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vox-ex · 3 years

Text

For Now the Universe Relents (supercorp)

part 2 (Alex POV) part 1 (Kara and Lena)

please enjoy part 2 of this ask from I original ask below I got from @kmkalan , it was nice to get a chance to write some protective Alex moments with Kara and Lena. Also thanks to everyone who read the first part and asked for this follow up, here you go :)

Character A helped Character B into a sitting position. The sirens were getting louder and soon this nightmare would be over.

---- ---- ---- -----

Alex finds them huddled together — Lena with her back pressed into Kara's chest and Kara with her hands held firmly around her waist, and her head tucked into the hollow of her neck.

She kneels down in front of them, brushes a trembling finger along Kara's cheek as her eyes linger on the dark patches that litter her suit.

"Are you okay?" And Alex hates the words even as she says them. Because she can see the look in her eyes. Can still see the war she's just fought still lingering inside of them, can see everything she is trying to do not to fall apart.

But the words are a reflex, something to say when there is nothing to say. Something to fill the air with something other than the fine layer of ash that is coating the both of them.

"I'm fine," and Kara's words are just as much a reflex as her own, just as much a distraction from the horrible truths of the world around them.

But between them, Kara has always been the worse liar.

"Kara?"

Alex runs her thumb over the back of her knuckles, finds them beaten red and broken.

Her shoulders tense, and she tries not to jostle Lena in her arms, but she must still feel the quiver in Kara's body, and Alex watches as she reaches up to grip Kara's arm, cupping the back of her hand.

"Kara?" Lena tries to whisper, her voice muffled against Kara's chest.

"It's okay," she soothes; but her attempt at a smile is ragged, painful, and she has to tuck her lips between her teeth to try and hide just how much as tears finally slip free, falling onto her suit and into Lena's hair..."I'm still here."

For a moment longer, Kara just holds her, lets her hand rise and fall with the breathes Lena takes just a few more times before her shoulders loosen a bit, and she pulls one of her hands away hesitantly, wiping her cheek with a shaky palm, ash, and soot streaking down across her jaw.

"I-I need you to take a look at her. She, she's bleeding. And she hit her head when I, when the...I tried to shield her, but we-we were still too close and...and.."

"I'm okay," Lena looks up at the both of them, gripping the back of Kara's hand again when her words start to spiral, "Just, just uh hurts to breathe a bit still."

And Alex can't help but laugh a little. The three of them are going to have a talk about the actual definition of both "fine" and "okay" when this is all over.

She glances up briefly at Kara and then back to Lena's half lidded gaze.

"How about I take a look anyway? At least at that hole in your side, Kara is currently holding together so we can make sure you don't bleed all over the van when Kelly gets here, huh? We can wait to deal with that big brain of yours until we get back."

Lena rolls her eyes at the look on Alex's face but still can't stop herself from wincing as she tries to shift a little in Kara's arms.

"Where are the others?" And Alex knows Kara's getting nervous, knows like her, that more people will be here soon and that more people will mean more questions they don't have answers to yet — mean more expectation for her to be stronger than she can possibly be right now.

"They are containing the last of the phantoms, now that...with the orb gone..."

And Alex doesn't know why she can't just say it. Can't just say that with Lex and finally dead, there's no one to control them anymore. Maybe it's because he died 50 feet from where they're sitting. Maybe it's because even after everything she knows he was still Lena's brother. Maybe it's because she knows Kara is the one who killed him. Maybe it's because neither one of them deserves to feel any kind of burden for his death.

Instead, she takes Kara's hand in hers and, as gently as she dares, eases it away, wishing there was more of this day she could take from her too.

"I'm just going to look, and then we're going to get out of here, okay?"

"Yeah," Lena's voice is weak, and it stutters a little as she tries not to lean back into Kara when Alex lifts up the torn edges of her shirt.

Kara squeezes her hand again, "You're doing good."

Alex quickly realizes that Kara's efforts haven't been able to stop the flow of blood from the puncture, but also, thankfully, that it's not nearly as bad as it could be.

"We've just got to put a pressure dressing on this. Then I promise we'll make it good as new with some stitches."

Lena nods as she tries her best to stay still as the pain forces her body to attention.

"Alright, just keep this there for a second, Okay?" she says, gently placing Kara's hand back to Lena's side so she can hold the gauze.

Alex reaches back into the first aid kit at her side and then carefully cleans around the area best she can before securing the dressing in place.

She leans back on her heels and runs her palms along her thighs to try and settle that slight tremor that has come back once more.

"Okay, it's not pretty, and it's going to hurt, but it'll do."

Lena nods again but makes no move to sit up further or move from Kara's arms; the ups and downs of adrenaline are a hell of a thing.

The watch on Alex's wrist beeps, telling her Kelly is a minute out, and she doesn't want to push them, but they really do need to go.

She gives her sister an apologetic look before pulling her jacket off and holding it out like some kind of peace offering.

Kara takes the jacket and wraps it around Lena, keeping it in place as best she can as she helps her sit up.

"I'm sorry," she whispers when Lena squeezes her eyes closed, and Kara looks at Alex again, her eyes pleading with her.

Alex leans in closer to them, and Kara gently guides Lena's hands onto her. She wraps one arm around her waist and lets the other brace itself under her forearm so that she can press into her hand. Alex nods to let her know she's ready and squeezes her hand gently when she feels Lena's fingers grip hers. Slowly Lena, makes it to her feet, careful not to lean into Kara as she pushes herself up. Alex steadies them there, Lena's weight pressing into her until they feel like they can take a couple steps.

"I'm sorry" That's the first thing Lena says when they're far enough for Kara not to hear.

"I know, I know I shouldn't have gone after him alone."

Alex feels her shakes her head, watches as she clenches her jaw.

"He...he said, he said he would kill her if I didn't come."

Lena grips her hand so hard that she can feel her nails digging into her palm. She wishes, just like the guilt she wants to take from Kara, that it could be that easy to take the rest of her pain too.

"Thank you for keeping her safe."

And Alex doesn't know everything that happened. Isn't sure she ever will. Thinks that maybe there are things that only belong to the universe and the people that bore witness to them. But Alex knows that her sister is alive, and she knows that Lena is the reason she is.

"Thank you also for keeping yourself alive."

And that's the other part of it too. Not only because Alex has things left she wants to make right between them, to find the right time and the right words for her own forgiveness with Lena, for their own way back, their own way forward, but because she knows too, that if Lena had died, a part of Kara would have still died just the same.

When Alex gets back to Kara, her head is resting against the wall behind her, her eyes closed. One hand reaches blindly across to her shoulder like it's trying to unclip her cape from its latch, while the other rest across her stomach, fingers opening and closing, as if testing their strength just in case.

"Hey, hey, let me do that."

Alex's hands slide up to Kara's shoulder, but her head tips even further back with a small grunt of protest when she finally reaches where the cape crosses her collarbone. And Alex can feel the break underneath, can see the darkening bruise forming underneath the edge of her suit as the cape pulls away.

She quickly finishes unclips the latches on the other side, letting its full weight fall from her shoulders.

"Keep your arm there."

Alex runs her hands up and down her back, trying to see what else she missed.

"Are your ribs broken too?"

But just as she brings her hand across Kara's chest, she feels it stop. Feels as the too fast rhythm of Kara's heartbeat is replaced by the just barely there of her name.

"Alex?"

She looks down, sees Kara's hand on her wrist. Sees the blood on it — on both of them. Hates this day a little more all over again.

"He's really gone right. I-I told Lena it was over. I told her...Please don't tell me I lied to her again. I told her, I told her, I wouldn't li-lie to, to her again." Kara's voice goes from quiet to quivering, rambling into every next word until her lungs are pulling in more air than they can hold.

Alex opens the hand that's on Kara's chest just enough so that she can feel just the pressure of it, feels her fingers squeeze back just a little.Tries to get her to breathe slower, deeper, tries to think of what the fuck to say. Because goddammit, this isn't how they were supposed to have to get through this. Not with blood still on their hands, not with the ground still broken underneath them. She swore she was going to let Kelly help them do it right this time.

But Kara needs at least this now.

"I-I need you to listen to me okay..." She leans forward just enough that her forhead is resting against Kara's.

She feels Kara take one stuttered breath, then two.

"The heat, the sound from the explosion, that's how Brainy found you, how I knew you were here" — the next two breaths are a little deeper, she tries to ignore the tears that fall onto the back of her hand — "Lena disabled his portal watch. There was nowhere for him to go. When the orb exploded, it took him with it."

When it's done, Kara leans back but she's still holding onto her.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I-she-I had to stop her from doing something stupid."

"Yeah well, I think we can agree you both did something stupid."

"I knew you would come, and I couldn't- I couldn't. Losing one of you feels impossible Alex, but losing both of you feels even more..."

"Hey, Hey...it's okay." Alex squeezes Kara's hand, doesn't let her get too far away inside her own head again.

"But we're going to have to work on that because if you're going to keep wearing that crest, you're going to have to remember what it stands for from time to time right?"

Kara nods. Holds onto Alex's hand even tighter.

"El Mayarah."

"Right, stronger together, so—" Alex loops Kara's still good arm around her shoulder and they stand up together, each balanced against the other —"lets go get you to your girl."

#supercorp #supergirl #ask away friends #happy supercorp sunday #a little bit of protective Alex Danvers for you all too #I missed getting a chance to write that

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mxtantrights · 3 years

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The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.”

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you.

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked.

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite.

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.”

“What are you a fortune cookie?”

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.”

2 DAYS LATER

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.”

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.”

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.”

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.”

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two.

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once.

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally.

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19.

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him. And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest.

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.”

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.”

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh.

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door. And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

#dc x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #dc #nightwing #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd x reader #Jason todd imagine

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saltybaltic · 3 years

Note

hello! if you’re taking requests as of right now, could I request a fic involving an extremely shy avenger!reader having an enormous crush on Nat and it being a running joke among the team because she doesn’t have a clue when it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else? I don’t care how it ends, go wild.... (take that as you will)

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - CONFIDENCE

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: You have a huge crush on one of your team mates but you’re too shy to ever do anything about it. Fortunately, people have noticed and you might be about to get some help.

Warnings: None

Words: 989

“You know she likes you right?”

Natasha’s hands stilled on the keyboard for a second, looking up at her friend with a frown, “Who?”

Scoffing at her answer, Clint took a swig of his coffee before responding, “Who? Like you don’t know.”

“Forgive me, I thought everyone on this team liked me.” shot back Natasha, giving him a sarcastic smile and going back to her work on the laptop.

Clint rolled his eyes and placed his mug on the coffee table, flopping down onto the sofa beside the red head and nudging her computer playfully with his foot to get her attention again, “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“And you’re being deliberately annoying.” muttered Natasha, shifting over slightly on the sofa so she was nestled in the corner out of his reach.

“Fine, you win.” conceded Clint, raising his hands in surrender before reaching for his coffee again, “But you should do something about it and stop letting that poor girl work herself into a fluster around you.”

Of course Natasha knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone on the team seemed to know. In fact the only person who didn’t seem to realise you had a huge crush on The Black Widow was, well, you.

You had always been shy, and although joining The Avengers had succeeded in bringing you out of your shell a little, there was still certain social situations that you just couldn’t handle very well. So it was no surprise that when a beautiful woman flirted with you on occasion, you tended to find yourself reduced to a blushing, bumbling mess.

Natasha wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t deliberately toying with you or taking any pleasure in your squirming. Okay maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Did she find it cute when you would duck your head and fumble over your words whenever she sent a flirtatious comment your way? A little. But she wasn’t doing it to mess with you. She wanted to challenge you, encourage you, dare you to make a move. Because despite what you might be willing to believe, she liked you too. Ever since you had joined the team she had become quite fond of you, finding your quick wit, humour and kindness to others rather endearing. She saw the way you interacted with the others; laughing and making jokes, teasing one another playfully, and generally looking after each other. You had become something of a weakness of hers, finding her eyes drawn to you around the compound and just watching from a distance. All Natasha wanted was for you to finally gather the courage to interact with her in the same way, and she definitely wasn’t the only one on the team that was desperate for you to realise you had a crush.

At much the same time as Clint was questioning Natasha upstairs, you found yourself being given the workout of your life in the gym with Steve. Now they weren’t exactly giving out slots on the team to anyone off the street so you knew you possessed some desirable abilities, but going toe to toe with Captain America was a challenge for anyone on their best day.

Gesturing with your hands for a time out, you sucked in a breath and gripped your waist where you could feel a stitch forming, “Jesus Steve, let’s take five, you’re kicking my ass.”

“You’re doing great though.” encouraged Steve with a small chuckle, tossing you a water bottle from the corner of the gym mat, “I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You shrugged, “Well as the newest team member, I feel I had some catching up to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, you’re already where you need to be.” reassured Steve, walking closer as he seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding to speak, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more self confidence.”

“I have enough confidence.”

Steve nodded slowly, obviously not wanting to cross a line but still wanting to say something, “Around me? Sure. But you should be more confident around others.”

“Like who?” you asked, watching Steve carefully over your water bottle as you took a few gulps.

“Like Natasha.”

You almost choked on your water, “W-Why ... errr ... why do you say that?”

“You like her, right?”

Scratching at the back of your neck uncomfortably, you tossed the drink to one side, “That’s enough of a break, let’s go again.”

“Hey.” Steve grabbed your arm to stop you from heading back into the centre of the mat and offered a reassuring smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Try not to be so shy around her, she’s not as scary as she’d have you believe. Plus, between you and me? I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“I don’t ...” you trailed off in thought for a second. Did you like Natasha? You definitely admired her. You envied her confidence and sass. She was an impressive woman, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. And you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and flattered whenever she would flirt with you. It drove you crazy with frustration how shy you could be around her and that you were never able to say or do anything in response. It wasn’t lack of desire that was stopping you, of course you wanted to flirt back with her. Who wouldn’t?

A frown started to develop on your face the longer you thought about it, realisation suddenly dawning on you. It was so obvious now. You didn’t just admire Natasha, Steve was right - you did like her.

He seemed to see the lightbulb moment as it unfolded, patting you on the shoulder reassuringly with a small laugh as he motioned you back towards where you had been sparring, “Don’t worry about it, just something to think about. Now come on, show me what you’re made of.”

You let yourself process the discussion with Steve for a few days, keeping mostly to yourself as you thought about it in depth. You almost felt stupid for taking so long to realise, so much of the past few weeks making sense now. There had been more than a few occasions where a team mate had made a teasing comment, all in good fun of course, about your blushes and stuttering around Natasha. You had assumed it was just banter amongst friends about your chronic shyness but now it was painfully obvious that you were the last person in the building to realise you had a crush on Natasha.

Although you had given yourself adequate time to consider your revelation, you hadn’t exactly formulated a plan to deal with it. Unfortunately it seemed that you weren’t going to be given any more time to come up with something, when your quiet evening alone on the sofa was interrupted by the very woman who had been consuming your thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Natasha, plonking herself down on the sofa beside you without waiting for a response.

Shifting your attention from the movie on the television, you looked across at the other woman and swallowed, already feeling your mouth becoming dry as you silently shook your head.

“What you watching?”

You blinked, taking a moment to inhale a calming breath and internally encouraging yourself before engaging your brain to speak, “I-I don’t know really, it was just on and I kind of got sucked in.”

Natasha nodded, glancing at the television briefly as she leaned back against the sofa. Her arm lay across the cushions, bent at the elbow as she raised her hand and rested her chin on it. Her eyes drifted back to meet yours, watching you carefully, “The boys say I make you nervous. Is that true?”

Panic.

Your first instinct was to run, heart hammering against your rib cage as for the first time, Natasha put you on the spot. You could already feel the heat rising in your cheeks and there was a distinct possibility your palms were sweating.

“I errr ...” you took another breath to compose yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to remain calm, “I suppose it is, yeah.”

Natasha’s lips turned up slightly at that, her chin still balanced on her hand as she studied you, “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I shouldn’t?”

Shaking her head, Natasha broke out into a proper smile, “I mean don’t get me wrong, you look cute when you’re nervous.”

At her comment you had to look away, biting down on your lip and pressing the back of your hand to your cheek to confirm the fact that yes, you were definitely getting flushed now.

Natasha chuckled quietly, “Yeah, there it is.”

Hoping to take Steve’s advice and scrambling for all the courage you could muster, you looked back at the other woman and cocked your head curiously, “Do you just enjoy toying with me or ...?”

“Or what?” asked Natasha, the subtle smirk on her face suggesting she knew exactly what you were asking. After a few seconds of silence, she took the initiative and filled in the blanks for you, not wanting to put you on the spot too much given that this was already the longest the two of you had ever spoken, “I’m not toying with you ... I was just trying to gauge whether the rumours were true and if I should ask you out on a date.”

You had to fight not to gasp in surprise, sure that it would probably be the most embarrassing response you could have, “A ... a date? With me?”

“Well I don’t see anyone else around.” joked Natasha, gesturing around the empty room, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Shaking your head perhaps a little too eagerly, you turned your body to face her properly, “No that. Um. That would be nice.”

“Great.” answered Natasha, shooting you a reassuring smile as she went to get up from the sofa, “How does tomorrow night sound?”

“I ... that would. Err. Sure. Tomorrow. Good. Yes.” you could barely speak now, sure this must be some kind of fever dream and it couldn’t actually be happening.

Natasha simply laughed, standing up and leaning over to squeeze your shoulder gently before turning to make her way out of the room, “Yeah you’re still cute. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Unable to do or say anything else, you silently watched her walk away, unable to quite believe what had just unfolded. Natasha Romanoff had asked you out on a date.

As if finally realising what had just happened, you couldn’t help but break out into a smile. If it meant Natasha had finally asked you out, maybe all that teasing from the rest of the team had been good for something after all.

#Natasha Romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow #black widow x reader #Natasha Romanoff fanfiction

581 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk.

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves.

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger.

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them.

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool.

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds.

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him.

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern.

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug.

But Dick still took it that way.

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family.

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome.

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point.

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 7 #bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #batboys #batfam #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

419 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

accident prone ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1500

request?: yes!

“Hi love! Can I request something for Colson Baker where you’re like a college student who’s shadowing at a hospital and colson has to come in because he was stupid and injured himself on set for a music video and he flirts with you?”

description: on her first day of doing actual hands on learning, she ends up meeting a celebrity

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

After years of all nighters, stressful exams, and more procrastination than I care to admit, I was finally taking a giant step forward in my life towards my career: I was starting my first day as an intern at the hospital.

I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy job, I had been warned of this basically once a week since I had started school, but all I wanted to do was help people however I could. Plus, I had a strong stomach, so the gore would never affect me at least.

I tried not to seem too excited as I was assigned a nurse to follow for the day and given my list of tasks. Luckily, though, my mentor for the day seemed very sweet and understanding of my excitement, unlike some of the other mentor nurses.

I had just sat down for the first time in hours when my pager began to beep. I raced to find my mentor, who was stood outside of a room with the windows covered.

“How do you feel about practicing your stitches and bandaging, kid?” she asked as I approached.

“I haven’t done much of either yet,” I responded. “Should I really be practicing on a patient?”

“You can on this one. He’s a regular.”

I stepped into the room and immediately understood why the windows were covered. Sat on the able in front of me, cradling his hand in a blood stained cloth while trying to also hold a cloth to his bloody nose, was none other than Machine Gun Kelly.

“I was wondering where Diane went,” he commented, referring to my mentor. “You must be the new girl.”

“One of many,” I confirmed. “I’m (Y/N). You’re familiar with this place I take it.”

“I’d say I’m accident prone, but that’d be an understatement,” he responded.

I pulled on my surgical gloves and gestured to his hand. “Let me see the damage then.”

He held out his hand to me and I saw the giant gash on his palm. I started by cleaning the area, causing him to flinch slightly. He showed not an ounce of pain as I began to carefully stitch his hand.

“So, how did you manage to do this?” I asked.

“I may have been playing with knives,” he responded. I gave him a quick look before turning back to his hand. “I grabbed it by the blade without realizing.”

“You definitely cut it deep,” I told him. “Did that have anything to do with your nose?”

He shook his head, but paused as he did. “Maybe. One of my friends and I were fighting and he punched me in the nose. I reached for the knife to try to throw it at him.”

I looked back up at him with wide eyes. “You tried to throw a knife at your friend?!”

“I thought it was a fake one!” he tried to defend himself. “We were filming a music video with fake pocket knives and one of them was placed on the props table next to someone’s real pocket knife. I went to pick it up to throw it thinking it was fake and I ended up grabbing the blade of the real one instead.”

I shook my head at him and continued his stitches. “Why was there a real, open pocket knife next to a fake one?”

“I don’t know, man, someone took it out and left it I guess. Shit happens.”

I knew very little about Machine Gun Kelly. His music wasn’t exactly the type I listened to, but hearing him talking about fighting with his friends and throwing knives as if it were no big deal really told me all I had to know about him.

I finished his stitches and went to wrap the wound in some gaze. “Do I need to explain the healing process for stitches to you?”

“No,” he responded. “I’ve been told quite a few times.”

“I’d imagine.” When I finished with his hand, I gestured to his nose. “Does that need to be looked at, too?”

“I think it’s okay. He didn’t break it, just made it bleed a little.”

“I’ll look at it anyways, just to be sure.”

I took the cloth from his hand and put a hand under his chin to tilt his head back slightly. It certainly didn’t look broken, and I didn’t think he would need an x-ray to make sure. I’d ask Diane about it before he left just to be sure, but everything looked fine.

“I’ll clean you up,” I told him. I crossed over to the nearby sink and wet down a cloth with warm water.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m going to. Might as well, I have a feeling it won’t go over well if you walk out of here with blood pooling down your nose.”

He chuckled as I took his chin in my hand again and began cleaning the mostly dried blood off of his nose. I tried to be as gentle as possible, making sure that if he did have anything wrong that I didn’t irritate it more.

As I cleaned his nose, I noticed him gazing up at me. The windows pointing outside were open, and it was a beautiful sunny day. The sunlight came into the room and lit up his already bright blue eyes in the most beautiful way. I found myself trailing off from what I was doing to get lost in his eyes instead.

“Are you done?” he asked, giving me an amused look. For a moment, I thought he was referring to me staring into his eyes for so long, until I realized I was just resting the wet cloth against his nose.

“N-Not yet,” I stuttered.

I discarded the cloth into the nearby hamper once I finished and pulled off my surgical gloves to wash my hands. He stood from the table, stretching his body out from sitting around for so long. I had a feeling he was not a guy that was used to just sitting in one spot for too long.

“So, are you going to be here long?” he asked. “Just wondering if I should prepare to get acquainted with you or not.”

“Well, I don’t plan on leaving. I plan on staying here and becoming a nurse once my training is over,” I responded. “But I can’t promise you I’ll be the one looking after you all the time when you come in.”

“Maybe I’ll specifically request for you to look after me when I come in.”

I shot him a playful look over my shoulder. “What if I’m busy with another patient?”

“I can wait.”

I giggled at this, something that was very unlike me, but how can you not giggle when an incredibly hot rock star is (kind of?) flirting with you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t turn down patients,” I said. “It’ll literally keep me in a job.”

“Exactly! I could singlehandedly keep you employed all on my own, so you shouldn’t turn me away.”

I smiled at this and shook my head. “Well, we’ll see how things go. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll become your nurse.”

I was about to head out the door, but his hand pushed the door closed, stopping me before I could. I turned to look at him, confused.

“Well,” he started, “maybe, just in case I can’t have you as my nurse again, we could exchange numbers and keep in touch that way.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to hit on me Machine Gun Kelly?”

“Colson,” he corrected. “That’s my real name, it’s Colson.”

“Colson,” I tried. The name felt right coming from my lips, and I could tell he thought the same because his face brightened when I said it. “Well, if you’d like to keep in touch, I suppose I could give you my number.”

Colson was so excited by my response that he nearly dropped his phone trying to get it from his pocket. I chuckled and took his phone, putting my name and number into his contacts and passing it back to him.

“Watch your stitches,” I warned him before finally walking out of the room.

I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as I walked to the receptionists desks, where some of the other nurses and training students were stood around talking. Diane noticed me first and immediately broke from her group.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Went perfect!” I told her. “I stitched up his hand and checked his nose. No sign of breakage, and he seems to know how to deal with stitches.”

“He’s more stitch and tattoo than man at this point,” she joked. “Good on you, kid. That’s your first big patient in the bag.”

I looked over my shoulder to the room where I had left Colson and smiled to myself. My first patient definitely went better than I could’ve ever expected.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #estxx #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 2

First part

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades

Tim wheeled his bike into the alleyway nearby and set the alarm to call him if someone messed with it beyond the normal ‘must touch cool thing’ instincts.

Once he was sure that his bike couldn’t be easily stolen, he turned back to where Marinette was waiting for him.

She struggled with her phone with her gloved fingers. His lips twitched into a grin and he took a moment to school his face into a neutral expression before he started over.

After a second, her head turned to look at him and she flashed a wink, pocketing her phone.

“Cheers!” She chirped, flashing him a wave.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her behind his domino mask. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s a British thing.”

He could only see the top half of her face, and yet he was sure she was pouting. “Kwami, this is Canada French all over again.”

“Canada --?”

“They speak the language all wrong,” she said, as if that made it make more sense.

“I feel like you’re implying that I speak English wrong.”

“Would you rather I say it outright? ‘Cheers’ is a cute word and it sucks that Americans don’t use it.”

“Is this really a hill you’re going to die on?”

“Not just a hill I’m going to die on, it’s the hill.”

He scoffed lightly at that, then turned to get the door for her. The moment they stepped inside they tensed. The silent stares pressed in on them on all sides and he felt Marinette shuffle just the slightest bit closer to him as they took their place in line. The Gothamites continued watching them -- no, they were watching her -- warily, and of course they were (new people in costumes usually meant pain for them).

Well, he could assure them she was safe, at least.

He slowly, carefully, threw his arm over his shoulders. Marinette’s hand twitched towards the arm on instinct to throw him off, but otherwise she didn’t give much indication that what was going on was weird. There were a few more tense seconds before people turned back to what they were doing, visibly relieved by the fact that she was apparently on the good side. Chatter started back up.

Marinette relaxed slightly under his arm and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Kwami, I forgot how much being a new hero sucks.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected her absently.

She rolled her eyes. “At least try and make it sound like you’re not a cop with a bird theme.”

He sputtered, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

She rested her hands on her hips.

“We break laws!”

She snickered. “So do cops.”

Tim… didn’t have a retort for that. Luckily, he didn’t need to have one, because it was their turn to order. Neither of them hesitated and within a minute they had their drinks and were out the door. They waved for the few cameras pointed at them on their way out, false smiles lighting up their faces, and then quickly ducked back into the alleyway to have their drinks in privacy.

“I’m going to start going places as Red Robin more often since it seems to mean I’ll get served quicker,” joked Tim as he leaned against the wall.

She gave him a puff of laughter and then pulled the bottom of her mask up to take a sip of her caramel frappe. He watched her expression for a moment and then decided that it must have been good because she didn’t instantly recoil. He pulled his coffee to his lips and took a confident gulp, only to choke.

“Shit,” he hissed, fighting the urge to spit it out.

Now that he knew what to look for he could see the pain behind her eyes.

“It’s really bad,” she informed him, purposefully just a moment too late in her warning.

He huffed a little, looking at the cup in his hand. It’s an iced coffee! How do you even mess that up?

There was a beat as the two vigilantes considered their options, before giving each other shrugs and downing their drinks. It may have been bad, but at least it was caffeinated. Marinette, lucky her, had an easier time of it because she’d gotten whipped cream with hers. He was tempted to snatch the drink from her hands to have something to wash down the cup threatening to sully the good name of coffee for him…

But he didn’t have to. She smiled and offered him the last of her whipped cream. He squinted at it suspiciously as if expecting it to be poisoned. After the coffee incident just a moment before he wasn’t about to take any chances.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s actually good, promise.”

“If you’re lying I’m taking back vouching for you to Batman,” he told her.

Her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“I’m serious! If it’s terrible I’m marching back to the Batcave --!”

“All the way back?”

“Yes! All the way back to the Batcave! And I’m going to revoke my vouching!”

“Oh noooooo, not the vouching!” She said, bringing her hands to her cheeks in mock terror. When he continued to ‘glare’ at her she snickered and assured him that: “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure it’s from a can.”

He squinted at her, because canned whipped cream was still far below his normal standard, but he did end up taking it. It was… okay.

“See? Not poisoned.”

“Very suspicious thing to say unprompted but okay.”

She grinned, reaching over to swipe some cream off his nose. “You’ll die in exactly four hours”

He rolled his eyes. “Hm. I guess I should go home and work on making an antidote, then.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. I’ll see you later.” She leaned forward and pressed her mask to his cheek in a sort of kiss before heading off.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself. He leaned back against his motorbike absently, thinking.

Well, he supposed he didn’t need to watch her to make sure she was safe anymore. She was Ladybug, she could take care of herself in a fight…

But then a thought occurred to him: she couldn’t detect him when he had been watching her earlier. He bit his lip anxiously. Sure, he was trained to evade detection but did he really want to chance it? In a place like Gotham the ability to tell when you’re being watched is an absolute must.

Okay. Fine. He’d watch her just a little longer…

Marinette frowned when her phone rang while she was doing some late-night work.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, M’lady?”

A wide grin stretched across her face and she fell back in her bed. “Chaton! And here I was thinking you would never call!”

Adrien laughed. “Well, our time zones don’t exactly match up and I forgot that your sleep schedule is less of a schedule and more of a suggestion.”

“Fuck you, too, then.”

He laughed and she could hear him shifting around on the other side. She heard him zip something up on the other side and she lit up. “When’re you coming over?” He sighed and that was all it took to let her know that he had bad news. The momentary silence afterwards as he tried to figure out what to say was a good indication, too.

“I can’t, unfortunately. The Son of Hawkmoth moving away right after he gets jailed isn’t a good look. The United States Government isn’t that eager to have me, either.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Just steal the horse miraculous from Fu and come over illegally.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no, straight up disappearing is even more suspicious, thanks.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed that made sense…

She pulled her cat plush over so she could rest her head against it. “It’s so boring without you.”

“You’re making new friends, right?” He questioned, concerned. “I saw on the news that you’ve met the other vigilantes already.”

“Yeah, I guess… but they clearly don’t trust me.”

“Well, did you trust me when we started out?”

“No…”

“So give them time. They’ll realize you’re the best person on Earth soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, obviously. They’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Well, one of them is called Batman --.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

He laughed at her and she smiled as she burrowed into her plush.

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“Anytime. Now, go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up on him without promising him anything.

He leaned against the concrete of the roof, head on his arms to prevent scratching up his chin as he watched her through the window. He kind of worried about her having the blinds open like that, anyone could look in at her, but at least she closed it at night.

Still, he couldn’t deny that it certainly made things easier for him. She did most things by window light -- to save electricity, he theorized -- so he didn’t have to work all that hard to keep track of her.

Currently, she was working on stitching some pieces of an outfit. Her tongue poked out of her mouth a little when she concentrated, he had learned. A tiny part of him wondered if she did that as Ladybug, too, and he just couldn’t see it under her mask.

He kind of wished he could ask. Maybe one day he would (if they ever got close enough for him to reveal he’d been watching her without her knowledge, of course).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts, and he groaned to himself as he synced his earbuds and picked up.

“Yeah, B, what do you need?”

Listen, Marinette liked her job. She had the privilege of designing most of the outfits she did and that was a lot of fun -- certainly more fun than working solely on commissions -- but… sometimes she just wants to be told what to do. Artist’s Block is real and it fucking sucks.

Thankfully, Gotham gave quite a bit of inspiration. The difference between Gotham and Paris was striking. Paris was pristine; lots of tourists meant keeping the city in a constant state of newness, all bright colors and surfaces so clean you can see your reflection in them. Gotham, on the other hand, felt exceptionally lived in; graffiti, decaying buildings, cracked sidewalks…

She found a nice vantage point that overlooked the city and looked out over the horizon. That was another difference between the two: the height of buildings in Gotham was far more varied than those of Paris. It was more interesting to look at, she thought.

(It had been a point of annoyance at night as she could no longer jump from rooftop to rooftop with ease, but that’s not the point here.)

Maybe she could do something inspired by all the different heights. Audrey would probably like a dress like that.

She smiled walking to a nearby gargoyle. Red graffiti dubbed them Charlie, and who was she to not use his preferred name?

“Hello, Charlie, may I sit on you?” She joked quietly.

Charlie did not answer, not that she really expected him to.

She perched herself on the gargoyle’s back and pulled her sketchbook from a secret pocket in her leather jacket. She hummed tunelessly as she sketched out the shape.

Layers of different lengths -- and different colors, too, of course, she thought as she pulled out some colored pens (what’s the point of different layers if you don’t make it rainbow?) -- and oh it definitely had to trail a little in the back for the drama…

Artist’s block hit her like a too-high wall on patrols as she stared at where the bodice needed to be. What should she do? Obviously it needed to be relatively simple otherwise she risked the dress being an eyesore but…

It was just her luck that the moment she came to a decision about what to do for the bodice and accessories is the moment the first water droplet hit her sketchbook. She pulled her gaze to the sky and noticed the storm cloud overhead.

Shit, it was starting to rain.

She looked back down at her sketchbook, irritation spiking under her skin.

Option one: tough it out and continue drawing so she doesn’t risk forgetting the idea she’d had.

Option two: don’t risk her outfit (or her health, she guessed) and just head inside like a sane person.

… Marinette chose option one. She wouldn’t be herself without the occasional bad decision.

She drew her jacket over her head and hunched over her sketchbook as she continued sketching out her design.

Except, after a few minutes, she didn’t feel the beat of the rain on her jacket. She blinked a few times because she could still hear the rain nearby and she started to wonder if she had died somehow before she caught the sound of someone moving just out of her seeing range.

She turned her head to see a man holding an umbrella over her head, her jacket falling back to rest on her shoulders.

She gave him a once over. It was a little paranoid, she could admit, but she was in Gotham; it paid to be cautious. He was wearing a thick trench coat and gloves, which was a big red flag. He also had open posture -- more open than was natural, actually -- what with his slight slouch and hands spread wide in a somewhat placating gesture. The only good thing was that he was keeping a respectful distance, even standing a bit in the rain in order to avoid crowding her.

… well, he had an umbrella, at least.

She gripped the gargoyle tighter with her legs just in case he decided he wanted to try and push her, then turned to face him more.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

“You know, it’s illegal to be up here,” he said, flashing her an almost blindingly white smile.

She grinned. “You’re breaking the law, too, then.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She reached a pinky out and, after a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture.

Deal made, he wiped some of the water away with gloved fingers and took a seat beside her.

He clearly trusted her more than she trusted him, even allowing his legs to hang over the side of the building. She wondered why, vaguely, but she couldn’t exactly go and ask...

So, instead she smiled and said: “Thanks for the help. Water stains are a bitch to get out of leather.”

“You’re welcome, but I really can’t believe you went out without an umbrella in this city of all places.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little new here, to be honest.”

She watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes. The man frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m not stupid enough to genuinely tell someone that. I was just going for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl aesthetic.”

His shoulders relaxed in a way that would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t been trained to check body language. She let herself relax her grip on the gargoyle a little as well; he had been concerned about her right then, he was probably pretty safe. Safe enough to not strain her legs too much, at least.

“Well, I do like your aesthetic,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “The Manic Pixie Dream Girl stuff, my outfit, or what I’m drawing?”

“All of it. But mostly the outfit.”

She felt a faint blush rise to her face but she brushed him off with a: “Yeah, thanks, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a guy in a trenchcoat.”

He gasped and brought his free hand to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, this is peak Gotham fashion!”

“It’s shady, that’s what it is.”

“That’s what Gotham fashion is!”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she tried. And she did try.

Her gaze fell back to her work and she sighed as she pulled out her pens and started working on finishing up her sketch.

“So, what’re you up here for?” She asked because she didn’t want to risk him getting bored and leaving with the umbrella.

“Hm? Oh, I do photography in my spare time. Figured I’d scope out some new areas.”

“Know all the best places in Gotham?”

“You have no idea.” The man flashed her a grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone in person, though, so I figured I’d get some update shots.”

“Well, if we both need to go sightseeing around Gotham for our things, why not do it together?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she could see the way his lips twitched downwards with concern. “Trust me that much already? We’ve just met.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy...” She smirked. “And I could totally beat your ass.”

He scoffed and unbuttoned his trenchcoat to prove to her that he did, in fact, have muscles hidden beneath all those layers and she laughed before she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

Holy shit. She’d made that shirt. He was wearing one of her shirts. She could see the gold stitching partially hidden beneath his collar, and fuck maybe she was concerned about all the wrong things.

Her eyes narrowed in on him just slightly. He clearly wasn’t actively hiding the shirt and didn’t seem concerned that he had shown her, which meant he:

a) didn’t know she was MDC,

b) saw her as just another artist,

or c) was showing her on purpose so she could make an informed decision about being his friend.

So… he didn’t seem to be a threat to her.

Maybe she could do some checking up on him, though, just to be safe.

She smiled. “I realize I never got your name. Probably would be a problem if we’re going to be spending more time together from now on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone if you don’t even know their name. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

He remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what that meant -- or if it meant anything at all, for that matter.

She pulled out her phone and offered it to him, taking the umbrella so he could type his number in with both hands. That done, she stuck the phone back in her pocket and smiled up at him.

“I’m stealing your umbrella, by the way,” she informed him, grip tightening on the handle in case he tried to take it back from her.

He grinned and made no move to do so. “If you must. Can you at least walk me inside the building before you run off with it?”

She giggled. “I guess I can do that, yes.”

It had been a long time since Tim had fanboyed this hard.

If he was any younger, he would have fallen back on his bed and squealed like a person in those old movies. As it were, he still wore a dopey smile.

He had MDC’s number! And not her work number, because he’d already had that, this was her real number!

And, even cooler, she might just let him go with her to get inspiration! Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to watch one of their favorite artists do their thing?!

… oh, yeah, also the protection thing, obviously. That was the whole reason he was doing this, after all.

It would be so much easier to protect her if he went out with her on these excursions. Just being around men tended to ward off potential assailants. It was perfect!

Which meant he wouldn’t have any reason to follow her for her own protection anymore…

Wait, what about when she needed to go out for chores like groceries? She’d still need to be safe for that! Gotham is a scary place! What if someone tried to follo -- what if someone tried to mug her or something dangerous like that? No, she still needed his help!

Yeah, no, he has to do this. It’s for her own safety.

#haha this took forever dont @ me #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #stalker x stalker

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paperpocalypse · 3 years

Text

seam.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 34. Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,331 words

Warning: Swearing

[A/N: Takes place sometime before blink of an eye.]

You have a favorite hoodie. Five – and everyone else – knows it’s your favorite because you wear it every night and any other time you don’t have to wear the uniform; you had been wearing it when you first set foot into the academy, and you still wear it now, no matter how worn out it’s gotten. And it’s worn. The Eiffel Tower printed onto the front is cracked and faded, the elbows patched up because the fabric there had been scuffed thin.

By all accounts, you should probably get a new one. But Five knows that you won’t because you’re a sentimental person, and that ancient article of clothing has some sentimental value that he will probably never understand.

With this in mind, it’s no wonder that tragedy should befall your precious hoodie at some point, that point being today.

“It ripped.”

Your tone is sullen as you hold your hoodie out, showing Five where the top seam of the front pocket had torn. The flap of fabric hangs on by an inch of intact stitching.

Glancing down at the damage and then back up at your forlorn expression, Five wonders why you had specifically gone to him about this. “How’d that happen?” he questions.

You twist your mouth, rocking back on your heels. “… I pull on the pocket sometimes,” you admit. “And I guess I pulled too hard this time.”

Five nods slowly. It would be a lie to say that he’s surprised, but he finds himself unwilling to give you shit over it. “Our mom can fix it for you,” he points out, uncrossing his legs.

“I know, but she’s recharging,” you murmur, lowering your arms until the sleeves of your hoodie touch the floor. “And my mom’s gonna be here soon.”

Which means …?

“You want me to hold onto it,” Five guesses, “and give it to my mom so she can fix it over the weekend.”

Your expression lights up, though you seem apologetic as well. “Yeah. If that’s okay with you? I asked Klaus, but he told me to ask you instead because he’ll probably forget.”

Good idea. “Sounds about right,” he responds wryly. Standing up, Five holds out his hands, and you carefully place your hoodie in them. “I’ll take it to her.”

Based on the blinding smile on your face, one would think that he just agreed to babysit your firstborn child. “You’re a lifesaver, Five. Thank you.”

He nods again. From the stairs, Klaus shouts your name, and after one last fervent ‘thank you,’ you turn on your heel and run out of the living room to rejoin him. Five listens as the two of you race up the stairs, loud as usual, then looks down at the bundle of cloth now in his possession.

The fabric is soft and light against his fingers – nothing like the starched stiffness of the academy uniform. He scrutinizes the torn pocket again, pressing it back into place. Mom could fix this easily …

—

As soon as noon hits the next day, Five takes your hoodie and blinks to the mezzanine where Mom is.

“Mom.”

She looks up from her work – it’s a cross stitch of a bundle of roses, all sunny yellow with pink edges – and smiles at him, unstartled by his sudden appearance. (She never is.) “Five!” she chirps, tilting her head. “What is it?”

He shows Mom the pocket. Her beam immediately turns into a worried frown, and she sets down her cross stitch to lift up the drooping fabric.

“Oh, dear.” She runs her thumb along the torn edge. “This is [Y/n]’s favorite sweatshirt, isn’t it?”

“You can fix it, right?”

She takes the hoodie from him, inspecting everything. A hum leaves her throat, and then she smiles again, nodding happily. “Of course,” she assures him. “It’ll be as good as new! Oh, and I could clean it properly, too.”

You’d appreciate that. The edges of the cuffs could use a proper cleaning, given that they’re supposed to be yellow, not grey. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, Five,” Mom says warmly, standing up.

She waltzes past him, heading down the stairs and towards the sewing room; and although Five knows that he should very well get going with his own business, he follows her, having an inexplicable need to keep track of what you had entrusted him with. (Well, not completely inexplicable. He’s responsible.)

There’s nothing extraordinary about the sewing room because it doesn’t have to be. He’s only been here a handful of times in the past, each of them for measurements so Mom and a tailor could make new uniforms and pajamas as he grew out of his old ones; upon glancing around, he sees that it hasn’t changed since then. Aside from the general organized array of sewing materials and tools, there are two large tables and two sewing machines, as well as eight mannequins, the shapes of which resemble himself, his siblings, and you.

Seating herself at one of the tables, Mom lays your hoodie down and smooths out the folds and wrinkles. “Five,” she calls him from the doorway, picking up a small, lumpy green pincushion that looks suspiciously handmade, “Could you be a dear and look for the yellow thread in that bin?”

Five silently obliges, then grabs a chair to sit near the sewing machine.

He watches as Mom makes careful but prompt work of pinning the pocket back on. Then she moves to set up the sewing machine, threading it and choosing the right stitch length and all of those things that Five hadn’t cared to know about before; now, however, he sees why someone might find this appealing. It’s methodical and practical, this sewing machine. Subconsciously, he leans in further to see how it works.

Mom lifts up the little metal foot below the needle, sliding your hoodie underneath until the pocket’s lined up just so. She presses the foot pedal, and the machine hums as she begins to sew the fabric back into place.

However, once she gets about halfway through, she stops.

When Five looks at her to see why, Mom smiles at him. “Would you like to try, Five?” she asks.

Hm. Well, it doesn’t seem difficult.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

—

“Five!”

Five looks up from his book as you bound into the living room, swathed in your newly repaired hoodie. You come to a stop in front of the sofa and tug at the bottom of the sweatshirt to show him the attached pocket.

“Look, she fixed it!” you exclaim. “And it’s so clean.”

“I can see that.”

You grin broadly as you stuff your hands into the kangaroo pocket, seeming to revel in the soft fabric. Your strange enthusiasm is almost palpable, and as it sinks in that you’re pleased with the result, Five feels a sense of satisfaction.

And that doesn’t make complete sense to him, because of course you’d be pleased. It’s ridiculously hard to disappoint you.

“You’re lucky to have such a cool mom, Five,” you continue. “She can do everything. And she’s nice, like, all the time.”

There’s a reason for that. “She’s a robot,” Five reminds you.

You pout. “Well – yeah, I know, but that doesn’t make her any less cool. It makes her even cooler, actually …”

Trailing off, you tilt your head at him, seemingly lost in thought. Five is slightly unsettled by the pensive look in your eyes, but he holds your gaze, unwilling to be the one to break contact. It’s a hidden relief when you shake your head.

“Ugh. Sorry, I spaced out. Thanks for looking after it for me, Five.”

“You’re welcome.”

You hug him briefly and bid him good night, then saunter off in your hoodie, humming some off-key tune of which he doesn’t know the origin. Five settles back and opens his book once more, locating his half-finished note in the margins.

For some reason, your smile sticks in his mind for the rest of the night.

#wordless ways to say i love you #source: @50-item-writing-prompts #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy #tua #five x reader #five imagine #tua fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #tua grace #i've used a sewing machine like once in my life and that was years ago lol #blarrrgh this is ooc i know but five n grace having mother-son time made me soft #anyway #magneticverse

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Encounters Pt 2

pairing: dick grayson x reader, reader doesn’t know he’s nighwing yet

warning: nothing

a/n: this fic is for the lovely @daintykeith who requested this from me literally like a month ago - i didn’t expect to get as busy as i did, but thank you so much for your patience and i hope you enjoy it!!

part 1

There was a new hero in town. And he went by the name Nightwing.

It wasn’t surprising to you in the least, you had practically predicted a hero sauntering into Bludhaven since the very first day you moved there. In a city as messed up as it was, there was no chance some latex-clad figure with a hero-complex could pass it up—after all, Bludhaven gave Gotham a run for its money.

What was surprising to you was the fact that you had run into this new hero on more than one occasion, and by this point, it was starting to seem less and less like a mere coincidence.

“I’m serious—I’ve been seeing this guy everywhere,” you began in disbelief as the blurry image of a man in a blue and black suit flashed across the TV screen, some blonde news anchor discussing the subject with notable interest while Dick Grayson laughed beside you on your couch. “It’s been, what, a month? And every other time I turn on GBS, they’re still talking about him.”

“It’s that bad?” the man grinned as he watched you fall back down onto the couch beside him, following your rather baleful gaze back to the screen. ��I didn’t even notice it that much, honestly.”

“It’s not even just the news! I’ve run into him like a dozen times in the past few weeks in person,” you insisted, shifting to face him as he continued to chuckle disbelievingly.

“You sure you’re talking about this guy? ‘Cus even the BCPD’s had a hard time tracking him down.” Dick nodded towards the photograph on the TV. “They can’t even get us a good picture.”

“I didn’t know we had other guys dressed up in black and blue spandex and jumping off of buildings,” you deadpanned, causing him to laugh again. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy, Detective Grayson.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Hey, fair enough-” His phone went off and he paused, shooting you an apologetic look after glancing at the caller ID. “Sorry - one sec.” You nodded and he picked it up, rising from the couch to head over to the hallway to speak. It didn’t bother you - you figured it was his typical phone call about detectives needing to do what detectives had to do. So, you turned your attention back to the TV where they were discussing Bludhaven’s new vigilante. “Addad wants me down to the station to look over a few case files,” Dick announced when he finally returned to view, pocketing his phone and hurriedly adding more after catching sight of your expression. “It should be really quick, it’s just—it’s really important.”

“Right,” you started with an air of mild awkwardness, standing up as he moved to slide on his jacket. “Yeah, totally. Don’t worry about it.” He hesitated before reaching for the door, shooting you another glance and a little grin that induced a few stray butterflies in your stomach. Irrationally, of course.

"I'll call you."

He let that hover in the air before closing the door behind him, leaving you still standing by the couch.

Whatever it was that was going on between you and Dick Grayson was—well, you didn’t actually have a name for it yet. But it was definitely something.

It was later that very night when you received not one but two unexpected visitors via your apartment window.

The broken window was the least of your worries when the black-and-blue clad vigilante began to rise to his feet, groaning as he straightened and freezing when he met your eyes.

His face was rigid as he looked at you. You were still frozen on your couch, eyes flickering between him and the seemingly unconscious person on the floor. You would’ve reached for your gun, but unfortunately, you didn’t keep guns with you during Friday night TV marathons. Apparently, that was another bad idea in Bludhaven.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man blurted out before you could break out of your stupor and attempt to chuck something at his head. “I was just dealing with this guy, that was an accident.” You both glanced at the shards on the floor and then back at each other. He winced. “And sorry about your window, that was...also an accident.”

Your landlord was not going to be happy about this one.

“Nightwing,” you finally managed, still glancing between the two figures. “You’re Nightwing.” The blue symbol on his chest (a bird? Crossed with a bat?) made that much clear.

“The one and only.” There might’ve been a hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned over to grab the man on the floor single handedly. “You know who I am?”

“Who doesn’t?” you deadpanned, still eyeing him somewhat warily as he dragged him back towards your balcony. You wondered how exactly he was planning on heading out from there while carrying- “Is that Scarecrow?” you gaped, taking a few steps back as soon as you finally caught sight of the potato sack-like sheet obscuring the other man’s face. You could tell he was probably the real deal by the shitty stitched up mouth and the excessive usage of string around the neck. You still had no idea as to why he chose to wear his elementary arts-and-crafts project as his villain costume. “Isn’t he supposed to—why isn’t he in Gotham?”

You did not move over to Bludhaven just to have the Gotham baddies decide to relocate with you. Nightwing’s off-handed shrug wasn’t helpful.

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery. Maybe he wanted to poison another city’s water system with hallucinogens.” He smirked at your expression. “Bad guys get bored too, y’know.”

“That’s cute,” was your response as you pointed back to the broken window. Out of all the apartments he could crash into, he had to crash into this one. “What am I supposed to-”

“Don’t worry about the window, I can take care of it,” he interjected somewhat hurriedly before you could finish, already seeming embarrassed enough. “Sorry.”

More staring.

“Are you going to fix my window…?”

“...no.” A pause. “Not personally, I can’t—I’ll send people over here. Later.” The silence ensued and you finally raised a brow at him, to which he gave you a rather sheepish grin. “We’ve seen each other a lot, huh?”

Aside from this incident, there had been the time where you had been stopping by the corner store and he had shown up chasing after some of Tony Zucco’s men, sending a cocky grin your way before he took them down.

There had been the time you had been at work and he somehow managed to take his fight with Blockbuster right outside your window, shooting you a wave mid-kick and barely avoiding a fist to the face because of it.

Then there was the time at your local cafe when he had literally just stepped in, suit and all, to get a cup of coffee at the same time you had gone in.

There were so many instances where you had seen him around, fighting crime, stopping villains, and even just relaxing, that it had started seeming less and less like coincidences and more like he was, in fact, sticking around your area a little more than he needed to.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, still eyeing him in mild disbelief, “we really have. A lot.”

“Coincidences, am I right?” The teasing tone of his voice was unmistakable.

“Once or twice? Sure.” Seeing Batman during a night at Gotham could be considered a coincidence (and bad luck, according to urban lore and statistics concerning the likelihood of also encountering the Joker). Running into a person you knew in public could be considered a coincidence. Meeting the same vigilante about six different times when the rest of the city barely even had good, non-blurry pictures of him? Not a coincidence. “I’m pretty sure it’s more than a coincidence at this point. Do I know you?”

“Do you?” His playfulness hadn’t been reduced by a shred, and you moved to grab the broom to clear up the broken glass with a sigh. “I get asked that a lot - here, let me take care of that-” You brushed him off with a shake of your head, already having started yourself.

“It’s fine. And if I don’t know you, this is even weirder.”

“I wish I knew you better.”

“Seriously?” He shrugged again, still grinning.

“Seriously.” You gave him another look before finally clearing away the glass. Nightwing had brought the still-out Scarecrow onto your balcony. You were surprised the guy was still knocked out. He must’ve taken a pretty solid hit.

“I really hope you were serious about fixing this-”

“I was, trust me,” he assured, watching you walk outside as well before he picked the man up again. He had the decency to at least look rather sheepish about the entire ordeal. “You won’t have to worry about it, I promise.” You shrugged at his words, but you somehow felt like he was actually being genuine about it. So you decided to wait and find out if you were right about him.

“Then I guess I’ll see you around, Nightwing,” you finally said after catching his gaze through his cowl, shooting him a little grin he returned easily.

“I’ll see you around too, Y/N.”

It sounded so off-handed and normal that you hadn’t even realized what he had said until he had swung right out of your view, leaving you standing at your balcony in complete disbelief.

How had he known your name?

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Nights in the OR

A/N: This is called “I watch too much Grey’s Anatomy” so if you’re a fellow Grey’s fan in addition to a fellow Ashton ho, hi!

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

Nights on the peds floor we’re, in a word, uneventful. Low hums and beeps from machines doing their jobs while kids and parents alike snoozed between nurses prodding them awake to do their routine checks. You went through the charts of your patients, delegating a duo of an intern and older resident to each case with strict orders to page you only if something was seriously wrong, and a bright “Keep the tiny humans alive,” before making your way to the emergency room.

The trauma team usually ran the emergency room, a sea of green scrubs moving effectively and efficiently, assessing situations before paging the right departments, or diving headfirst into the work themselves. You caught sight of one of the doctors, a tall man in a shade of green scrubs darker than the rest in the room, and rolled your eyes. Attending trauma surgeon Ashton Irwin was about as arrogant as he was skilled, with an annoying habit of assessing quickly, albeit correctly, and working even faster on patients before shipping them off to the correct departments to deal with the fallout. You weren’t sure if that man had ever spent more than an hour, two tops, with a patient from start to finish. True to his arrogance and almost zero tolerance for sloppy mistakes, he was talking in hushed tones to a second year, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw set, as the resident nodded frantically before running off.

Dr. Irwin took a moment to compose himself, giving the slightest shake of his head and relaxing his jaw, before turning to wherever he was needed next. His hazel eyes scanned the room, and even from where you were you could tell that they were more on the green side tonight as they met yours. He offered forth the smallest of nods and smiles in your direction, dimples indenting both sides of the smile.

You returned the gesture, before twirling your index finger about the room. Extra attending on hand.

He waved his hand. No need. Got it covered, thanks.

You smiled your best, I don’t give a damn smile, striding across the room to take a seat behind a computer, crossing your hands behind your head. And with little else to do on your part, you settled in for a long night of researching the pros and cons of artificial bones versus prosthetics in cases for patients with osteosarcoma, a joint effort you were working on with the orthopedic surgeon.

Around 2 in the morning, you took a break from your research to grab a cup of coffee and a small bite to eat. On your way back, you spotted the orthopedic surgeon with a patient. “Oh! Dr. Hood,” you said as you approached. “Come find me when you’re done. I have some ideas.”

The man swiveled on his chair to glance up at you, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You’re not in OR 2 with Ash?”

“Nnnnoooo…” you said slowly, taking a sip from your coffee. “Why?” you followed up in a clipped tone. What had Dr. Arrogant done now?

Dr. Hood smiled politely at his patient, and got the attention of his resident. “Ma’am, we’re going to take you up for X-rays now, and then we’ll see about setting your arm for you, okay?”

The woman nodded, clearly shaken up. Then, “What about my husband and son?”

“I’ll get word, and update you as soon as I can,” he promised, before the resident escorted the patient up to X-rays. Finally he turned his attention to you. “Car accident just came in. Parents are a little banged up. Mike and Luke are working up the dad. You know how Luke gets about stitches.”

The both of you shared a chuckle. Luke Hemmings, the plastic surgeon, had very high standards for even the most basic of stitches, and if he was on hand and free, it was an easy bet he’d do the work himself. “So, what’s Mike doing with him then, if it’s just stitches?” you asked, referring to the general surgeon.

He shrugged. “General work up and clearance, I suppose. But the mom and the son’s side took the impact the hardest. Specifically the son. Ash didn’t page you?”

You scoffed. “Why on Earth would Ash page me, Cal? It’s trauma,” you raised your hands and voice in a mocking manner.

“Uh, probably cuz the kid is like seven.”

You growled low in your throat, hands going to tie up your hair. “OR 2, you said? How long ago?”

“Not too long. They gotta still be prepping. So if you hurry…”

“Thanks, Cal,” you patted the man on the shoulder before taking off at a run towards the OR rooms, briefly mourning your discarded coffee and potato chips in the process.

When you shouldered your way into the room, Ashton was in the process of scrubbing in, while nurses finished prep. “What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, arms crossing instinctively over your chest as you made your presence known.

Ashton shut off the water with his elbow, turning slightly to face you. “My job,” was the reply in a tone that questioned your intelligence.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “That,” you pointed out the window towards the child on the table, “is a peds case, and you know it.”

“It will be once it stops being a trauma case, yes.”

“Why didn’t you page me?”

“Because I don’t need you. It’s a trauma case. I’m a trauma surgeon. Now, you want to stop asking inane questions, and let me do my job, or you wanna stand here and fight with me all night?”

“It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who happens to be trauma certified. And I’ll be damned if you do some hacksaw job on my patient that I have to fix later when I can scrub in and do the correct job now. So, are you going to ask me to scrub in, or do you wanna stand here questioning my credentials all night when you know I’m right? Do not make me go above your head to the Chief, Ash, because you know I will.”

His jaw ticked underneath his mask, his eyes hard as he thought over your threat. “Well?” he snapped after a beat of silence. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to scrub in?”

~~~

It was a grueling surgery, working in tandem with Ashton. For all the shit the two of you gave each other outside of the OR, inside you were one of the best teams, each of you knowing each other’s moves before you made them, and knowing what the other was thinking in the subtlest of changes. Even with both of your focuses solely on the patient in front of you, you were both vigilant in sending Ashton’s intern out every hour on the hour with updates, in which you two were also informed of the parents’ recovery.

Just before the four hour mark, Ashton let out a small hum of approval and you nodded. “Close and get him a room on the peds floor,” you told the intern.

“You don’t want me to update the family?”

“No,” Ashton cut in, already discarding his gloves, mask, and removing his scrub cap, shocks of curly brown hair falling forward and plastering to his sweaty forehead. “I will. Give Dr. Y/L/N any trouble and you won’t see the inside of an OR for a month.”

The intern gulped, knowing their boss meant what he said and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Y/N, I’ll meet you after I update the family to make sure we’re on the same page for how to proceed from here?”

“If you can remember how to page me, that is,” you smiled sweetly.

Ashton chuckled as he left the OR, while you stayed to oversee the intern closing, providing probably much gentler instruction than they were used to.

~~~

You rubbed at your eyes and stifled a yawn as you made your way to the cafeteria, still waiting for Ashton to page you. As you walked in, you realized why Ashton still hadn’t paged, spotting the man chatting with a few other attendings.

“Heard Y/N chewed your ear off,” Michael snickered.

“Yeah, she was pissed. Thanks for that, Cal,” Ashton said with a small giggle before changing his voice to do his best impersonation of you, “ ‘It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who also happens to be trauma certified. Do not make me go over your head.’ Like yes, darling, I know. I’m the one who gave you your trauma certification.”

As the men started to laugh, you set your tray down in an empty seat at their table. “Morning, gentlemen!”

There was a cough as they tried to stifle their laughter, each of them getting out a choked, “Morning.”

“What were we talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Uh… just how Luke needs to learn to loosen up on the stitches,” Michael thought quickly. “Turns a five minute procedure into a half hour ordeal, it’s insane.”

“Sorry that I care how my patients look after a trauma,” Luke said with an eye roll.

“I’m sure, psych would call that mentality projection,” Calum teased.

“Paging Dr. Pretty Boy!” Ashton cackled.

“Hey! Rather be Dr. Pretty Boy than Dr. Arrogant,” Luke rounded on Ashton playfully.

“Who calls me that?”

“Uh… everybody. Y/N’s pretty accurate with her nicknaming,” Calum grinned.

Ashton let out a breath of disbelief as you smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Have you considered being less arrogant?”

“I am not arrogant!”

“Yeah, you are,” you all chorused, while Ashton crossed his arms and pouted. “Oh, whatever, the best surgeons usually are” you continued, turning your attention to Calum. “Before I got stuck in surgery, I meant to talk to you about artificial bones. Found some promising stuff.”

Calum paused in his sip of coffee. “Mmm, shit, awesome. Uh…” he checked his watch, “I got a half hour before rounds. You got time now?”

You checked your own watch. “Yeah, I got t-”

“Actually,” Ashton interrupted. “Y/N, I was wondering if we could talk real quick first. About the kid.”

“Oh! Yeah. We should probably do that. Cal, I’m off after rounds, if you’re free then.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded as he went back to his coffee while you and Ashton rose from the table, bidding the other three goodbye.

“So, his chart’s all up to date. I have one of my fourth years monitoring the situation, but I’m not expecting any complications to arise. Should be good to discharge probably later today or early tomorrow at the latest,” you brought him up to speed as you walked.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Ashton rushed, eyes darting around as he pushed open an on-call room and locked the door behind the two of you. “How long we got til rounds?”

“A little under a half hour, why?”

Ashton smirked as his hands landed hot on your waist, his lips finding yours. “Wanna boss me around some more?” he murmured against your lips, before he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, before sucking into the sweet spot just before your collarbone, his hands jerking you to be flush against him. “Or, do you want my sincerest apology for being Dr. Arrogant, and forgetting to page you earlier?”

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly, tilting your head back, eyes shutting. “Little bit of both?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked before scrubs went flying and your back hit the mattress.

Tag List

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#nights in the or #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin au #5sos #calpal irwin

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

neglect (five x reader)

requested by : @stitched-mouth - Hi! I'm not sure if requests are open but if they are, can I request a slight angst fic for Five X Reader? They've been married a while but the reader accidentally admits that she doesn't feel much love from Five, and he needs to reassure her? Maybe being caught up in trying to stop the apocalypse from happening and looking for his siblings made Five unknowingly neglect his wife 👀? Could it even be a little bit of a jealous reader 👀? Thank you!

a/n : ty for the request love!! hope u enjoy<333

Your sullen eyes watched the pouring rain through the misty windows as your siblings mumbled between each other. All their words seemed to turn to white noise in your ears and as you looked through the glass pane, the water droplets on the outside mirrored those falling down your face, racing to land on the fabric of your clothes.

Klaus watched you from the other side of the room, a drink in one of his hands. He sighed, not bothering to listen to your siblings and instead coming to sit beside you, resting his head on your shoulder, earning a small smile from your lips.

“Hey, sis. You okay?” His voice was quiet, which you appreciated. You didn’t want anyone else to know that you had been crying, there were more important things to be worrying about right now, like the apocalypse.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Turning your head slightly to smile at him, he ruffled the top of your hair before subtly swiping away the tear stains down your cheeks.

“All this talk about the end of all times really gets ya down, huh?” You chuckled at his words, glancing over to the rest of your siblings for a moment before turning away.

“Yeah, something like that.” Klaus frowned when you spoke, noticing the longing in your eyes when you looked over at Five.

“Ah, trouble in paradise?”

“Not exactly. Five hasn’t exactly been the most talkative since we got back, unless it involves the apocalypse. I guess I just wish he made some time for me, even a few minutes. It sounds ridiculous, I know.”

“No, no, not at all. I get it, totally.” Klaus took a large gulp from his glass after he reassured you, deeply sighing afterwards. “Can’t imagine that him ignoring you makes you feel the greatest.”

“No, not ignoring me, just… He has other priorities right now and for good reason. I just wish he could, you know, balance his time a little better.”

“Y/N, you’re his wife. You should be his top priority.”

“I guess I am, in the long run. He’s so focused on the apocalypse because he wants to save me. He wants to save all of us.”

“Can you guys stop the mindless chit-chat and actually help us with this?” You and Klaus whipped your heads around to find the rest of your siblings staring at you, and Five looked particularly angry. Muttering a sorry, you joined the others, standing beside Diego and he gently clapped your shoulder a couple of times in comfort and you smiled slightly, zoning out again while the conversation continued. You watched the window from across the room now, the droplets turning blurry as your eyes puddled with tears once more. Once you noticed, you quickly blinked them away, looking down at your feet to avoid eye contact with anyone.

After a while, everyone seemed to disperse from the living room, and you trudged your feet up the stairs behind Five, moving up to join him in his bedroom. Taking a seat on his bed, listening to him as he thought out loud. The sound of his voice proving what you had said earlier to Klaus made you all the more upset and eventually, you fell into a fit of tears, sobbing greatly as you sat cross-legged on his bed. Five frowned, moving over to sit beside you, taking your hand in his gently. He let you cry, placing your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. It had been something that you had always done for comfort. It allowed you to take control back over you breathing, and you did just that, taking steady breaths, letting out a few sobs and sniffles before he finally looked at you, opening his mouth to speak.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Just feeling down is all.”

“Do you want to go to Griddy’s?” He smiled when you gave him a nod, intertwining your fingers with his until you got to the door of the doughnut shop, unlinking his hand from yours as he opened the door for you. You waited for Five to catch up with you, walking to the counter. You were about to take your seat beside him when a pretty girl took it before you could, scooting her stool closer to him.

“Um, excuse me, miss, I—“

“So, do you come here often?” The girl batted her long eyelashes at your husband, resting her hand on her hand as she puckered up her lips slightly. Your face fell, watching as she tried so desperately to spark Five’s interest, but he continued as usual until she ordered a black coffee. His eyes flickered over to her and he cleared his throat, sipping his own before speaking.

“Uh, no. Not really. Oh, and good choice, by the way.” The two continued to talk in front of you and you sighed, moving towards the door and leaving, making your way back to the academy. When the bell tingled, Five turned, watching you through the window. He finished his coffee before hastily walking back to the academy. When he arrived, he shot straight up the stairs and into your bedroom, where he found you, snuggled up in your bed, hiding under the blanket. Your heart felt perfectly shattered, as if it was just fragments in your chest. But the complete heartache remained, tiring your whole body with the sensation.

“What the hell was that for?”

“What?”

“Leaving me there alone. I thought we were gonna have a good time, but apparently not. Y’know, it would’ve been nice to have a good time and get away from everything just for a few minutes, but I guess not.” He gesticulated while he spoke and you frowned, pulling the blanket off of yourself and pushing yourself up with your elbow, frowning at him.

“I would’ve liked it too. That’s what I was hoping for. You don’t understand how desperate I am to spend some time with you. Even two minutes I’d be happy with. I didn’t expect us to turn up at Griddy’s and have some girl deliberately sit where I was going to just so that she could talk to you.”

“So, what? You’re jealous, is that it?”

“I—“

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

“I know that—“

“I hardly even spoke to her.”

“You spoke to her more than me.” Tears welled in your eyes and Five’s demeanor seemed to soften at the sight. “Like I said, I just want to spend some time with you.”

“We’re spending time together now.”

“I don’t mean like this. I don’t mean when we’re sat together while you’re focusing on equations and I sit and watch the weather change out of your window. I don’t mean when we’re focusing on the apocalypse. It’s all we do, Five. I know it’s important, of course I do. I just want to spend some time with the person that I married.” Your chest heaved up and down and you sighed, in floods of tears again. “It feels like you have no time for me anymore. Like we’re drifting and eventually… we’re gonna be strangers.” Five lunged towards you, pulling your chest against his as he wrapped his arms around you, sighing shakily. Weakly, you snaked your arms around his torso, gripping onto him for dear life. He stroked your hair gently and your breaths matched his whilst your heart rate returned to normal. Slowly, he pulled away, taking both of your cheeks into his hands and drilling his eyes into yours.

“Y/N, I married you for a reason. I love you, and I will only ever love you. I’m sorry I’ve been so tied up in the apocalypse recently, I just… I want to stop it. I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of billions of people when I could’ve stopped it. The point is, I’m sorry. And I love you so much. More than anything. I suppose I have been working a little too hard, and it wouldn’t hurt to take a break every now and again.”

“Five, you don’t have to. I know how important this is to you, and I want to help, and—“

“Y/N, I want to. I want you to know that I love you and I always will love you.”

“I love you.” You desperately pressed your lips against his, pouring your emotions into the kiss. Your lips danced fiercely with each other, moving together in such wildness and yet at the same time, it was all so flawlessly innocent. He leaned his forehead against yours, releasing his lips from yours, trying to catch his breath. You were breathless for a second before you stood and took his hands, pulling him up beside you.

“C’mon, Five. Let’s go save the world.”

my masterlist

454 notes · View notes

purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

Recovery pt 2

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“She’s home, and it’s time for the 97+maknae liners to watch Hayun”

a/n: Some of these are shorter, so I apologize. Also, I couldn’t find gifs of mingyu and dino that fit the “aesthetic” so sorry again. Feel free to let me know your thoughts as well as send me some requests💙. Ask box is also open to random chats.

The8

(italics are Chinese)

“Myungho!” Hayun called out from her spot on the couch and waited for a few seconds before screaming again “Minghao! The8! Whatever name you respond to”

“I’m here woman, calm down” The boy rolled his eyes as she extended her arms to give him her notebook. Minghao took it without a second glance and sat on the floor next to her to read the sentences she had written since he had last left her. “Nice job”

“Do you have any pointers to give me?” She smiled paddling her feet on the couch and he gave her back the notebook.

“Your calligraphy still sucks” He snickered making her chuckle “But I told you that the last three times you called me”

“Yeah, you did,” Hayun twisted her pen, looking from her laptop to the pages before noticing the boy hadn’t left like the previous times “What?”

“Why the sudden interest in Chinese?” He blatantly said, making her close her notebook and shrug her shoulders.

“I needed something to distract me and turns out it’s very easy to get a language certificate through the internet,” The girl said without a break, smiling triumphantly at the end which made him giggle at her proud face. “I might need you to help me revise some stuff though”

“I don’t have much time before I need to go back to pledis so write down your questions and I’ll help you when I get back” He patted her arm and got up from the floor.

“Yeah, go ahead and leave me like everyone else” Hayun threw her head back dramatically making him look at her sassily.

“You do know we’re making you richer right?”

“Yes. And you know that I like to communicate with people” She raised a finger and poked his chest “And I can’t do that if someone is not around to teach me their mother tongue”

“Isn’t three languages enough for you?”

“I want to be one of those smug polyglots. Once you’re done with me I’ll call Yuto to help me with Japanese. There’s this idol who can speak German I think, I’ll talk to him too” She joked with a wink and Minghao shook his head laughing.

Mingyu

Mingyu pushed the door with his elbow and set the tray of food on Hayun’s nightstand. Pushing her arm until she woke up from, what he assumed, her nap.

“What?” She groaned holding his hand and turning away from him.

“I made you food” Mingyu chanted sitting on the bad and moving the platter to his lap

“Is it pizza?” She asked, burying her face in the pillow.

“No?”

“Then I don’t want it”

“Noona, you have to in order to get better soon” The boy rolled his eyes poking her side and she groaned again.

“Is it ramen?”

“No” He answered, expecting her to at least sit up to see what it was. In reality, Hayun stayed still in her spot, pretending to fall asleep again and have him go away. Huffing, Minngyu poked her again “I tried a new recipe, you need to help me see if it’s tasty or not”

Raising her head like he expected, she checked what he had brought and whined while sitting properly.

“You made soup” The girl pouted making him laugh. “I want something greasy”

“You can’t have anything greasy for now” Mingyu shook his head and brought the spoon out of the bowl, leaning forward to feed her a little “Say ahh”

Shutting her mouth, Hayun shook her head making him groan and retreat the spoon annoyed. Smiling mischievously, she opened her mouth again and as the boy took the bowl out of his lap she instantly closed it.

“Can you be a little cooperative?” Mingyu complained laughing and she shrugged, allowing him to properly feed her a spoonful. “How is it?”

Making a disgusted face, Hayun quickly changed it to a pondering one and then smiled satisfied.

“Not bad, Chef Gyu”

“Not bad” He repeated her in English making her laugh and nod.

“Next time, maybe add a little more spice”

“A package arrived for you” Seokmin sang while walking inside Hayun’s room and she shot up from her bed “Wait, calm down. We don’t need your stitches to rip open”

“I’m taking them off tomorrow” She rolled her eyes taking the package from him. As he was walking away she waved him inside, shaking the big box with a smile “Stay, you’re going to like what I ordered”

“Ohh, what is it?” He sat along with her on her bed and helped her rip open the cardboard.

“I ordered a hammock” Hayun smiled satisfied as she made her way to the fabric “I’m going to hang it in my room and chill in it”

“Cool,” Dokyeom got up, holding an end of the object and spreading it out so they could get a perfect view “How are you going to hang it?”

“Uh?” The girl blinked, her smile turning to a frown as she looked at him.

“The hammock. You’re going to need a place to hang it”

“Oh. True” She sighed and let go of her end, throwing her body back on the bed and repressing a very mild discomfort. “I didn’t think about that”

“I guess we’re going to need a drill or something professional like that” The boy kept muttering, walking around her room while looking at the walls and dragging the hammock along the floor.

“There must be a tutorial somewhere on the internet. I’ll look for it later” She sighed carefully pulling herself upwards. “Or you know… my very strong groupmates can hold it up while I lay in it”

“Ah, I think you got the wrong person” DK shook his head grinning and she leaned her head forward doing the same movement.

“No, I don’t. C’mon, Seokmin-ah. Do a favor for your sick Noona” She smirked, making him tumble laughing.

“Wow, just a minute ago there was nothing wrong with you” He managed to say in between laughs and she grinned, leaning on her side and shrugging calmly.

Seungkwan

“Are you going to hold my hand?” Hayun asked Sengkwan as soon as they made it to the hospital, the boy rolling his eyes with a big exhale before taking her hand in his and making her laugh “I meant when they take out the stitches dummy”

“Of course I knew that” He scoffed, throwing her hand away. In revenge, Hayun looped her arm around his waist and forcefully made him hug her shoulder as they walked together. Whining, Seungkwan said under his breath “Noona, not here”

“There’s no one in the hallway, stop pouting” Hayun giggled gently slapping his butt, which caused him to widen his eyes and look around to see if she was telling the truth.

“Aren’t you a little bit worried?”

“Not really. I’ve had stitches before” She shrugged as they walked inside a room and sat on a waiting list. “But in all seriousness, I do want you to hold my hand while they do it”

“Why?” He whined again resting his head on her shoulder. “You said you weren’t scared”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want some support”

“Okay then” He sighed and they stayed in silence for a few seconds before Seungkwan turned to her serious “You’re probably not going to like hearing this”

“Oh my, what did you do?”

“Nothing. I just feel bad” The boy took her hand again and looked down ashamed “I kind of feel better about not doing the entire performance after you had to step out”

“What?” Hayun frowned and he shook his head, realizing how that sounded.

“I’m not glad that you had to take a break. The members know I complain about wanting you with us all the time” He smiled gently making her chuckle “It just made me realize how lucky I am that I didn’t have to sit out everything”

“Strangely enough I don’t feel attacked at all” Hayun laughed patting his head and gesturing for him to rest on her shoulder again “I’m glad you didn’t have to either Boo. Please keep taking better care of yourself”

Vernon

“Is that my sister?” Vernon frowned, leaning down over the back of the couch to check out Hayun’s phone.

“Oopsies, gotta go,” Sofia said over facetime and instantly hung up the call, making the boy frown at his own reflection on the black screen.

“You were facetiming my sister?” He looked at Hayun confused and walked around to sit next to her.

“Yeah actually. I do talk fairly often with your mom too.” She quirked up an eyebrow and crossed her arms “You better step up your technology game because I’m stealing your family”

“What?” He chuckled, leaning back and taking her phone to check the latest calls, laughing harder when he realized she was telling the truth.

“I mean it, boy. Your mom said she’s getting me a Christmas stocking this year”

“Well, you’re going to be a great addition to the family” Vernon snickered not knowing if she was being honest or not.

“I’m aware”

“Are you going to do something right now?” He asked side-eyeing her and she shook her head “Good. I’m going to need you to help me out with something I composed”

“You know. Technically I’m still on my work hiatus” She smirked poking his side and Vernon snorted. “But, we are at home after all so I don’t think that’s a problem”

“I know, that’s why I asked” He laughed and opened an app on his phone.

Dino

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Hayun said as soon as she heard Dino entering the room backstage.

“You came!” The boy beamed running to hug her and she replied with a giggle rubbing his back.

“I wanted to surprise you guys after the last stage” She smiled and shrugged looking to see if anyone else was around “Please don’t tell the others”

“Okay. Oh my, I saw you this morning but I can’t believe you are here” The boy chuckled making her pat his cheek.

“Why did you come back?” Hayun asked frowning “You’re supposed to be on stage in two minutes”

“I left my phone inside my pocket again” Chan giggled embarrassed and took the device, setting it on the table. “Aren’t you going to be lonely while we’re gone”

“Nah. I’ll look around to see if there’s anyone bored too”

“You were supposed to say ‘watching you is enough for me’” Dino made an annoyed face and both of them started laughing.

“I’ll look around after watching the performance, don’t worry” She rolled her eyes and held his hand “Talking about it. If you guys come back and I’m not here text me. I either lost track of time or one of the managers sent me home”

“The managers don’t know you’re here?” He said amused “How did you even come? You’re driving already?”

“I took a cab. But now that you said, I can drive again. I don’t know why I didn’t do that”

“Okay, Noona” Dino laughed stealing a look at the clock “I have to go, please don’t wander around too much”

“Good luck with the performance!” Hayun smiled sending him a flying kiss before he bolted off the room.

#Hayun #seventeen 14th member #seventeen oc #seventeen au #Seventeen Additional Member #seventeen addition #seventeen female addition #seventeen female member #seventeen female oc #seventeen extra member #seventeen imagines #seventeen x oc #seventeen x 14th member #kpop addition #kpop au #kpop #female!oc #female!kpop #female!addition

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ladyseaheart1668 · 3 years

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 56)

Description: The Catalysts attempt to return to their lives as River Skye finally comes home. tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Chapter 56: Not Over

Alodia

I almost can’t believe how quickly I start to feel better once the fever breaks. The pain, which had felt like some hellish demon with teeth made of red-hot iron gnawing at my lower back, begins to recede within hours.

“That’s how it tends to go with an infection like this once we find the right antibiotic,” the doctor tells me. “You are fortunate, though. These days, a lot of bacteria have developed resistance to antibiotics. But the infection is responding well to treatment, and all your vitals and your blood work look good. And your daughter appears as healthy as a baby horse. ...I would just like to take a quick look at how you’re healing from the birth if that’s okay.”

I nod, turning onto my back with Jake’s help as the doctor draws the curtain around the bed. Improved as I am, I know I’m not at full strength yet, because moving still hurts. I guess I must have winced, because the doctor raises an eyebrow in concern as she pulls on a pair of gloves.

“You okay there?”

“I think so. Guess I’m still pretty sore.”

“That’s to be expected. You probably won’t feel one-hundred percent for another week or two at least.”

I draw my knees up and part my thighs while the doctor pulls up a stool at the foot of the bed and lifts the blanket. I keep my attention focused on Jake’s face above me and the pressure of his hand on mine as the doctor carries out her checks. Occasionally, I let my eyes wander around to the multiple bouquets and mylar balloons that have built up over the past couple days, gifts from the Catalysts, Tahira’s team, my aunt and uncle, and Jake and Diego’s parents.

“Everything is healing beautifully. Stitches should be dissolved by next week. You’re probably going to be feeling pretty tender for a while though.”

“Yeah, we had the whole tearing conversation with my OB in California some time ago.”

“Good. If you have any pressing questions regarding the birth and recovery, you can of course ask me, or one of the maternity staff. We can also forward your hospital records to your regular OBGYN.”

“How long do you think it will be before we can go home?” Jake asks.

She pulls the blanket back down and stands, peeling off her gloves. “Well, the fact is, we want to get her and your baby out of here ASAP to lower the chances of either of them picking up a secondary infection.” She smiles at me. “Now that the fever’s gone, we’re gonna get you off the drip and onto some oral antibiotics, and we can pretty much start the discharge process immediately.”

“So soon?” My own question surprises me, but it’s out of my mouth before I realize it’s on the end of my tongue.

“Believe me, it’s better we get you both out of here.”

“I know. It’s not that I want to stay here. It’s just...thinking about how we’re going to get home...how soon we can get home…”

“That’s all taken care of, Princess. Aleister is having Castor and Pollux deep cleaned, and he and Grace are gonna put us up for a few days until Mike gets up here from Santo Domingo. Diego and Varyyn are with Estela and Quinn, and your aunt and uncle basically paid for hotel rooms for everyone else.”

His infodump has my head reeling a little, but there was one particular tidbit I find myself fixing on.

“Why is Mike…?” I trail off as realization crashes down on me in an icy wave. A bit of information I had nearly forgotten in my struggle to bring my baby safely into the world while fighting a fever. Jake wasn’t worrying about me for all that time from the safety of our home in California. I don’t know the details, but I have a sinking feeling that has something to do with the reason that Mike isn’t here with us now.

Jake folds my hand between his palms, glancing at the doctor. “Hey...do you have everything you need? I’d like a few minutes alone with my wife, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll get the ball rolling on your discharge.”

I wait until I’m sure she’s well clear of the room before I reach to stroke Jake’s cheek. “...I know Lundgren got his filthy hands on you. ...Fiddler told me. ...I’m guessing he got a hold of Mike, too.”

He leans into my touch. “...And Sean and Michelle. Nabbed us all as I was bringing ‘em back from the island.”

“I don’t know if she told me that. That conversation got swallowed up in worrying about you, and then I got sick and River started coming, and…” I swallow, running my thumb along the fuzzy ridge of his cheekbone. “...Did they hurt you? Any of you?”

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Knocked us all around a little. Michelle’s the smart one, of course, so she escaped the worst. ...Mike’s in Santo Domingo having his prosthetics repaired. Lundgren ripped them out ot torture him.”

I shudder. “Oh, god...Oh, Jake, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…”

I’m crying before I realize it. And as soon as I do realize, it turns into sobbing. Jake reaches down to gather me in his arms and cradle my head against his shoulder, rocking me tenderly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. In a few days, we’ll be home with our baby.”

“I w-wanna be home,” I hiccup. “I wanna be home with River, but I’m scared of leaving everyone again. I just wanna bring them all home with us…”

“Well, it’s a very big house. ...On the other hand, you cram us all into the same house long term, it might start to feel less big. Plus, it would mean a brutal cross-country commute for some of them.”

I can’t help chuckling a little bit, which makes the sobs start to die down. Jake gives me a moment to get myself under control before he speaks again.

“...How are you feeling, Princess? Really?”

“Physically?” I pull back gently to lie down on the pillow again. “Definitely better. My head is clearer, and I don’t hurt as much. But I’m still worn out. And by the way, you’re gonna have to make due with blow jobs for awhile, because it’s gonna be a long time before you stick that thing in me again, if ever.”

It’s his turn to laugh, and he bends to kiss me. “Princess, I will tug it for the rest of my life as long as you’re still a part of that life.”

“I will be a part of your life as long as the universe allows,” I promise. “...But Jake, we both know this isn’t over.”

He sighs, and I see his forehead crease before he presses it to mine. “I know. I know you’re right. But for River’s sake--and mine--will you let the others take care of that for now? I ain’t saying don’t worry, because I know that’s impossible. But River and I need you healthy. Can you stand to let yourself be looked after for a while?”

I feel a rueful smile tug at one corner of my mouth. “Am I to assume that arguing is pointless?”

A tapping at the open door to the birthing suite distracts Jake from answering. We both look up to find Raj and Diego hovering in the doorway, Raj with a paper bag in his hand, and Diego with his right arm in a soft blue sling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since River was born, and I sit up a little straighter as he hesitantly steps over the threshold.

“...Are we interrupting?”

The baby has started fussing, and Jake eases off the edge of the bed to go pick her up. I open my arms to Diego. Just before he rushes into them, I see his face twist with anguish. And as he falls against me, his one-armed grip is surprisingly strong.

“Goddammit, Allie,” he whispers quiveringly. “Goddammit…”

“...Did I scare you?”

He pulls back sharply, enough so he can look me in the face, but he keeps a grip on my shoulder. “Did you scare me?! You had me on my knees saying the Ave Maria! Do you know how long it’s been since I said the Ave Maria?!”

There isn’t really a lot I can say to that, but I smile ruefully. “...Thanks for staying with me.”

“What, you thought I’d bail?”

I snort. “God, no. But I can still be grateful.”

“...You’re really okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine. The fever is gone, and the wound doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m still pretty sore down there, though.”

A smile finally starts to play cautiously around his mouth. “...Well, that part’s Jake’s problem.”

“How about you?” I ask, gingerly touching the strap of his navy blue sling.

“That’s nothing serious. It was dislocated, but they popped it back in. Just got to wear this for a few more days, and take it easy once we get back home. ...Raj brought food, by the way.”

“Oh!” I pull back a little to smile at Raj. “Sorry, big guy. I didn’t mean to ignore you.��

Raj chuckles. “We’ll blame it on the new mommy brain and leave it at that. Speaking of which…” He shoos Diego back enough that he can drag my bed table over across my lap, and sets an insulated lunch box on top. “I figured you could do with something better than hospital fruit cups and oatmeal, so I brought you a special Raj lunch. Michelle supervised its creation, and it’s full of stuff that’s supposed to be good for new moms.”

“What is it?”

“So glad you asked!” With a flourish, he opens the bag, and pulls out each item in turn, presenting them like a game show prize lady. “A sandwich of salmon, spinach, and poached egg on whole wheat bread with a garlic white bean spread; in case you are extra hungry, a side of gourmet trail mix made from an assortment of nuts and dried fruit; and to drink, a pineapple-orange-banana smoothie with extra protein powder, and just a few extra leaves of spinach!”

I can’t help but be uplifted by his enthusiasm, and hold out my arms for a hug. “I must be the most spoiled new mother in the world.”

Raj embraces me lightly over the table. “As you should be. You know in some Asian cultures, a new mother spends a whole month resting while her mother-in-law takes care of her and the baby.”

“Oh yeah?” I look at Jake. “Think your mother would spend a month taking care of me?”

“Honestly, I bet she would. The problem would be getting her to ease up and let you start taking care of things after the month was up.”

“Hmm...probably best not to give her ideas then.”

“Probably. We’ll have my folks over in few more months, when we’ve had a chance to get settled.”

“...But…” Raj says, “in the meantime, do you think you guys will be needing any extra help? I know it’s going to be a pretty full house as it is, but Diego’s going to want to take it easy with lifting and stuff for a while, and Michelle says Mike will probably need time to recover, too. If you need a couple extra pairs of hands and someone to do the cooking, I have some downtime, and I know Lila would be happy to come along.”

I look questioningly at Jake, who shrugs. “I don’t have anything against that. It’s a big enough house. And if Varyyn and I are gonna be the only ones at full strength for the time being, I wouldn’t say no to a couple extra pairs of hands.”

“And probably better those hands be Raj and Lila than anyone’s parents,” Diego adds. “I bet Varyyn would prefer not having to wear his disguise twenty-four-seven.”

“Yeah. And,” Jake adds with a sigh, shifting River to rest against his shoulder, “it’s probably preferable not to involve anyone who ain’t already involved in the bigger picture. ...Like you said before, Princess, this ain’t over.”

“But for now, we’re all safe and sound, and Allie has a lunch to eat.” Diego smiles encouragingly as he pushes the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich toward me. “Go on. Dig in.”

Jake

I gotta admit, it does my heart good to see my wife savoring the meal Raj brought her and enjoying our friends’ company. She seems almost back to her old self as she talks and tells jokes and teases with them. Although, as I put River in her arms, I can’t help but be reminded that she’ll never be exactly like her old self again. Not now that she’s a mama. Not like I’m ever gonna be exactly like my old self again either. I’m a daddy now. That’s gonna change me forever. The thought scares me, like it has a lot over the past nine months. But just a look at that precious little face is enough to reassure me that I am never gonna regret it.

Diego and Raj eventually leave us on our own again. After nursing and burping, River sleeps just long enough that we can fill out her birth certificate, nestled side-by-side on the bed. From there, it’s not more than an hour or two before they’re wheeling Alodia toward the hospital exit with River in her arms again while I walk at her shoulder, a baby carrier in the crook of my elbow and my arms laden with flowers and mini mylar balloons. Any staff we happen to pass on the way out smile and wave or give us their congratulations. I have a feeling that in a hospital, any chance to see a patient off happy and healthy is a cause for celebration, and that probably goes double for a new mama leaving with a baby.

Grace is waiting in a car for us at the curb outside the hospital. One of Reggie’s old carseats is in the backseat. Grace settles the baby in the carseat while I help Alodia into the seat beside her.

“There’s a surprise for you guys when we get to our place,” Grace informs us as I circle around the car to get in on the other side of River.

“Nothing too strenuous, I hope,” Alodia quips. “I am not up for a party yet.”

Grace chuckles as she starts up the car. “Oh, believe me, I realize that. No, everyone is pretty sure parties are off the table for you for the time being. ...But you do know that everyone is going to want to see you before you leave, right? You gave us a scare, and no one wants you to go before we all know you’re okay. ...Plus, everyone wants to see River.”

“I am not opposed to visitors,” Alodia assures her. “Just...only a few at a time.”

“Absolutely. We won’t let you get overwhelmed.”

“River, either,” Alodia adds, stroking our sleeping daughter’s downy hair. “Poor thing is probably overwhelmed as it is, suddenly coming into all this noise and color and light.”

“Birth is the craziest thing that ever happens to us, and none of us remember it,” I remark, letting the blade of my forefinger run gently back and forth across the soft back of River’s tiny hand. Her little fingers twitch just slightly, and the base of her pacifier rocks back and forth across her lips, but she doesn’t wake up. I don’t expect the quiet will last.

River does sleep throughout the half hour or so it takes to drive to Aleister and Grace’s luxury Northbridge apartment. As we pull up to the curb, I realize what our surprise is.

“Mike!”

I must have been a little louder than I thought, because River wakes up with a cry that can only be described as irritated, but it doesn’t fully register until I have already launched myself out of the car towards Mike. He’s balancing on a walker, so I at least have the good sense not to jostle him, but I can’t hold myself back from grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He grins, carefully removing his hands from the walker one at a time to grasp me back.

“Good to see ya, Grandpa.”

“Shit, you too! We weren’t expecting you for another couple days! How are you feeling?”

“Well, as you can tell,” he says, nodding at the walker, “I’m not quite ready to run a marathon yet. But my new legs are healing up nice. ...Good to see you, Goldilocks.”

His gaze shifts over my shoulder, and I turn to look back at my wife supporting herself on Aleister’s arm while Grace bounces River in her arms. Alodia smirks at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I feel like I should make a joke about you abandoning your wife and child in the car to go hang out with your buddy,” she drawls.

I grin sheepishly as Mike carefully returns his grip to the walker. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”

I lunge and sweep her up bridal style, and I have the pleasure of feeling her arms twine around my neck.

“Mmm, much better. However, unlike your daughter, I am actually capable of walking.”

“But you don’t have to. Not right now, anyway.” But I do return her to her feet after capturing her mouth in a kiss. I don’t entirely take my hands off her yet, though. After her ordeal, I don’t think she’s really that much steadier than Mike right now. Her grip as she slips her arm through mine confirms my concerns.

I’m standing between my wife and my best friend, and neither of them are fully able to stand under their own power. I’m starting to feel that much more grateful to Raj for volunteering to help us out for a while.

I think Mike notices Alodia’s weakness, too, because his forehead creases just a little. “You all right, Goldilocks? From what I hear, you gave everyone a real scare.”

“It was pretty scary on my end, too. But I’m fine now. How about you?”

Mike shrugs. “Ahh, you know. A few weeks of rehab, I’ll be a six-million dollar man again. In the meantime,” he adds wryly, stroking the frame of his walker, “it’ll be hard to call Jake ‘Grandpa’ when I’m dottering around on this thing.”

“You just called me ‘Grandpa’ two minutes ago.”

“And I cannot tell you how hard I internally cringed. Seriously, if you could have seen my internal expression, you’d have thought I was sucking lemons.”

I am morally obligated to reach out and swat him for that, but before I can, Alodia abruptly steps forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, encumbered by the walker and both of them still being weak, but it’s a sincere one, and Mike leans into it gratefully.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alodia murmurs.

“You too,” Mike says softly, reaching up to pat her shoulder with one hand. “But can we go inside? I wanna properly meet that baby you’ve been carrying around for the past nine months!”

***

The Catalysts come by in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening, apparently having planned it all out beforehand. No one stays more than an hour at a time, which proves to be a good thing, since Alodia is clearly worn out by about eight in the evening. We’re set up in the guest room of the Rourke apartment, with River in a bassinet beside us, and Mike on the foldaway bed in the living room.

Alodia nurses River and rocks her to sleep before lying down herself. At first, I curl up beside Alodia in bed. She’s asleep within minutes, but I’m not as quick. And after an hour, it’s pretty clear that I’m not on my way to dreamland any time soon. I don’t want to leave Alodia or River. I never want to leave Alodia’s side again. But I’m restless. Anxious. And eventually, the desire not to disturb what precious little sleep my wife might have before our daughter wakes her up again wins out over my irrational need to pace back and forth between them. I check the windows, making sure they’re locked, then I slip out of the room as quietly as I can, heading back out into the living room.

I find Mike, Aleister, and Grace all seated in the living room. On the coffee table are four short, round glasses and a bottle of golden red liquid that I’m guessing is some kind of whiskey.

“We were starting to wonder if you had also fallen asleep,” Aleister says. He gestures to the glasses. “We thought you might like to wet your baby’s head.”

“Kind of a weird expression,” I remark. Nonetheless, I pick up the bottle and take a seat in an armchair to read the label. “Ooh, Irish Mist. Fancy.”

“It is not every day that one becomes a father. The night Reginald was born, Diego, Varyyn, and I toasted his birth with Irish Mist.”

I crack open the bottle, and lean forward to fill each of the four glasses about halfway. I set down the bottle and raise my glass, the others following suit.

“To River Skye McKenzie, my beautiful angel. And to her mother, my better half, who is truly the best and bravest of us.”

“Here, here!” Grace says. We clink glasses, and I take a long, deep drink, savoring the sweet notes of honey and spices riding atop the alcoholic burn of whiskey. I return my glass to the table empty and lean back in my chair.

“When my sister and I both were born, my grandpa had my dad and the men of the neighborhood over to smoke cigars on the porch.” I chuckle a little. “Rebecca remembers helping our grandma in the kitchen, and seeing all the men outside smoking. She says what she remembers most about the day I was born was our dad coming in from outside to give her a hug, but she pushed him away and said, ‘No, Daddy! You stink!’”

My story prompts the expected laughter.

“I am afraid Irish Mist will have to do tonight,” Aleister says. “I did not think to buy cigars. Nor would I know enough to ensure I was purchasing a quality product. As I understand it, Cuban cigars are the best, but those are illegal.”

Mike shudders. “Honestly, I think the smell of a Cuban would be enough to give me flashbacks. Lundgren used to smoke contraband Cubans.”

“Same here,” I agree. “I mean...there was that one time…”

“...That one time what?”

I chuckle a little, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay, no one currently in this room was there when Zahra blew up MASADA…”

“What’s that got to do with Cuban cigars?”

I sigh, but in spite of myself, in spite of how literally everyone else in the room with me was in some kind of bad situation at the time, I feel a smile playing around my mouth at the memory.

“Okay, so it’s me, Alodia, Sean, Quinn, Estela, Craig, and Zahra trying to find another way out of the complex after the gondola gets severed, and when we go through a control room, Zahra gets the idea to blow the whole thing up. We figure it’s worth the couple extra minutes, so we let her do it. And while she’s rigging the system, I find one of Lundgren’s Cubans somewhere on the floor. ...And I light it up. But only to spite the bastard.”

“But did you enjoy it?” Mike asks.

“Hell, yeah! The hype ain’t a lie, buddy. Not saying I’d do it again unless it were one of his personal stash, but that was a real good smoke. ...Still...it wouldn’t be right to celebrate River with Cuban cigars. Lundgren and Rourke did enough to taint her birth.”

“Nothing has been tainted,” Grace says firmly. “She and Alodia both came through it well and healthy.”

“I ain’t losing sight of what’s important,” I assure her. “But I can’t let my guard down, either. ...We all know this ain’t over.”

Grace sighs. “...No, you’re right. It isn’t over. ...Which means...I should probably tell you what I learned in Ireland.”

Diego

I knew that the Catalysts wouldn’t have sat on their hands while any of their own were in danger, but I am surprised to learn just how busy they were during the time that Allie and I were in Arachnid’s claws. I’m even more surprised--and frankly unsettled--by some of the things they learned. Yvonne might be alive. Lundgren flew the same plane that killed Allie’s parents, even though the twisted wreckage of that plane is the property of the NTSB. The whole mess with Allie’s mom, that weird AI message from a program made by Allie’s mom. It all leaves us with a lot more questions than answers.

I told the police everything I felt like I could safely tell them. I went so far as to tell them that I think Everett Rourke might be alive because that’s who our kidnappers claimed they were taking us to. I don’t know if they believed me. I don’t know if the future of the Vaanti is safe. A part of me hopes that they lose interest in the case since everyone who was abducted has been recovered safely. But I also know that none of us are really safe until Rourke is either back behind bars or dead.

Aleister and Estela make all the travel arrangements for those of us going back to California, including my folks and Allie’s. Castor carries me, Allie, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, Raj, Lila, Rebecca, and River. For once, Jake and Mike aren’t going to be flying. Pollux is taking our families. A third plane, smaller but no less luxurious, takes Jake’s parents back to Louisiana. They’re reluctant to leave him. They don’t want to be apart from their son, or their daughter, or their granddaughter. He assures them they can come visit soon, but that their daughter-in-law needs some time to recover first.

At the airport, Allie’s aunt and uncle hesitate to part from her on the tarmac. Allie stands with River in her arms, patiently enduring as Molly smoothes her hair and kisses her forehead, asking if she’s sure Allie doesn’t want her and Rob to wait at the airport in California to drive her home. When Allie insists she’s sure; that Molly and Rob should go ahead and get home so they can rest. Rob says they’ll make sure there are cars waiting for us to take us all back to the house in Laguna.

My parents board the plane before I arrive at the airport. On board the plane, I nestle up with Varyyn on one of the double-width leather seats. I wind my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He kisses the top of my head.

“Are you alright, my love?” he murmurs.

“...I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m just...disappointed. I knew my parents weren’t ready to meet you. But I had hoped...I don’t know. I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. Even if I knew it probably would be.”

Varyyn sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. “They may yet come around. Or they may not. In the end, it is up to them. All I can promise is that I will love you regardless of their decision.”

“...I love you, too.”

“You guys all set?” Raj’s voice makes me look up. The others are boarding behind us and finding their seats. Jake helps Allie settle in and get her seatbelt on, River still cradled in her arms.

“Are you sure a plane is really the best way to travel with a newborn?” Lila asks.

“When the choices are between a rental car, a train, or a private plane for a cross-country trip, a private plane is hands down the best option,” Rebecca declares. “I mean, if we were on a commercial plane, I’d think twice, since those things are basically flying petri dishes. But this plane has been deep-cleaned, unlike the train. It’s more comfortable than a car, and faster than both the car or the train.”

“Yeah, but what about her little ears? All the pressure?”

“The doctor says that if I nurse her during take-off and landing, that should keep her comfortable. Besides...I just want to be home.”

Home. The word washes through me in a way that comforts me even as it makes me want to cry. Images flash through my mind of the house I share with my husband, my best friend, her husband, and his best friend--and now, my little niece and goddaughter. Watching movies in the living room with Allie. Sharing dinner around the table or out on the balcony. Cuddling with Varyyn in the hot tub in the evening, letting the warm, swirling water sap the energy from my body, and then sliding into bed beside him and drifting off to sleep in his arms. At home, I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about losing anyone’s love. At home, I’m safe and free. I meet my best friend’s eyes, offering her a tired smile.

“I’m with you, Allie. Let’s get home.”

Raj

Nothing but the best for my friends, that’s my motto. I came to the house in Laguna Beach to make sure that my friends would have the best care while they needed it, and I waste no time in getting down to business. Alodia, Diego, and Mike need space to convalesce. But with a new baby in a huge house like this, there is a lot to be done. Jake and Varyyn can’t be expected to do everything, and that’s where I and Lila come in.

River is constantly monitored. Whenever she cries, someone is ready to come running to change her diaper, or to bring her to Alodia for feeding. I prepare meals ahead of time that can be easily heated and served, so no one goes hungry. Lila helps me cook and keep the house clean. Alodia’s aunt and uncle attempt to send cleaning and catering services to her at one point, but they end up being politely refused. Lila and I have everything under control, and none of us want strangers poking around here.

Alodia is occasionally moody, snapping at everyone to stop fussing over her, and she can’t wait to be free of this gilded cage and go back out into the world. This is usually followed by tearful apologies, with all of us assuring her that we don’t take it personally. She just had a baby, she’s allowed to be moody. Besides, the moment someone places River in her arms, it seems like everything is right in her world, and everything is right in our world, too.

...Except it’s not. Not entirely.

River is happy and healthy. Alodia is getting her strength back. Diego gets rid of the sling, and Mike starts to get around without the walker again. But underneath the surface, there is still trauma. There’s still fear.

“They’re having nightmares,” I tell Lila one morning as we’re preparing breakfast. She pauses for a moment with a knife poised above an orange before swiftly slicing it in half.

“Is that so surprising?” she asks. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but concentrates on making sure the thick, white heart of the orange half in her hand is positioned properly on the cone of the juicer before she presses down and begins to twist. Bright yellow juice splashes down into the container below.

“Well, no. But it is sad. Jake and Alodia especially should be concentrating on enjoying their new baby, not having nightmares and worrying about whether Rourke’s coming back for them.”

Lila pulls the now-deflated orange rind off the cone of the juicer and tosses it on the countertop. Ribbons of tattered orange flesh cling to the inside of the rind. She picks up the other half.

“...Do you ever have nightmares from Mr. Rourke?” she asks softly.

“Of course,” I reply. “Not as much as before, but I think we all have them sometimes. After what we all went through, I think I’d be more surprised if any of us didn’t.”

The twisting of the orange on the juicer slows just slightly. The toaster pops behind me, and I pluck four pieces of perfectly browned bread from the slots to toss onto a plate.

“...I have nightmares, too.”

The butter has been softening on the counter, and my knife slides easily through it. The heat from the toast softens it further, and it spreads cleanly.

“...You want to talk about it?”

Lila shakes her head, picking up her knife and another orange. “No. Not now. They don’t really matter anyway. They’re about things that happened in the past. I’m less scared of them than I am of what happens in the future.”

“Do you mean Rourke’s next move?”

“Of course that scares me. ...But more than that, I’m scared of him trying to use me against all of you again.”

“We won’t let that happen, Lila. You’re safe with us.”

“...But are you safe with me?”

I pause a moment before putting down my knife. I turn to Lila, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and turn her toward me.

“Lila...look at me. ...Has Rourke approached you at all since you’ve been with us again?”

Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine surprise. “What? No, I...that isn’t what I meant!”

I relax just a little. “...Okay.” I slowly take my hands away from her shoulders. “...You’d tell me if he had, wouldn’t you?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“Good. ...Because if he approaches you again, we can help you. We can help keep you out from under his thumb. ...We’re not gonna let him just have you back.”

A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I believe you.” She hastily turns back to the oranges in front of her. “You should...um...finish buttering before the toast gets cold.”

Overhead, the sharp, piercing cry of an infant rings through the air. I smile. Another morning blending into another day. It’s not perfect. We’ve got reason to worry. But for now, all is well.

Diego

I keep my head down as I move through the halls of my high school, clutching the straps of my worn-out backpack. It’s the same shabby gray one I’ve been carrying since freshman year. I’m a junior now, and the corners near the bottom are starting to fray where the sharp corners of paper-bag covered textbooks have dug into them.

My stomach growls. I skipped lunch again today. My parents were gone to work early again, and I didn’t leave myself enough time to make myself anything this morning. I barely had time to scarf down a banana for breakfast. I didn’t have enough cash for a cafeteria lunch, either, and besides, I preferred spending my lunch period playing on the computer in the library to sitting by myself at the end of a table filled with noisy strangers anyway.

If I can scrape together enough change from the bottom of my pencil case, I might have enough to get a bag of chips from the vending machine before I have to go to my after school job. But for now, my hunger isn’t all that sharp, and I am heading towards English Lit, the only class I currently look forward to.

The class is taught by Mr. Hunter. He also teaches the film-making class I want to sign up for next semester. He’s in his early fifties, and not handsome. He is tall and lanky, with gray-green eyes and a dark helmet of slicked back hair that sits atop a rectangular face. He has one of those mustaches that seemed to be popular in the 1970’s that always make a man look a little sketchy. He wears paisley shirts and slacks, and his voice reminds me of Bert from Sesame Street.

Mr. Hunter is the best teacher I’ve ever had at this school. When we studied Romeo and Juliet, he started off by giving us all a printed-off list of Shakespearean insults. When one girl tried to mumble her way through a line-reading, he shouted, “Put some feeling into it, you saucy wench!”

Mr. Hunter is also gay, and he does not attempt to hide this. When my parents ask about my teachers and which ones I like best, I leave this fact out. If they knew, they would make me switch to another class. Mr. Hunter has a picture of himself with his boyfriend on his desk. I’ve seen it when I’ve gone up to hand in assignments. His partner is bald and ruddy-skinned. He’s not handsome, either, but he has an open, friendly smile. Sometimes, I imagine them kissing. I worry that I have a crush on Mr. Hunter.

On the post of every classroom door is a laminated pink triangle, with a message proclaiming that this is a safe space for LGBTQ students. These triangles are mandated by the school district. Not every teacher honors them. One teacher actually tore hers down and refused to put it back up. She was fired. Last year, two girls were voted “Cutest Couple” in their senior class. I look at the triangles, prominently displayed as I walk into each classroom, and I don’t feel particularly safe. I feel safe in Mr. Hunter’s classroom.

Inside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, two boys from the football team act out a love poem with one of them in a curly blond wig and the bottom of his shirt tucked into his collar to create a crop top. They end with a flourish, with the boy in the wig jumping into the other boy’s arms and goosing him. Everyone applauds their performance, including Mr. Hunter.

Outside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, guys of all stripes growl “faggot” in my direction, and even the girls who are nice to me seem pitying more than anything. There’s a Pride club that meets after school two days a week, but I don’t dare join. I’m slowly realizing I can’t deny the truth anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can just announce it to the world.

I have just enough change to buy a bag of chips after school. I put it in my backpack as I make my way toward the library where I work for a few hours each day. I see Sam Dzugan eyeing me as I pass through the main doors to the school, and feel dread so familiar that it’s almost dull. Of all the bullies at this school, Sam is the worst. He also knows where I work. If he’s bored and hungry for a power fix tonight, I’m in for a rough walk home.

But he doesn’t follow me to work. At the library, I set to work filing back the books from the return cart. As I do, my mind wanders to the same place it always does: Alodia.

Alodia. My ideal friend. I conjure up an image of her beside me. She would be pretty, like all the most popular girls at school. I summon a small, pale figure with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. I talk with her in my head as I wander the aisles of the library with the return cart. I can picture her cheeky smile as clearly as if she were really beside me. I have spent many years getting the details of her perfect. Early incarnations of her were dark-haired. Green-eyed. Taller. I drew pictures of her. I wrote down her description in a private notebook that I kept under my mattress. But she never felt as real as when I wrote her with golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes.

She laughs at all my jokes as I work the rest of my shift. I forgot to eat the chips I bought, and I’m hungry enough now to start feeling dizzy. ...Alodia would invite me to dinner at her house. A huge, fancy house with a pool, where a chef would have prepared a gourmet meal.

“Don’t worry about Sam,” she would say. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll fight him off.” ...Because Alodia would be fierce. A fighter. Alodia was a hero. A hero who loved me unconditionally.

Alodia was never meant to be my lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover when I first dreamed Alodia into existence, which is probably why I always imagined her as a girl. I could scarcely imagine having a lover before I had a friend. That was what Alodia was to me. A friend. A friend who would always love me. A friend who I could tell my secrets to without judgment. A friend to fight for me and protect me, who saw value in me, and needed me back.

But my friend is a fantasy. And when I leave work and Sam corners me in the encroaching darkness, Alodia vanishes…

...I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of my room. Beside me, Varyyn grunts in his sleep and rolls over, the moonlight reflecting off his blue skin. I stare at his sleeping form for a moment, trying to take stock of myself. I’m shaking. My pajamas are damp with sweat. I feel cold. I feel sick and empty with fear. I don’t exactly remember what I was dreaming about, but one thought keeps echoing in my mind: Allie. I have to find Allie.

I slip out of bed as gently as I can while I’m still trembling. I don’t want to wake Varyyn. As I slip into the hall, motion-sensitive lights plugged into the sockets near the floor illuminate my path. My dream is still hazy, but bits and pieces trickle back as I shuffle down the hall with my hand on the wall. I was alone. Allie didn’t exist. It was a timeline that I have all but forgotten, and it felt entirely too real.

I need to find her. Or at least evidence that she still exists. The door to the nursery is slightly ajar, enough that I can see the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. I peek through the crack in the door and relief floods through me. Allie, bundled up in her robe and slippers, sits in the rocking chair with River in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. I exhale slowly. I should go back to bed, but I am not ready to let her out of my sight yet. I start to push open the door. She gasps a little, looking up sharply.

“Oh, Diego!” She smiles at me, settling back into her chair. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “...Did I wake up River?”

“No. I just fed her, so she’ll probably be out for an hour or two.” She looks up at me as I come to settle into the armchair across from her. “...What are you doing up?”

“...Bad dream,” I admit. “...About...about you. I had to come check on you or I was never going to get back to sleep.”

I half-expect her to joke about me being a creeper watching her while she sleeps, but instead she sighs. “...I kinda know the feeling.”

“Yeah. I bet you do.”

“You wanna stay up with me for awhile?”

“Yeah. But I feel like I should be telling you to get some sleep while you can.”

“I probably should be sleeping,” she admits. “...But I don’t really want to let her go.”

There’s not really much I feel like I need to say to that. I understand. I don’t think there’s anyone in this house who doesn’t empathize with that feeling in one way or another. Especially now.

“...Diego…?”

“Yeah, Allie?”

For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, though her mouth opens and closes a couple times. Then, she swallows and takes a deep breath.

“...I love you. I love you, and I love Jake, and Raj, and all the Catalysts…”

“We love you, too, Allie.”

“...When you imagined me. In that other timeline. When I didn’t come to be until the Island...did you ever imagine my future?”

I can’t help flinching. Her words feel like a cold pinprick at the top of my spine. “...Allie...I...I don’t really remember that timeline…”

“I know. I know. But...it happened. It existed. I was once born to be what you needed. What all the Catalysts needed. ...But now...now I have River. Someone new who needs me. She needs me more than any of my Catalysts.”

“I...I think that’s true,” I say slowly. “...We all love you, and we want you with us. But River is your child. She’s helpless and new. She needs your love and your care and your guidance to survive.”

“...I’m scared, Diego. I’m scared by how much I love her. I’m scared by how much she needs me.”

My earlier fear is being replaced with concern that is entirely for my friend. “...Allie...are you okay? Is this some kind of postpartum depression?”

“I don’t know what this is, Diego. I know that I love River more than I ever thought I could love anyone alive. I would have torn myself apart for my Catalysts without hesitation. I gave up my existence to give my Catalysts the world. ...But I can’t consider that anymore. Because River needs her mother.”

“Oh, Allie. That’s not a bad thing. None of us want you to tear yourself apart.”

“I know. ...But I am afraid of what happens if the world asks for it. ...If I end up at the Threshold again, or a new Raan’losti…” She looks up at me. “...Diego...I think I have to face what’s in the pool shed.”

I feel my blood run cold. I know what’s in the pool shed. The collection of objects that were left for us in the Crystal dimension when we went to rescue Tahira. Including…

“...Are you sure?”

She nods. “...It was left for me to find for a reason. I have to touch the Andromeda idol again.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry choices #Endless Summer #hero

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