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#in school where there’s constant noise i’m good
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i should get a medal for getting through every day even though there’s Textures but worst of all Sounds
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Bad PR-Jordan Li Fic
A/N: I saw someone post about needing a fic about Jordan being in a relationship where they're "unmarketable" and haven't been able to get the idea out of my head since. This is written with a black reader in mind. I also have a sequel in mind if anyone wants it.
Word Count: 3739
Warnings: Some sensuality and swearing.
I don't claim to own any characters or property from Gen V or The Boys. All credit to the original gif creators.
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  Silence was something that I always thought I longed for. Every day for the past twenty years, there was noise, whether it was someone (usually multiple) talking, music blasting, cars going by, or screaming. By now, I thought I would have learned how to tune it out and focus on what was most important: save the little kids from a burning school, study as hard as I could to get into GOD U, and manipulate social media algorithms so much it would make tech experts’ heads spin.
   But, I hadn’t. Then, I thought I got used to the noise, the demands to take pictures with total strangers, the background noise of a song I was doing a TikTok challenge to, Liza, my Vought-assigned PR rep, and my parents insisting on what I should wear, and the constant buzzing in the back of my head that my ability caused. However, as I laid on Jordan’s bed, listening to them ramble about Brink, I didn’t mind the noise so much.
  “I mean, he’s kind of a mad genius but for good,” Jordan stated. Then, they turned to me with a sheepish smile on their face. “Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
  I shook my head. “No, no, it’s alright. Brink’s brilliant and it’s amazing that you’re his mentee.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Besides, you’re pretty cute when you’re excited.”
  Jordan rolled their eyes and slowly made their way towards me, stopping right at the foot of their bed. “Only when I’m excited?”
  “Shut up, you know you always look good,” I teased.
   They playfully flipped their hair and batted their eyes. “Well, we can’t all have a glam squad on call so I appreciate it.”
   I scoffed, rose to my knees, and playfully pushed their shoulder only for them to switch to their masculine form and grab my hand. “That’s not fair and I didn’t even ask for them, my parents and Liza insisted on it when I got in.”
   Jordan nodded but I could tell they weren’t listening since their eyes were on my lips. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
   Something about their deeper masculine voice sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach feel fuzzy. Then again, they easily caused the same effect in both forms. My breath caught in my throat as soon as our lips touched, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. I tried to relax in their gentle but firm grip as I wrapped my hands around their neck, but it was easier said than done.
   Suddenly, my back was against their bed and the kissing got more fervent. Jordan slipped their tongue down my throat and trailed one of their hands down my leg. I shivered as they pulled my leg up around their hip and pressed further into me.
   “I should’ve known this is what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out,” I breathed after pulling away for a second.
   “I had good intentions but you kept screwing me with your eyes,” Jordan huffed back.
   “No, I---” Jordan cut me off, switching to their feminine form and kissing my jaw, working their way down my neck. “Not…fair.”
   One of their hands slowly started trailing up under my (their) sweatshirt and I tried to stifle my giggles at the soft touch. After a couple of seconds, I couldn’t help but start giggling and covered my face when Jordan paused their actions and looked up at me.
   “Still ticklish?” Jordan teased.
   “Shut up, it’s your fault since they're your hands,” I groaned through another laugh.
   Jordan smirked at me and ran their hands down my waist, gently tapping my sides, causing more laughter on my end. I tried to reach for their hands to stop them but they were too good at dodging me. At some point during my laughter, my phone started ringing.
    “Ignore it,” Jordan whined as they pressed their head against my stomach, their big brown eyes somehow looking bigger and browner than usual.
   “I can’t,” I whined back as I pulled away from them and grabbed my phone from my desk. “It’s Liza, I have to answer.”
    Jordan rolled their eyes. “That bitch has the worst timing.”
   “She might not be able to help it.” I quickly answered the phone. “Hey, Liza.”
   “Y/N, I’m on campus and we need to talk ASAP. Meet me outside the Crimefighting building in five,” Liza rattled off.
   “Oh, sure, what’s it about?” I asked.
   “I’ll tell you when I see you.”
   She clicked off and I turned to Jordan, who was much less than pleased.
  “Let me guess, you have to go,” they said.
   “I’m sorry, it sounded important,” I said as I started grabbing my stuff from around their room. “I’ll try to make it quick.”
   “No, don’t worry about it.” They pushed themselves off the bed and stood in front of me, gently grabbing my hands in theirs. “It’s your career and I’m proud of you. I knew what I was getting into when the Cyclone became my girlfriend.”
    I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. But I appreciate you and I will show you as much later.” I quickly kissed them and grabbed my shoes. Just as I was about to leave, I paused at something in their closet. “Is that my jacket?”
   Jordan shook their head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
   I snatched the item from the closet and held it out. “Jordan, you’re going to try to convince me that you’re into vintage Yves Saint Laurent?”
       “Your taste rubbed off on me,” they said with a shrug.
       “I’m flattered.” I put it back in their closet.  
        “By the way, do you know where my black hoodie went?”
       “See you later!”
        About four and a half minutes later, I was sitting at an outdoor table with Liza and my parents. Despite the summer heat, Liza was wearing a navy skirt suit, and her graying black hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head. She was typing on two different phones and her laptop simultaneously, deep blue eyes never staying on anything too long. My mom, who sat on my right, smiled kindly.
        “So, Y/N, how does it feel to be a junior?” she asked.
        “Great, Mom. I thought I told you and Dad that you didn’t have to hover this much since I am a junior now,” I said, glancing at my dad who was on my other side.
        “We’re not hovering, it’s been two days since we dropped you off,” Dad insisted. “Besides, this is about business.”
          “Wha---”
           “Oh my gosh, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” Someone squealed behind me.
          “Show time,” I sighed.
          The “someone” was actually two someones, a pair of what looked like freshmen. One was a tall, pretty brunette in a white graphic tee and matching mini skirt and the other was an equally pretty, slightly shorter brunette wearing jean shorts and Vans. The taller one held her V-Phone with a death grip.
           “Can we take a picture with you?” The taller one asked.
           “Of course.” I stood from my seat and made my way over to them.
           “I can take it.” But before my mom could stand, Liza shot up from her seat, grabbed the phone, and ushered us closer together.
           “Okay, Y/N in the middle, Tall Girl on the left, Short One on the right,” Liza instructed, eyes never looking up from the camera.
          “It’s Ashley,” the short one said.
          “Smile!”
          I did as I was told and the girls were walking away before I could even say an obligatory, “No problem.”
            Both my parents smiled as I sat back down.
            “It’s great to see that you’re still popular after all this time,” Dad said, his eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses.
             “As she should be. Y/N has thirty million followers across all her social media and she does amazing in the Midwest and the South, both tough demographics for young black women,” Liza stated.
            “Thanks, Liza,” I said, mindlessly playing with the ends of my butterfly locs. “So, you mentioned you were coming but left out my parents.”
            At this, Liza finally paused from typing and looked up at me. She slowly set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her pale hands. My head involuntarily started shaking from side to side and Liza lifted one of her hands.
            “Let me speak first, Y/N, and then we can argue about it,” Liza stated.
            “The last time you said that, I ended up almost getting mauled by a dog during an animal shelter livestream,” I hissed.
             “Well, the dog had a serious history of trauma,” Liza insisted.
             “You didn’t inform me of that before insisting I cuddle with it for the camera!”
              “It was a learning lesson: you are fantastic under pressure.”
               I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. “So, what is this about?”
              Liza assumed her previous “Serious business” pose. “Like I was saying, you’re doing fantastic numbers. That last TikTok you and Cate did hit a hundred million views in less than twenty-four hours.”
            “The ‘Rover’ challenge wasn’t that hard,” I commented.
             “That’s amazing!” Mom practically cheered.
             “That’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
              I smiled despite the strong sense that a “but” was coming.
             “However,” Liza continued.
              Uh oh.
             “My job is to do everything in my power to make sure everyone associates Y/N Y/L/N and Cyclone with beauty, intelligence, grace, taste, and power. So, we are a little concerned about Jordan.”
              Immediately, my shoulders tensed and I gritted my teeth. “Who exactly is ‘we’?” I glanced at my parents.
                Mom’s eyes widened and I had no idea what Dad was doing.
                “No, of course not, Sweetie, we love Jordan. They have been a fantastic influence on you,” Mom insisted.
               I could feel my face warm up about what had transpired with Jordan a few minutes ago. I doubt that would fall under “good influence”, or any time we went out with the others. 
               “And they give you a run for your money when it comes to combat. You need someone challenging like them. Plus, that Luke boy isn’t bad either,” Dad added.
               As their words sunk in, I had a strange feeling that my parents were there to lessen a Vought-sized blow. My suspicions were confirmed when Liza’s lips pressed more firmly together and she was glancing at one of her phones.
               “Are you reading a script right now?” I seethed.
               Liza’s head shot up and she shook her head. “No, no, Y/N, not at all. Just some notes.” She quickly regrouped. “I understand that you’re happy and you’re probably having some fantastic sex right now----”
               “Liza!” I interrupted, praying that the ground would open and swallow me whole.
               Suddenly, Dad’s arm was back at his side, and Mom was suddenly very captivated by a pair of seniors skateboarding past.
               “But the facts are that a bi-gender Asian supe is not marketable in the Deep South or the Midwest,” Liza said. “I am not shaming Jordan for who they are but, my job is to sustain your relatable-but-unattainable brand and not let anything get in the way of it.”
              “You’re saying my partner is a threat to my career?” I asked, my voice much hollower than I intended.
               “Potentially. Now, I have come up with a very good alternative.” Liza turned her laptop so it was facing my parents and me. On it was a picture of Andre and some clips of us on social media. “Andre Anderson tested very well. Our focus group members responded positively to the black power couple aesthetic.”
             “We’ve met him before, he’s nice,” Mom offered.
              “He’s cool and I’ve met his dad and I could see us all getting along,” Dad mentioned.
               My head was swirling with so many thoughts that I was convinced I was either going to be overwhelmed by them or find one that was coherent enough to state. My mouth settled on, “It’s the twenty-first century and you’re all telling me I have to break up with my partner because of demographics? Jordan’s an amazing supe and they’re so smart, it’s scary. They can do---will do so much good and the only thing you care about is optics?”
               Mom gently touched my arm. “Y/N, please, calm down.”
When I glanced around, I noticed that several Vought-A-Burger wrappers, a couple of cigarettes, and a few panicked squirrels and rabbits were swirling around the table. Quickly, I released the small animals and put the trash in the nearby receptacle.
              “Sorry about that,” I muttered, eyeing Liza.
               “I understand that you have strong feelings for Jordan but, think about it. With the right moves, you could be living in The Tower with the legends of your generation. Sure, you’re number three at GOD U right now, but this status can easily go away. You’ve worked your entire life to be the hero that little black girls everywhere look up to. Don’t take Cyclone away from them before she even starts,” Liza warned.
               I desperately wanted to say something snarky, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could sense was my throat tightening up and my eyes beginning to well. I brushed a loc out of my face to play it off and tried to gain my thoughts.
              “How much time do I have before I make a decision?” I asked.
              “Twenty-four hours. I’ll be looking out for your call, text, email, or video call,” Liza stated as she started to pack her things.
                My parents stood and Mom gave me one of her warm hugs and Dad pulled me to his side.
              “It will be okay, Y/N,” he whispered.
               I swallowed the giant lump in my throat to thank him and then insisted on walking them back to their car.
              A few hours later, Elle Woods was sobbing in the fanciest restaurant in California while I carefully placed my baking pan in the oven. As much as I wanted to sob, I had no time for tears, I had to think. The thinking led me to have so many circular thoughts that my head spun and I resorted to baking and watching my favorite movie.
              If Elle could solve a murder case and exonerate her client as a first-year law student, I should be able to figure out this PR mess. On the one hand, I was happier with Jordan than I’ve ever been with anyone. On the other hand, my dreams and my family’s position were hanging by a thread.
            Maybe it was better that I channeled my energy into baking cupcakes.
            I exhaled a small gust of wind to clear the bowls and utensils from the counter and place them in the dishwasher. Then, I focused on pushing multiple gusts of wind from my hands to clean the counters and wash the dishes. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and flopped on my couch to mindlessly watch the movie.
            Unfortunately, the bright and colorful backdrop of Elle’s LSAT studying montage did nothing to take my mind off my dilemma. All I could think about was Jordan’s face when I told them. Breaking up with them would be like shooting a puppy’s mom in front of the puppy and making it watch it bleed out.
               How would I tell them anyway? Hey, babe, I’m sorry I had to run out on us almost hooking up to meet with Liza and my parents. Funny story, they want me to break up with you so that I have a shot at a career and date Andre instead. See you for that morning lecture?
             Knock! Knock! Knock!
            The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I pushed myself off the couch to answer it. “Rufus, if you try to get me into your room again, I swear to----” I cut myself off at the sight of Jordan, in their feminine form, staring back at me.
            They wore a navy sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Also, their cheeks were more flushed than usual and they smelled like their sandalwood body wash, meaning they had probably stopped by the gym recently.
             “Is Rufus bothering you again? I’ll go murder him right now,” Jordan said.
              I quickly grabbed their wrist. “No, I appreciate the thought but I’m fine, besides, I can take care of myself.”
             “I know but I can’t help but worry.”
              A strange warm, tingling sensation ran its way from the center of my chest throughout the rest of my body. I was sure that if someone listened closely enough, they would hear me buzzing.
             I stepped aside to let Jordan in and leaned against the door to close it. “So, what brings you by?”
            They wandered over to my couch, sat down, and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Because you haven’t been answering my texts or calls.”
             “Crap, I am so sorry, Jordan, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
             Jordan glanced around my dorm. “I can see that.” They sniffed the air. “Legally Blonde and you’re baking, what happened at the meeting?” 
            Of course, Jordan would cut straight to the point. Usually, this kind of banter was pleasant but my stomach was in knots as Liza’s words and my parents’ expressions replayed in my mind.
           “What? I can’t bake and watch a comfort movie after a last-minute PR meeting?” I asked rhetorically, crossing the room to my desk to start organizing my textbooks.
           “Don’t try to deflect, Y/N. Tell me what happened.” Their voice was gentle but firm and I knew that they were not going to let me out of this conversation.
           So, I set Brink’s latest book down and sat across from Jordan on my tangerine accent chair. I prayed that I would find the right words to say before blurting them out. As soon as I made eye contact with them, my chest tightened.
          “Well, Liza surprised me by having my parents join us,” I started.
           Jordan raised their eyebrows. “Shit, this is serious.”
           “Uh-huh. Liza said that my numbers are doing great and I’m on track for a promising career.”
           “And?”
           I gulped. “And…she’s concerned that my personal choices might get in the way of that.”
          Jordan frowned. “Personal choices? Every college kid known to man has done illicit substances and drank alcohol underage. You’ve never been caught doing any of that anyway.”
        “You’re right but she wasn’t talking about partying; she was talking about us.”
         As soon as the bomb rolled off my tongue, I saw its impact on Jordan, from the flashing expressions of confusion and anger to the clenching of their fists. I just wanted to make it stop.
        “What?”
         As I rambled Liza’s reasoning, I could sense the hurt and animosity flowing from Jordan. Once I finished, the timer for the cupcakes went off and I jumped up to grab them. I could have cried at the momentary escape as I set them on the counter to cool.
        “She weaponized your desire to be a positive role model for other girls who look like you to screw you over,” Jordan said slowly.
           I wiped my hands on my sweatpants. “Liza’s doing her job, babe, and she’s looking at all angles, including how it could impact my goals.” I returned to my seat and folded my hands in my lap.
          “Her job is to make you choose between your relationship and your career?” Jordan asked. “That’s bullshit, this whole thing is.”
           “I know, Jordan, trust me, I know, I almost started a small tornado when she said it.”
            Jordan eyed me closely for a second. “What else did she say?”
           “What?”
           “I can tell you’re holding back, Y/N. Whatever else you have to say, it can’t be any worse.”
           They might have just jinxed that.
           “Liza thinks that Andre would be a better fit for me because a bunch of people like the idea of a black power couple.”
           Jordan had two angry responses: the first was they would attempt to tear down anything and everything around them unless consoled. The second was they would become unresponsive and deal with all their rage internally. That night, I got the second one. Their eyes were hollow and the color drained from their face. My eyes welled up as I hoped for them to start screaming, swearing, or something, but nothing happened.
         “But I don’t want to do it, Jordan, I think it’s so stupid.” I knelt in front of them, grabbed my phone from their hands, and set it aside to hold them. “My parents don’t even really agree with Liza because they know you and they think you’re awesome.”
        “What do you think?” they muttered.
        “Like I said, I think it’s stupid. We can figure something else out. Liza can spin us as the ultimate diverse power couple, huh?” I did my best to smile as widely as I could. “Come on, let’s forget about this. I made white velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling. You can be my first taste tester once they cool.”
         Things would work out, they had to. We would figure something out and survive our junior year at GOD U with little to no incidents. Suddenly, Jordan’s hands slipped from my grasp and they shifted to their masculine form.
         “What if it doesn’t work out?” Jordan whispered.
          “What do you mean?” I replied.
         “I mean, you don’t necessarily have to be a supe but, I know that you’re scared for your parents. Your success has helped them a lot and it could destroy them if your reputation takes a hit,” they said. “And I’ve seen how little black girls light up when they see you now and how passionate you are about helping them and, I know that you’re just getting started and I don’t want to be in the way.”          “Jordan…”
         “I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Y/N,” they muttered.
         Their words sunk deep into my core like a boulder and took all my words with it. I wanted to tell them that they could never hold me back and that they made me a better super, a better person. But all I could do was watch as they stood and walked out of my dorm, taking our one and a half year relationship with them.
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ivestas · 1 year
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underlying bitterness
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Summary: You were depressed. The family is quick to notice. 
Tags: platonic!yandere!batfam x fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, depression, coddling, isolation, etc (you know the drill)
Word count: 1.6k
Notes: temporarily back from the dead! decided to finish this since i had it collecting dust in my drafts LMAO---apologies for my lack of writing, i have several projects im combing through and school 😭
The manor never really was quiet; there was always something going on.
The only time the quiet came was when they were out for patrol, or when everyone was asleep—but even then, there always seemed to be a pervasive spirit of noise and life that, on a good day, didn’t bother you.
But today was a bad one. Today, everything was an unbearable stretch of life, a near-constant torment of both mind and soul, leaving you incapacitated by your own head. 
It was these days where the bearable—hell, even the nice—was acidic on your gaunt body. 
A knock on the door had you wearily raising your head. 
A call of your name bounced through the door. The voice was bright and chirpy, downright dripping with honey. “You okay in there? Can I come in?” 
Eleven minutes alone? New record.
You sighed. The question only had one answer. 
“Yes, and yes.” 
The door to your bedroom opened silently, barely a squeak from the hinges. Dick revealed himself with a giant dopey grin, Damian just a step behind him. 
You didn’t bother smiling. “Hey.” 
“Hi!” Bright as always, his movement carried an excitable sway, acting more like a kid than a 20-something bonafide detective/vigilante. There was something predatory about it, an inherent layer of manipulative intent with it that never left you at ease. 
At least Damian was always himself, the deep-set frown never leaving his face in anyone’s presence, including yours. 
You would’ve been inclined to like him had it not been for the palpable softness that eased the furrows of his brows. 
Shifting under the heavy blankets, you pat the other side of the bed, the movement practiced and learned. Routine. 
Damian was the one to take the invitation while Dick sat at the end of your side. He rarely sat there. You didn’t care to decipher his intentions, merely regarding him with the same placidity as you had before. 
“So..?” 
“The family’s noticed you’ve been off lately?” 
Ah.
You shifted some more, feeling the weight of their stares assess every micro-movement made. It wasn’t subtle. This was an interrogation, not their self-indulgent visits that had you puking right after. 
“I’m on my period,” you responded bluntly. 
“Your cycles aren’t during this time of month.” Dick’s voice was deceptively light. 
"Hm, well, the female body works in mysterious ways.” 
“Then I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.”
The silence of your mind buzzed to life. “What?” 
“I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.” He repeated, rising from the bed. 
What the fuck.
You could let him go and find out for himself that you were, indeed, lying. However, you weren’t in the mood to deal with the punishments that came with that...
...Though, regardless, you were going to be punished. Lying—especially to Dick of all people—never bode you well. 
Really, maybe you just weren’t in the mood to deal with the drama, the stormy face he’ll don when he walks out the washroom after finding out the lie. 
So you sighed tiredly, back sinking further into the thick pillow. “I lied.” 
Dick’s pleasant expression flickered. Damian’s stare deepened in its calculating weight. 
Dick spoke slowly. “You know what happens when you lie.” 
You sighed again. It bordered a scoff. “Hurry up with it then.” 
The smile turned to a neutral line, though you knew he was feeling anything than neutral. Dick loathed lies, but he kept a calm voice. “Why’ve you been off lately?” 
“I lied, Dick. Aren’t you supposed to do what you usually do? Neglect and all.” You were flippant. This was gonna make it worse, and at this point you knew better, you always tried to avoid this, but something was possessing you. 
A will, or more accurately, a lack thereof. 
“Just tell him,” Damian hissed. 
You glanced at him, unimpressed. “No.” 
Dick breathed slowly. “Why?” 
“Because you’ll make me feel bad for it.” 
He blinked. Surprised. 
Why was he surprised? Is this another manipulation tactic? 
Probably. Why did you even bother trying to decipher his intentions? Their intentions?
“You’ll make it about you guys. How bad you guys feel. How you want the best for me.” You yawned. “I’m not in the mood to humor that. Pull that some other time, I just need to recuperate. Touch bases with my soul and all that hippie shit.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Okay?” 
A pause thickened the tension in the air tenfold. 
Then, it was Damian who spoke. “You’re..?” 
“Depressed.” Dick finished, mild disbelief lacing his words. What stood out was the underlying offended tone the word wore. 
You didn’t bother responding, keeping your eyes shut, pulling the covers over your chin. It was only midday, but you were tired. 
“Why are you... ‘depressed’?” Damian was the one to speak, now with incredulity. 
“Why is the sky blue?” You muttered. 
Cold fingers brushed your cheek, a colder voice poking through. “Open your eyes when you talk.” 
You did as told, looking up at him from your curled position. “Why are you depressed?” He repeated with a voice of iron. 
“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “None of it does. I’ll be better soon. I just need you to give me space.” 
Another pause. 
Then, uncharacteristically, Damian slipped away. He glanced over where Dick was. 
Dick, even more uncharacteristically, nodded and slipped away, walking with Damian out the room. 
In any other circumstance, your blood would run cold. 
But, at that moment, you were thankful for the temporary relief. 
-----
You hadn’t thought you’d sleep, but you did, only to be awaken by Tim. 
“Dinner’s ready.” He said, eyes burning into yours. 
You grunted, tossing the sheets away. The cold raked your body. Getting off the bed, you glanced out the barred window. 
Sunset. 
How long did you sleep? 
And how come they let you sleep for so long, undisturbed? 
You didn’t care to wonder. Blearily nodding to Tim, you tipped your head to the washroom. “I’m gonna clean up a little, give me a—”
“You look fine, just come.” His hand, now wrapped tightly around your wrist, left no room for complaint. 
Faintly sighing, you nodded again. He led you out the room and through the colder corridors of the manor, down several staircases and past various pillars and paintings you’re always surprised to see, as if you hadn’t been housed in the manor for two-something years. 
Two years. 
730 days wasted here. 
730 days, never to be recovered. 
Your chest tightened, but your heart was empty.
Pushing the thought away, you blankly focused on the outstretched dining table you’d eaten countless meals on. 
Tim said your name. 
You look at him, confused. 
“Sit?” 
Oh. Right. 
You slipped onto the chair, vaguely aware of your surroundings. 
“...That’s my seat.” 
“Sorry,” you moved to get up, but his hands pressed down on your shoulders. 
“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised. That’s all. You’re usually pretty attentive.”
“Sorry,” you repeated. 
Tim didn’t respond, opting to sit beside you. 
You were vaguely aware of the rest of the family settling in their respective positions—Bruce sitting at the head on your left, Dick sitting across you with Damian to his right, and at the end of the table Jason settled with a tired huff.
What you were fully aware of however was how good the food. The aroma was thick and savory, leaving your mouth to water 
Raising a fork, you dug into the food. 
“How was your day?” Bruce was the one to break the silence, and you notice him looking at you. 
“It was good,” you mumbled around the food. 
A silence cradled the room for a moment, the clanks of silverware mute. 
“Was it?”
“Yeah.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“What, is there a right answer to this?” You were daring, careless with your tongue. “Should’ve given me a textbook, woulda studied real hard before coming down.” 
“The right answer is the truth,” Jason spoke up, mouthful of food. “Dickie’s all red and angry you can’t even tell the truth. Honestly? So am I.”
“We all are,” Tim murmured. 
“But you know? We care for you. So just tell us what’s up, yeah?” Although his voice was light, there was an underlying threat to Jason’s words. Tell us or else. 
You set the fork down and looked at Bruce—whose eyes were sweeping all over your face, calculating—the both of you having frowns tugging at your lips. “Okay. I feel like shit. A dumpster fire. Like my very body has been corrupted by dark—I don’t know exactly what that means, but I feel it, so worth mentioning, right?—anyway, all I ask is to be left alone for a bit. That is what will make my mind better. Just a day of quiet. Please?” 
“...Voluntary isolation is a sign of clinical depression,” Bruce began. “And that would do you no good. What you need is the support of family to help you through this illness.” 
“God, no—”
“Listen.” Damian hissed. 
You shut your mouth, eyes downcast. 
“What will happen is every night, you talk to Dick about whatever’s bothering you. Or anyone else. You will talk, and that will help. Anything you need, just tell them; you know this.” 
“Why not get an actual therapist?”
“You can’t trust all therapists,” Dick jumped in. “I’ve trained in psychology, I know all the therapy ins-and-outs. I can help you as well as any licensed one would—if not, better!”
You stifled a sigh but didn’t bother pushing saying anything. 
“You don’t look to happy about that,” Dick commented. “It’s okay. I know its hard to open up when you’ve suffered in silence for so long, but we’re all on your side, okay?”
Jesus. 
You looked down at the food, picking up the fork. It took you everything not to bash your head against the table.  
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Tom Riddle x Reader
Read the second part here
Warnings: borderline stalking, ever so slightly suggestive toward the end, that's pretty much it (i think?)
Word Count: 1.5k+
Summary: Tom thinks you're far too pretty and perfect to not have any secrets.
Note - This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so be merciful please + the reader is written as a Ravenclaw, but you can imagine them as any house you please
Tom sauntered through the labyrinthine passageways of Hogwarts with a stride that exuded nothing less than confidence, his obsidian and emerald green robes billowing behind him like a regal banner. The susurrus of his peers’ opinions filled his ears as he walked by, the young ladies admiring his comely features and the young gentlemen sizing up his pompous attitude. Everyone knew he was quite a force to be reckoned with, including him. With his black, wavy hair and piercing dark eyes that seemed to hold the power to penetrate the depths of one's soul, he commanded attention wherever he went. But tonight, he could only be attentive to finding the new Ravenclaw transfer student, who he had a sinking feeling was beginning to become a cause for concern. 
He had been watching you ever since you arrived at the school. Your beauty was undeniable, but it was your sharp wit and intelligence that really intrigued him. He had watched you closely in class, noticing how you seemed to effortlessly outshine your peers, including himself at times. You were always answering questions and getting them right, constantly impressing the professors with your work, and easily making friends – rarely struggling in, well, anything. 
Tom was an expert in the art of perfection, and you were all too perfect for him to not be suspicious of you. Your aloofness only added to your allure, and he couldn’t help being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. However, being a Slytherin, he knew all too well the importance of upholding his reputation. He didn’t take kindly to anyone who threatened his position, especially not a fresh-faced witch who had yet to earn her stripes. 
Finally, after enduring five grueling months of practically stalking you, he stumbled upon something truly unexpected during his tedious prefect duty. While performing a routine inspection of the hallways, peculiar crackling noises caught his ear, emanating from a nearby storage closet. Luck was on his side as the door was partially ajar, granting him a glimpse of your illicit activity. He watched in amusement as you repeatedly cast the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse. 
Tom knew that he had to act quickly before anyone else found out about your actions just to make your future punishment extra hellish for you. He slipped away from the closet without making a sound, deep in thought. He understood he had to tread carefully, but he was determined to use this new knowledge to his advantage.
Perhaps he may have underestimated your potential, but he was a Slytherin, and he knew how to play the game.
_______________________________
As Tom sat in his classes, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of how to confront you. He knew that he had to be cautious not to arouse suspicion, but he was determined to get to the bottom of the matter. Thanks to his constant surveillance of you, he learned that you always spent Wednesday nights at the astronomy tower, with special permission from the professor. This presented an opportunity for him to confront you privately without any interference.
Night fell, and Riddle made his way to the other side of the castle where the astronomy tower was, ensuring that no one saw him enter. He ascended up the astronomy tower, his steps were silent as he navigated the twisting staircases of Hogwarts. Upon reaching the summit, he saw you standing at the railing behind a large telescope, gazing out at the twinkling stars above. A sly smile spread across his lips as he cleared his throat, announcing his presence. “Good evening, Y/N. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” He couldn’t help but to flash a charming smile. After practising for so long, it came naturally, and he assumed it would win over your favour (as it does for everyone else). “I couldn’t resist the temptation of a starry night.”
You looked up at him through your thick lashes with a polite smile just enough to show acknowledgment, but you didn’t respond. Tom took a few steps to close some of the space between the two of you, eyes still fixed on you. “I wanted to discuss the potions assignment we were paired up on. I thought we could review the details together and make sure we’re both on the same page.” You turned back to the telescope with an annoyingly gorgeous unreadable expression. “I already finished the assignment, Tom. But if you’re struggling, I’d be happy to help.”
Tom felt his eyebrows knit together. You were already getting on his nerves.
“No, I’m not struggling. I just thought it would be good to compare notes and make sure we both did everything correctly.”
“Sure,” you replied plainly, giving nothing away. You hand him your papers, and he scarcely glances over them; he already knows your work is correct, and after all, this mundane assignment was merely an excuse to speak to you.
He cleared his throat again, trying to keep his voice casual. “I must admit, Y/N, I’m very impressed by your work. You seem to have quite the knack for potions.” You shrugged nonchalantly, still focusing on the stars through the telescope. “It’s just something I enjoy. It comes naturally to me.”
Tom continued, “I’m curious, Y/N,” “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to Hogwarts? Surely a young witch of your...talents...has many opportunities elsewhere?”
“I suppose,” you respond coolly, voice laced with ice. “But there is something special about Hogwarts, don’t you think? A certain...magic.” 
Tom’s suspicion only grew. “Well, it’s good to see that Ravenclaw has a promising new student,” he said smoothly, masking his suspicion. “Thanks.” You replied bluntly.
He waited for you to continue the conversation, but realised he was getting nowhere he wanted. He threw aside his original plan to approach you with caution and dropped the façade to expose the real reason he was talking to you.
Tom’s expression darkened, and he stared at you for a long and uncomfortable moment before finally speaking. “I saw you practising the Cruciatus curse last night, Y/N.” 
As he patiently waited to gauge your response, you only remained fixated on the task of making small adjustments to the telescope, leaving him puzzled by your lack of reaction. He had been right to keep a close eye on you. “I know it’s illegal to use the Unforgivable Curses outside of Auror training,” he continued, his voice low with a hint of danger. “What were you planning to do with it?” 
Slowly, you shifted to meet his gaze, your face a blank canvas of emotions. "Tom, I fail to see how it’s any of your business?” Tom felt his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He had always prided himself on being in control of his emotions, but you were testing his patience. “It is my business if you’re planning to cause harm to someone at this school. I won’t let that happen.”
You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his threat. “And what makes you think I would use it for harm?”
“Isn’t that the only reason to use the Cruciatus Curse?” Tom spat back.
“Maybe that’s what you think, but I see the Cruciatus Curse as a tool, and like any tool, it can be used for both good and bad. It’s all about the intention behind it.”, you replied. “I believe that it’s important to have a full understanding of all forms of magic, even the dark ones. It’s only by understanding them that we can learn how to defend ourselves against them, wouldn’t you agree?” 
Unbeknownst to him, all the watching he did over you made you become aware of his presence and allowed you to see a little show of your own. “Besides, you’re not the only one to have seen questionable behaviour. Aren’t I right, Mr. Parseltongue?” 
Tom’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his Parseltongue ability. It was something he had always kept secret, something that made him feel both powerful and isolated. He didn’t appreciate you bringing it up, especially not in this context. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through gritted teeth. 
This time you stepped closer to him, your scent intoxicating him. “Oh, don’t be so dismissive, Tom. I know about your special gift. It’s not every day that one encounters a Parseltongue.” 
His unwavering gaze bore into you, his face set in a rigid expression as he remained silent.
“Very well, Tom. But be warned, not everything is as it seems. You may find the knowledge you seek, but you may not like what you discover,” you say before turning on your heel and walking back to your common room for the night, leaving him to expend in his frustration.
Never before had anyone dared to speak to the young man who rules over Hogwarts with an iron fist in such a manner. With a venomous glint in his eye, he vowed to himself that it would be the first and last time that such insolence would be tolerated. He’ll make sure you learn the hard way that there were consequences for crossing him, and he relished the thought of watching you regret your words.
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v3nusxsky · 6 months
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114 and 34 🔥 with larissa? i don’t know how it works, i’m sorry it’s my first time here
Sweet girl 18+
*Authors note~ loving the use of the prompt list and a formal apology to anyone waiting for requests im still not in the swing of school yet*
Trigger warnings~ public sex edging mommy kink Praise kink degrading kink fingering oral teasing edging dom larissa sub r fem r punishment spanking
Prompt~ 114 and 34 🔥 with larissa? i don't know how it works, i'm sorry it's my first time here ✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ "Come in my love and lock the door dear. You'll be here for a while" the principal murmured to you as you entered the room just after the lunch bell. "Rissa, my love, i have class" you whispered hoping to avoid what was ultimately coming your way in the near future. "Now i know my little witch knows that mommy already checked her schedule. Are we trying to escape your well earned punishment?" Judging by the blondes raised eyebrow, you knew you'd added fuel to the fire, "No mommy, i was a brat" you confirmed hanging your head low in shame. "And now you're going to see what mommy dose to sluts who cant follow my rules, kneel" she demanded pointing to the side of her desk chair.
While you repeated the safe word's for her she worked on stripping you of your skirt, tights, and emerald lace underwear. "Good job, now you are getting five, so be good and it will stay that way, misbehave or miscount and we start again with two extra for every mess up, am i clear?" You tapped your index finger against her thigh to show you understood before feeling a hand rest on the small of your back to steady your frame on her lap. "One thank you mommy" you squealed and made sure you took a deep breath before the next strike. You do not want to disappoint the older woman anymore than you did to get yourself in this position. "Five mommy thank you!" you sobbed slightly gasping for some air as the sting began to subside. "Good job darling girl, now tell mommy how to fuck her girl. Rough or gentle?" she purred rubbing your back in a soothing manner. "Rough please mommy" you whimpered as she brought her fingers down to tease your soaked hole. "Hmmm later sweet girl, God I'd fuck you right here if i could, however you haven't earnt the privilege of mommy touching you like that have you love?"
"Please mommy let me earn it. Please! Ill do anything" you pleaded with the principal. That is where she brought out your remote controlled vibrator and instructed you to sit still and not fight her. if you could make it through her meeting she'd fuck you the way you love. Naturally you were ready to do anything to cum for her so she knew you'd let her insert thee toy, fix your skirt and conjure yourself some tights. the joys of dating a powerful witch. You took your place under her desk with her final warning ringing in your ears, "don't make too much noise, you don't wanna get caught now, do you?" The voice of the Mayor filled the room and you internally groaned, this was going to be one hell of a meeting because he talks entirely too much for your liking. it could also be down to his jealousy of Larissa choosing you, an outcast, a witch over little ole boring him. Thankfully for you, your wife also tires of the Mayor quickly and focused on subtly playing with your aching core until you were driven to insanity of being edged to high hell. A constant vibration was currently assaulting you swollen clit when you noticed your wife spreading her legs to reveal her cunt to you. immediately knowing what she wanted you to do you got to work eating her out like your life depended on it. the thrill of getting caught only adding to the fun as you flicked your tongue against her hard puffy clit as you thrusted two fingers into her warm heat and began to curl them just how your mommy had trained you to.
It's a blur really, one minute your lapping up her orgasm and the next she tugging you up from under the table and praising you for what a sweet slut you are and how well you did for her. You'd truly earnt your reward and she was going to make damn sure she spent all night, touching, kissing, sucking, biting your smooth skin as she brought you over the edge and overstimulated your poor pussy until you were nothing more than her dumbed down sweet little girl who had been properly fucked like her slutty heart deserved. There would be no surprise to Larissa if your magic reacted during this, it only happened during heightened emotions like this and you knew she would always listen to your body. Who needs to walk on a Saturday morning anyway?
word count~ 986
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christinarowie332 · 5 months
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Where words fail, music speaks.
chris sturniolo x reader .
guitar chris (kinda)
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warnings: suggestive . language . shortish
———
a small smile makes my way onto my face as i hear the muffled strum of guitar strings . my eyes flick away from my phone , squinting at the noise , trying to pick out the melody . a slower version , and slightly off key , but i know it anywhere . babydoll by dom fike . still stuck on that damn song chris ? i peel my body from the sofa , making my way down stairs to chris’s room . as i peek my head through the door , i’m happy to see chris playing the instrument i haven’t saw him with for years . i snap a video of him secretly, before his head lifts up , his tongue still poking out his mouth from concentration. i smile at him as he meets my eyes , a smile that is reciprocated ten folds by a teethy , tongue still out smile as he stops strumming .
“why’d you stop?” i say frowning and making my way into his room , slumping my body next to his on his bed . he angles his body towards mine and tucks one under the other , dropping the acoustic guitar to his lap.
“don’t do well with an audience” he replies, a smile still plastered on his soft features . he brings a hand to my face and tucks a stand of hair behind my ear , his cold and rough fingers from strumming making contact with my neck momentarily. making my breath hitch and sweat ball on my palms .
it was obvious to everybody but myself and chris , that our feelings were more then friendly. he was sweet , and attractive. he always thought of me first and always could read me like a book , he was funny , attentive , soft . it would be hard for any girl not to be head over heels for him . but i became friends with nick first .meeting matt then chris . already having a dynamic with two brothers would be awkward if i started dating the other , so i pushed the thought away. i blaimed my quickening heartbeat on anxiety , my need for his voice and small lingering touches on simple attachment. he was my friend . my closest , very attractive, friend .
“what made u start playing again?” i ask , tilting my head and allowing a small smile to grow onto my features . watching his face contort in thought , his lips puckering slightly as he bites the side of his cheek.
“not sure , found it in the garage and thought i’d see how much i remembered.” he answers shrugging his shoulders. “not much clearly” he adds matching my smile , a thin line as he huffs a laugh from his nose .
“hey! it sounded good chris , play it again. it’s babydoll right ?” i placed a hand to his knee as i spoke , leaning forward to get comfortable on his unmade bed , matching his stance with a leg tucked under the other . chris’s face softens slightly , his lips relax , letting his lips detach from one another as his smile grows , his teeth flashing as his perfect grin makes its way into his face . “who got you into dom huh?” he asks sarcastically, nodding his head upwards as his tongue rolls out his mouth, licking his upward turned bottom lip as he waits for my answer .
“just some kid , really annoying, kept forcing me to play it in my car so eventually i ended up with it stuck in my fucking head” i reply , matching his sarcasm rolling my eyes in dramatics . i feel my cheeks ache from how much i’m smiling. it feels like all i do around christopher is smile . it’s a constant i can always count on , happiness whenever i’m with him . a cold rush makes it’s way into my spine as the nostalgic thoughts of high school runs through my mind . late night drives , falling asleep on his shoulder on his parents sofa . waking up to a blanket draped over my body and a pillow substituted for the warm boy i fell into comforting slumber on .
“y/n?you okay?” im forced out of my thoughts by chris’s words , along with his fingers snapping in my face . i meet his worried face ,eyes never once leaving mine . i inhale a sharp breath and bring myself back into the room , smelling his shampoo and cologne as the cold air hits my nose . “yeah sorry just zoned out a little, stop changing the subject! play!”
he smiles and rolls his eyes at my words , allas bringing the guitar neck up to his chest , placing his fingers over the strings before strumming a chord with the other hand. my face scrunches up at the noise , i can hear what he’s trying to play but something sounds off . “gimme it” i say reaching out for the wooden object , he hands it me with confusion laced in his features . i place the guitar in my lap and grab a tuning peg between my fingers , moving it as i strum the string attached , listening for the right tone . there it is.
“youre playing it right , it was just out of tune chris” i look to him after i finish my sentence, finding his eyes already my face , on my lips . his eyes flick back up to mine as he notices i saw him staring , i gulp as i feel the tension growing slightly. “chris-“ i whisper before the guitar in my lap is moved to the side , the palm of his hand lightly grazing my cheek as his lips attach onto mine . allmost immediately i kiss him back , getting onto my knees and pushing my body onto his as his back meets the mattress. his hands push my hair behind my ears , the cold air kissing my neck at the removal of warmth . i disconnect the kiss to situate myself oh his lap , he leans forward and placing his hands on my back pulling me back into him to reattach our lips again .
my back arches as my body lifts from his lap , the kiss growing heavy with want . no .need . he obviously feels it too as his tongue roams my mouth relentlessly , and his hands following suit , trailing my body hungrily. he finds a place for them on my hips , gripping them as they’re lifted with my moving , my body aching for closeness .
this is a new side of each other neither of us want to forget . and never will
———
the ex music student in me wrote this .
bye .
———
taglist:
@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444 @kenzieiskoolaid @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @mattenthusiast @iheart2021chris @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @paper-crab @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l @oversturn @freshlovehacker @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxr @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @lustfulslxt @littlebookworm803
————
i love you all sm 🤍
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hannahssimblr · 1 month
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Night descends upon us and yet, as usual, the stars don’t shine brightly the way that they did last summer when our bonfire roared under clear, sparkling skies. I think of that night now as I sit on a patch of cool earth in the dunes above Dollymount Strand surrounded by rusting cans and the sun-bleached wrappers of discontinued chocolate bars.
I remember the balmy air of late July, how I didn't even heed it until now when the night is still too cold to sit out in yet we all pretend it isn't. Anyway, it’s too late to point it out to the crowd that's already gathered here, drinking and playing music from a speaker that crackles every time the bass gets too loud, so I sit as close as I can to the flames without climbing into the pit with them, and let their heat lick over my skin. 
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I share a few beers with a big, severe looking boy next to me for a while. He's got silver spikes protruding from his lip, and high cheek bones that make his face look kind of gaunt and hollow like a Tim Burtonesque character. We called him Lurch at school, because he’s also about six foot five and rake thin, but tonight I learn that Lurch’s real name is Rob, and actually, Rob is a very nice person.
He talks to me about music for ages, about his drum kit and how the neighbours keep complaining to his parents about the noise. I tell him that I’ve always wished I was musical but I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I’m kind of a loser like that, despite my dreams of being that guy with the guitar who impresses all the girls, but I have long since accepted that I will settle to be a humble music-recommender instead. Jen still keeps all of the silly mix tape CDs I made for her in primary school in her room, and it gives me an inexplicable sense of worthiness whenever I spot them.
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Never once during my conversation with Rob do I tell him about the Lurch thing, though it crosses my mind several times. What seemed so funny once in the confines of my little group seems kind of obviously mean now, but I suppose I never took the time to think about it before.
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Katie is nice too, the girl with a stammer who snorts when she laughs, which is often once she joins in our conversation, because she seems to think my stories are very funny, as does Rob, and I have to tell them not to laugh so hard because it only encourages me to put myself in more situations that might be entertaining to retell later on. They think that's funny too, but actually, I am being serious.
Still, I know they’ll love that one about the time I was using the desert as a toilet and a military helicopter flew overhead, convincing me that my great aunt’s busybody neighbour had called the FBI to report me for public urination, so I make sure to tell it in the most energetic way I can. It’s easier and way more fun to reveal embarrassing things about myself when I’m drinking, and by the time I have finished telling it, I toss my empty bottle to my feet where four others already lie. I hadn’t even realised I had drunk that much, but who cares when I feel this good.
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“Jesus, you’re so funny,” Katie says once her giggles have subsided, “I can’t believe we all thought you were an arsehole.”
“You thought that?”
“Not really,” Rob assures me, “We just thought you were… like, a bit…”
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“...of an arsehole,” I finish, and he’s clearly being polite so he denies it, but he shouldn’t bother, really, because I already know how I am. I'm aware of the things I’ve said and done to other kids for the sake of relieving my crushing, constant boredom, never really thinking about the consequences beyond ‘it will be funny’. Maybe I should say I’m sorry. 
“Nah you’re right, I’m kind of a horrible bastard,” and I laugh at myself, which gives them permission to do so too, albeit awkwardly.
“You’re not, you’re not,” Rob assures me, “You definitely weren’t the worst of the guys in our year…”
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I want to ask him who is the worst, purely for the satisfaction of hearing him say that it’s Fitzy, or Murphy or Breener or any of those other awful, rugby wanks, but I don’t because someone coming through the grass has derailed my train of thought. 
“What’s she doing here?” 
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I have interrupted Rob and now he’s blinking in surprise as he turns to where Leah, fucking Leah, is approaching us. 
“Uh, she comes to talk to Evan sometimes,” he explains, “just for like, a few minutes usually and then she heads off. Do you know her?”
“Yeah.”
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I watch with a clenched jaw as she and Evan disappear into the darkness for a few minutes, and pop open a brand new beer bottle as Rob and Katie chat as I sit between them having lost all of my sense of fun in an instant. I’m also drunk, if not very much getting there judging by the slightly blurry flames that dance exotically in front of my eyes. I have a dim thought that it’s probably a good idea to stop drinking if I plan on seeing Jen later. I doubt Michelle’s parents will be too pleased if I show up steaming drunk at their door…
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“Oh my God, Jude, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Leah is back and standing right over me. I don’t even bother to look up at her face, and instead just stare at her ratty Vans that I’m almost certain are the same pair she wore when we used to hang out two years ago, and they were ratty back then.
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“Yep,” I say. She sits down so closely to me in the sand that I can smell her distinct, Leah smell. She doesn’t smell bad, just like an unpleasant sensory memory. 
“How are you?”
I clear my throat, “Are you buying drugs from teenagers now? Is that what it’s come to?”
“Oh, I thought you already knew how Evan and I knew each other.”
“No.”
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“Well, mister policeman, it’s just weed,” she pulls the baggie I saw earlier out of her jacket pocket, “We can even smoke some together now if you like.”
“Weed makes me sick.”
“I remember that! Ha!” She offers it to Rob and Katie who both decline and exchange alarmed looks over our heads.
“Are you going to sit here all night?” I ask her, and even to my own ears it’s unbelievable how rude I am to her, but I don’t care, she deserves it, and it’s not like she even seems to register my tone anyway, she’s always been completely oblivious to what people think about her. She’s that person who hangs around at the party for way too long and keeps bringing up conversations that everyone stopped talking about ages ago. 
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“Jude and I go way back,” Leah explains to Katie beside her, “I met him when he was, what,” a nudge to my arm, “thirteen?”
“Twelve.”
“We used to be friends, back when he was fun.”
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I scowl and she drapes herself over my shoulder with an effortless laugh as though she somehow believes this is our usual banter, “I’m joking, he’s still so fun! And cute!” She tries to grab my face and I shake her off insistently so she settles for fisting a hand in the front of my sweatshirt to hold me hostage instead, “Isn’t he, though?” she presses poor, sheepish Katie who explodes in a ferocious blush. “Would you say he’s the cutest boy at school?”
“I- I don’t know,” Katie stutters. 
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“Well guess what! I got to be the lucky girl who took his virginity!”
I rip her off me but she comes back at me with more grabbing hands and tickling fingers, “Ooh! It’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t it Judie? Oh, isn’t it?”
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I wrench her off me with finality and clamber to my feet, my heart beating, my stomach queasy, “Leave me alone, okay?” I bend down to swipe my beer bottle out of the hollow I made for it in the sand and even then she tries to touch my hair. It infuriates me. “I’m serious! Piss off!” I spit.
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“Oh God, mister grumpy!” She says as I stagger around the bonfire to get away from her and everything that she represents. I’m definitely drunk now, it's in my sluggish movements, the way my eyes drift unfocussed from person to person, but being drunk is preferable to remembering Leah as vividly as I would if I were perfectly sober. Right now, it is just snippets of an evening three years ago that play through my mind. The week I turned fourteen, and the hard, frozen November ground by a swing set. The things I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to do but thought knew I should by then, and Leah, and the heat of her skin, the smell of her sweat, the hyper fixation I had on that piece of bark mulch I felt tangled in her hair which somehow became the strongest memory of all, something that I still associate with her when I feel the sharp dig of something in my palm.
When I don't see her I don't think of these things, so I circle the bonfire until she is invisible, obscured by the roaring flames and swallowed by the darkness.
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trashbag-baby666 · 23 days
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Pilot-Firehouse au
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Summary: There’s a new probie at Casper fd, Gale is one step closer to finding out who Rosies been going on dates with, welcome to the madness.
WC: 3,385
C/W: None!
au masterlist!
MOTA Masterlist!
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John skipped through the fire department a pink box of donuts in his hand. Most people would probably ask what’s got you in a good mood? But no one batted an eye at John, because this is just how he carries himself all the time, aspiring to put a smile on all his crew's faces. Today it would be with donuts tomorrow it might be dad jokes.
“Morning, Bucky.” Curt wiped his hands on his pants and took the powdered sugar donut out of the box, “Chicks got a probie in the office. Told me to send you in when you got here.”
“Sounds good,” John nods, heading up the metal, red steps and going into Chicks office. A brown haired man sitting on the opposite side of Chick, his eyes wide with excitement. Fresh out of the academy and ready for some real action.
“Morning chief, donut?” John held the box out.
“Yes please, thank you, Captain. John, this is Captain Egan. One of the finest firefighters CFD has ever seen.”
“We’ve got another John?” He raised an eyebrow leaning over slightly to see the file on Chicks desk, “John Brady, how do you like Brady?”
“I…uh.”
“Come on, Brady, wouldn’t wanna be late for the morning stretch circle.” John called, bouncing down the steps, Brady scattering after him, “Guys this is our new probie, Brady.”
“Fresh blood, huh?” Dougie leaned on the fire truck
“This is Dougie and…” John looked around for a moment, “Where’s your Missus?”
“I ain’t anyone's missus,” the lengthy blonde came from around the front of the truck, eyeing up Brady.
“And this is Howard but everyone calls him Hambone, maple long john for you.” John plucked the donut out of the box and handed it to the blonde, “I’m putting Brady with you guys today, so please be nice to him…Brady, good luck with the hazing.”
“You’re ours now, pretty boy.” Dougie put a strong hand onto his shoulder, shaking him lightly.
“Come on stretch time, boys.” Curt clasped his hands together grabbing the attention of everyone, quickly being overshadowed by the loud siren that began to ring, “Nevermind.”
“Suit up, Brady!” John clapped him on the back, offering a small crack of a smile.
—---------
Gale’s all too familiar with the sounds of too many voices all at once on top of the constant voices on the intercom paging doctors, the occasional groan, the clacking on keyboards. The sound of the Casper, Wyoming ER became nothing but white noise for him, “good morning, doctor.” Rosie stood against the counter in the breakroom. His words okayest doctor thermos in hand, a small smile on his lips.
“Morning, doctor.” Gale opened his locker, “How’re you this morning?”
“Doing just fine.”
“So I take it the date went well?”
“Oh, how did it go?” Croz pushed open the break room door, his stuffed to the brim tote bag over his shoulder eyebrows wide with curiosity.
“It was fine guys, but I don’t kiss and tell.” Rosie put his hands up in defense. Croz and Gale had been trying to crack the code into Rosies love life since late med school when they met Croz during their residencies. But he kept it a secret from them and wasn’t budging still.
“You’re no fun, Rosie, who else are me and Gale supposed to gossip about?”
“Linda from HR. No, I’m kidding, gossip about me wouldn’t be very much fun anyways, but he did meet Freddie last night.” Rosie glanced at the two of them as he walked towards the door.
“Oooooh,” Gale snickered, getting to meet Freddy was a big deal. Rosie didn’t let just anyone meet his elderly deaf cat with separation anxiety.
“Sorry I gotta get back to it,” Rosie put his hand on the door handle shooting them a wink.
“I’m glad he’s found a guy, this was their…fourth date I think he mentioned the other day?” Gale and Rosie had met their freshman year of college since they were roommates. Then they just never separated and lived together all the way up until John asked Gale to move in with him.
“Me too,” Croz sighed, putting his bag away, “How was Delia’s game yesterday?”
“Great! She almost had a home run, but they did win, six to five!”
“Sorry, we couldn’t make it, Junie got sent home from the day camp yesterday with a fever.” Gale knew Croz and his husband Bubbles kept very busy with their four kids.
Hell, Gale only had two kids and they kept very busy.
“That’s alright, how high was the fever?”
“Hundred and one I think she sweated it out last night. She was drippin’ this morning when I woke her up.”
“Hopefully it passes fast. It makes me so sad when the girls are sick.”
“Me too, hopefully we can contain her germs to herself and we don’t have a house outbreak.��� Croz rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The last thing any of them needed was a Crosby family sick outbreak that could possibly spread.
———————
Brady squeezed the excess water out of the sponge and back into the bucket of soapy water. Pressing the sponge back into the truck. After the call John had asked Ham, Dougie, and himself to wash the truck. But the other two had long since abandoned ship , leaving him by himself.
“Dougie and Ham ditch you?”
“Jesus,” Brady put a hand out on the truck turning to see John with that same smirk from earlier on his face. Bending down he grabbed the other sponge out of the bucket.
“Curt used to do the same shit to me. I promise they’ll like you, they do this to everyone.”
“How long did Curt, y’know…? Harass you for being the new guy?” Brady scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.
“Oh I don’t know, I think a good month, till I saved his ass from a burning building.”
“Oh.”
“How old are you, kid?”
“Twenty four, sir.”
“Well you’re aging me specially with the sir, no need for this sir and captain bullshit. Just call me Bucky, everyone else does.”
“Okay, capt…Bucky.” A moment of silence passed between the two of them. Brady just hoped he was doing everything right like he had been taught in the academy.
“Got a special someone in your life?”
“Oh, uh, no. I haven’t met the right one yet…there weren't a lot of options in Sundance. Thought I’d have a better shot since I play for both teams.” Brady chuckled dryly hoping he wouldn’t be ostracized for his sexuality here.
“Amen to that one! I thought I’d be single for the rest of my life, till I met my husband.”
“How long have you guys been married?”
“We actually just celebrated our tenth anniversary last week.” John snickered.
“Well congratulations, do you have any kids?”
“Yeah, we’ve got two girls. My oldest will be 13 next week and our youngest is seven.”
Brady felt a hole of anxiety in his chest begin to fill itself back in knowing there was at least another lgbt member in the firehouse. He kept it to himself at first in the academy, he didn’t want a stigma to follow him.
Brady picked his head up at the sound of a dog barking, meeting the sight of a white and light gray husky in a service dog vest dashing towards John. “Oh hello there, Meatball!” John scratched the husky behind his ear, “This is Meatball, the hundredths mascot and staple.”
“Is this the new probie?”
“Yep,” John clasped a hand on Brady’s shoulder squeezing gently, “Brady, this is our driver engineer Benny Demarco, he’s Meatball's other half.”
“I’m not married to him, I promise.”
“Did you look into the tax benefits for it?” John asked, tilting his head and putting his hands on his hips.
“Nice meeting you, Brady.” He held out his hand for him to shake.
“Nice meeting you, I look forward to working with you.” Brady shook his hand, his grip tight and firm.
“Come on Meatball,” Demarco headed up the steps to Chicks office, the husky behind him.
“So,”
“Hm?” Brady’s eyebrow raised.
“Me and Benny are good friends, but he won’t tell us a thing about this person he’s seeing. If you can figure anything out let me and Curtie know.” John squeezed Brady’s shoulder again delivering a small shake.
So John is chronically nosy?
———————————
“Fancy seeing you here, we gotta stop running into each other like this.” Curt leaned against the open door of the ambulance.
“Hey, Curtie.” Ken looked up from where he was writing down his report, “Did you ask Bucky if we're still coming over for dinner?”
“Yes we are.”
“Awesome, I felt bad we had to leave right after the game.” Ken set his clipboard down standing up taking Curt’s hand then jumping out of the back of the ambulance.
“Yeah, the girls were all excited. I'm bringing them popsicles to Friday's practice, today we gotta lock in on fielding.” Ken smiled while watching Curt talk with his hands. He loved getting to coach Cordelia’s rec league softball team. Curt also stayed busy playing on the firehouses softball league Bucky coached. He didn’t play anymore only because he tore his ACL a few years back.
“I know I was so proud of them! You tell them I said that.” Ken placed his hand on Curt’s chest, “You’ve been working out?”
“Sure have sugar,” Curt pulled him in by the belt loops. He could stare at Curt all day and make this his full time job. Curt moved in with Ken a couple months ago and things had been going pretty well.
“Curt, what are you doing?” John furrowed his eyebrows coming around the truck.
“I was just saying hello to the wife,” Curt kissed Ken’s cheek, “See you at home, Kenny.”
“Bye Curtie, bye John.” Ken waved and shut the back doors of the ambulance.
“I saw you and Buck making out against one of the trucks the other day. So you got nothin’ on me, Johnny.” Curt shook his head walking after him.
“You know too much about me for me to become an enemy of Curtis Biddick. I was just coming to tell you we were leaving.”
It was true, when John dropped out of college halfway through his second year. He got in his car and started driving. He got to the Wisconsin/Minnesota border and decided to just keep going. Drove all the way to Casper, Wyoming in two days, decided to stop for a drink and then never looked back.
“I don’t want you as an enemy,” Curt shrugged his jacket back on as they got back to the truck.
“Good, because then I would have to kill you.” The two of them climbed back in the truck, “How’re you liking it, Brady?”
“I like it sir- uh, Bucky.” He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together looking down.
“Loosen up kid, I’m glad you like it.” John sat across from him.
“You’ve been doin’ a just fine job. I know you’ll fit right in.” Curt had seen a dozen or so of guys through their probie phases at the firehouse. He did in fact haze John after he convinced him to join the academy. John and Curt both saw Dougie and Ham through their probie period together. Brady seemed like a good kid and determined to become the best firefighter he can be.
————————
Gale: I’m on lunch, just thought I’d check in if you or Flynn needed anything from the store. If you make anything please clean it up so I don’t have to clean before making dinner. 🤗🤗
Cordelia: ok
Gale sighed, setting his phone back on the breakroom table stabbing a crispy piece of lettuce out of his salad. “I don’t like this tweenage thing.”
“Delia?” Rosie hummed through his bite of sandwich
“Yeah the other day she looked at me like I killed her cats because I asked her to help me pick up dinner.” Gale rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and John both had been coming to terms that Cordelia did not in fact hate them. She just wasn’t their little girl anymore and wanted more independence and they could respect that.
“Has the attitude started yet?” Croz could probably offer the best advice out of any of them. Their oldest was a couple years older than Cordelia, “The first time Astrid actually raised their voice at us we were so distraught.”
“A little bit,” Gale sat back in his seat rubbing at the gold band on his finger, “I’m beginning to think about bringing back timeouts for her too.”
“Sometimes it’s better to let them cool off in their room. I remember this age, hormones flying, your body changing, everything seems like the biggest deal of your life.” Croz definitely had the most confidence in his parenting out of the group. But I guess you do probably have to carry confidence with your words when you have four kids to wrangle around.
“I told my parents to shut up one time at that age…it did not go over well.” Gale could imagine a younger Rosie telling that to Mama Rosenthal. Followed by her most certainly chewing him out in Yiddish and sending him to his room.
It’s not that Gale is insecure about his parenting, it's that he doesn’t want to be like his father. He wasn’t like his father at all. It’s the one thing Gale brought up when they first talked about kids, “John, what if I turn into him?” “That’s not going to happen. You’re nothing like him, Gale.” John was right, Gale wasn’t his father. The apple didn’t even fall from that tree.
“It’s at least a little nice to hear that this is at least some right of passage event.” Gale cleared his throat. He didn’t really get a chance to have that, he grew up at far too young of an age. He had spent his entire childhood taking care of his father and avoiding the swinging hands that came at him. The rundown apartment in northern Casper, the cigarette burned couch with the cans and bottles littering any surface available. He knew his only way out and he took it and ran.
Now he had his own family, he had his firehouse family from John's side and he had Rosie and Croz from his side. He had to remind himself, he in fact is doing better than he ever thought he would.
————————
There’s a lot of things that are staples in the Cleven household. but the one that never missed was the barking every time someone was at the door. Scooby would jump up his loud howl carrying alerting Chili that maybe he needs to start barking too; although, his didn’t carry the same way Scoobys did.
“Guys!” Gale scolded the dogs from the kitchen.
“It’s us,” Ken sang as they came inside toeing off his shoes. His prized Apple pie in his hands, Curt not far behind him, “Hi Scooby.”
“Uncle Curt!” Flynn came flying out of the kitchen and jumped into his arms.
“Hey, Flynn.” Curt spun her around, “How was your ball game?”
“Good! I got a couple good hits! Papa said we could practice tomorrow.” Flynn quite literally fell from the John Egan tree though. Not only did she have the same blue eyes and dark brown curls but the same sass and humor. Oh yeah, and the lifelong passion for baseball but ‘specifically the yankees’.
“I’ll see if I have time to stop over and I can toss you some balls. Sounds good?”
“Yes! You’re the best Curt.” Flynn wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.
“No you’re the best, Flynn. Why don’t we go help your dads set the table?”
Flynn nodded, Curt setting her down and she took off for the dining room attached to the kitchen.
“Delia, why don’t you take Ken with you to grab some drinks.” Gale nudged her from across the kitchen island.
“Okay,” she rolled her eyes with that sharp tone in her voice.
“I don’t like that attitude,” John popped his hip out resting his hands on his hips.
“I don’t like your attitude, Pa.”
Gale looked between the two of them having their nightly ‘drama queen competition’ as Flynn called it. Cordelia let out an irritated grunt stomping to the connecting door to the garage.
“Teenagers are fun,” Curt snickered.
Ken sat on the steps next to the fridge in the garage while Cordelia dug out the last can of Arnold Palmers for Curt.
“Is everything going alright, hun?”
“Yeah, it’s just, everything feels like…I don’t even know.” She handed the can of tea to Ken and shut the fridge door sitting back on her knees.
“That’s part of growing up, unfortunately. Do you wanna talk about anything?” At those words Cordelia looked down at her hands bashfully, a small smirk that resembled Gales following.
“Well, okay but you can’t tell dad and Pa.”
“Deal,” Ken rested his head in his hands.
“There’s this girl on my team, her name is Mel.”
“Does Curt know?” Ken interrupted her momentarily.
“No, we just started talking last week. She’s staying over with some of my other friends on Saturday.”
“I hope you have fun. But make good decisions,” Ken picked up the drinks off the steps next to him.
“Don’t worry, we haven’t even held hands yet. I can’t tell if pa would be upset that I’m dating or start crying?”
Ken let out a small chuckle, there's a good chance both could happen. Curt told him that when Cordelia had taken her first steps John broke down crying. He also cried when she turned one, he wasn’t ready for his little girl to be in such a rush to grow up still.
—-----------
John let out a loud yawn stretching his arms above his head, his shirt coming up just slightly. Gale leaned over, poking his stomach softly sending John into a loud laugh falling onto the bed right on top of Gale. “Did you have a good day at work?” Gale felt his cheeks heat red him and John were nose to nose.
“Yeah, we have a new probie at the station. Seems like a good kid. How about yours, Doctor Cleven ” John smiled because he knew exactly how to get Gale all flustered.
“Well, Captain Egan, I did have a good day. Today I found out Rosie went on a fourth date with that guy and he brought him to his apartment and let him meet Freddie.” He was pleased with himself that John's cheeks were now flush and he looked down slightly, just from calling him captain.
“Ooooh, do you know his name?.” John rolled off of him climbing under the blankets. He loved some good, who's dating who gossip? Someday he could be just as bad as Cordelia.
“No, that’s all he’s told us. We should find a time to go out and tell Rosie to bring him.”
“Good god, Buck. You’re just as bad as me and Delia!” Wrapping his arms around Gale he pulled him into his chest.
“Exposure therapy,” Buck giggles, turning his head to meet John's sparkly eyes. They laid there for a moment just basking in the energy of an amazing sixteen years together.
“Can you believe we’ve been married for ten years?” John rested his chin on Gale's shoulder, “Together for 16.”
“I know it’s gone so fast.” Gale tangled his hands into John’s pressing his back into John’s warmth.
“Next thing we know it’s going to be our 60th anniversary and Delia and Flynn are going to put us in a home.”
“Don't remind me,” Gale sighed, tipping his head back against John.
“At least we’re a long way from retirement?” John kissed Gales neck, truthfully he’d work forever if that’s what it took to keep this little life. He couldn’t imagine anything better than this, he was married to the absolute love of his life, “Well, maybe we should use my sexy firefighter body to our advantage.”
Gale mentally rolled his eyes with a smile on his face, John’s cheesy flirting never getting old. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
——————
Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs highly appreciated! <3
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accidentally deleted this post so now I have to make it again, I’m sorry.
For all Danny could remember, everything has been about the portal. 
He missed his class recorder concert. He was supposed to have a solo, his parents were busy with the portal. He buried the stray cat he had been taking care of alone. Jazz was at a friend’s house, his parents were busy with the portal. He had to walk to the elementary school for his elementary graduation. Only Jazz showed up, his parents were busy with the portal. He ran away, got lost, and was picked up by Tucker’s mom. She was the only one who’d pick up the phone, his parents were busy with the portal. He saved up and sold almost all his collectables so he could go to space camp. He never got to go, his parents were busy with the portal. 
It was always a constant in his life, but now, that constant was gone. The portal was finished, and it didn’t work. 
He guessed he should be happy. He’d tried multiple times before to destroy the thing, but he’d always been either too small and weak to do any real damage, or got cold feet and chickened out at the last minute. But now that it was actually broken he wished it wasn’t. 
It was much better barely ever seeing his parents, but them being happy when he did see them, than seeing them miserable. 
The portal was important to them, they had spent most of their lives on it, they cared about it more than anything else in the world, and it didn’t work. 
And maybe it was his fault. 
He lay in bed staring at the glow in the dark star stickers plastered across his ceiling. It had been a long day, and an even longer night. He had plans to have Sam and Tucker over tomorrow, but he’d probably have to cancel. He really didn’t want them to see him like this. 
It was 1:30 in the morning, his parents had left three hours after the portal failed, he didn’t know where they were, they hadn’t told them. Jazz had left an hour later to spend the night at Spike’s house. This left him all alone. This would usually be nice. No sounds of tinkering in the lab, no mumbles coming from Jazz in the next room reading whatever book she was currently obsessed with, perfect conditions for a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t sleep. 
He had just been lying there for hours, the only noise in the house being a faint electrical buzzing that he wasn’t even sure was real. The only thing he could think of was the portal. What if it had all been his fault. 
He had tried to destroy it, what if he had succeeded?
He lifted his blanket up and off of him and stood up. He walked through the hallway and down the stairs, careful not to step on any of the squeaky steps, despite the lack of anyone else in the house. He leapt over the small uncovered part of the hardwood floor, ran on his toes across the carpet of the living room over to the basement steps, then froze. 
What if he had destroyed what his parents loved most? 
He almost didn’t want to know. Almost wanted to run back upstairs, get back under the covers, and not tell anyone. Ever. 
But he needed to know. He needed proof that it wasn’t him. He needed something else to be the reason. He couldn’t live with himself if it was his fault. 
He stepped down the stairs to the lab. The concrete floor was cold, he walked on his tiptoes to avoid it. He walked past scrap metal and wires haphazardly thrown across the floor. His mom did that. She was angry and had almost ripped apart everything on the tables. He walked past a large dent in the wall. His dad did that. It was terrifying. He had never seen his dad hit something before. 
He ripped his attention away from the chaos of the room and focused it on the portal. It seemed almost menacing. Cold metal gleaming in the dim light, almost like a blade. He walked closer to it. He had cut a few wires inside it last month in a desperate attempt for some attention, he couldn’t see them from here, he’d have to get closer. 
He ran over to the jumpsuit rack and grabbed his. He carefully put it on over his shorts and t-shirt and ripped a sticker of his dad’s face off the front. His dad had probably added the sticker recently, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He was honestly surprised it still fit, he hadn’t worn it since the seventh grade, but it had been a bit baggy then. 
He crept closer to the portal and examined the outside. Everything there seemed to be in order, then took a deep breath, and went in. 
It was dark. Not too dark he couldn’t see clearly, but it would get darker the further he got. He couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding in on something he shouldn’t. This wasn’t his place, he didn’t belong, but he needed to know. He got to the middle of the portal and stopped. There was a large panel missing. His mom said that it wasn’t needed, they could put it on later after they tested it out. There were tons of wires, he put his gloved hand in and moved them around, looking for the wire he had cut. 
Maybe it wasn’t even in this area. Maybe they had fixed it, maybe they had seen the wire and replaced it, but he had to be sure. 
Suddenly he saw it, the cut wire. He could fix this. He just needed to fix this. 
He ran out of the portal and opened every drawer and cabinet he could find until he found some duct tape. He just had to tape the wire back together and everything would be fixed. His parents would be happy. He ripped a large piece of the tape off with his teeth, ran back into the portal and found the wire again. He reached down to the bottom of the hole in the portal wall and searched until he found the other side of the wire. 
He could fix this, he could be helpful to his parents for once and make them happy. And once he told them how he fixed it they’d love him so much for it. 
He quickly put the tape on one end of the wire, added the other end, and wrapped it around. Now he just had to plug it in. 
The end of the tunnel started to light up, everything around him started to crackle with electricity, a dull whirring noise kept getting louder and louder, and something in his head screamed at him to run. 
The portal had never been unplugged. 
He dropped the wire and ran towards the opening, he was almost there, he was going to make it. But then the green light turned blinding, all he could feel was pain. He screamed, and everything stopped.
The first thing that came back was his hearing. He could hear a faint electrical buzzing, like the sound of a dying lightbulb, or LED lights. Faint enough that most people wouldn’t notice it, but present enough that it was inescapable. There was also this deep rumbling hum. The closest thing he could compare it to would be the noise whales make, but that wasn’t quite it.
Then taste and smell came back. His mouth tasted different somehow, like the aftertaste of lemonade, or maybe one of those cherry limeade sodas. But metallic, like he had licked a battery. His surroundings also had that same citrusy metallic smell. 
Then his feeling came back. His body ached with pain, but somehow it felt as if it was both there and not at the same time. His face was pressed against a cold, hard, rough, surface. He tried to move, but it was like he was paralyzed. A strange crackling filled the air, it felt like the static electricity he used to make by rubbing his stuffed animals against his hair, blankets and pajamas just to see the sparks. He used to think that he was generating more electricity for the house when he did that. 
Then came sight. He went from seeing nothing, to seeing black. Every so often a green light pulsed behind his eyelids. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what it could be. Then slowly, he regained the ability to move. 
At first he could only move his eyelids and fingers. The only thing he could see was the concrete floor lit by a faint green glow, but not long after, he was able to shakily lift himself up onto his knees. He looked around, he was in the lab. He remembered, the portal hadn’t worked. He had gone down to fix it and, he turned his head around for the first time since he had woken up to face the swirling green vortex. It had turned on. He had fixed it. He had been helpful. 
He quickly scrambled to his feet to walk over to it. It was working, just like it was supposed to from the start. He had fixed everything. His parents would be so happy, everything was better now, everything was-
He looked down to the floor. There was an arm poking out of the portal, it looked like his arm, but that wasn’t possible, he was right here. 
He looked down at his arm. It was different than he remembered. His glove was white, and the suit was black. He remembers it being the other way around. He looked down, his boots were also white, why were they white? Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. 
He looked back to the arm poking out of the portal. Something was telling him to leave it alone, to pretend it didn’t exist, but he needed to know what was going on. He knelt down on the floor, grabbed the wrist, pulled, and immediately dropped it and scrambled away when a charred face emerged from the portal. It was a corpse, there was a corpse in his parents’ lab wearing Fenton gear. He wanted to throw up, but there wasn’t anything in his stomach. 
Why was there a dead body here? Did his parents kill someone and leave their body in the portal? No that wouldn’t make sense, he had been in the portal and he hadn’t seen it. 
He had been in the portal. And that was his hazmat suit. 
He slowly walked towards the portal, trying not to directly look at the charred flaking skin of the corpse’s face, and hesitantly grabbed its wrist again to pull it completely out of the portal. 
It was the same size as him. Same suit, same boots, it was him, but if that was him, who was he?
He hesitantly walked over to the lab bathroom and tried to turn on the lights, but they didn’t work. The power must be out, but somehow he could see without them. He turned to look in the mirror and froze. It was his face, it was unmistakably his face, but it was different. His hair was white, his skin was purple, his eyes and freckles were glowing green, the same green as the portal. And he had fangs. He looked like a monster, like one of those ghosts his parents would tell stories about. 
A ghost. He was dead, wasn’t he?
He couldn’t be a ghost, his parents hated ghosts. If they found out they’d destroy him, or worse, cut him open on an examination table. 
He had to leave. He could just pretend that he hadn’t come back, he was dead and that was the end of it. He couldn’t let anyone know. 
But if Jazz found out he was dead she’d be heartbroken. She’d blame herself. 
He hesitantly walked back over to the body, trying desperately to not look at its open unseeing eyes. He needed to get rid of it. He couldn’t bury it in the yard, they’d find it, and the woods were too far away. He didn’t want to drag this thing around town just to hide it, people would see. He didn't even want to have to drag it out of the lab. Just the thought of touching it again made his skin crawl. 
But what if he didn’t have to move it out of the lab. It was already right in front of the perfect hiding spot, all he needed to do was push it back in. He grabbed a broom from the corner of the room and used it to push the corpse back in. Slowly, bit by bit, the body disappeared. Suddenly, the force he was pushing against vanished completely, like it had fallen off of a ledge. 
He dropped the broom, and walked up the stairs, trudged across the living room carpet, hesitated before walking across the uncarpeted hardwood floor, and pulled himself up the stairs. He entered his room, grabbed a few essentials, stuffed them in the big duffel bag he kept under his bed, put his phone in his pocket, and walked back downstairs. 
His mind was blank as he left through the front door, he didn’t think about where he was going, he just went. After a while he found himself at Tucker’s house. He didn’t mean to come here. He debated on whether or not to talk to him, but decided against it. He didn’t want one of his best friends to see him like this. He looked like a monster. 
He kept walking until he reached the forest near the edge of town. He decided to take a break from walking and sit down. What would everyone think when they came home and he wasn’t there? Who would notice first? Would they try to call him? Would they look for him? Would he ever be able to see them again? He wanted to talk to them, he wanted to see them, he didn’t want to leave. 
He pulled out his phone and dialed his dad’s number. His mom almost never had her phone on her, but his Dad always did. It rang five times before it went to voicemail. His breathing became uneven. He hung up, and dialed again, it rang five more times before it went to voicemail. He was starting to shake now, why was he shaking? He hung up and dialed again. It went straight to voicemail. His Dad didn’t want to talk to him. Did he do something wrong? Was he angry with him? 
He dialed his mom’s number, just in case she had her phone on her, it rang five times before going to voicemail. He hung up and dialed again, it went to voicemail after three rings.
She had declined the call. She hadn’t just turned off the phone, she saw he was calling her and declined it. 
Why weren’t they picking up? Had they figured out what he had done? Did they know about the cut wire? Did they hate him for it?
But he had fixed it, he had been helpful, if they would just pick up the phone, he could tell them, and they’d be happy. 
He dialed his mom’s number again. It rang and went to voicemail. He dialed again. It rang and went to voicemail. He dialed again. It went straight to voicemail. She had shut off her phone. 
They didn’t want to hear from him. He couldn’t tell them, he couldn’t fix it. 
Drops of glowing green liquid fell onto his phone and hands. He reached a hand up to feel his face, he was crying. He didn’t know what else to do. He needed to talk to his parents, he needed to hear their voices one last time, he needed-
Jazz! Jazz always picked up the phone. She wouldn’t ignore him. He shakily dialed Jazz’s number and held the phone up to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times, four, five, then went to voicemail. He hung up. 
His breathing started to hitch, his eyes watered up more than they had in years. He started to hiccup out sobs. He dropped his phone and covered his mouth to try and stop it, he tried to stop it but he couldn’t. 
His phone rang. 
He scrambled to pick up the phone and answered it before looking at the caller id. 
“Danny, what’s going on, are you okay? Sorry, I was asleep when the phone started ringing, and then it took me a bit to find it.”
He didn’t answer, the sobs were getting in the way. 
“Danny? Are you okay?” 
She sounded really worried.
He forced his voice to work. “Jazz, I fixed it.”
“What? Danny, what did you fix, what’s going on?”
He took a deep breath to calm his voice. “Please, Tell Mom and Dad that I fixed it, they don’t have to be angry at me anymore.”
There was a pause, like Jazz was trying to think of what to say. After a few seconds, she spoke, voice calm and soothing. “Danny, Mom and Dad aren’t angry at you, they’re just upset because the portal-”
“I was the reason it didn’t work, Jazz! I cut the wire, I ruined it, but it’s fixed now. Please don’t be angry at me.” His voice broke halfway through his exclamation. 
Another pause. “Danny, I’m coming home right now.”
He started to panic, she couldn’t go home, she’d hang up once she started driving, she always did. “No, you don’t have to-”
“Yes I do.” She cut him off. “You’re obviously distressed and need help, I’m in the car right now, I’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Please don’t hang up.” He blurted out. 
“Why?”
“I,” He thought for an excuse before just deciding to tell the truth. “I just want to talk to you.”
A pause, shorter than the others. “Okay.”
“What did you do at Spike’s house?”
If she heard the waver in his voice, she didn’t mention it. “We watched Legally Blonde and ate popcorn.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, it was. Spike almost choked on a twizzler, I had to do the Heimlich maneuver on them.”
He sat there listening to every little insignificant detail like it was the most important thing in the world. How the movie was, how there was an entirely different meal made for her due to her food allergies, how the pullout couch Spike’s room had a squeaky spring. After all, this was probably the last time he’d ever hear her again. 
“I’m almost home, Danny.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Danny, what’s going on?” Danny could hear the panic radiating off of her. He almost wanted to tell her everything, but nobody could know. 
“I, I had to leave.”
“What do you mean you had to leave?” She sounded like she was about to have a panic attack. 
“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
“Danny wai-”
He hung up. 
He just felt blank for a bit, like he was frozen. This was it. He was never going to see them again. All because of one stupid mistake, he’d be alone. Would his parents look for him once they noticed he was gone? Would they care?
He didn’t want them to be upset, he didn’t want to hurt them, but he wanted them to be sad he was gone. He wanted them to care enough to look for him, but some part of his mind told him that they probably wouldn’t. 
The tears started up again, he didn’t try to stop them. 
He never wanted this to happen. He never wanted to have to run away, to never be able to see his friends or family again, he never wanted to die. 
He wished he was human again. 
He jumped up as a spark of light appeared at his midsection, then another, then he was fully enveloped in a bright blinding light. He tried to run away from whatever was causing it, but he tripped over a root, then it disappeared. 
He couldn’t see much clearly. A large green film covered everything, and when he closed his eyes the film turned purple. Like he had stared at the sun for too long. He propped himself up and waited for a few minutes for the film to go away. The rocks underneath his hand were sharp, so he lifted it. 
Weren’t his hands supposed to be covered with gloves? He looked at his hand, but it was too dark to see more than the outline. He could use his phone as a light, he reached for his pocket, but it wasn’t there. He wasn’t wearing the jumpsuit anymore, instead he was wearing pajama shorts and an old t-shirt. Exactly what he had been wearing before he put on the jumpsuit.
He wasn’t glowing anymore. 
He felt his teeth, one canine was longer and sharper than the other, but that was normal. They were nowhere near how sharp they had been earlier. He looked at his hand, trying to see if it was purple or not, but he still couldn’t quite see it. He looked around for a light source, any light source. There was probably a streetlight somewhere, he just had to get to the road. He grabbed his bag and started running. The rocks and pinecones at the forest floor hurt his feet, but he ignored it. He got to the road and ran until he saw a streetlight. He stood underneath it and looked at his hand. 
It was human.
He was human. 
He needed to go home. 
He started running towards Fentonworks as fast as he could, he could barely feel his feet touch the ground, it was almost like he was flying, but he couldn’t focus on that. He could stay, he wasn’t going to be hunted down, he was human, he could forget any of this happened and stay living with his family. He just had to get home. 
He got to the door sooner than he expected, he reached for the handle, then froze. He could hear some faint talking. It sounded like Jazz. Who was she talking to? Were Mom and Dad home?
“Yes, he’s kind of short, around 5 foot 3, black hair, tan skin, yes, blue eyes, they’re pretty big.” 
He opened the door and walked in, Jazz was on the phone, she sounded really worried, almost like she was about to cry. 
“No I don’t know what he was last wearing, but most of his shirts are space themed.”
He slowly closed the door and walked over to Jazz, tapping her on the shoulder. 
“No, I’m not sure where he’d be, you could check the-” She turned around then dropped the phone immediately after seeing him and scooped him up off the ground in a bone crushing hug.
“Oh my god, Danny!” She set him down and gave him a look over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt, did something happen?”
“No, I’m fine.” He assured her. He wasn’t sure if that was right, he didn’t feel fine, but he felt so bad about making her so worried.
“Are you sure? You seemed really distressed in that phone call. I was really…” she trailed off for a second. “Please don’t do that again.”
“Okay.”
She gave him another look over before wrapping her arms around him in another hug. He hesitated a second before hugging her back. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
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kei-luv · 1 year
Note
Oh! I’m so glad I wasn’t bothering you and I wanted to leave a request if you don’t mind too much :)
Vance x male reader where Vance first interaction is when reader left a single blue bell flower when he had an argument with his parents and then it became a daily routine where a flower would be on his windowsill until he caught reader in the act which just was a thank you from Vance and then they became close. Reader takes care of a flower garden and invites Vance to hang out with him where they talk and Vance helps out watering and planting saplings, and when some boys tried to make a mess of the garden Vance immediately started to fight them as reader was trying to pry him off of them. I imagine them having green tea on a cold winter day while walking down the street in fluffy jackets
Thank you for doing my request and I hope you have a good day :)
.⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆. 𝗠𝘆 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿
Note: And thank you so much for requesting! I'm really liking tbp requests, and I've just been waiting for someone to ask me to write smth abt it. I also really like the ideas you give me, so it's a lot easier for me to write about Vance.
───
tw: Vance Hopper in general, family argument, cussing, Reader is very sweet to Vance, Vance beating the hell out of someone, and mentions of blood. genre: angst?/fluff reader: male characters: vance hopper
Word Count: 1,541 Masterlist
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Everyone was aware of the notorious 'Pinball' Vance Hopper, who made his name by brutally beating a number of people just for being close to his pinball machine at the Grab N' Go, where he spent the majority of his time.
But nobody was aware of his family's circumstances, his relationship with his parents, or the extraordinary number of fights they had. Furthermore, Vance's parents got upset upon finding out their son had beaten up yet another person.
The constant arguments between him and his parents, which occurred almost every day, were just too much for the blonde. The teenage boy was thus startled when he entered his room one day to find a bouquet of bluebells and a note neatly arranged on top of his bed, with his windowsill wide open.
The boy slowly made his way to his bed and picked up the note, which read, "Something to make you feel a little bit better today :)" Uncertain of how he should feel, Vance reluctantly picked up the bouquet, sat down on his bed, and silently regarded the flowers.
The following few weeks continued in this pattern, with Vance arriving home later than usual, fighting with his parents once more, and then entering his room to find a fresh bouquet of bluebells and a note on his bed.
Vance soon developed a keen interest in the person who kept giving him bouquets of flowers, because whoever it was must’ve known about his reputation and the name he had given himself, and he had several questions about why they would do so.
How they even managed to open his window after he locked it, why they left a bouquet of bluebells on his bed, and why they wrote such kind notes to him.
Vance was looking for clarification, and he's going to make sure he gets them.
---
The following morning, Vance made the decision to stay in, leaving his house to fool his parents into thinking he was going to school, only to return once he realized they had left.
In an effort to catch the person who had left him the flowers in the act, he made the decision to wait outside the door to his bedroom while listening for any noise that would indicate someone opening his window.
With no sign of anyone entering, the minutes quickly turned into hours. Standing from the floor and heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Vance heaved a long sigh.
Vance was about to start drinking when he heard a loud thud coming from his room. Out of instinct, he dropped the glass on the kitchen island and ran to his room, where he opened the door to find someone he never would have suspected of being the flower culprit.
"[LastName]? So you were the one who kept leaving those damn flowers these past few weeks?"
Before clearing his throat, [Name] remained silent and appeared to still be in shock from being caught. He glanced away from the blonde in embarrassment.
"Uhm..I noticed you looked a lot more..grumpier than usual. So I just thought, well, y'know..I thought maybe if I left you these flowers, you'd feel a bit better.."
[Name] muttered softly under his breath, but Vance undoubtedly caught what he said, and he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter as it always did when he was near the [h/c].
[Name] [LastName], the only person who has ever approached him normally, the only person who never appeared to be scared of him, and the only person that 'Pinball' Vance Hopper wanted to spend his time with.
So the realization that [Name] was the person who left those flowers on Vance's bed almost every day caused his heart to race, and for once, Vance found the sensation to be quite pleasant.
"Oh..well, you could’ve just given them to me in person, you didn't have to act so fucking anonymous. If it were someone else, I would’ve beaten the shit out of them y'know."
Vance spoke while rubbing his nape in an attempt to conceal his flushed face from [Name], who could only stifle a laugh.
"Well, I'm glad you wouldn’t actually beat me up. But uh..did they make you feel a little better..?"
[Name] inquired, hoping that perhaps a small part of Vance was pleased to have received the bluebell bouquet. Vance let out a soft whisper, and [Name] couldn't help but wonder what the blonde had said.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" [Name] asked, hoping that the blonde wouldn't just give him a grunt as always, but would actually repeat his response to him.
"Tch, I said fucking yeah..dumbass." Vance muttered in a stern tone while glaring at the [h/c], but [Name] was aware that it wasn't a bad thing. The [h/c] was delighted to learn that Vance had liked the flowers he had given him over the previous few weeks.
"Well..I'll see you around then? I've already finished what I needed to do, so I'll get going now."
[Name] said, approaching the window as he started to climb outside, waving goodbye to the blonde who was only observing as the boy left, heaving a deep sigh to quiet his racing heart, and then shutting his window.
"Fucking dumbass.." Vance muttered under his breath as he sat on his bed and looked down at the bouquet of bluebells next to him, wearing a small smile on his face.
---
The two started to hang out more frequently after that, and [Name] eventually invited Vance over to help him with the backyard garden.
[Name] spent time teaching Vance about various flower meanings, and Vance assisted in planting and caring for the flowers. The two enjoyed their time together very much.
Vance was on his way to [Name]'s house when he heard a loud cry and some boys laughing in the [LastName] family's backyard. He immediately ran to the source of the sound.
"Stop that! Get the hell off me!" The voice of [Name] screamed out as he struggled to free himself from one of the boys' grip on him and prevent the other two from destroying the garden.
The boy who was holding onto [Name] was quickly approached by Vance, who then punched him in the face while the other two boys were caught off guard and abruptly stopped what they were doing.
"Shit! It's Vance Hopper!" One of the two boys muttered as they witnessed Vance punch the boy repeatedly and without mercy even as blood spurted from his nose.
"Vance, stop! You'll get yourself into more trouble if you keep hurting him!"
[Name] shouted, attempting to free Vance from the boy he had just assaulted. With a scoff, Vance stopped and let the [h/c] pull him away from the now-unconscious teen, staring down at the two other boys who tensed at the harsh glare.
"If you even think of coming back here again, I'll beat your ass way fucking worse than what he got."
Both boys quickly nodded in response to Vance's warning, grabbed their friend, and ran out of the backyard. Vance and [Name] were left alone in the now-messy garden.
With a heavy sigh, [Name] grabbed Vance's wrist and dragged him inside his house so he could treat his bloody and bruised knuckles. "You go ahead and take a seat, I'll just go and get the aid kit."
Vance settled down on the couch without any complaints and patiently awaited [Name]'s return with the first aid kit.
"Hands out," Back in the living room, [Name] gave the command as he took a seat next to Vance, who immediately complied. [Name] had a wet cloth in his hand, and started wiping the blood off the blonde's knuckles. Vance hissed from the stinging sensation.
"You know you didn't have to do that, right?"
[Name] spoke, his eyes fixed on Vance's bloody knuckles as he took an antibiotic cream out of the first aid kit and started to apply it to the wound, Vance only stared at [Name].
"Did you really expect me to just stand there and watch as those fuckers ruin all of your hard work? Yeah, I don't fucking think so."
Vance responded, his eyes slowly lowering to [Name]'s hands as they started to delicately bandage his knuckles. [Name]'s lips started to flutter into a gentle smile.
"Well, that should do it." [Name] finished bandaging the wound, beaming up at his accomplishment as Vance smirked.
"Yeah, thanks." Vance murmured, lying back on the couch as he closed his eyes. He had not noticed [Name]'s longing gaze on him who decided to lay back next to him as well.
The two were practically glued to each other on the couch as [Name] linked his arm with Vance's, his hand holding his, and his head lying on Vance's shoulder.
Usually, after finishing the garden or after Vance had beaten someone and [Name] had to tend to his wounds, the two would perform these kinds of acts together.
The simple act of holding each other or even just being close to each other has always made them feel calm, at peace, and loved. They have always enjoyed these kinds of moments together as friends.
But who knows—possibly they'd become more than just friends in the future.
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AN: I had no idea how to end this, a part of me was thinking of just making them confess to each other, but another part of me just felt like leaving that up to your imagination, or something like that. Also, send more tbp requests, I need them.
©KEI-LUV. please do not translate or repost any of my work on any other platform, or claim any of it as your own. 2023
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ququb444hm · 1 year
Text
𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝
part 11 / moral support ☆
masterlist
warning(s): profanity, definitely typos (i rushed 😍)
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It was friday afternoon and yn had just woken up to the constant ringing of her phone. grumbling at the noise, she slowly rolled to the side of her bed where her bedside stood and answered the call– 
“yn, where are you?
“home. I just woke up, why are you calling me?”
It was her brother, tetsurou, and by the sound of his tone, he was not happy. after mori informed him of his sister's absences from school yesterday, he began to realize just how much he saw yn around campus by her not being on campus.
normally, before their first class, tetsu would walk pass yn buying an energy drink at the vending machine near his biomedical research class (in which he would push yn out of the way, grab the drink from the opening, and make a run for it) or how after chemistry, yn would be the last one to walk out of class because she rambled to her teacher about god knows what, but tetsurou would also be the last to exit due to falling asleep to mrs. liam's monotone voice and repetitive lessons, allowing him to see yn from across the building he was in.
“did you skip all of your morning classes? what’s going on with you? are you actually missing class because of what happened on friday?”
“tetsu, i’m not failing anything. all my teachers are fine with it as long as I still turn in my assignments. everything is fine, don’t worry about it.”
“but I can’t just not worry about it, yn,” a lot of rustling was heard on the other side of the phone. assumingly, tetsurou was making his way to the gym for volleyball practice since this time, mori made sure to schedule the volleyball team for its usage. “look, I love you, and I don’t want to push you, but as your older brother, I will push you off a cliff if I know you won’t die from it–”
“what.”
“In other words, you need to talk to kozume. like now, or today, or just not wait until I graduate to clear things up–”
“I know, I know…I will…”
“because know it or not, he’s literally miserable from not seeing you. I walk into volleyball practice and his mind is elsewhere. he literally missed the ball three times yesterday! three! I’m about to bench him if you don’t fix this. his career is on you, kuroo!”
yn let out a laugh from her brother’s exaggeration, “alright, alright! I get it. I’ll…stop by his dorm after my art block tonight.”
“promise?”
“yes, captain. I promise.”
“good, good. thank you. now if you will excuse me,” tetsurou opened the doors of the gymnasium, preparing himself for another three hours of secondhand embarrassment from the team’s designated setter, kozume. “I have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”
yn spent the rest of the day until her usual art blocks at 7 thinking of what to say to kozume to try and mend the awkward tension she felt whenever his name was even mentioned in any conversation— that and crying to cheese about how much she hated being an adult.
"cheese, you are such a good listener," yn mumbled. she lay on the floor of her bedroom, watching as the rodent sniffed the sliced pieces of cherry tomatoes that had been cut into small pieces beforehand. "I'm gonna bring you with me to talk to kozu for moral support, okay?" a moment of silence where cheese walked over to the girl and booped his nose to the side of her cheek was taken as a yes and yn grinned in contentment. "okay it's decided then. I feel much better about this already."
hours passed and soon it was time for class. and then a few more hours made their way out the door, signaling the end of painting.
mori, who had sculpting in the neighboring room, peeked his head into the class, spotting his friend. "yn! I'm really craving steamed salmon, we should go to that one restaurant on the main road!"
"aw what, I would love to," yn chimed, packing up her things in such a slow manner that even the professor noticed. "but I have something I have to do."
"ms. kuroo, I also have something to do so could you stop stalling and clean up. I know it doesn't take long to gather all your brushes." mr. alec peered through his glasses, his hip leaning on his desk as he watched his oh-so-ambiguous student.
yn awkwardly laughed his warning off with a wave of his hand, "ahaha so silly, mr. alec. what's a busybody like you doing on this very fine friday evening? a date perhaps?"
"more like a friendly hangout with an old friend from grade school,"
"doesn't seem like that to me," mori giggled, eyeing the attire of the art teacher. "you seem pretty dressed up. are those new glasses?"
before mr. alec could form a remark, rin strode into the room, carrying a small camera which he used to zoom into the faces of the three other individuals present. "woah, looking clean mr."
"alright, alright. no paparazzi," mr. alec groaned, ushering the kids out once he noticed yn slinging her bag over her shoulder. "have a safe night you rowby bunch, make good choices!"
"we'll try!" the tree unanimously sang.
"so whats so important that you have to turn down steamed salmon?" mori questioned.
the three walked through the halls, making their way to their bikes which were chained up in front of the building. "you're not coming to eat dinner with us?" rin pushed further.
yn shook her head, eyes glued to her shoes. "nah, I'm gonna talk to kozu. tetsu called and told me he would push me off a cliff if I didn't or something."
the two choked up a laugh at the statement, muttering how much they loved the siblings' interactions. "hey, I'm proud of you though. I know it's like weird and all but at least kozume would be better prepared next time we decide to go out as a big group again."
"rin shut up." yn playfully rolled her eyes, pushing the boy's shoulder.
finally standing in front of their bikes, the three said their goodbyes before separating.
peddling back to the flower shop, yn quickly freshened up and grabbed cheese before making her way back onto her bike and finally building up the courage to face the oblivious blonde.
kozume on the other hand was in the middle of making dinner when he heard the familiar ping that signaled someone outside his dorm room. putting the kitchen knife down, he, along with ginger who trudged beside him, made their way to the door. upon looking through the peephole, the recognizable doe eyes also looking through the hole made him let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
quietly opening the door, he was met with yn who awkwardly stood with cheese on her shoulder. "hey kozu."
"hi yn."
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part 10 hi cheese <- | masterlist | -> part 12 how cute
note(s): sorry tis bit late o.o none of the pictures used are mine!!
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witchersmistress · 9 months
Text
To Build A New
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Hello my darlings!!! lets dive back into the world of Harper and August shall we??
Trigger Warnings: vulgar language, only Harpers pov no August this time around.
Word Count: 1.7K
Harpers POV
My head is pounding. I blink into the long rays of warm summer sun and sit up, grabbing onto the chaise lounge when a wave of dizziness hits. It takes me a second to get my bearings, to take in the red jalapeños dangling from their plants and the towering sunflowers overhead. I wince at the incessant noise of cicada song, sawing into my brain instead of soothing me with its familiarity, and the constant, hot wind that blows steadily from the south.
My heart races erratically, and I stumble to my feet, gasping for breath past the ache inside me. I want to—need to—step off the edge, to make it happen this time. Last time, the thought felt like a question, something to ponder absently, the consequences being equal either way. This time, it feels like an answer, the only possible solution. It only takes a moment to cross the roof. I’m almost at the edge when Mr. D grabs my arm and spins me around. He’s not gentle this time. His lips are set in a tight line, and he keeps his grip on my arm and marches me back to the chair. He pushes me down into it, the plush outdoor furniture he bought for me to sit on that probably cost more than the furniture in my house. My head throbs when my ass hits the cushion. He sits beside my knees and just looks at me, his good eye piercing into me until I have to look away. “What happened?” I ask. “You led August here,” he says flatly. My voice comes out as barely more than a breath, almost stolen by the wind. “What?” He rakes his hand through his blonde hair, which he’s cut since I saw him last, when I left him. “I just… Why here, Harper?” I close my eyes. My fingers shake, and I have to ball them into fists to steady myself. “I was bringing back your truck,” I whisper. “And you don’t have a garage.” His words are uninflected. It’s not a question. I don’t argue. I remember coming back, parking the truck, closing the garage to put one more wall between me and August. But he found me, anyway. And now he found Mr. D, and I’m not safe here, either. There’s nowhere safe. Even worse, I exposed Mr. D. Will he have to give up his beautiful home? His plants? His life? “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes. Words aren’t enough to fix what I’ve done. “Maybe I should have gotten you help,” he says with a weary sigh. “Instead of thinking you’d heal here if I gave it time.” “No,” I say, sitting up and pulling my knees up to my chest. “It’s not your fault.” He turns to me, swallowing and searching my eyes. “Do you need to be under surveillance? I can’t change what I did, but I can take you now, if you need it.” I shake my head. “I don’t need that.” He takes my hand between both of his, slowly threading his tattooed fingers through mine. “What do you need, Harper?” I remember all the times he told me he needed more, that my information wasn’t good enough. Maybe it wasn’t enough because he couldn’t ask for what he really needed. He seemed so cold, so heartless. But he’s not the same in person. He’s just as broken as the rest of us. I remember how it felt to be needed by August, how much I needed that. Maybe that’s all Mr. D ever needed, too, even if he didn’t know it. Maybe that’s all any of us need, at least once in our lives. I don’t know what I need anymore, but I still remember how to give. So I swallow past the ache in my throat and give him the answer he deserves. “You,” I whisper. “I need you, Mr. D.”
  Later, I sat on the island where I sat for so many days. I fill out the paperwork from school while Mr. D cooks and Local News with Jackie puts up a map showing the hotspots where the new designer drug has popped up. I look up every now and then, checking the TV or thinking how strange it is that I never took the time to admire Mr. D the way he admires me. I was always an object to him, something to dress and decorate and compliment, something to consume the way he consumes his fancy meals, drink in with his eyes the way he drinks his one glass of fine wine with dinner each night. And he was the opposite to me, an idea with no substance. I was happy to let him hide behind his mask, to call him the Phantom, to ask no questions. I rarely admired the beautiful, long lines of his trim physique, the impeccable wardrobe, the skill it takes to sear pork chops and roast green beans and frizzle leeks at the same time. “Where did you learn to cook like that?” I ask. He glances back at me from where he’s arranging the plates, sprinkling crispy leeks in a neat line over a heap of real mashed potatoes, not the powdered kind from the box. “I’m a recluse,” he says. “With energy to burn and even more time to kill.” “You taught yourself to make all this?” I ask as he slides a plate in front of me, everything on it looking both appetizing and visually appealing, like it could be served in the finest restaurant in a big city, not a bachelor pad in Atlanta,Georgia. “I take no credit,” he says. “It was all TV and the internet.” “TV and the internet didn’t cook this dinner,” I say, accepting a glass of wine. I feel strange, like a stranger in his house, the same way I felt when I went home after being here for months. Nothing quite fits right anymore. Maybe it never did.
 You’d think we’d be perfect together, two lost people with no place, no purpose in the world anymore. Maybe it could have worked before, if he’d agreed to meet instead of being too scared to show his face. Now I’m too broken, too fragmented to ever fit together with anyone. And though he’s broken, too, our pieces don’t match up. They grind against each other as we try to force them together in a desperate attempt to make something bearable from our lives. Mr. D sits beside me, and we eat in silence for a few minutes. “I’m going back to school,” I say at last. He pauses, then finishes chewing before answering. “Because you missed the last few months? You should be able to work something out if you’re that close to graduating.” “I was only a junior,” I reminded him.
He nods. “August graduated. You won’t have to see him.” “He knows your truck,” I say. There’s a beat of silence, heavy with the words I left unspoken. He knows more than Mr. D’s truck. He knows his house. “You’re sure he followed me here?” I ask at last. “That he knows where you live?” “I’m sure.” My stomach lurches, and I can’t swallow the food in my mouth. I have to spit it into a napkin and suck in a loud, ugly breath before I can speak. “Are we safe? Is he outside right now?” He snorts. “Now you’re worried about your safety? We both know what you were doing today, Harper. What you were trying to do.” “I wasn’t…” Was I? I don’t remember. I remember sobbing so hard I thought my chest would implode. When I woke up on that roof, though, I knew what I wanted, the first time I’ve truly wanted anything since the morning Mr. D pulled me off that tree. “You left the truck running,” he says quietly, spearing a green bean. “And closed the garage.” I take a sip of wine to get my throat working again. I was so out of it after I saw August, I don’t even remember driving here.
 I should have been terrified, watching for him in the mirrors. Instead of being paranoid, I forgot the games he plays. “I can’t protect you when I’m not with you,” Mr. D says. “If he makes you do that again…” “He followed me here,” I repeat, as if just realizing it, as if saying it again will make it untrue, make him contradict me. Panic rises in my voice. My head swims, and I have to grab the edge of the counter so I don’t fall off the barstool. He could have run me off the road and killed me right there. He could come after me again. He will, too. He won’t stop until I’m dead. He knows where my mom lives, and now he knows my hiding place. Mr. D frowns at his plate. “You should have protection for when you’re not with me,” he says at last. “I can’t give you a gun, not after what you pulled today. But I’ll have you fitted for brass knuckles, and if you know any other weapons you can’t turn around on yourself…” “I won’t,” I say. He fixes me with his unflinching, turquoise gaze. “Until you see him again.” I don’t answer. I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know myself anymore, the person I am now. I didn’t know I’d be able to face August, to talk to him and even to snark back at him like nothing changed.
 I didn’t know it would be the thing that finally pushed me to the edge. I finish dinner with Mr. D and slide into his bed. I’m ready for him, but he doesn’t use me the way he used to. When he returns from the shower, he climbs in beside me and pulls me into his arms, and we go to sleep. For the next few weeks, that’s how it continues. I won't leave again. I don’t want to risk running into August. I dive deep into the makeup work my professors  sent for the last two months I missed at Georgia State, so I can turn in everything and start senior year at State. It helps to focus on something and get out of my head. Day by day, I feel myself emerge, not the girl I used to be or the one Mr. D made but someone else, someone whose raw edges are sealed over with scar tissue, whose broken pieces at least resemble a human.
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thepenultimateword · 2 years
Note
😳 Heya it's me again! May I request a continuation of 'Static' please???
Part One, Part Two
"Hero, I care about you, and I'll always value these last few years we spent together, but the hero thing was a childish fantasy driven by my guilt and need for revenge. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want, and I haven’t taken it lightly, so I need you to let go and respect my decision. I want to quit. I want to work in the medical field.” Sidekick looked over to where Villain sprawled across his couch. "How'd that sound?"
"Like a breakup.” Villain stretched her arms over her head and plucked a potato chip off the sidetable. “Come on, Hero's not your boyfriend; he's your coworker. If you really think about it, you’re just quitting a job. Do you really need all the soft stuff? What do you owe this guy?"
"A lot actually,” Sidekick said.
He snatched the chip bag out of her reach and folded it against his chest. Villain hadn’t known him all that long, but she had picked up on a few things. One being that he didn’t like distractions when his feelings were in a kerfuffle. He needed full attention. So needy. …So cute.
. “He's the one who was there when I almost killed the villain that murdered my parents. Talked me down. Gave me a place to belong when I had no one left. He’s not just a co-worker. He’s my family.”
Family. Huh. Must be nice.
Guess we’re something like that, huh, fuzzy?”
“Fzzzzz,” the static mumbled softly from the back of her skull. 
Apparently today was a good day. No electric shocks, no headjerking, no deafening noise, just a low constant buzz that blended into the background of her thoughts. It was a rare happening, so she’d taken advantage of the favorable conditions to focus on someone other than her for once. Sidekick may be the only person she really knew, but even if he wasn’t, she would have picked him. He’d focused enough time trying to solve her issues; she could return the favor.
“Ok, ok, keep the soft stuff,” she relented. “Maybe switch up the order though. All that lead up is torture. Like you’re about to come at him with some really bad news. This isn’t supposed to be bad news. I guess it’s not really good news either. It’s just news.”
Sidekick slumped. “I’m not sure he’ll take it that way.” He crinkled the chip bag in his hands for a few seconds before brusquely handing them back to her. “You know, maybe let’s just forget about it for now.”
“Until when? You graduate?”
“No.”
“You’re right, you’ll burn out way before then.”
“Hey!”
“I’m only being honest,” Villain said, raising her hands in the air. “Finals are brutal. And medical school finals plus saving the world?  You won’t survive.”
Sidekick sat down on the edge of the coffee tabe, legs spread out wide in front of him and head cocked slightly to the side. “Did you go to school?”
“With this?” Villain pointed into her ear and scoffed. “Nah. I think there was something like it at the lab though. I have vague memories of filling out test papers.”
“Have you remembered anything else?” Sidekick asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
Villain paused. It still felt odd having a hero know her deep dark past. Or at least, the parts that she could remember. The timeline was very vague. Mostly because she wasn’t exactly sure of her age. She had probably been about 11 when the lab scientists took her, but time blended together behind perpetually closed doors. By her best estimate, she was 17 when she escaped. But it didn’t help that it was around that same time that her implant started getting fritzy. It had always been annoying, but that’s when it became unbearable. It started affecting all sorts of things. Her emotions. Her memories. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that that was intentional. That someone out there might still be watching, and that they were punishing her. In any case, that had always been for her mind only, but Sidekick had somehow leeched it out of her with his tricksy tea and patient expression.
“Not really,” she shrugged. “At least, nothing that I can identify. If that’s what your asking.”
Everything would be easier if they knew who these lab scientists actually were. A name, a location, anything. Then Sidekick and Hero could just storm in and clean house. Sidekick could find the blueprints for this thing slowly scrambling her brains, and he could get this problem off his plate. Villain would’ve liked this quickly resolved too…even if something about those thoughts set her heart apounding and her gut lurching like someone wobbling on the edge of a precipice.
“No,” Sidekick shook his head, “that’s not what I meant. I was just checking in.”
Checking in? What did that mean? The way Sidekick said it, gentle and uncertain, made it seem like something nice.
“I should get going,” she heard herself say, almost like a reflex.
Sidekick stood up. “I’ll walk you.”
“Nah.”
“No, really. It’s getting dark.”
“I’m a villain. Pretty sure I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t feel good about you walking by yourself,” Sidekick said firmly, “just let me get my shoes.”
Villain shadowed his footsteps down the hall and into the doorframe.
“You can walk me under one condition,” she said.
“What’s that?” 
“Wear the hero outfit.”
Sidekick looked back at her from where he was crouched in front of his closet. “Really? I’m being nice and you want to make fun of me?”
“I’m not making fun,” Villain said, but she couldn’t stifle her backward crying laugh. “I just like it.”
“What you like is my hunky midriff.” No sooner did Sidekick say it than he blushed furiously. “Um…can we forget that I said that?”
Why did he even try talking like that when it only ever ended in him embarrassing himself?
“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” Villain said, tipping back and forth on her toes. “Maybe if someone agreed to a certain proposition… So?” 
Sidekick rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Villain pumped her fist.
“But we’re using the fire escape.”
A few minutes later, Sidekick’s combat boots hit the gravel with a loud crunch. Villain wanted to grin, but she settled for a smugly drawn line.
“So. Where’s home?” Sidekick said, pointedly ignoring her expression. He was getting pretty good at picking them out.
“Not too far, but not too close.”
“Address?”
“You expect me to give a hero my address?” Villain gasped exaggeratedly. “What if you just busted in one day and arrested me?”
“Alright then,” Sidekick sighed. “I guess I’ll find out when we get there.”
In a nice town, most people would have been winding down by this time of evening, but Sidekick didn’t live in a wholly nice town. So there were plenty of people ready to stare as they passed by. 
Sidekick’s reaction was that of a seasoned professional. Despite his obvious embarrassment of the costume a few weeks ago, he barely even glanced at the gawking civilians now. Though it was possible that it wasn’t him they were staring at, but rather the sight of them together.
“Aw, are you giving up your reputation for me?” Villain said. “I had no idea our relationship was already that serious.”
“Shut up,” Sidekick grumbled. “If anyone asks, you’re with me as an informant and you’re leading me to some villain hot spot.”
“You know, that’s sort of true.”
The deeper they delved into the city the more shadowed their surrounding seemed to become. Grime slicked the gutters and crawled up the walls of buildings, while every other streetlight was dead or survived only in flickers. The eyes that watched weren’t seen, but they were obvious in the prickles that gathered on the backs of their necks. The feeling they gave off was more malicious than curious. 
This was a sector of villains.
Villain had known the type of area she was pulling Sidekick into, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to her that walking Sidekick in with full costume was like traipsing a hog through a den of lions.
“Well,” Sidekick started as Villain stopped in front of a narrow, greasy building.
“I didn’t think this through,” she interrupted, glancing around at lurking threats. “Come inside a minute. I’ll lend you something.”
“What? Is this a trap?” His tone carried half a scoff but he followed her up the steps and through the winding halls anyway.
Eventually, they reached her creaky, splintered door, leading into an equally creaky, splintered apartment. Villain was thankful that Sidekick merely looked around quietly at the two-room living space, somehow simultaneously barren and in shambles, instead of making commentary.
She gathered up a few clothing items crumbled up on the couch and waved awkwardly to the fridge. "I, uh, have juice. Or bottled water. The tap water's contaminated. Just make yourself at home."
As soon as it was out of her mouth, she cringed. Her implant even gave her a little extra zap as if to chastise her for being so loose with a hero. She hid the twitch in her shoulders with a timely turn on the tips of her toes and ducked into her bedroom.
She turned out the contents of her drawer and began sifting for any piece of big clothing she owned. It was unfortunate that her style also lay on the skintight side. And even if she liked the idea of dressing up Sidekick in various styles of spandex, it wasn't going to help him stand out less.
Eventually, she settled on an oversized sage hoodie and a pair of wide linen trousers with an elastic band waist. She started back into the living room.
"Here, try thi-- Aaah!"
Villain dropped the clothing to the floor in a heap and clapped her hands over her ears.
"FZZZZ! FZZZZ!"
"Villain?"
Somewhere in the blur that was the room, Sidekick moved hastily forward.
A spattering of shocks jerked Villain's head to the right several times in quick succession, straining the muscles in her neck and knocking her off balance.
Instead of bruising her knees on the hard floor, she toppled against something warm and solid.
"Villain?" Sidekick repeated. This time his voice vibrated in his chest and against Villain's cheek.
She tried to look at him but the violent shocks were inking her vision with spots. All she could really do was give in to the hot tears already leaking out the corners of her eyes and break down into loud sobs.
"I've got you," Sidekick said. His voice was muffled beneath the loud buzzing, but Villain still caught his tone of uncertainty. He must have too because he repeated it again, one hand curling in her hair and pressing her firmer to his chest to still her spasming head. "I've got you. It's going to be fine."
He moved slowly, guiding her tottering feet along with him until they reached the ratty sofa where they eased down onto the cushions.
Villain clung tightly to the shoulder of his shirt. He was like a lifeline. It didn't make sense and it wasn't even true, but for some reason, Villain felt like as long as she was with him everything would turn out alright. So she didn't resist when Sidekick reclined back against the sofa arm and tucked her against him.
"Is this ok?" he said through the static. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself."
Villain nodded through a whimper and screwed her eyes shut. She tried to focus on his comfortable warmth instead of the burning sensation shooting through her nerves. At some point, it faded enough for her to make out the gentle shushing and fingers brushing gingerly through her hair, but her body felt too exhausted to react. She simply let her consciousness fizzle out with the remains of electricity.
"I'm going to fix this," Sidekick mumbled on the edge of darkness.
Villain could only sigh in response, a vague impression rather than a clear thought washing over in her last dregs of awareness: She'd gone too deep. She trusted him.
Part Four
Taglist:
@valiantlytransparentwhispers, @watercolorfreckles
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purple-plum-petals · 2 years
Text
—⊱ Gentle Hands Caress my Skin ⊰ || Azul Ashengrotto x Reader
╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮       Character(s): Azul Ashengrotto (Twisted Wonderland), Jade Leech (Twisted Wonderland), Floyd Leech (Twisted Wonderland), Ace Trappola (Twisted Wonderland, mentioned), Deuce Spade (Twisted Wonderland, mentioned), Kalim Al-Asim (Twisted Wonderland, mentioned), Grim (Twisted Wonderland, mentioned)       Reader Type: Human, Ramshackle Prefect (Gender-Neutral Pronouns)       Warning(s): Brief Descriptions of Blood (Specifically a Bloody Nose and Stains on Gloves), Mild Violence, Spoilers for Book 3(?), Use of Japanese TWST Terms (Dorm Leader instead of Housewarden, Madols instead of Thaumarks, etc.)       Genre: Drabble, Fluff (slight Hurt/Comfort), Platonic or Romantic Relationship       Word Count: ~2,600 words       Prompt: “Sit still.” “I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding.” [Prompt List]       Author’s Note: Azul my beloved. 🥰 I just wanted an excuse to write Yuu babying and taking care of Azul which leads him to become flustered because of the Prefect’s concern over him – flustered Azul is best Azul and I will die on that hill. Whether Azul is flustered because he has a crush on Yuu or is touch starved is completely up to you; that’s why I have the story listed as being either romantic or platonic in nature. I also kind of wanted to play around with the whole fish-mafia thing which is why the ending is a bit… darker than what I usually write for these types of drabbles. Don’t worry, they didn’t do anything too bad to the student – just roughed him up a bit so he doesn’t think he can get away with punching Azul in the face.
→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯
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             You were sitting by yourself at a secluded table in Mostro Lounge, nursing a drink as you studied for your upcoming history exam. You would just do it back at your dorm, but Grim had a nasty habit of distracting you by demanding you go to the school store to buy him something to eat. So, in order to combat his near-constant commands for you to go on a food run, you just started studying at the lounge instead (he was still much too scared of Azul and the Leech brothers that he didn’t even want to step foot in the establishment). You’d still bring him dinner after you were done studying, leaving the lounge and stopping by the store and get him some tuna and whatever they had on sale. Though, he would still whine about how he was starving in typical cat fashion despite you having given him plenty of snacks to eat while you were gone for an hour or two. Sometimes, you wondered if Grim thought that you were made of madol.
            You were nearly done with the practice test you had made with some of your classmates, sitting pretty on question 41 of 50 as you tapped your pencil on the table. The smooth jazz of the lounge was relaxing, and the sound of your pencil on the paper in front of you was nearly hypnotic as your hand wrote down the answer mindlessly. For once in your life, you actually felt confident when it came to a history test. Not being originally from Twisted Wonderland made your life harder in more ways than one. Not only did you not possess a single ounce of magical ability, but you also had to learn an entire world’s history while everyone else looked at you like you had lived under a rock your whole life. It was tiring but, somehow, you were managing to keep your good grades in addition to having a blossoming social life.
             Your relaxing study session was suddenly interrupted by yelling from across the lounge. You jumped in your seat from the sudden noise and turned to look at the source of the screaming. You saw Azul, Jade, and Floyd standing across the room from where you were currently seated, talking with a seemingly very irate student from across the way. You didn’t like the way they were clenching and unclenching their fists as they looked at Azul, their dislike for him burning in their eyes so brightly you could see it all the way from your table.
            Just as you were about to go over and use your amazing “beast taming” abilities to help calm the situation down, that’s when the sound of the student’s fist hitting Azul square in the face echoed throughout the lounge with a sickeningly wet thud. As soon as his hand made contact, the student turned tail and ran away, leaving Azul hunched over and holding his nose in his gloved hands. Floyd and Jade were still standing by their dorm leader, seeming to be frozen in shock; by the expressions on their faces, you determined they weren’t expecting the student to do that.
             “Oh my god – Azul, are you alright!?” You shrieked, abandoning your things at your table in order to go make sure Azul was okay; that punch didn’t sound pretty. Sure, you may have had a rocky start to your relationship with the Octavinelle dorm leader, but who hadn’t you had a bad first impression with? Kalim doesn’t count. Jade and Floyd turned to look as you ran towards them, their eyebrows raising slightly in surprise; ah, it appeared as though they had forgotten you were there.
             “Ah, Prefect... sorry you had to witness such a thing when you’re supposed to be here relaxing.” Azul told you, standing up straight and putting on a hardened expression despite the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He said aloud, looking towards the twins as he ordered, “Floyd, Jade, bring that student back here for me – we can’t let him get away with such brutish behavior.”
             Jade bowed slightly, sending a small smile your way despite the situation as he told Azul, “Yes, sir.”
             “Hehe – on it, boss~…” Floyd said, the tone of his voice and the smile on his face not matching the pure and unbridled rage currently swirling in his mismatched eyes.
             You and Azul watched the two of them leave through the glass doors and, eventually, the premise of the dorm. Everything was silent, the only sound being the smooth jazz still playing in the background through the speakers of the lounge. You turned to look at Azul, taking in the pained expression on his face and the slight glimpse of a scowl under the cover of his fist. When your attention was on his hand, however, that’s when you noticed red slowly seeping through the white of his glove, the stain growing larger and larger as the seconds ticked away. You reached up and gently touched the hand covering his nose, effectively grabbing his attention as you told him softly, “Azul, your nose is bleeding.”
             “Hmm?” He pulled his hand away from his face, looking down at his usually pristine white gloves with blood stains near his fingers and palms. Upon realizing he had been bleeding, all Azul said was, “Oh, I suppose it is.”
             “Is there a first aid kit in your office?” You asked, wanting to help him get cleaned up and to check to see if his nose was broken; you and your friends found yourself in trouble more often than not, so you had gotten fairly skilled when it came to first aid. Hell, you’ve had to patch up Deuce more times than you could count on one hand whenever his delinquent side took over the logical part of his brain which was, admittedly, not the biggest.
             “I do believe so; Jade put one in the bottom drawer of my desk in case of a situation like this. I’ve never needed to use it before, so it should still be there.” He told you as he returned to holding his nose tightly between his fingers, not caring if more blood were to get on his glove considering it was already ruined at this point.
             You grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and lightly tugged him along as you made your way to the VIP room, saying aloud, “Okay, then let’s go get you fixed up – don’t want to get blood all over the rest of your uniform, right?”
             Azul didn’t answer you, allowing you to drag him to his office with no attempt to stop you. You eventually made your way there, opening the door and making Azul take a seat on one of the two leather couches in the room as you searched for the first aid kit. Once you found it, you grabbed it and went over to the glass coffee table, placing it on the surface and opening it up. You grabbed the instant cold pack and put it to the side before picking up some disinfectant wipes to clean up the blood that had started caking around his nose.
             “Okay Azul, move your hand for a moment so I can clean you up.” He did what you had asked, rolling his eyes slightly and removing his thankfully not broken glasses before setting them on the table next to the cold pack. You gently wiped his face, removing the drying blood with a careful hand so you didn’t cause him any more pain. Luckily, his nose wasn’t broken but, sadly, it was starting to bruise around the area where he was hit.
             “You know you don’t need to do this, right? I am perfectly capable of doing this myself.” Azul told you, opening his eyes and taking in the concentrated expression on your face as you carefully tended to his injury.
             You looked up to make eye contact with Azul, smiling slightly as you reassured him, “I know you can, but you might have a hard time doing this by yourself. Now shush and sit still.”
             He just sighed out, his voice strained as he said, “I am fine, Prefect.”
             “You’re bleeding, Azul – you are absolutely not fine…” You lightly scolded him, placing the bloody wipe on the table before grabbing another one so you could continue cleaning him up. You kept talking as you did his, leaning closer and closer to his face as you said, “Luckily, your nose doesn’t look like it’s broken, so that’s good. I’ll just clean up the blood and…”
             Okay, wow – you were a lot closer this time around than you were before. Azul could feel your breath lightly fanning against his face; you smelled like the fruity drink you had been enjoying before he was punched, and he found his cheeks heating up at the closeness. He wasn’t used to soft moments like this and stuttered out, cringing at the sound of his wavering voice, “P-Prefect, could you… uh, step away for a second? You’re… a little too close at the moment.”
             “Huh?” You dumbly asked, looking at Azul’s gray eyes as his face grew hotter and hotter by the second. You had just wanted to make sure you had properly cleaned up the smeared blood across his nose and cheeks and seemed to have moved closer subconsciously. Upon realizing how you had been mere inches from his face, you exclaimed as you moved away from him faster than the speed of light, “Oh! S-Sorry Azul – didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries there, haha. I’m just, ah, used to patching up my group of idiots since they tend to get into trouble more often than not.”
             Azul took a moment to calm his racing heart before asking, clearing his throat before he spoke, “Ah, Trappola and Spade?”
             “Hehe, yeah… Sure, they might share the same brain cell a majority of the time, but I love them nonetheless. Deuce usually gets roughed up more whenever his delinquent side decides to shine through, though.” You chuckled lightly, the lovely sound filling the office like a melody as you continued to speak, remising about past events with your friends, “You know, there was this one time when…”
             Azul gladly listened to you speak as you finished tending to his injury, enjoying the sound of your voice as if it was music to his ears. You pulled away and smiled, Azul missing the warmth your touch made him feel before shoving that thought down into the furthest part of his mind as you said, effectively interrupting his internal struggle, “Aaaand… done! You’re all cleaned and patched up, Azul – good as new!” You turned away from him and began packing the first aid kit back up, noticing the instant cold pack on the table. You grabbed it and cracked it in your hands, turning back to Azul who was putting his glasses back on as you said, “Oh, here’s the cold pack; it should help with any swelling.”
             He paused for a moment before gingerly taking the pack from your hands, uttering softly in a tone you had never heard from him before, “…Thank you, Prefect.” However, the vulnerability didn’t last long before he returned to his businessman persona, asking you in his usual tone, “I owe you for your service, so what shall it be? Name whatever you’d like and I’ll make it happen.”
             You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words, shutting the first aid kit and making sure the latches were secured before standing up and making your way back to the desk to put it away. You spoke as you walked, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice as you told him, “Azul, you don’t need to do anything – I helped you because you’re my friend and I didn’t want to see you in pain. I didn’t do it for personal gain, you know.”
             “Y-Yes, but I do not like being indebted to anyone. Just… name your price, please.” He said, the tone of his voice sounding more exhausted than anything. Whether it was from the adrenaline crash or by you making his life more difficult, you couldn’t quite tell.
             You took a moment to think, placing your finger against your chin as if you were truly contemplating something big. After a moment or two, you smirked as you asked, “Hmm… how about a free drink on the house the next time I come in?”
             Azul paused for a moment, looking at you as if you had just thrown away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity as he asked you, “…That’s all?”
             “Yep! Your employees know how to make a mean drink, that’s for sure – I love being able to come here and study away from the chaos back at my dorm. Grim makes studying near impossible the majority of the time.” You told him, making your way over to the couch and taking a seat on the crouch across from Azul.
             He smirked and said, reaching out to shake your hand, “It’s a deal then – one drink on the house the next time you come in.” You shook his hand playfully, smiling softly since you knew that he wasn’t using his unique magic for it; it was pretty much just habit for him to say the phrase at this point.
             Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from the lounge, “Azuuuul~ – we brought the minnow back with us!”
             Okay, you were not sticking around to see what they did to that kid, so you stood up and said, making your way to the door in a slight hurry as you gave Azul one final wave, “Ah, it seems it’s my time to leave. Well, see you later Azul!”
             “Goodbye, Prefect.” He told you, an unusually soft smile gracing his features. You made your way down the hallway, passing Floyd and Jade as they dragged the assailant by the collar of his shirt in a similar manner picking up a cat by the scruff of their neck. Jade gave you another curt nod while Floyd was too busy dragging the student like a sack of potatoes to notice you slinking by. You went back to your table and hastily packed your books and supplies back into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you began your way home. Yeah… you would just have to finish that practice test back at your dorm – you weren’t going to sit around and listen to some kid being squeezed by Floyd for who knows how long. Surely you could deal with Grim’s nonsense for just nine more questions, right?
~~~
             “Now, despite having changed my ways, I am certainly not going to just sit back and let you walk away after assaulting me and ruining the Prefect’s only time of relaxation.” Azul sounded angrier at the fact that the student had stressed out Yuu more than he was about being punched in the face, but the twins decided not to point that out… well, at least not right now. Azul turned to the two of them, asking with a smirk, “Floyd, Jade – what do you suggest we do with this brute, hm?”
             “I have a few ideas. Would you like me to run them by you?” Jade asked, smiling wickedly as he glanced down at the student who was shaking like a leaf in a storm.
             “I’d love to hear them, Jade. Floyd, why don’t you squeeze him for the time being while we think of a… suitable plan of action.” Azul said, glancing over at Floyd who had been cracking his knuckles in preparation for this.
             Floyd just smirked even wider, making his way over to the student who began backing away as he got closer, saying sadistically, “Hehe… sounds good to me~.”
             …Let’s just say the other students of the dorm had to try and ignore the screams of their fellow classmate for a couple of hours.
⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆
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hedgiwithapen · 7 months
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Stargirl Barb: “I’m not cut out for this.”
set during 2x06
The machines beeped quietly, a constant alert that Pat's heart was beating, that his lungs were filling, that at least he was alive. Barb took a moment to press her face into the cool white sheets of the hospital bed, struggling to breathe herself.  She hadn't allowed herself to fall apart with Courtney there, though she'd wanted to the moment her work phone had rang, and she'd heard the awful sob  on the other end of the line-- "Mom, Pat--Pat's--oh, god, there's blood--"
She'd thought he was dead. Bridget Chapel had assured her and Courtney and the voicemail running on Mike's unanswered phone, that he'd be ok. Weak and maybe dizzy for a few days, but nothing that wouldn't heal in time.
Barb wasn't sure they had time.  "I'm not cut out for this," she told Pat, still asleep, his chest rising and falling awkwardly around the ribs that were at best bruised. This wasn't supposed to be her life. A year ago, she'd been preparing for a move here, envisioning the best parts of her childhood. That was what Courtney and Mike should have had; drive in movies, homecoming dances, family dinners. Not monsters trying to kill them in their own home. 
Courtney had the Staff. It would protect her, and Mike, Barb knew, but that hadn't been enough to save Pat's old friend. She wanted to stand and pace. She didn't want to let go of Pat's hand. 
"I'm not cut out for this," she said again. Sitting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and hoping... she hated every minute of it. But what was there she could actually do? She didn't have a mech, or a legacy to carry. 
She had a phone, though. And a business card tucked into her pocket. 
Carefully, she pulled her hand free, wincing at the tiny noise that escaped Pat's throat when she did. 
The Shade. Pat had said he was a villain. He'd been nothing but ominous. But he could have hurt her, in that storage room. He could have taken all of Zarrick's things, and surely more of them had to be real magic. He had found where she worked. He could have found her home as easily as asking anyone on the sidewalk.
She walked to the window, squinting in the direction of the school. There was no sign of a fight, yet. She hoped that was good. closing her eyes, she hoped that she was doing the right thing, because she had to do something.
The Shade answered before the first ring of the phone had finished.  
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gonegirl1996 · 15 days
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At times you have to sacrifice friendships/relationships if you really want to succeed. It’s just how the games goes… not everyone was built with the ability to wing a test and pass but some are, and some require more effort. People will either understand or they won’t. And it really depends on the value you place on getting the “work” done But you always have to take breaks for you and your well being, or everything was for nothing…
Yeah man couldn’t agree more. I had to sacrifice my spontaneous tradition going to nyc for Eid with my sister. Although I must say I am lucky to have a sister who understands that I must put my studies first and she also understands I am not her parent to make all these needs or wants of her come true so she’s learning to go to my parents for shit. And I’m also learning that I am not responsible for shit other than being an older supportive sister. Like it’s not my job to be a surrogate parent.
And bruh so true. I don’t have the ability to do shit that works for the generalized population. Like I’ll have to go HARD than the average NON-adhd or NON-severe adhd computer science student and over the average weekly recommended study time just to pass with a high C to low B (if I’m lucky with a B).
And I also attempted to run the other way aka I tried doing what is recommended or doing methods that other people do but I always end up in the 60’s IF I’m lucky. Otherwise high 50’s.
Tried study podomero method(been acquainted with it since high school actually) but again works for the typical non-severe adhers/or non-adher. Tried quiet spaces like studying in the library, brown noise, white noise, adhd focus music, EVERYTHING in the book I tried. Vitamins. It doesn’t work. Only thing that worked for me are my prescription stimulants.
Why do you think there’s so many there’s so many adhd hacks cuz none of them works!!! compared to medication where there’s only 5 classes of medication that is registered for adhd treatment? 😭
Unfortunately for me my meds work half the duration time because my dumbass body metabolizes that shit so quickly. So I can’t even reap the full benefits of the listed duration time. So half the time I am studying off the meds when the meds wear off.
STEM, like computer science is hard already for the average student. Now add this to the equation: a student with severe adhd emphasis on impulsivity, emotional dysregulation, and lack of attention and fiend for chasing novelty and disorganized study space and unable to manage time and unable to see or predict future consequences (to me when I try to think about it just seems so abstract I can’t lol) + medication that doesn’t even last for the listed duration time + deeply in-grained from childhood people-pleasing tendencies when dealing with relationships
Now, I am content with the routine I have for myself cuz it took me what feels like a lifetime to get here however, there’s always holes and gaps so always room for improvement which I don’t see as a bad thing cuz essentially this is what life is about right? We are always in constant motion both literally and figuratively and are extremely malleable whether it’s coming from good or bad things. so the same can be applied for adjusting routines. So I made shit tons of changes in my “routine” mostly those are somatic changes and it didn’t help with the adhd symptoms (except for slightly reducing emotional dysregulation. Like I still experience it but it goes away more quickly now) but you know what it helped with? Becoming more resilient and persistent and to keep going after what I want despite the bad grades. It fuels you up to keep going.
Also thank you for this message. I kinda went on a tangent. your message was really validating too cuz I don’t think many people can understand the difficulties of having so many forces against you (unless they suffer from similar forces at the similar intensities as you) and you’re trying to keep yourself afloat and not drown cuz you aren’t wired how shit is set up for the general population in academia. 😄
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