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sardonicallys · 3 years

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𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗻𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 | 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼

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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Jaebeom + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Corporate AU, Mature, Smut, Angst, Enemies to Lovers

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Cursing, sexual content, mentions of trauma

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: You don't like to think of the word "workaholic" as an insult, but rather as a title of prestige. Everything you have accomplished in your career has been reflected as a glimmering treasure in your trophy case that doted on your work ethic and undying tenacity to put your best effort in everything you have involved yourself in. When you're transferred to what feels just a step away from a demotion, rewritten as an opportunity to "help" the new CEO, you find yourself in a predicament when you realize he's an unbearable nuisance.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 10,072

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: This chapter took forever to write, for literally no reason at all.

[ chapter one ]

The coffee tastes like water.

What you noticed about pondering is that it somehow took all the energy from everything else and redistributed it for its own selfish purposes, in this case you were left wandering your snapshots of last night while your tongue savored liquid that was mute. You wouldn’t necessarily call your behavior appropriate but it was concocted not from pleasure, rather delivered from revenge. It was resentment that fueled your desire — sexual gratification could not fulfill this hunger — it was about power. It was about control. It was seizing back every ounce of pride you let your good for nothing chief of executive operations put out like a lousy cigarette on the ground after you had offered humility. These murky thoughts were the reason you felt no regret for your actions, but you were still subjected to the over seasoned yet tasteless rice balls and the coffee that emulated muddy rain water on your tongue. You felt like shit, essentially, but in the complexity of things you had won. Grinding the ball of your foot into the pavement as rock scraps rolled beneath your sole, you slouched into the backing of the bench while listening to the sprinklers douse the grass, quietly piecing together what you were going to do.

What were you going to do?

Now without a job from a company you bent backwards and jumped through flaming hoops for, your mind raced with the anxious reminder that you were going to have to build your way back up. Convincing yourself it wasn’t so bad because you had attempted, and succeeded, was becoming a struggle every passing second. The flood of contemplation had you wondering if you should have accepted the offers that were given to you while you were being scouted by other companies who wanted to poach you from the market. Had you known you’d be assisting a living piece of shit, you may have resisted less.

Honestly you always wanted to live simply, at least amongst the standards of society. A small one bedroom apartment in the city but not on prime real estate, a middle manager job at a branch of a main company with opportunities, a stray black kitten turned cat, and you, the whole of these extensions. You always did your best and prided your perception off these little views into the whole reflection of you, regardless of what the outcome was because in reality, you expected only this much. This was simple and humble living, and this is all you wanted. You worked hard and you minded your own business, so what kind of karma did this entail exactly?

Pushing yourself off the bench, finally grappling with the sore result of your body, you felt the weight sink to your ankles as they balanced between carrying you and keeping poised on your heels. The walk of shame carried a different meaning to you, and it was that you were unemployed for the first time since university started. Discarding the remnants of your tasteless excuse for a breakfast, you brisked through the park and back towards your neighborhood where you could finally wash yesterday down the drain and start over, perhaps through job hunting. Just a block away from your building, you practically planted into the ground at the sound of your mobile phone as it erupted in your purse. Fishing it out, you squinted at the unknown number and somehow between the second you saw it and the second you answered, you hoped it was a pleasant coincidence that maybe someone you knew was looking to hire. Or perhaps a friend of yours recommended you and someone was reaching out to see if you were interested in a new career path? Better yet, that friend opened a company and needed you on the team for a start-up. Anything, desperation chimed, anything.

Anything but the sound of Mr. Im’s voice that oozed with impatience, instead, surfaced into the canal of your ear, “Why aren’t you in office?”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, completely in disillusion to the point where you pulled the phone away from you just to check if you were starting to hear things all on your own. After a brief pause, you curtly responded, “…Because I was terminated?”

There’s silence before a sarcastic laugh sparked from the receiver, “I don’t have any official documentation of that, you need to work until we find a replacement.”

A long pause, “Or did you not know that.”

The last comment was made to be a complete fucking asshole, you knew he was provoking you. Inhaling deeply, assuring not to allow the noise of frustration earn the exact reaction he was seeking, Mr. Im spoke once more, “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

And the line cut off.

Sometimes, you had a habit of taking too shallow breaths and you spoke to a few doctors to which they deliberated that you may have had some form of anxiety that lie dormant between the physiology of your being. Mostly because during these questionnaires, you had a bit of trouble answering honestly and it wasn't that you weren't aware of what you were doing, but you couldn't bring yourself to say the words that were on your mind. Instead you vaguely referred to them, like a directory more than an explanation. You assume the psychiatrist you met with saw through this, but knew how to communicate without causing a catalyst to exacerbate the symptoms. Besides, it wasn't abundant enough for medication but it wasn't quiet enough for you to go through your day to day without feeling a stammering worry that plagued every atom of your body. You remembered reading some time ago that there was a man who had some disease — common or not — and he committed to these breathing exercises that extended his life expectancy tenfold. That was what you wanted, right now in this moment, just to breathe enough to survive this because you were not going to crumble here, not when you were going to prove a point.

Turning on your heel, you started charging back towards the main street only to halt to a stop. But why should you return? It was already decided, just moments ago, to start anew. Right? You had made your resolution the second you slipped your clothes back on and disappeared from the room you shared with Mr. Im that you were going to rebuild this but better. There was no reason to go back to that fucking office to suffer the berating existence that it was to be a secretary of someone who had very little respect for you. There just wasn't. You barely realized how tensed your shoulders were until you exhaled deeply, feeling your muscles release your bones.

I'm going home.

But you can't seem to move because somewhere in the depths of your overthinking, riddled with holes and passages that descended down to nowhere, labyrinths of darkness that encased your every motive you wondered, what if he screws your entire career? What if, being a heavy hand in your industry, he crushes every possible pathway for you and you're left with nothing? Because he knew how much this whole thing meant to you, if it wasn't enough that you were willing to miserably put up with his shit the day before, then at least your work record could prove that much. The worry filled your being, as if someone was pouring water and it was already at your knees. Before you know it, you feel the water climb up your throat and now you're sprinting through the subway as you bite back your tears of frustration because you had never, not once felt that you lacked this much control in your entire life.

Entering the building, the embarrassment crashed into you like a flood, your head hung as you balled your fists up, creating crescents of your nails into your palms, wearing the same navy chiffon dress that adorned you the day before. The several years of pride that you built on your appearance, work ethic, and upstanding quality were crashing down onto you in just a matter of days and you could barely bring yourself to take the elevator up to your floor, the brief glances of your peers and coworkers feeling as if you were scrutinized — regardless if they had noticed your disheveled appearance or not. You're absolutely disgusted as you dropped your things at your desk, no time to even peer at yourself in a mirror, and threw Mr. Im's door open, not bothering to knock.

"Great, you're on time," he doesn't even bother to look up, but you're not surprised. Parting your lips to speak, he finally lifted his head and you could feel his revolting gaze scan over your appearance, causing you to feel nauseated and hold your speech which allowed him to interject first, "You didn't even bother to change?"

There were no words that you could find, or at least, no single formed sentence to use that could have described the frustration that coursed through every vein in your body. Your breathing turned shallow again, reflecting on how your superior had cleaned up — hair slicked back and a freshly dry cleaned suit, the collar of his shirt starched and ironed perfectly to press against his neck. The piercing and judgmental gaze gripped your lungs, forcing you to keep your composure, "...I didn't have time this morning. I had assumed—"

"Your affairs outside of the office aren't my business," sneering your name, you could see half a smirk appear on his lips as he continued, "but it seems you must have had a long night if you were irresponsible enough to show up...Like this."

Leaning back in his chair, you have to program your nerves not to let your jaw drop from his comment. The back of your neck warmed instantly, creating a trail to a migraine as you repeated to yourself breathe breathe breathe because you could feel your throat closing up quicker now.

"My apologies," through gritted teeth, you managed to surface a cruel smile, "I promise it won't happen again."

Rather than wait for his direction, you turned and slammed the door behind you before striding towards your desk, dropping your weight into your chair while quietly gasping for air. I shouldn't have come back, head tilted back as you attempted to ease into steady breathing. As childish as it was, you wanted to blame the whole of this on Jaebeom, every last fucking bit of it. But you can't and perhaps that's what created even more friction, because you knew that this wasn't his fault, at least not entirely. You created this situation yourself, and had you not selfishly decided to seek revenge for something as egotistic as pride, perhaps you could have walked away with your hands clean. This worked in tandem with the arrogance of your boss, of course, but he didn't do anything that was outside of your expectations. You earned this and so you attempted to recenter yourself by focusing entirely on work. There would be no time for your wandering thoughts and regrets, so long as you did what you did best and that was to work. Surprisingly, this is successful, and you managed through most of the day without feeling the combustion of frustration you had that morning, even avoiding Mr. Im as he had several clients to see to that day — all of which did not line up with your schedule, to your relief.

Just as the last two hours of your work day were resolving, greeting you every hour closer to your escape, you suddenly saw one of the sales associates frantically dart towards your desk with a heavy binder in her hands. It's a long explanation you can barely fathom through her shaky sobs, but you managed to piece together that a backorder she had placed had an exponential amount of quantity in contrast to the original form and she wasn't sure where to redistribute it. Apparently she heard you were a savior for these sort of situations at the branch, and now you were her only hope. Perhaps you pitied her tear stained face, and how could you possibly let her be fed to Mr. Im after he put you through the wringer this morning? Assuring her you would fix the mistake, you sent her home and began revising her work. Overtime wasn't new to you, but you hadn't thought this would to be a commitment as someone who was only an assistant. In some ways, you were relieved you were still seen as helpful, and that was honestly the ego boost you needed.

The office was empty, Mr. Im long gone due to some client meeting, the only sounds were your nails clacking away on the keyboard and the hum of the air conditioner every so often to keep the printing room cool. Occasionally, you'd hear the ice maker in the break room, but otherwise you were savoring the paradise of peace you were draped in while you began sorting the order. The work wasn't difficult but tedious, as you sent several notices to the global order management team, making them aware of certain changes you needed to override and why it was so sudden. The familiarity of work offered a sense of comfort to you, so much so, you didn't realize the figure hovering near your desk, "You're still here?"

The recognizable tone rekindled nausea as you focused on your screen, not bothering to look at the owner of the voice, "Yes, why are you here?"

"A meeting got moved and I thought I'd work on something..." the tone is flat and suddenly your vision blurs, fingers cold and unmoving, wondering why he's still looming before he suddenly grabbed the bottom mount of one of your monitors, turning it towards him. The silence indicated to you that he's probably reading, and you prepared yourself to hear him blast you with his uninvited criticism.

"...You know for someone who was at your managerial level, but unable to delegate, it's no wonder why you're a secretary now huh?"

"Excuse me?" Turning your head to look at him for the first time, you felt your blood pressure spike, "You do know you're in charge of overseeing the sales associates right?"

"It's not my job to clean up someone else's blatant mistakes, and it isn't yours either," turning the monitor back, he spoke his words firmly, "But someone who can't create a boundary on what their job title is..."

Sucking in a breath between his teeth, he folded his arms across his chest, "Certainly will do the work for them, huh?"

"Maybe, if you knew how to do your job better, they could follow," folding your fingers together, you leaned across the table, offering a sickeningly saccharine grin, "That way there wouldn't be any mistakes to clean up, don't you think, Mr. Im? You are only as strong as your weakest link."

"That's why you have to learn to strengthen those links, not baby them and do their damn work for them," leering at you, head tipped down, you have no other comments to make and there isn't time for it, because Mr. Im took his leave almost immediately after. It takes everything in you not to throw the monitors out the window behind you, use the computer itself to break through Mr. Im's door to trash his office, light the chairs and shelves lining the walls as a starter for a fire that would burn the building to a crisp. It takes everything in you not to boil over and cry every tear you had been holding in all fucking day. You pace back up to speed while continuing your work, still struggling to breathe.

A mug is delivered onto your desk by the devil's spawn, and you can't help but offer only disgust as he sips his own coffee. You dream a hundred different ways to splash the hot beverage at him as he lies in waiting, you assume, for you to take a sip, "Please tell me you put poison in it."

"You really think too highly of me."

"Trust me, I don't," rolling your eyes, you scanned through the worksheet, scrolling down towards a row in question.

"Drink it."

"No."

"Drink it and don't show up looking like you did again this morning."

Glaring at him, you begrudgingly took a sip before slamming the mug back down on the desk, holding your eye contact. If he was anyone else, you wouldn't have been so aggressive, stubborn. You would have certainly expressed your gratitude, but because he wasn't anyone else, you would never let him hear a single thank you for the rest of your life. It's close to midnight when you finish, and you depart without saying anything, letting the blur of catching the last train and of how you get home consume you through the sticky night air. You can't even recall a hint of how you washed up and got into bed, so drained you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

Water is the most pure and present representation of neutrality, a concoction that occurs only as a reaction. Though many physicists would argue otherwise, its state is a result more than a stable initiator. The temperature of water is adjusted due to exposure of heat, an outside conductor, its movements are recorded through the tectonic plates that grapple against one another hidden beneath the earth’s surface, another outside conductor. With the ability to control small increments in the human hand, it can also be a significant abundance and in mass amounts, water could flood whole cities, countries. Water brought life just as easily as it swept it away and as you float in an endless sea that had no horizon, blended to reflect the ash sky above, you wonder just how much of this is a reaction to you.

Though you were never particularly good at swimming, you could at least float. Fingers parted while exploring the viscous space, head bobbing just above the surface, the water that filled your ears and kept you recording your breathing in silence, soft licks of waves creeping beneath your inhales. Your body must have acclimated to the temperature since there was no particular differentiation when it came to heat and chill. Dipping down as you closed your eyes, you held your breath but soon realized while being under just slightly and seemingly too long, there was no reason to be doing so. Soft dancing bubbles escaped your nostrils as you looked up to see the dim light cadence against the reflective surface, glimmering for your return.

Instead, the urge to sink into the dark abyss intrigued you while you curled up and felt your weightlessness create some form of mass that drifted your being down. Lulling your eyes closed, the shadow depths began to creep over your skin as the gentle shifts in the water turned and rocked you at its will. Each breath you drank let no salt touch your tongue as you listlessly floated through limbo, no particular attention towards anything yet all things, all at once. Opening your eyes once more just to observe how far you fell, now in utter darkness. A deeper smudge of obsidian seemed to cloak your vision the deeper you descended, something stained the water, and what was once faulty oxygen in your lungs surged as you observed the surface growing closer before you broke through the ceiling. Gasping suddenly as the flesh of a palm cradled you in its confines, you were horrified to watch as the fingerprints began to unravel, skin coiling and peeling back. The nails decayed in slivers and crumbled into the water, ribbons of the epidermis effortlessly withering away as the imagery instilled panic — not because you would revert to sinking once it had completely peeled apart but the rotting flesh itself was enough. Ready to abandon ship, you felt your ankles locked in place as the vibrant crimson began crackling in desperation, forming vertices through the bone structure before dying the boards of a small paddle boat to carry you in. It happened so rapidly, vividly, your unease became a beacon of confusion once more as the vessel gently turned in a counter clockwise motion.

Suddenly, you're shivering. You weren't the least bit cold earlier, but between then and now, there's a draft. Craning your head back to peer up at the sky for clues, you notice not even a change in the cloud's structure has budged. It's as if air had no presidence here, not a requirement for you and certainly not present. Left without an oar, you clenched your teeth and leaned over the edge of the boat before scooping water towards the direction the head of the boat was pointed in an effort to escape. Hands cupping the frigid liquid, as if freshly melted ice had made its home in your hands, you continued to part your way before seeing a dark object in the distance. It swayed heavily and must have had some weight to it, creating its own ripples that licked at the bottom of your boat. Flicking the water off your hands as best you could, you squinted while shielding your fingers around your eyes as the vessel drifted closer. It's sinking now, whatever was peeking at the surface began bobbing lower and lower, circumscribed by the buoyant surface of the sea as it swallowed up the mass. When it finally broke the pendulum swing, it sunk and the fibers of protein that warped as the clear reflection finally imprinted on your gaze had you fully forming the inference.

It was Jaebeom, and he was sinking.

Humans like to think — in a hopeful sense — that we could independently peruse this lifetime without a need for others. It's the selfish and human thing to do. But in reality, we all pour from our cup, to another's cup, to another's cup, and to another's cup. We pour a little of our responsibility, our support, the love we share, our sanctity, and humanity all in different people's cups whether we like to acknowledge that or not. In a way, no matter how selfish an individual is, there is somehow a rift created from them that inherently has helped someone else, and that's the beginning and ending of it all. Because of this human response to how we accept the traumas that we experience through others, it really is no surprise that you didn't hesitate for a moment as you stood at the edge of the boat and screamed his name.

Im Jaebeom.

There's no sound. Gently reaching your frozen fingers around your neck, you amplified with what you could, kicking your diaphragm up as you felt your throat quiver in desperation. Still no sound. Panicked, you plunge into the water on a whim, swimming with what clumsy form you could remember — what your body could remember — as your fingers grasped through the intangible material with haste. Every time you reached to propel yourself forward, you realized that the image of Jaebeom would crystalize and somehow turn into fragments before resorting into one whole piece. At first, you assumed it was the water that was claiming your vision, but it wasn't, it was as if his entire existence was shifting before you. With each paddle, his physical being was disintegrating. As you grew closer, seeing the unconscious body drift lower and faster, you reached forward in an attempt to grab him as your mouth opened and struggled to claim any kind of volume you possibly could.

But somehow every time your fingertips drew forward, he was reeled backwards just as far. Kicking your feet faster, harder, aggressively attempting to bring yourself closer, you continued to desperately shout into the abyss, no water and certainly no sound departing or returning. A shadow from above began to cloak over as you watched the onyx shade creep up from behind the descending form in front of you, screaming even more frantically now.

Wake up! Wake up!

Every nerve in your body jolted forward as you sprung from your mattress, awoken by the perilous screeching of your own voice before desperately gasping for air. It was just a dream, but that doesn't comfort you as you felt an overwhelming chill bite at your skin while your alarm ripped through your bedroom walls.

Were you appreciative that you were still employed? Sure. Were you desperately looking for a way out? Absolutely. Wanting nothing more than to escape this reality you had little to no control of, you decided on your commute that you would create a deadline for yourself that would shape the rest of your time as Mr. Im’s assistant. That is, if he didn’t throw some fit and cut your contract short. Though confident in your work and abilities, on the off chance you could not make your way out, you would leave when the allotted time was up. It was a way for you to look forward to something, anything. Settling in your chair as your rolled it towards your desk, one of the sales managers strutted towards you, her elated but professional grin painted on her lips. Though you couldn't recall her name, how could you forget the most gorgeous employee at the main office? A stunning beauty, you were half surprised when you were introduced and told that she was responsible for many of the large trades and shipments that were from overseas; she looked more like an actress or movie star than another one of the pencil pushers here, like yourself. Residing with the top numbers for countless months, she was easily one of the top sales managers after her training period.

Resounding your title and last name formally, she gently placed a hand on your desk as your gaze followed her beautifully glazed nails up her neatly ironed dress, engaging in her glance finally as she spoke, "Is Mr. Im free today? I would like to discuss something with him."

Typically, you recited — like some kind of voicemail message — that he would be unable to take any appointments and you'd have him take a look at whatever was the subject of said request when he was free and return the documents or inquiries after the fact. This was, of course, full of shit and he really just didn't want to meet with anyone and especially not a woman one on one. After what happened the other day, you couldn't really blame him. But you could blame him for the past few hellish days where you listened to his condescending tone beat into your skull and insult any sort of work you did that didn't follow his organization — which you realized was a lot more picky than you initially suspected. With a saccharine grin, you beamed at her, "I am sure I can find some time for you. What did you want to discuss and when would you like me to pen you in?"

The expression that plagued her every feature was priceless, absolutely appalled that it was that simple because in the past, you were sure whoever was the makeshift scheduler refused to have anyone meet the CEO without obstacle and challenge. Leaning into your desk, a patient and friendly smile masquerading your expression, you tilted your head as she stuttered through her words, something you never imagine you'd witness, "...It's just some numbers with a new brand we're working with, just to double check."

The end of her sentence faded into the air similarly to how her tone wafted away, an almost sheepish grin now forming on her lips. It was made clear that she may have had a crush on your boss, how funny. This would make for an interesting meeting, you began jotting down buzzwords that held seemingly more importance than what she was spouting about. Nodding vaguely while she spoke, you peered up at her, "He's free in an hour, if you're available, I can have you meet with him then?"

With that, she fervently thanked you before departing back to her desk. What could you say? You told Mr. Im you were good at you job, which included but wasn't limited to, helping him grow and supporting him. If that meant you were going to help him through his phobia — or condition? Whatever it was — why wouldn't that be considered growth and support? Chuckling to yourself, you mentally began the countdown to your most exciting encounter of the day.

Or so you thought.

Somehow — and you had a feeling that the sales manager must have let that elation loosen her lips — you had a ton of inquiries from every female identifying human in the building to see Mr. Im. What a surprise. You let them come in and deliver him tea, host meetings with him in person and not over e-mail or some poorly streamed video, bring his mail to him personally, and even do their presentations in his office. The rest of his week was fully booked with more or less, mundane and useless appointments with the women of the office who wanted to court him. The current quarter was always notoriously slow, so it's not like you were sabotaging anything of importance. Rather, you filled his time with your very own unpaid therapy and for that, he should be thankful.

By the end of the week, you could tell he was on his last leg, his expression depleted of energy and yet somehow it roused with rage and frustration you knew was targeted at you. Feigning innocence, you went by each day carefully avoiding him in spaces where he could scold your behavior, even going as far as having your lunch out in the courtyard. You were as close to paradise in hell as you possibly could have experienced, as if you had begrudgingly crawled through a desert — famished and dehydrated — and somehow the mirage in the distance had fabricated into a tangible scenery, why hadn't you decided to floor him earlier? Forget fucking him, this was a hundred, no ten hundred, times more satisfying.

Honestly, you expected him to call you into his office at some point, though you were surprised how patient he seemed since he picked Friday and right before you were about to clock out. This may have been his own oversight though, based on the fact that he knew he'd be dipping right into your weekend. Just to add to your misery, why would he not eat up your time?

"Are you insane?"

"...According to my health records, no, not clinically," pausing, you let your eyes wander a bit as you hummed, creating an illusion as if you were thinking through something. Scoffing in response, palm resting at the edge of his desk, you watched as his fingers curled around the margin. Gripping the furniture, you wondered just how agonizing his week had been while his knuckles surfaced an alabaster tone that was wreathed by a rush of blood beneath his skin. Honestly, you only complied to the last minute meeting just to have him relive his entire week through the festering wound you created, "You have got to be fucking crazy."

"Well you aren't a doctor, are you? So what do you know?"

He shot you a look as you smiled at him sarcastically.

"I didn't tell you all of that in confidence, but I didn't think you'd act smart with me," wedging his lip between his teeth in frustration, he finally released the desk as you barked out a laugh. It's the first time either of you hear this curdling trill, and it's rather frightening because you never once imagined that you'd be laughing in the presence of Mr. Im and he certainly never thought he'd be hearing it either.

“...You know, for someone who’s got some kind of issue around women, you seem to know how to fuck them,” lulling your head languidly to the side, you eyes traced over the features on his face as they contorted into a strange expression, “…I said I didn’t know how to interact with them, not that I didn’t know how to have sex with them.”

“All the more reason you should thank me for helping you,” shrugging your shoulders, a smile graced your lips, implying directly that you did him a favor. Which he obviously did not consider. Exhaling a halfhearted laugh, one that does not fill its full resonance, he grit his teeth as he spoke, “Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“Do you have any idea how stupid it sounds that you know how to have sex with women but not talk to them?”

Silence. Because it was stupid.

"...It makes a lot more sense than you imposing your so called help onto me," folding his arms over his chest, he narrowed his eyes while glaring at you, your smile never leaving your lips. You learned, in a matter of days, your actions held more weight than your words. It started on the very first day and his impression of your preparation, it was as if he complimented you when he arrived at expressionless silence. And it also didn't help that the language you both used seemed to be littered with spite alone. It was how you adjusted his schedules so he wouldn't constantly be parked at his desk for twelve to sixteen hours a day, or how you knew that he liked to stand on the right side of the elevator when you accompanied him to meetings. Even how you arranged his pens and documents in the morning to suit his left handed preference, all these little actions that created a warped way of understanding that held no flames to how you responded to him or would call him by his first name as an insult. It's how Jaebeom worked.

"I'm here to guide you Mr. Im, don't question my methods. I'm supposed to be both your support and mentor," placing a hand at your chest, fingertips gently grazing your necklace as you played victim, your sarcastic tone dug right into him as he sneered.

"You're doing a shit job at it."

"Well, I haven't been terminated yet have I? So I might not be so bad," wandering towards the bookshelf beside him, you peered at the generic picture frames that were made into partitions before glancing over your shoulder.

"Well don't get too comfortable," Leaning into his desk, arms still crossed tightly, his stoic expression reeked of rage as you mimicked his stance arrogantly. It really was all about action with him, and it had a lot to do with how well he read others. Watching his eyes roll as he exhaled yet another frustrated breath, your gaze incidentally found that his condition was acting up. Forcing your laughter back down your throat, you decided on a whim to instead, provoke him first, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You really have to ask? Don't get comfortable where you're at."

Realizing that his exasperation to your behavior must have circumvented any other physical response, the receptors in his head simply overworked by the onslaught of cortisol it must have been pumping this whole week, you discern that he had no idea he was straining in his slacks.

"...Speak for yourself," a stride forward, and you impetuously tucked a finger into his belt before pressing your other palm up against his very obvious erection. The sudden tension that plagued his face leaked down every feature until it dripped down his body, his skin instantly searing beneath your touch, "You're getting a little too comfortable, don't you think?"

The impulse trip kicked up again as you squeezed him through the fabric, guiding yourself just a breath closer. Just as you inhale, you captured the blunder of tobacco and pepper cease your senses before feeling the familiar hand grip at your hip, his thumb finding the slope of your protruding bone.

"...That's your best apology for the bullshit you did this week?"

But, that's how Jaebeom worked, his actions were always alluding to his true intentions. One curved revolution and your positions were reversed, your back creased along the edge of his desk as he trapped you with his hands along the margin. Unflinching, your pupils must have been flooded as you locked your gaze with his, fingers gliding up his silk tie before you gripped the fabric and yanked him a little closer, "That's the best you're getting from me."

In one deft motion, he hoisted you up onto the edge of his desk while dipping forward, the perimeter between the two of you filled with only anticipating breaths. It was as if you were both expecting the other to give in first, a quiet war that sparked a flint that was igniting a swarming fire that could be used to burn the other. But in some ways, you were the guilty verdict, and you took that as a victory rather than a loss. Palms settled behind you, you were ready to recline as you abruptly felt Jaebeom's hand press into your spine to restrict your movement, "As much as I'd love to watch you crack your head on the edge of one of my monitors, I'm not really in the mood to clean it up."

It half surprised you that he read your motion even before you committed to it, but he was always a little too observant anyways. Narrowing your eyes at him, the grimace on your lips deepened when he drank in your expression, his fingers gripping the plush of your cheeks as your mouth rested at the valley between his thumb and index. Crooning in the most unbearable tone you had ever heard, you rolled your eyes at him while he spoke, "Don't be a brat, aren't you supposed to be apologizing to me?"

A brat? Wrinkling your nose, you sneered at him, "Takes one to know one, huh?"

Forcing his thumb into your mouth, you were half tempted to bite down — you heard that all it took was the pressure of splitting a small baby carrot with your teeth to detach it from its joint. You decide against it belatedly as you heard sharp droplets littering the wooden surface before rolling onto the plush carpet, peering down at the lost buttons of your blouse, you groan in displeasure before using your tongue to push out his finger, "You fucking idiot, how the hell am I supposed to go home?"

"Not really my problem," shrugging, a shit eating grin plastered over his mouth, he continued his own handy work as he dove into your shoulder while reaching up to cup your breast in one of his hands.

"You're such a fucking jerk."

"Mhmm," savoring the way your jasmine infused perfume clung to the cotton of your shirt, he reached around and unclasped the hooks of your bra as the garment fell. Pushing the sleeves of your shirt away and discarding your bra along with it, you begrudgingly yanked on his tie — harder this time — as you drew him in and pressed your forehead against his, "Are you really not going to apologize for ruining one of my favorite blouses?"

"I don't remember you apologizing to me yet," and he sealed his sentence onto your mouth as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, causing you to freeze up, brows furrowing, "...I told you not to do that."

"I told you not to schedule anyone without my permission."

"It was important."

"You want me to believe you thought it was that important?"

Lies were always a struggle for you to vocalize, they just never seemed to fall from your lips without some sort of awkward contradicting action, and even now you were fumbling with the silk fabric around Jaebeom's neck as you tried to pull it loose, "It could have been."

Sliding his index finger into the knot, he pulled the loop with one swift movement before grabbing ahold of your chin to induce eye contact, "But it wasn't, was it?"

"...I wouldn't know, I wasn't the one meeting with them."

The snarl you heard blossom in his throat had you flinch, Jaebeom taking advantage of your staggered movement by gripping your wrists and bringing them to his belt as he began carefully slipping the buttons of his shirt through their respective holes, "Then I can assure you, they weren't. So no more scheduling useless appointments, right?"

The tone he used put you off, and your decision to push him came into fruition almost immediately when your thumbs simply line the leather and silver plated buckle of the logo, as if memorizing the design. You weren't so keen as to drop your hands, but they certainly were not moving at the pace of his impatience. With your jaw in his hold once more, the empty eye contact held your silence between the two of you, as he articulated with more emphasis, "Right?"

"...Right."

Rather than succumbing — much to his desire — you instead only respond to give him the answer he was seeking, because in all essences, you were the one in control. If Jaebeom wanted to create an opulent fantasy where he could overrule your decision, he certainly had not learned about you the way you had learned about him. Pressing the hook through the hoop as the plate and metal hinge knocked against one another — the only sound that seemed to be reverberating between the short and shallow breaths you both shared — the belt came apart in your hands, a touch of fabric against the suede lining whistling in your ears as you let it descend. The dull thump of the heavy buckle hit the carpet as you kicked your heels off along with it, struggling to shimmy out of your own slacks before feeling your weight lifted up. Tucking you against his sturdy frame with one arm, he effortlessly helped you out of your pants before setting you back on the desk unceremoniously, "You're slow to undress, even this time."

"...You just always know what to say, don't you?"

"I'm rather good with my mouth," the smart comment instantly invoked a heavy desire of wanting to redress yourself and leaving without a single word more.

"Are you? Jokes are only funny when you're not lying."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

You weren't sure what your initial intention was but that was a threat, you were sure of it. But a threat you were tempted to see through. There was a prominent suggestion swirling in your mind as you contemplated whether to guide it into vocalization or to simply continue and slice through his ego, perhaps gaining a more intense result if you committed to the latter. The performative action of how you uncrossed your legs decided for you, "I don't believe things until I see them."

"Since when did your apology turn into me doing you a favor?"

Mouth agape, you feigned shock, "A favor? Mr. Im, it's only a favor if it's good."

And you receive the response you were eager to be in through the presence of a brute and concise expression of competition that riddled the perimeter of his whole face. Though he seemed to be composed, you realized early on that Im Jaebeom was a competitive bastard and a few carefully plucked nuanced words were all you needed to get his ignition going. You also realize, in the few moments where you let him finally rid you of the last garment on your body, he doesn't know how to take a joke the same way he delivers them and when he flattens his tongue ardently against your bundle of nerves, you suddenly realize what they meant when they said there were 8,000 of these endings in the clitoris alone. Dipping backwards, you winced as you felt Jaebeom yank your hips closer to him, skidding along the smooth wood and his teeth sinking into your inner thigh as he spoke into your skin, "I told you to be careful your hard head might crack one of the monitors."

The only noise you could utter in response is a groan as he stiffened his tongue back against you, causing an instant slur of moans to escape your lips. As much as people liked to credit the heightened experience of alcohol induced sex, there honestly was no comparison to sobriety, not when you felt every fervent breath between the calculated way Jaebeom used his tongue against you. Even the gentle brush of his teeth against your skin caused you to squirm in absolute delight, feeling yourself drip over every lick you received. Pure euphoric noises passed your lips as your fingers threaded through his hair the moment he slid a finger into you, and even he noticed how hard you were clenched around him. The labored breaths that sunk your lungs was his indicator that you weren't going to last, unraveling at his hands as he pulled away, timed perfectly before your uncoiling. Gasping desperately, you peered at him with a dazed expression as the words fell out on their own, "Why did you stop?"

"To check if it was good."

The violent desire of having his mouth meet your fist was all that roused your thoughts as your hazy expression began to take a tumble, absolutely speechless at his childish action. But he reassured you that he was simply the same asshole, nothing quite so new, you thought he was when he cleared his throat, "...If it was, you can tell me, and I can finish the job."

"So you got a praise kink, now?"

Earning yourself a deadpanned eye roll you can't help but expel an amused laugh, watching him hover over you with an acrid and unimpressed expression, "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised...What with you being an only child, mommy and daddy showering you in all their attention, right?"

There was a fleeting spark of something that crossed over his eyes, just for a moment, and if you had not been staring directly at him you may have missed it. It was a strange chill that emulated an emptiness you had not felt in ages, but you don't address it as he readjusted the banter back towards a boundary you had not meant to cross, realizing you may have not learned all you thought you did, "Call it whatever you want, but unless you say it, you're going to be the one dealing with your own mess."

"Mess? At least when I put my pants on, it doesn't look like I have a weapon on me."

"...So you think it's that big?"

Sucking in your lips, you held them in place with your teeth, a tight line bit down desperately when you realize your words were getting clumsier the more you spoke. Though he wouldn't be lying, you weren't willing to disclose that information with him just yet, "...You did good."

"That's it?"

"Very good," your eyes turned like a dial as you nudged your knee at him, "Are you going to let me cum now or what?"

"I don't know, it doesn't feel as convincing when you say it..." The provocation is supported by a warm growl that you recall from several nights back, a sound that easily caused a kindling and lust filled response. Typically, he spoke with a natural timbre and tone that even the occasions when he cleared his throat to speak during presentations caused your mind to stray and wander far from your reality. You let him win the round, "Could you please? You were right, your mouth is not just for talking shit."

You couldn't help the latter, honestly. But instead of taking offense he bellowed a laugh of disbelief, "Are you seriously begging and insulting me in the same breath?"

"Will it get you to go down on me again?"

"If it was that good, I thought you'd be more desperate."

Pride in humans was such a complex concept that molted and formed where it needed to, and it found a home between your legs at this moment, your knees kissing to relieve some of the tension you had pent up inside you, "...I need you to do it again, please? It was good, and I honestly don't know if it will feel the same if I try and get myself off."

The words jumbled when you attempted to feed them back into your own ears, the sound of distance in your own voice causing confusion in the strange tone and desire that lost to your human will. But the moments you have to feel any last shred of embarrassment is dispersed as soon as you felt Jaebeom's grip on your thigh, spreading your legs once more before continuing his ministrations. Pleasure instantly washed over you as he worked his middle finger back in, lips encapsulating your swollen bundle of nerves as he worked in tandem to let you meet your peak once more. Convulsing as your abdomen tightened, your fingers card back through Jaebeom's messy hair as you gripped hard and bucked your hips forward. When he referred to how apparent your arousal was by calling it a mess he should have simply referred to you instead, your reaction was intrinsic but your movements and inherent being were falling apart before him. A final exhale and you choked out his name while a high pitched moan managed to gather and release from your tongue.

The moment you found to steady your breath is the same one that Jaebeom used to turn you over on his desk, your chest against the wood surface as he propped your knee up at the edge. Hissing as you attempted to adjust for comfort, he selfishly began pressing against your overstimulation as your arms gave out from your position, "Why are you always so impatient?!"

"Can you not comment once in a while, I let you cum already."

Your hips react differently to the way he lined his tip up and down your folds as opposed to your tone, back arching to meet his touch with wanton abandon as you shuddered when he finally entered you. If you were still in the mood to tease him, you liked to think you would have turned around and retorted some well thought out remark, but even then that could have lost to the possibility that the results would be the same. You had him inside of you recently, but somehow it felt like the first time again, the stretch sudden but coercing adrenaline in a way that blinded any initial soreness by raw pleasure. Fervent fingertips traced up your hips and finally to your waist, you plant one hand to pitch you up on the desk but the other curled around his bare wrist — if you grabbed his watch, you knew you'd leave a bruise on him with how tightly you're holding — giving it a squeeze. With no surprise or hesitation, Jaebeom took his cue and pushed his length entirely into you as you moaned.

The pace is slow for only as long as you can sneak a respiration, but his rhythm easily picked up to suit his impatience, and the string of obscenities that left your lips was growing in volume and length. Dousing the back of your neck with his breath, your sensory overload had you losing the last bit of control you had, submitting even your pleasure over to him as he thrust into you with perfect strokes, back and forth. The only focus you had left was to not cum too early and give him new ammunition to use against you, because he seemed to take pride in what he could manage to squeeze, whether that was a reaction or a way to beg him to fuck you, you now learned.

Without intention, you managed to complete his request of not commenting, simply relinquishing noises of delight and pleasure. Reaching for your neck with his free hand, he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat as you felt your skin blister from anticipation — it was sick how much he must have paid attention the first time if he noticed that you got off with how he choked you. Refusing to react, you simply pushed your hips back at the same rate he fucked you against the desk before his grip fused against your skin, pressing the column of your throat to capture your breath. You quietly thanked him for having turned you around because you weren't sure what kind of face you were making, lost in bliss the way every inch of his cock stretched you and how his rough hands were keeping the last bit of controlled ownership to himself.

Stifled moans are the last emission you can manage as you feel the quick snap of your core, completely unwound as Jaebeom crashed his hips into yours. By now, he knew exactly what you felt like when you were cumming, clenched around him and he'd be lying if he said there wasn't an insatiable desire that caused him to chase it every time. Not slowing his pace, he released your neck while pulling you closer towards him, his warm skin greeting your own while you rode out the last bit of your orgasm with soft whines, "You've cum twice and I still haven't gotten an apology."

There it was. But you don't have the energy to argue rather, you languidly reached around and draped your hand over his neck while catching your breath, peering up at him, "...I'm sorry I let all the nice and pretty girls in the company bother you this week. Don't be too mean, they just think you're cute."

Your words snuck between labored breaths as your half lidded eyes shut, your body still drowning in a post high you weren't quite sure you would come down from. There isn't any effort from you as he continued to thrust up to meet your hips, a smudged bout of laughter leaving his throat, "Never thought I'd hear you actually apologize."

"Then why'd you mention it."

"Just to mess with you."

"...You're such a fucking jerk, you know," while you mumbled, he moved his fingers that were originally inside of you against your lips, allowing you to taste what was left of when you soaked his skin and it's enough to make you want to cum against his cock again. You still hadn't figured out why he lasted so long and you decided it was because of his reverse erectile dysfunction, it had to be. When you managed to finish catching your breath, reality no longer lapsing you between a euphoric lust led fantasy, you alternated between how tightly you squeezed him with each thrust — hoping this would usher him to his end, but he doesn't react how you expect, instead his hands traveling over every inch of your skin and causing you to shudder.

It wouldn't be right to cum again, you keep telling yourself, but the way he's groping your breasts or how his fingertips were dug into your thigh was convincing you otherwise, "...I'm gonna cum."

You think the admission is at least better than not mentioning it at all, now for the third time, but you decide it's much worse once his lips pressed against your neck — just below your ear — and he whispered in a tone so gentle that the way he said it probably was what caused you to unravel rather than the way he fucked you, "Go ahead, cum."

Instant gratification was at his disposal as you leaned forward, only held in place by Jaebeom's arm around your waist as anything below your hips grew hot then numb, your toes curling in response to your body's reaction. Mentally you chant and beg for him to finish because you can assure yourself you're not going to be conscious for much longer, and though he could read others well, you started to wonder if he pretended he didn't know your intent especially when you felt his finger against your clit, "Wait!"

The yelp is instant as you shivered against him, torn between a mix of succumbing to every pleasurable desire you ever had being fulfilled or stopping to catch up with how your body’s reaction. Jaebeom, of course, ignored your request as you puddled out moans from your throat. Teeth in your shoulder, the onslaught of sensations were overwhelming every one of your receptors because it really did feel that good yet you couldn't savor any particular moment because it happened all at once.

Lost in a haze, your body felt as though it no longer belonged to you, every extremity inherently detached from the organic state and so heightened by pleasure and tension that they were simply extensions hanging from a frame. If begging could get Jaebeom to finish, you would have done it but you didn’t have the slightest idea how to coax him to cum. What was so intricate about the male physiology, anyways? Yet, through contradiction, you were the one spent over and over. The sudden rough grip on your breast forced you to hiss as the erratic tempo of Jaebeom’s thrusts offered a possibility of an end — finally — while your eyes pooled, festooning your cheeks with tears that were gifted from overstimulation.

The ragged breathing into your skin was your relief as you felt his sudden pull, but in your panic — especially from his disorganized way of spilling and leaving behind his mess — you gripped his wrist, “Just cum inside.”

“What?” A disgusted expression plagued his face as he seemed to lose his rhythm, “You really are fucking cra—”

“I’m on birth control so get over yourself and it’s gonna get on the carpet and your desk,” narrowing your eyes at him, you spoke quickly through your breathy pants. With a contorted expression, he rolled his eyes as he simply nodded, and not a breath later you could hear his painstakingly elongated growl. Shivering at the tone and how he held your hips in place, you finally released a sigh of relief before reaching over the desk to grab the tissue box near his keyboard. While his grip loosened, you secretly savored the warm and viscous feeling of how he filled you.

Watching your fingers tremor as you carried the cardboard container, you realized just how tense you must have been the entire time. Focused on gaining a proper grip back, you witnessed a flash of white as Jaebeom snatched several sheets and did the cleaning himself — much to your surprise and a tinge of embarrassment. You'd mostly expected to have done it on your own, and though this was already the second time you were allowing yourself to be completely naked and blissed out from being fucked by him, something about this action had induced some form of shyness. Gentle swipes over your skin and you listened to him discard the sheets as you whimpered while removing your knee from the desk, a heavy red mark along your thigh and your hip searing with initiated soreness.

The marks and fatigue would fade into an ephemeral glimmer, the same way your high would only last those fleeting moments more, but now in your sobriety you were left with an impression you weren't quite so sure would emulate the same transience. Several nights ago, you barely remembered how you managed to get your dress back on, how you purchased your breakfast, or even how you ended up at the park. Now, with full clarity, you were pulling on fabric over your skin with amplified sensory, listening to how every zip and clasp reattached itself in utter silence. It left your mind to wander once more, why you let this second time even ensue, better yet with your initiation. Two for two, right? You hadn't felt such a deeply mortifying realization until this moment as you awkwardly attempted to figure out how to wrap your blouse so you wouldn't be committing some form of public indecency.

How the hell were you supposed to get home?

all work, no play series masterlist

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky X fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: All fluff!

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Getting really excited about this series! If I wasn’t swamped with school, I’d have the parts out much faster! I’d love to know what you think, tags for this series are always open! <3

Links are in my masterlist!

Previously:

“Can someone tell me who that is?” You interrupted, your voice equally as low as theirs.

“That’s Bucky’s ex-fiancé” Steve tore his attention away form his friend, a somber look in his eyes, “She left him at the alter two years ago and he hasn’t seen her since.”

Heart to a Gunfight | Chapter One

“What?” You demanded, craning your neck to get a better look at Bucky and Kira conversing at the far end of the yard.

“I said she’s his ex-fiancé” Peggy repeated, a sour look on her face.

Although you had to admit that the two of them had probably made a stunning couple when they were together, it was hard to get past the look of pain - or constipation - on Bucky’s face. You had only just met him, but it was clear to everyone around that he was in no way enjoying the conversation he was having.

“I can’t believe it…”

“He wasn’t expecting it either. It completely blindsided him. If she’s here to tell him that she’s made a mistake…” Peggy chewed her bottom lip, brows furrowed, “I know exactly what I would say, but I doubt he’ll make the same call.”

You were about to ask her for more details when Kira stuck out a hand, flashing a massive rock on her finger and knocking all the words from your mouth.

“Is that her left hand?” Steve squinted, practically leaning over Peggy to get a better look.

Peggy nodded and you all watched, unable to say anything else. It was like watching a train wreck knowing everything would only get worse. And it did when a square, clean cut, doctor looking type stepped up beside Kira and wrapped an arm around her waist before extending his hand to greet Bucky. The stranger might not have looked anything like Bucky, but there was no denying that she had found a man equally as handsome. But where Bucky was all dark hair, sharp edges and chaos, the man was light, softness and calm.

“She’s going to crush him all over again.” Steve managed through his clenched jaw.

You looked from your friends to Bucky and then back again. Peggy looked like she was about to murder someone, Steve looked no calmer, and Bucky…well he looked absolutely miserable. Anyone could see it, especially the ex-fiancé and the man she had clearly brought with her to flaunt how much better her life had become.

“I’m going over there.” Steve declared.

He was about to slip away when Peggy stopped him with a hand on his arm, “You’ll only make things worse. The only way she wouldn’t have looked so smug is if he had come with a date. You going over to save him isn’t going to change that.”

Steve didn’t seem to like it, but he stayed put, searching the party around him, and refusing to admit defeat. His man was stranded and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get him out. Then his eyes zeroed in on you.

“(y/n)”

“Steve?” His name came out tentatively, wary of the crazed look in his eyes.

He raised a brow, waiting for you to catch onto his plan.

It didn’t take long, and you shook your head vigorously, unable to stop, “No. Nope. Nada. Absolutely not. I’m not getting involved!”

“Please!” Steve begged, eyes wide and hopeful, “If not for him then for me.”

You stumbled back a step, “No, I can’t! I only met the guy an hour ago and you want me to pretend to be his fiancé? No. I can’t do it. I don’t even have a ring.”

“You don’t have to be his fiancé, just his steady girlfriend,” Peggy nodded slowly, warming up to the idea, “Nothing more than a year together. It’ll be easy.”

“You too? No Peg I can’t.” You might have momentarily felt bad for the guy, but you weren’t about to get involved in something that messy. The plan was doomed to fail anyways, you could barely tolerate him.

Steve glanced urgently back at his friend, “Please.”

“No.”

He groaned, looking up to the sky in desperation. When he looked at you, the smile on his lips made your heart drop and you began to worry that he had found an answer to his problems.

“I didn’t want to do this (y/n), but I’m calling in my favour.”

You crossed your arms, taking another step back. “No.”

Steve might have been right that you owed him one, but you refused to pay him back with this. When he had gotten you out of your speeding ticket last month and you had told him you owed him one, you hadn’t meant this. This wasn’t even in the realm of possible ways to pay him back.

His lips curled even higher, “I know that speeding ticket didn’t get rid of itself. I think pretending to be his girlfriend for one night is worth the two hundred and fifty dollars you didn’t have to pay.”

With Steve staring at you like he had won this argument and Peggy shooting you her pointed Be-A-Good=Person stare, you knew you had no choice. You definitely should have stayed in the car. Instead, you glanced back to where Bucky was standing, shoulders hunched over, and noticed Kira and her fiancé gazing lovingly into each-other’s eyes. You might not have liked him very much, but even you had to admit that had to suck.

“Fine, one night,” You grumbled, “Then we’re square, Rogers.”

He nodded, practically beaming, “You get over there right now and we’re more than square.”

“Fine.”

You glared at him, making sure he knew just how little you wanted to do this, then stomped across the soft grass, glad you had decided not to wear heels.

“Wait!” Peggy whisper shouted. When you turned, she shoved two beers into your hands, “Your excuse. Now go.”

Thanking her, you took off more delicately this time, trying not to look like you were marching off to your death. You were supposed to look like you were in love. You scoffed. Yeah right. You were tempted to down the two beers to boost your courage, but you knew you weren’t a good enough liar to think of another reason as to why you had suddenly decided to show up.

A million different thoughts crossed your mind, but the one that kept coming back was that you weren’t going to be able to pull this off. How the hell were you going to convince this woman - who had almost married Bucky and therefore probably knew him as well as Peggy or even Steve - that the two of you were madly in love. He had called you a crazy lunatic the moment he had met you. If that wasn’t the furthest from love, then you didn’t know what was. Even if you could somehow convince her that you were in love with him, he had no idea why you were walking over right now. The plan was doomed, and you hadn’t even said a word yet.

When you were close enough that you could no longer back out, you decided that you were going to have to wing it. You had no other choice. It wasn’t like you could plan something this crazy anyways. All you had to do was try your best and then you were off the hook. You did that and you would no longer owe Steve.

All this because of a speeding ticket…You couldn’t help but think that maybe this was a sign from the universe telling you to drive better. Or at least slower, though you refused to ever say that little thought out loud.

Kira was saying something about how pretty summer weddings were when you interrupted, “Hey babe!”

You could barely keep yourself from cringing but somehow you managed it. The three turned around and you couldn’t decide who looked more confused. Your hopes were slim that Bucky would wipe that look off his face and catch on quick. If his snail pace while driving was any indication as to how he lived his life, this plan would tank within seconds.

Closing the remaining steps, you pressed a quick peck to his lips, hoping the speed of it would hide him stiffening under your touch. His eyes darted from to you Steve and then back before he pulled you in close, tucking you into his side. With his strong arm draped across your shoulders insouciantly, you figured whatever he had to have seen on Steve’s face had been enough to let him know to play along.

You handed him his beer and wrapped your arm around his wide waist, gazing up at him with what you hoped looked similar to the look Kira had been giving her fiancé. Really, as long as it didn’t look completely phony, you’d be fine with it.

“There’s my crazy little race car driver,” The smile he shot back seemed to be telling you to tone it down a little, but you ignored it.

Judging from the fact that he had clearly forgotten your name, he was much more of a threat to the whole operation than your exaggerated smiles.

Kira’s fiancé furrowed his brows, “You’re a race car driver?”

Bucky’s laugh exploded, making you want to cringe at how fake it sounded. Thankfully, you seemed to be the only one bothered by it.

“No, I only call her that because I’ve never seen anyone drive so crazily. I swear, every time she gets behind the wheel, I think she’s going to kill that beat-up car of hers she drives so fast.”

Instead of jabbing him in the ribs like you really - really - wanted to, you swatted his hard chest playfully, forcing to keep the smile on your face, “I wouldn’t have to drive like that if you didn’t make us late all the time.”

He looked like he was going to say something along the lines of crazy lunatic but bit his tongue and switched to a lighthearted smirk you found more than a little disarming. Even though you knew it was fake, your heart fluttered annoyingly at the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“It’s not my fault that every little thing you do seems to distract me when we’re getting ready to go somewhere.” He began to draw lazy little circles on your bicep, reminding you that rolling your eyes at his cheesy line wasn’t the right answer.

You smiled back in mock offence, “Oh, so it’s my fault then?”

“You can’t make me fall in love with you,” He drew you in a little closer, “and not expect me to lose focus sometimes.”

Despite his rocky start, you couldn’t help but be impressed with his acting skills. If you were being honest, he was pulling the team. Actually, judging by the arrogant gleam in his eyes, you weren’t a team - you were in a contest to see who could fake it best. Well, if that was the case then you refused to let him win. You could be the best fake girlfriend he had ever seen.

Pulling back a little, you tilted your head so that, if it had been real, the position would have made it much easier to kiss him. Instead, you put your hand flat on his chest, much more gently this time, and said, “You know I only distract you so that I have a good reason to drive like a crazy lunatic.”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, the corner of his lips turning up in what felt like a genuine smile this time. You grinned back to let him know that he was falling behind in your little game.

Kira cleared her throat, snapping you out of your fake love fest and you let out what you hoped sounded like an embarrassed laugh. The confused look on her face as her eyes darted between the two of you only made you lean in and snuggle a little closer. If you kept this up, not only would you no longer owe Steve, but he would owe you. Bucky’s arm slid off your shoulder and down your back until he tightened his grip around your waist in a gesture that might have been possessive if you hadn’t felt him stiffen at the sound of his ex-fiancé. Hopefully, you were the only one who felt all the easiness evaporate from his body.

“I’m sorry,” she pasted on a false smile, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You extended your hand, jumping in before Bucky could make everything worse by giving you a fake name for the night, “(y/n). It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Brad,” the fiancé grinned and motioned toward his girlfriend, “Kira.”

“So how do you know Bucky?” You asked with fake chipper, waiting to see how she would respond.

The look on Kira’s face was priceless as it flashed from smug to angry and you almost smiled. There was no way she could flaunt the fact that you now had her leftovers, with her fiancé at her side. Brad might not have known what she was doing before you got here, but you doubted he was stupid enough not to realize what was going on if she began bragging about having left Bucky at the altar.

You had managed to make everything extremely awkward for her, extremely quickly and the thought almost made you coming over here worth it if only for that. Steve never said anything about not having fun with it.

Bucky saved her from answering, coming to her rescue like you were sure he had done on multiple occasions back when they were together, “Old friends, right Kira?”

She nodded, her lips drawn in a tight line. You could tell she was bursting with the need to break your own heart by telling you how she really knew him, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her own relationship for a petty victory. Little did she know there wasn’t a bit of your heart that she could break where Bucky was concerned. When the night was over, you intended on never seeing him again if you could help it.

Without sparing her another look, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, “Didn’t you promise me there’d be food when we got here? I’m absolutely starved!”

“The food would have been out when we got here if you hadn’t driven so quickly.” He winked though you could tell his humour was a little more forced than it had been earlier.

You tamped down on the need to glare at him for continuously brining up your driving abilities and smacked him playfully once more - only a little harder than necessary. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch, instead pressed a kiss to the top of your head. When the night was over, you’d give him a real smack upside the head.

“It was so nice meeting you!” You gushed, abruptly deciding it was more than time for the conversation to end.

“Likewise,” Brad said with a smile that appeared genuine, “You guys are doing the three-legged race later, right?”

Kira shook her head, “I doubt they are. James isn’t really one for games.”

Your heart dropped. If you had thought there was a possibility of getting out of engagement party games, Kira had just sealed your fate. But maybe he wasn’t as competitive as you were. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t take the bait.

He began drawing the same little circles on your waist this time and for a moment you were fooled into thinking he wasn’t half as competitive as you were. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t be goaded into a game you hadn’t played since elementary school. You should have known better.

“With this little racer at my side there’s no way we’d miss the opportunity to play and win.” He flashed them a bright smile, “We’ll see you then.”

Bucky steered you away before you could say anything, and whispered into your hair, “They’re still watching us, so don’t have a fit until we’re far enough away.”

“I come to save your ass and that’s how you thank me?” You growled though gritted teeth.

His arm tightened around you, “My ass didn’t need saving, doll.”

“If that were true then you wouldn’t have looked like a kicked puppy before I showed up,” You stopped yourself from throwing his arm off you, “And you might not have thought your ass needed saving, soldier, but your friend did. So, take it up with him when you see him. I was just paying back a favour.”

He let out a dry laugh, “I should have known Steve would have come up with a plan this stupid. There’s no way you and I made a convincing couple.”

“The least you could say is thank you,” You snapped, “Because of Steve and I, you didn’t look quite as sad or single.”

“I say it makes us even.”

You shoved out of his hold, “Even? I didn’t owe you anything.”

“You cut me off and almost ran me off the road.” He countered, blue eyes icy.

“You’re still on that? I can’t believe you’re-”

“Look at you two, bickering like an old married couple.” Steve grinned, seeming more than a little proud, “Should be we expecting a wedding any time soon.”

“No.” You both snapped in unison.

At least you could agree on something.

“You know you’ll have to keep this up for the rest of the night, right?” Peggy pointed out sympathetically, though you could tell she was biting her cheek, trying not to laugh.

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The night was already going to be a disaster, you had known that going in, so even if it was a little worse it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Right? Plus, it had to be good karma, and you were running low. Somehow, you’d manage to get through the night if you didn’t kill Bucky first.

He glared at you, lips tight, as if he was thinking the same thing.

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #Steve Rogers #peggy carter #modern au #fanfic #fake dating #fan fiction

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imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs · 4 years

Note

Genderbend sasusaku ❤️

Ah, a classic…

Sakuramaru woke to find her out of bed and looking out the window, a half-eaten sandwich on the counter.

“Satsuki?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist, “are you alright?”

He hoped he wasn’t being too intimate. The last thing he wanted was to scare her.

Satsuki put her remaining hand over his.

“Maybe,” she said, monosyllabic as ever, “I don’t know.”

Nightmares. Guilt. Unresolved tensions. It was all part of what made Uchiha Satsuki Uchiha Satsuki.

For the years she’d spent away from the village, she had been considered a war criminal and performed actions that had only worsened her state of despair and anger while deepening the charges against her. Even now, she still went to see counselors about it.

But Satsuki wasn’t some unfixable thing to be discarded. She had friends, people who cared about her and who wanted to help her.

And it had taken every ounce of luck and debate Team 7 had to convince the council of that. Especially considering that Satsuki agreed with many of those geezers that she should be punished to the full extent of the Land of Fire’s laws.

In the end, they managed to whittle it down to probation and house arrest, in recognition of her defection from the Akatsuki and re-alignment with Konohagakure.

“I just feel…useless, I suppose.”

“Useless how?”

“Most of the people we know are on missions. And I’m stuck here.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Satsuki said, “I just…never pictured myself as a stay-at-home wife.”

Wife? No-one had discussed marriage. No-one had discussed exactly what you call a relationship with a Ninja medic and the paroled repentant war criminal he’d been in love with since preschool living in the same apartment. Yes, she sometimes tidied up and yes she did surreptitiously admire him when he came out of the bathroom in a towel.

But he did that plenty too (he hoped that didn’t make him sound like a creep).

And then there was that one time he had heard her wake up with a crying sob and rushed into her room. About five minutes of crying into his shoulder became her necking him, which had turned into hot and heavy kissing and from there, had evolved into her asking him for cunnilingus. He was still trying to figure that one out. He was just trying to comfort her, not practice sexual gratification techniques. Still, he’d done it for her (she was lonely and he’d asked her three times if she was sure before starting) and spent the night in her room.

But he couldn’t concentrate on that train of thought, since Satsuki had just lain her head back against his shoulder and he got a whiff of her hair. She’d been using his shampoo again. Not that he minded.

“I feel…” She said.

“Yes?”

“I feel useless.”

And he knew what it felt like to feel useless. The only boy of Team 7 and he was the delicate one. He’d worked hard to catch up to Satsuki and Naruko, training under the Godaime to become stronger. Applying the intelligence and diligence the academy had lauded him for to become a medic beyond reproach. Now, even the senior staff at the hospital consulted him from time to time.

“You are not useless,” Sakuramaru said, “You’re still an inspiration to me.”

“You’re only saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Catching up to you and bringing you back were some of my biggest goals. They helped me to…”

He didn’t have a term for it. Become who he was today?

“Either way,” Sakuramaru said, clearing his throat, “when you feel like this, I wish I knew what to say. I really do.”

That was a lame line and he knew it, even if he meant every word.

Satsuki smiled, a rare sight and from the way her eyes were shimmering, he could tell it was the even more rare type of Satsuki smile: the earnest kind.

“You already said it.” she said. She turned around in his embrace and kissed him. When she pulled back, he just stood there stupefied.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“For being you.” She said, giving him another kiss, this one on the cheek.

“I…I don’t understand.”

Satsuki bit her lip and Sakuramaru swallowed.

“Well,” she said, and he could feel the nerves in her every word, “I just…think you’re really…um…”

She paused.

“Swell,” she said, under her breath.

“Swell?”

Satsuki nodded, her cheeks the color of his hair.

“Swell,” she said.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, chuckling, “If I’d heard you say that when we were kids, I would have probably exploded!”

“Really?”

He nodded, smiling.

“I’ve…I’ve really liked you since we were kids.”

That rare genuine smile came back and in the dimly lit apartment with the moonlight in her hair and eyes shimmering, Sakuramaru was only half sure he wouldn’t die on the spot. Putting her arm around his neck, Satsuki lifted herself up to kiss him again. He returned it this time, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

“I like you.” She said.

Sakuramaru smiled.

“I like you more.”

His girlfriend (never thought he’d call her that outside that one fantasy) smirked up at him.

“I think I like you more than you like me.”

“Stop being so competitive.”

Satsuki kissed him again.

“Never.”

Sakuramaru smiled.

“Good. It’s part of you and I love every part of you.”

So few got to see this side of her. Smarmy, playful, but ultimately affectionate. She was more than that idealized cool girl that everyone thought she was back in the academy, more than a fugitive, more than a prodigy, more than just the sum of her parts.

“You’re very tall,” she said.

Well, that had come out of nowhere.

“Any reason for this observation?”

“When we were Genin, you were shorter than both me and Naruko. Now you’re taller.”

He belatedly realized that she was standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Well, you’re still very beautiful.”

Satsuki turned around, guiding his hands to rest on a slip of stomach that had been revealed when her shirt had ridden up during their kiss.

“I’m all sharp features and scars,” she said, eyes closed in apparent bliss as his fingers drew circles on her stomach, “not the cute little girl you had a schoolboy crush on.”

Against his better judgement, Sakuramaru sent a pulse of chakra into his fingertips and smiled against his new lover’s neck when she sighed with pleasure.

“That was unfair,” she said, “do it again.”

Instead of doing exactly what she asked, Sakuramaru slid his hands up into her shirt and repeated the action cupping her right breast. This time he was rewarded with a gasp.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

“Where…?”

His lover paused to compose herself.

“Where did you learn that?”

Now it was Sakuramaru’s turn to be bashful.

“From one of Lady Tsunade’s medical scrolls.”

“Tsunade taught you foreplay?”

“I…I thought it was something else. I was trying to impress her.”

Satsuki smirked at him.

“Were you ‘hot for teacher?”

Sakuramaru felt his cheeks heat up.

“Maybe…”

“It’s okay,” Satsuki said, laughing, “If we’re being honest, I’ve been there.”

“Really? Who?”

Satsuki brushed her lips against his.

“I’ll never tell.”

That was fine with him. As of now, Haruno Sakuramaru only had eyes for Satsuki.

“Well, since you’ve seen some of Lady Tsunade’s more private medical scrolls, does this mean you’re a really good doctor?”

The way she asked it was a little bit airy, playful even. She knew he was the best medical nin in the village. Ask anyone and they would say the same.

“You know it.”

“In that case, I think I’m due for a check-up.”

Sakuramaru relished the yelp of surprise that Satsuki gave when he picked her up bridal style and carried her into the bedroom.

“My operating room, miss,” he said, dropping her unceremoniously on the bed, “you’ll have to strip so I can give you a thorough inspection.”

She tossed her shirt at him, which landed on his face. He removed his own shirt and pants and was rewarded with Satsuki shamelessly ogling him.

Once again, he thought, nearly dying from Tsunade’s strength training had been worth it.

“See something you like?” he asked.

“The pink treasure trail is cute.”

Sakuramaru frowned. That was a mood killer. His hair was not pink. He accepted Coral, Salmon, or light red, but not Pink.

“It’s salmon.” he said.

“But pink’s my favorite color.”

“I thought your favorite color was blue?”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind because of the color of my pubic hair?”

“Whatever you choose to think, Pinky.”

Sakuramaru jumped on her, smothering her with kisses.

“Call it pink again and I’ll kiss you more!”

“Pink!” she said, “Pink, pink, Pink!”

Soon, they were tangled up in each other’s limbs, troubles forgotten in the midst of kisses and laughter and too tired to make love like they’d intended. Sakuramaru pulled the covers over them.

“And after tonight you’ve only got a month left before you can go on missions again,” he whispered, “seems like you’ve had a pretty good night, Satsuki-chan.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he thought she might be smiling.

“Yes,” she said sleepily, “good night.”

Send me Sasusaku Prompts; AUs welcome

#Sasusaku #My Writing #Writing #Request #Requests #Genderbend #Might do a Naruhina one set in the same universe

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overwatch-does-stuff · 5 years

Text

Overwatch: Observation

Summary: Talon has received its newest test subject, in the form of a man raving about "the melody". Moira attempts to make her observations.

Moira observed. With how incredibly unstable her new subject was, that was all she could do. Her only view into the room, her only method of observation, was through a small security camera tucked in the corner of the padded walls. The man laid on the ground in the straitjacket, his mouth quivering softly. Incoherent words were occasionally mumbled loud enough to be picked up by the camera's audio. Something to do with a "melody" and "the universe". If the man wasn't so clearly out of his mind, Moira might have enjoyed talking to him. Curiosity burned within her. This man was part of an experiment, an experiment that had completely changed his genetic makeup to the point where it was barely recognizable as human. Was that what he had intended? Did he consider his experiment as successful? After all, failures in the eyes of ethics were not always failures in the eyes of true science. She knew that the experiment involved black holes, but that was the extent of her knowledge. It was the extent of Talon's knowledge, anyway. It was knowledge she was hoping to further. But she was unable to learn more from this dusty security room. Observation had shown no signs of change in the subject. Minute after minute, the only image of the room was that of a old man on the ground, speaking in absolutes. She did not doubt that the man was unstable, but perhaps he was not as volatile as Talon was lead to believe. Even if he was, she was certain she could escape the grasp of his supposed powers with ease. It was time to further this research. The double-door lock that led into her subject's containment cell took far too long to operate. Moira tapped her foot with impatience as the large outside door swung closed, and a security scan was initiated. She quickly tapped a nearby button with her finger to disable the scan. She was bringing objects into the chamber, yes, but they were diagnostic tools; tools she would need for readings of his condition and further samples of his DNA. After another lengthy pause, the smaller but still armored inside door slid open. For the first time, she looked directly upon her new subject. He looked unchanged from her previous view of him, as if he was frozen in time. The padded room dulled the sound of her footsteps as she approached the man, but the vibrations she caused to travel through the ground seemed to wake the man out of his dream. He opened his eyes and looked to the ceiling, dazed. There were codewords, supposedly, to help manage this subject. Supposedly they were used by the staff of the government retention facility to stabilize him. Moira supposed it was worth a try. "Sigma?" The man took a sharp breath and his eyes returned to focus. With a small hiss in his breath, he replied. "Sigma. . . present." Moira did not reply. She walked around the the side of the man and pulled out a scanning tool. She briefly flicked the holographic bar over him, and notes on his condition came up on the screen. Physically, he was not injured, though 'healthy' was not the right word to describe him either. Done with that, she put the scanner away and brought out more tools from the pockets of her lab coat. Her work was interrupted by a quiet voice. "W-where am I? How. . . how did I get here? Who are you?" Moira did not respond, but just for a moment, her eyes met with his. Mistake. "Why am I locked up? What are you going to do to me?" The man whimpered, his voice trembling. His body tensed. Moira detected that his pulse had picked up. Obvious even under the thick straitjacket, the man's chest still rose and fell, quicker, quicker, quicker still. Other tools currently in her pocket began to chirp quietly, their sensors detecting fluxes of instability. That was when Moira remembered she was currently sharing a room with a weapon instead of a test subject. "Sigma." She said sternly. The man began to weep, his body shaking with every sob. As he did so, Moira felt a faint pang of nausea, as if she were falling. She gasped. "Sigma, respond. Sigma!" She strengthened her voice, but the feeling only increased. One of her diagnostics tools chirped louder, only now, she noticed, because it was no longer in her pocket. It floated in the air alongside her. She quickly grabbed it and put it back in her lab coat, pinching the pocket closed. Instinctively, she tried to take a step back, but as soon as her foot left the ground, she floated backwards. Her heart raced. She couldn't focus herself enough to fade. The man continued to ramble in between his sobbing. "Please don't hurt me. Please don't! I don't even know who I-" In an instant, Moira was thrown against the ground. She landed on her back, knocking all the air out of her, before something continued to squeeze down upon her body even harder. She gasped for breath. "HOLD IT TOGETHER." The man screamed. Moira tried to lift her head up and look, but it felt as if lead weights had been placed on her neck. Spots appeared in her vision and her head began to ache. But as suddenly as it started, it was gone. The pressure lifted. Moira gulped down breaths of fresh air, coughing and sputtering as she did so. Her ears rang faintly. Her throat burned. When her focus returned, she sat up from the ground, clutching her head. She nearly flinched when she met the gaze of her subject. The man twitched, his head tilting to one side before righting itself. His eyes were pale and weary. "Are you alright?" He asked. His lips barely moved. Moira simply looked at him, stunned to silence. The man looked her up and down in return. "You look. . . like a scientist. Are we back on the station?" A station. Moira had read this subject's history. It was where this man had conducted the experiment that made him this way. If he believed he was back there, then perhaps he would be calmer. Perhaps she could get somewhere. "Yes." "Oh! I'm sorry. I must have dozed off." The man blinked to her reply. "Say, I don't recognize your face. Are you new here?" "My name is Dr. O'Deorain." She said stiffly. "I don't recognize your name." He looked down at the ground, before looking up again. "My name is Dr. De Kuiper." Moira purposefully tried to soften her voice. "Can you tell me more about your experiment, doctor?" "The experiment. Yes, of course. I'm afraid the full outline in is my office, but if you would like to see some of the basic gravitational equations, I could oblige. . ." the man looked down to his arms, which were bound. He flinched upright, and the same dazed look he had when he first woke up entered his eyes. "Doctor De Kuiper." Moira reached out her hand and grabbed his shoulder firmly. "Do not worry. You are safe." "I am safe." He repeated, and he relaxed again. "You are. Now, can you tell me about your experiment?" He shook his head and gave a nervous smile. "No, not with my hands tied like this. And, I don't see a whiteboard around here. Do you have a marker? Perhaps I could write on the walls, o-or you could write on them for me." Moira laughed slightly. "It appears I left them all in my lab. I do not." "That's alright." There was a look of kindness in his pale eyes. "Perhaps another time." "Indeed." Moira replied. Another thought crossed her mind. While he was temporarily stable, perhaps it was possible to accomplish her original goal after all. She searched her pockets for her tissue sampler, only to find it missing. She looked behind her. It sat a few cushions away. She reached back and grabbed it. "What is that?" Her test subject asked. "It's a tissue sampler." She didn't look up as she fiddled with the tool's settings. "Oh?" "Genetics is my," she paused, "side hobby. May I swab your cheek?" Actually asking her subjects for their genetic material was so foreign to her. She was used to simply taking it without regard. None of her previous subjects were ever a worry for her. None of them could ever do something in protest, for they needed her, and needed her services. But now, she needed him. She needed him to cooperate. He had the power to choose not to cooperate. She could practically feel the pressure crushing down again, squeezing the life out of her and- The man smiled again. "I don't know much about genetics. Why bother when astrophysics is so much more fascinating?" Moira took a quick breath and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. "It is, but-" "Sure, I'll donate a sample. Just don't try and clone me." He cut her off with the same happy tone, with no regard to her obvious nerves. Moira leaned forward, and he opened his mouth. She took a cotton swab that was dispensed by her tool and quickly swabbed the inside of his mouth. Then, she inserted the swab back into her machine. The data of his full genome would take some time to be fully analyzed, but she certainly didn't have to wait here for it to be processed. "That's all I need, doctor." Moira said. The man closed his mouth. "Are you leaving me now?" "Yes. Goodbye." She stood up. It was not that long of a distance to the exit door. "Please, come back." His eyes followed her up. Moira froze. "I have to go now." She said slowly. She took deep breaths to steady her pulse. "Come back and tell me when the experiment chamber is ready for my experiment, I mean." He said, twitching slightly. "It should be soon." Moira did not respond as she walked hurriedly to the door. She wiped the sweat off her hand on her lab coat, then put her finger on the panel next to the door. The door slid open, and before it was even open all of the way, she stepped through it. The double-door lock that led out of her subject's containment cell was far to quick to open. The doors were several inches thick, but not thick enough, she worried. If her subject was able to toss her around like a ragdoll without even being conscious that he was doing so, who knew what he was capable of doing on purpose. A chill went down her spine. She shook her head. For the first time, that was a theory she did not want to test. Fear. Fear was not a normal emotion for her. Fear of the unknown was silly, illogical, and it impeded progress. Fear limited the mind's ability to question and investigate fully. Perhaps it was good, Moira observed, that she finally felt it again.

#overwatch #Sigma #overwatch-sigma #hero 31 #overwatch-moira #moira o'deorain #overwatch fanfiction #no it's not a ship don't worry

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bluehhj · 5 years

Text

listen to me — chapter 43

LISTEN TO ME — 0043

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.8K

Hyunjin sat and stared at the floor in a static way, as if only his body were there while his soul drifted away. Though several people circled around him, the hospital's silence was morbid and equally deafening, so that even the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall seemed to echo too loudly. And speaking of the latter, the dark hands that belonged to it marked exactly one in the morning. No news. Nothing at all.

It wasn't Woojin's personality to be silent for so long. He enjoyed telling jokes, talking loudly, making jokes, teasing his friends — anything was valid as long as serious moods were broken and smiles broke out from affected moods. Stormy atmospheres distressed him, yet, the situation was so, but so heavy, that he didn't even know what to say. The words seemed to lose all meaning, leaving only a hidden message that the silence might be less worse.

Chan and Seungmin, as hospital staff, tried to use their references over and over to at least get a peek into the operating room, but it was no use. Seungmin shouldn't worry so much, after all, he never made any kind of relationship with that group of friends — except for Woojin, who used to call him to chat on Sundays —, yet, the possibility of going home without receiving any solid diagnosis was out of the question for reasons he couldn't even see the need to understand. He was just there, steady, and would stay the same until the end.

Chaerin didn't think otherwise. Although Jisung had forgiven her, she still felt like she owed something. On closer examination, perhaps such a debt would finally be settled, since, if it hadn't been for Seungmin's little brother's birthday and the two had not gone to Mrs. Kim's house, and had chosen to take that same road as their return route, Jinah and Jisung could be much worse. Still, she thought Han was the last person in the world who deserved to go through what was happening. One loss of love had been enough, he didn't need two.

Changbin was still recovering from the scare. When Woojin called him, he thought it was some bad prank or joke — not that he had processed everything completely now, but, he forced himself to keep his thoughts in the right place and his feeling of positivity intact. Occasionally, hypotheses began to surface in his mind and, without even a clue what the resolutions were, Changbin was angry, for considering the possibility that Jinah had forgotten her seat belt after so many warnings about, his blood boiled. That's because Seo had no idea of the accident; if Jinah was really in a belt or not; if it was really an accident or some recklessness. In short, silence was widespread mental torture.

Hurried footsteps of thin heels aroused the attention of those present at the hospital's silent reception. The others turned their faces and saw the sight of a blond figure who just stood in front of the counter, not caring about the volume of her voice or the scare that the unprepared nurse took: "You have five seconds to tell me how my son is!"

Sooyoung was running right behind. She was wearing flat shoes, which should give her a certain advantage over her sister, but after being reported, Hyoyeon seemed tireless and unbeatable like a robot.

"Oh, my heart," the nurse said with her hand on her chest. On a badge attached to her lab coat was the name Son Hyejoo. "I see I'm still going to die in this place."

"It's been three seconds!" Hyoyeon kept pushing. Sooyoung touched her arm in a silent plea for her to calm down, but was promptly ignored.

"What's his name?"

"Han Jisung."

The noise of the keys under Hyejoo's fingers was nerve-wracking as she searched the system. Twenty seconds have never seemed so long in the history of mankind.

"He came in at 11:58 PM, but our floor hasn't yet received any news. You can sit and wait with the others, it is likely that-..."

"I don't want to know what's likely or not," interrupted Hyoyeon. "I want you to take advantage of your lack of what to do here, get up and check it out."

"That's not true, I have a lot to do now."

"Your phone unlocked in Candy Crush says you don't."

Hyejoo clenched her jaw and looked down at the bottom of the counter. Her finger deftly turned off the screen of the device. She was caught in the act!

"Okay, but, still, I can't leave the reception alone. I'm sorry."

"Girl, this is just the flies!" Hyoyeon gestured with her arms. "Nobody wants to steal your aspirin, you could be a little more nicer!"

And of all the times Hyejoo saw her boyfriend entering the reception, that one undoubtedly made her happiest.

"Okay, Mrs., your news has just arrived," she said with some relief, pointing her chin at the light-pink haired boy with a clipboard in his hands.

"Who is responsible for Han Jisung?" the doctor asked and everyone got to his feet, but it was Hyoyeon who ran over anyone in her path and stopped in front of the pink-haired boy.

"I'm his mother."

"Your son is out of danger" breaths were released when he announced. "The concussion wasn't severe, it is likely that he's already awake in the morning. As for the left arm injury, I must say that, if the bleeding hadn't been contained at the first moment, the evolution to a hemorrhage would have aggravated the case. I don't know who did the first aid, but I have to congratulate on the agility."

Hyunjin squeezed Chaerin's shoulder in mute thanks, and Hyoyeon brushed aside the urge she had felt to kick the Canadian's shin from the moment she noticed her presence. Later, she should also say thank you.

"Can I see him?"

"It isn't feasible to interrupt the patient's rest, so, I ask you to be brief."

"And Jinah?" asked Felix.

"She's still in surgery," the doctor subtly lifted a corner of his rosy lips, apologizing intrinsically. "I passed near the OR just now and they are doing what they can."

"Jeongin, let me have a look at her," Chan begged. He used to have coffee with the younger boy everyday, since Yang was his internship instructor. "Please, she's my friend."

Jeongin pondered for a few seconds, but abandoned puppy faces were never something he was good at ignoring.

"Alright, hyung... Just don't touch anything."

So, Chan, Jeongin, Hyoyeon and Sooyoung — this one dragged by her sister — left the reception. The rest sat down again. They were happy for Jisung, but proportionally concerned about Jinah; soon, the tension-laden silence continued to fill the air. Except for the vibration of Hyunjin's phone, which looked more like a machine gun in the pocket of his pants. He, then, withdrew from the group of friends to answer his sister, who hadn't been in touch with him for two months. Judging from this, Hyunjin had no doubt about the high importance of whatever Yeji had to say to him.

"Have you heard what happened to your friend?", she asked immediately, not even making room for a 'hello', 'how long' or 'good evening'.

"Yeah" Hyunjin wasn't friendly at all either. That was how the two had worked since they met. "I'm in the hospital."

"Alone?"

"No, the others and Jisung's mom are here."

"Don't let these people out, I'm coming."

"Why? You don't even like them."

"It happens, darling, that I'm working, and things are more serious than you might think."

Then the call was terminated by Yeji herself. Hyunjin was surprised, of course, but, considering that no one seemed willing to take their foot off that hospital before things worked out for Jinah, too, he decided to be quiet until his sister arrived and explained further.

It all seemed so upside down that Hyunjin only remembered to ask how Yoorim was when he sat back next to her. Heo was wearing a huge pink sweatshirt, practically wearing it as a dress, and her arms were crossed, staring at her sneakers as if something about them was too interesting.

"Did you get better?" Hwang asked softly. His voice could only penetrate the girl's consciousness after a few seconds.

"What?"

"Woojin hyung said you had a headache, so you went home early."

"Ah, it's true" Yoorim was so airy that, for a moment, she forgot about the migraine that caught her off guard earlier. Tired of spending so much time in the same position, she turned on the couch and hugged Hyunjin, laying her head on his shoulder. The boy returned the hug and left a peck on her forehead. "I'm better now. I think it was the fries, they almost always make me that way."

"Rest, baby. Anything I call you."

And being so well accommodated to Hwang, Yoorim closed her eyes and didn't think twice before agreeing.

On the other side, Changbin again looked at Jade without her noticing. Alone and sitting in one of the farthest sets of chairs, the brown-haired girl with two single blond locks at the front used both hands to cover her face. Dealing with the disastrous breakup of her relationship of so many years was already being very heavy, and now she also had to deal with her best friend being in grave danger of life or death. If a few days ago someone warned her that things would be so horrible, Jade would imagine any hell but what she was experiencing. Suddenly, she felt like disappearing, or maybe crying until there was no liquid left in her body. Her eyes burned.

Changbin took a deep breath and stood up. He said nothing, just walked toward the girl and bent down in front of her. His hands gripped the hands of others, and Jade jumped in place as she recognized the touch. Changbin hugged her, so tight she squeezed out a sob. The american didn't say a word either — it didn't seem necessary — and she buried her face in the crook of Seo's neck as she felt a gentle caress on her back.

Because, above all, Changbin and Jade were friends, and friends who love each other forget adversity and lean on hard times.

Time continued to pass, although the atmosphere remained the same. Hyunjin was playing with Yoorim's hair when he heard footsteps approach. His sister was very quick when she was interested in something.

She was wearing her typical black police uniform, her dark hair tied in a ponytail at the top of her head. Her keen eyes scanned the group, including Hyoyeon, who had just returned with Sooyoung.

"Good evening, or not so good," she began, seriously. "For those who don't know me, my name is Hwang Yeji..." she paused for a second, sharpening her hearing to understand the murmurs. "I know you would rather not know me, Woojin, I say the same, now shut up. I'm here to talk about the case I was responsible for, referring to Choi Jinah and Han Jisung."

"Case?" Hyoyeon frowned. "It wasn't a case, it was an accident. Wet track, I warned them to be careful."

"I'd say the wet track was the slightest problem, Ms. Han" Yeji pulled up a chair and sat down. "We have a lot to talk."

a/n: just to clarify, this suspense isn't completely intentional. the chapter almost reached two thousand words and if i put the two missing scenes to close this moment, it would be over four thousand and that would be well beyond my standards of writing, so i ask you guys to have patience

hwang hyunjin and hwang yeji, you two can end the secrecy at once and confess that you are siblings, everyone already knows, no use saying that you are only children

jokes aside, at first, who would play the role of the cop in this au would be hyejoo herself, but then i fell in love with itzy after much denial and decided that there was no one better than yeji for this girl power vibe, besides she being the perfect person to play hyunjin's sister, and i've thought they both look alike and here we are. by contrast, jeongin hadn't yet appeared here on LTM to this day and i'm so glad that i managed to fit our baby into the plot aaaaaaaa

and about minho, he’ll appear more in (d)lm, you guys will see in the next chapters of the spin-off, okay?

i'll TRY to see you guys again during the week. it's complicated for me cause i work at night and study in the morning, i think i've even said it here, idk, so there's not much free time left, but i'll do my best

i love you, don't give up on me <3

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zacklover24 · 5 years

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Phantom Manor Chapter 5

Summary: A long time there was once a town called Thunder Mesa. Thunder Mesa was a humble town that was built in a canyon and the canyon lay in the shadow of a mountain, Thunder mountain. The town of Thunder Mesa was also a mining town. One day a man named Dutch van der linde went to Thunder Mesa to get rich. He was not so humble miner who struck gold and became rich overnight and with the help of his wife Annabelle. And with that gold came power and soon Dutch owned all the land in Thunder Mesa. Dutch built himself and his young wife Annabelle a home on the hill that overlooked Thunder Mesa. The van der linde shadow stretched over Thunder Mesa. And then Dutch and Annabelle were gifted son, a son named Arthur.

What do you do when you inherit a haunted house? Why, try not to die by the hands of one of your dead realites, solve a hundred years murder mystery, and try not to die by the hands of the ghost that live in the haunted town. And solve that murder mystery as well. Haunted Manor Au, ghosts, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder, supernatural elements.

Tagging: @dolphinitley, @lokighost, @statichvm, @naromoreau, @starsandskies, @outranks, @nykamito-x

Angel let out a hiss, as she eased herself down into the tub. Last night had been rough, after the initial shock had worn off, and fear had set in. Fear of something living in this house that was hell bent on hurting her. Jack spent an hour searching the upstairs rooms but could find nothing. Angel was looking at her ankle, it wasn’t broken just bruised. Jack had insisted he spent the night with her, but Angel said no. Jack did one more check and now the next morning Angel had a pink and red hand shaped bruise on her ankle. Maybe, that Sean guy was right. Maybe the manor was haunted. Angel looked at the bar soap, and was ready to use it when she was hit with a sudden wave of anger.

“Oh fuck a duck.” Angel hisse, throwing the soap into the bath water, the soap hit the water with a splash, and some got onto the floor. Ghosts aren't real right? The bruise on her ankle proved the theory right. Angel let out a groan as she got out and dressed. Jack had said that last night that they were going on a tour of Thunder Mesa. So she dressed in a light blue tank top, and paint stained jeans. Downside of being an artist. And her boots,(not her riding her boots, those were back at Shady Belle. These were her good boots.)

Angle made it down to the kitchen and found Jack making pancakes, with tea for her and coffee for him.

“Morning.” Angel greets with a small hand wave.

“Morning, you sleep well?” Jack asks flipping pancakes.

“Okay, I guess.” She admits rubbing the back of her neck, “No, other injuries.”

“Well I guess, in a way that is good, right? Foods almost done.” Jack tells her. Angel let out a hum as she took her cup and sat down at the small table. The house did have a nice and fancy dining room, but for the pair of them the small table in the kitchen was fine. As she moved to sit down, the chair was pulled out for her. She looked at Jack who was busy cooking. Was the ghost trying to say sorry for last night? Angel sat down and was staring down at her cup, as she was lightly tapping the cup waiting. What the fuck was up with this house? Was it haunted.

“What's wrong?”Jack asks setting the plate down in front of her.

“What?” Angel asks startled out of her thoughts.

“Your tapping your cup. What's wrong?” He asks again starting to eat.

“Maybe that Sean guy was right.” Angel tells him slowly starting to eat.

“Maybe.”Jack says with a mouth full of food.

“I-maybe he has some answers for us. After all he is a tour guide.” Angel mumbles staring down at her food. Jack nodded his head in agreement as she moved to grab the butter.

“Ang?” He asks seeing as she was wearing the necklace she found, “Where did you find that?”

“Dutch’s study.” She tells him as Jack got up to grab his coffee and then Angel eyes went wide as dinner plates. Jack was wearing a square gold belt buckle with horses engraved on it.

“Da fuck is that?” She asks him blinking a few times.

“You like? Found it in my new room. Seemed to have belong to Arthur.” He explains, with a yawn and a head shake.

“How do you know it was his?”

“The engraving on the back says 'To Arthur, with love Mary.' So I assume his.” Jack explains with a casual shrug.

“Its God awful.” Angel tells him wrinkling her nose.

Jack gave a lazy shrug as he sat back down, “I like the necklace it really brings out your hazel in your eyes.”

Angel rolled her eyes, “You are a charmer Jack Marston.”

“Why thank you Angel van der linde.”

“I like that.”

“So do I.” Jack agrees with smile, as Angel shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The drive to Thunder Mesa was blessedly short. Seeing as Dutch had built his house to loom over the small town. Even those it was still early in the morning the parking lot was half full with cars from all over. As the pair exited the car, a chill ran up there spines, Angel and Jack shared a look but said nothing. At the entrance to the old mining town was a large iron works sign that read 'Welcome to Thunder Mesa' Angel had no clue if that was the original sign or not, next to the entrance was a rather large plague, made out of black material. There was a rather long desperation with an image of the town behind it.

‘On the morning of 1898, a terrible earthquake hit the town of Thunder Mesa. The earthquake came out of nowhere, a quarter of the townspeople sadly lost there lives, while those who lived fled from the ruins and remade there town out of the shadow of the mountain. Many of the town folks at the time believed that the curse of the mountain is why the town was destroyed.’ Next to the story, there was more but Angel didn’t feel like reading it. Next to the story, was a list of names of the people who died.

“Holy fuck, alot of miners died.” Angel tells Jack, who let out a low whistle.

“Fuck man.” Jack says whistling at the long list of names, “So many people died, if only they had known.”

“I doubt they would have done much, if they had known.” Someone says in front of them. Angel let out a small yelp, as she turned around.

“Hi Sean.” Jack greets with a small hand wave. So this was Sean, he looked to be a few years older than Jack and Angel, with long and wild red hair, with sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing a tour guide uniform. “Angel this is Sean the guy I meet yesterday at the store.”

Sean eyes light up when he saw Jack and gave Angel a smile, “You must be Angel van der linde. It’s an honor and pleasure to meet you.”

“And it's nice to meet you as well. So you were telling Jack here that our house is haunted?” Angel asks him, as Sean nodded his head yes.

“So have you experienced anything yet?” Sean asks with glee in voice and eyes as he spoke.

“No.” Both say at the same time.

Sean face feel, “What a shame, but I’m sure you didn’t want to hear about some old ghost stories. But, the story of Thunder Mesa.”

“Both would be nice if you could.” Angel asks him, as Sean smiled as they moved further into the town. Thunder Mesa reminded Angel and Jack heavily of Valentine but with sand and dirt and no mud in sight, but like if Valentine had been hit by an earthquake and rebuilt. They stopped in the middle of the town. As Angel was looking around she thought she saw someone. It was a man, he was sitting in front of the doctors office, he had graying blonde hair that was slicked back, and was wearing a really nice looking pinstripe dark blue vest, with a white shirt with the sleeves cuffed at the elbows around his neck was a dark red scarf, and a pair of black pants, with a nice looking boots. The man was reading the newspaper, and when he looked up Angel saw his sparkling blues eyes. The man gave Angel a smile and wink.

Sean clapped his hands together and started to rub his hands together, which made Angel jump and to see that the man was gone, “Now Thunder Mesa was founded in march of 1848, during the gold rush. Dutch and his young wife Annablle came to Thunder Mesa in 1853, during that time Dutch worked as a miner in the mountain he worked hard and soon struck gold. Using the gold that he found he and his wife were able to buy the town and build there home on that hill.” Sean explains to the pair.

“I think we were heard this part.” Angel tells Sean, “Annablle and Dutch had a son named Arthur and then the day before the wedding the earthquake hit killing just about everyone in town and then Arthur and Mary were found dead.”

“Yea nothing new there.” Jack agrees.

Sean let out a few tsk, “What you do be hearin’ is the bare bones of the story. See Dutch was making a crap of money from the minin’ operation. So much so folks were said to have a livin’ wage. Dutch cared about the town. He made sure that everyone had some place to stay and live. All the buildings were built well. No one in this town went hungry and if you were hurt you went to Dr. Matthews, who was a close friend of Dutch’s he was. Those some say they were lovers.”

“Lovers?” Angel and Jack both ask Sean.

“Yea, they were carin’ about in secret away from there wives. It was the worst kept secret in Thunder Mesa. Some of the accounts that we found say that Hosea, Dr. Matthews first name, was on his way to see Dutch the day the earthquake hit.” Sean explains, Sean pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the doctor’s office, “When the good doctor wasn’t workin’ he could be found sittin’ outside his practice readin’ the paper.” Did Angel see the ghost of Hosea Matthews?

“How did he die?” Jack asks Sean as Angel was staring at the doctor’s office.

“Seems like he was helpin’ to save some kids from bein’ killed. He died by being crushed.” Sean tells him.

The rest of the tour went on and by noon it was too hot for either Jack, Angel and Sean and they left. Well Sean had to stay but he was going to go cool down before his next tour. Angel and Jack went back to the manor and Jack said he was going to go make lunch. Angel was heading upstairs to her room to remove the bandages from her arms to let her cut get some air.

Angel stopped in the middle of the hall when she heard thumping. The thumping was coming from the end of the hall. With a head title she followed the thumping to a door at the end of the hall.

“I wonder.” She whispers twisting the knob, the door swung open to reveal a staircase. And at the top was a door and the banging got louder. She let out a hum as she took the steps up, the stairs creak under her weight but gave no sign that they would break. She made it halfway, when some sort of force blocked her. The force, whatever it was let out a cackle as the force knocked her backwards, she went flying backwards. She was prepared to fall and hit her head on the floor.

“Why hello there.” Someone says catching her before she could hit the floor.

End of line

#Phantom Manor #Disney AU #rdr #rdr2 #red dead #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #sean macguire #jack marston

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years

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Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Drop of Life or Death

"Just keep following me, guys!" Sonic called out to his pursuing friends as he breezed along the ocean with his amazing namesake. Who needs a boat when you're the fastest thing alive? He directed his attention towards what appeared to be a tranquil beachside area, which courtesy of its boardwalks, and its white, pristine sands, he couldn't help but be reminded of his favourite relaxing spot in Station Square.

"Where are we headed to?" Amy asked quickly, as she continued to hold onto Cream while the latter flew in the air.

"The local coastal resort is not too far from here," Lutrudis replied, while she did the same with Tails. "Being such a destination, it's naturally a popular spot in Viridonia. If Dr. Eggman is the kind of character I've been led to believe, it's possible he may be sabotaging the place for... whatever selfish reason."

"Maybe he's forcing everyone to worship him..." Cream pondered out loud fearfully.

"If he's not busy worshipping himself," Amy added with a bit of sass, having known the evil scientist's self-aggrandizing habits for some time now.

"Eggman makes me feel older..." Tails muttered somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Did you guys say coastal resort?" the sea-walking Sonic questioned, with a notable drip of dread in his voice. "There won't be too many unavoidable pits of water around, will there?"

"...Aren't you running on water right now?" Tails pointed out, trying hard to hide his amused tone.

"Not the same thing!" Sonic denied defensively, as he dashed off to their destination. The remaining four exchanged glances with each other, before picking up the speed themselves. Unbeknownest to them however, the blue droid from before was spying on the group once again. High above their own heights, he rubbed his hands in glee, in tune with the siren atop his cranium.

"Heh heh heh..." he giggled, betrayed by his unthreatening voice and nervous pitch.

---

Coastline Resort Zone

CR Act 1: Shining Shore

Lutrudis' Badnik Logs: Crabmeat - “Yet another 'classic' in the doctor's repertoire of mischievous metal myrmidons. Not only do they use those great big pincers to pinch you in the backside, like any crab with a short fuse, they also fire pellets from afar. Better turn them into Crabscrap before they cause you grief.”

Gameblow - “Based on the older model known as Game Game (darling name, I must say), these innocuous looking turtles spin their shells like a deadly frisbee. Regular frisbees are bad enough, but at least they only hurt your neck rather than, y'know, potentially slice it.”

Aquis - “Despite being based on seahorses, these ones never touch a single drop of water, instead opting to swim through the air... as well as rain down bullets on you. Not very advertiser friendly.”

Sweep - “Can you run on water? So can these pests, unfortunately. Trimming along the deep blue with surprising grace, they like to insert their spiked noses into your person... I trust it goes without saying that this would hurt quite a bit.”

At the risk of disappointing Sonic greatly, welcome to your first water zone in Viridonia. There may have been the odd watery area in the previous zones, but this will be the first one to really make use of your swimming skills... or non-swimming skills. Well, it may not suit the Blue Blur's tastes, but you're not gonna stop Eggman otherwise, right?

Anyway, you won't have to fret too much about inescapable underwater sections for the time being, as this act takes place at the lovely beach by the sea. If you expect this to simply be a textbook Emerald Coast however (you know, like Wave Ocean), you've got another thing coming. True, there's elements of those stages here and there - the palm trees filled with juicy coconuts, the wooden boardwalks leading off into the ocean, the occasional flashy yacht floating along to make you feel dissatisfied with your own life choices - but even a quick glance will reveal the beautifully decorated plaza, the higher cliffs teeming with stunning waterfalls, and the tall torches complimenting the gradually darkening sky, as it's close to reaching sunset by this point.

You can even stop by the tourist centers if you want to, of which their residents will be happy to provide you with interesting facts about the place... when they're not grumbling about rival tourist destinations, that is.

"I heard that Apotos once got corrupted by a dark force, causing its residents to act out and commit heinous acts of evil... Now between you and me, would they have went through all that suffering if they came here...?"

"You know the worst thing about that Dr. Robotnik? His vacation planning make no sense! Who puts a theme park in space? Was it his plan all along to kill everyone through lack of oxygen?"

"Soleanna? More like SoleanNAH... Look, I don't get visitors often..."

By this point, you'll have noticed that Lutrudis isn't the only one tagging along with Sonic and Tails this time around. Amy and Cream are tagging along too, and like Miss Hadeer, they'll try their best to help out here and there, as well as provide banter that doesn't get repetitive or redundant. You can't rely on them too much though, or else this would be far too easy. The Crabmeats and Gameblows still put their focus on you when attacking, though the Aquis seahorses will prove to be the most obnoxious of the set due to their tendency to hang around in the air. Suffice to say, Tails can get rid of them a lot quicker, unless you're really good with Sonic's momentum.

By the time you reach the home stretch, represented by an impressively sized lighthouse, an orca whale will pop out of the water. Luckily, despite your initial reservations, this one is friendly to blue hedgehogs, as it happily allows you to run along its back... But once you jump off its back, and leap high into the air, another orca will suddenly jump out to try and eat you. After narrowly avoiding the hostile orca's vacumn of a mouth, you're quick to notice that it's been equipped with highly advanced armor... and it appears to be acting against its own will, as you also notice the blue robot hovering down with a remote control...

Amy: What's going on!?

Sonic: Wait, that's-!

Gunner: Heh heh heh...

As the first orca wisely flees the scene of the crime, you're forced to run away from the clutches of the second, mechanized orca. As tense as orca chases were in the past, they didn't fire lasers and bombs at you. Poor Cream in particular is frightened beyond belief, but you've made it out of these situations before. Unfortunately, the actual terrain is a lot more complicated than past incidents of this sort as well, as you must traverse through piers, caves, AND cliffs to escape the jaws of the beast.

Eventually however, the ray of the lighthouse will shine upon the mecha orca, and with its temporary distraction, it'll crash into the nearest cliff, Monstro-style. Don't worry, it's not dead. But it did get rid of the armor encasing it, thus freeing it of its operator's control.

Gunner: Ohhhhh nooooo...

As the robot rather pathetically crushes its remote in anger, before flying away, you can finally complete the stage by freeing the critters from the end capsule. But in the distance, you can hear a lot of splashing, and a lot of children in particular yelling out gleefully. Or could one of those be a manchild...?

---

"Who was THAT weirdo?" Amy wondered as she squeezed the last drop of water out of her quills. "Eggman's newest hunk of junk?"

"Is the poor whale okay...?" Cream worried to herself. Lutrudis was quick to nod in reassurance, and gave her the A-OK hand signal for good measure. Amy also nodded sympathetically as she rubbed her little friend's head in affection.

"That wasn't a new guy," Sonic muttered, still soaked from head to toe, and not too pleased about it if his slumped body language was of any indication. "That was a Heavy."

"A what?"

"A Heavy, Amy. A Hard-Boiled Heavy to be precise. Me and Tails tangled with them long ago... I didn't think I'd ever see them again, but here we are."

"Them?" Cream asked nervously. "How many of them are there...?"

"Five," Tails answered bluntly. "They were tougher than they looked too," he added dejectedly.

"Drat," Amy cursed out loud, complete with a fist in her palm. "And I guess Eggman didn't decide to only rebuild one of them? Now we have a whole GROUP of jerks to watch out for."

"There's five of us though, right...?" Lutrudis gestured with her left hand. "Surely they're not much different from the doctor's other robots."

"Well actually," Sonic scratched his ear as he looked to his side awkwardly. "These robots were enhanced by a really weird jewel."

"Oh... of course..." Lutrudis trailed off, before quickly regaining her confident burst. "Well you still beat them once before. We can handle them... At least, you guys can... Myself, well..."

Before Sonic could argue with what he perceived as an error in her statement, Lutrudis cleared the last set of bushes that revealed the source of all the excited noise: a hustling, bustling water park. The vaguely ancient architecture suggested that it was formerly a set of aquatic ruins, but with the addition of industrial gizmos and doodads in the modern age, it was now a colorful array of seaside adrenaline. Dazzling fountains were dotted all over, and it truly caught the group's attention.

"Wow, this place looks cool!" Tails beamed with youthful glee. His tails couldn't help but twirl around in excitement. "We should hang out here for real when this is over! What do you think, Sonic?"

He was quick to notice the look of subdued resignation on his lifelong buddy's face. Evidently, the blue hedgehog had wearily accepted that he was about to get very wet once again.

"Oh man..." Sonic sighed, as Lutrudis put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

---

CR Act 2: Crazy Rapids

Lutrudis' Badnik Logs: Lobstrike - “These lobsters practically become heat-seeking missiles the moment they spot an enemy. Fortunately, while they're certainly fast, they can't turn around once they fire at you. Can't say I was fond of the taste of lobsters anyway.”

Scuba Pawn - "The most clever thing about these Pawns is that they're sea green. Slightly less clever is their tendency to throw their floatie rings like boomerangs, as well as launch a torpedo if you're under the sea. The doctor's compulsive need to mix deadly and daft would be almost admirable if it weren't for his equally compulsive need to conquer the world through it."

Returning Enemies: Crabmeat Gameblow Aquis Sweep

Doesn't this place look amazingly fun? Not if you're aquaphobic. Good thing no one on the team is, or else this would be very awkward.

Being a water park, you have a plentiful amount of gimmicks to experiment with. Water slides, water whirligigs, giant bubbles for you to substitute for temporary platforms, and even jacuzzi hot tubs that launch you up in the air with their overwhelming heat. Everything's coming up wet around here! The hybrid of marble ruins and wacky equipment certainly makes for a memorable scene, but don't get too distracted, lest you get bumped off by a Scuba Pawn.

Speaking of which, does no one here realise the gravity of the robots' presence? One lanky zebra in khaki shorts seems to have a unique take on them...

"Yoooo! Digging these mascots, dude! So full of life, know what I mean dawg?"

As you attempt to avoid shutting down emotionally upon hearing the word "dawg", let's discuss the swimming in this adventure at last. As Sonic, you naturally can't swim, but as Tails, you can count on that cute little doggy paddle of yours to help you go places. Compared to the old days however, Tails can now swim a lot faster, making underwater sections a lot more bearable than they would be otherwise. Of course, Tails will still tire out if you doggy paddle for too long, and regardless of who you're playing as, failure to obtain oxygen in time will result in a certain memorable countdown... followed by death.

That's not to say that you can't complete underwater stages with Sonic. The level design is always laid out in a way that ensures he can still make it through as well. But basically, you're better off with using Tails in these type of stages, unless you have something to prove.

And what would a place called Crazy Rapids be if it didn't have any rapids? There's a whole bunch of them, and you gotta watch your step, as the current during these sections is way too speedy for you to swim through without getting washed away. Like the honey in the Hornet's Nest though, you won't die if you get caught in it. You'll simply be momentarily inconvenienced... which is nonetheless a big deal when there's Lobstrikes willing to take advantage of your situation.

After all the slides, the rapids, and the trips in and out of the water, you'll eventually find yourself running along a straight path that takes you to the park's information center... But right before you enter it, you're suddenly bombarded with missiles. Once you dodge them for a brief period, the source of the missiles will hover down and reveal itself... a familiar helicopter, with a familiar passenger. With a push of a button on its control panel, the copter dispatches the rotors in exchange for a round underside, and the vehicle slams down onto the floor behind you with a mighty crash, breaking the floor apart instantly. With the contraption now taking the form of a boat, you must run for your life as an old friend tries valiantly to earn himself some much desired payback...

BOSS: Heavy Gunner

On one hand, this is kind of like your original fight with the police-themed Heavy, in that you're keeping up the pace against his vehicle of choice, and he's firing an onslaught of missiles everywhere he goes.

On the other hand, everything else is completely different.

For starters, Gunner's boat is always behind you, and its chipping away at the ground you're cruising along. Falling into the water here won't technically count as an instant death, but you'll be a sitting duck for the balloon-sized bombs that he sends down your way, so try to avoid that fate as best as you can. Should you stay above the ocean however, Gunner will opt for continuing his missile assault with his trusty yet blocky bazooka.

Now, Gunner's missiles have different colours, just like your past encounter with him. But this time, he fires red and green, not blue. Red missiles go straight for you, while green missiles arch upwards, loop around once, and then crash down onto the floor ahead of you, thus risking a watery trap for your character. The cybernetic sail on the front of the boat prevents offensive measures from the front, and neither type of missile can be deflected back, for it is proven that a robot can learn from his mistakes. So what do you do?

Wait for a green missile. Then, when it loops around and is close to ground level, grab onto it. Keep holding on until the missile is at the highest it can go, and right before it crashes down to the ground...

Gunner: Uhhhhh ohhhhh...

...let go of the missile and slam yourself down onto the boat with all your might. Gunner's subsequent arm flailing and eyeball popping will indicate that he did not account for this maneuver, and his boat will notably sink ever so slightly.

Three more rounds of this is all it takes. But be warned, for in an effort to prevent you from pulling that stunt again, the pattern of the green missiles will grow increasingly erratic after each hit, culminating with some truly fast zig-zag sweeping. As well as that, he'll also start firing missiles while you're up high in an attempt to make you lose focus. But speed is your middle name, so you've got this in the bag. After four strikes, the boat will finally give way and sink altogether, but not before Gunner ejects from his craft and jets away. This won't be the last you see of him, but you've foiled him for now. Let's just hope his buddies follow the same destiny...

---

"Y-you'll pay for t-this..." Gunner muttered timidly, as he used his jetpack to fly off to an unspecified destination.

"Sorry cop, but you ain't taking me in," Sonic quipped. "Wasn't fun being in jail the first time around..." He and his friends carried on running through the path, only to stop by an isolated building hidden away by trees and bushes. Upon taking a step inside...

"Look, Mr. Sonic!" Cream clasped her hands happily.

"Huh?" Sonic turned around after making sure Gunner was gone, and to his own surprise, occupying the lobby area was a whole bunch of Chao, of different colours and shapes, all playing around without a care in the world. Some of them were enjoying the pool, others were sliding down minature slides and throwing balls with each other, content with the other's company.

"A Chao Garden...?" the hero wondered.

"Yep," Lutrudis answered, hands on hips. "You didn't think we'd have any of our own here?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Sonic said nothing, too caught up with watching the little Chao. Amy and Cream wasted no time in petting and playing with the nearest Chao they could find, and even Cheese greeted himself to them through their own unique language.

"Chao!"

"Chao Chao!"

"Chao Chao?"

"Chao! <3"

As they got along with each other, Tails turned to Lutrudis. "Do you come here often?"

She nodded wistfully. "I love Chao." She rested one arm on her hand. "They're such beautiful little creatures... And so calming to one's senses. I've considered having one of my own, actually."

"Why haven't you got one?" Sonic questioned, as he crossed his arms.

"I'm not sure if I would make a good parent figure for them..." the horse rubbed her arm, while looking aside. "I don't really have the experience for that... and I doubt that'll change anytime soon..."

"Well, I think you'd be great with a Chao," Sonic gently nudged Lutrudis with a wink.

"Yeah!" Tails agreed. "You've treated the rest of us fine, right? You're nowhere close to having the inhospitality of someone like-"

"Guys, watch out!" Lutrudis suddenly called out to Amy and Cream, after having briefly glanced up at the transparent glass roof. Before they could react however, said glass roof suddenly exploded in a shower of broken shards, which threatened to cause serious damage to everyone within the lobby. Thinking fast, Sonic used his speed to get most of the Chao out of harm's way, and his four friends followed suit to the best of their own abilities. While the damage had been done to the surrounding area, the Chao were understandably in a state of panicked frenzy.

Sonic looked around to make sure his friends were okay, and he was subsequently relieved to see that Lutrudis had successfully herded all the Chao to a safe corner of the room, and was currently attempting to calm the poor things down. Before he could do anything else though, he immediately sensed another's presence. He didn't need to guess who it was. He could already hear the culprit's voice in his head before it even came out, as he had arguably heard it more times throughout his young life than even his own. Yet sure enough, out it came.

"Well, well, well... Sonic, my old pal. Long time no see, eh?"

The hedgehog looked up with distaste, and there he was, floating above in his signature hovercraft. The man who had caused so much trouble over the years. The man who saw himself as an emperor. The man who had a lifetime score to settle with people a quarter of his age. His two lackeys of questionable usefulness, Orbot and Cubot, were alongside him, as expected.

"Hey, what's all this commotion?" A burly duck in a suit and tie had walked into the scene, not at all happy with the carnage he had just heard, and certainly not with all the collateral damage. "Do you KNOW how long this will take to clean u-"

The duck immediately froze upon seeing the notorious scientist. He stood there in silence for a few long seconds, as his life flashed before his very eyes. The doctor simply turned to him, awaiting the expected reaction. Cubot was at least friendly enough to wave at him.

"R-R-Robotnik..." he stammered. "Gotta go...!" He promptly bolted out of the room, having cared very much about his own mortality.

"Oh, please, come back!" Eggman called out sarcastically. "I'm only here for a chat!"

"What are you doing here, Eggman?" Sonic asked with apprehension, ready as ever to put up his dukes if necessary. Tails and Amy were likewise quick to prepare themselves.

"What am I doing here?" Eggman pointed at himself with artificial innocence, as if he were hurt by the remark. "Surely the real question is what are you doing here. Must you always be like this, Sonic? Always following me wherever I go?"

"I think you've got that the other way around, doc," Sonic muttered, unimpressed with the man's fooling around.

"Just tell us your stupid plan already!" Amy complained, gripping firmly on her hammer. "Like you always do!"

"Now now, that's not how you greet yours truly," the doctor slowly waved a finger at the temperamental pink hedgehog. "I was just in the mood to visit the Chao that I hold so dear to my heart!"

"Because he wants to kidnap them," Orbot helpfully added. Eggman wordlessly glared at him.

"Kidnap the Chao...?" Cream contemplated with horror and revulsion. She immediately held Cheese tightly to her chest. "Why would you do such a thing!?"

"Yeah, why would you do that?" Tails questioned in a more quizzical tone. "What do you need Chao for? You're always after stuff like the Chaos Emeralds, and you've never cared about Chao at all until now..."

"Ah... I don't think I'll be telling that," Eggman leaned back and chuckled deviously. A grin started to appear on his face. "You see, things are a little different this time-"

"Don't you say that every time?" asked Cubot.

He got smacked in the face for his troubles.

"Things are a little different this time," Eggman repeated, looking in Cubot's direction in annoyance while doing so, before turning back to face the heroes. "If I explained everything right now, I'm afraid none of you would understand any of it! You'd have to reach MY level to get it." He smugly tapped his bald head, clearly alluding to the genius he prided himself so much on. "So if it's all the same with you, I think I'll be taking these girls and boys with me now."

Sonic was ready to thoroughly jeer at Eggman's amazing optimism in expecting to do as he pleased without his say in the matter. But before he could do so, another voice spoke out for him.

"You're not taking any of them."

Eggman looked confused as he wondered who had dared to say No to someone of his self-appointed stature. He quickly turned his Egg Mobile around, and saw Lutrudis standing in front of every last Chao. Her arms were outstretched, fully indicating that he would have to go through her to get them. The Chao were all terrified.

"Oh, right, you," the doctor commented. He stroked his right whisker. "I almost forgot about you. You're the new one, aren't you? The newest friend."

"~Ooooooh, friend!~" Orbot overdramatically clasped his hands joyfully.

"~Friend!~" Cubot added, and did the same in response.

"You're not taking these Chao," Lutrudis reiterated firmly, unflattered by the mockery directed at her.

"Surely you know who I am...?" Eggman asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Then you also know what I'm capable of...?

"Yes."

"And you know full well what I could do to you right here, right now...?"

"...Yes."

There was an audible hint of anxiousness in the horse's voice. This was her first face-to-face encounter with the most dangerous criminal in the world. She knew that he could mess her up in unimaginable ways, most likely with the push of a button. There was palpable fear on her face... Yet she remained where she was, not budging for a second. Even if it resulted in misfortune for herself, she refused to hand over the Chao.

"Then why do you dare to oppose me...?"

"Knock it off, Eggman," Sonic commanded fiercely. His hand began to curl into a fist, and his ears were straight up. His spines also sharpened a tiny bit.

"Why do you dare to oppose me...?" Eggman repeated, with added emphasis. His face was now inches away from the horse's own. "What's your story, hero?"

Lutrudis simply glared, despite the fear in her eyes. "No one owes anything to a rotten madman like you."

"...Madman...?" Eggman sneered venomously at her. Orbot and Cubot both shook their heads in fearful unison, explaining to Lutrudis non-verbally that saying such a thing to their master's face would not end well for anybody.

"Hey, egghead!" Sonic called out impatiently, tapping his foot. "We're still here, you know! You think WE'RE gonna let you take them?"

Eggman turned to Sonic with irritation. "Right, okay, let's get one thing sorted out about this 'egghead' business...!"

While the doctor was distracted, Lutrudis noticed that Cream wasn't too far from where she was. With a whisper, she called Cream over, to which the rabbit obliged. Kneeling down slowly so as to prevent her leg bones from straining, Lutrudis whispered in Cream's ear for a few seconds. When she finished, Cream nodded without a word, and she in turn called Amy over with a whisper of her own. Amy briefly looked to make sure that Eggman wasn't paying attention to her...

"If you absolutely HAVE to make these puns, why not go for something more original? More refined?"

...before tip-toeing over rather daintily to her two friends. After Cream whispered to Amy in her ear, the hedgehog nodded too. Eggman still didn't notice...

"Is this really the best you can think of, hedgehog? Have all those years of getting in my way gotten in YOUR way of coming up with something clever?"

As quickly as she could, Amy grabbed every last Chao, which turned out to be complicated given there were at least a dozen of them. But, not to be underestimated, she had them all in her mighty grasp... or at least, they were grasping her. This was then followed by Cream picking Amy up, and flying her out of the scene, taking the Chao along with them.

"...And that's why you need to come up with more original insults! 'Egghead' is so bottom of the barrel! Now then, the Chao..."

Eggman turned once again in Lutrudis' direction, only to notice her smiling with her hands behind her back, looking as innocent as can be. He also noticed that the Chao had all mysteriously vanished.

"Huh...?"

"Ha! Nice one, Trudy! Catch you later, egghead!" Sonic promptly dashed off further into the building.

"Better luck next time!" Tails added playfully, as he too followed Sonic's course of action.

After seeing them leave, Eggman stared at Lutrudis with confusion, who simply saluted at him with a smirk.

"See ya."

And with that, she ran off to follow her friends. As he watched her run off - but not before noticing she ran in a weirdly stilted way - Eggman simply floated in his craft in silence. He crossed his arms in thought.

"Oh dear, looks like you got tricked," Orbot thought out loud.

"Aw, you'll get 'em next time, boss," Cubot reassured. "Unless you lose next time, and the time after that... and the time after that..."

"I don't know why we're treating this as a loss," Eggman simply said, backed up by his surprising degree of calm nonchalance. "I'm still one step ahead, and maybe a few steps more..." He continued looking to where Lutrudis once was, as he gave his moustache another stroke. "Clever girl, that one. But she won't feel clever for long... Ho ho ho ho..."

"Hey, I heard a lot of noise earlier, what happ-" The pelican that entered the room turned tail and ran out as quickly as he came in. "Oh god, Robotnik's here! I'm too young to die!"

Eggman merely glanced at where the pelican was, and shrugged to himself.

---

"Where did they take them?" Sonic questioned as he kept jogging.

"To my castle," Lutrudis replied, trying her absolute best to keep up with him. "It should keep them safe, at least for now."

"You think they'll be alright with the Chao?" Tails asked in concern.

"Dude, Cream's oldest friend is a Chao. They've got this." Sonic looked around the hallway they were running through. It was rather fancy, with dark reds and silvers complimenting the mood, as well as a black and white checkered floor. "So uh, where are we actually going?"

"This takes us to the aquarium," Lutrudis informed him, while attempting not to sound like she was already out of breath. "I don't know what use Eggman would have for it, but his robots have been everywhere else so far, so..."

"Ahem, excuse me," a polar bear with a beard stepped in the way of their path to the entrance of the aquarium. "I'm afraid this area is reserved for celebrities only."

"What? But..." Sonic didn't often like to flaunt his world saviour status, but given the potential stakes at hand, it was evident that he didn't have much of a choice here. "But I'm Sonic the Hedgehog!"

"Oh yeah?" The gruff polar bear raised an eyebrow. "What's your proof?"

The hero stared at him in silence for a few painful seconds.

"...I'm Sonic the Hedgehog...?"

The bear shrugged. "Can't argue with that. You may enter."

The three friends simply looked at each other, each of them as baffled as the other. They soon made their way through the entrance in a single file, and once they were out of the bear's sight, Tails turned to Lutrudis with one ear lowered.

"Not to be mean, but that guy wasn't very good at his job, was he?"

"Apparently not," Lutrudis lightly brushed her ponytail aside to scratch the back of her head. "I don't recall anything about this place only accepting celebrities... Still, considering the circumstances, we should be grateful for his ineptitude."

"I just hope we don't need to make too many dips here," Sonic added, though his weary tone confirmed that deep down, he already accepted the reality.

Meanwhile, the bear looked behind him to check that they were gone, and upon confirmation, he smiled deviously to himself. All of a sudden, a puff of smoke had engulfed him, complete with a few dramatic sparkles, and when the dust settled, in his place was a droid much like Gunner, only this one wore yellow and a top hat... it seemed to be unable to stop moving its hands around.

"Hmm hmm...!" the robot chortled in a feminine tone, before disappearing in another puff of smoke.

---

CR Act 3: Aquarium Gallery

Lutrudis' Badnik Logs: Blastoid - “The good news is that they stay put. The bad news is that they're often placed in a rather intrusive fashion. Little do they know however that with the help of a certain shield, their projectiles can hardly put up a fight in the slightest.”

Shelly - "Looks like a bog standard seashell, right? Wrong: they may look all pretty and divine, but the moment you go near it, they'll clamp down on you like a deranged bear trap. Doesn't necessarily motivate me to sell seashells on the seashore..."

Returning Enemies: Crabmeat Aquis Sweep

This is the friendliest and the deadliest aquarium you've seen yet. There are fishies of all shapes and sizes (and colours) here, but as it turns out, some of the normally docile fish have been forcibly turned into mindless killing machines, just like the orca from earlier. You can leave them be if you want to, but freeing them of their armored shells will net you more points, and also make you feel good about yourself.

Tails: Why did Eggman do this to these poor fish?

Sonic: I don't know Tails, but I'm not standing for it.

Lutrudis: Perhaps they're being used to guard something from us...

Blastoids make an appearance in this stage, and they're the same as ever, right down to being rendered inefficient if you have a Water Shield, as you can simply deflect their projectiles away. However, they can still pose a threat, as they're fond of sitting atop glass roofs that - should their pellets make contact - will break a piece off, potentially sending you into the water below with a mechanized fish for company.

As you progress through the stage, you'll notice a change of environment. The red and silver halls filled with glass tanks and statues will gradually get phased out in favor of beautiful turquoise caverns, with the ripples of the water reflecting on the cavern walls. Speaking of the water, that too takes up a mildly turquoise hue, as do the stunning waterfalls found all around. Giant seashells rest easy, with funky patterns... just make sure you don't get them mixed up with Shellies. You can even see a little bit of sunset poke through the holes in the wall. Is this even part of the aquarium? Who cares.

What you should care about is a new force of nature at work: cybernetic sharks, with metal teeth and glowing red eyes. They're huge, they're fast, and you can't hurt them at all. You can only evade them, as starting a fight with one will cause them to eat you without a second thought, thus making you die instantly. Don't you just hate it when an enemy is inexplicably invincible?

But as long as you avoid the robo sharks, you'll make it out in one piece. The end of the stage takes you outside the caves, showing off the sunset in all its rich glory. The purple and red contrast beautifully with the briny blue sea, but you're also quick to notice what looks like a dam. It looks... rather old, actually...

---

“Tch, there sure aren't a shortage of weird buildings around here,” Sonic mused as he examined the rusty dam beyond him. It didn't look to be of Eggman's design, but it certainly gave off a creepy atmosphere all the same. Despite that, for all its decay, it was still sturdy enough to keep the nearby water under control. The sunset shined brightly upon the dam.

Tails noticed that the park they were in not too long ago was now a short distance away from where they were at the moment, having spotted it far away from the dam. Those caverns they came through must have been more expansive than they realised.

“Do you think Eggman plans to do anything with this?” the young fox asked. His eyes glanced left and right, as if to seek out the evil scientist.

“I can think of some ideas, but I'd rather not blurt them out in case he's... listening,” Lutrudis answered lightly.

“Good idea,” Sonic added, having also glanced all around for Eggman's possible whereabouts. “He always appears at the worst times, like back pain.”

“I know the feeling,” Lutrudis joked, as she stretched her arms.

The three of them went further down the path to the dam. The size of the structure impressed them even more the closer they got, and though a relic of an older time it may have been, they couldn't help but marvel at the effort of construction that went into it. For all their attempts to locate him however, the doctor himself was in fact standing at the very top of the dam. He was on his own, and he looked down at the curious adventurers. He kept watching.

They looked at the entrance with wariness. It appeared to be empty inside, but they knew better than to think they would be so lucky. Sonic turned to his two comrades.

“Well...?” he motioned towards the gate.

His friends simply nodded. Lutrudis had her bow in her hand in preparation for an unexpected attack. As they went inside one by one, Eggman took one of his hands off the nearby railing, and pulled out a communication device from his pocket. He put it right up to his ear.

“Now,” he commanded.

---

CR Act 4: Hydro Plant

Lutrudis' Badnik Logs: Drisame - “Watch out for that hammerhead! They hide in walls before leaping out to ambush you, and they also love to shove you into other hazards. If you get them facing upwards though, you can actually stand on them like it's no big deal. I don't think that was an intended feature on the doctor's part...”

Inkbrink - “These elongated squids can poke you with their sharpened noggins. They can also soak you in toxic black sludge, and if you're REALLY unlucky, that monitor of yours will temporarily get covered in the gunk as well, thus blinding your vision for a brief period. (Incidentally, what exactly is that monitor for...?)”

Returning Enemies: Crabmeat Gameblow Lobstrike Blastoid

It's quiet here. Possibly a little too quiet, if one were to be cliche. Well at least you're given a chance to breathe. Though the inside of this old dam is a tad dreary and full of shadows, you don't have to deal with too much at first. There aren't even that many enemies. For now, use the conveyor belts to go even faster, which still work perfectly fine despite their age. You can even stop to look at the occasional bit of graffiti, which includes inspiring quotes like:

Stand Up 2 The Pain + Turmoil

Toot Toot Sonic Warrior

All Hail Shadow

For The Mania

justice for kidd

One of them is tragically spelled incorrectly:

Make belif reborn

Anyway, as you go further down, it gets darker, but not to the point where you can't see anything. There's the occasional robot hiding around, mainly Drisames, but hardly anything for you to worry about. The sunset once again seeps through the few windows here, but don't get too enraptured. It might feel like a maze, but Lutrudis tends to go the right way, so just follow her if you're as clueless as a grey hedgehog during his debut.

It's subtle at first, but you might begin to notice that the area is growing slowly more high tech. The near-withered bricks and stones are gradually exchanged for silver metal, some of which is shiny enough to show a reflection. It dawns on you that this is the heart of the plant, and what's keeping it functioning despite appearing to have seen better days from an outsider's point of view. This is where the enemies ramp up in presence... along with underwater dives, to Sonic's misfortune. He even expresses envy when Lutrudis shows herself to be highly skilled at swimming by comparison.

Sonic: I really gotta learn how to swim sometime...

Lutrudis: I can teach you if you'd like... y'know, when this is over.

Of course, this wouldn't be a problem if you picked Tails, since he can swim. But you can still make it with the blue one. Just be sure to keep grabbing those bubbles for air regardless of who you're playing as. Inkbrinks and Lobstrikes can be troublesome in the tunnel sections here, but if you get an Inkbrink's sludge on you, it'll disappear after five seconds... better hope you don't run into another one during that time. There'll be no S Rank for you anytime soon if that keeps happening.

As you get closer to the end, you can spot a very complex, towered structure in the distance, full of bright green lights that contrast with the blue and silver all around. Some of Eggman's minions seem to be making an attempt to break it down, but you're not having any of that. Beat them up, and you'll hear the doctor himself chime in:

Eggman: You bothered to come all the way down here? I expected nothing less from you fools... but at least this will be entertaining to watch now! DROWN them, Crabgrind!

Right on cue, a crab mecha of intimidating stature bursts out of the ground like a possessed drill. It immediately starts drilling away at the structure, and it doesn't take long for the heroes to realise what the intention is:

Tails: Wait a minute... this is the heart of the dam... he's trying to cause a flood from the inside!

Sonic: And it'll seep through to the outside... we gotta end this fast!

BOSS: Crabgrind

Don't let the name fool you, it looks nothing like a Crabmeat. It's more like a hermit crab in design, if the shell had a bunch of spikes all over. Mix that in with a couple of drill pincers, and you've got a formidable beast. At least it's slow... right...?

This is NOT a timed fight in the traditional sense, despite the current urgent situation, but you'll want to do it as quickly as you can anyway, because the longer you keep at it, the longer Crabgrind will get to drill through the structure, and the more water will fill the arena, which will of course reduce your speed a little. There will be air bubbles if it gets to that point, but... try not to let it get to that point, okay?

As for the fight itself, Crabgrind may be focused on the structure, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have time to spare for you. As it does its work, it'll fire the spikes off its shell like pointy missiles in an attempt to keep you away from its job. Due to the size of the spikes, they're actually rather tough to avoid, especially if you're avoiding them underwater. It's not impossible, though. A well timed spin dash is enough to do the trick. If you try getting closer to the shelled monster, it'll use one of its pincers with the intention of drilling through your fleshy body. This is fortunately not shown in realistic detail. You can knock the pincer back to prevent the attack, but that won't damage it. What's the secret?

Like the Paindozer, Lutrudis is your key. In the brief period that Crabgrind's spikes are detached from its shell before gaining a new set of them, you can spot some fragile-looking wiring through the holes. Lutrudis will try to shoot an arrow through one of those holes, but Crabgrind will in turn try to attack her if she does so... unless you've got it distracted. Reflect its pincer a couple of times, and that'll be enough time for Lutrudis to fire an arrow through a hole without issue. Upon getting an arrow lodged inside, Crabgrind will start spinning around in a frenzy to try and get it out, while firing its spikes more erratically all the while, before clumsily falling on its side... revealing a weakpoint on its underside. Give that a whack to damage the mecha.

This carries on initially, with not much variation bar the expected longer periods of attacking, and ramping up the defensiveness... After six hits however, things take a dramatic turn...

Eggman: Hmm, this is getting a little boring now... Time for Plan B, Crabgrind! Ha ha HA!

Without warning, Crabgrind will cease attacking the structure... and instead lunge straight for you and Lutrudis, knocking you into a conveniently placed chute where you're constantly sliding along the current. You may be reminded of certain adventures from an earlier period, but now is not the time to dwell on the past, for Crabgrind will now use its shell to poke through the water and shank you. You can tell where it'll appear by spotting the bubbles that briefly pop beforehand. Even then, this demented game of Reverse Whack a Mole can be hectic. Keep your nerves under control, and you'll be smooth sailing.

Again, Lutrudis is your key. After several rounds of it popping in and out, Lutrudis will use all her strength to straight up grab one of its pincers with enough grip to actually slow it down temporarily, to the point where she's now surfing along the water with her feet. An impressive display, but not an easy one for her...

Lutrudis: Quickly...! I can't hold on for long... not with these bones...!

While she's grabbing one pincer, Crabgrind will go multi-purpose again and launch the other one at you in confused rage. Dodge the drill, notice the exposed point in the now empty pincer, and give it mayhem. This will take that pincer out of commission for good, though it will still hang there and limp along. Repeat this procedure with the other pincer, and then - with both pincers rendered unusable - Crabgrind will lose its mind and fire all of its spikes everywhere, without even bothering to aim at you. You don't even need to wait for an arrow at this point. Wait for a hole in the shell, jump through and attack his core, and watch as the once fearsome crustacean slowly sinks one last time. Tragic... if it weren't a mindlessly evil machine.

---

"Okay, that's the crab down, but now what!?" Tails asked in fright as they continued getting swept away along the tunneled river. The current was too fast to handle, even for Sonic.

"Relax!" Sonic grinned sheepishly, clearly hoping this wouldn't kill him. "What life or death situation haven't we gotten out of? We made it out of the fake emerald ordeal in one-"

"Look out!" Lutrudis pointed with wide eyes.

"Oh sh-"

A barrier had appeared at the end of the tunnel, which sent them flying over it, and through to outside civilization... represented in this case by more sea. Sonic was especially unlucky to have banged his head on the barrier, which knocked him out hard. His unconcious body began to sink in the sea, as Tails and Lutrudis came to their senses.

"Sonic!" Tails panicked. He and Lutrudis immediately swam below to grab him, but their own fatigue from their experience proved to be an issue. Thinking quickly, Lutrudis snapped her fingers. She motioned for Tails to grab her from behind, which he did. She pulled out her whip, closed one eye to aim as best as she could, and launched the whip in the drowning hedgehog's direction.

As luck would have it, the whip latched onto Sonic's leg. Lutrudis turned her head to Tails and nodded. Tails nodded himself in response. Using their combined strength, they pulled, and pulled, and pulled... and they pulled just a little bit too much, for Sonic's body was suddenly sent flying out of the water and into the air. Their eyes bulged in disbelief upon witnessing this, and Lutrudis pointed up frantically. Getting the message, Tails shot out of the water like a turbo submarine.

Meanwhile, Sonic was beginning to regain consciousness.

"Huh...?"

He was quick to notice he was falling back down to the sea.

"AHHH!"

Mercifully though, Sonic's initial panic came to a halt as Tails grabbed him. Sonic looked left and right in puzzlement, then looked up to see Tails' relieved face. He looked at his foxy friend for a second, then gave him a sheepish thumbs up.

"Is he alright?" Lutrudis called out to Tails from below.

"He's fine," Tails answered. "Just a little dazed."

"Yeah..." Sonic muttered in agreement, as Tails hovered down to pick up Lutrudis. The horse grabbed onto the hedgehog's legs, and they began to fly away together.

"What happened...?" Sonic wondered.

"You, uh, nearly drowned," Tails awkwardly explained.

"Oh... well it's a good thing I didn't. Thanks, guys." Sonic then thought to himself for a moment, then looked down at Lutrudis with a lighthearted smirk. "I don't suppose there was any mouth to mouth?"

"Oh no, no, not at all," she shook her head lightly. She looked down for a moment, and then looked back up. She smirked as well. "But I could give you that, if you want..."

Sonic paused abruptly. He looked like a deer in the headlights.

Lutrudis laughed. "I'm kidding," she gently teased him, to which the blue one chuckled somewhat bashfully. "Let's head back to the castle. Amy and Cream may be good with Chao, but there was still a lot of them. We better help them out."

"Right!" Tails obeyed. As they began their journey back, Sonic couldn't help but look down at Lutrudis once again. This time around, his expression was that of warm amusement.

Less amusing was who was spying on them from afar... Eggman watched them fly away in the comfort of his Egg Mobile. Despite witnessing the miserable defeat of his minion, he appeared to be in a good mood. He floated away in a different direction, smiling fiendishly to himself all the while.

---

Back to Chapter 2-3 Interlude...

To Chapter 4...

#Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars #Crusher's Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfiction

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junionigiri · 5 years

Text

Ruby Red and Caramel Ch 10: Caramel

Summary: Momo is a hero; Katsuki gets another chance. They go home.

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: some blood mentioned but all medical. Also... last chapter? :) if i get another episode of hyperfocus I’ll upload the epilogue soon!

“Why the hell are we doing this to ourselves?! Aggh!”

Tetsutetsu is the one who yells this against the chilly night outside of Momo’s apartment, where he and Yosetsu and Itsuka are having a break. It’s a highly improper thing to do in such a quiet neighborhood and Yosetsu tells him off for it. Momo, however, is inclined to agree with his sentiment.

It’s hard not to. All they’ve done the entire year was to study, up until finals, where they studied harder than they ever knew they could.

“’Cause we want to help people. Make a difference and all that,” Itsuka supplies without any of her usual vim and vigor. The usually upbeat redhead is all but drained of her positivity studying mutation-quirk anatomy.

Tetsutetsu makes a frustrated noise again before dropping on the concrete like a block of metal. “Yeah, I know I know, but it’s so hard to think of that when all we do is study our asses off!!! It doesn’t make me feel like I can help people, it just makes me feel like I might be too dumb to be a doctor!”

“You have a point,” Yosetsu deadpans, earning him a stern glare from Momo and a big-handed slap from Itsuka. “Hey, I’m agreeing with the first part of his statement!… and only just a little bit of the dumb part.”

Another slap rings throughout the night. Tetsutetsu doesn’t seem that offended though. He might be too much of a sport, or just too tired, or both.

Momo takes this opportunity to chime in, “But you know, it’s times like this where I wonder what it would be like if we didn’t go to medical school.”

Her three friends eye her in curiosity, Yosetsu especially. “You’re thinking about your middle school fantasy again, Momo?” he says teasingly.

She smiles at him with a shrug. “Don’t you?”

Itsuka chuckles at that. “Yeah, definitely. I think everyone does from time to time.” She stretches her hands up above her and stares at them in interest. “I wonder what my life would be like if I had pushed through going to UA instead of Shiketsu GS? Would I be a distinguished pro-hero right now?”

Without missing a beat, Tetsutetsu shouts with a grin, “Of course you would, Kendo! And I definitely would be Battlefist’s biggest fanboy!!! I’d be your fanclub president!”

“You’re already Battlefist’s biggest fanboy,” Yosetsu says flatly, as Itsuka giggles with a blush.

“But you’re onto something there, Yaoyorozu!” Tetsutetsu swings his fists meaninglessly into the air in front of him, making it sound. “I thought a lot about bein’ a pro too! Still think of it, even though it’s too late for us since we’re old and all. But it kinda freaks me out sometimes, y’know… I mean, it ain’t exactly a safe job and all. We could break our necks out there, or worse!”

Yosetsu nods sagely at that. “Yeah… being a pro ain’t a joke. Remember that thing that happened when we were in middle school? The one with All Might?”

“Yes, I imagine everyone does,” Itsuka says, her ponytail bobbing as she nods. “That’s what stopped me from applying in the first place. From the start, Mom and Dad were iffy about me going to heroics, but… I mean, if that terrible thing could happen to a kid and All Might himself, even with all the heroes around...”

They fall silent, as if to reminisce collectively on the events that happened. When All Might saved that child and all the consequences happened, everyone was exposed to the brutal truth of heroics: that heroes are humans who put more than their lives on the line, and sometimes heroes can’t be saved.

And with so little heroes, who is there left to stand up for the rest of them? Times like this, Momo wishes that she stood her ground into going to UA even more. With all due humility, she thinks she would have been a good hero. People need a versatile quirk like hers, and she thinks that she is competent enough to make so many things to help them…

An alarm sounds from her phone, signalling the end of their break. The four of them collectively groan.

“Well, that’s about it for our flashback scene,” Itsuka says, dragging a protesting Tetsutetsu by the arm to the apartment. Momo and Yosetsu follow, with him putting an arm around her and her leaning her head against his shoulder.

Perhaps noticing her exhaustion or her sudden glumness, he rubs a hand comfortingly over her shoulder. “You’ll be saving people one day too, Momo. So don’t look so down.”

“You think so?”

He nods, obviously tired but very confident. “Definitely. You won’t be a pro, but you’re gonna be someone’s hero one day.” And then, with a teasing grin, he adds, “And you don’t need to traipse around in a hot red bathing suit to do it, either. Not that I mind that wardrobe in particular, but--”

“Yosetsu. ”

He laughs and sticks out his tongue, the teasing grin on his mouth not going away.

They spend the next few hours cramming medical knowledge in their head, until one by one they drop on the floor, asleep and practically dead to the world.

The operating room is emptier than it’s ever looked, and it disorients Momo at first. Besides her and Katsuki, only Dr. Kayama the anesthesiologist and a lone nurse who goes in and out of the operating room, obtaining all the tools they need. Apart from that, the patient being tended to by Dr. Midnight, as she’s called sometimes, are the only living beings in the usually crowded room.

Gloved hands up, Katsuki looks across her, ruby red eyes burning intensely between cap and mask. “Ready when you are, doc.”

Momo nods. “Let’s do this.”

All of their patients are victims of the attacks on the three districts infiltrated by the Nomu who suffered from head trauma. Some cases are harder and more complicated than others because of quirks that make the structures of their skulls, skin, and even the anatomy of the brain different.

“Quirk suppressants running, Dr. Yaoyorozu.” Dr. Kayama, despite the looming emergencies they have lined up, looks utterly confident. Years and years of experience makes her look like she would do no wrong.

Momo wishes she can smile the way she is right now. It’s only the first patient and already the self doubt creeps at the back of her mind. At the first cut of the skin, at the first drip of blood seeping from the line, her hand freezes.

She doesn’t know how long she stares at the cut, but Katsuki snaps her out of it with a bark of her name and a glare of ruby eyes. “Focus,” he says in the fierce and gentle way that only he can do. “You know what to do next.”

And Momo realizes that he’s right. The freezing happens once or twice more, and each time Katsuki’s voice gets her out of the fog. She doesn’t know how she manages it, but they manage through the operation in an hour and thirty minutes.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

They look at the scans and the cases with Dr. Kayama and Kendo, who goes in and out of the OR and makes sure everyone is all right. As they set up for the next operation, Katsuki urges her to eat something, even though the adrenaline in her bloodstream doesn’t let her feel hungry.

The next operation starts. Momo’s thin hands getting more acquainted to the feel of the drill. The self-doubt is there, but it’s easier to ignore the voice this time as her movements become more practiced, more confident. Katsuki is focused and silent, quick to do what he needs to do on the field without being told.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

Momo wrings her hands, making sure that they’re steady. They’re thin outside of the surgical gloves, and pale. Katsuki forces another rice ball into her, and scrubs in for the next case.

They operate again. The drill cuts through bone and makes a great noise that reverberates through the haze in her head.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

They’re in there for a half day or more. Momo isn’t sure. They try to get the operations done under two hours at a time. There’s a lot of them though. Momo knows; she saw the people thrown by the monsters, crushed by debris, caught in between the pro’s fights or the other civilians desperately evacuating through narrow sidestreets. Shinsou tells them that he and Dr. Aizawa are transferring as many emergency cases as they can to the other hospitals, but it’s difficult because of all the damages in the roads. There isn’t much to that could be done to the massive influx of patients.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

“Momo,” Katsuki calls out.

She’s midway into cauterizing through skin. Momo tries to tell her hands not to shake so much. No, not now, not while they’ve just started.

She will do more harm than good with this knife in her hand. Closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “I need a moment.”

The digital clock on the other side of the room reads 02:05. She doesn’t know if it’s AM or PM. The numbers don’t mean much anymore.

She feels a gloved hand over hers. Katsuki stares at her meaningfully. There’s fatigue there, but not the slightest bit of doubt.

“I got this,” is all he says.

Quietly he takes the tools from her hands and gives her the handfuls of gauze in his hands. There are many reasons why she should stop him from doing this--he isn’t affiliated with this hospital. Best Jeanist will take the brunt of the responsibility if he makes a mistake, at the risk of both their licenses. He hasn’t done surgeries for a year or so, except when he stitched up Endeavor’s neck earlier and saved his life.

She doesn’t even know if he’s done this before. If he knows this type of procedure apart from reading books or watching what Momo has done all day.

But all Momo has to do is to look at Katsuki, his fiery gaze, his steady hands, the way his body pulses in pure determination. And she realizes that she can trust him on this, with all her heart.

So she does.

The laser-focus look in his eyes, the same one he had earlier, comes back. His hands move precisely, every minute motion with a purpose, without an ounce of hesitation. When he speaks because he needs something done it’s in his usual bark, but more concise, leaving no room for confusion.

They eventually close the patient up without further problems. Katsuki doesn’t look like he did his first neurosurgery after so long. When Kendo comes in he tells her exactly what needs to be done for the patient without any unnecessary fanfare.

One patient goes out…

Time passes; Dr. Kayama keeps telling them to rest, but Katsuki and Momo keep refusing. “No matter what happens, this is the last patient we’re operating on, for heaven’s sake. I’m not as young or as fired-up as you two,” she says, brandishing her fuzzy pen like a whip.

Katsuki replies to this with a precise, totally impolite tch. “We gotta keep goin’ as long as there are patients coming in, old hag.”

Her brow twitches in offense at this. She looks like she has half a mind to sedate him, but luckily Kendo comes in and tells them good news. “We transferred the remaining emergency cases out, and we have no urgent need to operate on anyone right now. Nice job, you two.”

Dr. Kayama sings a brief hallelujah and tells them that she’s going to sleep in one of the rooms outside. Meanwhile, Kendo tells the two of them to sit on the floor while she gives them updates on the world outside.

Momo obliges, and only feels then how sore her feet and lower back are. The floor isn’t or comfortable by any means, but it feels heavenly after hours and hours of standing up. Katsuki falls in next to her.

“I can’t believe you two took on so many cases after fighting out there,” she tells them. “Actually, everyone really pushed themselves today… Honenuki and Todoroki and Amajiki-senpai. Tetsu and the other guys from ortho. Even Shishida and Tsuyu-chan found a way from the blocked streets to get to the hospital and went straight to OR and just operated until the patients stopped coming.”

“What the fuck else are we supposed to do, Dr. Ponytail #2? This fuckin’ hospital is lucky that a lot of us are still standing after all those fuckin’ Nomu tried killing us all,” Katsuki snarls without volume or vitriol. Kendo laughs softly, apparently too tired to do anything else but to accept her new nickname.

“I dunno. All of you are on the verge of collapse, but are too stubborn to stop and rest. I mean, it’s heroic and all, but it’s pretty reckless, yeah?”

Kendo is one to talk. Momo heard talks of her and Tetsutetsu volunteering to transport much needed blood products via motorcycle while the Nomus were still ravaging the streets. She looks like she hasn’t had a moment to close her eyes since then, nor does it look like she intended to rest at all before this. Maybe this is the first moment she’s had to sit down too.

The orange-haired doctor sighs with a tired smile. “It’s been twenty-seven hours since the code, did you know that?”

Twenty-seven hours. Maybe that’s why the room looks sideways and a little unfocused.

“... Yaoyorozu?”

She decides then that Katsuki’s shoulder is a really nice place to rest her head, although she feels the stiffness of it when he shifts to put his arms around her as if to support her.

“‘M fine, Kendo-san,” she says. Or she tries to. She probably didn’t speak clearly enough, because her orange-haired friend doesn’t look like she understands what she says very well. “You were saying?”

The sturdy thing she’s leaning against--it’s Katsuki, of course, she knows it’s him, even though for some reason she can’t raise her head to look at him or confirm his presence just now--breathes deeply and shudders with the movement. “Doesn’t matter, Momo. Just stay there, all right?”

“That’s right.” She sees Kendo go sideways too, teal eyes fluttering closed. She should tell her friend that the floor’s not a cushion and she should find a better place to rest, but she can’t tell her otherwise because they’re eye-to-eye and it means that they’re in the same place after all. “Y’know… it’s a good idea if we stay here for a bit, right?... rest and all. Bakugou-kun, it’s fine if Momo and I are like this, right?”

“Mm.” The surgery suite’s floor isn’t that dirty, but definitely isn’t designed for anyone to take a nap on. Still, never has an idea sounded better to Momo. She knows she needs to shift her body this way or that way so her neck doesn’t strain or her back doesn’t get any more sore, but her arms don’t want to move. Her eyes don’t want to open. Her mouth doesn’t want to protest, not even when she feels something shift beside her and do the moving for her, leaving her curled up on the floor in what is probably an undignified heap.

She’s already dreaming by the time she’s wrapped in warmth and lifted to somewhere that makes her feel like she’s floating.

She wakes up from a dreamless sleep to softness and warmth and sunlight streaming through the windows.

She tries to rub her eyes, but feels something taped to the back of her hand. Flexes and stretches her fingers, feels the soreness of sleepiness as she does. She sees the line pierced through her skin, the bottle hooked to it. She wonders how she got there and who carried her there until she sees a head full of sandy blonde hair snoozing peacefully over the side of her bed.

She wants to smile for his presence, and frown as well--the IV line with the sugar solution flowing through it must be his doing. Really, she knows that she needs to rest after everything that’s happened, but he may be going a bit overboard.

He of all people needs sleep more than anyone, yet he’s doing it in such an uncomfortable and inefficient position. Still, he does so soundly, face relaxed as if secure, in the way that Momo loved to see.

Still, he should really take care of himself first and foremost. He of all people deserved to sleep on a bed after all that’s happened There’s room on the hospital bed for one more person. Even though it’s technically against protocol, she’s sure that Hosu Gen will let them sleep side by side, just this one time.

She runs a hand through deceptively soft blonde strands.

He sighs at the touch. It doesn’t take long before he’s already sitting up and blinking himself awake.

Bleary red eyes search hers. The natural scowl is on his face, but without the usual lion-like fierceness behind it. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he rasps out.

“Good morning, Katsuki.” She watches him for a while, allowing a small smile to form on her mouth as she watches him stretch and rub his eyes more awake. He looks exhausted, but different from the previous mornings they spent together. Calm, for some reason. “Is this your doing?”

He smirks as she holds up her hand with the IV line. “You don’t have any fat left on the rest of yer skinny ass. Gotta make sure you don’t die from the crash. Geez, you fuckin’ doctors really can’t take care of yourselves, huh?”

She raises one eyebrow at him. “You have some nerve, Bakugou Katsuki. Have you rested at all since...”

Wait, how long has it been already since she slept on the floor? Her sense of time gets challenged every now and then thanks to sleepless hospital shifts, but not to this extent. She fumbles for her phone on top of the side table and frowns. “... is this correct?”

Because if her eyes do not deceive her, it’s been three days since the Nomu attack; twenty seven hours spent in the operating room, and the rest of the time she spent knocked out cold, apparently.

Katsuki stretches and grunts in agreement. “Yeah… actually, most of you just slipped in a fuckin’ coma at the same time. Ponytail 2 did say that all of us fought with our quirks to get to the hospital, so it figures that we’d all crash since our bodies ain’t used to that kinda strain.”

Katsuki looks at her then, making her follow suit. She hasn’t had a chance to look at herself closely during the height of their operations, but it’s clear now how she’s literally skin and bones and on the verge of breaking apart.

How hideous. Suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, she covers her front with two thin arms. “I suppose you’re right. It was really reckless of us to act like heroes when we weren’t. We really put ourselves in danger, and--”

She stops speaking when Katsuki holds both her hand. She thought he’s been looking at her this entire time, but the way he does it now, with such intensity and emotion, makes her wonder how she hadn’t noticed his eyes the entire time.

“You’re a hero, Momo. One of the strongest ones there is,” he says in such a quiet voice that burns low in the center of her heart, making it catch flame.

You’re a hero, the words echo in her soul. She realizes then how long she longed for someone to tell her these words on a podium, in a ridiculous costume, in front of the most important people in the country.

She never imagined how much more meaningful it is to hear it in this disheveled state, while wearing a hospital gown, in front of one of the most important people in her life. Before she knows it, there are tears flowing out of the corners of her eyes and a smile working its way on her face.

Katsuki huffs, but smiles fondly as the tears flow. One hand rises to cup her face, thumb rubbing against the damp trail on one too-hollow cheek. “And definitely the most beautiful one on the face of this fuckin’ planet. So if you keep lookin’ at yourself like you’re a fuckin’ bog witch, then I’m forced to remind you otherwise.”

Her voice is wet when she giggle-sobs at his ridiculous words. “Remind me again, Katsuki.”

He obliges, and then puts his lips on hers and holds her close, like he means it.

And she knows he does, because his kiss and his touch and his breaths are gentle and soft, subtle and uncharacteristic of him that it’s almost unreal. Oddly enough she’s aware of him, his realness and his presence, the thoughts running through his mind, the throb of his pulse, the blood running through his veins. She feels all of him, and she feels right at home.

Safe and sound.

It only lasts a few moments. When they pull apart, she suddenly doesn’t feel as fragile as she ought to feel.

“That good enough for ya?”

She hums in assent. “I suppose, but you might have to remind me every now and then.”

She swears she isn’t being needy when she links her thin hands with his strong, searing ones. It’s just that she’s sure, more than ever, that she’d like it very much if he stayed right there next to her.

She might truly be falling in-love with him, after all.

(And this might be the first time the words are spoken in her mind so clearly.)

He looks like he has words to say by the way his eyes look soft, but they sharpen in the next second when someone clears their throat behind him.

“Oh. Awase-san. And Midoriya-san?”

How long have they been standing along the doorway like that? She hopes that it isn’t too long, but she thinks it might have been, by how Yosetsu is scowling at Katsuki and how pink-faced Midoriya is.

“What the fuck are you nerds hanging out there like a couple of perverts, huh?” Katsuki growls, but with less bite than Momo expects.

Yosetsu returns his glare, but fortunately looks disinterested in another fight. He points his thumb at the stammering Midoriya and tells them flatly, “I just got here to visit Yaoyorozu. Not sure ‘bout this guy though--looks like he’s been standing outside the door for a long while before I got here.”

“You shitty--”

“Ahh! K-kacchan! It’s not like that!” Midoriya flails helplessly as Katsuki advances, and it looks so comical that Momo barely suppresses a giggle. “I was going to--I mean, Best Jeanist called us both to, um, assist him again just now, but you and Yaoyorozu-san were… Um, I didn’t see anything, but--”

“Holy shit, shut up fuckin’ nerd!” Katsuki looks like he’s a half-step away from straight-out physically assaulting Midoriya, but thankfully he just looks meaningfully at Momo as if to say I’ll handle this and shoves his hands in his scrubsuit pockets. “Is it a fuckin’ emergency? Just go right in and spit it next time already, you damn nerd!”

“S-sorry, Kacchan! Ah, it’s fine, the patient’s on the way up from ER, so anyway let me tell you about the case first…”

The unlikely duo begins to make their way out of the room, inexplicably amicable despite the profanities, as if the past hanging off their shoulders weighed absolutely nothing. Momo watches Katsuki’s back and all his easy confidence and feels more than enough comfort from it.

“So,” Yosetsu says with a lopsided smile, after a moment of silence spent staring after Katsuki’s shadow, “you love him yet?”

Momo’s face instantly warms, her mouth falling open stupidly at his flat, questioning gaze. “I--Awase-san, what are you--”

He sighs in mock exasperation. “So you don’t? What’s that smitten look on your face for, if not ‘cause of that bastard?”

She shakes her head free of her blush. “I--please, don’t call him a bastard, Awase-san. It’s unseemly and unfair, because he’s strong and kind and earnest and--”

“--and you’re in-love with him.”

She puffs her cheeks when he laughs at her undignified sputtering. After she recovers from it, she gives him her best haughty look and clears her throat. “And if I am? It’s… it’s not improper of me to feel this way about him, is it?”

“Of course not.” Yosetsu sits at her bedside and looks at her warmly. “For what it’s worth, Momo… I’m glad you found a guy like him. As weird as it is for me to say.”

He’s as straightforward and sincere as he’s ever been. It’s amusing that he is, and that he isn’t threatening violence for once, considering the subject of their odd conversation. “What do you mean by a guy like him?”

He hums. “Well… It’s not like I liked that guy from the start. He’s the biggest fuckin’ jerk on the get-go, he called you Dr. Ponytail in front of the whole hospital, he looks like he thinks of himself too highly--he’s just as obnoxious as Monoma, for cryin’ out loud, and that’s saying something--and worst of all he pulled that shit with you before…”

It’s funny that he looks like he’s thinking over his words carefully to be considerate as he says one insult after another. Momo would feel offended for Katsuki, but she knows that Yosetsu’s got a point to make at the end of all this.

“… and on top of that, the two of you together is just fuckin’ chaotic. I don’t know what the heck is up with you guys, pulling the shit you did with Endeavor and against those Nomus. You could have died, you know? And if it weren’t for the police being preoccupied during the time, you could both be facing charges for public usage of quirk--”

She flinches and apologizes weakly. Why is he scolding her out of nowhere, weren’t they talking about how Katsuki is good for her? Maybe she should interrupt him now because it is taking him a while to get to the point.

“But… you know, despite all that, somehow he brought out the best in you, and vice versa.” He finally gives a thoughtful huff and looks at her in the eye. “When I saw you working by his side, I was sure that the you I knew back then is different from the you now. I dunno how, but you’re definitely stronger than before.”

She laughs weakly. “You all say that, but look at me.” She waves her hands briefly, showing off the IV line hooked to her vein.

He looks at her, small and frail in her hospital gown, and doesn’t bat an eyelash. “So?”

She sighs. “I almost died doing those reckless things… I probably caused a lot of trouble as well.”

“But you didn’t,” he says bluntly. “I’d say that’s pretty strong. And the fact that the bastard being with you somehow got those two blockheads to kiss and make-up… I’d say that’s monster-tier levels of amazing.”

She scrunches her eyebrows. “Those two--you mean, Midoriya-san and Katsuki are…”

Yosetsu’s face flashes in annoyance briefly. “Yeah. Dunno what the hell happened since I was also out cold when those two talked, but when I woke up they were already working together and taking on some of the emergency cases with Jeanist.” He leans forward with a look on his face designed to annoy. “So… looks like he’s aspiring to be less of an intolerable asshole? Sounds like love to me, Yaoyorozu.”

The blood returns to her face with a vengeance. Much to her chagrin, he notices this and laughs at her obnoxiously. And he accuses Katsuki of arrogance!

“You’re as annoying as ever, Awase-san,” Momo says, not without affection.

If it’s true though, she’d feel so very ridiculously proud of Katsuki for letting go of his pride and resentment, and she’d have to give in to the impulse to kiss him on his silly face all over. Seems she has a lot of questions to ask of him after all this is over, it seems.

“Well, you got the rest of your lives, I guess?” Yosetsu stands up and stretches. “As for me, it’s enough for me to see that you’re alive and that Kendo and Tetsutetsu have nothing to worry about. Sorry for you, expect some noisy visitors later.”

Speaking of which, hasn’t it been a while since the four of them were in the same room together? Things are so different from medical school, so much more painful than any of them expected, but all of the unexpected changes are worth it.

She smiles warmly at him. “Thanks for visiting, Yosetsu.”

He gives her a lopsided grin and holds her shoulder--a gesture so familiar and affectionate in a different way from Katsuki’s, but not any less valuable.

“Take care, Momo,” he tells her in all sincerity before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The operation is simple enough, and after two hours Hakamata leaves the field to write his post-op notes in the chart. It’s not his usual habit to leave closing the operative site to trainees, since stitching shit up is kind of his thing and he’s famously anal when it comes to doing it with such precision as to leave minimal scars, but after responding to the code even the denim bitch must be feeling a tad too tired to do things in his usual annoying way.

It’s about fuckin’ time that the bastard trusted his juniors with these simple tasks, but unfortunately it leaves Katsuki alone with the fuckin’ nerd to close up the drugged little kid’s head together.

He wordlessly takes the lead suturing up the patient, grunting every so often when he needs Deku to do something. The green-haired nerd complies each time, sniffing and shaking like a snotty kid who watched the entirety of The Land Before Time.

What the hell. Who cries when doing surgeries? Katsuki thought that the year without him yelling insults in the background might have been better for the nerd emotionally, but it looks like you can’t outgrow being a fucking crybaby if you’ve been that way all your shitty life.

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he says, as a helpful nurse wipes his tears before they fall in the sterile site. “It’s just.. I can’t believe we’re working together again, it’s been so long, I didn’t think you’d come back, and now you are, and--”

And ain’t it just peachy that Deku’s extra emotional after everything that’s happened. “Shut the fuck up, Deku. We’re still working, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I know, sorry,” he says, still sniffling. “I mean… I really didn’t know what to do earlier, you know. I didn’t mean to do it--I thought you would hate me for it, but I really had to --”

Katsuki’s mouth twitches under his mask. “You mean punching the lights out of the administrator who talked shit to me and told me to get the fuck out or kiss my license goodbye? While wearing a robot suit made by fuckin’ Ingenium’s engineer? While crying like the fucking useless nerd you are?”

He looks like he’s on the verge of another loud nervous breakdown complete with tears that will rival the Niagara falls, but the nerd manages to keep it together. “Y-yeah! I mean--the robot suit thing was just, um… I needed to use it to fight when the Nomus were out there, you know, ‘cause I’m quirkless and they were really strong and the rehab center had a lot of patients in it but--”

If he mutters any more, Katsuki would bark at the circulating nurse to punch the living daylights out of the fucking nerd.

“... anyway, I know you hate it when other people speak for you,” Deku says, not bothering to say that he’s learned it the hard way after all these years, “but at the time, I really had to do it, Kacchan! He was telling you that you were worthless and you had no right to be here and who knows if you can handle the pressure?”

Katsuki snorts. The administrator’s fuckin’ wrong, of course, but he had a point. He only had Jeanist to back him up, but to the rest of them he’s just a general practitioner whose license is expiring next year.

Besides, hearing those things isn’t new--he’s had to listen to iterations of those words from his superiors back in Musutafu, and most of all from himself.

And in a way, he’s had to hear it from shitty fuckin’ Deku, who treated him like he’s a fragile little butterfly who would keel over any given second. Always saying shit like you looked like you needed help, not trusting that Katsuki knew how to take care of himself. It’s very hard to let go of all the built up shame and resentment over the years, but…

“... but I know you! You’re super capable and smart and nobody knew what they were talking about,” the nerd says with a fierce determination. “I mean… you aren’t weak or worthless, Kacchan. You’re totally the opposite of it, and it sucked that no-one listened…”

He never knew how to handle praise from this shitty nerd who says one embarrassing thing after another. If this were a manga he’d have torn his shitty speech balloon to shreds with his fangs, if he had to. Still, this isn’t that type of story, and so he had to settle with a snarl and an insult. “Fucking hell, don’t go around punching people just because they talk shit! Only I get to do that! What kind of idiot are you?!”

It certainly was a shocking sight to see. Katsuki’s aggravated that the nerd just had to decide to grow balls and act out against authority after years of better opportunities and reasons to do so.

(And more aggravating is the tiny part of Katsuki that thinks that it looked fuckin’ badass, tears and all. What the fuck. He’ll never say so out loud.)

“Sorry, Kacchan,” he says for the hundredth time, and it just gets more annoying each time, but he manages to continue the sutures. “I’ll never do that again, promise! I’m just happy that you aren’t as mad at me anymore and you gave me a chance to work with you again.”

They cut the last of the sutures. Katsuki cleans the area briefly before covering it up with gauze. “Don’t get me wrong, shithead. I still can’t stand your guts.”

His voice is quiet when he says this, without the usual piping hot vitriol underlining the words.

“And I’m workin’ with you ‘cos half the workforce is still recovering and we got no choice,” he continues, avoiding how Deku brightens up noticing how not-angry his voice is. Fucking hell. “After this I ain’t operating again. Not like I have any right to.”

Deku looks like he’s about to protest, but a haughty voice beats him to it. “Is that so, Dr. Bakugou? And here I thought you were regaining your conviction once more.”

He jerks violently as Best Jeanist ambles up to them in that usual self-assured way of his, the way that makes him wish that a tornado would come and muss up his stupid 3/4 partitioned hair. “What the fuck did you expect me to do, Denim Fucker? Did ya think I can go back to operating just ‘cause you want me to?”

“Yes,” the bastard replies shamelessly. “More importantly, you seemed like you were on your way back in this world. Am I wrong to assume that this,” he gestures plainly to the patient sleeping underneath the drapes, witless of the life-threatening blood clot they removed over her brain, “is something that you truly wanted to do, and that you did not just merely comply to my selfish wishes?”

Katsuki growls. “Fuck you! I ain’t here just ‘cause your pansy ass ordered me to be here, okay?! I’m here because I belong here!”

And it’s true--he stepped back into this world after a year of avoiding it simply because lives were at stake. He didn’t tell Momo back then, but he was scared shitless when he stood in the almost-empty suite for the first time in a long time. But he got into the groove of things easier and more naturally than he thought, and before he knew it he was taking the scalpel from her shaking hands and doing things he didn’t think he’d ever be doing again.

And, fuck if it didn’t feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

It doesn’t matter though. He’s only allowed here because the hospital is desperate, and also because the shitty nerd punched the lights out of anyone who tried to stop him. Still, after things have settled down properly, any self-respecting hospital shouldn’t allow him into an operating room. He doesn’t have enough training, nothing to show for the knowledge and technique he honed for the past years.

It isn’t that fucking simple as this fucker says, and he knows it.

“That’s all I need to know.” Dr. Hakamata’s mouth is obscured behind that ridiculous denim collar, but dare he say it, the crease in his eyes makes it look he’s smiling and not sneering like the world’s prissiest bastard, for once.

Before Katsuki can cuss him out again, the tall doctor flaps a thin folder briefly in front of him and the stunned Deku and drops it at a nearby table. “Application forms,” he explains, when neither of them can think of any coherent words to say. “Get this ready by next week, after which I expect you seven AM sharp in the doctor’s call room the following Monday.”

Katsuki makes a confused sound similar to a cat whose tail is being stepped on and blurts out, “What the f--are you shitting me?! It was pretty clear that Musutafu wasn’t gonna take me back--”

“It can’t be,” stammers Deku, eyes wide. “D-do you mean that they changed their minds?”

“No,” answers Best Jeanist plainly. “But you are being considered for a position as a pediatric surgery fellow here, in Hosu General Hospital with my highest recommendation.”

Bakugou’s jaw is hanging stupidly at this point, but thankfully his face is still covered by a mask.

“You have a lot of questions. We have a lot of details to iron out. I get it.” Jeanist walks closer to him, voice unnervingly gentle and mentoring and it’s enough to disorient Katsuki. “All you have to know at this point is this: as unruly as you and your hair are, Dr. Bakugou, I have a lot of faith in you. You’ve proven that you can help a lot of people, and I would like to give you another chance to get you to the place where you can do that without people telling you that you can’t.”

A hand is placed on his shoulder without hesitation. It’s weird, but that point of contact carries with it a surge of gratitude that his unruly self does not know how to handle.

“Hands off,” he grumbles with a flinch. After rearranging his thoughts and trying not to explode from the sheer confusion of it all, he manages to mumble, “You aren’t just shitting me, right? This chance is real, right?”

Dr. Hakamata, the Fucker Who Believes, shrugs. “All that’s left is for you to take it.”

He leaves the operating room after that. That piece of shit Deku starts to cry again and would have thrown his arms around Katsuki bawling if the blonde didn’t shove him off with another threat. He babbles excitedly about Katsuki being back in action before he volunteers to take care of the patient, you know, so he could work on the forms.

Katsuki leaves without another word, head spinning from lack of sleep and confusion and outright exhilaration and he does not know what to do about all of this. Folder in hand, he wanders the bright hallways of the hospital and somehow makes it to the room he left earlier.

He enters the room and finds Momo sleeping quietly on crisp, white sheets. She’s still thin, the hospital gown loose around her shoulders. IV’s still dripping quietly next to her bed. There’s clutter next to her table: black coffee and flowers and packages of sweets probably brought by her friends, making her look like a proper patient who needs care.

Other than those trifling details, she looks absolutely ethereal as she sleeps. Moonlight falls through glass and onto raven hair and lashes and onto pink lips that his eyes can’t stop focusing on.

He drops on the chair next to the bed, quietly searches for her hand under the sheets. Holds it softly, firmly. Memorizes the shape of it against his.

Is this how it feels like to have things fall into place?

The surge of bothersome things don’t stop. He tries to sleep and finds himself resting his head next to her lovely hand, and inhales her jasmine scent.

After another twenty-four hours spent entertaining noisy visitors (the noisiest of them being Tetsutetsu, who tells Momo of how he punched Nomus in steel form while riding at the back of Kendo’s Harley-Davidson), eating hearty meals, and holding Katsuki’s hand throughout the night, Momo is officially discharged from Hosu Gen with no other prescriptions than proper rest, a healthy diet, and exercise.

The code has been terminated for more than twenty-four hours now, with enough manpower to run the parts of the hospital not damaged by the attacks. Amajiki-senpai orders Momo to rest at home for another twenty-four hours despite her protests. This time, Katsuki doesn’t fight back and drags her out of the hospital with his best efforts.

The sun hangs low over the city when Katsuki walks Momo back to her home across the street. Along the way, they see Kaminari and Jirou waving from inside the cafe. Besides the missing panes of glass and the repairs going around the street, they work as if nothing happened.

“‘S a miracle they haven’t burned the place down yet,” grumbles Katsuki as he glares at them in acknowledgment.

Momo giggles. “Trust in them. They’ll be running the cafe for you in two weeks, right?”

It’s no exaggeration that her heart feels more than full hearing that Katsuki was offered a position in Hosu Gen, and he accepted it without an ounce of hesitation. She heard of the odd story involving Midoriya-san after it, and even though it involves some violence in their green-haired colleague’s part, she promised herself to treat him to more meat pies from Monoma’s out of sheer gratitude.

“Tch. Might as well say goodbye to it. If that pikashit runs it, it’s goin’ down in no time.” It’s odd, but there’s a certain fondness to the way he says it. Momo knows that he’s leaving his beloved cafe to them with a clear conscience.

In a short while they’ve made it to her building, and into her unit after that. She missed this place; she realizes this the moment she steps in. She missed her couch, her kitchen with her fridge full of take-out, her shower, her bed--

She feels Katsuki’s forehead against the nape of her neck, feels his arms wrap around her torso. Feels the surge of warmth over her skin and all over her, inside out, when he kisses her and breathes words against her skin.

“What was that, Katsuki?” She turns around to look at him.

Once again she’s reminded that he’s here with her--warm, in one piece, breathing. Sense of purpose burning within. Moving forward with her.

Those eyes of his search hers in the sunlight-stained space between them, glinting like precious rubies.

He smiles in that intoxicatingly devilish way of his and puts his mouth over hers, repeating the three words in a murmur that resonates within her very soul. The words come out of nowhere and they surprise her, but she melts into them, melts into him so naturally, continuously learning that she feels the same way, and this is where she belongs.

She understands him and she tells him so, and kisses him back.

Now it feels like home.

-end-

#bakumomo #bakugou katsuki #yaoyorozu momo #ruby red and caramel #bnha fic #what the hell did i actually finish this #skdjf;lksajfgs;alkjgfsa

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matamisin · 6 years

Text

Internship Part 2

TW: DARK THEMES

Aizawa ran down the halls with Toshinori trailing him. They knew, they just knew, that in the dorms his class was watching the whole fight.

Toshinori had connected his phone to a radio station, which continued broadcasting the event unlike the tv. He kept updated, listening to the reports.

As they came closer, they could hear them. Some were wrecked with worry and tears. Some were angry and in disbelief. Particularly, Bakugou.

Upon entering, Bakugou and Kirishima were just about to run off as they rushed towards the doors.

“Don’t go, you two, stay here,” Aizawa ordered.

“Don’t go? Don’t go?! How can we not go, Sero needs help!” Kirishima argued.

Toshinori stepped forward, holding a hand up. “ The radio’s still updating on the situation. Soon after the cameras cut off, they reported that the Nomu took off.. unfortunately, it took the other intern with it.”

“What?!” Some of the class exclaimed, further stressed at such a disastrous situation. Bakugou, on the other hand, gave a harsh grunt and curse under his breath at the news.

“What about Sero?”

“Have they updated on him, Sir?!”

“They’re.. ah they’re currently trying to extract young Sero from the rubble. They have paramedics on scene, and a member has a portal quirk- we requested for them to bring him to our hospital on campus.”

Uraraka peaked up, looking over the couch as she sat up on her knees.

“Sir! Can we please go wait for them there?”

The two teachers looked at her, then at the other students who all waited for their response. Clearly they were concerned and stressed beyond belief for their classmate and wanted to see him ASAP, and they, too, felt similarly.

“I’m sorry but-”

“Please! We promise to stay out of their way! Promise!” They pleaded.

Aizawa huffed out. He stood quietly for a few seconds. “Alright. Just stay out of their way so they can get Sero medical attention immediately.”

And so they went, travelling as a group towards the medical center of UA.

Some of the students stuck together in clumps, comforting those that were overwhelmed by the shock and worry. Others walked farther apart from the group, isolated to their own thoughts.

When they arrived, the building was mostly empty, aside from some staff that sat behind the desks.

The students lingered around, some sat down in the chairs they had available while some just simply stood, somewhere just as long as they didn’t block the entrance, waiting for their classmate to arrive. They talked quietly among themselves as they waited. And waited. And waited.

And finally, after a few minutes, the sound of whirring came from outside, accompanied by a bright green light. They could suddenly hear far voices that were loud as if they were shouting at one another. They could hear the stretcher moving towards the hospital, as it hovered above the ground and carried those who held on to it to allow for faster travel.

The teens stood up, all gathering behind their teachers who stood at the side of the doors.

Finally, the doors opened, and the sounds were no longer muffled.

“Tell the staff to prepare the operation room!”

“Have a defibrillator on standby please!”

“C'mon, Sero, we’re here, we’re here, you’ll be alright!” Kamui said, as he rode with the stretcher and looked over Sero.

They rushed past the group, but amidst the urgency and commotion, some could see the black-haired boy.

There he lay, strapped to the stretcher with a mask covering the bottom of his face. His head and neck, too, were in a brace. But the main worry they could see was the blood that covered his head, that leaked and trickled down and practically soaked his chest and shoulders. Where his head lay, there was the faintest puddle.

At sight, Bakugou tried to run forward, but was stopped by Kirishima.

“Katsuki, no, they have to get him help now!”

The blond shot him a look, that stopped Kirishima’s heart for the slightest second. His eyes were full of anger that was so strong it covered up all trace of his worry. But his brows furrowed unsurely, as if he was trying to keep in tears at the same time. But they refused to come out. Now wasn't the time.

Kirishima knew then, that Bakugou was hurting. He was pained and furious at something. But it wasn’t for himself. He let his arm down, and Bakugou ran.

The hospital staff had already gone through the doors with Sero, and all that remained was a man from the paramedic team and pro hero. The two moved to block the oncoming teenager, but let down their guard when he stopped suddenly a few feet in front of them.

“Kamui Woods,” he growled, his voice low and refusing to allow any bit of emotion out. “Where’s your other intern.”

Kamui’s eyes widened, the memory playing back in his mind. He looked to the side shamefully.

“He.. he was taken by the Nomu.”

“Like hell he was!” Bakugou yelled angrily, slamming a fist against the wall to his side.

“Young Bakugou, what is this all about?” All Might questioned as he stepped towards him.

Bakugou turned sharply to face the others in the room, a look so fierce it stopped All Might in his tracks.

“Didn’t any of you see?!” He shouted aggressively, his fist still on the wall, and visibly holding back trembles.

“Katsuki..?” Kaminari said quietly.

“Nobody saw?! None of you saw the blood?!”

Confusion filled the air as Kamui raised his head up. He looked at the young man, pressing further.

“What?”

“Look back at a recording, dammit!” He inhaled sharply, “There's something not adding up- there was a shit ton of blood on Sero before he even got in contact with the Nomu! And there's no fucking way in hell he got that from his rough landing!"

"Bakugou, what are you suggesting?"

"I don't know that bastard's quirk entirely," he snarled as his fists clenched tighter, "but I know he had something to do with it!"

“Only if they’re unconscious.”

Everyone turned to the voice. Kamui, who was looking into the nothingness of the floor, held his hands out in front of him.

“It’s.. it’s highly possible.”

"Kamui? What are you talking about?"

Kamui pulled up one of the chairs, plopping down on it as he held his head in his hands.

"Moji can't control people."

". . ."

"Bu-But.. He can manipulate bodies."

Aizawa's eyes widened slightly as he pieced the information together, but remained unsure of his assumptions. "So you mean.."

Kamui glanced up. "He can only manipulate people if they're unconscious."

Small gasps of realization came from the group, as more and more came together. Those that remained in clouded confusion remained silent, waiting to listen on.

“At the scene when we were trying to get Sero out of the rubble,” Kamui looked up at the crowd in front of him. “They found his helmet. It was extraordinarily cracked and broken and had blood on it. I don’t doubt it would be Sero’s blood now, if that’s true. Because if it is, that means,” a pause.

“That means Moji used it to give Sero such severe head trauma to knock him unconscious and control his body.”

"To make it look like Sero was acting out recklessly."

Bakugou hit his fist against the wall again, multiple time as the loud banging grew louder and louder with each word. "That intern wasn't taken by the Nomu, he was a damn dirty double-crosser! He made that whole scene look like a tragic crush against the League!"

“That explains the injury!” the paramedic member added. “That injury couldn’t have been sustained from the rubble because there was no piece of debris found that looked like it could have caused it.”

Aizawa turned to the paramedic. “If you still have contact with the police that were on scene- tell them to look in on this. I will too, and have that intern found.”

“I’ll contact them, Aizawa. For now, you stay here and wait for the doctors to come and tell how Sero’s doing,” Kamui said, standing up, but refusing to hold confidence in his body. He hunched forward, head down.

“This was all because of my reckless guiding. If I had only noticed earlier, your student wouldn’t have been so hurt. Please,” he bowed to the two UA teachers and all the students in front of him. “Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Toshinori put a hand on his shoulder and patted him comfortingly. “Kamui, it’s not your fault. We’ll talk to officials about your situation. Everything will be alright.”

“I.. th-thank you, All Might, sir.”

---

It had been a few hours since Sero was brought into the hospital. Most of the class still lingered around, including the two adults. Some would leave every now and then to get some air or to get some food for the others. But now it was night, and the moon was out brightly. All of the teens were asleep, having brought pillows and blankets to share as they refused to leave. So there they fell asleep on the ground, as they waited for their friend, surrounding the two teachers who also ended up sitting on the floor.

Finally, a doctor came through the doors, blood staining the gloves he was pulling off his hands.

Toshinori and Aizawa made haste, moving out from tangles of limbs as they made sure to not wake any of the students. The doctor pulled them to the side, into a hallway to speak to them.

“How is young Sero’s condition?”

The doctor pulled down his mask, his eyes full of sorrow.

“It took a while to get him stable, and he is now, thankfully. However,” he paused. After a few seconds of thinking, he moved, motioning the two to follow him into the room.

There was their student, laying unconscious in a hospital bed and hooked up to multiple tubes and machines. His head was wrapped in bandages, making his hair stick out messily. His chest, too, was wrapped, and a tube slipped into the wrapping.

The left of his head was slightly swollen, and still had dried blood smeared on. The top of his left eye was darkened, most likely bruised from the head injury. A transparent mask, tinted a light green, went over his mouth and nose and its straps went around his head.

"However?"

The doctor gulped, taking the two by the shoulders as his grip tensed.

"The.. The other doctors and I aren't too sure of the chances of your student pulling through, or ever being the same again, if he miraculously lives."

The two stood, silenced. Toshinori felt his heart sink from the heavy words, and could not utter a single word.

"If he does manage to pull through, there's.. There's still so much heavy damage that his brain and body took- there's no doubt there will be repercussions. He may have lost memories, he may be unable to fully function well again. He may be bedridden for the rest of his life. It’s just too much to not have caused any sort permanent damage."

The doctor pulled himself closer to the two, using them as supports to stand as he held his head low in a bow between their shoulders.

"I'm very sorry."

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glittermork · 5 years

Text

Modern Royalty AU pt. 3

part 1 part 2

Summary: Jaemin’s mom is suing the king.

(Alternatively: Renjun and Jeno finally have that talk they’ve been meaning to get to for the last three months, and Jaemin is alive.)

Jaemin hasn’t woken up in a hospital since he was seven and his father bashed an empty soju bottle over his skull. Back then, the scar had been cool and the schoolwork he’d missed was easily made up. His mother had been by his side crying when he’d woken up. His father had given him ten bucks and the new Spider-Man comic for lying to the nurse about how he’d gotten hurt.

Roughly sixteen years later, he wakes up to the sound of someone sobbing.

“Hnnngnhghn,” he says, and the sobbing stops with a choked gasp.

Jaemin peels one eye open and regrets it immediately. Sitting on Jaehyun’s lap on the left side of his bed is Taeyong. (Fuck. Jaemin doesn’t know how to deal with people when they cry! This isn’t part of his job!)

“Oh shit, he’s awake,” he hears Jaehyun mumble, and he just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, (mostly because he suspects that it would really fucking hurt), as he struggles to sit up. Unfortunately, this is also the exact moment his body decides to let him know that there is a bullet hole in his fucking torso, and maybe he should take that into consideration when he tries to make any sudden movements.

Collapsing on the bed in an uncoordinated flop, Jaehyun smirks at him and Taeyong frowns. “Lay back down, you dummy,” Taeyong sniffles, collecting himself from his boyfriend’s lap. Jaemin would spare a thought to wonder why he’s not worried about being caught, if it didn’t feel like his entire body was on fire. He should probably stop jumping in front of bullets.

“Na Jaemin,” Taeyong begins his lecture, and Jaemin groans. “Do you have ANY IDEA how fucking worried we were about you? You almost died on the operating table! TWICE! I thought we were really going to lose you the second time! What the fuck!”

“I almost died again? Jesus,” Jaemin mutters.

Taeyong splutters. “The fuck do you mean—AGAIN?!”

“You know I had a job before this, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but—you know what? No. Shut up. I was worried! And I thought your mom was going to actually strangle my dad and—“

“Hold up, my mother is here?”

Taeyong stares back at him blankly. “You got shot, Jaemin. Of course she came.”

“Your mom is, like, really fucking mad at you, by the way,” Jaehyun says. Jaemin assumes he’s just here for Taeyong’s emotional support.

“Shut up, Jae,” Taeyong groans, drying his tears on his boyfriend’s sweater. “I’m gonna go get a nurse. Play nice or I’m not putting out for a month.”

“Damn,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath, and sits back down in his chair next to Jaemin’s bed. “Seriously, though, kid, the doctor handed your mom your nipple piercings in a plastic bag ‘cuz I guess they had to take them out for surgery or some shit and she fucking, lost her mind.”

“Great! Thanks, Jaehyun! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, two minutes after waking up from a coma!”

“I didn’t know you had nipple piercings,” he continues, and Jaemin thinks this is maybe the last conversation he’d like to be having right now. He’s tired. and he misses Jeno and Renjun. “Aren’t you, like, five? I didn’t know they let toddlers get nipple piercings?”

“First of all, I’m twenty-three,” Jaemin grumbles, glaring at him. “And I’ve had them since I was eighteen, so fuck you.”

Jaehyun holds his hands up defensively. “Hey, you do you, man, all I’m saying is—“

Jeno and Renjun, of course, decide that it’s the appropriate moment to make an appearance. Seriously, fuck his fucking life. The door flies open, and standing there, in all their slightly-haggard, stayed-at-the-hospital-for-over-24-hours-glory, are the two (2) loves of his life. Jaemin kind of wants to go back to sleep.

“Fucking hell, Nana,” Renjun mumbles, and promptly bursts into tears. Jeno looks mildly alarmed but he’s also holding up his boyfriend with one arm and staring at his other boyfriend (they really need to have that talk) in a hospital bed, so, whatever. Together they sort of half-limp-drag-walk to the unoccupied side of Jaemin’s bed, and now Jaemin has to fight the urge to cry as well. So maybe getting shot is god-awful, but as long as these two are safe, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Please never do that again,” Jeno breathes, and buries his face in Jaemin’s neck. Jaemin wonders if maybe this is some sort of punishment from god or whoever the fuck is up there, for falling in love with the prince and the prince’s boyfriend. There’s no other explanation for why they’re both climbing into his bed, and crying on his shoulders and holding his fucking hands.

“Um. What is happening here?” Jaemin asks Jaehyun, who is currently taking pictures of them for his blackmail folder.

Jaehyun gives Jaemin the most deadpan look, and sighs. “There’s no hope for you.”

He’s about to make a weak retort, when Taeyong, followed by a line of medical professionals, the king, and his mother, burst into the room.

Jaemin sighs. It’s going to be a long morning.

—

“What I don’t understand,” his mother is saying, but Jaemin hasn’t been listening since she started ranting about the Pride photos again. “Is why you didn’t think to tell me that boys you were in love with were the prince that you’re supposed to be guarding and his boyfriend?”

Jaemin shrugs half-heartedly, and licks another spoonful of pudding. They’ve gone over this four times already. He wants to take a nap. He misses his. . . .charges. (Are Jeno and renjun considered his charges? Is that the right word for it? Does he need to maybe cool it with the pain meds? Yeah, probably.)

“Could you keep your voice down?” He winces, and glances out the door. It would honestly be the cherry-on-top of the bullshit-sundae, if he got fired for being in love with Jeno and Renjun after he quite literally just took a bullet for them. Maybe it’s what he deserves.

“Oh, shut up,” his mom rolls her eyes, brushing a lock of Jaemin’s hair out of his eyes, and kissing his forehead. “You know they love you back, right, baby?”

“Mom, I—“

“No, you listen to me, Na Jaemin.“ Shit, she full-named him. “Those two boys have been here since the moment you were admitted. They’ve been crying over you all night and all morning and if you think that doesn’t mean they love you too, you’ve got another thing coming, honey.”

“Mom,” he sighs, and closes his eyes. The Academy didn’t train him for this. “They love each other. I’m sure they were just worried about me because we’re friends. Or they felt guilty that I took a bullet for them. Which they shouldn’t, it’s my fucking job. I’m probably just—reading too far into things. They’ve been in love since they were, like, infants, you know? I can’t mess that up. And I don’t want to.”

His mom gives him an unreadable look, and huffs, shaking her head. “you always were too stubborn for your own good, baby,” she says, and pats his thigh.

“Mom,” he sighs, and hides his face in the sweatshirt Jeno had given him because ‘I know you get cold easily’, (Jaemin had practically swooned right on the spot). He’d looked nervously to Renjun after that comment, but the older boy was just smiling affectionately at both of them, hand easily continuing to stroke the hair at the nape of Jaemin’s neck, his other resting clasped with Jeno’s over Jaemin’s lap. The entire morning had felt unreal.

“Jaemin,” his mom sighs back in the same tone of voice, and gives his sweatshirt a pointed look.

So maybe they do have some things to work out. But he just can’t get his hopes up. He’s doesn’t know what he’ll do if they get crushed.

“Don’t give me that look,” he blushes, tugging the hood over his greasy hair, and grimacing. “When’s the soonest I can take a shower?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck replies, poking his head into the room to announce his arrival. “You should’ve thought of that before you jumped in front of a bullet, idiot.”

“Hyuck!” Jaemin grins, making grabby hands at the giant plushie Hyuck is balancing with a bouquet of sunflowers and what looks like the entire boxed set of Buffy DVDs Jaemin keeps in the back of his closet.

“What’s up, Nana,” he grins, handing his mother the flowers and setting the DVDs on his bedside table. “How’s my favorite little bodyguard doing?”

“Shut up, Hyuck,” Jaemin rolls his eyes, hugging the soft bumblebee plushie to his chest. “I'm guessing the flowers are from your other thirds?”

“Yeah, Mark said sorry he couldn’t be here, poor baby’s been arguing with the charity ball security team all morning. The plushie is from Jisung, though.”

“Yikes,” Jaemin winces, “tell him I’m sorry I can’t be there to help him. And I know it’s from Jisung, I got his for him for his birthday last year.”

Hyuck shrugs. “I forgot about your weird symbiotic relationship. Anyway, clean up is Mark’s best skill, Nana. Besides, you should tell him yourself—he hasn’t stopped anxiety-ing over you all morning.”

“Tell him the flowers are lovely, too!” His mother interjects, gathering her purse and jacket and kissing him on the forehead. “I’m gonna go get lunch and find that dumbass king of yours—“ “Mom! Promise me you won’t—“ “I’m not promising anything!” She finishes, calling over her shoulder as she swings out the door. Jaemin would be assed to stop her if he didn’t already know what a losing fight looked like.

Hyuck rolls his eyes, and peels open Jaemin’s other pudding. Jaemin just barely suppresses the urge to pout.

“What kind of shit are they feeding you in here, anyway?” He asks, licking the lid, and Jaemin slumps back onto his pillows.

“Mush.”

“Gross. Okay! I’m done with small talk, time for the real reason why I’m here: you took a fucking bullet for them.”

“Hyuuuuck,” he whines, smashing his face back into the bumblebee plushie to avoid Hyuck’s knowing gaze. “Can’t you just be a normal visiting friend and tell me I was brave or some shit?”

“Fine. You were brave! And incredibly fucking stupid! Now, please tell me how you call that ‘a little crush that I’ll get over eventually’?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Jaemin mumbles into the pillow, “it’s kind of my fucking job.”

Hyuck sighs dramatically, and plops down on the newly-vacated chair. “Hopeless,” he mutters, and shoves another spoonful of low-fat pudding in his mouth.

—

The nurses had cut him off after two seasons of Buffy, so Jaemin and Hyuck had elected to play quiet music and talk about food. A subject neither of them could ever grow tired of.

Hyuck’s not really sure how that turned into this.

There are tears streaming down Jaemin’s face. It’s only two in the afternoon. The Weekend by SZA is playing for the sixth time in a row. Hyuck is five seconds away from murdering him in cold blood. His bullet wound kind of throbs but maybe it’s just his heart breaking into a million pieces.

“You’re not a side hoe,” Hyuck groans, snatching Jaemin’s phone and turning it off.

“Fuck you,” he sniffles, leaning back on the crinkly hospital pillows, “I’m a home wrecker. And I’m ugly.”

“You’re so incorrect about both of those things that I’m not gonna even respond to that! Okay, I think that’s enough phone-time. How about we just talk, okay? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jaemin sniffs. “Maybe,” he admits, sinking slowly into his pillow pile until the only visible part of him is his hair sticking out like an unruly tree branch.

Hyuck snorts. “Do you want to go to take a nap, baby?”

“Shut up.” Jaemin replies, and promptly passes out.

“Absolutely fucked,” Hyuck sighs to himself as he tucks the younger boy in.

—

Renjun has never been certain of anything as much as he and Jeno.

JenoJenoJeno. He could talk about him for days on end. He could wax-poetic about his eyesmile and his teeth and his hands for the rest of his life. Really, he plans to. Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. The boy he’s loved for as long as he can remember.

And while Jeno is lovely and beautiful and Renjun’s very best friend in the entire world, he has a tendency to hang off Renjun’s every word. And while that’s, admittedly, fantastic, it’s not always what Renjun needs. Sometimes he needs someone to push back. Someone who can meet him blow for blow. Someone who’s not afraid to talk back.

In other words, Renjun needs Jaemin.

JaeminJaeminJaemin. His ears, his nose, his cheeks. Renjun could think about him for hours—days—weeks, on end. He feels like the wind is knocked out of him every time the bodyguard makes eye contact with him with that gorgeous smile. That smile. Renjun has dreams about it.

And, if his suspicions are correct, (fucking hell, please let them be) Jeno needs him too.

“So,” says Jeno after fifteen minutes of him and Renjun staring at each other across the unforgiving plastic benches of the hospital cafeteria.

“I think I’m in love with your bodyguard,” Renjun blurts out, and then immediately freezes.

“Oh, good,” Jeno sighs in relief. “Me too.”

—

“You can’t sue him,” Taeyong sighs for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Of course I can’t sue him,” Jaemin’s mom rolls her eyes. “He’s the fucking king. I’d lose in a heartbeat.”

“Then what, exactly,” Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose, “was the point of you wasting my entire day?”

She shrugs, and takes a neat sip of the Diet Coke the prince had bought her after the first twenty or so minutes of arguing. “Just buying my idiot son some time to figure his shit out.”

—

Jaemin wakes up to the two people he’s most recently almost died for. It’s a pleasant surprise, considering he thought he’d be fired by now. Shit. Maybe they wanna do it in person?

“—min? You’re not listening to us at all are you?” Renjun chuckles, and Jaemin feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. So much for not being obvious. These meds are seriously fucking him up, huh?

“Jaem,” Jeno continues for Renjun, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. Despite his better reasoning, Jaemin let’s his gaze rest painfully, just a second too long, on their clasped hands, and sits back against his pillows with a wince. Apparently, it’s time to be friend-zoned by the first people he’s been interested in since he was 20. What a sad end to a short career as a professional Kevlar vest.

“Jun, and I have finally had a talk, and—“We love you!” Renjun blurts out, and then promptly buries his head in Jeno’s shoulder as the prince chokes out a laugh in surprise. “Yeah,” he nods hopefully, staring expectantly at Jaemin as he scratches the back of his neck. “We love you. And we want you to be ours. That about covers it.”

Jaemin is absolutely floored. There are very few people in the world who Jaemin considers worthy of his complete love and protection, and two of them are standing here in his room looking at him like he’s the last piece to their 2000 set jigsaw puzzle, and this cannot be real.

He’s distracted from his own frantic, rambling thoughts by Renjun’s delicate, light fingertips brushing away a tear. That’s an interesting development, he hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

Through a few disgusting, choked out sobs, he manages to warble in his stupid, watery voice, “I love you too.” And then lips—he doesn’t know, and, frankly, doesn’t care who’s—are on his like a lifeline, and there’s nothing he feels like thinking about more right now, than how good it feels to finally, finally be complete.

In Renjun and Jeno’s strong, warm, arms, it feels like home.

—

There’s something to be said about the persistence of the paparazzi. Somehow, someway, they always know where to be to make the most absolute inconvenience of themselves and to make their subjects’ lives just that much less private. Truly, a marvel of a job.

There is also, however, something to be said about the sheer terror of going head to head with Jaemin’s mom.

“LISTEN UP, YOU FUCKING CREEPS,” she yells, and Jaemin doesn’t bother listening to the rest. “That was a pretty good start, I think,” Renjun comments, happily playing with the strings of Jaemin’s hoodie. He’s sitting on Jaemin’s lap and they’re both snuggled under the hideous blanket some nurse had draped over them when they’d gotten situated on the wheelchair. It still feels unreal to Jaemin, just as unreal as the sweet kiss Jeno drops on both of their foreheads as he skirts around them to deal with even more paperwork. Who knew even the prince’s bodyguard had to sign release forms?

“I can’t wait to get home,” Jaemin murmurs shyly into the base of Renjun’s neck, receiving a mouthful of soft, baby-pink turtleneck for his efforts.

“Me too, baby,” Renjun sighs, leaning further into his boyfriend’s embrace.

*click*

Their moment is interrupted by the snap of Jeno’s phone camera, as the prince shrugs at them sheepishly. “What?” He laughs, turning back to his paperwork. “It was perfect lock screen material, don’t judge me!”

Jaemin blushes, thinking back to his own lock screen, a picture of Jeno and Renjun he’d taken on one of their many forbidden, late-night, this-never-happened adventures. Renjun is on Jeno’s back, kissing Jeno’s cheek and holding up a peace sign, and Jeno is practically beaming at the camera, eye smile in full power. It’s Jaemin’s favorite picture of them ever, and he’s certainly spent an embarrassing number of nights staring at it desperately. Oh, if only he knew what was coming for him.

When he shows Renjun, the older boy gasps, immediately shoving it in Jeno’s face. “Oh, baby, this is one of my favorite pictures of us too! But, if I’m being honest, it’s missing something.”

“Hey!” Jaemin pouts playfully, trying not to grin. “It was the best I could do with my shitty old phone! I promise I’ll take many, many more.

“He didn’t mean the photo, Jaem,” Jeno laughs, leaning over to wrap Jaemin’s slightly-shaking hand in his warm, steady one. “He meant you.”

“Oh.” Jaemin, gasps, tears welling up in his eyes. How did he possibly get so lucky?

“Awwww, baby,” Renjun grins brightly at him. “We’re just gonna have to take a million more,” he shrugs.

Jeno nods solemnly in agreement, as he takes the safety brakes off of the wheelchair. Renjun slides off his lap reluctantly, taking Jaemin’s hand and tucking his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Ready?” Jeno grins, flicking his favorite pair of baby blue heart-shaped sunglasses down from their perch on the top of his head. Jaemin makes a mental note to buy him more colors when Renjun playfully whines that he wants to borrow them.

“Let’s go, you fucking dorks,” Jaemin laughs, tugging on Renjun’s hand and leaning his head back gently against one of Jeno’s arms. Renjun squeezes back and Jeno grins down at him, leaning down to peck Jaemin’s nose, and they’re out the door in mere seconds, to the flashes and screams of paparazzi and reporters alike.

Jaemin instinctively stiffens in his wheelchair, but relaxes immediately as both Jeno and Renjun squeeze his respective hands tightly in comfort.

It’s going to be fine. He has everything he needs, right beside him.

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davidchill · 5 years

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This Is My Truth - The Final Blog (For Now)

After over ten years of writing a personal blog I feel that now would be a good time to wrap things up. I’m sure I’ll still write blogs from time-to-time, but they’ll be a completely different animal to this curious beast.

Social media has changed an awful lot over the years. As I scroll through my timeline this morning all I see are snappy memes, gifs, people arguing with strangers about the perils of Brexit, and sponsored posts based on my browsing habits.

Another thing that’s changed is how people engage and interact with others. Over the years I’ve seen friends who appeared to be warm and affable suddenly go stone cold and aloof, virtually overnight. Typed communication can often be misinterpreted or misconstrued, and I have, on a few occasions, tried to strike up friendships with people who I’ve genuinely liked, only for their shields to go up - and I watch them vanish at warp speed.

The truth has always been important to me - so when people lie in order to make their lives easier I find myself distancing myself from them so they don’t need to lie anymore. But I can’t judge anyone. Lying is easy. Anyone can lie. How many lies have got people out of awkward social situations without damaging the friendship? Thousands, I would imagine. The truth is much harder to swallow at times. So if you’ve found this blog to be a difficult read then that’s certainly not a bad thing.

Of course, a few “friends” haven’t stayed the course, and opted to “unfriend” or “unfollow” me on social media for posting “too many dog photos” or “too many blogs on mental health”. Well… all I can offer here is my “sperm” analogy…

“Out of the approximately 1,000 sperm that enter the fallopian tube, only about 200 reach the egg. The rest get attached to the lining of the oviduct, or just give out and die. Out of the approximately 200 sperm that reach the egg, only one fertilizes the egg.”

If you’ve stuck by me on Facebook during the most turbulent period of my life (between 2014 and the present day) then consider yourself a healthy sperm. The others might resurface in a few years when everything in my life is hunky-dory and say “Is it safe to be your friend again?” but they have no chance of reaching the egg.

In this case the “egg” is a metaphor for my “circle of trust”.

Friends don’t fall off the radar when you struggle with your mental health, and nor do they sit back and watch you struggle financially when they *could* throw you a bone. Oh, and they certainly don’t walk away when you share anecdotes about your dog.

So if you are still with me - thank you. And if you’re sitting comfortably then let’s begin...

Keeping the Faith

For much of my adult life I never had a huge amount of faith in myself. Too many crushing doubts played on my mind as to what role I had in this world - or even if I had a part to play. My creative abilities were certainly brought into question, as I lie awake at night wondering when people would wake up and give me the same amount of judgement and scrutiny that I subjected myself to on a daily basis.

Despite a very happy home life I was a prime target for the school bullies - thanks to a winning combination of ginger hair and small, round head - so it’s hardly surprising that I entered adulthood with several insecurities and a huge chip on my shoulder. Children can be cruel and wretched creatures at times. Snotty-nosed brats.

Throughout college I drew comic strips at every available opportunity and was always genuinely flabbergasted when my peers told me how talented and gifted I was - and how much they loved my sense of humour. Well, my written word - as I was practically mute in those days. “You’d be funny if you spoke!” commented one guy.

While most of the students gallivanted off to university I chose not to pursue further education and opted to get a “real” job in order to feed my comic book addiction. So for the next six or seven years I took on a variety of roles… packing plastic, kennel hand, factory worker.

I’m not sure what my parents thought of me coming home covered in dog poo and toner dust - but my duties were the perfect cover for an artistic creative soul who had zero faith in his abilities. I couldn’t fail.

Unfortunately my cover was blown in 1998 when my line manager insisted on promoting me to “champion operator” - a job that involved assembly work, but also gave me the opportunity to walk around with a bit of paper and use the new fangled “e-mail” system that was becoming popular in the workplace. “What is this wizardry?” I asked myself, as I bluffed my way through the job.

It was during this time that I was asked to give a PowerPoint presentation to an office full of co-workers and the type of senior management you’d cross the street to avoid if you saw them out shopping on a Saturday morning. When the CEO gave his feedback on the presentations he threw the spotlight on me and said; “David, I thought you were excellent.”

Swine. “I’m a fraud I tell you!” (I didn’t actually say that out loud)

Thankfully, just before my head expanded to dangerous levels of self belief I was made redundant from the position. This was no reflection on me - the whole company went under. Nothing to do with my “excellent” presentation skills or the time I spent walking around with a bit of paper.

The following year I was inflicted with a condition called spasmodic torticollis and forced to take three months off work. In English; I suffered with a severe muscle spasm in my neck. As a result, my chin was permanently touching my shoulder and only lying down made me feel “normal”. We didn’t have box sets to lift the mood in those days, so it was an extremely dark chapter in my life. I was pumped full of valium, I couldn’t drive or walk the dog, and my mother had to chop my food up for me.

Eventually, after a series of tests, the consultant told me I’d have to have injections in my neck - but this wouldn’t guarantee success. Truth be told I became very low and depressed - but, with the support of my friends and family, I got through each day. One of my church friends even picked me up, took me to church, and prayed for me. This wasn’t like my “last rites” or anything, I hasten to add.

One day, as I walked into town, all hunched up and averting eye contact - something very peculiar happened. My head wasn’t tilting to one side anymore and I found myself walking in a STRAIGHT line. “What is this hogwashery?!” I thought to myself. “I’m walking with my head in an upright position!”

The specialist who mooted the idea of injections then examined me, scratched his head, and concluded that I was some kind of weird “enigma”. Yes, it took three months of pain, frustration and fear to reach the conclusion that I was a bit odd. Blimey, I didn’t need to go through all that to work that one out.

The Slippery Slope

Several years later, and after being made redundant three times between 1998 and 2003, I was beginning to think I was cursed.

In 2006 I quit full-time employment and went down the “self-employed” route - mostly focusing on wedding websites for the subsequent eight years. On reflection that was far too long to spend on one endeavour, and a few close friends urged me to expand my portfolio. Again, I felt “safe” doing wedding websites, the money was coming in, and I didn’t want to run the risk of straying too far. However, I should have taken the advice given to Peter Davison when Patrick Troughton advised him to only play the Doctor for three years. Eight years is a very long time in the world of technological advances, and I became the Ken Barlow of wedding websites.

Looking back, it’s not surprising the work had a detrimental impact on my mental health. I poured my heart and soul into those blasted websites, and sometimes sat up until 3am to please my transatlantic Bridezillas. Sometimes Groomzillas. No, I didn’t *have* to, but when I take on a role I like to give it my all.

Unfortunately because my “office” was then based in my bedroom I could never “switch off” and those sites consumed me to a point where my anxiety and depression deepened. The line between business and pleasure just became far too blurred and it became a seven day week thing.

After all the stress of moving into my maisonette (and then buying the maisonette) I still found the websites to be an extremely negative factor in my mental health. Things got on top of me and I’d begin to procrastinate… put off tasks, until, eventually, I hit my brick wall. My dark place.

Enter Luna, the Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita, who took a lot of stick for being the author of my demise. No, she was merely the straw that broke the camels back.

Before I knew it, I lost my regular income after being told that my services were no longer required. Sadly, despite being told that my salary would be safe until January 2014, it was then slashed by £500 for two months on the trot. November and December, respectively.

Suddenly, I had this huge financial hole to fill… and a mortgage to pay. When you lose £1000 without sufficient forewarning then what do you do? No money from extra part-time work would have reached me in time - even if my mind had been “fit” to work. The anxiety just consumed me, and the mind starts imagining these highly unlikely scenarios… My neck condition might flare up again… I might lose the dog… I might lose my home.

Okay, that last one actually happened.

People often tell me that debt is a slippery slope that should be avoided at all costs. People who’ve never experienced debt to the extent that I did. My friends, I’ve taken to that slope. I’m the Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards of the slippery slope.

So yes, I know that debt begins very slowly... and it gradually creeps up on you… the £5 penalty charge on your emergency borrowing becomes £10, £15, £20… and then you’re late with the gas and electric bill… and then BOOM! You’ve lost your home and overzealous cleaners are pulling things off your wall as you struggle to pack everything into boxes.

I lost more that day than I can ever put into words, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since.

Yes, people made my life more difficult than it needed to be, and some people could have helped more - rather than just telling me it’d all be okay. But I lost everything because I lost faith in myself.

There’s No Guarantors

Today, eighteen months after losing my home, I’m sat here writing a business plan - and I find myself in this role reversal. Almost like a weird mirror universe from Star Trek. Suddenly, for perhaps the first time in my life, I have faith in myself - but others are doubting my judgement, or have very little faith in my abilities.

Whenever I hear that someone has been awarded a business loan I punch the air [on their behalf]. Even if it’s someone on Twitter who I don’t know very well - I always make a point of congratulating them and wishing them well in their new endeavour. Or endeavor if they’re American.

With me, I expect a few would question if I knew what I was doing.

Not that I was awarded a business loan, but I came very close. Honestly, my heart sank when Eugene (the guy from the bank) uttered the words “We just need your guarantor…”

Guarantor? Me? Find a guarantor? He might as well have asked me to find the hair of a Sasquatch, a stool sample of a dodo, and the DNA of William the Conqueror.

“Hey, dear,” says a friend, turning to his partner. “David C. Hill is looking for a guarantor for his business loan. You in?” “The same David C. Hill with the anxiety issues?” “Yep.” “The same David C. Hill who had 5,000 comic books printed without testing the market?” “Yep.” “The same David C. Hill who lost his home after falling into a horrifying amount of debt?” “Yes, dear. You in?”

Yes, I had to ask… but of course I can’t blame anyone for not rising to the challenge.

My new bank friend, Eugene, then followed up with a phone call to assure me that the £10,000 funding would be granted if I could give him a name. So I looked at Luna, and for that brief moment her eyes just said “Don’t look at me!”

The “Homer Simpson” in me thought about seeing how far I could go with this guarantor lark. “John. My guarantor’s name is John. John Smith. His address? 12… Evergreen Terrace.”

Sadly, it’s going to be almost impossible for me to come back from that defeat of losing my home. That sort of thing sticks. It’s like I have “not good with money” or “dog who returns to his vomit” scrawled on my forehead. It’s akin to someone on a dodgy register trying to acquire a job as a school caretaker.

No, to paraphrase Tiffany, the pop goddess of 1987… “I think I’m alone now.”

People will argue that if my business plan was that convincing then I wouldn’t need a guarantor. However, these days banks are far more guarded when it comes to funding businesses. I don’t have any assets therefore I need someone with assets to have my back. My 27” iMac won’t cut the mustard as an asset.

Anyway, I’m sure most people can find a guarantor with relative ease. If a guarantor was such a ridiculous concept then requiring a guarantor wouldn’t even be a thing. According to the website, 98% of businesses are successfully funded. So I guess that places me in the 2% camp.

It’s been a week of bad news, and it would be so easy for me to slip into a depression and consume my body weight in wine gums. My car payment has just bounced and I have more rent due in ten days, and now I’m telling people that without funding my business can’t move forward.

I know the rich frown upon those who have to take out loans, and in the last few years I’ve seen the rich grow considerably richer. But I don’t think some people realise how rich they are, and how, if they need something, they can just go out and buy it - or ask their rich family to chip in. Of course most people have worked very hard for their wealth - but the majority of people do work very hard. I know at least two nurses who work for the NHS and they work exceptionally gruelling shifts. So one should never judge the rich - or the poor.

Yes, some people do inherit wealth or marry into rich families, so not all the rich work hard - and not everyone who’s poor works hard either. Sometimes ill-health doesn’t permit you to work long hours - and yes, lazy work shy fops do exist.

If I have to calumniate £5,000 or £10,000 worth of debt in order to make £20k then I’ll do it. All businesses need funding and we don’t all have savings to inject into our cashflow. People who don’t have debt a get bit sniffy about it, but there’s no shame in having manageable debt - and sometimes it’s a necessary evil.

Final Words

There’s always a way forward. Sometimes its not about working harder - it’s about working smarter. And I have enough faith in myself to know that I can work smarter. I’ll find a way forward, even if I do have to accrue debt - even if I have to march into hell for a heavenly cause. People will call me batcrap crazy, and people will cast doubt on me, but that’s to be expected. Life is very short, memories are very precious, and sometimes those of us who want to achieve our goals need to take calculated risks.

My greatest fear is losing faith in myself - because that will be the day that I die. But that’s never going to happen. I mean losing faith in myself - I fully except to die one day! I’m not Connor MacLeod, Mister Immortal, or Captain Jack Harkness.

Thank you to those who have helped me over the last few years - and those who continue to support my work. Make no mistake, when I’m rich I’m not going to live in a huge castle, pull up the drawbridge and yell “Let them eat cake!”. I’m going to live in a modest dwelling and help those who have helped me in the past.

That’s my guarantee.

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