them.

By now, you had reached the tower and your mom put the car into park, turning to face you.

“Y/n, I know it’s been hard for you to grow up in the spotlight, constantly being compared to us but this isn’t healthy,” She said, cupping your chin and lightly pulling your head up to meet her gaze. “If I had known all of this, I never would have let you do all those extra training sessions with me. It’s not safe for you to keep exercising like this when you’re not giving your body proper nourishment.”

“I can’t—” You sniffed. “I can’t stop. I need help.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as your mom brushed it away, pulling you in for a hug before the four of you got out of the car.

Once inside, your mom told you to sit down in the living room while she left for a few minutes. When she returned, she had the rest of the team with her and you could only assume she had given them the run-down on your situation. 

You were slightly hurt that she had shared your personal life like that, but you knew it was for the best.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Your mom said once everyone was settled. “Y/n, you’re going to help with dinner every night. I know it can be hard once you’ve developed a food phobia, but when you’re in control of what we eat every night it makes things a little easier. No more throwing your food in the trash, okay? As for school, I’ll be making you a homemade lunch each day, and Peter and Wanda will be keeping an eye on you and will be reporting back to me. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call and set you up an appointment with a therapist. Bottling up your emotions will only make things worse, trust me. You need to talk to someone, and a therapist will help to give you healthier coping mechanisms.”

You listened as your mom laid out these new rules before telling you to go lie down. As you got up to leave, you were bombarded with your family hugging you and telling you they were there for you. You honestly had never felt more loved and supported in your life.

You finally made your way to your room, lying down in bed. A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come in,” You said weakly.

The handle turned and Wanda walked in, using her powers to levitate a tray behind her. You sat up and she put the tray down in your lap. On the tray, you saw there was a plate of cheese and crackers.

You looked down at the tray before looking up at your girlfriend. You forced yourself to pick up one of the crackers and take a bite, your mind screaming at you the entire time. But you were sick. You knew this. You wanted to get better.

“I’m sorry for telling your mother,” Wanda spoke. “You were slowly killing yourself and I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I’m so sorry, y/n. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t blame you, Wan,” You told her. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have forced you and Peter to keep this a secret.”

Wanda wrapped you into her arms, squeezing tightly. The two of you stayed like that for a long time before you pulled away and, bite by bite, finished the snack she had brought you.

✩❀✩❀✩

You had been in recovery for about a month now, and while things were far from easy, you knew you could do it. Your family was your support system and they were right there by your side every step of the way.

You were sitting on the couch with Peter and Wanda, you and your girlfriend tangled in each other’s arms as you watched your mom on tv. She was finishing up a press conference.

“Oh, and one last thing before I go,” She spoke toward the camera and the audience. “Whoever decided to make awful comments about my daughter online, I am a trained assassin and I will find you.”

#oneshot #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter reader #wanda maximoff #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff x reader #tw ed talk #tw ed stuff #eating disoder mention

[shokami]

featuring tsukishima, kenma, oikawa, and semi

genre fluff

word count 1.7k

tsukishima kei

if anyone were to be asked “do you think tsukishima likes to cuddle?” their answer would most definitely be no. which is false.

although he will always tease you about it first and foremost, he secretly enjoys his cuddling time with you.

the teasing has to happen, because it is almost always you who’s trying to initiate the cuddling first.

tsukki thinks that if he were to try to cuddle with literally anyone else, he would hate it. it isn’t because he’s not a people person, but because he’s only ever really cuddled with you. so he’s accustomed to the way you cuddle.

cuddling usually starts when you’re both in the middle of your movie binging, and you’ll be all wrapped up in blankets and eating snacks.

you always curl up underneath his arm, and cuddle into his side— or try to find a way to weasel your way into his lap.

your attempts at trying to get as physically close to him as possible, never fail to amuse him. he scoffs at your effort, and repositions you in a way that’s more comfortable for the two of you.

when it comes to finally sleeping, you’re still cuddled underneath his arm but he’ll pull you in more so that you can lay on his chest and entangle yourself with him.

you’re definitely a mess of limbs together.

slowly peaking your eyes open, you squinted at the absurdly bright rays of light that shined through the curtains. that was your que to finally get out of bed, and start your day.

against what tsukishima would have wanted, had he been awake— you decided to try and squirm your way out from under his grasp. you knew he hated that you were an early bird, he detests that about you everyday and he isn’t afraid to tell you.

as you attempted to wiggle out of the bed, you knew there was no way for you to escape his hold on you without waking him up. always unfortunate for you, considering he was a very grumpy morning person.

you could always smooth it over with a few good morning kisses though, he seemed to enjoy those.

just as you thought you could make it, you were almost out of arm's reach when the familiar cold fingers grasped around your wrist and pulled you back down on top of him. “where do you think you’re going?”

“i wanna go shower, tsukki.” you groaned, already hearing the annoyance in his voice before even seeing his expression. “you could always get your lazy butt up, and come with.”

he groaned, tossing you to the side and pulling you into his chest in a new position. “why can’t we ever sleep in? you have an annoying sleeping pattern.”

“it’s not annoying! you just want to sleep in until 10, every weekend. we lose time like that.”

“yeah, obviously. that’s how time works.”

“tsukishima kei.”

“shut up. go back to sleep, and you can be cute later.”

another sigh, and you relaxed against tsukishima and the pillows once more. there was no use in trying to defy his need to sleep in, you wouldn’t win.

kozume kenma

the two of you are always cuddling, there is no doubt about that. not one bit.

if you aren’t cuddling, you’re still finding a way to be physically touching. touch starvation is very real, and you probably both have it.

when it comes to actually cuddling though, kenma prefers to either be the little spoon or be laying between your legs / on your stomach.

it’s actually your preferred way of sleeping too, as you’re both usually on your phones, or kenma is playing a game that you’re not really paying attention to.

you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair, scrolling through one of your social media apps, and without realizing it he’s drifted off to sleep with his arm wrapped around your waist and his head tucked into your stomach.

this is the comfiest sleeping position, but if either of you tosses and turns in your sleep it’s likely that the direct cuddling will stop.

but, the two of you will still have physical contact. kenma will either hold your hand from the opposite side of the bed, or you’ll still be close enough that your leg is brushing against his underneath the pile of blankets.

eventually though, you’ll probably roll over behind him and koala yourself against his back before repeating the cycle of tossing and turning again.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“kenma make it stop.” you pulled the blanket up over your head, cursing the alarm.

he made no noise, or movement— sleeping through the sound as if the room was silent.

you didn’t know why either of you ever had it set, it wasn’t like the two of you ever woke up at a decent hour. especially not when the god awful sound of it started screaming at you. it was always shut off, and tossed to the side. you made a mental note to tell kenma that you should just throw it out.

“KENMA! ALARM. OFF.”

finally snapping out of his sleep, he sat up startled by the noise of the alarm and your irritated sleepy voice. quickly slapping at the alarm on the nightstand, he silenced the beeping. climbing underneath the blankets to get closer to you in the dark room, you offered him a tired smile.

it was going to be another one of those days, where you continue to convince each other to sleep in just a little longer each hour. the previous nights antics, of screaming at the television screen at the new game you both decided to play, you were both overly exhausted and craved sleep. again.

“what time did the clock say?” you asked, pecking a kiss to his nose.

“11:30 a.m,” he closed his eyes once more, snuggling into you. “wanna sleep in longer?”

“i thought you’d never ask, kenken.”

oikawa tooru

he is almost always the big spoon. he loves how you fit into his arms, and feeling like he can protect you from the world.

it definitely gives him a certain type of satisfaction that he never really knew he needed, until he got to cuddle in bed with you for the first time.

oikawa being the big spoon helps him feel needed. which is something that he needs a lot of constantly, honestly.

however, there are times when you get to be the big spoon.

these times come after he’s had long tiresome practices, particularly hard days, or after losing a match.

more often than not, you end up in this sleeping position because he asked, or you came into the bedroom after he was already dozing off.

either way, you will always gladly oblige and climb into bed after him.

you always make sure to play with his hair, by softly brushing it away from his face

you were enjoying the body heat that was radiating off of oikawa, the warmth spread through you in the most comforting way. your internal clock could sense that the sun was rising, and ultimately you knew what came with that. that didn��t stop your unconscious mind hoping for the opposite though. you knew oikawa had already had a rough practice the day before, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him in your arms and rest for the morning.

that fantasy was quickly shattered.

the weight of the bed began to shift, and your arms were slowly unwrapped from his torso. attempting his move from the bed, you decided to take matters into your own hands. with ease, you softly grasped the back of his t-shirt and pulled him back down to the surface.

a surprised groan, followed by soft laughter; oikawa stared down at you as if you were a sleepy child. “angel face, i have to get ready for practice.”

“no, just a little while longer… please?” you pleaded, pulling the best performance with your pouty face.

with a soft kiss, oikawa collapsed fully into your arms once more. “20 minutes,” he told you sternly.

an hour passed by, and he was still in bed with you. he just can’t say no to that face. he hates the way you pout, and use it against him.

semi eita

if he wants to cuddle, you better be prepared for him to be grumpy about it.

he doesn’t know how to directly ask you for cuddles without being awkward, or sound demanding.

usually, he’ll just lay beside you and give you very indirect gestures that he assumes you’ll know mean that it’s affection time. ( you've picked up on the indirect hints he gives you.)

it’s very rare that semi will cuddle in any position that doesn’t involve him on top of you.

similar to kenma, he will lay between your legs with his chin resting on your stomach or your chest and just hold you like that.

he is also a very touchy cuddler, meaning he will rub your thigh, your sides, and play with your hair. whatever he can touch, he will. his love language is heavily dependent on touch.

when you’re finally falling asleep wrapped up in one another, he will most likely find a comfy position to lay with his head still on your chest.

we call this position the cradle.

the moment you began to stir, you could tell you were alone in bed. you were no longer intertwined with semi, but you could hear the distant noises of rustling around in the kitchen.

it wasn’t uncommon for semi to wake up before you, sneak out of your grasp, and go on to make a cup of coffee for himself or the both of you. he never wanted to wake you up early, because you looked so peaceful sleeping that he didn’t want to ruin that.

however, that did not stop him from peaking his head into the room to see if you were awake yet. as if on que, you heard the creek of the bedroom door followed by light footsteps.

“eita,” you opened one eye, looking up to see semis drowsy expression staring back at you. “come back to bed, baby. we can sleep in.”

“... but it’s already 7 a.m.”

“7 a.m is really early. we don’t have anything to do today, right?”

“no.”

“so… sleepy time, again?”

semi rolled his eyes, knowing that you would just keep asking if he didn’t climb back into bed. he didn’t know why he bothered waking up early, if you were just going to guilt him into bed again with puppy eyes.

“you’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the palm of your hand.

a/n this was not supposed to be this long, and this is what it turned out to be... tooth rotting fluff. very nice maki

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

#neo ; game installments #neo ; tsukishima #neo ; kozume #neo ; oikawa #neo ; semi #hqradiostation #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #semi eita #semi x reader #tsukishima headcanons #kenma headcanons #oikawa headcanons #semi headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #karasuno #nekoma #aoba johsai #shiratorizawa

[melo-yello]

📚School Struggles📚 w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku💥🪨 HeadCanons

Pairings: KiriBaku X Black!Reader

Summary: College AU! Reader falls behind in course work, and won’t tell anybody. But Kirishima and Bakugou find out.

A/n: I’m an adult who went most of my life with undiagnosed learning disabilities so this would just be comforting to me. Lil angst! Lots of fluff. Implied ADHD and Dyslexia.

📕🖊 First tests are handed back in four of your eight classes.You’ve failed all but one which you barely passed. You are asked stay back as yet another professor suggests you find a tutor

📕🖊You’re lowkey offended. You’ve never needed a tutor before. Up until recently your performance in other areas compensated for your less than stellar academics. You were in gifted courses all your life. You would just hafta try harder

📕🖊 Kiri and Baku are saving a spot in line for you by the time you meet them at the cafe when you shove the thoughts of failure out of your brain and perk up to your usual self

📕🖊 Kiri’s face lights up as soon as he spots you. “Over here, Babe!” He beams flagging you down. Like it was hard to make out the giant red head in a crowd. Especially with the large lean, continuously pissed blonde scowling at everyone right by his side.

📕🖊 “Hey,Dumbass.” Baku smiles slightly and pulls a hand from his pocket to offer you a hug and a kiss on the temple

📕🖊 Kiri pulls you by your waist into his torso kissing your forehead “What took you so long?” He asks letting you free from the vice grip he had on your curvy hips

📕🖊 “I got a lil turned around again.” You lie pulling Bakugou’s free hand into yours then lean into his shoulder. There’s something very comforting about how warm he is all the time. You wanted to snuggle into his back but PDA really isn’t his thing and you are already pushing it

📕🖊 “It’s a big campus, Teddy, you just have to get used to it. You just transferred. Me and Eiji can take turns walking you from class to class until you get the hang of it, you know?” Baku says trying to read your eyes. He could just feel something is off. Your box braids and the angle itself saves you from any further scrutiny.

📕🖊“You guys, gotta be pretty sprung to do that for me, ya know.” You quip smirking up at him then over to Kiri. “Fuck you too, Teddy Bear.” Baku huffs smirking *maybe he was wrong, unlikely* “Yea basically, Pebs. Liking who you date is super manly.” Kirishima laughs grabbing his tray.

📕🖊 You three finally sit in a small wrap around booth. Bakugou taking the middle spot today. You do your best to not zone out and hyper fixate on your test scores by making sure to laugh at Kiri’s jokes and nod along with Baku’s venting

📕🖊 You slide your fork in and out of your picked over food as you strategize how to fix your current problem without alerting your boyfriends. Before you knew it your table is quiet with two crimson gazes fixed on you

📕🖊 “You’re quiet today, L/n.” Bakugou says fixing you with a deeply fierce gaze which was his way of looking concerned. Sharpness of your actual name drew you from your thoughts in a instant. “Hmmm I think Kats has a point, L/n Y/n.” Kirishima says in between slurps of his smoothie. His red eyes practically dripping with curious concern

📕🖊 You make a quick split decision between the truth and charm. “Wow, my government. I must be in real big trouble.” You pout trying to flirt your way out of a more serious conversation. You poke out your plush bottom at Kiri while slipping a hand onto Baku’s inner thigh and gently squeezing before hitting him with the same seductive pout

📕🖊 Big Mistake!😳 Bakugou’s vermillion eyes widen before becoming instantly stern as he grips your wrist tight enough to hurt. “The fuck are you doing?!! I was being serious, Y/n! And in public?!! You’re fucking priceless!” The ash blonde hisses with angry pink cheeks. Guilt washes over you when you snatch your wrist back. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to...talk about it.” You mumble. “Then use your fucking words!” 😤 Bakugou kisses his teeth and stands so Kiri lets him out. “He’s just a little embarrassed, Pebble. I needa talk him down. You can find your next class right?” He sighs watching Baku storm out

📕🖊 “Yea. I’m sorry. Tell him, Kiri. Please.” You squeak sheepishly grabbing your stuff. “He knows but I will. He’s mad about other stuff.” He nods following after Bakugou

📕🖊 It’s intimidating to compete with their history at times. You couldn’t bring yourself to just dump all your issues on them

📕🖊 You’ve only been dating since summer and Kiri and Baku have been dating since their senior year in high school year. You guys are starting your junior year and are still learning each other.

📕🖊 You get lost a couple times before finding the right building. The noise in your head going nearly at light speed to wrap all the problems you’re having. The professor passes the test you’d spent majority of last night and early morning studying for. You felt confident until it was in your hands.

📕🖊 You chew the pen top trying to finish up the last 7 short answer questions when then alarm for 5 minutes left is given. You panic not even having started the true false section on the last page. You scribble down answers just as time up is announced across the classroom

📕🖊 Defeat washes over while you shuffle out the door. You reach in your pocket to dig out the card for Student Accomidation Services your World Civ professor gave you. Maybe this was something simple as a “processing problem” as she had explained when you visited her during office hours

📕🖊 A throat clearing pulls you from your thoughts. You jump stuffing both hands into your jeans card and all. Bakugou stood unreadable propped up on a wall only a few steps away from you. “Eiji, thinks we need to talk about the cafe. Plus he doesn’t get out of lab til 3:45, so you’re kinda stuck with me.” Bakugou mumbles offering his palm as an olive branch.

📕🖊 “He’s probably right. I don’t mind just you, Tuff Guy. I really am sorry though, Katsuki.” You sigh interlocking your fingers with his. “I know, Teddy. I wasn’t really mad about that anyways.” Baku concedes as you two stroll down the hall. “I didn’t hurt your wrist earlier, did I?” Baku asks softly opening the door and meeting your eyes with gentle concern. “Nah, You didn’t, King Explosion Murder.” You laugh giving his hand a firm squeeze before kissing it

📕🖊 The walk to your dorm is quiet and peaceful. He lets you settle your school bag before speaking again “I just feel like you’re still trying to hide parts of yourself from us, especially me,” He says looking into your eyes now, “Like you’ve been pulling back. Eijirou thinks I’m looking too deep, but I doubt it. I know I can be a little rough and mean sometimes...well a lot of the times. I’m not easy to get along with. But you know you can talk to us when you’re upset or if something bothering you... if I’m bothering you. I don’t like you feeling like you have to pretend to be ok if you’re not.” Baku finishes crossing his arms tightly across your chest.

📕🖊 You dig your nails into your palms mercilessly. You open your mouth to reply and reassure him but the words won’t come. Baku notices what you’re doing to your hands and steps closer to take them into his. He rubs slow circles into the backs of them. Hot tears pool at the corners of your eyes as you try to find your voice. “Kats, I’m...I didn’t me...I...Of course you’re not what’s bothering me.” you croak out just as tears roll down your face and Baku pulls you to his chest.

📕🖊 Your breathing hitches and you just let yourself be disappointed, confused, frustrated, and upset about the last month and a half of struggling and wondering why you couldn’t tell anybody and why no one was even noticing. But He did. Baku had noticed. He rocks gently as you tremble in his arms rubbing firm circles in your lower back.

📕🖊 You two stay like that for what seems forever. Once your breathing evens out Baku’s hold relaxes. He kisses both your temples.You reluctantly let go , so you can pull wrinkled failing test pages from your backpack. “Please don’t laugh at me, Suki.” You peep placing the cause of your meltdown in his hands not attempting to have your puffy eyes met his red ones. Lifting your chin so you’re looking him in the eyes. “Come on, Teddy Bear. I wouldn’t dare.” He nods with the most serious face

📕🖊 Bakugou is quiet for a while as he leafs through the exam papers. “Why didn’t finish any of them?” He asks “Time. I’m a slow reader.” You mutter back. “I’ve seen you doing homework for two of these courses and passing those, what’s happening?” Baku says staring in disbelief at the scores at the top of each exam.

📕🖊 You swallow the lingering fear of judgement. You place a hand at your temple to remind yourself of Baku’s earlier tenderness. “I get anxious. It gets so much harder to read when I’m that worked up, and I can barely focus once I start forgetting answers...I know it’s just a test. I guess...That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” You sigh shrug off your own explanation.

📕🖊 “Nope. Not dumb at all. Sounds like test anxiety to me. I struggled with that in high school . I didn’t know you were a slow reader, Teddy.” Baku says pulling your hand before you can dig your nails into it. “Yea. One of my professors thinks I have dyslexia and ADHD...but I’m not stupid sooo.” You hum rocking on your heels “That is not what either of those words mean, and I know you know that, L/n.” Bakugou growls he absolutely hates when you or Kirishima talk down on yourselves. “Yea but it feels like it though.” You sigh biting your lips

📕🖊 Before Baku can say a word, Kiri swings the door open. “Babes! Have you two hotties missed me?” The red head shouts coming through the door way smiling until he sees your puffy eyes and tense posture. “Bakugou Katsuki, I know you fucking didn’t?!!” Kiri questions suspiciously leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder and wrapping a protective hold around your waist.

📕🖊 “The Absolute fuc-” Baku’s defensive rant is cut short as you kiss the hand holding yours to quiet him as you answer Kiri “No Eiji, he didn’t. I’m flunking like half my classes.” You huff meeting his eyes with quivering lips trying your best not to cry all over again

📕🖊 Kiri is stunted into complete silence. The only thing he can think to say is an apology to his boyfriend for jumping to conclusions. Last time he checked your GPA’s a lot more impressive that his. “How the fuck is that even possible? You transferred into the honor courses.” Kiri says completely baffled moving to where he could see your face.

📕🖊 You explain to your boyfriends all the things that have been tripping you up and confusing you. You detail how hard studying has been as far as staying focused and actually understanding lengthy test questions

📕🖊 Kiri has a million questions at first but stops half way through after Baku grabs your overnight bag and leads you out the door. “You’re gonna freak her out all over again, Shitty Hair, if you keep going at her like that.” He could tell you were getting overwhelmed, and might cry again “My bad, Pebs.” Kiri says kissing your cheek as he follows behind

📕🖊 Once you get back to their apartment and Baku askes for your help making dinner. He has you read the directions and ingredients to him. You stumble through most of it, but that doesn’t stop him from praising you as soon as you finish. He has since learned you and Kiri do best when told how well you’re doing vs his typical shouting method

📕🖊 The three of you set an assessment time with the Student Disability Services on campus that doesn’t conflict with the Boys’ schedules, because they insisted that they’d both be there to support their baby and wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses for an actual reason to miss it

📕🖊 Kiri helps you make flash cards for your next test. If he remembers nothing else from Baku’s tutoring sessions the importance of repetition is drilled into him...among other things. Each time you ask him how that went he’ll just shudder. “It was the most intensely terrifying experience of my high school career, and we fought villains pretty regularly.” Kiri deadpans before grinning like the Cheshire Cat and covering his head. “You’re full of fucking shit, Shark Week! I’m the best tutor you assholes could hope for.” Baku yells pushing Kiri’s face into his pages of notes.

📕🖊 The night before your disability assessment you find yourself tossing and turning at like 4:45 in the morning. Kiri repositions pinning you in place so you face Baku’s back. You trace soft shapes into him just before he flips meeting your eyes. “Lil early isn’t it, Babygirl?” He whispers brushing away a few stray box braids covering your face. You don’t bother answering and instead offer him your palm and he takes it without hesitation interlocking your fingers with his. “Nervous?” He hums when he feels the steady trembling of your hand.

📕🖊 “Katsuki, what if there’s nothing wrong with me? What if it’s just me? What if I’m just...” you trail off not sure if you want him to hear how much this subject shakes your confidence. Bakugou moves close enough for your foreheads to touch. “If you’re just not smart? Not even possible. Whatever it is me and Kiri will help you go beyond. I know this is scary, but every first usually is.” Bakugou smiles softly

📕🖊 “Bbbbbuuut maybe I’m just du-” You attempt to argue until a sharp nip on the side of your neck where Kiri was peacefully nuzzled quiets you. “Nope. Not a chance. Pebble, don’t talk shit about my girlfriend again.” He mumbles in a gravelly half sleep voice. He settles again and snakes an arm around hips as he tugs Baku into you with the other. You open mouth your more to defend yourself but KatSuki just bops your nose as he closes his eyes, “You heard, the sexy ass red mountain. You’re fucking smart. Go back to sleep, Kay?”

📕🖊 “Kay.” You sigh digging your face into the crook of Baku’s neck. You lay there out argued but feeling overwhelming loved, so you chose to let them win the debate. The boys hardly agree on most things so they were totally probably right about this one anyways.

📕🖊 You are on a very very short list of people who Bakugou Katsuki repeats himself for. Like boy lets you “huh?” the fuck out of him. He will often cup your face or hold your hands if he needs tell you something important b/c he understands you’re a tactical learner

📕🖊 Best believe that all your future successes in classes big and small will be celebrated you getting taken out for icecream and if it’s a graded paper they’ll put on the fridge like you’re in grade school. You find it a little embarrassing but it really makes you feel like you’re making progress

📕🖊 Kiri brings your favorite snacks for study sessions so he can reward you for right answers and staying on task. You call it “childish” at first until he shrugs “Oh my bad we can try something els-” about to put them away. “Noooooo no those are my favorites.” You nearly jump over the table. Kiri has a shit eating grin the rest of the study session

📕🖊 When giving directions from the passenger seat both Kiri and Baku typically do a good job of remembering you need them to point left and right

📕🖊 If you’ve had long day in tutoring and homework and you guys are watching anime Bakugou will read the subs to you. Sometimes if he’s in a particularly good mood he might even imitate a voice or two

📕🖊 Kiri would politely let you ramble about one of your niche interests and will help you get back to your point when you get lost in a tangent

📕🖊 Don’t let these two hear you call yourself “dumb” or “stupid” Kiri will just act like he can’t comprehend what you’re saying like deadass “Pebs, speak English please. Nope not catching that, Babygirl. Did you say you were a smarticle particle? An intelligent ass motherfucker?! Oh, of course you are!” While Baku is more like “Sorry what was that? I thought I heard a very accomplished and creative thinking ass bitch say something? A incredibly capable ass bitch say something?A smart ass bitch say something?” Your only response is yes and then you get a forehead kiss

#kiribaku x black reader #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku x dyslexic reader #kiribaku x adhd reader #adhd reader #kiribaku headcanons #kiribaku x reader HeadCanons #learning disabilities #school struggles #kiribaku fluff #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima eijiro headcanons #soft bakugou #bakugou x kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #mha bakugou #adhd #dyslexia

[lostinthewiind]

Hi!!! I just wanted to say that I freaking love your cherry X Joe X Reader poly series! And its actually got me into the anime!!! I was actually wondering if you want to, write one where the female! Reader is being stalked and harassed by a co-worker at her job and she didn't want to tell Joe and cherry because she doesn't want them to worry about her too much because they already have so much on their plates. But one day, the two of them decide to pick up the her up to surprise her, flowers and everything. And they see the co-worker harassing their lover and it's up to you to determine how they would react? Can also plz make were the three of them are engaged?

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Your Problems, My Problems, Our Problems

A/N: first of all, I'm so honoured to hear that I got you into anime :) Secondly, I can already feel that this request is going to be fun to write! I'll make sure to add an engagement fic to the series soon as well because I've been meaning to anyway. So happy that so many people seem to really like this series as much as I do.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: stalking, predatory behaviour, slightly angsty, profanity, someone who does NOT drink their 'respect women' juice

"Awh, come on, Sweetheart." Your coworker slipped into the elevator with you at the last second despite your desperate attempt to escape him at the end of the day. "Just one drink and then I'll never ask again."

You clenched your fist by your side on the opposite side of him so he wouldn't see. Mustering all of your strength, you forced a fake smile. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got plans with my boyfriend."

You had been dropping these not-so-subtle hints that you absolutely were not interested for months on end by now, but your coworker was either completely blinded by his persistence or was willingly ignoring them in favour of achieving his goal.

At first, when you had transferred to his floor at the company building, he had come across as nothing more than a kind mentor offering to show you the ropes. But then, bit by bit, he got pushier. 'Get to know your coworkers' dinners soon turned to just the two of you alone at a bar, which quickly turned into a situation that you found uncomfortable and ever since then, you had turned down all of his advances.

In the beginning, you had tried to make your excuses believable and turn him down nicely since he was above you in the company, but as the weeks passed and he still didn't seem to get the message, your responses got shorter and less believable. Now he was asking you out pretty much every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes he would even follow you to your car to make sure you were going home just like you said you were.

You weren't sure when it had happened, exactly, but things had gone from annoying to anxiety-inducing seemingly overnight and you had no idea what to do about it.

"You always mention this 'boyfriend' of yours," he used air quotes to make it clear that he didn't believe you, "but I've never seen him. Sure you aren't lying just to get me to go away?"

You chuckled nervously, hoping to come up with a quick answer to satisfy him for the night so that he wouldn't feel the need to tail you to your car. "No, of course not. He just has a busy work schedule as well. You know how it is."

He eyed you sternly, his gaze almost piercing. "Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight."

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the main floor of the building, he gave a wave and exited before you and headed for the front doors. Slowly, you followed him out, and as soon as you saw him disappear into the darkness of the night, you exhaled shakily and took a moment to regain your composure.

You honestly didn't know how you managed to seem so calm and collected around him on the daily considering your heart always pounded ruthlessly against your rib cage whenever you saw him.

Once you were fully composed again, you made your way to your car as fast as possible and drove back home, knowing that seeing Joe and Cherry would immediately make you feel better; not that they knew their presence was something you relied on at the end of the day because you refused to tell them.

At first, you kept it to yourself because it seemed harmless and you didn't want them to overreact and blow up at nothing, but then, as it got worse, it just seemed like the time to tell them had passed. And the last thing you wanted to do was worry them when they both already had exhausting work lives as well.

You simply didn't want to be a burden. You were sure they dealt with annoying coworkers as well and they didn't feel the need to bother you with those stupid little problems, so you wouldn't either.

Walking through the front door of your shared apartment, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the sight of Cherry at his desk and Joe sitting on the couch with the television playing some show on low volume. 

“I’m home,” you announced with a weary, but genuine, smile on your face. Before either of your boyfriends could utter a response, you had kicked off your shoes, made your way over to the couch, and curled up next to Joe with your face buried in his neck. His hair was wet, indicating he had just gotten out of the shower, and the smell of his shampoo and body wash calmed you instantly.

“Hey.” Joe wrapped an arm around you as he shared a quizzical look with Cherry. Usually, you would get changed, shower, and eat something before even thinking about relaxing for the night. “Everything okay?”

Realizing that you had basically announced that everything was not, in fact, okay with your unusual actions, you froze for a second. You contemplated just coming clean about everything right then and there, but before you could make a decision, the words “I’m fine” were spilling from your mouth.

“Just a long and exhausting day at work,” you followed up your lie with some details, not they they were technically false as it had been a long and exhausting day . . . just not for the reasons they thought. “I’ve been thinking about coming home to you two ever since my alarm went off this morning. Just one of those days.”

The sweet smiles that dawned Joe’s and Cherry’s faces proved that they believed you. “You hungry?” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “I brought home some leftovers from work again.”

Your eyes lit up and Joe chuckled. “Really?” You found yourself forgetting about your troubles in the blink of an eye. 

“Really really.” Joe nodded. “I can heat some up for you if you want to shower and get changed.”

Pulling a dramatically emotional face, you faked a sniffle. “You’re the best, you know that?” You planted a big kiss to his lips before heading for the bedroom and stopping in the doorway. “You’re the best too, Kaoru,” you added for good measure so your other boyfriend didn’t feel left out before vanishing into the bedroom. 

You heard Cherry scoff amusingly in the background, but by then you were in too good of a mood to throw something snarky back at him and were determined to enjoy the moment because you knew that this good feeling would disappear as soon as you started work again in the morning. 

But for now, you could enjoy the comforts of your home and the two people you loved most in the world.

                                              ━━━━━━━━

As you finished your work for the day and got ready to head home, overjoyed that it was the last night you would have to work overtime for a while, you were surprised that you had managed to get through the day with little interaction or pestering from your coworker.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself or anything, but for a brief moment the thought that he had finally given up crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you scanned the office for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, you gathered your things and made a bee-line for the elevator.

For once, you had managed to get through an entire day without being cornered and asked out for the millionth time. 

As the elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby, you spotted two familiar faces waiting for you at the front doors and you felt your heart swell with excitement. You had expected both your boyfriends to be busy tonight with work, the same as you were, so seeing them both standing there, waiting for you with flowers in hand, was a welcomed surprised.

Thinking that today was actually a good day for once, you rose your hand to wave with a grin on your face, a feeling of freedom and joy spreading through you  . . . that was until you felt a hand clasp down on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Immediately, your good mood had vanished.

Slowly, you lowered your hand—your smile fading in the process—and turned around to face your coworker. 

“Thought you could get away without me noticing?” His grin was wide and toothy, like a predator showing off its fangs to prove how powerful it was. He didn’t pay any mind to Joe or Cherry, which meant that he either didn’t know they were there for you or didn’t care. 

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You gestured over to your boyfriends, hoping that the realization that your significant other was real would finally be enough to scare him off. “I’ve got plans.”

He glanced Joe and Cherry’s way briefly, but it did nothing to deter him. “Oh, so you do actually have a boyfriend. Which one is he?”

You swallowed hard. Usually, explaining the whole polyamory thing was too time-consuming so you told people you had a boyfriend and left it at that. “It’s, well . . . um . . .”

Before you were forced to answer, Joe and Cherry had noticed your discomfort from across the lobby and started making their way over. The look in Joe’s eyes gave away that he was none too pleased that your male coworker still had his hand on your shoulder. 

“This must be one of your coworkers,” Cherry was the first to speak, extending his hand politely to your coworker. “Nice to meet you.”

Your coworker used his free hand to shake Cherry’s while Joe just grunted in disapproval. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation without causing a scene, you tried to shift closer to Joe but were stopped by your coworker’s hand clamping down harder on your shoulder. 

“We’re the boyfriends.” Joe’s grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was holding as he reached out, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you away from your coworker and toward him. 

“Boyfriends? As in plural?” Your coworker tilted his head at you quizzically. “You never told me you had two boyfriends.”

“I never-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“I’m a little surprised you’re real,” your coworker said, somehow seemingly completely unfazed. “I was seriously beginning to believe she was making you up to avoid going out with me.”

You shook your head and chuckled nervously, something you found yourself doing around him a lot in order to keep the mood light. “I would never lie to you. It’s just busy schedules is all, like I said yesterday.”

“Going out with you?” Cherry cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman tells you she has a boyfriend and you still insist on asking her out?”

Your coworker just laughed. “Well we used to go out all the time when she first switched departments. I thought she was just playing hard to get but I guess not.”

Both Joe and Cherry turned to you, glimmers of confusion in their eyes. “You used to go out?” Joe asked, concerned that they had just found out you had been cheating on them. 

“No!” you blurted out. “Well, I mean, yes, but it was as a group of coworkers. Never just the two of us.”

“Never?” your coworker repeated. “What about those times at the bar? Did you seriously forget? That hurts my feelings, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush red and your heart begin to pound. Suddenly, you had been backed into a corner by your past self’s naive kindness. “I didn’t know it was going to be just the two of us until I showed up,” you stated quietly. “You lied to me to get me to go.”

“Is that true?” Joe placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head to get you to look him in the eyes. You could tell he wasn’t accusing you of anything, only looking for answers.

You nodded, finally feeling brave enough to tell the truth with your boyfriends by your side. “Once I realized he was after something more, I started turning down his propositions. Then he started asking me every day . . . then he started following me to my car,” you whispered the last part, worried about what might happen if your coworker heard you say that part. “Can we please leave now?”

Noticing that your hands were shaking and your bottom lip was quivering, Joe instantly knew that you were telling the truth; no one would ever be so terrified to tell a lie like this. “Yes, of course, we can leave now.” He held you closer. “Whatever you want.”

“So you’re gonna lie and make me look like the bad guy here?” your coworker huffed, truly playing the victim card to the fullest. “I’m the asshole because I wanted to buy you a few drinks and get to know you better?”

“No, you’re the asshole for continuing to pursue her when she clearly told you no,” Cherry snapped, now just as angry as Joe was, maybe even more. “She’s kind and, because of that, probably turned you down nicely—too nicely—and you took advantage of that . . . you fucking prick.”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. Usually, Cherry was the one to remain calm in stressful or aggravating situations, but apparently not this time. You rarely heard him curse or snap, let alone at someone he met for the first time five minutes ago. 

Reaching out, you grabbed hold of Cherry’s hand and squeezed lightly to catch his attention. “I really think we should leave now,” you told him. 

Drawing in a deep breath and collecting himself, Cherry agreed. “Yes, you’re right, we should. We have dinner plans and it would be a waste to miss them on account of this asshole.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Your coworker finally seemed to give in, but not without hurling a few insults your way first, of course. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time on someone like you anyway. What, two boyfriends is perfectly fine but three is crossing a line? Give me a fucking break. Slut.”

You saw the rage bubbling up in both Joe and Cherry, but before they had the chance to do anything about it, your coworker had turned his nose up at the three of you, pushed his way past, and exited the building. 

As soon as he was completely out of sight, they both turned to you and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes; not necessarily because you were sad or angry, but because you were so relieved that the truth had finally come out and your coworker had finally been dealt with. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through gentle sobs, trying to calm down all the while. “I should have told you two about him when it all first started but I just didn’t want to burden you two with an issue that seemed so . . . so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Joe pulled you in for an almost bone-crushing hug. “You said he was following you to your car. That’s not stupid. You must have been so scared.”

“You should have told us,” Cherry agreed. “Now that I know you were dealing with that all by yourself for months, it makes me feel like a bad boyfriend. I should have picked up on the signs, like when you came home completely drained last night. I wish we could have helped you sooner.”

Wiping away your tears, you drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for coming tonight and for telling him off. I just hope he doesn’t pull anything at work tomorrow . . . he is technically my superior.”

“If he tries anything, and I mean anything, you tell us right away. Okay?” Joe insisted. “From now on, no more secrets because you want to protect us or don’t want to burden us. Your problems are our problems.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. It’s our job to keep you safe and be there for you.” Cherry kissed your cheek softly. “Now, I’m starving so let’s go eat, yeah?”

Suddenly, you remembered just how hungry you were. “Yes, dinner sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, these are for you.” Joe handed you the bouquet of flowers—now with slightly smushed stems from his previous anger—that he had brought. 

“They are beautiful.” You took them happily and gave them a smell, the floral scent bringing your nerves down a little. “You two seriously are the best, you know that?”

“We know.”

#sk8 the infinity #lostinthewiind #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #sakurayashiki karou #nanjo kojiro #reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #slight angst #sk8 #polyamorous relationship with cherry and joe #polyamorous #polyamory

[five-rivers]

All These Scattered Gems

For Dannymay 2021 Day 4: Stars

.

“They can’t be real stars,” insisted Maddie, her voice tinny and static in Danny’s ear.

He paused, grimacing, and adjusted the frequency again. Something must have gotten knocked loose inside the Fenton Phones in the last fight he got into. “I didn’t say that was what they were,” he said, “I was just telling you what they look like. And they look like stars.”

Danny did tend to consider himself a bit of an expert when it came to whether or not something looked like a star. Astronomy was a special interest of his, after all.

(Despite the best efforts of both his parents and the doctors of the Far Frozen, efforts to decide whether or not he had a true, ghostly Obsession had been inconclusive. Danny was okay with that if he was being honest. Which he usually wasn’t.)

“Hm,” said Maddie. “That isn’t coming across very well in the video.”

“Mads, our video is half static that far from the portal.”

Maddie sighed. “Make sure you take pictures, sweetie.”

“I remember,” said Danny, who had forgotten. “The sky looks darker over there, too. It almost looks like real night. I wonder if someone did it on purpose?”

When Danny had first come clean to his parents about being half-ghost, he hadn’t really had any expectations that it would change his probable future. Which he had predicted to consist of a series of depressing, minimum wage jobs that he would keep losing due to ghost hunting.

His parents had something to say about that however, and although Danny had never really wanted to inherit Fentonworks or ghost hunting as a profession (ironic, he knew) he did like the exploration and science parts. Quite a bit, actually. And since he’d never be able to become an astronaut… Well. This was pretty good, too.

Especially since he was getting paid.

(All the extra equipment he had to bring with him to make forays into the Zone ‘experimentally useful’ was a bit of a drag, though. Literally, sometimes. The stuff was heavy.)

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m going to get closer.”

The lights ahead of him really were starlike… but they were, as expected, much closer. The nearest of them stopped being pinpricks and started looking like tiny disks after just a few minutes of determined flight.

“Danny? Sweetie? You might want to slow down a little. Those speeds are rough on our sensors.”

Danny sighed, but complied.

.

Ghost cores were weird. Really weird. At least part of the weirdness was that, most of the time, they didn’t exist in either the Ghost Zone or ‘normal’ reality, but instead were tucked away in private self-generated pocket dimensions.

Ghost bodies were formed around the entrances to those pocket dimensions and would shift to accommodate the core that generated them, but usually didn’t actually house the core. It was a safety thing, and the reason ghosts could have their entire body destroyed only to pop up a few days later, perfectly fine.

Danny’s parents had been studying the phenomenon off and on, trying to compare it to ghostly lairs, which were also pocket dimensions. Or universes. The distinction was unclear. They’d been having trouble collecting data, however, as most ghosts would not blithely give such intimate information to ghost hunters, no matter how reformed they claimed to be.

After all, ghost cores were the equivalent of a ghost’s brain. One might even say their soul.

Danny was getting off track.

All this to say that Danny really should not have been able to physically feel his core.

He braked, ‘skidding’ to a stop.

“Danny?” said Maddie, sounding concerned. “Are you alright? Our instruments picked up a power spike…”

“I’m fine,” said Danny, pressing his fingers to his chest. Whatever he had felt was gone. “Just… a weird feeling.” He looked back up at the ‘stars.’ Some of them looked like little coins, now.

“How weird?”

“Like, I could have imagined it,” said Danny. “Timing is a bit strange, though, with that power surge. This might be a ‘Fisher Kingdom’ area.”

Some places in the Ghost Zone had such a strong feeling about how things should be that anyone or anything entering them was altered to fit. Some were generated by an actual ghost, but usually those ghosts just had very specific ideas about death and ghosts that didn’t quite mesh with the Zone at large. A few gave the impression that they had been carefully constructed and then more or less abandoned. Others didn’t seem to have any intelligence behind their existence, were random, almost natural.

Generally, the effects of Fisher Kingdoms were strictly physical, the average ghost’s core being safe in its aforementioned pocket, but even with that limitation, Fisher Kingdoms could be… difficult. Dangerous.

But they were also interesting. And Danny didn’t mind. He had the Ultimate Cheat Code when it came to dealing with Fisher Kingdoms. He could just turn human and float away. No problem. (In theory, anyway. In practice… Sometimes it was more complicated than that.)

“Alright,” said Maddie. “If you feel safe doing so, keep up your approach, but slowly. We want to monitor your vitals.”

Danny kept going, if at a greatly reduced pace.

His core pulsed again, and he stopped, hissing. This time, the sensation didn’t go away.

“Danny?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just…” He took a deep breath, feeling icy pressure on his lungs. “Oh, that’s weird.”

“What happened? Are you safe?”

“I think so. I think… I think this turned off my, uh, pocket dimension thing. You know, what my core goes in.” He blinked at his feet and the tips of his fingers, which were wisping away. The glow around his chest was bright and was becoming brighter. Something started beeping in his ear.

“Danny,” said Maddie, sounding alarmed. “That’s the stability alarm. Your numbers are dropping rapidly.”

Danny looked up, back at the not-stars. “I think I know what they are, now,” he said.

“What? Danny, you have to get out of there. Whatever is happening is seriously disrupting your ability to maintain your form.”

Danny brought his hand to touch the surface of his chest, which rippled as if made of water. The surface of his suit had started showing cracks. Even so, Danny was frozen in place by a thought:

Would it be so bad, to become a star?

His rings shuddered into life around him, forcibly and painfully returning him to human form. His heart stuttered at the ball of utter cold pressed against it. Every breath he took burned.

He cursed under his breath and followed his mother’s instructions, floating away from the field of false stars as quickly as he could. Despite how his core seemed to want to pull him back.

Eventually, the pull lessened.

“I guess,” said Danny, with extreme regret, “we should put that on the list of places I shouldn’t go.”

“Already there, kiddo,” said Jack.

“Come straight back,” said Maddie. “We need to give you a check, make sure there are no lasting effects.”

“Alright,” said Danny. “I’m on my way.”

Being a star… A shining beacon in the night…

It wouldn’t have been all that great, anyway, he was sure.

(He could settle for just chasing after them.)

#danny phantom #dannymay 2021 #dannymay #dannymay 2021 day 4: stars