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stitch1830 · 3 years

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Bets

Happy Mondangst! Here's some angsty Kantoph :)

......

“Da.”

“That’s right, baby girl!” he cheered in his most ridiculous baby voice. “Da da! Da da!”

Lin giggled in her father’s arms, and Toph jokingly scoffed at the two from the couch. She lay on her back with her hands behind her head, enjoying the vibrations of the two through the ball of her foot that she kept firmly on the ground. “You two are giving me a headache.”

“C’mon, Toph! It’s Lin’s first word, how can you hate this?”

“First off, she’s babbling. It’s not even words yet. Second, the fact that she’s making ‘D’ sounds instead of ‘M’ is the other reason.” she explained simply. “If she says ‘Dada’ before ‘Mama,’ that’s betrayal right there.”

“Sorry, Angel. I just have that effect on women, I guess.”

“Gross,” she complained, but pointed a smile at him, and she felt his heart quicken ever so slightly and his voice let out a quiet chuckle at their antics.

And when his gaze turned back to Lin, Toph could feel through the earth how at peace he was at that moment. Complete adoration for their baby, and she silently laughed to herself at the thought of him having to deal with Lin as a teenager. Oh, she would have him wrapped around her finger for all of eternity, Toph just knew it.

His voice broke up her thoughts. “Hey, what if we had a little competition?”

Toph said nothing, but raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “What if we compete to find out who Linny walks to first?” he asked.

“What are the stakes?”

“If I win, we start trying for another baby.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she laughed.

“And if you win, Lin’s our only perfect little girl.”

“And if she doesn’t walk to either of us??”

“Then we let fate and destiny take over,” he answered rather smugly.

Toph smirked and sat up from her position, ready to playfully protest this silly competition. “You realize that she’s gonna walk to you, right?”

“We don’t know that.”

“Right,” she responded sarcastically. “Lin, the little Daddy’s girl who shares the same birthday as her Baba and whose first words are gonna be ‘Dada’ and ‘Baba.’”

“Mama could be a close third,” he defended.

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to shake on a bet I’m bound to lose.”

“Just a little fun,” he replied, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “Obviously we’ve got time, but, I don’t know. I think it could be fun!”

“You and I have two very different definitions of fun,” she teased.

“But it’s harmless!”

“Harmless?” she laughed. “I could end up fat and pregnant at the end of this!”

“Only if you want to,” he added.

“So this isn’t even a bet at all,” she commented. “It’s just fake stakes on the table.”

She felt him shrug. “Bit of pride on the line, I suppose. What do you say?”

Toph wanted to continue berating him and teasing him, but his heart sang whenever Lin made a noise or reached out for something, and he adored playing little games like this with her. Perhaps deep down in a place that she barely allowed to admit to herself, she could imagine them having another baby. Even if Lin was almost 6 months old, she thought that maybe, just maybe, a family of four would be nice. And when Lin giggled at her father once again, Toph’s resolve to say no to those two disappeared.

Spirits, they had her whole heart, and she couldn’t help but shake her head as she smiled and extended her hand out to him.

“It’s only a bet if we shake on it.”

His silly cheer caused Lin to giggle more, and after he shook Toph’s hand to signify the start of the bet, he playfully kissed each knuckle before Toph mildly complained as she tried to free herself from his grasp.

~~~

They sat on her living room floor, engaged in small talk while they paid attention to Lin’s every move. The elephant koi in the room became a semi-permanent resident in the Beifong house, but everyone learned to live with it, Toph especially.

Sokka carefully treaded every conversation as he supported Lin to standing on her own two feet. Every now and again, his gaze would turn up to Toph to catch her expression. Today it was unreadable, but she sat on the floor with her legs out and leaned back on her arms, a sign of openness.

That was a good sign, right?

The warrior never knew what was good and what wasn’t anymore, because everything reminded them of him. Of Kanto.

And it was unfair, because Toph deserved to go about her life without having to be constantly reminded of the man she loved and lost to a crazy person. But there was no escape; Kanto was at her place of work, at their home, and he was there whenever Lin moved or breathed or learned something new.

None of that seemed to matter to the universe, however, and Toph and Lin and everyone else that loved Kanto lived with the reminder like chronic pain: constant, relentless.

Still, Toph’s body language was more positive than usual, so Sokka took the opportunity to strike up another small conversation.

“So,” he began by clearing his throat. “What do you and Lin have planned for the rest of the day?”

His friend shrugged in response and a nonchalant wave. “Eh, same old shit, Sokka. Maybe I’ll take her to the park. It is a nice day out.”

“How come you only call me Sokka, now?”

Toph shot him a confused look. “Because it’s your name??”

The man rolled his eyes to himself then said, “Well, yeah. I just mean you almost always called me ‘Meathead’ or ‘Snoozles’ or ‘Captain Boomerang.’”

A quiet scoff fell from Toph’s breath, and she dug her knuckles into her earthen floor. “Yeah, well nicknames are for fun times, and I haven’t been in a jovial mood as of late—”

“Toph I just mean—”

“So forgive me if I don’t feel the need to call you by some dumb nickname that reminds me of all the other stupid ones I called him.”

Sokka shut his mouth, but still held onto a bouncing Lin and stared at Toph. Her expression contorted into one of regret, and she let out a tired sigh.

“I’m sorry, Sokka. That was rude.”

“No, Toph, it’s okay,” he reassured her. “I just—” Sokka paused before he continued. What he wanted was to help his friend and hoped she would return to her old self soon.

But the idea seemed silly after a second thought. How could she go back to her old self? Going back wasn’t an option, only forward, to a different Toph Beifong who loved and lost and learned to adapt to this difficult change.

So instead of saying I just want to help you get back to your old self, he amended his statement. “I just want to help you.”

“I know,” she sighed again as she moved to lie down on the ground. “I know you’re all trying to help.”

And Toph did know that. The whole group seemed bent over backwards in helping her through this mess of her life, and she not only wanted, but needed their help. However, figuring out things that did help seemed to be a challenge, for it all required talking or thinking about him.

She really couldn’t do that at this point, not even nine months after his death.

Saying his name sent her down a spiral of thoughts of longing and regret, the feeling so strong that it tempted her to visit their bedroom again. But she hadn’t stepped into that room since she was dragged out by Sokka, because she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to leave it a second time.

Instead of visiting their shared bedroom or speaking her dead almost-fiancé’s name or figuring out what could possibly help her through this, she lay on the ground, focusing on the earth’s humming while blocking out all other erratic and uneven vibrations. It was soothing, being completely one with the earth and ignoring everything else. Her mind wasn’t racing, her heart wasn’t hurting, and she felt a feeling that strangely resembled tranqui—

“Toph?”

Her focus was broken, and as annoyed as she was, Toph responded to her friend and asked, “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Stupid question.”

“I just mean—”

“Mama!”

Lin’s interruption pulled Toph further from the earth, and so she waved her hand in the air and exclaimed, “Mama’s right here, Lin. Just wallowing in self-pity as a widow does, although I’m not even sure I can call myself that.”

“Toph,” Sokka began, but Toph continued her useless ramble. “Probably not, since he didn’t even ask me to marry him. Kind of a requirement to be in the mopey widow club, don’t you think? Pathetic, really, I don’t even have a dead fiancé, just a dead baby daddy.”

“Toph—”

“You know what, guess it doesn’t matter I could just—”

“Toph!”

Sokka’s exclamation startled her, but she didn’t move from her spot. She waited for him to continue with whatever was so important to interrupt her self-deprecating monologue, but he didn’t speak again.

Instead, she felt little, uneven, and heavy footsteps toddle toward her. Toph sat upright in an instant, completely shocked at the sensation of Lin walking.

“Go Lin!” Sokka cheered.

Toph cheered as well and held her hands out excitedly to catch her daughter. “C’mere, Lin! You got it!”

And with a few babbles and shouts for Mama, Lin made her way into Toph’s arms.

The earthbender pulled Lin in for a tight hug and smothered her cheek with kisses. “You did it, baby girl! You took your first steps!”

“She’s a natural, Toph! Gonna be running tomorrow,” Sokka teased.

Toph grinned at the thought, and moved to balance Lin’s tiny feet on her knee. She felt Lin squirm in her arms and crane her neck, as if she was looking for someone.

“Dada.”

And with a single exclamaion of Lin’s favorite word, Toph’s heart shattered just as quickly as it soared a moment ago.

…….

Sokka’s grin faded slowly with Toph’s as he watched her realize what Lin wanted. In a second, one of the greatest feelings and feats of Toph’s baby girl turned into a situation of pure grief. And All he wanted was for his best friend to have a single fucking moment not be ruined by the memory of losing Kanto.

But that was impossible. Every accomplishment was tainted with this memory, and there was nothing to do but accept that harsh reality.

He watched Toph suddenly become overwhelmed by the grief. She bit her quivering lip as she combed through Lin’s hair over and over, fixating on a few curly strands at the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, all the while Lin kept asking for her dad. Sokka was about to intervene, but then Toph let out a quiet breath and answered Lin.

“Yeah, Lin. Dada would be so proud of you right now.” She formed a small, sorrowful smile at Lin while tears fell down her cheeks. “I’d rub it in his face, too.” Toph choked out a chuckle, then continued, “But Baba isn’t here anymore, baby girl. It’s just you and me.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. All your aunts and uncles will be around to bother us, especially this Meathead over there, okay?”

When she pointed a finger at Sokka, Lin turned to see, and smiled at him. And Sokka found himself grinning back at Lin for only a second. For when he turned his gaze to Toph, he saw her tear-stricken face and any signs of happiness left Sokka’s face.

He saw Toph hastily wipe at her eyes, then stood up with Lin in her arms. “Thanks for uh, coming by, Sokka. But Lin and I are gonna spend some time together alone.”

She walked out into the backyard before he could even protest.

Sokka didn’t move from his spot, however. He just sat there, thinking and wondering and hoping there was something he could do to help his friend. But she was a silent sufferer, carrying the burden of grief everywhere she went and barely let on what hurt the most about it all. As a bystander, it hurt Sokka to see her shoulder it all. What was he to do, though?

He let out a tired sigh. Sometimes there was nothing to do but be there, even if it made him feel useless.

……

“You’re a terrible listener.”

Sokka ignored her jab and sat down next to her, Lin bouncing gleefully in her spot in front of her mother. He gave her elbow a light nudge and replied, “I know, but I know you don’t actually want to be alone.”

“I just said—”

“Listen, Toph. We don’t have to talk about it, about any of it. But you’re like me, okay? I don’t like talking about what’s bothering me, but that doesn’t mean solitude is the answer.”

Toph bit her lip as she considered the offer, but made no outright objections to his presence. So they sat there, silent and contemplative about everything and nothing in particular.

It wasn’t until minutes of silence (and little babbles and single words from Lin) that Toph finally spoke. She chose her words carefully, as if saying the wrong thing would send her down a rabbit hole of despair. But Sokka watched her and steadied her with a reassuring hand to her shoulder.

Toph gave a sad smile as she spoke and played with Lin’s wavy hair. “We, uh, we made a stupid bet.

“He liked these silly games and it made him so fucking happy, I didn’t think twice about them. And it gave us a reason to be competitive, and you know how we would get with this shit. Still, they were harmless.”

She hastily wiped her eyes then continued, “But then he wanted to have a bet on who Lin would walk to first, and he said that if Lin walked to him, we’d try for another baby. If she walked to me, no more kids.”

Toph let out a sorrowful chuckle as she slightly hung her head low and let the tears fall in her lap. Sokka’s eyes grew misty at the thought. A silly bet turned into a reminder for Toph, and it felt cruel.

But then Toph took in a deep breath and brought her head back up, pointing her gaze toward the warrior. “You know what’s even crazier? I was gonna let him win. Under the illusion I was upset, of course.”

Sokka softly chuckled at that.

Lin cried out and turned to face Toph, who gently rubbed her daughter’s chubby cheeks. Sokka still sat there, hand on Toph’s shoulder, and watched through his blurred vision his best friend continue to open up to him.

She sighed again. “I’d let him win all the silly games if it meant—”

Her sentence was left unfinished, but nothing else needed to be said. Toph pulled in Lin to an embrace, breathing deeply into her hair as the gravity began to weigh heavy on the pair.

Toph mindlessly played with Lin’s soft curls. “But I guess all bets are off, or I win them all now.

“I don’t feel like the winner, though, Sokka.”

Sokka’s grip tightened on Toph’s shoulder as his sign of support, because he truly had no words. All he could do was sit and stare and hope that there would be something on the horizon to look forward to.

And yet, in that very same moment, he couldn’t help but silently admire Toph’s strength. Her ability to carry on and raise Lin while facing practically an insurmountable amount of grief was something that couldn’t be overlooked. He’d seen his friend show great feats of strength and resilience in the past, but in the back of his mind, he thought that perhaps this was the greatest one of all.

Still, he’d be damned if he was going to let her face this mountain on her own. So they sat there silently once again as Sokka’s hand remained on her shoulder, reminding her that he was there no matter what. He would be there to help her and to hold onto her through it all.

She deserved that. She deserved that and much more, but this was their reality. It would have to do.

#kantoph #toph #toph beifong #kanto #lin #lin beifong #sokka #atla #lok #writing #the long winding road to you #the chief and dep series #like a boomerang i always come back to you series #mondangst #hope it fits the angst bill ope #(amanda's is better haha!)#srsrly tho go read it

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

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Legend

♡ — personal favourites

☆ — fan favourites

♠ — nsfw

♫ — includes songs

Headcanons

RFA + Saeran - Dirty Dancing ♫ ♡

RFA + Saeran - MC wants to have her own business

RFA - MC is ten years older than them ♡

RFA - What goes through their mind when they’re cuddling? ☆

RFA + Vanderwood - Having a rebellious kid ♡

RFA - MC can’t sleep unless with them

RFA - A bubbly MC makes self-deprecating jokes as a coping mechanism ♡

RFA - MC that is bubbly, confident and never afraid to stand up for someone

Yoosung dragging MC back to bed because it’s raining

RFA + V - MC blasts music when she’s upset ♫

RFA + V + Saeran - MC with a passion for anime and drawing

RFA + V + Saeran - MC with a major in fashion

RFA + Saeran - Quarantine edition ♡

RFA + V + Saeran + Obey Me! brothers on a trip to the beach ♡ ☆

RFA - MC with a hand fetish

MC has Jumin trying commoner food

Zen + Jumin + Saeyoung - MC is selfconscious about being chubby and they make her feel better ♠ ♡

Jumin comforts MC about a guy who is texting her constantly and making her upset

RFA reacts to a MC that is called Elizabeth

RFA + V + Saeran - As Les Misérables songs ♫ ♡

Saeyoung messes with Yoosung’s phone to help him out

Saeyoung x MC - MC makes her own music

Latina!MC and Jumin get stuck with MC’s latino parents during quarantine ♡

RFA + Saeran - MC gets her wisdom teeth out ♡ ☆

RFA + V + Saeran - MC has a bad coping mechanism of punching her thighs (tw!)

Domestic Texts Series: Zen & MC || Saeran & MC ♡

RFA - MC is obsessed with Elizabeth the 3rd

RFA + V + Saeran with a MC that likes going to protests

RFA - MC grew up in really bad poverty

RFA + V + Saeran - They find out MC is only eighteen after everything that happened during their routes ☆

RFA - How do they calm MC when she’s anxious?

RFA - MC has dyslexia

RFA - MC with chronic pain

Royal AUs with Jumin, Zen and Yoosung

Love Language Event with Yoosung, Zen, Jumin, Saeyoung, Saeran and V

Happy New Year Event with Saeyoung, Saeran, Zen, V and Yoosung

Thirst Asks [+18]

[All Asks]

[Jumin] [Jihyun] [Yoosung]

Fanfiction

Mystic Messenger as failed love stories ♡

reminiscing about the characters and your failed love stories in an alternate universe

You get me ♡

What happens when you’ve finally found your prince charming, but he doesn’t seem to fit in your life anymore?

Bet you can’t leave me

Mystic Messenger Week 2020. “The first time she threatened to leave me, I felt like I was dying.”

Who are you?

Drabble prompt - Zen always sought recognition for his work. Lately, he’s been using other resource to achieve his goals.

Dance with me

Latina!MC tries to teach Zen to dance bachata.

Jealousy [Kinktober 2020 - Day 2] ♠

When Zen agreed to be MC's plus one at a fancy party, he never expected she would lock them both inside a bathroom in a fit of jealousy. The hunger in her eyes could only indicate she was about to remind him who he was with.

A plan gone wrong [Mysme Angst Week - Day 1]

You convinced Zen to stage a fake coffee date in order to give Jumin, your fiancé, a wake up call about how much he had been ignoring you lately. However, things don't go as planned.

i could buy you anything but i cannot buy you ♠ ♡

[kinktober 2021 - day fifteen: body worship] Zen had always had the need to be in control for a lot of years. (...) His guard may not be up as much as it did back then, but to this day Zen still takes a second look at any situation he’s in. He can’t let anything drive him away from his acting career so he always has to give his best and not take anything for granted.

You get me ♡

What happens when you’ve finally found your prince charming, but he doesn’t seem to fit in your life anymore?

I always wanted to marry rich

Jumin Han stood with his hand holding the doorknob, not believing what he had just heard. There was no way this was happening. Not days before his wedding. Not only that, days before he married who he thought was the love of his life. The one who he thought he could trust, the one that didn’t ask for anything but his love and attention.

Home

You are staying at Jaehee’s after Jumin did something that made you really angry. While staying there, you start feeling sick and end up at the hospital. What you first thought was nothing to worry about, quickly turns into a nightmare that could change your relationship.

Sweet Creature ♫ ♡

Jumin gets stuck in another country away from his wife due to the pandemic. He’s been having trouble falling asleep, so MC decides to tell him a bedtime story. A simple request ends up making Jumin open up about a small insecurity he had over his wife and his best friend.

If I could tell him ♫

Request: “can i request a jumin fic where MC has a crush on jumin but is very shy and so ends up talking with the other members more and then jumin confronts her about it and she accidentally confesses/he confesses.”

Animal I Have Become ♫

500 followers event. “So what if you can see the darkest side of me? No one will ever change this animal I have become. Help me believe it’s not the real me.”

Young God ♫ ♠

500 followers event. “He says: “Oh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges. I’m the king of everything, you know my tongue is a weapon. There’s a line on the clock that’s separating your thighs, if you wanna go to Heaven you should fuck me tonight.”

Crowded Room ♫ ♡ ☆

500 followers event. “Baby, it’s just me and you, just us two, even in a crowded room, baby it’s just me and you” - [SMAU Epilogue]

Dear Jumin ♡ ☆

What if after all the events that happened during Jumin’s route, he didn’t fall in love with MC?

A new life

When MC gets into a car accident, Jumin ends up with her medical records. He never thought he would find out about what happened to his wife six years ago.

You see me in my room, wish you were here right now [Kinktober 2020 - Day 12] ♠ ☆

Jumin Han clicks on a pop-up ad and gets stuck into a cam girl website. As he waits for someone to come to his penthouse and fix his laptop, he can't help but notice a young woman giggling as she read through he comment section. From that moment on, he's hooked. And he can't wait to see more of her.

Sometimes I think about Elizabeth [Mysme Angst Week - Day 3]

Jumin tries to deal with the grief of losing Elizabeth the 3rd.

A late night conversation

A late night conversation with Jumin takes another turn into a much better scenario. [Fix-it fic for Jumin's DLC. Set on Episode 3]

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Holidays Edition ♠

You’re home for the holidays and your friends invite you to a party. After a couple of drinks, one of them proposes playing seven minutes in heaven and makes everyone at the party leave an item of theirs in a small basket. When it’s finally your turn, you walk over and inspect the items before choosing the one that will decide your fate for the night.

A day off

For @/mysme-rbb event! You convince Jumin to take a small trip to the theme park. Taking into consideration it was the first time either of you had stepped foot in a place like that, it went exactly like expected.

you know i’m just a flight away (if you wanted you could take a private plane) ♠ ♡ ☆

[kinktober 2021 - day five: sex tape] Knowing Jumin is about to leave on yet another work trip, you suggest recording something for him to see while away. A little souvenir so he doesn't miss you too much- but now he's not sure he wants to leave at all.

Superstar ♫

500 followers event. “Before I met you, I pushed them all away / Soon as I kissed you, I wanted you to stay.”

What you always wanted

Mystic Messenger Week 2020. As MC’s anniversary with Saeyoung is approaching, she asks her friends of the RFA for advice on what present is the best one. After several recommendations, she decides on what she should give him. Her only hope is that he’ll be happy with her choice.

The Ghost Of You ♡ [ Vietnamese translation ]

A love story between a man with a mysterious job and a nurse during the Second World War. “And all the things that you never ever told me and all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me. Never coming home, never coming home.”

Loving You ☆

Drabble Prompt. “I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity in you.” - John Keats

Discoveries [Kinktober 2020 - Day 27] ♠

After you find a transparent light blue dildo hidden in Saeyoung's room, the question hangs in the air. Why not trying it out together?

Lost on you [Mysme Angst Week - Day 2]

A discussion about how to handle Saeran's recovery turns into the worst fight Saeyoung and MC have ever had. Both of them bring back past memories that should have never been talked about, in a desperate try to prove their point, not noticing how much they're tearing their relationship apart.

Just like him [Mysme Angst Week - Day 7]

No one teaches you how to grief. Sometimes you just do whatever it helps the pain go away.

give me the stars

For @/gureishi’s event. A small piece to celebrate Saeyoung’s birthday. A late-night escapade for two young lovers.

Wildest Dreams ♫ ♡

500 followers event. Slightly NSFW. “He says no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Holidays Edition ♠

Beautiful ♡

Jihyun has a couple of burn scars on his torso after the fire that took his mother’s life. You make sure you know he loves every part of him.

Wait for me

When the pandemic starts, MC gets stuck in another country, away from Saeran who was just starting his recovery. She tries to work a system with him so they can feel close even when they’re kilometres apart.

How ♫

500 followers event. “I’m asking for your help, I am going through hell, afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice.”

Vanilla ♠ ♡ ☆

NSFW. Saeran’s favourite place was between MC’s legs.

Apricity

Drabble Prompt. He never understood the reason behind this change (...). All he knew was that when winter came, he would start feeling tired out of nowhere and he would lose his appetite.

Gardening

Drabble Prompt. In which Saeyoung and MC break one of Saeran’s pot and they try to cover it up before he gets home.

All I’ve Ever Known ♡ ☆

Drabble Prompt. Saeran has some doubts before his wedding. Thankfully, you’re there to send all his worries away.

Not to be able to love

Drabble Prompt. He wants to love her, he does. But when you’ve been through that much, it gets hard to love and not need.

Four Seasons (15 chapters) ♠ ♡

Saeran’s After Ending. Saeran has finally found MC and is ectasic to finally be able to enjoy the good ending his tumultous life has reached. But with Saeyoung still missing and Mint Eye around, his happiness may have to wait a little more. Was love really capable to win against his inner demons or will he have to learn to fight for himself?

In another life [Mysme Angst Week - Day 4]

When MC knows her time is coming, she promises Saeran she will do whatever it takes to find him in another life. The only mistake was that she didn't expect to find him like that.

Our time

Saeran is saying his goodbyes but this time, you decide not to let him go. || Fix-it fic for Saeran's After Ending

even in the dark

For @/gureishi’s event. A small piece to celebrate Saeran’s birthday. Some days are better than others. But the people who love us stay through it all.

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

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This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

#lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

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slytherflynn · 3 years

Text

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

#Blaise Zabini #muggle!reader #blaise x reader #slytherin #hogwarts #lady zabini #harry potter #hp #imagine #fanfic #slytherflynn #part 1

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 7

Thomas X Reader

2873

Summary: Reader gets medical treatment. Thomas is not ok.

by @adventuresintooblivion

They didn’t speak again until the Garrison Pub came into sight. Several men were milling about trying to figure out what the hell was going on. They parted with excited chatter craning their necks to see what Thomas was holding.

“Open the door! If you’re not helping, you’re in the way. Go home. We accomplished what we came here for tonight.”

Only a handful of people remained. Most of them were the Shelbys themselves. Danny paced back and forth in the back of the bar murmuring to himself. Thomas nodded to the small room they conducted their business in. John hurriedly opened it enough for Thomas to set Y/N down on the table.

Y/N sat there swaying back and forth slightly, her eyes closed as she focused on not falling over. Moments later, Thomas draped his coat around her shoulders. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. For the first time, she looked up at the people gathered around her.

Aunt Pol’s face was pale. A shawl was clutched in her hands with her hair unmade. John blinked blearily, but she could visibly see the fatigue drain away as he took stock of her injuries. Arthur simply wouldn’t look at her.

Thomas hovered over her protectively. She could just barely see the redness on his cheek where she’d slapped him. His hand rested lightly against her lower back. She could feel his hand shaking even through all the layers.

“The doctor is on his way but there’s a few things I need to ask you before he gets here.”

Y/N shook her head, “I want to talk to Pol first.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She lifted her head, leveling her gaze at him, “You heard me, Shelby. I want to talk to Pol first.”

“Did he touch you?” He growled almost under his breath. Something about him changed. His knuckles turned a stark white as they gripped the table. His lips pulled back in an inaudible snarl, eyes wide as he used every inch of self control he had left not to turn on his heels and find whoever had done this.

“Wha…?”

Thomas roared a tremor visibly running through his body, “Did he touch you!”

Understanding dawned on Y/N. She reached out to lay her hand on his. He recoiled. She leaned forward just enough to press her hand over his. Her skin was ice against his rage, but he did stop shaking once she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles.

She spoke softly, “He didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to Pol.”

He turned toward her, almost pressing his forehead into her shoulder. “I need answers.”

“And you’ll get them. After.”

Thomas locked eyes with her. Finally, he straightened and led his brothers out of the room.

Pol was left behind, her eyes wide as she adjusted her shawl. “That’s the first time I’ve seen Tommy listen to anyone when he’s like that.”

Y/N glanced down

“Well, you wanted me to yourself. Now what is it?”

“I think Grace is working for Inspector Campbell.” Y/N said it all in a rush, not trusting herself to actually speak if she took her time with it.

Today, the inspector had wanted to instill fear in her and make her a useless pawn in this game of his. She hated to admit that she was in fact afraid. Of what she wasn’t sure, but she’d be damned if she let that decide her actions.

Pol cleared her throat. “That’s… a serious accusation. What is your proof?”

Y/N steeled herself before telling Pol everything. How she’d seen Grace at the opera, the little hints here and there that it wasn’t a place she’d normally be caught dead in. Then the great reveal of the man’s identity.

“I watched her hand him a piece of paper. I don’t know for certain that she is working for him, but it seems like the only logical answer, and at this point it’s dangerous to keep it to myself,” she finally finished.

The whole speech had taken a lot out of her, and she was already exhausted at best. Y/N pulled Thomas’ jacket closer around her, grateful that she was finally starting to warm up. At the edge of her senses, she caught a whiff of a smell that was distinctly Thomas. Stale cigarette smoke, aftershave, and hay. She almost smiled as she remembered the horses he loved so much.

Pol rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. “That’s a lot of information to deal with. Why haven’t you told Tommy?”

Y/N frowned, “Right now if I did he’d storm off to kill her. I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Hell, maybe turning her in and ending this now would be preferred. I just… I wanted to ask your opinion.”

Her head jerked up. “This is your business. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

Y/N sighed, finally letting the exhaustion cause her to sag in on herself, “Well, fuck.”

“I can’t believe you told me this. I won’t be caught complicit if he finds out,” she hissed.

“Pol, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. He likes her, even if it’s just a little, and with Thomas that means miles. This could destroy him. Or it could get one of them killed, and I don’t know if Grace worked at an opera house and just hates it from exposure and this is all some huge misunderstanding. I just don’t know.” Even to her ears Y/N sounded a bit hysterical.

Pol began to pace, thinking. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and even if the boys weren’t listening in they’d be able to hear that. After a few solid moments Pol rounded on the wounded girl.

She shook her finger at Y/N. “Listen here. For now, we say nothing. But if ANYTHING goes wrong and Grace is within ten miles of it, you tell him. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alright, now let's get those boys in here. He’s probably about to strangle Arthur.”

As soon as the door knob clicked, Thomas stormed back in. His eyes were dark and cloudy as they traveled over Y/N’s exposed skin. Behind him, a small man with glasses shuffled in.

He spoke with a nasally voice, “Hello, I’m Doctor Tanish. Now if you could remove your coat I’d like to get to work.”

Y/N reluctantly shed the layer of warmth she’d built during her conversation Pol.

The doctor immediately swooped in, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Are there any pre-existing medical conditions I should know about?”

Y/N glanced at Thomas before turning to the doctor. “I have a bullet that’s lodged in my back that’s an inch to the left of my spine by vertebrae T11. They uh… found it and got me with a billy club. A couple times.”

He paused. “That’s very specific.”

“Yeah, well, you hear doctors say it enough eventually you can parrot it back if you need to.”

He nodded before continuing with this ministrations.

Thomas, who was leaning against the wall, had turned a light shade of green when she spoke. His world was slowly closing in on him, a dark tunnel taking over his vision. It wasn’t until Arthur elbowed him that he was able to regain some control and return to the real world.

Eventually the doctor needed to see beneath Y/N’s underclothes.

Pol shooed them out saying, “I’ll be right here with her. Let the girl keep some of her dignity.”

Thomas’ hand snaked out to grip hers firmly. “What did you two talk about?”

Pol’s lips settled into a thin line. “I will not betray her confidence. Just have faith, Tommy.”

He released her, allowing himself to be pushed back out into the pub with the others.

Arthur growled under his breath, “You’re gonna want a family meeting as soon as that doctor is done aren’t you?”

“Am I that predictable?”

He just grumbled and went to take a nap in one of the stalls. John soon followed suit, not really sure what his stakes were in all this.

But Thomas sat at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey. He couldn’t make out much in the way of sounds. That’s why they like that room so much. There were a few moments when a yelp or shout would set him on edge. But all he could do was wait.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to come up that the doctor slipped from the room, blood covering his hands. Thomas sat up straighter, not realizing just how much he’d drunk until he tried to stand.

“How is she?”

Doctor Tanish let out a tired sigh. “Exhausted. Most of the damage will heal itself just fine; however, there are a few spots that I am concerned about. Will you be taking care of her?”

Thomas was a gang leader. He didn’t have time to be coddling people while he was supposed to be out managing things.

“Yes.”

Doctor Tanish nodded, pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. “She has three fractured ribs and another one that was popped out of socket, but it’s back now. Her toe was also broken; that’s been splinted. There was some minor internal bleeding, but that’s been addressed. The thing I’m most worried about is that bullet in her back.”

Bile rose on Thomas’ tongue. “Is it that bad?”

“Well, it was already something that could cause chronic pain and difficulty walking. Now that it’s been agitated, the muscles around it have swollen which would lead to temporary paralysis. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s up and around at all.” He tore the paper of a small notepad and handed it to Thomas, “I’ll have medication waiting to be picked up by the end of the day. I’d get it here earlier, but she insisted that she wouldn’t take opium. Under no circumstances let her walk.”

Thomas nodded dumbly, not exactly sure how to process all the information, but as the doctor left he glanced down at the paper. Detailed instructions were scrawled out in handwriting that was little better than chicken scratch. Luckily, John’s scrawl was also atrocious, and if Thomas could read that, he could read anything.

The door was left open. As he looked at it’s gaping maw, something inside him wanted to run. If he didn’t go in, she would once again become a ghost that haunted his memories. He wouldn’t have to face the words he’d said that night, or back then.

He took a deep breath and walked in. Thomas was a Shelby after all.

〜

Y/N had stopped paying attention to the doctor a while ago. Between the war and her childhood, she’d gone through all this before. Pol on the other hand looked like she was having a rough time. At one point Y/N even caught herself reaching out to hold the older woman’s hand.

“It’s going to be fine, Pol.” Her voice didn’t even quiver.

Pol nearly jumped out of her skin. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Y/N flashed her a wicked grin. “Eh, getting hurt comes with the territory.”

“With knowing Tommy.” Pol’s gaze fell. A deep sadness had made a home for itself. It was in the small things. Her posture, her subtle frown, but most of all her eyes. Eyes that Y/N suspected had seen too many people die.

She gave a small tug to get Pol’s attention. “Actually, I was a bastard long before I met Thomas.” Pol’s brows furrowed so she continued, “Da wasn’t exactly a law abiding citizen. Hell, if I’d been a man I’d probably be in the same position as Thomas.”

A silence settled between them as they both came to terms with Y/N’s past. The doctor didn’t seem to care much about what was said around him. He only spoke to instruct Y/N to move.

Finally Pol spoke, “While I don’t doubt the legitimacy behind your claim, you have,” she paused searching for the right words, “a certain level of education that isn’t typically available to people of our status.”

Y/N shrugged and immediately got scolded by the doctor. “Over-achieving bastard child. Not much else to it.”

Pol leveled her with a knowing gaze but enough had been shared that night. For the rest of the evening they either chatted idly or Pol dozed. The continuous attention was starting to wear Y/N out even beyond her limits.

She vaguely wondered if she was going soft after the war. Then she remembered that she’d been traipsing around town, got kidnapped, beat to hell and walked back on her own. Y/N allowed herself a small smile. Today was a productive day.

“It’ll take a couple months for your ribs and toe to heal but they’ll do it with little assistance. You must stay off your feet however. Especially if you ever want to walk again.” Doctor Tanish’s voice startled Y/N out of her thoughts.

She glanced at Pol’s dozing figure before replying, “I’ve beaten those odds before. But I’ll try not to push my luck.”

He gave her a curt nod and left.

Y/N glanced around the room, grimacing as she remembered that her flat was upstairs. She also had no way to pay for it now until she was healthy enough to work again.

A soft knock got her attention. There by the door was Thomas, peeking his head through as if he were walking into her bed chamber not his office.

“How are you holding up?” Deep circles had carved themselves underneath his eyes. His already drawn features took on a more extreme form in the dim candlelight.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I’m doing pretty well, all things considering. I might need help upstairs, though.”

Thomas cleared his throat before entering the room. He paused a moment to consider the best course of action. Then with little warning he simply picked her up. She bit back a startled yelp, clinging to Thomas as he moved easily with her in his arms.

“Tommy!” she hissed. Y/N couldn’t properly lift her arms to wrap them around him securely, so she clung to the front of his shirt with all she had. Her knuckles turned white instantly.

He simply chuckled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘Tommy’ since you got back. Maybe I should pick you up more.”

Y/N could already feel her ears heating up. “Don’t try and distract me with flirting.”

“Why not? It usually works.”

She didn’t reply as they reached her room. With horror she realized that her key was still in the pocket of her jacket. Which was probably in the back of some copper’s car.

Thomas seemed to read her mind, “You don’t have the key anymore do you?”

She shook her head.

He gently set Y/N down, careful not to jostle her. Then produced a pair of lockpicks, making quick work of the shoddy lock. A few moments later Y/N was sinking into her mattress slowly.

Thomas kneeled beside her. She couldn’t see him; the darkness clouded his features. He reached out, fingertips the barest touch against her skin, to brush her hair out of her face.

Y/N would later blame the overall shittiness of the day for what she did next. She leaned into the touch. Her own hand reached up to cup his and press it to her lips. Thomas froze. But he didn’t pull away.

“Y/N.” His voice was gravilier than usual.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it felt like all the years that had been lost came back to life in seconds, all at once. Something between them had faded over time. Now was the first time either of them had actually reached back out for it. It was a tenderness they’d never let the world see. A secret of the trenches. A dream of what could be.

Eventually, the spell broke, and she released her hold on him. At first he didn’t pull away. Then he stood, ending the moment all too quickly.

Thomas cleared his throat, “I...I need to head out. If I catch you on your feet, I swear I’ll send Aunt Pol after you.”

Y/N chuckled, and pretended her smile was as genuine as she wanted it to be. “I’ll have to be careful and make sure you don’t catch me then.”

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N let the darkness envelope her as she rolled onto her back. Her movements were stiff with pain. Exhaustion seeped into her joints and with Thomas gone there was nothing left to distract her.

For the first time since it’d happened she let her mind wander over the events of the day, a sob ripped itself from her throat. Then another. She pressed the palm of her hand into her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle herself. But Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from streaming like trails of fire down her cheeks.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #reader insert #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine

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suckmysupernatural · 4 years

Text

Excedrin and Crackers

Word Count: ~1200, Oneshot

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: migraine pain, nausea

Summary: Reader is a migraine sufferer and has been since before Dean and her met. Dean helps make her comfortable after finding her in bed, laid up with yet another migraine.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! I actually wrote the first draft it while having a migraine myself. -----------------------------------------------------

After working on the impala all day, Dean was ready to eat dinner with his sweetheart. He expected to find Y/N in the library, curled up with one of the Y/A novels that she liked to read on days off. Yet, when he walked into the room there was no sign of her. Before becoming worried Dean decided to check the room that the two of you shared. Walking into the bedroom, he switched on the lights only to be met with a low groan.

“Migraine. The light, make it stop” Y/N plead as the light burned her sensitive eyes.

“Oh shit,” Dean whispered, quickly shutting off the light, “I’m sorry baby.” He gave a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before making his way over to the curled up figure on the mattress. Dean had become well accustomed to Y/N’s migraines. This was one in the long line of migraines that she had dealt with, as she had been suffering from them since childhood.

It made hunting 10 times harder. Before teaming up with the brothers, Y/N had worked solo - or at least tried to. Most of the hunts she attempted to go on during that time were interrupted by migraines, requiring Y/N to call in another hunter to take over while she was holed up in a ratty motel.

Luckily, with Sam and Dean she didn’t need to worry about it. If a migraine took Y/N out for a day or two she could hop back into the hunt once she felt better. The brothers never pushed her to stop hunting, which she was grateful for. Having a chronic condition already made Y/N feel useless enough, she didn’t need anyone to remind her of that.

It didn’t take long for Dean and her to become a couple once she started hunting with them. They had been together for a few years now, with Dean becoming a pro at making Y/N feel as comfortable as possible during a migraine.

Sitting on the bed, Dean slowly moved his hand to start caressing Y/N’s hair, using slow and light strokes that instantly calmed your body. Dean always had that effect on her, but especially when she was in pain. Inhaling, Y/N quickly grabbed at her head.

“I’m sorry… you smell like car grease. It’s making it worse,” she whined in pain.

“I’m so sorry! Damn, I’m not helping too much right now am I?” Dean frowned, “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna shower.”

Y/N nodded and rolled over so she could squish her face into the pillow, letting out a small whine. Dean made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his dirty clothes and tossing them into the hamper that sat in the bathroom. Looking under the sink, he found a bar of unscented soap tucked in the back. He didn’t want to use a scented body wash and make Y/N’s migraine worse. He scrubbed off the grease as fast as possible so he could get back and take care of her. Leaving the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way back to the bedroom.

He walked in the door, tip-toeing to the dresser and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants. He slipped them on before making his way back over to Y/N.

“Is there anything you need me to get before joining you, sweetheart?” Dean asked, making sure to keep his voice as low as possible.

“Excedrin… please, and… um...something bland… help the nausea.” Y/N responded with difficulty. Her mind was foggy, requiring more focus to speak than normal. Dean quickly hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a sleeve of crackers and the medicine. He came back to the room, placing the items on the nightstand next to the half-empty glass of water Y/N seemed to be nursing.

Dean leaned over, placing a hand behind Y/N’s shoulder, guiding her to sit up. She did so, nausea hitting her as soon as she was fully up. Dean handed her two Excedrin and the glass of water. With shaky hands, Y/N slowly opened her mouth and placed the pills on her tongue. Taking a small sip of water, she handed the glass back to Dean. He pulled out a cracker and gave it to her. Chewing, Y/N’s eyes began to tear up from the pain that shoots into her jaw.

“Baby, what's wrong?” Dean asked. Y/N lifted one hand, tapping a finger to her jaw. Knowingly, Dean nodded and climbed into the bed. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close. He used his hand to draw circles on her bicep. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief as Y/N relaxed into his arms. Crying only made the pain worse and he didn’t want her to suffer any more than she had to.

His phone buzzed, being met with a small groan from Y/N. Dean quickly pulled it from his pocket seeing that it was a text from Sam.

Found a case. Cali. You down to head out tonight?

Y/N has a migraine. Can it wait till morning? Dean replied, turning down the brightness on his phone.

Yeah, sounds good. Let me know if she needs anything.

Dean responded with a thumbs up and put his phone on Do Not Disturb. Turning back to her, he laid down and pulled Y/N in close. Letting her head burrow into the crook of his neck, she whimpered softly.

In Dean’s head, he cursed Chuck at the fact that this was one monster he couldn’t kill. Keeping her safe and happy was his top priority, but right now he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fix it or make her pain go away. Listening to her noises of pain, Dean’s eyes began to water. He would make a crossroad deal to help her feel better but he knew that she would kick his ass.

Little did he know what Y/N was thinking. After handling migraines alone for so long, nothing felt better than being in Dean’s arms. She was so grateful for the man who did everything in his power to help when needed the most.

Quickly Y/N’s breathing became in sync with Dean’s, calm and slow. His soothing energy flowed over her, her eyelids beginning to lull.

“Love you” she mumbled into Dean’s chest. He smiled to himself before responding.

“Love you too. Sleep darling.”

Within a few minutes, she was asleep, Y/N’s body fully relaxing for the first time all day. Dean was incredibly relieved. He knew that if she were asleep, the pain couldn’t get to her. Dean ran his fingers through Y/N’s hair, staring at her peaceful face. He felt a small sense of pride, knowing that he had helped her fall asleep. Once he was sure that Y/N wasn't’ going to wake up anytime soon, Dean let his own eyes shut, drifting off into a deep sleep. Y/N dreamed of nothing but woke up to what felt like a dream itself.

Feeling her head rise and fall, she remembered falling asleep cuddled on Dean’s chest. His even breathing indicated that he was still out and she slowly turned her head up to see his face.

Looking at him, Y/N smiled. She was the luckiest girl ever. Not only did she wake up without any pain, but she had an amazing man to enjoy it with.

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insanelycooljk · 4 years

Note

You mentioned ⚡⚡⚡was the worst for angst so now I Have To Ask

send me the title of one of my deh wips and I’ll share an excerpt/tell you a bit about it

Ok I definitely only mentioned that because I was hoping someone might ask about it lmao. I’d argue that this is more like... hurt than angst, but it’s gonna be hurt/comfort, so hopefully the sweet moments make up for it. You can expect a lot of soft kleinsen lol.

This one it was like 3am and there was a huge storm outside. I was sitting by my window watching the lightning, I’d just finished reading Trying Through the Trauma and a particular scene was on my mind (if you’ve read it you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you haven’t I highly reccomend it because that fic is wonderful, the world-building is INSANE).

So given all of that, plus my apparent desire to just hurt all the characters I love, my brain was like “hey... what if Jared got struck by lightning?”

Which I KNOW sounds absolutely ridiculous and like some kind of crack fic, but just bare with me here ok.

For maximum angst, the fic begins with Jared storming out of Evan’s house after a fight.

I haven’t worked out all of the details of the fight yet, but basically there was an attempt at an apology/discussion of Evan’s letter that didn’t go so well and things got a bit heated.

Jared’s hurt and angry, so he runs away because that’s what he does.

It’s absolutely pissing down, it’s at least a 15/20 minute walk back to his house, but Jared’s a stubborn bastard and he just needs to get out of there.

Evan’s stuck in his head trying to process how the hell that went so badly, because he’s hurt and angry too, but then a particulary loud clap of thunder snaps him out of his thoughts. He’s not sure why the hell Jared walked here instead of drove (it was because he wanted the extra time to try and plan what he was going to say to Evan), but Heidi will kill him if she finds out he just let Jared walk all the way home in this weather.

So he runs outside after Jared to tell him to stop being an idiot and at least just wait until it stops raining so much

And of course Evan catches up with Jared just in time to see him get struck

Evan is just frozen in absolute horror because what the fuck. What the fuck. Who the hell gets struck by lightning!? That just doesn’t happen in real life. What the fuck.

His brain finally catches up to him and he rushes over to Jared who’s just convulsing on the ground.

Evan’s hands are shaking but he manages to call 911. Once the ambulance is on their way he’s just staring helplessly at Jared still seizing on the ground, and all he can think is Jared is going to die and the last thing they did was fight.

Another minute or so passes and Jared’s seizure suddenly ends. Evan’s just holding his breath because he has no idea what he should do. Being a nurse and all, Heidi’s taught him how to do basic CPR incase of emergencies, but Evan’s in such a state of panic that he can’t do anything

And then Jared opens his eyes. It takes a second for the pain to catch up to him, the ringing in his ears is loud and oh fuck everything hurts his whole body is on fire

Evan is freaking the fuck out now that Jared is awake and crying, and he’s desperately trying to comfort him and is begging the ambulance to hurry the fuck up. And god this is so much worse now that Jared’s conscious, because Jared just doesn’t break down. The last time Evan probably saw him cry was when he stacked it on his bike when they were kids (unless you count the unshed tears shining in his eyes during their gfy fight and most recent fight, which Evan is pointedly NOT counting lmao, he can’t deal with that right now)

Anyway, the paramedics finally arrive and give Jared some serious painkillers and take him to the hospital because honestly they’re not really sure what to do either. It’s not like there’s a special “lightning strike survivor” class in the paramedicine curriculum lol. Jared didn’t go into cardiac arrest or anything so that’s a good sign, but he’s obviously in pain and he’s got some really nasty burns that need looking at so he’s clearly not fine.

And of course, for more maximum angst, they take him to the hospital Heidi works at. Because of course they do. Heidi’s had a fairly quiet night at work, or at least as as quiet as it can be working at a hospital. But then she overhears something about a kid who got struck by lightning!? And Heidi is like damn… well that doesn’t happen every day. She’s currently on her break but she’s understandably pretty curious, so she decides she’ll just go see what’s going on.

Which of course leads to her finding an extremely distraught looking Evan who is absolutely drenched, and any other thoughts are gone from her mind instantly.

Evan all but collapses into her arms. She’s holding him tightly as he just sobs and sobs and he’s shivering and so cold and why is he so wet? And obviously Heidi just wants to be there for him but the she’s starting to panic and she needs to know what’s wrong. She pulls away, still holding his shoulders tightly, to look him in the face.

“Evan, honey talk to me. What happened?” And he just manages to choke out “It’s Jared, it’s…. he,” but he can’t get the words out because he keeps being interrupted by his own sobs. And now Heidi is really worried because what happened with Jared? Is he ok? “He…” Evan can’t continue because he just lets out this choked cry and breaks into even harder sobs. Which causes Heidi to promptly pull him close again.

Evan is just, exhausted. Like, he was so tense and upset after the fight with Jared, and then THAT happened, and he’s been doing his best to not completely fall apart so he could explain what happened to the paramedics, but it’s just all so much, and all he wants his mum to hold him and tell him everything’s going to be ok.

“He’s hurt,” Evan says finally once his breathing is bit more under control and he can finally speak again. “He…. there was lightning and, and-”

And Heidi’s heart just stops because she suddenly remembers the boy that supposedly got struck by lightning and she does not like where this is going.

Jared’s mostly ok physically. He’s got some really nasty burns and he’s in a lot of pain, plus the strike was super loud so he’s got some bad tinnitus, but nothing that really needs monitoring. So he’s only in the hospital for a couple of days.

However, the thing with lightning strikes is it can do a lot of weird neurological damage that scientists and doctors don’t really understand yet. So a lot of survivors suffer from things like personality changes, mood swings, memory loss and chronic pain.

So in terms of symptoms for Jared he struggles with chronic pain. It’s not like a low-level constant pain, it’s more episodes where he’s in extreme pain for a short period of time and then it fades away again. He got struck on his shoulder, so the pain flares up on his shoulder and down his arm on that side of his body.

His burns take a while to heal, and whilst his tinnitus gets much better it’s always there to an extent. He’s also got some issues with fatigue, it’s not terrible but he definitely gets tired more easily than he used to.

Jared doesn’t really have any issues with like, personality changes or anything, but the whole experience was pretty tramautic, so his mental health definitely isn’t great right now.

Obviously, Jared’s pretty fucking terrified of thunderstorms now. He pretty much just refuses to leave his house if there’s a storm.

One time he’s driving himself and Evan home from school and it starts raining and he just – refuses to leave the car. There’s not even thunder but the sky is dark and it’s raining pretty heavily and Evan’s all like “It’s ok, come on. It’s two metres. Just take my hand and we’ll run inside together ok?” And poor Jared is having a panic attack, just gasping for air, and he’s shaking his head and saying “I can’t.”

And Evan kinda tries a couple more suggestions to coax him inside, because like they literally just have to walk from the driveway to Evan’s front door. There is a 0% chance that anything would happen in the 5 seconds it would take to get inside, and there isn’t even any thunder, it’s just raining heavily.

Eventually he gives up and they just sit in the car together waiting for the storm to pass. Evan can’t help but think how ironic it is that he’s the one who has to help Jared through his own panic attacks now.

But the main complications Jared struggles with are the cognititve issues. Jared’s always been pretty smart and has done well in school, so he finds it really hard to deal with.

He REALLY struggles with his memory at first. Mainly short-term memory. He’ll do things like make lunch multiple times because he forgot he ate already. He struggles with reading and writing and keeps tripping over his sentences. It all improves a lot over time, but it never quite gets 100% better.

But yeah, that’s kind of the hardest part for Jared because it’s just frustrating and confusing. It causes him a lot of distress because it makes him feel so stupid.

One time when he’s really struggling with it, maybe whilst trying to do work for school, Jared just breaks down about it because he just feels so frustrated. He ends up crying into Evan’s shoulder and going “I just want to be better”

Evan says nothing, because he’s been doing an obsessive amount of research and the truth is Jared might not ever be “better” again, and he doesn’t want to lie to Jared. Well, he certainly wants to, we all know about Evan’s lying issues lmao. He desperately wants to tell Jared comforting lies like “it’s ok” and “there’s nothing wrong with you” and “of course you’ll get better” but he holds his tongue because he knows he can’t lie to Jared, not about this.

ANYWAY ahahaha, I got a little carried away with this one but I’ve got a LOT of feelings about it. It will end up with kleinsen because I couldn’t resist, so on that note I do have just one last point I HAVE to share 🥺

So a lot of people who get struck by lightning end up with these really kind of beautiful looking scars called Lichtenberg figures. They normally only last a day or two (although I did read about one guy where they lasted like a month) but uhh.... I will be taking some artisitic liberities there lmao because imaging Evan gently tracing over Jared’s scars when they finally get together? Good shit.

#⚡⚡⚡#anyway thank you for indulging me with this one #it's been fun but sad researching for it #also Jared definitely like… tries to make this his Thing #like he’s not coping well so he just pretends it’s actually awesome #he keeps making jokes about being the flash and not even god being able to strike him down lmao #oh boy and if he ever has to do icebreakers? one of those 'tell the class a fun fact about yourself' things?#he's just like everyone else stfu and go home because there is no way in hell you can beat this #but yes lots of soft kleinsen for this one #unfortunately no super speed or lightning powers though lol #deh wips prompt #zoe writes #deh #jared kleinman #kleinsen #evan hansen

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shauds-archived · 5 years

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Hi, I absolutely love your writing! Your fics on AO3 are amazing, Simplicity is one of my all time favorites. For the request prompts, would you do JaySteph+ tactile? Thank you so much ❤️ have a great day!

Thank you so much! I tried to write you something in the Simplicity verse, but it wasn’t working, so I just tried to match the tone instead.

Stephanie’s a pretty tactile person, and she’s decided that a certain ex-Robin could use some tactileness in his life. Which works out great, because she could use a certain ex-Robin in hers.

They’ve met before, of course, but that was always just fun comm chatter. The first time Jason meets her in person is that week Riddler decided to do a throwback to being an actual threat and set up a dozen or so deathtraps around the city. He’d agreed to give them a hand because deathtraps trumps pissing contest with Bruce, and it was nice for once to be handed intell instead of either beating it out of thugs or stealing it.

It’s not that she appears out of nowhere or anything, he sees her coming, it’s just that she doesn’t look either pissed or any more nervous than he’s used to having people around him. He just assumes she’s going to keep going to meet with one of the Bats huddled together on the far side of the cave and ignores her. Which is… well he thinks is a mistake when her arms wrap around his torso and he jumps like a cat facing off against a very large dog and drops the helmet he had tucked under his arm. A dog that’s warm and smells like vanilla and is squeezing him arm enough to feel through his body armor.

”You’re Jason huh?” She pulls back with a grin on her face before he can react further, squints up at him for a couple moments, studying him with her hands clasped in front of her, not reaching for any weapons. It takes her little over a second for her shoulders to hitch it a shrug he cant’s quite decipher, then hold out a hand. “I’m Steph.”

”Uh.” Jason blinks at the hand hovering between them, then turns to where the Bats are watching the exchange, and then back to her almost hopeful expression. She smiles at him and Jason works against the sudden heaviness in his arm to clap her hand in his own and give it one firm shake.

The smile morphs to a full on grin then and Jason almost wants to close his eyes for how bright it is. “Nice to meet ya.” He gently punches his shoulder when she walks by him and vanishes in the direction of the showers.

”Did she just hug me?” He asks no one in particular and indeterminable amount of time later. A couple of them erupt into chuckles, Jason’s still too dazed to figure out which and beat them down for it.

***

The next time it happens, Jason’s staking out a meet between the two little upstart gangs who’ve figured his old territory in Crime Alley is up for the taking. Killing them’s not the plan, but it won’t hurt to remind them what a good shot he is, then bankrupt them, make a real good example. He’s just waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger on this brand new, never before used, high-accuracy LA115A3 he found in his safe-house a couple days ago.

Talks are heating up, plenty of shouting, and he’s starting to worry he won’t have to do anything to break apart their little alliance when there’s the twang of a line pulling taut and he catches sight of an inky black cape dropping down behind him.

”Not gonna kill em.” He rolls his eyes, expecting Bruce. Instead, he only just manages to flick the safety on before he’s, knocked aside by the sheer unexpectedness more than the force off the half-assed tackle from behind. The tackle hug. He freezes up. So, not Bruce then.

”Hi Hood.” She tightens the hug minutely and presses her cheek against his helmet, then pulls back to squat down beside him. “So what’s the situation here?” She pulls out some binoculars.

”What are you doing?” The phantom feeling of her weight pressed against him strains his voice, but the modulator evens it out for him, and thank god for that. Makes it easier to not have to deal with it.

”Backup.” Her tongue pokes out from behind her glossy lips as she adjusts the zoom on her binoculars, then settles in to watch. “Perks of the whole teamwork thing.” She turns to offer him a grin. “Pretty great huh?”

Jason turns quickly back to his scope so he doesn’t have to look at her anymore. “Don’t need back up.” The shouting has died down and they wannabe crimelords are talking like human beings again, almost look like they’re going to come to some kind of an agreement, almost time for Jason to mess that up.

”Yeah you and every other Batboy.” She scoffs and scooches a little closer to him, close enough that, even though it’s probably all in his head, he can feel the warmth radiating off her.

He does his best to ignore the heat he feels creeping up his neck in response and tries to focus on his job.

***

It happens again, and again. Every time they cross paths, even if only for a few moments even if it’s in the middle of a smack down with a jumble of thugs, she will, without fail hug, or attempt to hug him. Jason checks his pockets, but never finds that they’ve been picked, he never finds that any trackers have been slipped onto any part of his body. She’s never taken advantage of his shock, either before or after to attack him. There is no logical or illogical reasoning he can find behind why she keeps doing this to him.

When he brings it up to Dick one time when they’re stuck in a small lifeboat together, escaping the a yacht that’s just gone up in smoke, and flames, all he gets is laughed at, and Dick gets thrown over the edge of the boat to swim himself to safety. Asshole.

The most confusing part of the whole thing is that, once he’s crossed off any potentially malicious intent, Jason finds he doesn’t mind. He comes to expect when his eyes catch sight of her, and he doesn’t look for paths of avoiding the contact.

“Hey there Jay.” She greets one night while Jason’s making use of the Batcomputer for some chemical analyses he doesn’t have the patience to do in his own right now. Her arms slink around his shoulders and stay there, as she rests her head on top of his. No one calls him Jay anymore and Jason feels warmth building in his chest that has only a little to do with her body heat. “You working on new drugs to build your empire on?”

Jason snorts and, without thinking about what he’s doing, he leans his head back to press against her collarbone. He should be offended, shouldn’t he? He’d be offended if any of the others made a joke like that. At least, he thinks he would. He doesn’t know right now. “Shh”, he presses a finger against her lips, “don’t tell the others.”

She laughs at him and drops her head to his shoulder, she’s resting it on her arms, but he can still feel the warmth, the cool puffs of her breaths against his neck. She smells more of vanilla tonight than usual, or maybe it’s just that she’s so close, and she’s not moving away this time. He spends more time in front of the computer that night that he’s planned on, but somehow, as long as she’s there, he keeps coming up with just one more thing he needs to use it for.

Even when that one more thing is this kitten video he absolutely has to watch, she insists, her lips very, very close to his. He could just… He shakes the thought off before it’s had a chance to fully form and quickly moves on to the next video.

”Hey,” she flicks his ear after a while and Jason turns to her, tries to make it look begrudging. “Everyone’s asleep, you wanna raid the kitchen?”

He glances at the computer and the muppets music video still playing on the screen, then lets his eyes linger on her. “Eh, what the hell.” He shrugs and only flinches a little when her arm links with his as though he needs to be lead upstairs.

***

The first time he actually returns her hug is another time he’s not really thinking, or maybe he’s thinking too hard. He’s sitting on the edge of the highest point of Wayne Tower, watching steam rise up off the styrofoam cup of soup he picked up off a street vendor as it twists it the wind, then dissipates into nothingness against the overcast skies, gone forever. It looks like it should be warm, but he barely feels it, not even when he can bring himself to sip on the salty liquid.

It’s not a day he wants to spend around them. When she shows up, this time without a word of greeting, just to sit down next to him and squeeze her way under his arms to tuck herself against his side, a huge part of him wants to push her away. To let out the all the anger and frustration and bucket loads of emotion he’s gotten so good at hiding behind sarcasm in the name of peace. The bigger part of him though, the part that’s exhausted by a night of phantom pains and laughter in his head; it’s like a black hole that sucks up the rest of everything else and leaves him too cold for the soup to work against.

That’s the part that drops the cup and turns to fold him over her, wrap his arms around her and press her head into the crook of his shoulder and just hold her, just absorb what little he can of the suns worth of warmth she has to offer.

”Why do you keep doing…?” His voice hitches and he stifles it by burying his face in her hair.

”You have a chronic hug deficiency, I like hugs.” Her voice is soft, but steady as her fingers brush against the pulse at his neck, then grip his jacket. “’Nd I like you. Works out.”

Jason tries to laugh, the only response he can think of, but it turns into a sob, and he’s hard pressed to make any other kind of sound for a while.

When he sees her again a week later, neither of them bring it up, but she does give a short, soft, happy squeal when he hugs her back.

***

”Jason.” Bruce says, he’d been about to pull his cowl over his head, but he pauses when Jason doesn’t immediately run off to get started on the job he said he’s help them with – installing some surveillance equipment in some dumbass’s crappy apartment.

”Relax, I got all night.” Jason’s resting against the computer console, slapping Bruce’s big chair in lazy circles while he watches the driveway, listening for the near silent engine of Batgirl’s bike.

”And you’d rather spend that night playing with the furniture than on a patrol.” Bruce still hasn’t put his cowl back on, is still watching Jason, his expression as close to confusion as Jason’s seen since he got back.

”Ya don’t want me here, all ya gotta do is…” he start’s kicking off from the console to approach Bruce.

”He’s waiting for his huuug.” Dick half sings, from where he’s busy restocking his dumb utility bracelets.

”Your what?” Bruce blinks, and now he really does look confused, his eyes darting uncertainly between Jason and Dick.”

”Shut up Dick.” Jason glares warningly when he sees the grinning idiot opening his idiot mouth to speak. Dick, the bastard just grins wider and Jason can already tell he’s going to have to physically stop him.

”Do you want…” Bruce drops the cowl to hang around his neck and awkwardly spreads his arms, “me to give you a…”

”NO!” Jason yells, backing away from the man so fast he almost trips and Dick almost doubles over in laughter. Now Jason knows the owner of at least one of the voices that had chuckled at him that first time, and as soon as he gets his head straight he’s going to…

”Aw, you waited for me.” Stephanie doesn’t appear from the driveway, but from the stairs that lead up to the manor. Jason’s arms close around her, and he doesn’t care so much about Dick’s laughter, doesn’t notice that it cuts off almost as soon as Jason pulls Stephanie close and she burrows into his jacket.

***

”So, I’ve been thinking.” Stephanie shows up at his current safehouse. He doesn’t know how she found it, but he’s stopped trying so hard to hide them, so he doesn’t wonder too hard, especially not when her hands link up behind his neck and she stands on the tips of her toes to get her eyes as level with his as she can.

”Sure ya should be doing that there Blondie?” Jason croaks out as soon as he can find his breath. She’s not in the batgirl suit, or in post-patrol/workout sweats. What she is wearing isn’t particularly fancy, just jeans and a very fluffy looking orange sweater, but it’s… nice. He doesn’t know if he should tell her that.

”You remember how I said you don’t get enough hugs?” She squints at him and tugs his head down just a little more. Jason shrugs in reply and finally let’s go of his doorframe. She cocks her head to the side. “And I also kinda said I liked you, and you didn’t really say anything back?”

”Yeah, you and like five people on this Earth.” He has to think a little to remember that particular conversation. “I’m not sure what…” wait. Jason frowns down at her, but the look she directs at him, eyes narrowed and her brows raised, her lips drawn into a straight line.

”Guess I shouldna used playground terminology on someone as dense as you, huh?” The expression melts away and he has barely a couple seconds to see the red flush across her cheeks before she ducks her head and hides it from sight.

Wait. “There’s no way you meant…” Her head snaps up and it’s Jason’s turn to duck his from her view. There’s really just no way, but he can still feel her watching him, and then her hand gently closes around his jaw and turns his eyes to meet hers.

Her expression is still incredibly serious when she says. “I’ve decided you don’t get enough kisses either, but I can’t exactly tell if you’re up for kisses.”She bites down on her lips and releases the hold her hand has on his neck, the warmth there almost immediately being replaced with an unpleasant chill. “Totally okay of you’re not though, you can still…

Before the traitorous parts of his brain make him reconsider, Jason holds her chin much the same way as she did his, he leans in to meet her lips with his. She lets out a surprised squeak, and Jason almost pulls back, but then her hands are linked up behind his head again and she’s pulling him even closer, and, well the traitorous parts of his brain kind of need oxygen to function well enough to betray him. Jason’s more that up for kisses.

***

Stephanie’s a very tactile person. It probably comes from growing up with a mom who was never quite able to give her much attention, and a father who’s attention Steph didn’t usually want, even if he were willing to give it out. Things are better now, sure, with Dad gone and Mom trying to catch up on the whole bonding thing. It’s great, but it’s a little late for it to impact Steph’s personality much right now. To reiterate, the many hugs and head pats and forehead kisses from Mom are great, Steph has no desire whatsoever to lessen their frequency. In fact, she’s determined to dole out as many hugs and head pats and forehead kisses of her own as humanely possible.

Which works out great, depending on whose side you’re looking at it from, because it’s her unprofessional, but still incredibly expert opinion that Jason hasn’t gotten enough hugs, and she’s in the perfect position to deliver them, along with all the head pats and forehead kisses and… various other forms of kisses he also doesn’t get enough of. And Jason, after a brief adjustment period, is more than happy to soak up all the attention like a touch-starved sponge and respond in kind.

See, it works out great… for Jason and Stephanie that is, for the Bats that have to deal with it just about every second the two of them are together? Not so much.

#jason todd #stephanie brown #jaysteph #fanfiction #mine

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thesickpanda · 5 years

Text

2018 All But Finished Me

I haven't been able to write in this blog for several months because I have been too ill, too sore, too busy or too depressed. I have been besieged by Myofascial Pain Syndrome and the unending neck spasms it has given me for months and months.

I'm now using the latest version of Dragon NaturallySpeaking which cost a pretty penny and doesn't feel a great deal more accurate than the one I bought in 2007. But it's the only way I can get my voice out there, even if it does mean I'm going to have to edit all the mistakes it makes until I want to scream.

2018 was a horrible year. I'm grateful for the lessons I learned, for some of the connections I made and for my good friends who truly love me. I'm grateful for a few other things, like my partner finally getting a job close to home, making his caring role easier. I'm grateful that we were able to live in our rented house undisturbed by landlords booting us out with only one month’s notice. And I'm grateful to have finally acquired medicinal cannabis, with which I have had a complicated relationship but which ultimately has improved my sleep and to a lesser extent my back pain. Those are the things I am grateful for.

But I'm also absolutely exhausted. It's 2019 now and I just can't. I feel myself looking up at a tidal wave of oncoming depression because I pushed myself way too hard, endured far too much abuse, suffered way too many setbacks and lost too much mobility in 2018. And I haven't had any time to recover from that. The year just rolled onto the next one and I am still hitting the ground running on empty and part of me just wants to give up. I laugh at this notion, because I don't even know what giving up looks like. I can't lie in bed all day feeling low because it is literally too excruciating to stay static for that long. No matter how depressed I get, the pain always drives me out of bed. Nor can I sit on the couch and stare into space/watch TV for the same reasons. But I also can't run, or go for long walks, because of mobility issues. I don’t want to do anything, but not doing anything causes me pain and doing stuff causes me pain and sometimes I can't figure out which one is gonna hurt worse and I simply want to spontaneously combust and evaporate into the ether.

Anyway. This is going to be a healing exercise, where I take stock of what 2018 did to me, so that I can properly survey the damage done. Only then can I really acknowledge what happened to me and start to make plans on how to self-repair. By doing this analysis I will also have a better idea of what not to do this year. I already have a few ideas, but I think I'll be able to further develop this with myself and my psychologist if I just get it all off my chest and spell it out.

2018: A Chronicle

January: Recovering from foot surgery. It's summer and I can't go for my bushwalks to look for my spiders and birds (a passion of mine) because my foot is still too sore. I also am dealing with the fallout of a feud I had with both my sister and mother over inheritance (the money my beloved father left when he died in 2011). I basically say I don’t want any, because it’s not worth the stress, and this ends the standoff. It’s a disgustingly stressful period in my life. I have been given little instruction on how to heal from neuroma surgery and so I use the Internet to get tips. I can only walk a few minutes and I slowly have to pace up for the next few months. In the meantime, I have a stressful meeting with my new committee in which a plan for a fundraiser I really don't want to do (based on how stressful it was last year) is voted in and I'm left with a daunting task I'm not sure I can tackle. At the end of January I contract athlete's foot which will haunt me for a further seven months because my immune system is so shot.

February: This is the month I decide to come off Lyrica, a useless drug I have been stuck on for many years due to its severe withdrawal effects. I consult with my GP (my first mistake) on how to come off this drug. She tells me to knock off 25 mg every week or two. I'd like to make a PSA that this is way, way, way too fast for someone who has been on this drug for eight years. During the month of February I start to have hallucinations, panic attacks, derealisation, and what can only be described as very sudden and intense impulses to self-harm and/or die. I physically beat myself up and end up calling the suicide hotline for the first time in my life. It takes me until the end of February to realise withdrawing from the drug is doing this. I stabilise my dose and two weeks later the depression has gone. But I'm shaken to my core by what this drug has done to me. I am too afraid to come off it. In the middle of all that I'm trying to keep going with my rehabilitation, my volunteer work, commitments to family and friends. Nobody knows but my partner and my Dr, who insists Lyrica doesn't have these withdrawal effects. On top of all this, one of our young rats dies of a heart attack. Despite taking her to the vet, she died an hour later in my partner's arms.

March: March is women's history month and also has International women's Day and Mardi Gras. So, for a feminist activist it's a very busy month. I've always associated March with intense stress but also moments of joy. As usual, I do far too much. I go to too many events, too many festivals, set back my own healing and push too hard. I oscillate from intense self-care to reckless over commitment. I do all the exercises the physiotherapist has given me and I am rigid with my exercise plan. But I also go out and push beyond my limits and suffer the consequences. I also learn the hard way that I can't trust my partner's family to understand my needs when I am at family events. I get gaslit, left to suffer in a corner and am judged. That month I also host a friend from another city. Thankfully, this friend is one of the only other people I know who understands my illness and knows how to be there for me.

April: I host a friend from the UK. While it was lovely to see her, I find hosting exhausting. She is a good friend but she is not well herself and I worry about her, despite my best efforts not to. This month my partner loses his job suddenly, just three days before my mother arrives from the UK. The same day she arrives, there is a small accident that smashes the side mirror of my partner's car. Long story short, this leads to a mechanic telling my partner that there is a whole host of things wrong with his car and so begins a nightmare 8 weeks in which it keeps breaking down, costing us thousands to repair. We are under tremendous financial stress and my partner is jobhunting at the same time. On top of all this, my mother, who has a severe mental illness, becomes completely and utterly unbearable. She is with us for 4 weeks, in which time I have three complete nervous breakdowns. I self-harm. All of the abuses and traumas from my childhood are relived and I feel like a decade of therapy is undone in the space of a few weeks.

May: Due to limping after the surgery on my left foot, I have overstrained the knee cap on my “good leg” and now have a wandering patella grinding against my bone. My mother is with me from mid-April to mid-May. To try to keep the peace, I try to go out to other places with her and keep her distracted. This means I push my knee way too hard and it gets worse and worse. I need a cane for the first time in my life. Every step is agony but I soldier through because I know that being stuck in the four walls with my mother will do more harm to my mental health than excessive walking could possibly do to my knee. (As usual, I have to choose between the two). There is a chance my family will come across this blog, so I will not go into details as to why my mother was an absolute nightmare and a terror, nor will I extrapolate on how angry I am at her for the shitty childhood she put me through and her insatiable desire to extend that shitty experience well into my adult years. Needless to say, it was one of the worst periods of my life. The day my mother leaves to go back to the UK, my other little rat takes ill and I have to rush to the emergency animal Hospital. She is dead five days later. A week later, I have an unpleasant experience at another of my partner's family events, which prompts me to write an honest, heartfelt (and kind) letter to his sister explaining my chronic illness and why I can't do the things she expects me to do. I receive a truly awful response which I documented in a previous blog post. Everything you're not supposed to say to a person with chronic illness, this person said to me, and some. I'm heartbroken because I thought I could trust her. It takes nearly a month before the penny drops that she hurt me and I receive something of an apology, but not an understanding. I'm well and truly over family, blood related or not, by this point.

June: Winter is always hard my body. My aches and pains get worse. There is a drought, which exacerbates my anxiety over climate change and makes the nights that much more frigid. This is also the month of that dreaded fundraiser I didn't want to do. For the past few months I have been chasing people to do their jobs so that this thing would come together. When it finally does, it doesn't make enough money to sustain the organisation sufficiently (a prediction I made in f-ing January). The person who put it together leaves the country for a job overseas and I am left to clean up the aftermath. I don't want to say mean things about this friend, only that it was a hassle to get her to do an event she insisted on doing at the start of the year. One thing I took away from this stressful experience is that I need to be firm about what I will and won’t commit to, no matter how disappointing that is to some people. I also host yet another friend in this month, who is sick with a cold, putting me on high alert all the time because I have a compromised immune system. He's here to help with the fundraiser, which I appreciate, but I really wish he had let me know he was sick before he arrived. It's an arduous month, fraught with anxiety as I deal with the fallout of my relationship with my partner's sister. I don't feel like I can trust anybody anymore, except my online friends. The only good news I get this month is that I get approved for medical cannabis, which will cost $1000. The day after my birthday, one of our rats unexpectedly dies of pneumonia (at the time I am hosting yet another friend…!). We've had this rescue rat only a few months and it took seven weeks out of the 10 that we had her to get her to get along with our other rat, Kara. Just as they had become friends, she took ill and died very suddenly. We feel so defeated. This is the fourth rat to die this year for reasons well beyond our control.

July: This is a month of medical appointments, both for myself and for my animals. We spend thousands on vet bills alone due to having so many sick rats. The cannabis costs an absolute fortune in this country to acquire through legal means and we spend most of our medical budget for the year on a few small bottles. I keep going back to the physiotherapist, hoping that my knee will recover, but it is very slow going. The cold weather is hard on my body and I have many bad days.

August: My knee is really bad now. The reduced cardio has had a terrible effect on my back pain. I haven't been able to hike or walk much for well over a year. I need to wear a brace every time I go anywhere. I have to pace up all over again. The knee is persistently painful. On top of all this, my Myofascial Pain Syndrome flares up. (I blame the amount of stress and all the nervous breakdowns I had over the winter). My neck is constantly going into spasm on one side or the other. We spend a small fortune on massage therapy. I can barely turn my head most days and typing is excruciating. At the same time, I'm practicing titration with my medical cannabis. For reasons I'll go into more detail on in a later blog entry, it is a difficult process, one that I am still going through even now. I'm also planning an event for September. As usual, 90% of the work falls to me as volunteers repeatedly let me down. I'm picking up the slack, work I can barely do, whilst still in a state of shock from the last few months. At the time I have the most work to do, my muscles put me through sheer Hell. Nothing I try seems to relieve the neck spasms. I get news that a loved aunt has finally died of cancer. The news is delivered by my mother, who uses it as an opportunity to attack me, my diet, my lifestyle and insist I too will soon die. This is the last straw. I stop talking to my mom on a weekly basis and drastically reduce contact. I will only call her on special occasions henceforth, and while she reels against this decision, I hold firm. I am DONE with her shit. Even though this sounds like it was easy to do, it wasn’t; it still hurt profoundly. I needed therapy to get me to this point (which cost $1000 all up). I stopped therapy right after I reduced contact, because I could no longer afford it. (As a side note, this is the 4th therapist to literally beg me to sever ties with my family, based on how sick they make me. I finally (sort of) listened.)

September: I'm stood up multiple times this month by volunteers who expressed interest in joining the organisation and then don't turn up for their interviews. I continue to do the research and work for this event, minus my events manager who left the country. I host the event, never betraying just how ill organising it made me (ironic considering the event was all about chronic illness and medical sexism) and then I take a few days off to go to a country town my partner and I are fond of to attend a festival. We make the terrible mistake of trusting his sister to come in and feed our rats. Surprise surprise: she doesn't. We end up cutting our holiday short, and both my partner and I have complete nervous breakdowns. ALL OF IT just overwhelms us. We ended up pulled over on the side of a dirt road, my partner screaming and kicking rocks, while inside the car I beat my head so hard I bleed, give myself a mild concussion and damage my ear drum (not permanently, thank God). We drive home in silence, broken in more ways than one. Our rats are starving and afraid when get home and by this point all affection and respect I have for his sister is well and truly gone. I don't actively hate her, I just don't want to have anything more to do with her. I know that she was going through some difficulty at that time, but she never once let us know that she was unable to feed them until the last day of our trip. What stung most was over the course of the past 8 years, I poured love and energy into her, was her shoulder to cry on when she was having completely ridiculous “crises” (one being that she had too much stuff, poor little millionaire). I went to every one of her birthdays (she only ever came to one of mine) every one of her special events (she only ever attended one of our 40 events in 8 years and showed NO interest in our feminist work except when she needed our help dealing with a sexist boss; we spent countless hours assisting her with that and offering our expertise). I was there for her in every way she needed me to be there for her and the ONE time I ask a favour of her, she lets me down spectacularly. To say that my trust in people is fractured by this stage is an understatement. I also accidentally get high off my medication, which creates paranoia and panic in me. Because all my experiences of losing control to mind altering drugs (anti-depressants and Lyrica) have been wholly negative, I don't react well to the sensation of being off my head on any substance, even one as safe as cannabis. It is not a gentle high either, as I hallucinate and trip for hours. I get high 2 weeks later, again by accident and to my complete surprise, and forget to take my Lyrica. I go into withdrawal overnight and feel incredibly sick and delusional by morning. When I realise what has happened, I take my Lyrica, but for several days afterwards I keep having attacks of derealisation and time loss. This is not the cannabis. I'm well aware of the difference between Lyrica’s withdrawal effects and cannabis’s stoning effects. But I just don't want to feel drugged in any sense anymore. It is really difficult and frightening for me to continue to take my cannabis medication and I have to drop the dose significantly in order to feel safe doing so. The smaller the dose, the less effective it is at keeping me asleep. It’s a cause of constant consternation for me.

October: My partner loses his job again. The first time he lost his job it was because the factory was suffering commercially and could no longer keep him. The second time was because there was a takeover by an American corporation and they fired all of the Australian staff so that they can employ migrant staff for half the price (a practice that is unfair to migrant and citizen both). Thankfully, my partner is now like a rat on the Titanic: he knows before anybody else does that the ship is sinking. He has been applying for other jobs up until this point and manages to get one just in time. This month, my partner finally starts seeing a psychologist to tackle his depression and addiction. I feel like all year I've been nursing him, nursing friends, being there for family, be there for extended family, and I'm utterly depleted. Thankfully, there is an overlap of about a month (paid) between my partner’s old job and his new job. We are able to take time to work on ourselves and get many things done that we've needed to do for a long time. Despite having let us down, we house sit for his sister and look after her dog while she is away. But that's the last favour I intend on doing for her. My knee is still bad, and I'm still going to physio, and it is taking an eon to get better. The physio says that the constant neck spasms are inflaming my central nervous system which is making me much more sensitive to the pain in my knee which in turn worsens my reaction to pain in the rest of my body. Fibromyalgia and Myofascial Pain Syndrome, plus the acute issue of my knee, have all conspired to put me in a state of constant, unending, often terrible pain. I have to take multiple computer breaks, which are beyond frustrating. At the end of the month, I start hurting in my left foot, in the same region of the neuroma. I'm horrified. Exactly a year after my surgery, I’m getting pain in the same area in the same foot. I have an ultrasound and it’s discovered that I have severe bursitis in four of my toes.

November: Walking becomes extremely difficult. It is like standing on a rusty nail in my left foot which makes me limp on my right leg, which exacerbates my knee problem. I can't walk more than five minutes without being in unbearable pain. Every plan I make has to take in account how much walking I’ll be required to do at any given time, because I just can't walk that far anymore. I'm unhelpfully told by my GP to continue as normal and that it will clear up. I know my body much better than she ever will, and I know that that's not how it's going to work for me. Despite this, I have perhaps the happiest week of the year when I go down to Melbourne to be with my friends. I eat something I shouldn't and have a hard night of extremely painful Irritable Bowel Syndrome, but discover peppermint oil which really helps the pain. Despite this episode, I still feel better in the company of my friends and away from my house of horrors back in Sydney. When we return home, my partner starts his new job, ending the period of time that we could just be together and he could look after me and himself. A few days later, we have to put one of our old rats to sleep as she has advanced cancer and is in a lot of pain. I am heartbroken. We resolve not to get any more rats now, meaning I have to give lots of extra time to our lone rat, Cara, who has managed to outlive so many cage mates thus far. At the end of the month my sister arrives for a three-week visit from the UK.

December: While hosting her is not as bad as hosting my mother, it is still tremendously stressful for complex reasons I don't care to explain on this public blog. Needless to say, my walls are up, and it takes every ounce of strength within me not to react to the many things she does and says that provoke, frustrate and upset me. I simply don’t have the energy for conflict, for deep conversations about our relationship, for her defensive nature or her propensity to fly off the handle when criticised for even the smallest thing. I just don’t react. I just swallow it all down like vomit. During this time it is our AGM for the nonprofit and no one other than the committee and one other person turns up. After all the work I put into it this year, and considering how many volunteers we had on the database at this point, the most ever, no one turning up feels like a slap in the face. The apathy in Sydney is quite something to behold and is not unique to our non-profit. Still, it is bitterly disappointing. We do a lot of travelling in this time, which greatly exacerbates the bursitis. Even though I use my cane and take regular breaks, I'm soon ingesting loads of Nurofen to try to keep the swelling down. The pain is at times excruciating but I don't show it. Just like with my mom, I feel compelled to go out places with my sister. We get along much better when we are doing activities. When we are confined to the four walls of my house, everything is worse. So, once again, I push my body beyond its limits in order to try to save my mental health. My sister leaves 10 days before Christmas. I dread Christmas. I don't want to have to phone my family nor deal with my partner’s. I've had enough of them this year. I'm reeling from all the pain and misery they put me through, and feel drained from all the crap that I had to deal with this year. I am tired. Somehow, I get through Christmas (plagued with anxiety, of course) and then a friend from another city comes to stay with us from Boxing Day til New Year’s Day. I am so done hosting at this point. It's not like he was a bad guest or anything; compared to my family, my friends are delightful. It's just that I was so damn tired. If I were to reveal just how much pain and misery I was experiencing at that point, I would have really worried or put off this friend. So for his benefit I swallow it down to some extent. We are in a terrible heat wave and both of us feel pretty bad. He has a thyroid problem and Fibromyalgia doesn't do well with temperature extremes. It feels like I claw my way to January 1st. He leaves, and my partner goes back to work. And so it begins again.

The Present:

The first few weeks of January have proven to be busy, extremely painful, stressful and anxiety inducing. I have had another bad experience of feeling high on my medicine when I really just don't want to right now. I know that people enjoy getting stoned, but I really feel like my entire world has been out of my control, my health has been out of my control, my mental state has been out of my control, that I just don't want to lose my perception of reality too. I ended up dropping my dose again because I just don't want to have to deal with getting up in the night to pee and feeling stoned, responding with panic attacks and lying awake for an hour wrestling with those feelings of terror and confusion. But I know that I would not be reacting this badly if it weren’t for the terrible experience of the Lyrica (and Cymbalta before that) and everything else that happened in 2018. It's a challenge I know that I could overcome if I weren’t feeling so God damn weak. I know that I can use my skill in reframing things, my practice of self-care, my determination and willpower to get through this, but I just don't have any of that right now. I spent it all on surviving 2018.

I feel so completely and utterly drained. Last night I broke down and sobbed to my partner that I just don't have any spoons left. I feel like last year sucked 10 years of life out of me. I feel depressed and my dreams are laden with images of my family threatening me, abusing me, of telling me that my feelings are the problem, not their behaviour (a line I've heard from them my entire life). I am starting to dream of killing myself. It's a warning sign. This morning, after having a long dream about trying and repeatedly failing to commit suicide, I felt so depressed and so depleted that I was scared. I was scared that that depression that has been stalking me all year is going to get me now. I have managed to keep myself afloat because my partner, who was suffering depression up until late last year, needed me. My family were there and I needed to try get through that. My not-for-profit was falling apart so I had to try and deal with that. Heck, I didn't even go into detail about how many dramas were happening in our social media and how many volunteers who used to be friends backstabbed me and hurt me during the year. I mean, I've written long blog entries about the blood sport that is political activism and the vicious and nasty things people do and say to you in that space. And that crap happened this year, make no mistake. But it goes to show just how horrible 2018 was that I could barely find energy or time to make a mention of it, even in this blog post. It's already too long and I am just too tired to go into detail. Needless to say, in almost every space in my life, I was betrayed and hurt. The only people who I felt I could trust were my fellow spoonies online. I have good friends I have known since childhood who live in North America and the UK whom I speak with over Skype. If I didn't have these people, I wouldn't have any shred of sanity anymore. It is only thanks to these friends that I managed to pull myself through this year. I'm glad to report that my partner is over his depression and is working really hard to try to pick me up right now. He's apologised profusely for leaving me in the lurch during his 2 year Dysthymia, but I don't blame him. Depression is its own disability and he did really well to keep things going through what was a very challenging year for him too. Thing is, we couldn’t both be crumbling pillars, so we just kept going. But I am a bit nervous right now. I feel like I'm not a crumbling pillar so much as my foundation has just disappeared.

To make matters worse, when I tried to seek out help from the government this month for some financial support, I was rebuffed (again) for not being disabled enough. My doctor lectured me about how I couldn't get a concession card for my carer, because I wasn't a paraplegic and my disability didn't count. She told me my illness wasn't real, it's just a diagnosis of exclusion, and that while she “was sad” that she can’t (read: won’t) fill out the necessary paperwork, those are the rules and I just have to deal with it. To sit there being lectured by a doctor who knows nothing about my illness, who’s spouting off information 25 years out of date, telling me a week after I was using a wheelchair to get around a museum, that because I'm not in a wheelchair I don't count, was f-ing infuriating and made me want to puke with hatred and rage. I have been gaslit and bullied and neglected and abused and disbelieved by almost everybody this year, including the medical profession. It's why I dedicated eight months of my life last year to putting together an event on medical sexism (which so few people even came to in the end). This is why I researched, wrote and delivered a speech about why this is an urgent problem and that people with chronic illnesses are dying by their own hand because they can't cope with this kind of invalidation on a daily God damn basis, not to mention all the symptoms of said illness.

I look at the fight ahead of me. Already this year I've had to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare that is getting citizenship for this country. I'm doing this because I need to ensure my future. I don't get full benefits and rights unless I am a citizen and now I'm finally eligible I'm finding that I have to go through so many goddamn hoops to get the paperwork through.

Booking any activities or events is now a question of, can we afford this without any concessions? (Spoiler alert: most of the time we can’t) and can my body take the pain? (Spoiler alert, most of the time it can’t). All my partner's wages go into rent and medical costs, and he does all the unpaid work of caring for a sick person, with NO help whatsoever from the government; not even a carer’s card, apparently, so we can afford to see a movie once in a bloody while.

We have spent tens of thousands of dollars on specialists, therapists, medicines, surgery, mobility aids, special software, petrol and tolls, dietary needs and more. All of our disposable income goes into the sucking black hole that is my chronic illness.

When looking ahead at 2019 all I see are more battles to fight. I foresee more dramas involving both my family and my partner’s, bureaucratic headaches trying to get citizenship, and an ongoing struggle to get a pittance of government support. All I see is a year of difficulty, of being let down, of pain and worsening conditions. My bursitis, which I was told would clear up in a month, is still afflicting me. I'm feeling weak and less able than I have felt my whole life.

My prevailing feeling for 2019 is simply this: I don't wanna. I just don't. I just can't.

So yeah: 2018 all but killed me. And 2019 inspires little hope in me that it will be any different.

#fibromyalgia #chronic pain #chronic illness #spoonie #myofascial pain syndrome #invalidation #gaslighting

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huphilpuffs · 6 years

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chapter: 21/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3343 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thanks goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan wakes up alone.

His head is squashed into his pillow, mouth hanging open with drool drying at the corner of his lips, hair matted atop his head. His body feels weighed down, heavy on the mattress. The burn in his chest has faded to a simmer that sparks when his ribs expand around an inhale.

The air grates at his throat. So does the groan Dan lets out when it hurts.

He manages to roll onto his back so he can orient himself. Phil’s pillow is still sitting there, bright and blue and such a contrast to the dreary grays covering the rest of Dan’s room. On the nightstand, there’s a bright yellow post-it scribbled with black that Dan’s fairly certain is a note.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He shifts towards the edge of the mattress, arms aching in their attempt to move his weight, until he’s sitting in front of Phil’s pillow. It hurts his shoulder, but he leans over and plucks the post-it from its spot. Phil’s messiest handwriting is scrawled across it in black sharpie.

I had to go to work :( I called Taylor to make sure you’re okay so she should be here somewhere. I hope you’re feeling better.

The last few words are tiny, wedged into the corner of the paper. Above that, there’s a smudge of ink that looks almost like it was meant to be a heart.

Dan tries to tell himself it’s nothing, that Phil just pressed the marker to the paper for a moment too long, but his smile still grows wider.

He stares at the note for a really long time.

---

It takes Dan a while to drag himself out of bed.

His legs are still shaky under his weight and there’s a dull ache in the back of his neck that makes it hard to hold his head steady. He finds a pair of pyjama bottoms and struggles to pull them on so that he’s not in just his pants, but his chest still stings when it’s touched.

Besides, Taylor’s seen him shirtless before.

Pressing one hand to the wall for support, he leaves his bedroom, taking slow, steady steps into the lounge. He sees Taylor sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. Her hair’s thrown back into a high ponytail and she’s hunched over a book he can hardly see, a pen perched in one hand.

She was supposed to be at uni today. Dan swallows against the guilt that comes with the realization.

He manages to stumble halfway to the sofa before she notices him. Her pen clatters against the table as she bounces to her feet, and before he can take another step, she’s dipping under his arm and draping it over her shoulder.

“You could have, I don’t know, called out or something.”

Dan huffs out a laugh. Something twinges in his chest. “I was fine to walk, you know.”

“Phil said you almost fainted.”

“Yesterday. Then I got IV fluids and slept,” he says. They’ve reached the sofa by then, and Dan drops onto the cushions, lets his weight sink into the soft blanket laid over them. “You know my blood pressure does that sometimes, Tay. And then it recovers.”

Taylor shrugs. She drops back onto the floor without a word, and starts fidgeting with her pen. Dan counts how many times she clicks it.

There’s thirteen clicks before she speaks.

“Phil made it sound like you were dying or something,” she says. “I figured it was pretty bad.”

“Oh,” says Dan. “It wasn’t. That bad, I mean.”

He turns his head against the sofa, presses his nose to the blanket Phil got him. When his eyes drift closed, it’s to the image of Phil’s face last night, eyes gleaming with tears, staring at Dan attached a machine by so many wires. It’s to the phantom feeling of Phil’s goodnight kiss dusting across his hair.

“He was worried?” he hears himself ask.

Taylor huffs. “That’s an understatement,” she says. “He didn’t want to leave. I’m pretty sure he was late to work, actually. He just kept going around the house making sure everything was okay. There’s a smoothie for you in the fridge, by the way.”

“He made me a smoothie?”

Taylor hums. There’s a grin drawing at the corners of her mouth, happiness reaching her eyes. She looks good. She looks healthy.

Healthier than she has since Dan’s known her, at least.

Dan smiles back at her. He lets his gaze drift to the textbook that lies open, and it drops.

“More bio?”

“Yeah,” says Taylor. She sets her pen down again, but her head stays dipped towards the book of notes Dan couldn’t even try to understand. “You know how I’m seeing a counselor?”

It’s a whisper, too shy for the girl who would barge into his dorm when he was half-naked to do her homework and keep him company.

Dan forces himself to nod. “Yeah.”

“Well she thinks I should switch courses,” says Taylor. “I don’t know if I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh.” Dan swallows. His chest feels tight again, locked with uncertainty. It shouldn’t be a surprise, he thinks. But Taylor never talked about it, not of her own volition.

Then again, there were a lot of things Taylor didn’t do for herself. Things she couldn’t do for herself.

“I think you should, if it would make you happy,” says Dan.

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees her shoulders sag with relief.

---

They sit in silence for most of the day. Morning was already bleeding into afternoon when Dan woke up, and even now, with the day’s brightest sun peaking out from beneath the blanket curtain, he can’t muster energy to do much more than stare vaguely at the TV.

His vision goes out of focus every time there’s a flurry of movement on screen. Dan’s not even sure which movie it is that Taylor put on.

It’s not very good. At least, the bits his brain can pick up on aren’t very good.

He looks away. His neck feels weak and his head bobs a bit when he leans forward, but his gaze settles on Taylor. She’s still sitting on the floor, still reading her biology textbook.

Dan wonders how her brain can possibly be absorbing any of that.

“Taylor?”

She looks up, twisting so she’s facing him. Her eyes look a little hazy, but not nearly as much as they used to. Like maybe the prospect of leaving the sciences behind has reinvigorated her.

Not that the prospect of dropping out had done anything of the sort for–

“Dan?”

He blinks. Taylor’s still staring at him, brows furrowed in concern.

“Geez,” she says. “I thought you were gonna faint on me.”

Dan frowns. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

It’s starting to sound petulant to his own ears, but then his mind flashes back to one of the times he laid in the hospital sobbing as his chest seemed to want to cave in. Lightheadedness, though it makes anxiety curl tight in his gut, is nothing in comparison.

Taylor’s just staring at him now, and Dan wonders when he started feeling the need to explain himself to her.

“Really,” he repeats. There’s a pause as fingers catch at the edge of the blanket and he mumbles: “Did Phil really seem that worried?”

Her eyes go a little somber at that, and her shoulders a little tense. Dan’s hand wraps tighter around the fleece, thumb drifting over tiny furs in the fabric. He reminds himself that Phil bought it for him, tried to make his new home comfortable in the tiny ways he knew how at the time, in all the ways he’s learning to help.

There’s still a smoothie in the fridge for him. One that Phil left there.

“Honestly?” says Taylor, and Dan nods. “I think he was catastrophizing.”

“Oh,” says Dan. His chest feels tight again, because Dan knows what that means. He’s been there. Sometimes, in the darkness of nights where his body aches too much for his mind to drift off to sleep, he still ends up there.

Taylor, he knows, has been there, too.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t say it,” she says. “It just kinda seemed like he was scared that if he left you, he would, you know, lose you.”

A lump wells in Dan’s throat. He swallows against it. All he manages in response is another quiet: “Oh.”

Taylor stares at him for a long moment after that, then shrugs one shoulder and turns back to her book.

“I could be wrong,” she says. “I don’t know him all that well.”

Dan shakes his head. He draws the blanket around himself, just a corner of fleece pulled pitifully over his chest because he can’t be bothered to stand and free the fabric from under his weight. Taylor’s not watching to see his eyes slip closed.

She wasn’t there to see the look on Phil’s face when Dan was hooked up to the ECG.

“I think you’re right,” he says.

Taylor drops her pen, turning to look at him again. “You do?”

“Yeah,” says Dan. “I just– There’s one thing that bugged me.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Part of him doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to place Phil anywhere near the doubts that lurk in the back of Dan’s mind. But the memory of the ECG fades into one from before, from back at the flat, Dan’s head still spinning and chest aching and Phil trying to help.

“Well?”

Something’s stinging behind Dan’s eyes, and he hates that he knows exactly why.

“He didn’t wanna go to A&E,” he says. “Like he seemed to get that it was serious, but he wanted to wait and see and I don’t know it just reminded me of–”

He clamps his mouth shut, but Taylor knows. She knows too much, he thinks, about the little things that linger, heavy, on his shoulders, about the memories he can’t entirely erase.

“Your parents?”

It’s a whisper, one they both know is true. Dan nods anyway, guilt twisting painfully in his gut.

She reaches up, rests a hand on his knee. Her eyes have gone soft, her gaze tripping over where Dan’s clutching the blanket too tightly, like a child.

“He’s not like your parents,” says Taylor. “You know that.”

Dan nods, because he does. He knows it so much it hurts, more than the lingering pressure against his ribs and the ache blooming at the back of his head, to doubt it.

Taylor squeezes his knee. “You okay?”

He’s not sure. But then again, Dan’s never sure when people ask him that.

He shrugs, and mumbles: “Yeah.”

---

Dan falls asleep to the sound of a boring film and the turning pages of Taylor’s textbook.

He wakes up to the TV gone silent, different voices drifting past his ears. His mind’s still hazy with fatigue, every thought a little blurry around the edges, mingling with the lingering vividness of some dream about college he doesn’t particularly care about.

He cares about the voices much more.

“Dan and I were talking,” says one. Taylor, he realizes a second later than he probably should. She must not be sitting on the lounge floor anymore because she sounds farther away.

He considers cracking his eyes open to check, but that takes effort.

“He said you didn’t wanna go to A&E,” she continues.

Dan’s stomach twists. If sleep wasn’t still rooted so heavily in his bones he would let them know he’s awake now just so she’d stop talking. In the same brilliance as a dream, Dan can picture Phil fidgeting, reaching up to comb his fringe out of his eyes like he always does.

He wonders if Taylor would notice that, too.

“He said that?” says the other voice, and Dan already knew it would be Phil but something shudders down his spine at the confirmation.

Taylor’s actually telling him about this.

There’s a hum, then silence. Dan wishes he could see. The dread has settled into a morbid curiosity now that he’s a little more awake, a little more aware, so he listens.

“Yeah,” says Phil. “I guess I was a little hesitant.”

“Hesitant?” says Taylor. “Or anxious?”

Dan has to count to keep his breath from catching. Four seconds to inhale and eight to exhale, once, twice, and a third time because his chest feels tight with knowledge he’s not supposed to have.

Knowledge he doesn’t have, he reminds himself. Phil still hasn’t responded.

Dan thinks that might be answer enough.

“I don’t mean to assume,” says Taylor. “I just have a bit of experience with that stuff. You can tell me if I’m wrong.”

There’s more silence. Phil still isn’t saying anything and Dan wonders if he’s staring at Taylor all wide-eyed and nervous like Dan did when she first asked him if he was ill. Or if he’s staring at the table, twisting his hand and letting his fringe cover his eyes the way Dan knows Phil does.

“Does Dan know?”

His breath does catch this time. And then he doesn’t breathe, too scared either of them noticed.

It’s not a yes, but it’s definitely not a denial either.

They must not have. There’s the quiet scratch of the chair against the floor, and a steady tapping Dan thinks must be someone’s foot. One of them, probably Phil, takes a deep breath, and Dan’s reassured enough that he does the same, easing some of the ache burning between his ribs.

“Dan has enough to worry about,” says Phil. “Besides, it’s mostly a resolved issue.”

And that’s it, a confirmation that shudders painfully through Dan’s chest.

“You should tell him,” says Taylor. “He’d want to know.”

Dan swallows. It sounds loud to his own ears, but no one else seems to hear it. His fingers twitch by the blanket still draped over his chest. He wants to pull it even tighter around himself.

He wants to wrap it around Phil and make sure he knows he can tell Dan things, too.

They don’t say another word after that.

Dan counts the seconds ticking by in his head until he thinks it’s been long enough that he can pretend to wake up.

---

Taylor stays for dinner.

Phil orders a pizza that they share as Dan sips at another smoothie. Taylor tells him about possibly changing her course and Phil offers advice far better than Dan could ever come up with. They laugh about how terrible they are at science. Dan joins in on that.

His chest aches afterwards. He’s not entirely sure it’s from the laughter.

When the pizza box is mostly empty and leftovers are being shoved into the fridge, Taylor tells them she should be heading out. She shoves her books into a backpack Dan didn’t realize she’d brought and thanks them for the food and the smile on her face looks real, looks happy.

She hugs Dan goodbye, the distant kind that doesn’t put any pressure against his ribs.

“Feel better,” she says. “And remember that he’s good for you.”

Dan watches her hug Phil afterwards, the tighter kind that has her standing on her toes instead of bending down. She says something against Phil’s shoulder, so quietly Dan can’t make out the words.

“Good luck with school,” Phil says in response.

Taylor laughs as she pulls away. “Thank you,” she says.

She looks like she means it.

Phil might be good for her, too, Dan thinks.

He wonders if either of them are good for Phil.

---

They sit on the sofa again that night.

It’s not even a conscious thing anymore when Dan presses himself against Phil’s side, letting his head drop to rest on Phil’s shoulder. Fingers thread into his hair and rub gentle patterns against his head and Dan stares at the TV screen, at whatever show’s playing now, but his vision can’t focus.

Neither can his brain.

The blanket is draped over both of them now, tucked in against Dan’s side and Phil’s thigh. Beneath it, Dan reaches over to rest his hand on Phil’s knee.

There was a time when that was the only part of Dan that Phil would touch. It seems like so long ago now.

“Can I ask you something?”

Phil looks away from the screen. His eyes look a little hazy. A soft smile curls at the corner of his mouth and makes Dan’s chest go warm.

“Of course,” he says.

Dan squeezes his knee. “How are you?” he says. His voice feels thick in his throat and breaks into a whisper. “I feel like last night was new for you and I just– Yeah. How are you?”

He watches Phil’s brows furrow, feeling something tighten in his stomach at the sight. White tears flash into his mind, a pale face and uncertain frown and Phil’s fingers gripping the hospital bed like he was even more unsteady than Dan had felt.

Dan wonders if his chest had ached, too. If something different had rooted itself between Phil’s ribs that night, took his breath the way pain stole Dan’s.

“I should be asking you that,” says Phil.

His fingers have gone still in Dan’s hair, his smile a little faded.

“I’m used to it, though,” says Dan. “You’re not, right? It was new for you?”

His hand tightens at the back of Dan’s neck. It sends a shot of pain down Dan’s spine, blooming across the back of his head, but he forces himself not to wince. He wants to hear what Phil has to say. He wants to listen, for once.

Phil deserves a friend that will listen,

“Yeah, I guess it was new,” says Phil. “But that doesn’t matter–”

“It matters to me.”

Phil’s eyes go wide and Dan wants to says of course it matters to me, you idiot, you’ve done more for me than anyone ever has, but it feels like too much. It all feels like too much, because Phil’s fingers move in his hair again so he’s cradling the back of Dan’s head.

Dan’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

But Phil just leans in closer and dusts a gentle kiss to Dan’s head.

Again.

He pulls away like it’s nothing, and tugs Dan back against his chest like he belongs there.

It feels like he does.

God, for the first time in so long it feels like he belongs somewhere.

“It was new for me, okay?” says Phil. “And maybe a little scary. Hospitals aren’t exactly my strong suit, and I don’t– It’s scary to see someone you care about attached to machines like that, even if they’re used to it. But I’m fine. I’d go there again tonight if you needed to.”

He sucks in a deep breath when he stops talking. Dan’s pressed so close to him, he can see, can feel the small stutter of his ribs.

“You would?” he asks.

Phil huffs out a laugh that makes no noise, but rumbles through his chest, echoes in Dan’s. “Of course I would,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Maybe it’s supposed to be.

Except no one else has ever been willing to do it before.

“You needed it,” says Phil. “I wanna help you when you need things.”

Dan smiles. His hand is still on Phil’s knee and Phil’s is still in his hair. He watches Phil’s chest rise and fall with a breath and forces himself to mirror it, past the pressure in his chest that burns bright and brilliant and new.

He’s used to a lot of things.

This, Dan realizes, isn’t one of them.

Maybe because, this time, something about it feels good.

He turns his head, hides his face against Phil’s shoulder so he can’t see the TV or the curtains or the silhouette of his hand on Phil’s leg through the blanket they’re sharing.

“I wanna help you when you need things, too,” he mumbles, pressing the words against Phil’s skin.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #flares #callie writes words

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voidarcana · 5 years

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Origin Story

So I realised with the upcoming Spidersona week posts, there’d be some big spoilers revealed if I didn’t post Funnel Web’s origins, so here they are! (Not completely thought out, but mostly. Enjoy!)

Parker got their powers in their early twenties. Their mother was a doctor, and a few years before had gotten a job for an experimental lab based out of Sydney. The entire family (Mum [Alice], Dad [Dominic], little siblings [Jyn and Jem, twins], and Parker), had all moved south, and Parker had finished their final year of high school in Sydney. They felt a little lost after high school, not sure what they wanted out of life. They went to uni briefly, studying robotics, but dropped out fairly quickly and ended up working in IT. They met their girlfriend, Olivia, and fell in love for the first time. Still, they felt something was missing.

As it turned out, everything was about to change. The experimental lab Parker’s mother worked for was an Australian branch of OsCorp, and was experimenting with the medicinal properties of various Australian wildlife, namely the venomous ones. A careless intern didn’t lock a cage one night, and an experimental Funnel Web managed to escape. Hitching a ride, it ended up at Parker’s parents house, just when they and Olivia where visiting for family dinner. Parker and their mother got into a fight about the direction Parker’s life had taken, and to cool off Parker went to sit on the front porch.It was there that the spider bit Parker, causing them to collapse. Thankfully they were discovered quickly, Olivia having followed to check on them, but the spider escaped before she came outside.

An ambulance was called, and Parker slipped into a coma, dangerously close to death. Their mother rode with them, and in the hospital, worked tirelessly to save their life. including calling in a few favours from OsCorp. Parker was stabilized, but stayed in the coma for several months, Olivia and their family refusing to leave their side. When they eventually woke up they were still weak, and spent another month or two recovering , thankfully this time, at home. Their mother monitored them carefully for side effects from the treatment, but noticed nothing. All Parker knew was that their chronic joint pain seemed a lot less painful than it used to be.

What neither knew what was while Parker was in a coma, the venom of the experimental funnel web, as well as the untested OsCorp treatments Parker’s mother had used, had changed them drastically. The time spent unconscious however had given their body time to settle and adapt, and waking up Parker was none the wiser about their new super powers.

Several months after being bitten, Parker and Olivia decided to head on a holiday trip to New York they had been planning before the spider bite. Their mother protested, thinking Parker still weak from the bite and hospital stay, but the two insisted.

They planned to stay with Parker’s best friend, Dash, and when they arrived they quickly settled themselves in, excited for their holiday. Unfortunately, it did not turn out as idyllic as they had planned. It was only several days later, while they were out sightseeing, the three got caught up in a fight between Spiderman and the Sinister Six. In the confusion, Dash and Parker were separated from Olivia, and almost crushed when Rhino started chucking debris at Spiderman, trying to hit him. When a car came flying straight towards where they were hiding, Parker, in their desperation, tried to shield Dash underneath them, holding their hand out in a vain attempt to stop it. Surprisingly, the two didn’t die.

Opening their eyes (having squeezed them shut in terror), they saw the car bent around their outstretched hand, and themselves and Dash safely wedged between the two halves. In astonishment, Parker realised that Spiderman had seen the whole thing, and was staring at them in amazement. They stared back, before something made them look behind Spiderman, and realize that Rhino was still throwing things. About to shout a warning Spiderman dodged the projectile, and Parker realised that Spiderman had also felt the same thing that had warned them about the attack.

Spiderman managed to trick Rhino, forcing him to run into a wall and knock himself out, and pulled Dash and Parker out of the wreck of the car. The two had been too stunned by everything to move. Spiderman paused, looking Parker over, then simply said “I’ll find you later. Get to safety ok?” He’d then swung off to deal with the rest of the Sinister Six, who were causing havoc still.

Parker, recovering from the shock, remembered Olivia, and ran to where they’d been separated. She was nowhere to be found. It was only later, after everything, that Parker found out what had happened. Somehow, during all the chaos, Olivia had been killed.

Parker’s world felt like it was broken. Spiderman found them sitting on a roof, not contemplating jumping, just staring at the stars and trying to make sense of it all. He said he’d recognized himself in Parker, knew their powers, and their pain. He apologized for not being able to save Olivia, but Parker knew it wasn’t his fault. That sometimes you, by yourself, are not enough. They knew this because they also felt guilty for Olivia’s death, for letting themselves get separated during the fight. Spiderman, sensing that guilt, offered Parker a chance to learn to do what he did, to fight with him, and try to make a difference.

Parker, who had been lost at home, and was now only more lost, saw this as a chance to find their way. They accepted. Almost immediately Dash burst onto the roof from where she’d been listening behind the door (not on purpose, she’d come to find Parker and, overhearing her talking to someone else, hung back, curious), and demanded that she was gonna be in on this too, because if Parker was going to be a superhero, they needed backup. Parker, laughing through their tears, nodded, and so, Funnel Web was born.

#spidersona #funnel web #petra parks #parker #origin story #my characters #long post #decided on a readmore for this one because it's very long #I gotta make a masterpost for all this sometime

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insanely-creative-things · 5 years

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Big Hero 7: The Series

www.fanfiction.net

Big Hero 7

(Long Post)

*Another peaceful day is happening in San Fransokyo. The gang so far had been successfully leading their double lives: students by day, superheroes at night. But now it was a school day, and the younger members of the group, Hiro Hamada and Cora Mizichio, were currently heading to Hiro's lab.*

Cora: So, what are we up to this time Hiro Hamada?

Hiro: *Smiling slyly* Oh, nothing much...

Cora: *Raises eyebrow*

Hiro: I just made a little something for you that I know you'll love!

Cora: What is it?

Hiro: Close your eyes first.

Cora: Really?

Hiro: The surprise will be great I promise, so please?

*After he gave her his best puppy eyes. Cora smiled and blushed as she shut her eyes. Hiro quickly grabbed a headset to place on Cora's head as lightly as he can.*

Cora: *Eyes still closed* Can I open them now?

*Hiro plugs in and starts up the headset*

Hiro: Now you can!

*Cora's eyes opened to find herself in the sea, complete with coral reefs and exotic fish swimming by her.*

Cora: Hiro...you did this?

*Hiro sat on his desk as he watched both the screen and Cora awe in wonder in her headset enthusiastically*

Hiro: Only for my favorite girlfriend.

*Cora giggles before she removes her headset and gives a quick kiss on his lips*

Cora: You're only girlfriend, but thank you.

*Hiro blushes before giggling like an idiot as Cora puts her headset back on. She emerged herself to the oceanic world Hiro made for her, connected to the marine life and wonders it has to hold. Cora giggled as she felt small fish twirl around her as another fish nibbled on her finger*

Grandville: Mr. Hamada?

*Hiro's love struck daze quickly came off as Grandville entered the room. He looked at Cora, who did not hear the Dean.*

Grandville: Miss Mizichio?

*Cora in the virtual ocean noticed something swim up to her, so she looked up and saw a shark in front of her. But what startled her the most was that the shark was speaking to her.*

Shark*Grandville's voice*: Miss Mizichio!

*Cora jumped back before realizing who's voice it was. She removes the headset as she looks at the Dean, giving an embarrassed laugh as she puts away the headset.*

Grandville: Follow please!

Hiro: Uh Professor Grandville! Cora and I were just taking a little break, cause you know, studies shows all work and no-

Grandville: Do not play me.

Hiro: Fair enough, uh so what's up?

Grandville: I would imagine being two fourteen year olds surrounded by college students presents certain...social and emotional challenges.

Hiro: Looks at Cora before looking back at the Dean* No... N-not really. but hey, I'm sure whatever you have in mind is gonna show me how wrong I am.

Cora: Ma'am, if I may. We already have friends who are college students and Hiro and I are together.

Grandville: And that's impressive for a student who has been home-schooled for a majority of her life.

*Cora's voice fell before she looked down at her feet, but Hiro was quick to hold her hand and give her a reassuring smile. Grandville smiled at the couple, knowing that this is what she had in mind for someone else. The three arrived at bio-hazard lab, reserved for the studies of cells and viruses, the lights were off at the end of the room was a person with long hair in a pony tail and wearing a lab coat.*

Grandville: Mr. Hamada, Miss Mizichio, meet Karmi.

*The person named Karmi turned around to face the three, she was wearing goggles and medical mask as she held green glowing needles in her hands. Hiro has concerns over this person while Cora was in awe over her. Karmi put away her needles in her lab coat and removed her goggles and mask, revealing a girl who is their age if not maybe a bit older as the light suddenly turned on.*

Karmi: Hiro, Cora! When Professor G asked me to connect with you two, I thought this is gonna be super great! And it is! So great! The greatest!

*Hiro took a step back away from Karmi, feeling a little uneasy over her 'enthusiasm'. Cora on the other hand, gave her best smile and shook Karmi's hand*

Hiro: Uh- hello.

Cora: It's very nice to meet you too Karmi!

Grandville: Karmi was the youngest female student ever admitted into San Fransokyo Tech.

Karmi: Until you two!

*At this Cora noticed that Karmi's smile and the way she said it was a little too...forced. But she pushed it aside, giving it the benefit of a doubt.*

Grandville: So she knows what you two are going through.

Hiro: *Looking at Cora again before looking back at the Dean and Karmi* Oh! w-we're going through something? That's news to us.

Cora: It's very nice that you thought of us ma'am.

*But they knew that they were doing alright. After all they had great friends and each other to get through anything, social or otherwise.*

Grandville: Now you both know, and you're welcome. Here's what we're going to do.

Hiro: *Gesturing to himself, Cora and the Dean* We?

*Grandville slightly pushes Hiro and Cora towards Karmi.*

Grandville: You two.

Karmi: *Sounding forced* So super!

Grandville: I want you two to 'hang' with Karmi. I think you two can learn from her socialization experience.

Hiro: Uhh, sure we can probably do Thursday morning-

Grandville: Every day! All week, keep a journal, I want a full report on Friday.

Karmi: Bye Professor G! So glad to have new friends!

*After the Dean left the three teens, there were only three emotions running through each of them: Hiro is super confused, Cora had the 'alright' look, but Karmi's chipper attitude quickly washed away once the Dean left.

Karmi: Here's the deal. Stay out of my face, stay out of my space.

Cora: Uh, okaaay...?

Hiro: What happened to 'hanging'?

Karmi: Of course you'd ask that, YOU TWO think you're both some special white blood cells, but you're both nothing but common red blood cells!

Hiro: What? W-w-what uh, What?

*Cora, who was thinking over Karmi's words, finally realized what is happening.*

Cora: Oh! I understand now. You're jealous.

*Karmi stopped in her tracks when she heard Cora innocently point out the reason for her actions. She gave a deadly glare at Cora before walking back to her studies. As of while, Fred had wandered into Hiro's lab and tried on Cora's headset, which now led to Fred running for his life over the virtual shark Cora encountered before as he ran passed the lab the teens were in as he yelled out.*

Fred: Shark attack!

Cora turns her glance slightly to the door as Fred ran by yelling about a shark attack and noticed he was wearing her headset and sees that the cord was still attached to the headset and no sooner had he ran passed the door, the cord pulls him back hard that he falls back hard on his back in front of the door. After Cora see all this, she pinches the bridge of her nose as she signs*

Cora: Oh Fred...

*After Karmi returned to her seat, Hiro and Cora looked around Karmi's lab, interested in what she's studying. As of now, Karmi was observing a virus in her microscope.*

Karmi: Observing mutated virus, Day 57.

*Hiro lightly played with the mechanical arm while Cora looked over the other viruses on the shelf, specifically over the more dangerous ones, and held her phone up to see it closely.*

Hiro: Careful Cora.

Cora: *Smiles at him* Always Hiro.

*Karmi rolled her eyes at the couple before she resumed her research at the cell*

Karmi: Looking good, 81-004.

Hiro: You ah, you talk to the virus?

Karmi: That was a private conversation, but yes. 81-004 is a dear friend. As are R69-5, L4-382, and 95-414. Who I'm still getting to know

*At the corner Cora spotted one petri dish*

Cora: Hey, is this lung fluke?

*Karmi, glad to show off her knowledge, made a smirk as she turned her chair around.*

Karmi: Yes it is, 14-013 is a lung fluke that's-

Cora: Commonly found in crab fish and causes chronic coughing and chest pain and etc right?

*Karmi's smug face was wiped clean off.*

Karmi: How do YOU know that? Are you studying viruses too?

Cora: No, Marine Biology, lung fluke is common knowledge.

Hiro: Okay... sure...

Karmi: *Turns back to Hiro* Oh you thinking talking to viruses is weird. YOU and your GIRLFRIEND, the kids who talk to a mechanical snowman, as least my dangerous microscopic organisms are actually alive.

*At this point, Cora gave a glare before she calmed down and cleared her throat.*

Cora: Yeah, deadly viruses that live to destroy and leave only rotten corpses are definitely superior from a robotic nurse programmed to help people from said diseases.

*Karmi looked at Cora, to which both are glaring venom at each other. Hiro, seeing the tension between the two girls, clears his throat.*

Hiro: Alright, no judgement. Can we just move on, I need to put something in the journal for Grandville.

Karmi: Not my problem, just make me look good because-

*Unbeknownst to them, Grandville was walking past them with an open door, which Karmi took full advantage of and gave off her sickly sweet tone of voice.*

Karmi: I want this to be a wonderful experience for you two!

*With Karmi's smile that Grandville bought, Hiro could only deadpan*

Hiro: Oh you are good.

Grandville: Karmi, take Mr. Hamada and Miss Mizichio to lunch at the dinning hall, my treat.

Karmi: *Sounding forced again* So super!

Grandville: Get aquanted you three, have fun. Mandatory fun.

Karmi: Super great idea! On it!

*Grandville soon left the room*

Karmi: I'm sorry 81-004, I know we were gonna do a DNA extraction over lunch but, you're just have to incubate a little longer.

*Karmi placed her petri dish in the machine to heat the virus*

Karmi: Let's go genius kids.

*After Karmi made way to the cafeteria to lead the couple, they gave their thoughts on the overall experience.*

Hiro: And Grandville thinks we need socialization help?

Cora: *Crosses her arms* If anyone needs 'socialization help', it her. And maybe a good butt-kicking to go along with it.

Hiro: *Looking nervously and pleadingly at Cora* Cora...

Cora; Relax Hiro, I'm not gonna do anything to her, I know better than that. But I swear if she keeps up this attitude, I can't promise that 'someone' might not be getting some much needed B-slapping.

*Soon after she said that, Cora begins to walk out of the lab after Karmi with Hiro following right behind her as he mutters while pinching the bridge of his nose trying to calm his already building stress and nerves.*

Hiro: ...This is gonna be a LONG week...

*Once the three made their way to the dinning hall, they chose a large table so all three can sit in one place. They noticed that Karmi brought her books and started working. Cora sighed before she pulled out her Bento boxes, one for Hiro and one for herself*

Cora: As promised Hiro, I made you bento.

Hiro: Sweet! Thanks babe.

*Cora blushed and smiled softly at his words. Karmi rolled her eyes and scoffed*

Karmi: Can you two not flirt right now?

*Cora pouted at her remark, but just before she could retort back, she noticed that Karmi doesn't have any food with her. Cora, while still not very happy with Karmi and her attitude towards her and Hiro, but with concern on her brow non-the-less, brought over pieces of her lunch, containing Tempura(Fried Shrimp), Kobe beef, and a sushi roll.*

Cora: Hey Karmi, are you hungry? You can have some of my food until you get something to eat.

*Karmi turned her head to face Cora with a cocked eyebrow.*

Karmi: *Deadpan* Really?

Hiro: Hey, don't knock it til you try it. Cora is a really good cook, with years of practice and experience to back it up.

Cora: *Smiles gratefully at Hiro* Aww, thank you Hiro.

Hiro: (Blushes and smile back) Heh, no problem babe.

Karmi: *Annoyed* If you two can stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and let me work in peace, that'd be great.

*Hiro and Cora blinked at Karmi's response, but soon their attention was diverted when they heard a crash and yelp that sounds a lot like Fred. Both stood up and left the table to check on their clumsy friend, and after they were out of sight, Karmi resumed her work. However her stomach growled and stood up to get in line, but spotted the food Cora offered her. She hestiantly grabbed the sushi roll and took a bite, she paused for a moment as her eyes widened before she sat back down and continued eating the food Cora gave her, slightly nodding in her approval.*

*Later on at night Hiro, Cora and Baymax were on the rooftop of a random building where the young teens spilled out to Baymax what happened when they met Karmi.*

Hiro: What is Karmi's problem?!

Cora: I don't know what is going on in her head to think she can act like a massive j*** towards us! We never did anything to her, I mean we only just met her today and she treats us like we're dirt underneath her shoes or something!

Baymax: Without a thorough scanning, I am unable to determine if she suffers from any health anomalies.

Gogo: Are you two really not getting this?

*Gogo zoomed down to meet up with the three.*

Gogo: Karmi doesn't have friends, the only thing she had going for her? Being the youngest genius at the school. Now for the two of you, that's your thing, you two took her thing.

Hiro: We don't want it to be our thing! We have our own thing!

Cora: Both separately and together I might add. But seriously, if she's really that butt-hurt over something like that, I hate to see her at worst tantrum.

Baymax: My scanner is picking up a disturbance nine blocks to the west.

Hiro: And there's our thing now! Co'mon Cora hop on!

*Hiro and Cora rushed to climb up on Baymax to stop whoever was disrupting the peace in the streets of San Fransokyo. But what they were up against was certainly not what they expect the criminals to be.*

*At the streets of San Franksokyo were two dancers performing, dressed in 80's fashion under the song of a typical 80's song. One was young woman and the other her mother. A blue orb floated above them with the crowds cheering on.*

Stage Mother: OK Juniper, practice is over, I want you to show me you have IT!

Juniper: Oh you know I have IT! Cause I'm about to bring IT!

*With impressive choreography they exposed their true intentions for dancing. The blue orb was not for decoration, and instead was an electric orb that safely flowed to them as they charged the ATMs and turned off the lights, and yet the crowd still cheered even when the money flowed from the ATMs for them to steal. But the music stopped as the gang arrived at the scene, and what they are seeing is widely confusing...*

Hiro: Umm...I'm not sure what's going on here, but you're gonna give the money back.

Juniper: I'M A STAR! You don't interrupt a star when she's leaving in awe on the stage!

Hiro: And uh, you are?

Stage Mother: I'm Barb!

Juniper: I'm Juniper.

High Voltage: And together we are High Voltage!

*A few seconds of silence pass before Cora, making a phone hand gesture, spoke*

Cora: Hey High Voltage, the 80's called, they said they want their hairspray back, and to stopping ripping off Jem!

Hiro: *Confused Eyebrow* What are-?

Cora: Jem's a cartoon from the 80's, Dad still has Jem Cassette tapes from when I was a toddler.

Baymax: Electricity may cause severe burns.

Gogo: I got this!

*Gogo zoomed to stop the dancing criminals, but their smooth moves-like jagger had their electric volts stopped Gogo in her tracks as she was sent flying through the air, leaving just the two teens and Baymax to stop them*

Barb: Juniper, I need more flair in those back flips and more sparkle in that smile!

Juniper: On it!

*Juniper did her back flips with flair and pizzazz as her mother instructed and clasped her hands to send a large bolt to mess up Baymax's armor. Hiro and Cora got off before their super suites were fried*

Baymax: Oh no.

*Baymax blasted off in the other direction while Hiro chased after him. But Cora stayed as Gogo returned.*

Gogo: Ok we need to power these two freaks down!

Cora: On it!

*Gogo threw her disk at the duo*

Barb: Juniper, electric fence!

Juniper: Oh yeah! lets go!

*The criminals created a net to catch the disk*

Barb: 2,5,7,8!

*With the disk thrown back it landed a blow on her stomach, making her land on her back as Hiro continued chasing Baymax.*

*The dastardly duo continued taking money as the crowd cheered for them*

Crowd: Juniper! Juniper!

Barb: And Barb!

Stranger with poor taste in women: I love you Juniper!

Hiro: They're robbing an ATM!

*A zap of electricity put him down.*

Barb: No, we're telling a story through dance!

"Think again!"

*Barb looked around for the voice before a fist met her gut, which then the figure revealed to be Cora. While the duo were distracted with Gogo' disk she turned on her camouflage to sneak around and take them from behind*

*But it was cut short as she felt a zap run through her, making her fall down on the ground. Said zap came from Juniper, who smirked at the girl. The two hopped on their car and drove off with the stolen money as Juniper called out to their adoring fans.*

Juniper: We love you all!

*The fallen four could only stare in confusion and disgust as the duo made a get away, to which Hiro rushed to Cora's aid and helped her stand up.

Hiro: You ok?

Cora: Could have been better.

*And Baymax tumbles through the air past them*

Baymax: Oh no.

*After that disastrous night, the gang grouped up at the dining hall as Hiro recounted on what happened.*

Hiro: They got applause. The bad guys! People clapped for the bad guys!

Cora: *Grumble* I wonder how they'll cheer after they realize that they stole their money from their bank accounts...

Gogo: *Snark* Telling a story through dance.

Hiro: Story of kicking our butts.

Wasabi: *Rubbing temples* Ohh and there's gonna be more butt kicking...Why did I choose a Yoga elective over Martial Arts?

Honey Lemon: One: you centered yourself, two: you strengthen your core, and three: you love the big ball!

Wasabi: *Chuckles* Yeah, big ball.

Fred: Colorful villains, underestimated because of their ridiculous personas? Like so many things, it was foretold in comic books!

Gogo: *Sarcasm* Yeah! We should probably run out and study a bunch of comic books to figure out how to beat them! *scoff*

Fred: Yes! But in this case I choose one in particular. Captain Fancy Issue 188!

Gogo: *To self* Don't ask, don't ask, don't...ugh! And what happened in Captain Fancy?

Fred: Captain Fancy lost battle after battle to a mother-daughter acrobat team.

Honey Lemon: Wow that is similar!

*Fred pointed to Honey Lemon to show that he has a point when it comes to super heroes.*

Hiro: Did they have a floating shock generator too?

Fred: Close! They had a trained bear named Grizzlvich.

Gogo: Shouldn't have asked.

*Wasabi noticed that Cora drawing out something on a piece of paper*

Wasabi: Cora, you drawing something?

Fred: Are you drawing Captain Fancy?

Cora: No, just drawing out new features for my suite. Hopefully with these new additions we could hypothetically take down a bear.

Hiro: Speaking of fighting a bear...

*Cora looked up to see what Hiro was looking at, and her face lowered to a frown. Across them was Karmi, seating on a table alone, surrounded by her books as she is writing something on her book*

Hiro: *Whew*

Cora: Wish us luck guys.

*The teens stood up and walked over to Karmi, knowing they must fill in the criteria for Professor Grandville's journals.*

Hiro: Hi Karmi, uh..hanging out at the cafeteria too hehe.

Cora: You doing alright Karmi? Did you eat something yet?

*Karmi looked up at Hiro and Cora, giving a disgusted ugh before resuming her work*

Cora: Okaaay...you don't want to talk, that's cool. Just that Grandville may be right about us hanging...

*Cora stopped speaking as she looked down at her book and her eyes widened. Hiro, confused on what caused her to loose her voice and eyes to widen, looked at Karmi's book. Inside the virus textbook were drawings; Specifically drawings of Hiro and Cora...in their super hero suites...styled in shoujo manga drawings complete with flowers and sparkles.*

Hiro: Wait is that?-

*Karmi slammed her book shut.*

Karmi: Eyes on your own work creeper!

*Karmi stood up as she packed her belongings and left. When Hiro turned to regard Cora, he saw his girlfriend's jaw dropped and eyes still widened. The rest of the gang walked over to the two young teens and saw that Cora was frozen with a shocked look on her face*

Honey Lemon: Cora... Are you ok?

*Hiro had to turn Cora around to face the others and close her mouth for her before Cora regained her train of thought*

Cora:...You guys will not believe this.

*Night came again as Baymax with Hiro and Cora on his back while carrying Fred were discussing what they discovered with Karmi*

Hiro: You know, I don't get it! Why would she draw Super Hero me and Super Hero Cora!

Fred: Because Big Hero 7 Hiro and Big Hero 7 Cora are Hero Hiro and Hero Cora, and regular Hiro and regular Cora are just some boring run of the mill boy and girl genius couple.

Baymax: But there is only one Hiro and one Cora.

Fred: In this dimensional timeline!

*The beeping of the Comlinks came through as Gogo gave her report*

Gogo: It's High Voltage, again!

Hiro: Let's go!

*They directed Baymax to the location of High Voltage's latest scheme. Cora checked over her upgraded armor as she muttered to herself*

Cora: Ok, let's see how they deal with us when fire meets fire.

*The crowd cheered for Juniper as Barb threw out the money from the bank car to stuff in their own car.*

Juniper: My dreams are coming true! You hear that Mama they love me! They really love me!

Barb: Us Juniper, they love us!

Gogo: Hey!

*High Voltage turned their attention to Gogo*

Gogo: You two got lucky last time.

*Gogo skated down the rails as she began to attack*

Barb: Juniper! Squat dance, with feeling!

*Juniper backflipped to her mother as she shot out her electric shocks and disabled Gogo's skates*

Wasabi: Probably not the right time right now, but your dance moves are perfection!

Barb: She does have my thighs.

*One with footstep she shot out an electrical shock to stun Wasabi, but he was quick to 'dance' his way out off the volts. In the middle of the crowd, Karmi went to see what was going and saw what was happening.*

Honey Lemon: Rubber insilates electricity!

*She threw her rubber chem ball to stop the dancing criminal queens, but they dodged her ball as Juniper aimed the electrical orb to Honey Lemon, which sent her flying through the air only to be caught by Fred with Baymax and the teens. They finally met up as the crowd cheered for the rest of Big Hero 7 arrived, which Karmi then brought out her phone and took a picture of Hiro and Cora in their super suits blushing and smiling like an idiot.*

*High Voltage shot out a zap of electricity to the team.*

Hiro: Watch out!

*The team scattered as Hiro and Cora still on Baymax's back did their best to fly away from the bolt. But it zapped Baymax's suite anyway as Hiro and Cora held onto each other as they fell down only to be caught by Fred on the last second.*

Hiro and Cora: Baymax!

*In the distance Baymax was spinning as his suite short-circuited*

Baymax: Powerpowerpowerpowerpower surge powerpower surge!

*The electric shock had malfunctioned his suit to the point of unintentionally releasing his rocket fist towards them. The team was quick to dodge the fist, but the fist hit a street light which broke in half and was falling towards the crowd beside it. Karmi was too late to as the crowd skedaddled their way out. Hiro and Cora ran out to save the young girl who they did not recognize at the time to be Karmi. They grabbed Karmi safely as they all landed on the ground.*

Cora: That was close. Are you okay?

Hiro: Are you alright-*gasp*

*It is at this time that Hiro and Cora realized that the girl they rescued was Karmi*

Karmi: *Giggling* I am now.

*Karmi took a photo of the two of them which caused them to flinch. But then they spotted another volt of electricity head towards them, which Cora stood up and reached out her hand. High Voltage smirked, expecting the girl to be stunned, but gapsed as Cora's hand simply cackled unharmed, which she then threw the bolt back at the dastardly duo. High Voltage dodged the attack safely, to which Karmi saw that as stars were glimmering in her eyes*

Karmi: *In awe and this time not forced but actually genuine* So cool...!

*Cora rushed towards the duo as she let out a war cry, dodging their attacks as quickly grabbed the volts and threw them back towards the mother-daughter duo. But the villainous dancers flipped over to the girl and both delivered a double kick to the girl's stomach and back.*

Hiro: No!

*Karmi watched as High Voltage took this opportunity to run with the money as Hiro ran to Cora who was lying on the floor coughing. Hiro laid Cora on his lap as he looked over her*

Hiro: Cora are you ok?

Cora: *Smiles* Yeah...the upgrade worked better than I thought..still got beat though... But I'm always okay when I'm with you.

*The two smiled gently at each other, temporarily forgetting about their defeat, and Karmi could not help but squeal over the scene playing out before her.*

Karmi: This is so going online tonight!

*The school day came as the nerd gang moped over their defeat.*

Gogo: Seven to two, and they still kicked our butts.

Honey Lemon: I call it seven to three, I'm counting that energy orb thing.

Fred: You mean that thing that makes it like that circus bear in Captain Fancy Issue 188? Am I right? I'm surprised we're the only ones who see that connection.

*Just then Hiro and Cora arrived at the Gang's table*

Hiro: As if losing wasn't bad enough, Karmi got a good look at our faces!

Wasabi: Tell her you two have clones?

Cora: Wasabi, she's in Bio tech! she'd see right through that and know that it's really us!

Hiro: *Sigh* Well, might as well get it over with.

*Hiro and Cora walked over to Karmi to talk over last night. Cora spotted Karmi blushing as she lightly rubbed the picture of Hiro in his Hero suit and sigh as she swiped it to a picture of them in the aftermath of the battle*

Hiro: Hi Karmi...

Karmi: Looks like I caught you two!

Hiro: Hey...Karmi umm..any chance we can convince you to keep this quiet?

Karmi: Ew, you think I want people to know you have a crush on me?

Hiro: Ew What?!

Cora:*Glaring* Excuse you?! Hiro and I are dating!

Karmi: Tch, yeah. But who would want to date someone like you miss 'Oh-I've-been-home-schooled-all-my-life-and-never-had-any-friends-much-less-a-boyfriend-before-I-came-to-SFIT-but-now-I-have-the-most-perfect-boyfriend-in-the-world'! Your relationship makes me sick just looking at you two. Besides, it's SOOO obvious! Your so called 'boyfriend' is always saying stuff like *Poorly imitating Hiro* 'Hey Karmi. We should work on our project." N5-4 totally called it. But these two...

*Karmi looks at the photo with Hero Hiro and Hero Cora in each others arms*

Karmi: I admit I'm a little jealous that this guy is already with someone else, but who could blame him? She's super cool and pretty! The way they look at each other, protect each other and are willing risk their lives for each other is so romantic! I would kill just to have someone like him give this much devotion to me as he does for her! They are definitely the new Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask!

*Karmi got back to coddling the picture of the superhero couple while the actual couple slowly backed away from her and walked towards the lab. Both of them arrived with very confused and concerned expressions on their faces, trying to process what has happened.*

Honey Lemon: Oh no she knows?

Hiro: Well...

Honey Lemon: Oh! A memory wipe!

Cora: Actually...

*Honey Lemon quickly gathered her chemicals to conduct a memory wipe on Karmi.*

Honey Lemon: I'll need this and this and this! Ooh and this!

*Honey Lemon brought out a blender to mix the chemicals together as she muttered to herself.*

Honey Lemon: Ooh! One Amnesia Geno coming up!

Cora: Karmi didn't know that 'They' were 'Us'!

Wasabi: Wait, wait? *Turns off the blender causing the lid to pop off and the contents inside to foam and overflow from said-blender* How could she not notice you two were yourselves? It's so obvious.

Hiro: It gets worse! She's in love with him! Me! I don't know it's complicated...

Cora: Not to mention that while she confessed that she's in love with my boyfriend's Hero ego, she started talking about Hero us as if we are the next Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask, her exact words by the way, like a crazy fangirl!

Fred: Ahhh the power of the Secret Identity. Intrepid investigator Reater Rampart never realized cab driver Lash Luper was secretly Captain Fancy!

*Fred fell off the chair he was lounging on when he was explaining over this*

Gogo: This is a comic book thing again right?

Fred: Indeed! Quickly to the Fred room!

*One Fred montaging Batman transition later, Fred and Gogo are in his room about to look over the comic book collection he has acquired over the years.*

Fred: We'll start you with the basics, Battle Max and Avenger duct, maybe throw in a little Mia Mia.

Gogo: Skip the training wheels, I'm going straight to Captain Fancy 188.

Fred: Wooaaah!

*Fred shut the drawer close*

Fred: No!

Gogo: Fred, it's the only way we'll figure out how to beat High Voltage. I won't crease it's stupid pages or anything.

Fred: Stupid?! You need to dial it down before you crease our friendship! We don't rummage through classic comics like we're barbarians! These are works of art, they must be treated as such.

*Fred was quick to pull out a container for Gogo*

Fred: And gum?

*Gogo put away her chewing gum.*

Fred: Thank you. And the back up!

*Gogo grumbled before giving up the extra gum.*

Fred: Hands up!

*Fred put on both gloves on Gogo and himself.*

Fred: Also I should probably tell you I don't have Captain Fancy Issue 188. Okay!

Gogo: What?

Fred: I only know what's within its pages based on whispered rumors.

Gogo: Do not start at the beginning.

Fred: I'll start at the beginning!

*Gogo groaned as the lights turned off as Fred turned on a flash light to tell the story like a urban legend.*

Fred: June 1963. Disgruntled artist, AJ Doehertz sets a wildly inappropriate drawing of Captain Fancy into Issue 188. It wasn't until after it was printed that people caught the offending...image the entire run was pulped, save for one copy smuggled to freedom. Few have ever seen it. To my eternal frustration, I am not one of the lucky few.

Gogo: So where is it now?

Fred: In the clutches of my Arch-Nemesis. Be forewarned, he's a dark and dangerous foe!

*The two arrived at a fairly normal comic book store where a young boy with a large mole under his left eye was reading a comic book passing the time for the lack of customers. Fred gestured Gogo to talk to the kid.*

Gogo: Hey kid is your Dad here? We need to talk to the owner.

Creepy kid: You're talking to the owner dream girl.

Fred: Jilien, isn't he?

*The kid lowered down on his chair and got on the floor*

Mole: Richardson Mole, San Fransokyo's most eligible eleven year old. And you are?

*When He attempted to kiss her hand, Gogo was quick to remove it.*

Gogo: Much older than you!

Mole: Nice...

Gogo: Fred, talk to him.

Fred: Hey, this is a business call Richardson! Lets keep this professional!

Mole: Very well.

Gogo: We need to see Captain Fancy 188.

Mole: Ah the very issue I sniped from you at that online Auction.

Fred: You cut the power to my house!

Mole: Those charges were never proven.

Gogo: Can we just see the dumb comic book?

Mole: Oh I like you angry dream girl, follow me to the Mole hole!

*Mole walked over to a telephone booth where he pulled the phone and fell down.*

Mole: I'm waiting!

*The duo walked over to the booth where they both squeezed in and than fell down to see an arcade of sorts featuring Fred, more specifically games where bodily harm is done to Fred.*

Fred: I told you he hates me.

Mole: Beat my high score on any of these and I will let you see Captain Fancy 188.

*Gogo walked to the Fred version of Whack-A-Mole, but the moles were Fred's heads.*

Gogo: Whack a Fred, let's do this.

Mole: Ooh, poor choice. This is my favorite game and my high score is-

*Gogo began to whack the Freds into oblivion, releasing all the pent up frustration and fury as if it were the real Fred, which Real Fred is developing worries that maybe he should be more careful with Gogo from now on.*

Mole: I'm impressed.

Fred: I'm concerned.

*Mole activated a game booth to reveal the true location of Issue 188 of Captain Fancy. But even Mole knew better than to carelessly throw away caution.*

Mole: Gum.

*Gogo gave her gum to the pincers*

Mole: Strawberry, nice.

*With the conformation of the hand pass, the door revealed the long awaited Issue 188 of Captain Fancy.*

Fred: *Gasp* It's beautiful!

Gogo: Oh just give it!

*Fred was quick to grab her hand to stop her*

Fred: Ba ba ba ba ba ba! Gloves.

*As Fred and Gogo were at Mole's Hole to read up on Issue 188, Hiro and Cora were at the lab with Karmi who currently studying N5-4 wearing a hazmat suit.*

Karmi: N5-4 you put on some weight! There's some junk in your nucleus. Pathegemic aniba appears thermo stable.

Hiro: Hey Karmi-Ah! I mean Hi! Hello, how's it uh going?

*Baymax walked over to the booth where all three teens are. Cora looked around.*

Cora: Should we be wearing some bio hazard suites?

Karmi: Are your eyes bleeding?

Baymax: They are currently not.

Karmi: Then you two are fine, probably.

Hiro: So...you like dangerous organisms

Karmi: Duh, by studying them we can figure out therapeutic uses for them. It's called science.

Hiro: That's uh, actually interesting. Maybe when your done we can talk about our journal? Uh you know, just the one that's due Friday!

Karmi: Nobody cares. Hand me N5-4.

Hiro: Oh uh sure.

*Hiro placed his phone down next to the dish Karmi was reffering too. However at that moment Hiro's phone buzzed from a call from Wasabi. The vibration of the phone caused the Virus to disintegrate into nothingness.*

Karmi:*Gasp* No! You killed N5-4!

Baymax: This is a fortunate result. N5-4 would have soon reached a contagious factor of ten.

Karmi: N5-4 was the first pathogen I ever formed.

Baymax: I will download proper disinfection methods to ensure no particles of N5-4 survives.

Karmi: He was more than a flesh eating virus! He was a friend.

Baymax: If you have any more N5-4 in storage, we should dispose-

Karmi: Shut him up!

*Cora glared at Karmi*

Cora: Baymax is a nurse Karmi! He's suppose to put the needs of human health first before everything else, and that includes knowing how to get rid of deadly viruses! And if N5-4 had reached that level you could had gotten Hiro and I killed! Or are you too self-absorbed in your precious deadly viruses to realize or even care about that!

Baymax: You two appear tense. I have some relaxation suggestions.

*The phone buzzed once again while Baymax listed the following*

Karmi: Well, answer it!

*Hiro grabbed the phone quickly and answered.*

Wasabi: High Voltage, San Fransokyo Trust. Now!

Hiro; Okay yeah, we'll be there as soon as we can.

*Hiro turned to Cora and Karmi glaring daggers at each other as Baymax continued listing relaxation methods.*

Hiro: So, something came up and umm, we need to umm, We just gotta go.

Karmi: You think I want you to stay!?

Cora: Don't you talk to Hiro like that!

*Hiro quickly grabbed Cora and Baymax so that any chances of a war between his girlfriend and his...'friend' do not escalate.*

*At the depths of Mole's hole, Fred studied carefully over the contents of Captain Fancy Issue 188. It was then he finally came across the infamous page.*

Mole: Good luck unseeing that!

Gogo: Oh co'mon grow up. Read faster.

Fred: A wise man once said if you want a solution, you can't rush Fred.

*Gogo yanked on Fred's ear in response.*

Fred: OW Ow Ow Ow Ow! I'll read faster!

*Fred continued to observe the content as Gogo's phone just beeped.*

Gogo: Yeah?

Wasabi: High Voltage! San Fransokyo Trust! Now!

*Gogo hung up her phone as Fred struck gold*

Fred: Yes! I get it! I totally get it!

Gogo: So you actually found an answer in that thing?

Fred: Couldn't be more clear.

Gogo: Great, time to roll!

*Gogo dragged Fred to the exit to suit up and beat High Voltage once and for all.*

Mole: Come again! Not you Fred!

*At the scene of the crime, High Voltage was cracking open the safe to grab the loot.*

Barb: Big finish Juniper!

Juniper: Oh yeah!

*Juniper flipped to the door and back to see it explode and expose the money inside.*

Barb: Now freestyle into that vault and get that cash!

Juniper: On it!

*But before she could enter, a wall of Rubber blocked her way.*

Wasabi: You don't need to steal, you have real talent!

Honey Lemon: He actually makes a really good point. You guys should audition for Top Feet!

Barb: Stars don't audition!

*A flash of electricity was shot their way and quickly they dodged.*

*As of while Hiro and Cora were on Baymax.*

Hiro: I don't get it. I don't, what can we even learn from Karmi? She talks to those things! Ugh, we're way better adjusting than she is!

Baymax: True, you both have each other and a strong social network for support. Karmi does not.

Cora: So why did Grandville-

*The vibration rumbled strongly.*

Hiro: Let's finish this later.

Baymax: I will set a reminder.

*The three flew down to the scene of the crime to join the rest of their team at the bank.*

*At the bank, Juniper struck her electric whip to cut a pillar in half to crush Wasabi, but it didn't for Baymax stopped the pillar*

Baymax: Hello Wasabi.

*Baymax threw the pillar and picked up Wasabi to his feet.*

Baymax: You will be fine.

Hiro: Time to power down ladies.

Juniper: Step off, we're the headliners! It's Juniper's time to shine!

Barb: Juniper launch! 2,5,7,8!

*The electric orb fired up as it charged, launching her to Baymax as he suddenly caught her in his hand. She smirked as the electric currents were at her fingertips and could damage Baymax's armor again.*

Baymax: Oh no.

*With his armor and system scrambled, Hiro, Cora, and Wasabi joined Honey Lemon to avoid Baymax's malfuction.

Baymax: Reboot. Reboot. Reboot. Data packet invalid. Data Packet invalid.

Hiro: We gotta tap out. Anybody wanna tap in?

Gogo: We do!

*Just then Gogo zoomed in with Fred riding on her back*

Gogo: Fred knows how to beat these dance punks.

Fred: Actually I have no idea.

Gogo: What?! Ugh, you said you got the answer from the comic book!

Fred: Yeah to explain Hiro and Cora's Secret Identities situation, was I not clear?

*A zap sent Fred flying towards the gang along with Gogo by crashing into her.*

Gogo: This is a disaster.

Fred: Tell me about it.

Gogo: So Issue 188 didn't tell you ANYTHING that would help defeat them?

Fred: No! Overall, 188 was a letdown. Maybe Richardson did me a favor all those years ago when he cut the power to my house.

Cora: Cut the power...That"s it!

Gogo: Looks like you and I got the same idea kid.

Cora: Honey Lemon, insulate Gogo's disks!

Honey Lemon: Cora, Gogo, you're both geniuses!

Cora: I'll distract High Voltage while Gogo gets that thing down.

*Cora stepped out off the safe zone and began to face off the Mother-Daughter duo. High Voltage threw lighting bolts at Cora but she was quick to either dodge or use her gloves to absorb the electricity and shoot it right back at them.*

Cora: Now Gogo!

*High Voltage was caught off guard as Gogo threw her rubber disks at them and finally cover the electric orb in rubber, rendering High Voltage's powers useless.*

Fred: Use a catchphrase! Say a dumb line like it's a joke even though it's not really a joke.

Gogo: Last dance Freaks!

Fred: *Laughs* Good one!

*With their power useless they were surrounded by seven individuals ready to throw them in prison.*

Barb: Escape dance Juniper! 2,5,7,8!

Honey Lemon: Not so fast!

*Honey lemon threw a rubber chem ball that immediately encapsulated Barb, leaving Juniper free.*

Barb: Juniper!

Juniper: Sorry Mama I'm going solo!

*Juniper backflipped towards the exit*

Juniper: You can't stop the art of danc-

*The art of dance was stopped when her face slammed into Baymax's metallic wings.*

Baymax: My system has been restored. Is anyone hurt?

Gogo: Aside from their pride? No one was hurt thankfully.

*Honey Lemon encapsulated Juniper as soon as she was down.*

Barb: You're grounded!

Baymax: Have I missed anything of significance?

Hiro: We're all good Baymax, just some pretty quick thinking from Cora and Gogo.

Gogo: Big ups to Fred for the inspiration, even if it was completely unintentional.

Fred: That's what I do!

Hiro: Fred, Secret Identity, What have you got?

Fred: Uh yes, you see... Captain Fancy's alter ego Slash Luper may look like Captain Fancy in a sweater vest. But nobody ever recognizes him, not even Newsreport Reater Rampart!

Cora: And that's supposed to explain why Karmi can't recognize us as Hero Hiro and Hero me?

Fred: Yeah, it's a super hero thing. People see what they want to see

*That Friday Morning, Hiro gave his journal to Grandville with Cora and Karmi beside him.*

Hiro: People see what they want to see. Take Lash Luper-

Grandville: Who?

Cora: Not important.

Hiro: When people look at Cora or I, what do they see? Robotics major, Marine bio major, teen geniuses, and maybe just some teens trying to fit in. Because that's what Karmi saw. And we thank her for that, and for our journal.

Grandville: Karmi?

Karmi: I don't know what to say...

Cora: Cause you're modest that way. Professor, Karmi was great this week, we learned a lot.

Grandville: I'm happy to hear it. You're dismissed.

*Once Karmi walked silently to the door, Hiro and Cora looked at Grandville.*

Hiro: So...all this wasn't actually about Cora and I was it?

Grandville: We are through here Mr. Hamada.

Hiro: It was actually about Karmi, am I right?

Grandville: I said we are through.

*As soon as the teen couple exited Grandville's office, Cora suddenly gave a heartfelt kiss to Hiro, to which he blushed immensely while Karmi simply rolled her eyes. As soon as she let go she whispered.*

Cora: You and Baymax go on ahead to the marine hall. I'll catch up in a bit.

Hiro: A-a, okay C-Cutie, I-I mean Cora!

*Hiro, still somewhat dazed and blushing like crazy from the kiss, starts speed walking away with Baymax following after him.*

Baymax: Your hormones are rapidly surging and there's an increase of endorphins and oxytocin.

Hiro: *Getting embarrassed* Now's not the time Baymax.

Baymax: Your heart beat is accelerating and you have sweaty palms.

Hiro: *Still embarrassed and now getting annoyed* Let it go Baymax!

*As soon as Hiro and Baymax were out of sight, Cora turned her attention to Karmi. She took a deep sigh as she thought over her words, finally she spoke.*

Cora: Karmi, you and I both know that Hiro and I had a perfect chance to expose your rotten behavior, but we didn't.

Karmi: I know...hehe, I guess your boyfriend really has it hard for-

Cora: *Hardened glare* That kind of talk has to stop now. You had given me every reason why I should have spoken up to Grandville over your infectious sour attitude. You were butt-hurt over Hiro and I joining SFIT, and that's something you'll have to face eventually in the future once the upcoming generation realizes they can be here too if they work hard and give their all into it. But you didn't stop there, you continuously insulted Hiro and I whenever Grandville wasn't around to hear it, not only that, you continue to claim that Hiro likes you even when you know clearly that We. Are. Dating! Even then you gag at us like a preschooler calling out on us for having cooties which is ironic since you study them! This social experiment was all about you and you know it. You and I both got here because we worked our butts off to get into this school! Especially Hiro after all with what happened with his brother and Callaghan. We all made it here because of hard work and giving it our all to be the best we can be, and you can not act like you're the queen here because you kiss up to Grandville. You know why real Queens like Elizabeth or even fictional ones like Elsa are respected and loved monarchs? They gave their subjects the same respect any human being deserves.

*At the time Karmi could only stay silent, any words to backlash at Cora was gone.*

Cora: Ultimately the reason why Hiro and I didn't expose the deadly virus you acted to us was because...you have no experience talking to us. I understand that, I was home-schooled my whole life up until now. I remember how fun it was to study subjects far more advanced than others..but it was still lonely. Hiro and I are together and have friends because Tadashi took the time to listen. He supported us and talked to us, and our friends have been amazing people. You know how I said we can all work hard and give it our all to achieve anything? That includes friendships too. And friendships require respect for each other. Look, I have something I think you should see.

*Cora pulled up her phone to reveal her own personal video diary, first showing Hiro and Cora hanging out with their friends, then to the week with Karmi.*

Cora: I have proof to show Grandville how you really treated us. But I won't...under one condition. You have to give respect to earn respect, that's how I won't expose this. If you genuinely show decency to Hiro and I and anybody else who goes to talk to you, let them speak and actually listen. This doesn't mean we're automatically BFFs, what this starts is respect as classmates. It's your choice to start a genuine connection with people who may also share in your interests too. Okay?

Karmi:...Okay...

Cora: Cool...so...I also noticed you ate the food I gave you before. You can ask me anytime you want-

*An alert on Karmi's phone interrupted them.

Karmi: Big Hero 7 news alert!

*On the phone was a news reporter telling last nights events.*

News reporter: High Voltage's rhythmic reign of terror began a reign of error when the Mother-Daughter duo ran into Big Hero 7-

*Karmi paused the video to zoom in on Super Hero Hiro and Super Hero Cora smiling together and holding hands.*

Karmi: *Sigh* These two are so romantic, if only someone like him would look at me like he looks at her.

*Cora shook her head before she left to join Hiro for their date.*

Cora: *Sing song voice* See ya later Karmi~

News reporter: Big Hero 7 'shocked' High Voltage by insulating them in a maximum security prison.

*The person watching the news now saw the news reporter give the Big Hero 7 report, but he was more invested on Hiro and Cora. As the image of them appeared half of his face glowed an ominous mauve pink glow.*

To look for the previous Chapters, search Big Hero 7 on my tags! Love you guys!

#Big Hero 7 #Big Hero 6 fanfic #Hiro Hamada #Cora Mizichio #Hiro Hamada x OC #Baymax #fred frederickson iv #Wasabi #Gogo tomago #Honey Lemon #Professor Grandville #High Voltage #Juniper Bh6 #Barb bh6 #Obake

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theartofbeinganerd · 6 years

Text

So...I was hoping to have another prompt finished by today, but I only have a lot of half-started ones. However! I was going back through some older fics the other day, and happened across this one, which was written roughly two years ago (and is also the first time I ever wrote about Evelyn!), so I figured I’d share this instead.

(Ao3)

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Fitz,” Jemma hissed under her breath, sending an apologetic look toward Coulson, who had paused in his briefing to turn toward them with an arched eyebrow.

Fitz shot an incredulous look at her, then glanced back toward Coulson with sharply narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jemma’s been out of the field for months, sir. You can’t possibly want to send her out now, of all times!” To complete his statement, he gestured harshly toward Jemma’s bulging stomach, just nine days out from her due date now.

“Fitz,” Jemma repeated, though her tone was now soothing as she laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“Simmons will be perfectly safe on the Zephyr,” Coulson reminded him, his voice calm in the face of Fitz’s anger, though his eyebrow was still raised at the outburst. “No harm will come to her, or your daughter, I promise. But, we need Simmons out in the field; I’m afraid that it’s necessary at this time.”

Fitz opened his mouth, seemingly about to argue their orders yet again, but then May stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t let her out of my sight,” she promised him solemnly.

Frowning, Fitz glanced between May’s unwavering expression and Jemma’s comforting smile. After a moment, he let out a long sigh and gave a sharp nod. “Alright. Alright, fine. But you will stay on the Zephyr, Jem, okay?”

Jemma rolled her eyes at that, heaving a sigh at her husband’s chronic over-protectiveness. “Yes, alright.” With that settled, she turned back to Coulson, who looked vaguely amused but was clearly more than ready to finish the briefing. “Sorry sir, continue.”

“Thank you.” Coulson cleared his throat, then turned back to the large screen in his office, on which there was an infrared map of the warehouse suspected to contain the tech and weapons of all kinds that had been stolen from various labs and agencies around the globe and then stashed by AIM. There wasn’t much they could tell by the map, other than that there was something inside it giving off a lot of heat. “We’re unclear as to the security surrounding the warehouse and what to expect once we’re inside. That’s what we need Fitz for, taking point with Daisy on the entry, leading the rest of the team inside, while Simmons runs back-end from the Zephyr.” He paused then, glancing around at the gathered team soberly. “This is our chance to deal a crushing blow to AIM, so let’s not waste it.”

After the briefing finished, it was little time before they were on the Zephyr and departing for the site of the warehouse. Fitz was quiet for most of the trip, obviously brooding, and it was a few minutes before touchdown that Jemma finally pulled him aside, lowering her voice to assure him, “I’ll be fine, Fitz. I’m quite capable of protecting myself, and I’ll have May with me. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Fitz still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either, and Jemma accepted that as the closest thing she’d get to an agreement. “Just…be careful, okay?”

“I could say the same thing,” Jemma shot back, finding both of his hands with hers and linking their fingers together. “You will be careful, won’t you? I’d hate to have to defy science and find a way to resurrect you only to kill you myself for leaving me to raise your grumpy Scottish spawn alone.”

“Ah, quite a bother that would be, hmm?” Fitz gave a low chuckle, leaning in to press a loving kiss to her forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of causing you such an inconvenience.”

“Good.” Jemma tilted her chin up to catch his lips with her own, murmuring into their kiss, “I love you.”

Fitz gave her hands a squeeze, dropping a few more pecks on her lips before he replied, “I love you, Jemma.” Gently releasing her hands, he then placed his own on her stomach, dropping to his knees before her so that he could plant an affectionate kiss to where she housed their daughter. “And I love you, sweetheart.”

“Awww.”

They both glanced up at Daisy’s coo, finding her standing nearby with her hands clasped beneath her chin.

“You guys are too adorable for words,” she added with a beaming grin. She reached out, grasping Fitz’s arm and tugging him up to his feet. “Come on Daddy, we’ve got to get going.”

“Don’t ever call me that,” Fitz replied with a grimace, shaking off Daisy’s grip on his arm. He turned back to Jemma, giving her a warm smile as he told her, “I’ll see you soon, Jem.” And with that, he, Daisy, and Mack headed off of the cloaked Zephyr and to the nearby warehouse.

As Jemma watched him leave, she felt her stomach seem to twist itself up in knots, and she fought down the sudden and desperate desire to get him to stay. She shook it off, trying to get her heart rate back to a normal rhythm as she took her seat at the center console, running a cursory glance over it to make sure everything was turned on and working. She felt a presence behind her, just over her shoulder, and glanced back to find May standing behind her with her arms crossed, her gaze trained on the screen. Flicking on the comms, Jemma asked the team, “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Simmons!” Daisy chirped in confirmation.

“We can hear you, Jemma,” Fitz added, and even though it had been mere moments since they’d parted, the sound of his voice sent a wash of calm over her.

“So,” Daisy started, her tone entirely too casual, “Have you decided to name your daughter after me yet? Because I mean it’s a pretty obvious choice, if you ask me.”

“We’re not naming her after you,” Fitz replied in exasperation, “You’re already her godmother, Daisy.”

“We’re going to name her after Fitz’s grandmother,” Jemma put in helpfully as she kept an eye on their heat signatures, getting closer and closer to the warehouse. They’d only come to the decision recently, but it had made the most sense; other than his mum, Fitz’s beloved grandmother had been his only family, and they’d always been quite close. Unfortunately, she’d died not long before Fitz had left for the Academy, so Jemma had never gotten the chance to meet her, but every time he told a story about her, it was easy to see how dearly he’d loved her.

“What’s –” Daisy started, but was cut off abruptly by May.

“Cut the chatter,” she said sharply, and Jemma winced a bit guiltily, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder, but May wasn’t looking at her. “You’re approaching the target.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Fitz said lowly, “We’re going in,” and Jemma’s heart leapt into her throat.

Things were calm and simple at first, with Fitz easily bypassing security, with some help from Daisy, and Mack’s familiar rumble could be heard over the comms, sharing his suspicions about it being “too damn quiet”. The team had just reached the main room of the warehouse when Fitz prompted lowly, “Jemma?”

“Yes?” Jemma replied quickly, leaning closer to the screen, as though that would somehow bring them closer.

“Are we seeing what I think we’re seeing?” Just then, the feed from Fitz’s phone went live on the screen, and Jemma squinted through the dark to see –

“You need to get out of there,” she said hurriedly, her eyes growing wider the longer she stared in horror at the very dangerous chemical bomb that had gone missing from a research and development lab the previous week – and the blinking light that told her it was armed.

“Shit,” Fitz mumbled under his breath. “Are they tryin’ to blow this place to kingdom come?”

“We have to shut it down!” Daisy hissed into the comm, and in Fitz’s video feed, Jemma could see her getting closer.

“No!” Jemma cried, struggling up out of her seat, but there wasn’t anything she could do from the Zephyr.

“It’s still gonna go off, Jemma, and people could get hurt,” Fitz reminded her reasonably, but Jemma didn’t want to be reasonable while her husband was in very real danger. “I need your help to talk me through shutting it down.”

“No!” she repeated, shaking her head. She didn’t want him any closer to it; she just wanted him back on the Zephyr and in her arms, where she knew that he was safe and whole and not in any danger of getting blown to pieces.

“Simmons,” May murmured from behind her, placing a placating hand on her shoulder. “The sooner Fitz shuts it down, the sooner they can get the hell out.”

Jemma darted a desperate glance at May, but her expression was firm and unwavering, and it helped to soothe Jemma’s emotions, thrown completely out-of-whack by her pregnancy hormones. “Right. Right.” Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the image of the bomb on the screen. “Okay Fitz, here’s what you do first.”

She was nearly finished helping him to disarm it when Mack could be heard shouting, “Take cover!” followed by the sound of guns going off and bullets pinging off of metal.

Much to her disconcertion, Fitz didn’t listen, and continued to work on the bomb, although his hands did begin to move more quickly. “Fitz!” Daisy cried at him, “Get the hell down!”

“Almost done,” Fitz mumbled, and had Jemma been able to find her breath, let alone her voice, in that moment, she’d have shouted at her incredibly foolish husband herself. When the armed light went off, they both breathed simultaneous sighs of relief, and Jemma calmed down a bit.

Then, it all went to hell.

Fitz could be heard crying out in pain over the comms, just before they cut out at the same moment that his video feed did, and they were blind.

Frantically, Jemma tapped at the controls, desperately trying to get it back up and working. “Fitz? Fitz?!” But, there was nothing except static, and it was getting hard to breathe. They’d walked right into a trap. They’d walked right into a trap, and Fitz was hurt god knew how badly, and she had no clue what was going on or how to help. Unless…

Quickly, she whirled to face May, who was gazing at the blank screen in an expression that was as close to fear as she got, though her brows were lowered in fierce anger.

“May,” she begged, grasping the older woman’s arm and bringing her eyes to her pleading face, “Please, you need to go help them, you need to help him.”

For a moment, May looked tempted, glancing toward the exit of the Zephyr, but then she shook her head. “No. No, I’m not leaving you unprotected, Simmons.”

“They’re the ones that need protection!” Jemma reminded her, and at any other time she would’ve winced at how shrill her voice came out, but it was the least of her worries at the moment.

“No,” May repeated, her tone final and quite terrifying. “Simmons –”

She was cut off by the crack of gun being fired, and Jemma gasped when the screen behind her shattered. She whipped around to find a few AIM agents that must’ve snuck onto the Zephyr firing at them from around the corner, and she quickly raised her arms to wrap around her stomach, a meager attempt to protect her baby.

May pulled a gun from the back of her waistband, and despite the situation, Jemma felt a flash of surprise to find that she was already carrying a gun, given her constant mantra of, “if I need a gun, I’ll take one”. “Get down, Simmons!” she snapped, raising the gun with one hand and shoving Jemma down and behind her with the other. She returned the gunfire, and Jemma heard a shout of pain or two from the men before she was being yanked back to her feet and led by May further into the Zephyr, where they’d have more cover.

They ended up in the medical supply room, where May (quite politely, all things considered) shoved Jemma behind a desk and following behind to give herself cover. Jemma curled up around her stomach, wincing at the tumultuous feeling in it making her quite nauseated. “It’s alright, love,” she whispered to her baby, rubbing a hand over her rounded belly soothingly. “Calm down, it’s alright.”

May shot her a concerned look, and seemed about to ask something, but then a glass container on the counter in front of them shattered, and she forgot all about it, leaning around the desk to return the fire. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through the pain now flaring out from her stomach to her back, as she listened to the battle raging around her.

Some indefinable amount of time later, May rose from her spot beside her, and Jemma’s eyes sprung open. She watched as May carefully scanned the room, peering out into the hall before stepping out of the room. A moment later, she returned, tucking her gun back into her waistband. “All clear,” she declared as she squatted back down beside Jemma. “Are you alright, Simmons?”

The pain had receded from her lower body, only to return a few moments later, and Jemma could feel sweat breaking along her hairline as she leaned back heavily against the desk. “No,” she moaned, cupping her stomach and shaking her head. “Fitz is… I need Fitz. I need my husband.”

“Jemma, come on, stay with me,” May commanded, gripping Jemma’s shoulder tightly enough to force her gaze back to her. “Are you in labor?”

A sob built in her throat, and Jemma pressed her lips tight together as she nodded her head rapidly. When the contraction she’d been experiencing ended, she let out a gust of air, sagging a bit in relief. But, it was short-lived, as a moment later she told May, verging on hyperventilating, “I need Fitz, I can’t…I won’t do this without him and he…he could be hurt or…or worse and I…I can’t, May, I can’t –”

“Shhh,” May interrupted, lifting her hand from Jemma’s shoulder to brush her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Fitz is fine, Jemma. He’ll be here. You’ve got time.” With a frown, she lifted her head, glancing around, then reached down to help Jemma up. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

With May’s support, Jemma made it to the containment pod, which held the only vaguely comfortable bed on the plane. Even as she talked Jemma through the (thank god, still quite far apart) contractions slowly increasing in pain, she kept an eye through the window of the pod, ever vigilant for anyone else intending to kill them.

It’d been roughly an hour, just as Jemma was descending into an all-out panic, when May stiffened and hurried out of the pod, calling out over her shoulder for Jemma to, “Stay calm, Simmons”, which did anything but make her feel calm.

If she hadn’t currently been feeling as though her entire lower body was being torn in half, Jemma would’ve sat up to glance through the window to find whatever it was that had May on alert. As it was, though, all she could do was grip the mattress and clench her teeth tight together as she breathed through the pain.

Mid-contraction, she heard footsteps moving toward the open door of the pod, and she forced her eyes open to make sure that it was May and not another armed AIM agent – not that she could do much to protect herself at the moment.

However, it was neither.

Jemma sucked in a surprised breath when she saw Fitz, being half-carried by Mack, who gestured to her and said pointedly, “See Fitz, she’s alright.”

“Jemma,” Fitz sighed in relief, looking more than a little exhausted as he leaned heavily on Mack. His face was dirt-streaked and covered in blood and sweat, and he was pressing his free hand to a spot low on his abdomen that seemed to be leaking blood out through his fingers.

“What –” Jemma’s demand to know what the hell had happened was cut off by an intense flare of pain in her back, and she let out a pained moan as she curled in on herself in a vain attempt to protect herself from the sharp ache in her womb.

“Whoa Turbo –” As Mack’s surprised exclamation was reaching her ears, she felt someone sit down heavily beside her on the bed, followed by clumsy fingers brushing back the strands of hair sticking to her sweaty cheeks.

Cracking open her eyes, she found Fitz gazing down at her in worry through his own pain bowing his mouth. “Fitz,” she groaned, trying for a fierce glare, but it never quite finished forming. At least, it didn’t until the contraction had finally ended and she could focus her full attention on it. “You absolute, self-sacrificing fool, you need medical!”

“No, I need to be with you,” Fitz argued, shaking his head fiercely, though he grimaced and pressed his hand a bit tighter to his wound. “You need me –”

“What I need is for you to not be bleeding out when I give birth to our daughter, Fitz,” Jemma shot back, though she softened it by reaching up to caress his cheek. “The sooner you get yourself fixed up, the sooner you can glue yourself to my side, alright?” When Fitz grudgingly nodded in response, she went on, “Was it a graze, a clean in and out, or is it still inside you?”

Fitz made a face, glaring down at his side, but it was Mack that spoke up from the doorway, “No exit wound, and the angle was off for a graze.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed in worry, and she mentally ran over their options before nodding sharply. “Alright, we’re going to need a med-kit, some towels, and a bowl of clean water.” Turning to Mack, who had been about to dart off to retrieve said items, she asked, “Mack, how squeamish are you?”

He paused, half-turning back to glance at Jemma in confusion. But, when he seemed to understand, he groaned, “Oh hell no.”

“Sorry,” she replied, though her tone was a bit sharper than she’d been intending as she shifted to try and sit up, only to cause a brief but sharp ache in her lower body. Through the pain and swatting away Fitz’s attempts to aid her, she hissed out, “I’d do it myself if my body wasn’t preparing to eject a small human being from it.”

Mack grimaced at her description, but nodded in acknowledgement, then rushed off to get the requested supplies. He’d been gone only a moment when May returned, looking quite unhappy. “Where’s Mack? They did something to cut the power in the Zephyr, and I can’t get flight systems online.”

Fitz almost seemed to make a move to stand, but Jemma reached out and clasped the front of his shirt, yanking him back down. He looked upset, but seemed to recognize that he was no help in his current condition, and explained to May a bit guiltily, “Jemma’s enlisted him to help stitch me up.”

May’s sharp eyes darted down to his wound, covered by his hand, now dripping blood onto the once sterling white sheets of the bed. Concern flickered in her eyes for a moment, then she was bringing her gaze back up to meet Fitz’s as she replied, “I’ll send Daisy – I need Mack to get this plane in the air.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared.

A few minutes later, not long after Jemma’s most recent contraction had ended, Daisy arrived, carrying the items Jemma had asked of Mack. “May said I’m playing doctor’s assistant,” she explained, setting the armload down on the ground by the bed. Making a face, she asked hesitantly, “I’m not…delivering your baby, right?”

“We’ve got at least a few more hours before we have to worry about that,” Jemma assured her. “For now, you’re going to remove the bullet in Fitz’s abdomen and stitch him up.”

“I’m…what?” Daisy gaped up at them in disbelief, her wide eyes shooting from Fitz’s bloody wound to the med-kit beside her. “Jemma, you’re joking, right?”

“I can hardly do it myself, Daisy!” Jemma reminded her a bit impatiently. “I’m going to talk you through it, but we need to work fast.”

Daisy still looked terrified and unsure, but she quickly nodded, spreading out a few towels and helping Fitz down onto them, then Jemma down to kneel beside them. She looked near tears as she pulled off his jacket and shirt and he groaned and writhed with pain, constant apologies flying from her lips. Clearly trying to make light of the situation, even as she sniffled, she teased, “No wonder you got pregnant, Jem.”

“I’m bloody bleeding to death, and you’re sexually harassing me?” Fitz groused, but the heat behind his words was lost to the pain seizing his voice.

Jemma offered Daisy a small, encouraging smile and she reached out to clasp Fitz’s hand supportively, then she took a deep breath and began instructing her. Throughout the next half hour, Jemma became likely one of the only women – if not the only woman – ever to aid in performing a surgery while experiencing contractions, and she knew that once this was all over, she’d be quite proud of herself. It was certainly one for the history books, and was sure to be quite entertaining to their daughter someday – when she was old enough to hear such a story.

Once Fitz was all stitched up and mostly cleaned of the blood, covered by a fresh shirt, Daisy helped him into a chair beside Jemma’s bed, but Jemma had refused to return to bed just yet, wanting to stretch her legs a bit. She had tried to insist that he take pain medication, but he’d resisted, firmly stating that he wanted to be clear-headed and one-hundred percent present when she delivered their baby girl.

Time simultaneously seemed to speed by and slow to crawl after that, as Daisy was called to help Mack in his efforts to fix the Zephyr’s flight systems, and Jemma’s contractions drew steadily closer and closer. By her estimation, she had to be at least five to six centimeters dilated by now – it was all happening much quicker than she’d planned for in the months leading up to her due date. However, in all her planning, she hadn’t accounted for the stress of the mission and being shot at.

Luckily, she managed a bit of sleep between contractions, and felt just a bit more rested and relaxed when she woke up. However, then May was arriving at the door to the pod, her expression grim. “We’re grounded for right now, Simmons. Whatever they did, it was thorough. Coulson’s sending an extraction team, but –”

“It’ll be sometime before they arrive,” Jemma surmised with a sigh, even as she nodded in understanding. “So this is happening here.”

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” May promised, stepping further into the room to stand beside the bed next to Fitz’s chair. “Everything’s going to be alright, Jemma.”

Even though Jemma was quite sure that May had never delivered a baby before, she believed her, nodding gratefully and giving her a warm smile in response. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” May insisted, shaking her head, and before Jemma could correct her, she’d disappeared once more.

Sometime later, when things were really getting intense in Jemma’s uterus and Fitz had probably lost all feeling in his right hand (though she couldn’t quite tell, given that his encouraging words hadn’t ceased in the slightest), May reappeared in the pod, arms laden with gloves, scissors, and fresh towels. The clothing covering her bottom half had long since been removed, and without hesitation, May moved the blanket lying over Jemma’s legs to check her progress. “Looks as though we’re about ready,” she informed Jemma, even though she’d already guessed that she was almost there.

“Okay,” Jemma breathed, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the pillow.

Fitz leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, murmuring against her skin, “You’re doing fantastic, Jemma. You’ve got nothing to worry about; you’re going to excel at this like you do everything else. You’re amazing, love.” With a tired smile, Jemma turned her head to nuzzle her nose against his, pressing a grateful kiss to his lips.

Once the pushing began, Jemma lost any and all track of time as her world narrowed down to getting her baby safely out and pain. She tried incredibly hard to focus on the former, while Fitz ended up getting the brunt of the latter as she squeezed his hand and crushed his fingers, but he took it all in stride. The next time that Jemma became aware of anything other than push push push, it was due to the sight of their baby, their daughter, for the first time as she entered the world, helped along by May.

Time sped up from there, and before she knew it, Jemma was holding her wailing baby girl to her chest. She was wrapped in a towel and had already had a cursory onceover by May, the umbilical cord having been snipped by a teary-eyed Fitz. With shaking hands, Jemma cradled her daughter closer, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks as she cooed, “Oh my darling, oh my precious baby girl, look at you. So beautiful. My darling Evelyn.” As soon as the name passed her lips, she knew that they’d chosen correctly – it fit their little girl perfectly.

“God, she’s perfect,” Fitz whispered, reaching out with a similarly trembling hand to cradle her much tinier one between his fingers. “She’s incredible.” Even though she heard him grunt in pain as he leaned over, he dropped a loving kiss to the top of Evelyn’s head.

She appeared to be calmed, and rather confused as well, by their voices, as her crying had ceased and she wiggled around a bit before blinking open her eyes. They were blue, like all other newborns, but Jemma could tell instantly that hers weren’t going to change. With a watery gasp, she glanced up from Evelyn’s blue eyes into their matching pair in her father’s face. “She has your eyes,” she murmured, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill over onto her cheeks.

“And your everything else,” Fitz pointed out teasingly, though he seemed a bit choked up as well at the sight of their daughter with his eyes. With a grin, he leaned in to meet Jemma’s lips with his, murmuring against them, “I love you, Jemma.”

“I love you,” she replied instantly, pressing another couple of kisses against his lips before pulling back to beam at him.

At some point, May had disappeared, likely to give their little family a bit of time alone together, but Jemma was just about to ask Fitz for her so that she could thank her when she felt Evelyn fussing against her.

Peering down at Evelyn in surprise, Jemma gave a disbelieving laugh at finding that she was already rooting. “Hasn’t even been in the world for a full ten minutes and she’s already hungry; she’s definitely your daughter, Fitz.”

Fitz grinned proudly, puffing out his chest as he replied, “Got all my best qualities, she did. That’s my girl.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him, though the effect was ruined somewhat by her smile as shrugged out of her shirt and bra with a little help from Fitz. After a couple tries, Evelyn managed to latch on, and Jemma smiled triumphantly. “See, we’ve got this, haven’t we sweetheart?” Absently, she stroked Evelyn’s back as their daughter enthusiastically fed. Suddenly, something occurred to her, and she glanced up at Fitz with wide eyes. “Did someone check the time? Oh, we’ve got to know what to put on the birth certificate, and she’ll no doubt want to know someday and –”

“It was 12:19, Jem,” Fitz hastened to answer her before she could get anymore worked up. “I made sure to check, ‘cause I knew you’d freak out if I didn’t.”

“Well of course I would,” Jemma huffed in response. “It’s important.” Given the time they’d left the base, it was obviously just past midnight, rather than noon, which meant that it was the next day, and that meant… “Oh my god.” She blinked a couple times as she realized what the date was, and the fact that just yesterday morning, she’d been discussing birthday plans for Fitz for the following day with Daisy, and that could only imply one thing. “That means…”

Fitz chuckled, clearly having already come to the same conclusion. He nodded at Evelyn, still suckling away, and answered the unspoken question. “Yes Jemma, Evie and I share more than an apparent love of your breasts.”

Jemma took another moment to soak in the information, then she smiled softly at him and murmured, “Happy Birthday, Fitz.”

He returned the smile, reaching out to rest a hand over Jemma’s on Evelyn’s back as he replied quietly, “I think it’s my best one yet.”

It wasn’t much longer before extraction arrived with the necessary equipment to fix the Zephyr, and much to Fitz’s annoyance, he was drafted to help due to being the one to actually design the plane. During that time, Daisy came to visit Jemma and Evelyn, excited to meet her goddaughter, and she was closely followed by Coulson, who had arrived with the extraction team and tried to hide the way that he got choked up as he held Evelyn for the first time. They both eventually left to give Jemma some time alone with her daughter, though it wasn’t long before May was sticking her head in the door to let her know they’d be taking off soon.

Before May could disappear again, though, Jemma stopped her, calling out, “Wait, May!” She paused, turning back to face Jemma with an arched eyebrow. “I…I wanted to thank you for…well, for protecting us, and of course, for making sure that she arrived safely.”

“It was nothing,” May repeated, brushing off Jemma’s gratitude easily. She seemed about to leave once more, but stayed when Jemma called out to her again.

A bit hesitantly, Jemma offered, “You… Would you like to hold her?” She held the now sleeping Evelyn out slightly toward May, and saw her glance in the direction of the cockpit before she nodded, stepping further into the room and taking the offered bundle.

Effortlessly, her arms settled into the correct position to cradle Evelyn, and she gazed silently down at her for a very long moment. In the quiet, Jemma settled back into the mattress, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her now that she no longer had her newborn to distract her from it. She was about to give in to the temptation to close her aching eyes for a little bit when she heard May admit so lowly that she almost didn’t hear, “She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a granddaughter.”

Jemma’s eyes flew open in disbelief, and even taken aback as she was by the closed-off May admitting something so personal, she still cried in indignation on May’s behalf, “You’re not old enough to be a grandmother!”

The tiniest of smiles flickered across May’s face, and it appeared to be the only response Jemma was going to receive, as a moment later, she handed Evelyn back to her and left the pod once more without a word.

With a small smile of her own, Jemma informed the oblivious Evelyn, “That’s May, my darling. You’re so very fortunate to know her, because as I’m sure you’ll learn, she’s one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. Plus, I think she has a bit of a soft spot for you, which you’ll also learn is quite rare. But, your daddy and I are lucky as well, because we’ll never have to worry about your safety as long as May’s around to keep you safe. There’s no one we’d trust more.” As an end to her statement, she dropped a little kiss onto Evelyn’s tiny forehead, her warm smile still in place.

And, little did she know, there was a similar smile forming on May’s lips just outside the containment pod as she swiftly wiped away the single tear that had escaped down her cheek. She lingered a moment longer, then allowed her smile to drop into her normal non-expression as she went to check on the progress of the repairs. However, even if no one could tell from the outside, on the inside she was still feeling warm and light and so very fortunate for the family she’d never dared to hope for after Bahrain – but that didn’t matter, because they’d found her anyway, and forced their way right into her heart no matter how high her walls and how much distance she’d tried to put between herself and them.

Now, however, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #pretty heavy on the maysimmons too #with some brief moments of fitzdaisy #which i think we could all use some of right about now #shield family #written around the end of season 3 #i'd completely forgotten about this fic tbh

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