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teklarn · 1 year

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maroon - k. bakugou

teklarn’s cliche’s and tropes masterlist (trope: patching up wounds)

katsuki bakugou x gn! reader

genre: fluff???

summary: katsuki stumbles into his office late at night to find is assistant, you, cleaning the mess that is his desk. unfortunate for him, he’s unable to hide the gash in his abdomen any longer and collapses into your arms, staining your outfit maroon.

warnings: cursing, blood, light descriptions of body horror (?), cursing, a bit slowburn, brief mention of drug use, UNEDITED

- - -

lights twinkled outside the window. the city view was breathtaking no matter the time of day.

it was a late night and an early morning for you. you’d been staying overtime lately, tidying up the mess that was pro-hero dynamight’s office. on any other day or week or month, bakugou was a very neat, organized young man.

he was done with paperwork a month before it was needed, his deadlines never needed to be pushed back. his hair was, perhaps, the only messy thing about it besides his attitude.

everyone knew of his rambunctious tendencies as a teen, but he’d calmed down since then. the sneers and glares from across the room were still prevalent, as well as his snappy attitude and short temper.

it wasn’t a rare occurrence to hear a raspy, angry voice bellowing from the end of the hall.

recently, bakugou had taken up a project with a few other heroes to take down a villain that had been rampaging the past few weeks. the identity of them was still unknown. citizens had started calling the villain “Kage,” or “Shadow,” reminiscent of the villain’s ability to hide in the shadows of other people, making everyone and no one a suspect at the same time.

It was impossible to track someone with no certain physical form. the pro’s weren’t even certain of what Kage looked like which only reinforced the strength of their foe.

the stress was pressing down harder and harder on bakugou’s shoulders. you could tell.

you were normally decent around him, never giving in to his tendency to draw out an argument (an argument being him lecturing you) or snapping back at him. you kept a nice attitude, you dressed modestly or for the occasion. you were a good assistant.

but you knew the stress was getting back when it started to affect you.

you’d been tired lately.

bakugou insisted a bit aggressively that you didn’t need to clean his office. you didn’t need to hover around him like a needy child waiting for the teacher to be off their lunch break.

he didn’t need you unless he called for you.

despite those worse, you often found yourself doing more than necessary, even little errands like morning coffee. bakugou was a routine man, never missing a meal. that doesn’t mean he hasn’t ever slipped up once in a while.

perhaps that was why you were the only assisstant that hadn’t run out of his office pissed off or swiping at fat tears.

you wanted to do these things for him, not only to ensure your job for the future, but also because he was busy just as much as he was organized.

he was so organized with his schedule that he would often forget to be organized in other places.

so here you were, late at night in dynamight’s office shuffling papers into neat piles, segregated into their given genres of work. a sigh fell from your lips, your eyes were tinted with red from the sleep creeping up your shoulders.

just one more pile to organize and you’d be done for the night.

too absorbed in your work, you nearly missed the door opening. the familiar shhk of the sliding door sounded.

bakugou came stumbling in, his legs confused by the weight of his own body, or perhaps the lack thereof.

“sir? what happened?” you raced towards your boss as he collapsed.

“what are you doing here, y/n?” his voice was raspy. a hoarse mess of stress and pain.

“cleaning your office. i thought it would be nice to have a clean workspace in the morning―you should sit down.”

“yeah...i can do it on my own.”

he knew what was good for him, prideful as he was.

“i’ll get some bandages...stay here.”

“no, no, i’ll be fine y/n.”

you took in the wound and the red blossom of blood spread across his hero uniform. there was more red than the iconic black and orange blending in.

the blood was dark, almost a deep deep purple.

“let me see where you’re hurt.” you started towards him, kneeling to view the wound. you dared to slip your hands past his, fingertips grazing upon each other’s. his uniform was torn, revealing a large gash stretching from his shoulder blade and down the side of his abdomen, ending where his ribcage stopped.

“i will be fine, y/n. go home.”

“sir―”

“go. home. i can deal with this by myself without your incessant nagging.”

your brow furrowed. “i can’t say that working with you is pleasant all the time, sir, but if you must know, i will lose my job if i don’t tend to you right now.”

this seemed to take him by a bit of surprise. you were always friendly to him, but you needed to be. for your job.

“seriously? your job?”

“i value it a lot, sir.”

“stop. stop, enough with the sir. just bakugou right now, okay?”

“it’s really important we keep a professional environment right now.”

“aren’t you supposed to be doing what i want?”

your face sunk into a repulsive attitude.

“okay, whatever, just...get the first aid kit.” he groaned, adjusting his position in the cushioned seat. patches of blood were beginning to appear on the teal fabric. you made a mental note of needing to clean that up later. or just replace the chair entirely.

you fetched the first aid kit and hurried back.

“we should call a doctor right now so you’re patched up by the time the ambulence arrives.”

“no,” bakugou said, resting a hand on yours as you began to reach for your phone.

“you need help―”

“no more sirens for today. please.”

you nearly jumped back at his manners.

“i don’t want to hear anymore crying. just need to catch this damn villain.”

“and you can do that once you’re better, bakugou. so we should call the ambulence.”

he shook his head. “later. please. i will be fine. i’ve faced injuries worse than this without terrible consequences. it’s bad but it’s not like he pierced anything vital. just think...think of it as a really big papercut. that’s a bit deep. a papercut with a knife.”

you paused for a moment, slowly reaching for the kit and pulling out a disinfectant. you took a cloth and began dabbing some on.

“can i ask...what happened?”

“bitch villain can go into people’s shadows ‘n manipulate them and shit. their shadows, i mean. did that to me. right under my nose. i could tell something was off. kept feeling...watched. then I turned around and got scared by my own damn shadow.” he winced as the disinfectant stung him.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine.” he looked around the room. at the organized shelves, at the paper stacks on his desk. “you cleaned all my shit up, huh?”

you mimicked him, glancing around before getting back to work. “yeah. you didn’t seem to have much time on your hands and work has been piling up because of this case. i know you insist you don’t need help but as your assistant i―”

“thank you.”

“...what?”

“i’ve never thanked you for all the shit you do for me.”

you hid the smile creeping up your cheek. “i like to think of myself as a good assistant.”

“yeah, you are. don’t let it get to your head, dumbass.”

you peered up at him and noticed a scarlet tint on his cheeks, almost as deep as the color now staining your hands. it just occurred to you that when he wasn’t yelling and his face wasn’t contorted with rage, he was actually quite handsome.

he had scruffy hair that told everyone he was still a young man, but the eyes of an old soul. he wore porcelain skin and a sharp jawline like a glass doll would.

he cleared his throat, setting you off balance for a moment and snapping you back into reality.

“keep staring, i dare you.”

you glared up at him, holding his gaze with a rare intensity. you ignored the head rushing to your cheeks, flushing your ears. “must you be so irritable all the time?”

bakugou, despite the pain in his side, let out a laugh. it filled the room with a warmth you ached to feel again.

“so you’ve been lying to me this whole time? with the ‘sweet assistant’ act? i feel so betrayed.”

you’d never seen him so...relaxed. so easy going. it almost reminded you of the light-hearted red riot, a man who seemed to never face any troubles.

he had dimples, a sweet feature you never imagined someone like bakugou to have.

“unfortunately, yes. you can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“but only sometimes?”

you chuckled, blushing. “maybe. only sometimes.”

“what other times have i not been...a pain in the ass?”

the simplicity of both of your attitudes seemed to ease his pain just a bit, so you let go of your professional nature and let out another breathy chuckle.

“well, when you’re not yelling or pissed off, then you’re all right i guess,” you joked.

“so when i’m not me?”

you looked up at him. “no, i was kidding...”

he grinned mischievously. “so was i.”

“you’re...making a joke?”

“i take my job seriously. but i need a laugh when i’m fucking bleeding out.”

you hurried back to work, patching up the wound.

bakugou wasn’t exceptionally nice to you, not that he was to anyone. but he seemed almost...high on something? he wasn’t, as you could evidently tell. but he was all too smiley, too child-like in this intimate presence of yours. on normal days, bakugou wasn’t...nasty to you as he was to other people.

you averted your gaze down to the kit, pretending to gather gauze to distract yourself from the color of red dusting your cheeks and the crimson gaze of bakugou staring at you, deep as a maroon sea.

#bakugou #boku no hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #fluff #angst #bnha angst #teklarn's masterlists #myhero #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia

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kazemi-archive · 2 years

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When vs If

Pairing: Oikawa Toru x Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Genre: Angst

Warnings: arguments, mentions of betrayal, false hope, end of relationship, lots of tears, heavy angst

Summary: “You said ‘if’.” “What are you talking about?” “You said ‘if we end up married one day.’ When did it stop being ‘when we get married’?”

Part One of Desiderium

A/N: If dialogue is in blue, this is irl something that was said to me or by me. Thank you for being here live for my therapy.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS AND THE AUTHORS NOTE ON THE MASTERLIST ON MY BLOG BEFORE READING

I had convinced myself that I was overreacting. Nothing was wrong. I was being paranoid based off of past experiences. I had convinced myself or he had convinced me. I was imagining it when I thought he was acting like something had been bothering him. I was being insecure every time I asked, just to make sure, when he was acting like something was wrong, when he swore nothing was wrong and he was just tired. “Are you going to break up with me?” He had convinced me that I was overreacting when he always replied the same answer. “Of course not baby, you’re never going to get rid of me. I’m here to annoy you for the rest of our lives.”

He convinced me to ignore the gut feeling I had about it. Just three days ago, when we were driving to look at apartments, he brought up just building ourselves a house, like he knew I wanted to do. That eventually, when we wanted to move cities, it could become a summer vacation home and we could build another to raise our kids in. He convinced me when he talked to his family about how I was an addition to the family, when his family praised me for taking care of him.

I always took care of him, I packed him lunches and made breakfasts and dinners. I made sure the laundry was done and tried to clean. I made sure I was reminding him to take care of himself too, to not overstress himself as I did exactly that. But every time I crashed down and thought that maybe my love was overbearing and that I didn’t get the same reciprocation. Every time I asked “are you going to break up with me,” he assured me he wasn’t. He peppered my cheeks with kisses and held me while I sniffled to hold back tears.

Ending college was hard, there were so many unknowns. Finishing up the last project of the year, I was way past my deadline for it, but I had an indefinite extension, I just had to get it in by the end of summer. The concern of where we would live next year, our original decision of no roommates had morphed into him slowly trying to push the idea of sharing a space more. A last resort, he called it. I worked two jobs trying to prepare to move, trying to avoid the stress of thinking about it and to make sure that we had the money for our new place.

Today was the end to a long week. Sunday. My last shift until the next Monday. We’d agreed on taking the whole week off to pack our house, to move into a storage unit and then we were supposed to crash at Makki and Mattsun’s until we heard back from the complex we were putting an application into tomorrow.

I was off by 3. My boss having let me off early so that I could go home and start packing. I lost track of time, a show playing in the background as I packed all the clothes I wouldn’t need for the next three weeks (just to be sure). It was almost 8 before I decided on a small break. Almost 8 until I realized that I hadn’t heard from Tōru all day. The only thing that had brought it to my attention was his name finally popping up on my phone.

He was supposed to be off at 8:30. Just 30 more minutes before he would be coming home and we could make our plan on how to tackle this week and everything else moving forward. He’d sent me a snapchat with a filter on and a silly look on his face. I laughed a little and sent one back. It was mostly silly pictures sent back and forth spare the small conversation of “how was your day today?” “long.” “yeah, me too. I’m exhausted.”

It was finally time for him to be off, I could tell by the way that the scenery behind him changed from inside to the open sky of the parking lot. I decided to ask if he wanted to get food I’d been craving. How do you feel about getting pizza when you come home?

That was when the dreaded text came in. The worst thing you could say to an overthinker. Okay, I just want to talk to you about something first.

My heart had stopped in my chest. The sudden pressure of tightness winding from my heart and consuming my lungs. About what? Should I be anxious? He took too long to open it and the bubbling anxiety forced me to hit call on his number. I was easily greeted by the rumble of his car engine when he picked up. “Should I be anxious?” I asked and I heard him sigh.

“No, no sorry. I know that’s sucky wording, I just wanted to sit down and have a conversation about some things.”

I could hear the tightness in my voice as I spoke. “Okay, what things?”

“Love, I’m gonna be home in like 5 minutes and we’ll talk.” I felt my legs lift me off of our shared bed and take me downstairs as he spoke, my need to pace rising, trying to pace out all the anxiety building.

I didn’t want to push him. “Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too, I’ll be right there.”

I’d found myself in the garage, tucked myself safely into the little corner of the couch we kept in there. Brought my knees to my chest and covered myself in a blanket. Trying to will my anxiety to stop. He said he wasn’t leaving you. He just wants to talk.

“What are you doing out here?” He’d asked when he found me after looking through the house. “I thought you’d be in our room.”

“I had anxiety and just kinda ended up here.” I mumbled and he nodded. He stayed standing. “Tōru, can you please tell me what’s up?”

He took a deep sigh before starting. “There’s a few things that have been bothering me about our relationship and I just want to try and talk them out before I keep bottling them up. Before they get so bad that they aren’t fixable anymore.”

I felt the anxiety build up even more and I winced. I had been doing something wrong. Like always. And then there was a quick rush of anger. Keep bottling them up. He had convinced me that I was imagining it. He had convinced me that the gut feeling I had about something being wrong with him was fucking incorrect. I wanted to scream but all I did was whisper, “okay.”

He listed out his reasons and I tried to stay quiet, tried to listen, tried to look at him. But every time I looked at him I could see him breaking my heart a million times. I couldn’t hold the contact for very long. I was trying to not cry, I was trying to explain myself when he said it was something I did. I was apologizing, my apologies formed in the frame of, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I did it because… I never got to finish my reasons out with another “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“I don’t get why you have to argue with me.” He exclaimed, cutting me off. Is that what I was doing? Was I arguing. “I’m just trying to tell you what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

“I’m not trying to argue!” I defended myself. “I was just explaining why I did it so you could see where I was coming from.” I wiped my palms against my cheeks in frustration, trying desperately to keep the tears back. “Its easier to fix if we get where the other is coming from, we can find somewhere to meet in the middle.” I whimpered at the eyeroll I knew was subconscious. “Please, this is hard for me. It feels like you’re breaking up with me.”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair quickly. “I’m not breaking up with you. I told you that.” The words should have been comforting, but something about them made me more on edge, the tone in which he said them.

“Yeah,” I scoffed, my anger getting a hold of me a little more, trying to protect myself, “you also told me, repeatedly, that nothing was wrong.” His eyes snapped back to me but I quickly looked away. The second he looked at me softly I would do anything he asked, I would lose myself, lose my will to fight for myself to be heard. “Now here you are, telling me that you were lying to me.” I could feel a tear escape and I quickly brushed it away. “How do I know you were telling the truth every time you said you weren’t going to leave me.”

“Why don’t you believe me? Huh?” He was raising his voice, something he did rarely. “Is it trust issues or what?” He spit the words out, like they tasted bad on his tongue and I could see him fling his arms in the air from the corner of my eye. “You are always ‘your tone of voice’ and ‘your body language’ says… God! Can you not just believe me!” He groaned in frustration or annoyance, I couldn’t tell, maybe it was a mix of both.

“I’m sorry, I just pick up on the way you act and underlying tones, its a bad habit I’m trying to stop.” I muttered, trying to drag my eyes back to him. He was looking down at me, standing instead of sitting on the couch with me, shaking his head.

“You can’t just believe me? I don’t get your whole thing about tone and whatever. But if we get married one day-”

I cut him off quickly, my eyes snapping up to look at his face. “What do you mean ‘if’?”

“What?” Genuine confusion crossed his face as he looked back at me, confused at the wide-eyed look I gave him. I knew that terror was seeping into each of my features.

“You said ‘if we get married one day’.”

“Yeah.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “And?”

“When did that become ‘if’?” I asked quietly, my voice barely coming out. “It’s always been ‘when we get married,’ ‘when we have kids,’ ‘when’.” He sighed and bit his lip out of what I assumed was nerves. “It’s always been ‘when’ for me and I thought it was for you too. So when did ‘when’ become ‘if’?”

“I don’t know.” He took a step back away from me, turning his body slightly away from me. It didn’t go unnoticed by me. “A couple months ago?”

I scoffed in disbelief. A couple months. He’s been lying to me for a couple months. “Okay,” I whispered, “you wanna know why I read into tone and body language?” I asked and he rolled his eyes again. I didn’t care and I kept talking. “You just stepped away from me when you were talking about that. When you were talking about mentally changing the way you thought about us being together long term, you physically put distance between us. How am I supposed to take that?”

“You’re not!” He exclaimed. “I got tired of standing without moving.”

“Okay, why do you have to be standing, you can’t put yourself on the same level as me. You have to be on a different level, to have all the control in this conversation. Like you’ve decided how this conversation ends.”

“Oh my god!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Stop fucking reading into everything!” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that he had to deal with this. To deal with me. “You want to talk about body language? Then what the hell does it mean that you can’t seem to look at me this entire conversation when all I’ve been doing is looking at you!”

“That I’m worried if I look at you I’ll cry. That I don’t want to cry because I know you need this off your chest and you’ll blame yourself and stop if I cry.” That if I look at him, at Oikawa Toru, the man I decided was the love of my life, I would see what I saw the very first day I met him and he gave me that saccharine smile. I would see him breaking me into a million little pieces. “Please just sit down.” I whispered, begged him.

“Seriously?” He scoffed but collapsed on the other end of the couch. Sitting closer to the edge of it and leaning far back into the seat, a position that screamed ‘I don’t care.’ “This is really better for you?”

I winced at the harshness of his tone. The condescension seeping through his words. He thought I was being ridiculous. I hated it, but it was better than him standing and physically looking down at me. “Yes.” He sighs and shakes his head but stays silent. “Let’s just talk through this and we can fix it. We can find a compromise.” I swallowed hard trying to explain. I was trying, ‘I’m going to stop doing…’ It was fine for a little bit. Until I started to ask for things too. “I will try to stop raising my voice, I just need you to tell me I am. I don’t realize it a lot, we have different views on yelling. I need you to tell me.”

“I do!” He was rolling his eyes but he was staring straight ahead, not at me. “I say, ‘why are we yelling?’ is that not telling you that you’re yelling?”

“That’s not what I mean, I can’t tell you why, I don’t understand it, but it doesn’t click for me. It makes me think you’re talking down to me and I know you don’t mean to. I just need you to tell me ‘y/n you are yelling right now’.”

He puffed air out of his nose, hands running through his hair again. “That doesn’t fucking make sense. I don’t understand how your brain works.” I could feel the tightening in my chest becoming overwhelming. I didn’t understand it either. “Whatever, fine.”

“Could you help me around the house too, I know I’ve been slacking on some of the chores like groceries and laundry, but I need help. You only ever get groceries if I’m already going and even then, sometimes you don’t come. And I always do your laundry too but you only ever do yours unless I ask you specifically.” Small things to me, I didn’t mind doing them, but I knew I needed help. And if I was attempting to change for him I needed something back. Something to help me ease up on my stress.

It went on for a little longer, what I thought were minor requests being met with annoyance and hesitation. Until he stopped responding all together. It was like I could see it happening, him disengaging, the gears slowing down in his head as they settled on a solution.

“Please talk to me.” I begged. I couldn’t let him get caught in his head. “Don’t go quiet. Tell me what you’re thinking.” My voice was quiet and wet, tears threatening to spill more than they already had. “I know you’re getting in your head. I can see it happening.”

He shook his head softly, there was no eye roll paired with it this time. He was staring blankly at the wall in front of us, his fingers rubbing into his temple. “I’m trying to decide if this is even worth it.”

I froze in place, my body turning into a statue. “What?”

“I don’t know if this is worth it.” He said it plainly, like it was just a fact, no emotions attached to it. I was pretty sure that I could physically feel my heart tearing. “Is this even something worth fixing? Is it worth the effort?”

“What do you mean?” I squeaked out. This had to be a nightmare. “Of course it's worth it to try. It’s us. Years of us, of course it’s worth trying.” I would wake up and it would never have happened. “Tōru, look at me please.” He turned his head slowly, an apologetic look in his eyes. I would wake up and this would’ve been a scene my anxiety created in my head. “Tōru are you breaking up with me?” I would open my eyes and still be waiting for him to come home from work.

His eyes looked glossy as he nodded his head. “I’m so sorry.”

All of the times that I thought ‘what if he breaks up with me?’ I had never thought ‘when he breaks up with me.’

A/N: thanks for coming to my public therapy session ✌🏻✌🏻

#𓇻 Desiderium

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miikishii · 9 months

Text

To Hold the Sea | Ch. 3

main masterlist

series masterpost | previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: a little bit of overtime surprisingly brings you peace.

warnings: ango being very sweet because that’s who he is. argue with a wall.

The time you spent getting yourself ready for the day put you behind schedule, but when you arrive at the office you see Ango must be too. He’s usually not late, but you brush it off as a side effect of his job. You make yourself something to drink while you wait. When he arrives, he doesn’t wait for Haruno to bring him in, he just busts into your office disheveled,

“Sorry! I was asked to complete something before I left, it was-”

“It’s fine, let’s just get to work.” His work is always overwhelming him, you understand.

“Thank you.” His body falls onto the couch heavy with stress.

The two of you try your best to finish before the work day ends given that tonight’s the deadline, but it looks like you’ll have to do some overtime.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t finish in time, it’s my fault.” he rubs his eyes and sighs,

“It’s fine, it’ll probably only be another hour.”

He nods and the two of you work as fast as possible, managing to cut it down to just half an hour’s work. The clock reads 5:30 p.m.; you’re getting hungry. As you’re packing up, your stomach growls you clutch it with embarrassment, Ango looks up at you,

“Would you like to get something to eat?”

“I just went out last night, I’ve been-”

“It’s on me, It’s my fault we worked late.” you pause for a moment, thinking it over.

“Sure.”

You finish tidying your office and Ango waits for you at the end of the hall. You walk down the stairs and to his car in silence.

“Where would you like to go?” he asks,

“I just had noodles last night so I’m not in the mood.”

“How about sushi?”

“That’ll be fine, the cheap place up the street?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. It’s not as awkward as you thought, probably because you both spent the day together and are incredibly tired. You’re seated across from each other. The place is small, but it’s cozy. You’ve been here with him before, many years ago. You stare at him discreetly through your menu, but he catches you and gives you a crooked look,

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

He looks back at his menu. You don't miss the way his glasses slide down his nose. Nor do you miss the way the low light compliments his charmingly tired look. He starts to talk to you about what he wants to get, you’re only half listening.

“What were you going to order? I don’t mind sharing.”

“Uhh, I was fine with whatever. I don’t mind sharing either.”

He nods. He puts in the order and sips his water, he has nothing to say, at least not anything appropriate for public discussion. You do the same, he laughs to himself.

“Do we really have nothing to talk about?” he chuckles wearily

“I don’t think either of us cares for small talk.”

“Of course, but we could catch up.”

“What do you do for work nowadays?” You deadpan.

“Haha. very funny.”

The conversation falls flat again, he sips his water again to occupy himself.

“...How’s Dazai?”

“He’s fine. Not happy to accept your help.”

“I can tell.”

“Since the agency offers us dorms he doesn’t live with me anymore.”

“Oh.” he tries to act uninterested

“He still stays over, though, says it’s comfier.”

“Mhm.”

The food arrives quickly and suddenly your hunger catches up to you. He merely picks at his plate, whether he lost his appetite or had none in the first place is unknown to you. While you aren’t paying attention he orders more of what you ate quickest, something only someone as attentive as him would do. It puts a smile on your face; you try to stifle it as fast as possible. He pays the bill without a word about it. As he’s driving you home, you contemplate your options. As he pulls up, you know your resolve is weak, but you act anyway,

“There’s some ice cream in my freezer, you’re welcome to come have some.”

He thinks it over carefully,

“Sure, thank you.”

“Well, you paid for dinner, it’s the least I could do.”

“Don’t worry about dinner, it was my fault we ran late.”

As you unlock your door you question your decision. You get out some bowls and spoons, and Ango sits down at your counter. You pass him a bowl and walk towards your couch.

“Wanna watch something?”

“Oh, sure.”

You put on a show you’ve already seen before and settle in. You don’t pay any attention to it. He’s close to you. He accepted your offer to come inside. You worry it was a bad decision, letting him in, going out to dinner, letting him back into your life. You missed him. But again, you remember the reason things ended, too.

note: was giggling and kicking my feet writing some of this.

#dazai x reader #ango x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #ango sakaguchi #bsd ango #bsd imagines #dazai imagines #bsd fluff

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literaturehoeenergy · 3 years

Text

Best Friends - Spencer Shay

pairing: Spencer Shay x fem!reader

genre: fluffy; friends to lovers situation

warnings: none

word count: 792

request: no

a/n: Well, I said the world needed more Spencer Shay fan fiction, so here we are. I hope that anyone who finds this also loves Spencer as much as I do.

Living with Freddie and my Aunt Marissa wasn't all bad. I didn't have to pay for room and board while I was in college, and I got to meet Freddie’s cute little friends, and very specifically, I got to meet Spencer Shay. Granted, the constant cleaning of my entire body by Aunt Marissa was annoying, and her weird rules for Freddie and I (despite me being an entire adult) were a little strict, the fact that I got to hang out with Spencer was kind of worth it. I was in my third year of college when I moved in with the Bensons, and Spencer was in an unknown year of being a law school drop out artist and legal guardian of Carly. We were close enough in age to get along, even though Aunt Marissa didn't really approve. I believe her exact words were, “he's a tall, dirty man child”.

This didn't prevent a friendship blossoming, obviously. In fact, I think it just spurred it on. Nonetheless, as the years went on, Spencer and I got closer, and I eventually fell in love with him because who wouldn't. I never intended on telling him, I graduated not too long after we met and was working as an English teacher at Freddie, Sam, and Carly’s high school, so I had enough on my plate, and Spencer never seemed very interested in me that way. He was always going on dates with new girls or working on a new sculpture. Carly, Freddie, and Sam all seemed to think differently than me, but I wasn't stupid. Spencer was a catch, anyone would be lucky to have him.

After I graduated, I finally got an apartment of my own in Bushwell Plaza down the hall from the Bensons and the Shays. Spencer frequently popped in to invite me to get smoothies or coffee, or to get away from the teenage energy that was always in his apartment. This day in particular was not ideal for such company, I had a ton of midterm essays to grade and I wasn't even close to being done despite the deadline being only a few days away. I sighed heavily when my front door opened, spotting Spencer out of the corner of my eye. “Hey lady, whatcha up to?” I set my pen down, glancing over at him as he settled into the couch next to me.

“Look, Spence, as much as I love your company, I don't really have the time today to hang out.” It came out harsher than I intended, but he just leaned forward onto his knees, setting a hand on my back.

“That's okay, I could tell you were stressed when I saw you this morning.” I sighed, leaning into his side. “Here, how about I make you some dinner, you keep grading, and then I'll help you try to relax.”

“Spence, you don't have t--”

“I want to, Y/N. I can't have my best friend all stressed out.” I laughed lightly, meeting his eyes. “Seriously, don't worry about it. If anyone can get through this, it's you.”

“Thanks, Spence.”

A couple hours passed before Spencer put a blindfold over my eyes and removed all my work from my coffee table. “Voilà!” I giggled as he settled next to me again, removing my blindfold and gesturing broadly to the plates on my coffee table.

“Aw, my favorite! How did you know?” He scoffed, handing me a fork.

“I know everything about you, Y/N.” My breath hitched in my throat, making the laugh I let out after sound strained.

“No you don’t.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, shoving pasta into his mouth. “I don’t know everything about you either, Spence.” We kept talking about random things throughout the meal before I broke it to him that I had to keep grading otherwise I wouldn’t meet the deadline to put all my grades in for the midterms.

“Okay, okay, I get the hint,” he chuckled. “We should do something after you grade. It’s spring break next week right?” I nodded. “Well I think that you and I should go on a trip, like out to the mountains in a cabin or something.”

“You wanna go on a trip with me?”

“Yeah! I’ve never seen you go on a trip anywhere, you deserve to get away. And who better to get away with than your best friend?” I smiled up at him, sighing.

“You know, that would be nice. Let’s do it.”

“Yes! I’ll go and do some research and make the plans and everything. You just grade away. I’ll see you later.” I waved as he closed my front door, falling back onto my couch with a huff. A whole week vacation with Spencer?

*******************************************************************

#Spencer Shay #iCarly #Spencer Shay fan fiction #Spencer Shay x reader #Spencer Shay imagine

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ghstandpucks · 3 years

Text

Nothin’ Like You ~ Cale Makar

In honor of reaching over 200 followers, here is a song fic based on Dan and Shay’s Nothin’ Like You. I have a few requests in my inbox that I will be working on. If you have any, feel free to send them in using this prompt! Thank you for 200!!!

Master List

I remember when I first met you Sipping coffee in a corner booth You were twirling your hair And I just had to stare For a minute or two

Cale was with Tyson and J.T. after practice one Wednesday afternoon. The three of them decided to stop and get some coffee as it was a cold winter day outside. They were waiting in line talking about something E.J. had said earlier that day when Cale’s eyes landed on you in the back corner by a window. You had a cup of coffee and were staring at your laptop, completely oblivious to the world around you. He couldn’t help but stare as you wound and un-wound a strand of hair around your finger, every so often stopping to type something. Tyson kept talking as J.T. realized their defenseman was completely distracted by something. Following his line of sight, he chuckled. “See something you like? Or someone?” he chirped his teammate. Cale started to turn red as he looked away from you.

“I thought maybe I knew her,” he muttered. Tyson had stopped his monologue and was paying attention also now. He looked over as you had your head buried in a book, slowly typing something out.

“How did she carry all those books?” he asked with a slight laugh. Cale had noticed the numerous books you had scattered around the table. Didn’t people just do their research online now? “You like studious girls Makar?” Tyson elbowed him.

I was laughing at your stack of books Then you shot me that smile Hey beautiful girl, in your own little world Let me in it

“Man shut up,” Cale said turning on his friend. Unknowingly to them though, you had actually heard all the commotion. It was why you enjoyed doing your research in coffee shops; the garbled noises made it easier for you to concentrate. This doesn’t mean that you had heard what they said exactly, but who could really miss three hockey players walking into a small coffee shop in the middle of the week.

You looked up right as Cale was glancing back over at you. As you locked eyes, you sent him a shy smile and looked back down, trying to focus on your work again. Of course you knew who they were, all of Denver practically did. You were just an overstressed grad student with too many deadlines coming up though; he was probably just looking around the place.

The three of them ordered their coffees, and Cale noticed that you had looked sadly at your cup after taking a sip. He walked up to the counter and got the attention of the barista. “What did that girl in the corner order?” he asked, and was told it was a caramel latte. “I’ll take one of those too,” Cale said, paying for a second coffee. J.T. gave Tyson a look before he could say anything as they watched Cale walk over to you with two coffee cups.

You got all of my attention And you ain't even trying Yeah, you're my kind of different And I never seen nothin'

Nothin' like you

“Um hi. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you could use this,” Cale said, announcing his presence at your table. You looked up, slightly startled as you had been engrossed in a thought you had while typing out your research. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled nervously.

“No, you’re fine! Sorry, I had a train of thought going,” you sputtered out just as nervous as him. “Thank you, that’s very kind. What do I owe you?” you asked, instinctively reaching for your wallet. Cale shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to think of what the guys on the team might say in this situation. “Your number maybe?” he made a face like he couldn’t believe he just said that, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Um, sure, yeah,” you squeaked out, writing your number on a piece of notebook paper and ripping it out to give to him. “I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“Cale,” he said, taking the paper from you. He was about to ask what you were doing when Tyson called out to him.

“Makar, are you coming?” Cale turned toward his friends who had big, goofy grins on their faces watching the interaction. You blushed slightly at the thought of others watching you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll text you,” he stuttered out, putting your number into his pocket. You smiled softly at him and nodded.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you said and he smiled at you.

“My pleasure.”

Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing when there ain’t no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby

Cale had texted you like he said he would that same evening. You honestly weren’t expecting it, but felt completely giddy when you saw the unknown number and read his message. He explained that he would be gone on a road trip with the Avs for the next week, but would like to take you to dinner when he got back. You accepted and plans were made; the two of you talking regularly throughout the week getting to know each other better.

The Avs returned home on Thursday, and a few hours later Cale was at your apartment knocking on your door. He had brought you flowers and you couldn’t help but smile at the kind gesture. The two of you made your way to dinner, talking the whole time. He had just finished telling you a funny story from the trip, beaming at the giggle he had enticed from you when your food arrived. As you looked down at your plate, you started moving your head and shoulders in an excited fashion. “Are you dancing?” Cale questioned you with a chuckle. You stopped immediately.

“Oh my gosh, sorry. I tend to have a happy dance with food. It’s a weird family thing. I don’t even realize I do it until it’s pointed out to me,” you rambled on, face turning red. Cale shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I though it was cute,” he said in a low tone. You smiled and giggled nervously; Cale deciding then and there that he wanted to continue seeing that smile for as long as you would let him.

Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doin’ your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you

You were working on your research the following Friday night, having the game on in the background. Cale had taken you out to dinner once more since your first date, and the two of you had been nonstop texting. The Avs had won, Cale scoring that night. After the game you were about to text him a ‘congratulations’ when your phone started to ring, the caller ID showing it was him. “Congratulations!” you said as you answered and heard him chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Thanks Y/N. Hey, what are you doing tonight?” he asked, and you heard a few wolf whistles behind him with muttered ‘shut ups’ coming from the defenseman.

“I’ve just been working on my research since I got out of class earlier. Why?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Come out with us. We’re all going out to celebrate,” he said in a more hushed tone, and you could imagine him trying to avoid the whole locker room from hearing.

“Cale, I would love to but I’m not dressed to go out,” you said.

“Who cares. Please? I would like you to come,” he pleaded with you ever so slightly. You looked down at your outfit, deciding it wouldn’t take much to put on some jeans quickly. Your Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt didn’t look terrible at least.

“Text me the address,” you said into the phone, and you could hear the excitement in Cale’s voice as he said he would.

When you're wearing them worn out jeans Purple untied shoestrings You're a light in the dark And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy

Showing up to the bar, you became a little self-conscious. Maybe you should have changed? The second Cale spotted you though, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The front of your band tee was tucked into your ripped black jeans, your white converse showing years of wear as they were no longer exactly white and the shoelaces were frayed at the ends. Cale knew you were probably stressed with your research, and yet you still had the softest smile and a sparkle in your eyes when you found him in the crowd. “You made it,” he whispered into your hair as he hugged you close. He felt you giggle into his chest.

“Couldn’t let you down,” you answered simply. Cale smiled at you and took your hand, leading you over to a table where some of the team was sitting.

“Coffee shop girl!” A slightly tipsy Tyson shouted.

“Oh my God,” Cale muttered as you giggled. You were introduced to everyone as you took a seat between Cale and someone he called Gravy.

“So what is your research on?” Gabriel Landeskog asked when you said you were a grad student at the University of Denver.

“The archaeology of Zoroastrianism,” you said, and caught many blank stares.

“Zoro what?” Andre asked.

“It’s an ancient Persian religion. Today’s modern practices of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism all have common ties to it,” you briefly explained.

“Wait, that was the religion Freddie Mercury practiced,” Sam Girard commented, looking interested. You nodded.

“That’s how most people have heard of it now,” you responded.

“What is your research trying to say about it?” he asked.

“So I’m basically writing a big literature review to make sure it is preserved in the archaeological record. It was the first dualistic religion in a time where civilizations had their pantheons to believe in. It spread with the Persian conquest, but no one they conquered was ever forced to convert to it. Now it’s a rare religion to come across, and their numbers keep getting smaller. With it being one of the oldest organized religions, it needs to be preserved and the traditions documented before we lose it all through modernization attempts.” To you, your explanation was simple and one that you had said many times whenever asked what you were studying. It seemed you had impressed the table though, and you slightly blushed as a few questions started flying your way. You didn’t notice Cale softly smiling at you while you talked about a topic that you loved so much; he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His teammates noticed though, and boy were they going to give it to him at practice.

I love the way that you kiss me In front of everybody So baby come and kiss me They ain't ever seen nothin'

Nothin' like you

The following day at practice, the guys were giving Cale crap for how head over heels he seemed for you. The fact he hadn’t kissed you yet was another source of ridicule. Everyone who had met you ended up adoring you within the time span that you spent with them at the bar; and they could easily see that their defenseman was taken by you as his cheeks would turn red at the mention of your name. They were all happy for him, but that didn’t mean the chirping would stop.

They had another home game to play the following day, and Gabe convinced Cale to invite you and have you sit with Mel and Linnea. Later that day Cale went to your apartment and handed you his jersey, asking you to be there for the game. You couldn’t say no to him, not that you wanted to anyways. That Sunday you put on the jersey and headed to the stadium. Meeting Mel at the front, you quickly got along and enjoyed the game. The Avs came out victorious again, and you followed the captain’s wife to the locker rooms. You stepped aside as Gabe made his way over to his wife, feeling a little out of place. Luckily for you, Cale wasn’t far behind.

He didn’t know if it was from the guys comments or seeing you in his jersey, but one second he was smiling widely at you, then the next his lips were on yours and his hands on your waist. Without a second thought, you kissed him back, your hands holding his face to yours. You were both grinning ear to ear as you separated, chirps flying all around but all in good nature. Giggling, you hid your face in Cale’s chest as his face turned bright red.

Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing when there ain’t no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you, yeah

A year had passed and you were at the end of your grad program. You were set to present your research at the graduate fair, having been selected to present your research on behalf of your department. The Avs were scheduled to be flying back home that day, but Cale wasn’t sure if he would be there in time to see you present. You told him that it was fine, that you understood; and you really did. He was hell bent on making it though. You weren’t that surprised when you saw Cale sneaking into the back of the auditorium. What did surprise you was that half the team had followed him in. Having become good friends with them, they wanted to be there to support you too. As your name was announced, you swear you had the loudest applause.

You calmly presented your research, smiling at Cale when you finished and a few questions were thrown your way. Having worked so hard, the questions were simple to answer. Finding Cale afterward, he took your poster from you and the two of you made your way to his apartment so he could unpack from the trip. Changing into some leggings and one of his shirts, you showed him the bound copy of your 105 page thesis. He was so proud of you and couldn’t help but share the cover on his Insta story. The two of you cuddle and slept better that night then you had in a while. For him it was being back home with you, and you finally had the stress of your research gone since the first time you met him.

Nothin' like you Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing in the rain no music Nothin' like you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt Whole party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you, yeah

Once you graduated, Cale asked you to move in with him. You had secured a job at a museum as a curator in their Antient History section. Setting up an exhibit all morning, you met up with Cale at the same coffee shop you had met at two years prior later that day. “Sorry I’m late” you muttered to Cale as you found him. He smiled and gave you a quick kiss.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I already put your order in,” he said as you sat across from him, taking a sip of the coffee he got you.

“You know me so well,” you hummed with a giggle, the caramel latte tasting sweet. Cale grinned at you.

“Technically, your coffee order was the first thing I learned about you, so I better get that right,” he chuckled. “That and you seemed like a huge nerd.” You faked offense, but laughed anyway.

“It was all those books that got you. I knew my tactic of sitting in a coffee shop would work for me one day,” you winked at him.

“It did. I’d never seen nothing like you,” he grinned, reaching into his pocket to take out a small velvet jewelry box.

Never seen, never seen nothin' like you Ain't never seen anything like you Mmm Never seen nothin' like you

Tagging: @yeahcalesy @avsfans95 @tysojost

#nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #cale makar imagine #cale makar x reader #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine

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spasmsofthought · 3 years

Text

flooding (t.h.)

Because sometimes working almost full-time hours as a part-time, minimum wage worker while trying to finish university through accelerated online courses and still trying to have some sort of life is exhausting, especially during a year-long pandemic. I needed some comfort today on my day off before going into a very, very long weekend of work and school. Hope you’re taking care of yourselves loves xx

Warnings: Some mental health struggles, descriptions of feeling overwhelmed, stressed, and panicked.

+++

The screen of your laptop is all that you have been staring at for the past hour, and the tiny words etched into the pages of your online textbook have been blurring together for you don’t know how long. Fingers rest on the lettered keys but don’t move because you can’t muster the energy to make them. Your eyes drift down to the digital clock that rests in the bottom corner of the screen once again for what feels like the third time in the last thirty seconds. 11:59 PM the clock reads. You’ve only been home from work an hour. You’re still sitting here in your work uniform, the one that needs to go in the washer tonight or early in the morning because you’re not going to have time to do laundry this weekend.

Tom’s on another continent, has been for the past week and a half, so there was no one to greet you tonight, so the promise of actual comfort after coming home from work wasn’t there. All that was waiting for you were papers and discussion board replies that are due in a few hours, a day at most. Your brain was already turning to mush just driving home tonight, having to deal with other human beings barking orders to you, filling orders, on your feet with two small 15 minute breaks and an unpaid 30 minute lunch all afternoon and evening. All you had wanted to do was take a shower and collapse in bed, but the two senior-level classes you have for this current 8-week session have been putting you through the ringer these past few weeks. There’s this knot of all these emotions expanding in your stomach, it’s been there all week, and you’ve had to push down the tears you’ve felt gathering in your eyes.

It takes a second, as you are pulled away from staring at the screen and from your consuming thoughts, to realize that your phone is buzzing away on the table next to your laptop. On the screen is a cheeky little selfie of Tom with the options to accept or decline the call. 12:07 AM the screen also tells you at the very top in little white numbers. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you can get away with letting it go until it shows up as a missed call, but you swipe to accept the call and bring your phone to your ear.

“Hi,” you say softly, trying to keep the emotion from bubbling over in your voice and from tears coming to your eyes. Your free hand taps against the counter, your body trying to find some way to release the energy that has been bubbling in you since before you even went to work today.

“I thought you’d already be asleep,” Tom says, his voice light but a little groggy. It must be sometime in the morning and he’s getting ready to head out.

“No,” you answer back, “I’m trying to get some coursework done.” A fingernail from a finger on your free hand comes to your mouth and you bite down on it for a second before pulling it away from your mouth. You always do this even though you’ve been trying to break the nervous habit. Your nails always look horrendous and sometimes they’re ripped to the point of no return when it gets bad enough.

“What time is it there?” You hear some rustling from the end of his line, though you have no idea why.

“A little after midnight...” You voice trails off because he knows you’re not one to stay up late unless you know you’ve got plenty of free time. But the reality of your situation is hitting you a little differently and you have to pull in a deep breath to keep some sense of control.

“You’re supposed to be in bed already,” His voice is soft, tender. There’s no judgement but that fact doesn’t stop the shame from sinking like a stone in you.

“I know,” Your voice comes out a little thick and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat, “but I’m trying to get some homework done because the schedule dropped only a few hours ago and they have me working all weekend. I only have tonight and tomorrow morning to finish the stuff that’s due in three days.” It’s like the words coming spilling out and there goes any hope you had of trying to catch a few minutes with him before going back to staring at your computer screen. There’s a few beats of silence, because Tom isn’t in university right now and this is a conversation you both have had before. His life is so different, and while his own schedule can totally cause some similar feelings, sometimes your lives feel like opposite ends of the same spectrum.

You still need to run to the post office and go to the grocery store and you feel this oncoming sense of panic, like your body is overloading because it is overwhelmed with all the information and deadlines it is trying to process. Even though your brain knows everything’s going to end up okay, everything else feels like it’s telling you the opposite.

“It’s going to be alright,” He tells you, trying to reassure you as best as he can from miles and miles away.

“I wish you were here,” You finally cry, letting some tears well up and fall. The tears don’t really help but at the same time, it feels nice to have a little bit of release. You’re at the end of your rope.

“Me too, love, but it’s going to be alright,” You have a hard time believing him, but he’s never lied to you before. “You’re going to be okay.” You sniff as the tears keep running, swiping your cheeks and nose as best you can.

“You’re going to be okay,” He says again as you try to take a deep breath in. You inhale and exhale again. “You have survived these feelings before and you’re going to survive them again.”

Your computer screen has gone dark because you’ve spent an unknown amount of time on the phone and several minutes with your eyes closed. You don’t reach for the mouse to wake it up just yet.

“Why don’t you,” He voice begins, almost like a caress, “take a shower and then call me back, yeah?”

Your free hand comes to your forehead as you nod before you remember he can’t see your face. “Okay,” you say audibly.

“You’re going to be alright. Call me back.”

“I love you.”

You hear him exhale a little as he replies, “I love you. You’re going to be okay.”

A very small part of you starts to believe him.

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x oc #tom holland x original character #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland preference

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

Text

“you did what?”

hello, hi!

surprise, i guess? haha. i’m struggling to sleep so i’m letting my imagination run a little wild on google docs and i gained a little inspiration from an episode i’ve just watched of criminal minds and this came out. a little fluff in the workplace. a huge contrast to the previously posted story, full of smut, which you will find linked here.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

“you did what?” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 1.5k

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; when the bau arrive home from a case, spencer has something exciting to tell yn.

As soon as YN had gotten word of the jet touching ground, the time around her seemed to slow down.

All she wanted was to see her boyfriend after a long day of doing nothing around the office. Having been injured in the field during their last case, with a gunshot wound to her right shoulder, YN had been given strict orders to stay away from any activity until her arm had almost completely healed. Hotch made sure she wasn’t placed actively on a case, using the help of Garcia to keep her grounded in Virginia whilst they flew across the borders, making it clear that she would still be on some use when she wasn’t with them in person. Something Spencer could agree one and was adamant that she followed orders because, even though they were vulnerable to any kind of violence and injury when working a case with a dangerous unknown subject and there was always a likelihood of getting seriously injured or caught in a predicament that caused onsight panic, it scared him to see her get hit in a crossfire. If he had it his way, he’d have requested that they both took their holiday leave so he could help her back to health at home - but he knew, deep down, it wasn’t necessary.

The ding of the elevator was enough to calm the butterflies in her belly.

Morgan was the first to leave the confined space and gave YN a side-hug, being careful not to jolt her arm with his sudden movement, before he rushed away and disappeared round the corner. Hotch gave her warming and welcoming smile and a subtle nod, which she returned in his favour, and she watched him walk into the unit whilst undoing the button of his sui jacket and carrying his briefcase in his free hand. Blake had given her uninjured shoulder a squeeze on the way passed with a knowing look in her eye, a twitch in her eyebrow directed behind her and had YN looking at the elevator. JJ and Spencer were the last to leave the elevator, deep in a conversation with Rossi, that YN could only work out was his time in the marines from the way he was talking to passionately.

“Hey, you. You’ll never guess what your boy wonder did today,” JJ grinned, squeezing YN into a gentle hug before releasing her, allowing Rossi to come along and show his appreciation of his welcome by squeezing her elbows. Squeezing one a little softer than the other to not add injury to an existing one, “genius here delivered a baby.”

And with that, the two of them had left Spencer and her alone in the hallway.

“You did what?”

YN stood stunned in her place, barely able to move any part of her body nor close her mouth that had gawped open in surprise, watching and feeling him step closer to her. His tattered trainers squeaking on the tiled floor beneath him with each step he took in her direction, his eyes never leaving the sling that her arm had been tucked into for the last few days, guilt sinking to the bottom of his gut because he probably could have prevented her from being in the pain she was in by simply following her when she disappeared to check a room and spooked the unsub who had been hiding. His body stopped before her, almost awkwardly and like they hadn’t been dating for almost 6 years, almost like they were new to a workplace romance and didn’t want anyone to see them so soft towards each other.

“Yeah, I- uh,” he blushed softly and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, something YN had found out to be one of the tics that showed up when he felt a little under pressure and anxious over a situation, “I delivered a baby.”

“You- you helped a woman give birth? In the field? A baby?”

YN had a million questions running through her mind; how the hell did he end up in a situation where he had to help a victim give birth to a baby? How was it safe enough for a woman to be giving birth if she was surrounded by police cars and police units and weapons all around with a dangerous unsub so close to the scene? Why did he decide he was the best one in the team to become a temporary midwife for the moment? When did he learn so much about labour and delivery?

She wished she had been there to watch as Spencer took control of the situation whilst keeping everyone in and around the scene calm and collected, a slight sense of panic in every word he spoke and every action he played, his mind tunnel-visioned on making sure the baby came out healthy and crying for the touch of its warm and nurturing mother. His calming tone being of good use, letting his hand go through the abuse of a woman taking her pain out on squeezing through her contractions, not letting anything get too out of control so that the baby was born into a room that had only, minutes before, been a scene that no baby should have been brought into.

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I helped a woman give birth to a baby out in the field,” he repeated, his arm falling down to his side, the leather strap of his go-bag slipping down to his elbow, something he corrected and hoisting it back up onto his shoulder, slipping it over his neck to keep it in a more secure place around his body, “something my eidetic memory will had trouble forgetting.”

YN snorted and rolled her eyes, stepping forward and wrapping her free arm around his waist, welcoming him home with a warm hug and a little intimacy that had gone missing over the last few days; he’d been on a case and YN had been the one left behind to work alongside Garcia on the computers, for obvious reasons. A time she took advantage of and used to complete files with deadlines she had missed because they piled up on the corner of her desk and almost towered her standing figure, that she couldn’t do as quickly as she could with two working arms.

“I read a lot of books about labour and delivery when JJ was pregnant with Henry. You know, just in case she went into labour somewhere where we couldn’t get her to a hospital in time. We needed someone on the team who knew what they were doing so she was doing it correctly,” he explained, arms tight around her waist and a kiss pressed to her forehead after he had concluded his sentence, inhaling the scent of her hair that hadn’t been used with the shampoo that held her usual scent - it was his shampoo and he’d know that scent anywhere and every now and then, keeping it hidden from Spencer, she liked to used his soap and his shampoo to smell like him because she missed his presence around her. “I’d like to think I’d get a job as a midwife almost instantly now. I have experience.”

“At least we’ll be prepared if we ever had to go through it personally,” she hummed, looking up at him and resting her chin upon his chest, his neck craning back so he could press a kiss to her lips and shake his head with a smile. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion though so she was unsure of how he truly felt on the subject of having children. Her fingers dug underneath the hem of his buttoned shirt, fingertips touching the naked skin of his hip, forefinger drawing circles into the soft flesh beneath, “what? We might have a baby and the story of daddy delivering them would definitely be one to tell at Christmas time when they’re all-.”

“We will,” he interrupted, squeezing her hips before releasing her body from his hold, “we will have a baby. I’m not even going to doubt that.”

Not yet, of course.

They had perfect jobs that they loved to be actively involved in, they had a life they were enjoying as just the two of them, they had an single-bed apartment that didn’t feel like a good fit for raising a baby, and they didn’t feel they had enough life experience to even think about trying for a baby. They may have been dating for six years but, in the last two, they’d only just learnt to live with one another, figuratively and literally.

“A baby?” Garcia gasped loudly from behind the two of them, a shocked yet excited expression written all across her face, coffee dribbling down the side of her coffee mug and droplets landing on the floor beside her feet, dressed in the brightest pair of pink high heels she could find in her wardrobe. “Are you guys-”

“No,” YN blurted out, and turned around at her sudden presence, shaking her head quickly with a giggle, “no, we’re not pregnant. Garcia, we’re not.”

“Damn it,” she frowned, her body sinking closer to the floor in dismay, “I was hoping for a new godchild to spoil.”

“One day,” Spencer smiled, dipping his head down and hiding the smile within the fuzz of YN’s air that had become a little messy over the stress of the day, “one day, Garcia. One day.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader imagines #spencer reid x reader insert imagines #spencer reid x yn imagines #spencer reid fics #spencer reid x reader fics #spencer reid x reader insert fics #spencer reid x yn fics #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert imagines #matthew gray gubler x yn imagines #matthew gray gubler fics #matthew gray gubler x reader fics #matthew gray gubler x reader insert fics #matthew gray gubler x yn fics

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snickiebear · 3 years

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yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)

ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you.

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them.

As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

OMGG okok

@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD.

@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn

@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL.

fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks

i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A.

When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH.

@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about.

@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA

Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka

Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay.

I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time.

Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH

Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?

Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.

Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps.

As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing.

It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.

Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA

40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?

AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO

so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.

Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.”

The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic.

I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))

ask me shit plz

#silly things from silly friends

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hekate1308 · 2 years

Text

I Shall Wake In The Morning To Sing With The Lark, A Drowley Christmas Calendar, Chapter 7

Masterpost

AO3

The thing about having a deadline, Dean decided somewhere around midday, was that it was kind of fun, having a certain goal to work forward to, if there was nothing to truly stress out about, and in this case, there wasn’t. What was going to happen was that he was going to hang out with a sarcastic, hot guy for a bit (was he supposed to think a demon was hot? Probably not, but then, he had already bet his soul in a way, so he’d probably end up in hell regardless of what happened), who wouldn’t be able Tio guess what he truly wanted, and then Crowley would vamoose out of his life again, so really, what did he have to lose? Nothing, and that was that.

He whistled as he worked on the Lamborghini even though normally, he would have felt utterly put out. Instead, he was only vaguely annoyed.

“Hey Dean!” Garth, his happiest co-worker, beamed at him. “Why so cheerful?”

He was staring to wonder if he had truly acted so miserable before. Certainly not – there was no reason for him to be miserable. Yeah, Sam was far away and that sucked, and he didn’t really know where his life was going, but he had a roof under his head, a job, and his car. He was doing fine. “Just feeling good, is all”. He grinned. “And, how are the twins?”

Garth and his wife had lately welcomed two very noisy but at the same time constantly grinning babies (Dean thought it was hereditary) and so far, they were always worth a story.

“Oh, you know, the usual… won’t let us sleep a wink at night, but other than that, they’re perfect” he beamed characteristically.

Sometimes, Dean had felt inclined to feel jealous of Garth – back when he was a kid, he had always imagined having kids himself and giving them the life he cold only ever have dreamed of; but – but – well, he had eventually started to realize that maybe he was not the kind of person who wanted to settle a child with all the baggage he was carrying. He wasn’t Dad, after all. Still, it was kind of fun to go see Garth and Bess and the twins, albeit it was always, always noisy. Come to think of it, he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he should drop by, just to make sure they had a little bit of room to breathe.

A pause settled between them, which was unusual in itself because Garth liked to talk (boy, did he liked to talk). So Dean decided it was probably going to be one of the days where Garth wanted to ask his advice or talk about something really important, like when he had decided he wanted to propose to Bess.

But instead, his friend suddenly said, “It’s nice to see you smiling.”

“I smile all the time.”

“I meant a real smile” Garth then said and now Dean was officially lost. He knew he wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as he had been in his early twenties when he had been focused on getting Sam into college with as little debt as possible, but still…

“Don’t worry about me not having a good time, Garth. Trust me.”

“Not what I meant.”

That may be, but he had no freaking idea what Garth truly meant, so he should best leave it at that.

Thankfully, Garth decided that they should not be talking anymore as well, so Dean could focus on the task at hand, not wondering at all what Crowley was getting up to. Demon stuff, he supposed. He couldn’t imagine that their bet was the only thing he got cooking at the moment, so he was probably closing three deals at once, sipping Craig in some fancy bar… at least demon deals were the only reason Dean could imagine that some douche bags had all the luck. Hm. Maybe after he had won the bet, he should ask Crowley to make the next rich guy’s life as miserable as possible. That would be fun.

The Lamborghini had nothing wrong with it per se, but Ketch had once more decided it wasn’t working up to standards (whatever that meant) so Dean got to play around with an almost perfect car (only Baby was perfect) for two hours, which was just fine by him.

Still, he was somewhat surprised when he suddenly got a text from an unknown number.

Hello. Fancy lunch? XOXO C.

There was only one person it could be, and he shook his head even as he sent an affirmative reply. Why not have lunch with a demon. Life was shorts enough as it was.

He didn’t even bother to worry about where Crowley had gotten his number. Guy must have his sources, being a big bad crossroads demon and all.

#my writings #spn #dean winchester #crowley #drowley #christmas calendar

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sasha-r-blog · 3 years

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A Promising Encounter

Timing: A few months back

Parties: @professorbcampbell and @sasha-r-blog

Location: University campus cafe

Summary: Sasha’s advisor sets up a meeting between her and Professor Campbell to discuss her academic career. Ben sees promise in her.

Content: Allusions to manipulation

“I think it would be good for you to meet with one of the faculty mentors. It doesn’t have to be a regular occurrence, but if you try it you might find something of value. Maybe ideas for ways to get involved on campus, or suggestions of ways to make your major feel more worthwhile to you. Or maybe a way to take a more interdisciplinary approach to your academic career. A lot of students find branching out helps them to get a fuller experience at the university. I’ll put in an appointment for you with one of them. I wouldn’t want you to go into your second semester still not feeling settled when there are options that may help.”

Sasha gripped the shoulder strap of her school bag so tight her knuckles were turning white. Why had she agreed to this? She could have just said no to her advisor and wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this today. But now she was standing near the entrance of the on campus cafe, halfway to a panic attack. She could have just said no, but instead she just sat there across from her advisor as she droned on at her, nodding like an idiot at being signed up for this when she really wanted nothing to do with it. It wasn’t like her advisor’s suggestion was dumb, it was just that now Sasha had to walk into public space on campus and meet with a stranger that she couldn’t even remember the name of. Professor Candle or Combbull or something.

She took a shaky breath. She probably looked like a weirdo for lingering at the entrance, foot tapping and sweating under her sweater. It was hard to tell if she was imagining the people leaving giving her weird glances and giggling, but she quickly rushed in after they passed. It wasn’t even that crowded, no rush of students grabbing coffee and bagels between classes at the moment. But there was still a decent amount of seats filled, mostly people chatting with each other or working alone on their laptops. Oh great, right, she didn’t even know what this professor looked like. Sasha awkwardly walked over to the side, avoiding the questioning glance of the barista who was probably expecting her to order something. This was the worst. Either this guy was waiting for her here and she was just looking around like an idiot, or he hadn’t even arrived yet and Sasha was still looking around like an idiot. Maybe she’d be lucky today and the professor messed up his schedule and couldn’t even make it. She’d give it 10 minutes. That was fair right? Then after that she was legally allowed to bail.

Looking at his watch, Ben shut off his computer and pulled on his wool overcoat. The beginnings of snow had started to drift down on the campus, which was a bit of a nuisance. Ice and freezing temperatures complicated his affairs. But, Yule was nearly upon them and he was looking forward to gathering with the rest of his family to celebrate the occasion with hot chocolate and human sacrifices. Maybe his sister in law would break out the mulled wine-- that would be a treat. Ben took his time as he walked towards the campus coffee shop. He was in no hurry to meet this new student. He’d looked up her records when one of the advisors had asked if he had any availability in his schedule to meet with a “brilliant but flounder” student. Of course, how could he say no? Smiling at one of his former TA’s as he walked across the campus, Ben sighed. Computer science majors, logical to a fault typically. He doubted he would have much luck with this one, but who knew.

Walking into the coffee shop, he glanced around and saw a fidgeting young girl in the corner. Sasha. That must be her. With a warm smile on his face, Ben offered a polite wave. “Sasha Rodriguez, correct?” He asked, “Apologies for the delay, a lecture ran long. I’m Professor Campbell, but please, call me Ben.”

Unfortunately, within three minutes of Sasha’s countdown to leave, a man walked into the coffee shop and greeted her. Great. Well, yeah, actually great in the sense that she didn’t have to awkwardly stand here anymore unsure who she was supposed to meet. Sarcastic “great” at the fact that she wasn’t getting out of this social interaction any time soon.

“Hi, yes, that’s me,” Sasha said, giving a small wave toward the professor before realizing that was probably unnecessary and dumb. “My advisor said we were supposed to meet for a mentoring...thing. I guess we should sit down somewhere?”

Luckily the area Sasha had tucked herself into while waiting had a free table only a few feet away. Sasha took her backpack off and sat down, half wanting to keep it on her lap, it’s weight somehow comforting. But she decided against it. This would just be talking, which didn’t exactly make her feel any better, but reminding herself that talking to someone new wouldn’t kill her was important. Most shy kids she knew growing up were at least teacher’s pets to balance out the lack of friends, but she had never even managed that. Peers, teachers, strangers, all fair game for her nerves. But she could handle talking to him for a bit. At least her anxiety was easing a little now that she didn’t have to wonder about the unknown of when and who she was meeting. With a nod, Ben gestured for her to grab a table. “That sounds like a wise idea. You hold tight, I’ll get us some coffee.” He said and left to go to the barista. With his trademark smile, Ben ordered an americano and a drip coffee and collected the drinks at the end of the bar. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I thought it’d be safest to go with a black coffee.” He said, setting the mug in front of the girl. “So. Sasha. It’s good to meet you-- please, don’t think of this as any kind of interview or lecture or anything like that. I’m here to act as a sort of liaison between you and the faculty here. And, to offer you a warm White Crest welcome. Go Moose!” Ben said with a very “ra-ra” gesture of his hand. It was an act, crafted over the years to inspire confidence and ease the nerves of some of the more anxiety ridden students. “How are you finding the university so far?”

Sasha nodded, watching as Professor Campbell, or Ben she guessed, ordered the drinks. Right, probably best to actually drink coffee at the coffee shop. It was a campus location, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t get annoyed looks if they spent time here without ordering something.

As Ben handed her the drink Sasha mumbled out a quick thanks, taking a sip before remembering to respond with more. “Um, yeah, black coffee’s fine. That’s what I usually have.” Adding milk would have just made her stomach mad at her, and adding sugar didn’t really seem to do anything to the taste. She wasn’t really sure why people added it in the first place. Taking another sip, she realized how sorely she needed the coffee. Maybe that’s part of why she was so on edge. Sasha hadn’t been a big coffee drinker before coming to college, but it was quickly becoming a staple with all her late night patrols as The Claw. She read once that coffee could actually make people more anxious or something, but right now it was giving her stressed and tired brain a much needed jolt.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling slightly at the little “ra ra” hand gesture. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but she was glad that Ben didn’t seem like some of the other professors she had met this semester; harsh gazes and even harsher deadline, rambling so fast Sasha couldn’t keep up, or dully reading off their lesson plans and then slipping away after the class as if they had never even existed.

“It's going alright so far, I think. I’m not doing the best in some of my classes but, um, I don’t know, I guess otherwise things are fine.” That was the thing, what did Sasha do besides classes? She had barely gotten to know anyone on campus, peer or otherwise. She had managed to avoid almost every campus event out of tiredness or busyness or anxiety. It wasn’t like she was in any clubs either. Sasha tapped her fingers across the side mug. She really must look like a loser for that, but then again, that wasn’t exactly a surprising turn of events. She had The Claw, that’s what she did, so why did she need to try to do stuff on campus besides not flunk out?

“I don’t really do much here.”

“Excellent. And, you’re quite welcome.” He said with an encouraging nod. Regarding the girl over the rim of his coffee mug, Ben took careful stock of her body language, her general demeanor. She seemed nervous, but that was normal amongst the new undergraduate students, even the ones that claimed to be adjusting well. Ben took a sip from his cup as she quietly explained her situation. Struggling in class, an advisor mandated meeting with one of the mentor teachers to ease her into the life of collegiate life? How interesting. Interesting indeed. “I think there’s always a certain amount of an adjustment period to be expected with grades,” Ben said, because that’s what the understanding professor would say. That’s what someone who didn’t expect greatness from his students would say. “So I wouldn’t let that bother you very much, as long as you’re enjoying the classes you’re in. College is a transitionary period, there are always going to be bumps in the road whenever these things happen.”

She tapped her fingers on the mug-- an irritating habit that Ben ignored. Hopefully someone would be able to drill that out of her, it wasn’t very polite. “What about extracurriculars? Are you living on campus? Have you gotten to know some of your classmates? There are all sorts of clubs offered by the student body, I know more than a few students who have found their niche in one club or another.”

“Yeah, classes are good. I like them.” It wasn’t a complete lie, Sasha didn’t hate her classes. But whatever she thought she was good at when it came to math and coding and tech didn’t apply much here. And when it did it was the basic stuff in classes that made her eyes glaze over and excuse herself to the “bathroom” just to walk up and down the hallway to wake herself up.

She nodded along to what Ben said about it being a transitionary period, but as he continued on with more questions she froze up a bit. “Um...not really. I mean I don’t really do much on campus. I’ve seen flyers around and I know they have activity fairs and stuff like that, but I’ve never gone.” Sasha nervously picked at a hangnail. Boy, the flap of skin sure was way more interesting than looking back at this professor who was probably exasperated at her lack of involvement. “I live on campus, so I know I don’t really have an excuse, but like I said, I don’t really do anything here. I just sort of do my own thing. Alone.”

“What classes are your favorite?” Ben asked conversationally, leaning back in his chair, one leg folding over the other as he watched the girl with an appraising eye. “I’m sure you must enjoy our coding classes-- I’ll admit, I’m not very familiar with the faculty in that department, but I’ve heard good things from some of the other students I mentor. They’re on the engineering track, though, I’m not sure if you’d have much overlap with them.” He said.

Noticing the sudden “deer in the headlights” expression on her face, Ben noted to ease up on the questions. Some students thrived off them, Sasha clearly wasn’t one of those. Fair enough, he could work with that. “That’s perfectly alright-- college can be incredibly overwhelming when you first arrive.” He said, tone gentle. He watched her pick at her nails with increasing distaste. Disgusting. But, he didn’t let the annoyance show on his face. Instead, he cast a sympathetic smile in her direction. “And there’s nothing wrong with being alone. That said, college is a time for meeting people, making friends. I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you this, so I’m apologizing in advance for sounding like a cliche. But, some of the best friends I’ve had I met in college. You’ll never know who you’ll meet unless you put yourself out there.” He said with an encouraging nod.

Sasha hadn’t expected the professor to seem so casual about her lack of involvement, though she supposed that wasn’t that surprising. In her anxiety she thought maybe this meeting was some last ditch faculty intervention thing where Ben would shake his head and tsk tsk at her and explain how Sasha was going to ruin her college experience by being so much of a loner.

Her shoulders eased slightly, more tension leaving as she reminded herself that this was just a meeting with some random professor and even if he gave her a list of clubs it wasn’t like he could force her to go. She had been in college long enough now that she knew, for better or for worse, if she didn’t want to do something like go to class or take a professor’s advice she didn’t have to. But it was nice that Ben didn’t seem like the type so far to be a jerk about it.

“I mean, I like this one class, Scientific Simulation and Modeling. It is for one of my Gen Eds but it fits into my whole major and the professor makes it pretty fun. We were mostly doing simulations for regional ecology and wildlife population stuff, and that was kinda cool. I’ve really only taken math and computer classes this semester. I know I need to do all the other Gen Eds but besides English 101 I haven’t really thought about what to do for that. I haven’t looked into engineering classes, but I’m sure some of them might overlap with what I need.”

Still, even if Ben was being nice, Sasha couldn’t help but wonder how much he really cared about her major or anything else she was saying . He apparently wasn’t part of the department most of her classes were in, and Sasha assumed most professors didn’t spend time outside of their own academic circle. But Ben seemed to watch intently in a way that made Sasha feel like maybe he was actually interested in listening, even if she decided to ramble on about the model the class worked on for trout populations in the local rivers or how she was kinda proud she got an A on her last Trig test when she had been hovering around a C all semester. She wasn’t going to though, even she didn’t care that much about her classes to talk about specifics. And she knew painfully well if she did talk too long about her interest most people just thought she was weird.

“I’ve never really been away from home or alone so I guess it is pretty weird to get used to. Alone without my parents I mean. But I mostly hung out by myself back home too so that isn’t really much of a change. I uh, I mean, I hear that a lot, the whole thing about making close friends in college. I’m sure it is true for most people but...”

God, she must sound like such a sad sack. After she took another sip of coffee she tried her best to change the subject.

“But I haven’t really had luck. Anyway, uh, what department do you teach in then?”

Ben barely paid attention as she rattled on and on about whatever silly little class had captured her interest. It seemed like some kind of scientific class, one he was entirely unfamiliar with. Which hardly made her the ideal candidate for his little club-- hardly any of his carefully cultivated minds were on the science track. But, she could be useful yet. Hrv’Shtooooor didn’t care how long it took him to find fresh blood, only that he did. Smiling and nodding at the appropriate intervals, Ben took a sip from his coffee cup. “Have you talked to the professor at all about other courses they teach? I know more than a few of my own students helped settle on their degree tracks because of influential teachers. Not--” He added with a deliberately rueful smile, “only myself, of course. But, that could be a good starting point as far as finding common interests with others or exploring new paths.”

“People take things at their own pace.” Ben said with an assured nod. So she was a loner. Interesting, very interesting. That boded well. The desperate and the lonely made for easy targets, though the science minded had always been a harder nut for him to crack. He relished a challenge, though. At her question, he cast her a polite smile as she settled back in his chair, one leg folded over the other. “I’m a Professor of the Classics, so I’m with the School of Arts and Sciences. Not classic literature, mind you,” He said lightly, though the misconception continually irked him. As if he cared about Bronte, Austen, Fitzgerald, or any of the rest of their ilk. “I teach Greek and Roman antiquity. Politics, philosophy, history, literature, and so on. It��s a dull field, but I find it quite enjoyable.”

“I probably should, I barely know what my plan for next semester is. But I guess if a professor teaches one good class hopefully their other ones are good too.” Again, she should probably put more thought into this, considering how much she was paying for school. But maybe Ben was right. Going at her own pace, figuring it out bit by bit, couldn’t be that much of a disaster, right? She hadn’t flunked out her first semester, she couldn’t be that bad.

“So would the classics include myths and things like that?” Politics and philosophy sounded like an easy way for Sasha to fall asleep instantly in class. But myths were kinda cool. She never really looked a whole lot into it, but a lot of those greek heroes felt like old timey superheroes. She sure as hell wasn’t going to mention that to the professor though. There had to be a limit to how kind he could be, and she doubted comparing years of studies to comic books was going to make him happy.

“I don’t really know if I really get a lot of that stuff, but it sounds cool. It covers a lot of stuff it sounds like.” She was surprised he was calling his own field dull, it made her reflexively want to disagree, even if half of what he listed did sound boring to her. Maybe it was just the idea that someone could spend years doing something and people would still think it wasn’t worth much. It made her vaguely sad. She knew first hand that it sucked to care about something a lot when plenty of others didn’t.

“That’s the spirit.” Ben said with an approving smile and gestured grandly with his cup. “A positive mindset is a valuable thing. College is all about experiences. And everyone has their own way of going about things. But, it never hurts to venture out a bit, dip your toes in the water, that sort of thing. This school is a small one, all things considered, but I’m sure you’ll find professors-- and peers-- who suit you best.” He said with a kind expression on his face. And he would do his best to steer her towards his own little niche. If she got away, so be it. But, he was a patient man and so was his Lord.

Myths. Of course, that was all anyone could ever talk about. But, he supposed it was easy to be enamored with the stories of ancient times when you didn’t know that some of the so-called myths were alive and well. Nodding, Ben bridged his fingers together, “Yes, we cover the various mythos surrounding both Greek and Roman society, though I typically focus on how they were indicative of the times in which they were written and the religious importance they held.” Leaning forward, he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “But, between you and me? My segment on Hercules is one of my favorite sections. Next to Gilgamesh, he’s one of the greatest heroes in history.” Ben said with a nod.

“Ah, you’re very kind. But, I’ve spent too many hours at conferences led by geriatric old fogeys to delude myself into thinking that what I teach is “cool”.” Ben said, making air quotes with a modest shrug. “That said, it’s my field of choice and I’m always very pleased to see the new generation of historians who are interested in preserving antiquity the way I do.” He said before glancing casually at his watch, a throw away gesture to see how observant she was. Was she the type to notice the subtlety of others actions? Or would she gloss over it?

It would be nice if what Ben said was true, if Sasha could connect with people at the college and feel a bit more at home. Maybe she was just being pessimistic. It wasn’t like she never took risks. Climbing onto icy rooftops and chasing down bad guys wasn’t what most people would call playing it safe. So why was it so hard to just talk to people in comparison?

“I think heroes and stuff like that reflect a lot of things.” Sasha winced slightly at her own words. She wished she could say it in a way that sounded smarter, but she agreed with him. The people others looked up to and wrote about, even if they weren’t real...well, they usually said something about the person who was writing about them, about what they wished for, who they wanted to be. “Are you teaching any classes about that stuff soon? I...honestly I’ve not really thought about my schedule much but maybe I could take one.” At the very least it might fill a history gen-ed or something. There wasn’t harm in trying.

Sasha smiled at Ben talking about not being cool. Sasha wasn’t sure any professor could be “cool” but at least he was complaining about the old-timey professors rather than being one himself. As he spoke Sasha caught him glancing at his watch. Crap, how long had they been sitting here talking? Sasha glanced over at the clock on the nearby wall, worried that looking at her phone would seem rude. She was surprised by how much time had passed. If it felt like just a few minutes ago she was halfway to bailing out of this meeting in the first place out of nerves. “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to talk so long.”

Ben regarded the girl with an appraising nod. Heroes, hm? Perhaps she was just one of the innumerable students who were obsessed with the Marvel movies that had trickled out of Hollywood over the past decade. But, it was her body language that interested her more. She seemed hesitant, self-critical, anxious. As though her own words couldn’t stand on their own. Interesting. Very, very interesting. With another winning smile, Ben let out a chuckle, “As luck would have it, I am.” It was one of his most popular courses with the undergraduates, how could he not offer it? The course had pulled in more than a few of his most recent… disciples. “I have a course on Greek and Roman literature that focuses quite extensively on the heroes-- and villains-- of myth.” He said earnestly. “It’s open to most degree tracts, but don’t quote me on that. I’m not as familiar with course requirements as I should be.”

Ah, she noticed. Observant, anxious, eager to please, and apologetic. Very good, very good indeed. With a warm smile, Ben stood up and held out a hand for a firm handshake. “No, no, believe me, the pleasure was all mine. I enjoy being able to talk to promising young students like yourself. And do mean that,” He said as he pulled his jacket back on, preparing to walk back out into the wintery street. “You have a lot of potential, Sasha. Don’t let minor setbacks hold you back from that.” With that, Ben strode out of the coffee shop a satisfied expression on his face as he left. Sasha Rodriguez. What a promising young woman indeed.

#wickedswriting #para #ben

11 notes · View notes

waveypedia · 4 years

Text

Key to a Memory

(warning for swearing)

{people need a melody to open their eyes

like a key to a memory frozen in time

holding on to everything, you’re stuck in the past

boy dontcha know that the world moves fast

it’s been a little while since we’ve been together

it’s been a long time since we were young and wild, remember

when we were friends, remember}

May 14, 2019 I 6:26 pm

UNKNOWN NUMBER: GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: HEY GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s me Della!! Your bud!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m back from space!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t believe you have the same number you nerd! lol I remember when Uncle Scrooge finally forced you to get a phone and you got a super cheap one and then upgraded it with your own tech

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t wait to see how much more upgraded and fancy your phone is now!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: sorry for not texting you sooner I got back a couple days ago but things have just been really hectic since then ya know??

UNKNOWN NUMBER: anyway I know you’re probably busy changing the world and inventing amazing things for Uncle Scrooge

UNKNOWN NUMBER: he told me you got an intern!! Congrats!! I can’t wait to meet them

UNKNOWN NUMBER: just call me when you get a chance ok? I’d really like to catch up

“GYRO!!” Della screamed, kicking open the door to the lab. Gyro scowled at his desk and scrawled a quick note to outfit the elevator with self-opening doors. The scientist sighed and stood up reluctantly, stepping around his desk to be in full view. “What is it now, Della?”

Della sprinted into the lab, her grin threatening to split her face in two. She exuberantly waved a bundle of papers in Gyro’s face. “Donnie and I got tickets to the new Galaxy Wars movie, and you’re coming!! Thursday at 6!! Be there or be square!!”

Gyro snorted and gently waved her off, pushing the tickets out of his face. “Dels, I’m busy here. Besides, any self-respecting scientist knows those movies are garbage.”

Della fake-pouted and slung her arm around Gyro’s shoulders, despite the height difference. She had to lean and go up on her tiptoes to manage, making Gyro burst out in a fit of laughter. She shrugged, tugging Gyro down to her height. “Whatever. The premiere was a couple weeks ago, so you probably won’t get into a fistfight with an overzealous fan this time-”

“-Their fault-” Gyro muttered under his breath as Della prattled on.

“-Aaaaaand Cousin Gladdy’ll be there! With his luck we probably won’t get kicked out by the ushers,” Della finished proudly.

Gyro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Ugh, Gladstone? That man is too self-absorbed. Takes one to know one. And does that mean Fethry will be there as well?”

“Yep!” Della beamed. “He loves science, Gy, and he loves you! He’ll grow on you one day.”

“Highly unlikely.” Gyro shoved her arm off and stretched, standing up to his full height. “I grudgingly respect Fethry’s passion and his interest in scientific fields. He’s just so…” Gyro huffed. “Annoying.”

Della poked him in the beak. “Whatever. If you think Fethry’s annoying, my buddy Loopy from flight school will be there and she’ll blow your mind. But in a good way! Loopy’s amazing!”

Gyro groaned and slapped a hand on his face, slowly dragging it down. “Loopy and I are your only friends, aren’t we?”

Della puffed her chest out in mock effrontery. “I have lots of friends! I’m the best at making friends! They’re just all over the globe, you know, cause of all the amazing and daring adventuring I do!”

Gyro snorted and knocked his friend with his shoulder. “Whatever. When one of these international ‘friends’ comes around to Duckburg and hangs out with you beyond the adventure, let me know.”

Della smirked. “So you’ll be there?”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” Gyro affirmed, rolling his eyes.Della beamed mischievously. “Wonderful! See you there! Also it’s a sleepover and I’m adding you to a group chat specifically for this event now byeeeeee!!!”

“WHAT?!” Gyro squawked, racing after Della, but the elevator dinged and carried her far away. “Della! No! Come back! DELLA!!! I WILL NOT SUBJECT MYSELF TO THE TORTURES OF YOUR CHILDISH SLEEPOVER!!!” He chanced a look at his phone. It was already blowing up with texts from Della and Fethry.

Gyro groaned and slammed his head down on his desk, grateful for the solitude of his lab. He pulled up the calendar Scrooge filled with his deadlines from the board and added the movie night so he wouldn’t forget. A small, pleased smile played at his beak.

He picked up his phone, muted the group chat, and returned to his work.

read 9:28 pm

May 15 I 4:03 pm

Della Duck: hey dumbass

Della Duck: they have read receipts now stupid

Della Duck: I know you saw my messages

Della Duck: whatever I know you’re hella busy just call me when you get the chance

Della Duck: hahah did you see that? hella! I used new slang!

Della Duck: Louie taught it to me :D

Della Duck: I can’t believe his name is Louie and not Rebel! I’m kinda mad at Donald but also it suits him more than Rebel

Della Duck: Dewey though… he’s DEFINITELY a Turbo

Della Duck: Huey could go either way but he’s okay with Huey so I guess I am too

Della Duck: It’s a lot to take in

Della Duck: although Webby would be overjoyed to be Jet or Rebel

Della Duck: I can’t believe I have an extra daughter!!! how cool is that?? four kids for the price of three!!

Della Duck: or maybe it’s more like six kids for the price of three since Webby had friends over today and they all seem close

Della Duck: Ooh you know who would be a good Rebel? Lena! apparently she just came back from the shadow realm??? I missed so much

Della Duck: i can’t believe you guys got to fight magica de spell without me AND she had a kid

Della Duck: she’s still kinda hot ngl

Della Duck: but louie showed me a picture of her after she lost her magic and ehhhh

Della Duck: but also there are lots of hot people around these days and I’m kinda freaked out

Della Duck: like I made a best friend of my roommate on the moon!! Her name’s Penumbra but I call her Penny and I’d let her stomp on me. Best part is she probably would

Della Duck: also Uncle Scrooge got a new pilot & driver and I hate him cause he’s sorta replacing me?? But also he’s hot in a himbo kinda way

Della Duck: I know you have insanely high standards but you gotta back me up here gyro Launchpad is kinda hot

Della Duck: damn i’ve missed our conversations about various hot people and our lack of love lives

Della Duck: I told you about Penny you gotta fill me in on the current hotties in the Duckburg science community

Della Duck: I also met your intern! He seems nice ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: i can hear your voice. “Della that is an excessive amount of emoticons”

Della Duck: well if you want me to stop you’ll just have to reply ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: at least you’re not telling me to use “emojis”Della Duck: apparently they all have hidden meanings and I don’t understand

Della Duck: Louie, Dewey, and Lena tried to teach Uncle Scrooge and I

Della Duck: I’m ashamed to say I think he fared better than I did

Della Duck: he’s old!! He’s supposed to be clueless!! I’m not old I was just on the moon for a decade!! That’s gotta count for something right?

4:46 pm

Della Duck: i see how it is

Della Duck: ignore me all you want but i’m right

The sun was nearly below the horizon, painting the evening sky and the waves below it in a plethora of muted colors, when Della broke the topic. “Yo. I think Magica de Spell is kinda hot.”

Gyro swerved to stare at her so fast he felt something in his neck crack. “Magica?! She’s ancient; are you crazy?!”

Della shrugged, kicking sand around absentmindedly with her bare toes. “Yeah, but she doesn’t look it. She’s hot in an unattainable kind of way.”

Gyro snorted, loud and sad. “I know how that feels.”

Della nudged him teasingly. “What’s going on in your love life? I shared, now you have to.”

Gyro rolled his eyes and nudged her back, harder. “You know nothing’s happening.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like I have much time outside of work.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you refuse to take care of yourself and you act like you’ll die if you leave the lab,” Della said good-naturedly. “You should come on an adventure with us!”

Gyro sighed contentedly and waved her away. “I’ll stick to the lab, thanks. My inventions’ corrupted morality circuits provide me quite enough stress and adventure, thank you very much.”

(He couldn’t very well tell her that her dear ol’ uncle had entrusted him with the project of a lifetime, his chance to thank her for her gift of friendship, his chance to prove himself to Mr. McDuck for once and for all, his chance to redeem himself from the smoking failure that was 2BO. He didn’t have to run himself ragged working on the Spear of Selene day and night, but this was important, far more important than anything Gyro had worked on at McDuck Industries before. For his career, and for his friendship. And he wanted to do it right.)

(Shame he failed in the end anyway.)

Della sighed assent, smiling, and leaned back on her elbows, working her fingers into the sand. She had given up for now, but Gyro knew she would broach the subject again soon, from a new angle, with a new tactic. Della Duck never gave up.

“Maybe one day,” Gyro said, surprising himself. After this whole Spear debacle is said and done.

Della beamed and knocked her shoulder into his affectionately. “I’ll hold you to that!”

Gyro smiled wryly. “I know you will.”

Gyro pushed up his glasses and studied Della’s texts, willing his eyes not to unfocus and his brain not to zone out. He read them once, twice, three times. Four.

He began typing.

Gyro Gearloose: I remember-

Gyro Gearloose: My love life is as nonexistent as it was when you left-

Gyro Gearloose: emojis are zealous anyway-

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry-

He deleted his words, frustrated, nerves and old, painful memories rubbed raw, and never sent a reply.

June 11 I 2:09 pm

Della Duck: so Fenton and I went out for coffee today

Della Duck: not on a date, just as a chance to get to know each other platonically

Della Duck: he’s so much like you

Della Duck: not on the surface. In fact you guys are pretty much opposites

Della Duck: but you both care so much, even though you show it differently

Della Duck: i know you care your prickly demeanor can’t fool me

Della Duck: you’re both incredibly passionate about sciences

Della Duck: you’re both super awkward

Della Duck: he has high praise for you, and he really admires you, but it sounds like you’re not that close and I think you totally should be!

Della Duck: I know you’re probably annoyed that I’m meddling in your (love) life again, but get used to it!! I’m the best wingman and friend and I’m here to stay!!

Della Duck: even if you don’t text me back

Della Duck: (but seriously, please text me back. I miss you.)

Della Duck: he said you might need some space and I guess that makes sense but i just don’t understand why

Della Duck: that’s the only reason I haven’t stormed down to the lab by now

Della Duck: Did i do something before I took off for the moon?

Della Duck: or are you like Donnie and you’re mad?Della Duck: at least I think Donnie’s mad

Della Duck: or he will be

Della Duck: he’s on a cruise, Gyro! A fucking cruise!!!

Della Duck: he left the day I got back and now he’s gone for a fucking month

Della Duck: he thinks I’m dead

Della Duck: I miss him so much

Della Duck: the cruise doesn’t allow cell phones so I can’t even contact him and tell him I’m alive

Della Duck: But Huey and I sent postcards!! I don’t know if they’ll reach him but I really hope they do

Della Duck: Huey and Webby have been checking the mailbox meticulously to see if he sends one back

Della Duck: sorry for ranting

Della Duck: I just miss him

Della Duck: I miss you too you know? Yeah i’m being stupid sappy again but it’s dumb that you’re right here, across the city, and we haven’t talked

Della Duck: call me gyro you fucking coward

2:43 pm

Della Duck: also Fenton is totally Gizmoduck right

Della Duck: I met Gizmoduck once when he came to formally greet me

Della Duck: and i’ve seen him around the city lots

Della Duck: but they’re so similar. They have the same mannerisms

Della Duck: I guess that means you built his armor then right?

Della Duck: or you helped

Della Duck: it’s great Gyro

Della Duck: look at you! An invention that didn’t turn evil!!

Della Duck: I’m proud of you bud

“Have you ever thought about hiring someone to help in the lab?” Della asked one day, apropos of nothing.

She had dragged Gyro into a fancy coffee shop - one he’d probably be banned from had he attempted to patronize it on his own, and one he would be in the post-Spear of Selene era - and forced him to take a break from the top secret project he’d been devoting all his time to. They bought overpriced, bougie coffees on Mr. McDuck’s dime and traded jabs without any real bite to them, as was customary for them. Della mocked Gyro’s unique taste for black licorice, again. Same old, same old.

And then, this.

Gyro paused, his ceramic mug halfway to his face. “I’m fine on my own. Any help would only get in my way. They would stumble over their own feet and I would have to take precious time off of my own projects to tediously help them flail and fall.”

Della set down her coffee and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re so cynical. Besides, you’re working yourself to death down there! It might help if you had someone else to lighten the load.”

Gyro paused. “I suppose I might be more productive if I didn’t have to do the menial tasks beneath me…”

“-And you could make a FRIEND!!!” Della cheered, standing up and leaning heavily on the table, her enthusiasm thundering in full-force. “Someone to chat with on late nights deep in projects, someone who understands your passion for science, someone you can count on when Donnie and I are off on an adventure!”

Gyro groaned, startled at first but then settling into resignation. “I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

Della giggled, batting her eyelashes jokingly. “I only have your best interests at heart.”

Gyro shrugged and swirled his quickly-cooling coffee around in his mug. “Besides, Dels, you know there’s a reason you’re one of my only friends, right? You and Dickie and Daisy, you’re the people I’m closest with and that’s because you wouldn’t put up with my prickly, stay-alone-all-the-time bullshit. You guys drag me out of whatever place I’m holed up in kicking and screaming. Most people are not like that. I’m lucky to have three of you,” he admitted in the kind of moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability and clarity that only comes when you’re with someone you really trust.

Della snorted and reached across the table to shove Gyro gently. “Shut your self-depricating hole, Gyro Gearloose. Trust me, I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t want to.”

Gyro smirked, a small smile chasing away the dark storm clouds that covered his face. “I know, Dels.”

“Good.” Della replied self-assuredly. “I love Dickie and Daisy, and I love that they love you, but they’re not local. You need more friends, Gyro.”

“Maybe,” Gyro hummed softly, the closest he would ever come to admitting it. “But it’s even harder to get along with coworkers, and the chances of my subordinate being someone who actually wants to be friends with me is abysmal.”

Della shrugged. “Sometimes you learn to like each other. Like me ‘n Donnie! We drive each other crazy, but we have each other’s backs when it matters, and we’re always there for each other.”

Gyro snorted. “This hypothetical person and I will be coworkers, Dels, not siblings. That’s different. Besides, you and Donald love each other too much to be healthy.”

“Yeah, but Donnie and Uncle Scrooge and I are a little like coworkers, aren’t we? Adventuring is our job, and it’s very stressful at times,” Della said.

Gyro shook his head. “Dels, honestly, you have to get a job at some point. Mr. McDuck won’t let you leech off of him for much longer now, and you have no experience. It’s really not the same.”

Della shrugged. “At some point. I know Uncle Scrooge is biting at the bit, especially after Donnie joined the Navy, but I don’t want the responsibilities and schedules of work to tie me down and take me away from adventuring, you know? It’s the same reason I didn’t go off to college.”

“I still think you should have,” Gyro replied, smiling wryly. “You’re bright and you’d flourish being able to study what you choose.”

“I learn a lot adventuring,” Della replied smugly, stubborn as always. “I can speak seven languages fluently, you know!”

“Even if most of them are dead, or belong to otherworldly beings from alternate dimensions,” Gyro pointed out.

Della sighed contentedly and shook her head. “Whatever. What’s done is done, and I’ll get a job someday. But just think about it, Gyro, all right?” She locked gazes with Gyro pleadingly.

Gyro sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give it some thought. But don’t get your hopes up, all right?”

Della smirked. “Whatever you say.”

Gyro put his head in his hands, roughly shoving aside his expensive coffee. (He was lucky it didn’t crash and burn, like most of his inventions.)

She’s not gonna win this one, Gyro aggressively promised himself. I can’t subject anyone else to my bullshit.

(The only reason he assented and allowed an intern on, in the future, was because Scrooge all but ordered it. He saw firsthand the way having positive people around improves lives and wanted that for Gyro too, especially with Della gone and Donald barely speaking to him. And if Mr. McDuck’s not-so-subtle hints and gentle persuasion-turned direct orders gave Gyro crystal-clear flashbacks to Della’s not-so-gentle prodding, and if he cried that night after his boss left, well, no one would be anyone the wiser.)

(He got quite lucky with Fenton and Manny, though. Some of that was the Board's thorough vetting process, but some of it was Scrooge himself intervening, because he wanted Gyro to make a friend as badly as Della had.)

August 15 I 7:26 pm

Della Duck: all right

Della Duck: I talked to Fenton again

Della Duck: i’m sorry for bothering you

Della Duck: it hurts to not talk to you but I’m gonna give you your space

Della Duck: I’m here whenever you’re ready

Della Duck: but please be ready soon Gyro i’m impatient

I know you are, Gyro nearly whispered as he read the texts. It felt like a finality, a surrender. But that couldn’t be right, because Della Duck never gave up.

How could he and his stupid, stupid inability to communicate his feelings and face his irrational fears be the one thing that forced Della Duck to admit defeat?

(read 7:58 pm)

The McDuck Annual Holiday Party was in full swing when Gyro arrived quietly. Launchpad had offered to drive him with Fenton, Manny, and Scrooge when they left a couple of hours ago, but Gyro had stayed to put the finishing touches on his current project, lest he lose his motivation.

That was the only reason. Not because Della would be there, and he might be forced to talk to her. No, sir.

Gyro clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white in the pockets of his vest. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fooling himself, and he certainly wasn’t fooling his friends family coworkers. Every single one of them, even Mr. McDuck (now that was painful) had tossed him a look that ranged from disappointed to knowing to pitying as they left for the party. It made Gyro want to scream in rage and slam his fists against the wall until they were bruised and bloody. But even he knew that was unacceptable party behavior. (Mrs. Beakley had humiliatingly taken him aside for a quick rundown on which of his usual behaviors were not applicable at company parties.)

Steeling himself for a night of faux cheer and passive-aggressive conversations, Gyro quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Skirting on the outskirts of the party, he scanned the room desperately for allies to swarm to and enemies to avoid.

He spotted Fenton and Launchpad first, amicably chatting up the legendary Greek hero Storkules and his sister, the equally inexplicable and ethereal goddess Selene. (A mystery to unpack at a later date.) Beside them was the gruff Moonlander that Della seemed to love.

Gyro set his jaw. He could handle chatty immortals and aggressive aliens. At least they probably wouldn’t have a personal vendetta against him because of a malfunctioning invention or a poorly placed comment. He waded determinedly through the sluggish crowd, surprisingly stopped a couple times by friendly faces. (Boyd’s hug of greeting lasted almost three minutes, and that didn’t even account for the rest of the overzealously affectionate kids.)

Looking back, he’s lucky his the kids stalled him, because when he finally emerged from Webby’s hug, his eyes locked on his own personal horror story.

Della.

This was the first time Gyro had actually seen her since she’d come back from the moon. Her hair was longer, if only slightly, and her metal leg gleamed in the light from the chandeliers above. (His fingers itched to get his hands on it and upgrade it, toy with it, make it into a personal project, but he adamantly refused himself.)

Alongside the physical differences, Gyro noticed some changes to her demeanor as well. She seemed more… weathered, and tired, despite the ever-present spark of energy she seemed to radiate and her unwavering grin. It was cliché, and Dr. Gyro Gearloose hated clichés with a passion, but she had an almost haunted look in her eyes, contrasting her radiating cheery energy.

She was different, and he was different. So much time had passed. It seemed almost impossible that the duck in front of him was the same duck that Gyro had shared coffee and secrets with almost daily ten years ago.

And yet he yearned to return to their easy friendship. Not for the first time, Gyro wished desperately to go back in time a decade and stop the Spear of Selene from ever happening.

Della slipped between Penumbra and Selene, glowing in the way only an extrovert in social situations can. By way of greeting, she hugged everyone, even Fenton (!!!). She settled at last, hanging off Penumbra’s shoulder with Selene’s arm around her and Launchpad’s jacket around her shoulders (how she had acquired that, Gyro had no idea).

Unfortunately for Gyro, from her new position, she had a perfect view of him, stuck with only a single sparse group between them. Her eyes strayed to lock onto him and he froze, panic creeping in a mile a minute.For a moment neither moved, staring at each other.

She hadn’t texted him since August, true to her word, albeit how much it hurt for both of them. She had come to the lab a couple times, to pick up Fenton and/or Manny for coffee or to pick up or drop off Huey, Webby, or Boyd. But Gyro had always hid like the coward he was, terrified to face his best friend. The last time they’d talked was the day before Della took off in the Spear of Selene, ten years and eight months ago.

At last, after four months, and nine months of radio silence from his end, here she was, almost close enough to touch.

Then Gyro’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and he turned tail and ran, panic clouding his vision and his judgement. He shoved one of the Sabrewing husbands roughly aside (Scrooge would undoubtedly make him apologize for that later) in his frantic quest to escape all the raw emotions, of hurt and guilt and self-hatred, that sprung up all of a sudden.

His eyes locked on a door and he wrenched it open before slamming it shut. He leaned hard against the door, hands clenched around the handle, breathing hard.

Only once the panic began creeping away and his breathing slowed did Gyro finally process his surroundings. He was in a small broom closet, filled to the brim with glittery party supplies Mrs. Beakley had probably denied Webby. (She would probably find a way to sneak them into the party sometime later.)

And perched precariously on top of a box labeled “glitter fireworks” was a woman Gyro had met once, in the Old West, two hundred years ago.

Goldie O’Gilt sized him up, panicked and ruffled, and apparently decided he was no threat. She slid gracefully down from the boxes. “What brings you here, to the closet of forgotten and abandoned party supplies? Girl troubles?”

Gyro wanted to laugh, because technically, she was right. “I’m gay,” he replied, giving her his best deadpan stare. It was lacking.

She assessed him, trying hard not to smile, before bursting out laughing. Gyro barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “People problems, whatever. Please. You can’t fool me, hun.”

Gyro crossed his arms testily. “Why are you here? Away with you.”

Goldie grinned smugly, pretending to examine her nails. “Oh, nothing special. Just some extra fun for Scroogey later. May or may not involve glitter fireworks. You?”

Gyro snorted, without any real humor behind it, and rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, I have better things to do than watch you drive Mr. McDuck up the wall. See ya.”

“This is about Scroogey’s rediscovered niece, isn’t it?” Goldie called after him, as if as an afterthought.

Gyro froze, his fingers curled around the doorknob. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t, really,” Goldie hummed, faking disinterest. “But spare an old woman some juicy gossip, would ya? ‘Sides, I’m a professional conwoman. I see all the angles, and yours is in plain sight.”

Gyro scowled and shifted so he could see Goldie’s face again. She was smirking, small but triumphant, which did nothing to quell Gyro’s steadily growing mix between annoyance and panic. “And I suppose this has nothing to do with ‘Aunt Goldie,’ would it?”

Goldie shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile on her beak shifted into a small pout of annoyance. “I’ll do you a favor and be honest with you. Cherish this moment; it won’t happen again.”

She sighed and leaned more heavily against the precariously stacked boxes. “I may have missed Della and her adventurous, rambunctious spirit over the years,” she confessed, suddenly looking a good deal more like the age-old tired adventurer she was. “It hurts to see that spirit quenched, especially when I just got her back. She hasn’t even frustratingly tagged along to one of Scroogey and I’s not-so-solo adventures! And… I care about her. She’s almost my niece.”

Gyro frowned, stunned at Goldie’s clarity. “...Oh.”

Goldie straightened up and whipped out a shiny knife from the folds of her dress. “But tell anyone, especially Della or Scrooge, and they’ll never know what happened to ya,” she warned, wagging the knife in the direction of Gyro’s face.

He pressed himself against the door while maintaining his scowl, despite the fact that it was too far away to hurt him. He knew what she could do if she put her mind to it. “I won’t.”

Goldie slipped the knife back into the folds of her dress, where it seemed to magically disappear from her hand. “Good. Now go get my niece’s spirit back,” she instructed strictly, shoving Gyro not-so-subtly towards the door.

He wrenched it open and slipped surreptitiously outside, glancing around the party. The crowds seemed to have thinned a little.

Gyro spotted Della easily. She, Donald, and Mrs. Beakley were gently corralling the gaggle of children upstairs - it was quite late, after all. Gyro started to step towards her, then hesitated.

He chickened out and sprinted unsteadily outside instead, taking in big mouthfuls of the refreshingly cold December air.

The chill set in after a few moments and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, and despairingly started the long trek away from the mansion.

His phone was buzzing with worried texts from his friends (and Della, no doubt), but Gyro set his jaw and walked on, stubbornly ignoring their annoyingly righteous concern. No use telling everyone he lost his nerve again, just like every time Della texted.

Gyro gritted his teeth and pulled the collar of his jacket over the lower half of his face as protection against the biting winds. The physical pain lessened, but the icy feeling in his gut did not. He balled his hands into fists, as if to physically punch his overwhelming guilt and regret away.

I’m a bad friend.

Early April was always a little tough for Gyro, with the anniversary of the destruction he inadvertently sowed in Tokyolk. It got better with time, but the early years were always a little rough.

(And after that he always had another grief-filled and regretful anniversary to observe in April, anyway.)

He was pushing through it, though, by throwing himself into his work. This year was especially easy. The Spear of Selene was almost done, and would probably be finished just before the eggs’ hatching.

The last time he talked to Della was when he was taking a quick, rare break the day before what would be the second-worst day of Gyro’s life. (Tokyolk took first, if only narrowly.) He had gone off on a quest in search of coffee - he was at the launch lot, and he’d unfortunately been banned from the closest coffee shop. (It was their fault anyway - what kind of coffee shop didn’t want an automatic coffee bean stocker? Even if it tried to stock customers when there were no beans left? Really, they shouldn’t have run out of beans. And his price of free coffee for life was so reasonable and small, really, when he usually frequented the one closer to the lab. Their loss.)

“Gyro!” Della sprinted up to him, face flushed from running in the chilly winds and early spring air. She held out a coffee from the aforementioned shop to him with a grin, prompting his frustrated rant, but Della just let him prattle on with a goofy grin gracing her face.

“What’s going on?” Gyro finally demanded, after watching Della beam ardently at his violent threats and calls for justice and revenge towards the coffee shop. “Your smile is… sillier than usual. Which is saying something.”

Della waved him off, his insult breezing past her. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see!!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is it a good surprise?”

Della beamed triumphantly back at him. “Definitely.”

Gyro frowned dubiously, but he knew Della well. For all her recklessness, when she was this sure about something, her judgement was usually worth listening to.

(Later, he’d wish he hadn’t listened to her, and trusted his own gut, for once.)

He shrugged. “I highly doubt it’s as good as you think it is,” he replied haughtily, prompting carefree laughter from Della.

“It definitely is. Just you wait.” She reached out with her free hand and booped him on the beak, causing him to reel back, away from her. “I can make an educated guess that you’ll love it.”

Gyro rolled his eyes at her rudimentary science terminology, causing her to giggle. “If it’s another movie night with Fethry, I’ll pass.”

“Better than that,” Della promised, her smug grin turning downright devious. It didn’t faze Gyro in the slightest.

He shrugged carelessly. “With you, that could either mean better or worse. Otherwise known as pure, unadulterated torture for me.”

Della laughed, but her smile softened into something more vulnerable and emotional, no longer masked by a carefree and reckless demeanor. “I’m telling you, Gyro. You’ll love it. Come on, when have I ever been wrong?’’

Gyro barked a laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that? Because I have a full comprehensive list at the top of my head, and that only covers the basics.”

“Hating black licorice doesn’t count,” Della protested. “It tastes worse than every iteration of Hell, and I’ve been to every iteration of Hell!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you taste every iteration of Hell?”

Della rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever. Just trust me on this one, will you?” she asked, hitting him with that almost vulnerable expression again.

Gyro huffed. “Fine.” He stuck a finger pompously in the air. “But I reserve the right to pass judgement when I see it.”

Della sighed without any real weight behind it. “Fine, whatever you want. But trust me, you’ll be blown away by the amazingness of this surprise!!!”

“We’ll see about that,” Gyro replied, smirking. “Now, away with you!! I have a highly important project to finish - which is unanimously more important than whatever surprise you have cooked up - and I simply cannot afford any distractions!!”

Della snorted knowingly. “Whatever. See you tomorrow at my amazing surprise! And you’re welcome for the coffee, Mr. Banned-From-Coffee-Shops!!”

Gyro shook his head fondly and made his way down the hill back to the lot. The Spear of Selene loomed in front of him, shining in the weak midday sun. It seemed frozen, waiting, on edge.

“Soon,” Gyro promised to no one in particular. He climbed inside to make some last-minute tweaks to the nuanced controls. “You’ll be in the air by May at the latest,” he promised, patting the cold metal of the rocketship. “Just let me make sure this is perfect. So nothing could ever go wrong.”

Jan 3, 2020 I 5:47 am

Donald Duck: hey asshole

Donald Duck: fyi Della’s really upset

Donald Duck: she really missed her friends ya know?

Donald Duck: Look, Gyro

Donald Duck: I know how this feels

Donald Duck: I know you’re scared

Donald Duck: but dude you face scarier stuff every day when your inventions go evil

Donald Duck: if you can face Lil’ Bulb turning evil not once but twice and still call him your son I think you can face your best friend

Donald Duck: and i know I said some shitty things to you the day we lost her and I’m sorry, that was uncalled for

Donald Duck: I was upset, as were you

Donald Duck: I forgive you if that’s not clear

Donald Duck: i forgave you a long time ago

Donald Duck: Della has too

Donald Duck: she never blamed you

Donald Duck: except maybe for the flavor of Oxy-Chew. But that saved her life, Gyro!

Donald Duck: I know I said your invention killed her, but your invention also saved her, and after she fixed it your invention brought her home

Donald Duck: now she’s back, but you’re losing her again

Gyro stumbling blearily awake, fumbling for his glasses, tired and disoriented, was nothing outside of the norm. He was a secluded, inane inventor with few friends, little social interaction, and no sleep schedule. Not to mention the plethora of projects piled on his desk vying for his attention, and the ever-present mug of coffee in his hand. (At the moment, there was a half-empty one on his desk, placed precariously on top of some blueprints.)

But his latest cup of coffee’s predicament was the least of Gyro’s worries at the moment. Because his phone, charging on his bedside, was blowing up. And that was decidedly not normal.

Gyro, at this point in time, didn’t have social media yet. (Fenton, Louie, and Dewey didn’t exist in his life yet, and so they had not had a chance to plot and execute an intervention.) Sometimes his phone blew up from the group chat with Daisy and Dickie, or the group chat with Della, Daisy, and Dickie, or just Della when she got excited. Or Fethry, once in a while, but Gyro was certain he’d blocked Fethry’s number this time.

Gyro clumsily put on his glasses and pulled himself up into a sitting position, still half-asleep. He scrolled through his notifications, frowning.

Mostly missed calls from Donald and Scrooge, a couple confused text notifications from Gladstone, two missed calls from the Board (that couldn’t be good), and one from Roxanne Featherly, a trainee journalist under Angus Fangus who had taken an unfortunate liking to calling him whenever one of his inventions went haywire.

Panic began to stir in Gyro’s gut.

The weirdest part, though, was that most of the notifications had not come from Della. She was by far his most ardent caller, and she had called, a couple times, but they were all over an hour ago. They were all buried by the rest of his missed calls.

Odd. Very odd.

Gyro tried calling Della first, to soften the blow of whatever was happening. Della wouldn’t sugarcoat the problem. She knew better. But there was something about her contagious enthusiasm and optimism, as well as her face-it-head-on attitude, that made whatever issue was at hand seem less daunting.

But his call went to voicemail.

Gyro shook his head, confused and more than a little scared at this point. Della almost never refused his calls, even if she was on an adventure (as long as she had cell service). It annoyed Donald to no avail, but Gyro was grateful for it - he didn’t reach out for social interaction with no reason.

But now? It only scared Gyro.

He frowned, contemplating, and called Donald next. Scrooge was more likely to call unprompted than Donald, and he didn’t want to deal with the Buzzards or Featherly yet, so Donald it was.

He picked up on the third ring.“Oh, so now he picks up!! When he can’t be of any help!! What’s the big idea, Doctor?!”

Gyro scowled, annoyance beginning to mix with the terror in his gut. “For your information, I just woke up. Now, what is going on?! Della won’t answer my calls and I have an ungodly amount of notifications at three AM. Seriously, people.”

“You want to know what is going on?!” Donald screamed, his voice and temper steadily rising. Gyro flinched at the volume, but kept the phone pressed close to his ear out of half morbid curiosity and half unwanted worry. “I’ll tell you what’s going on!!! Scrooge just killed Della!! And he used your stupid, untrustworthy invention to do it!!!”

Gyro nearly dropped the phone.“...Killed?” he nearly whispered. “How? The Spear of Selene isn’t ready yet and-”

“She took it!!” Donald screeched. “She took that good-for-nothing rocket and flew straight into a cosmic storm!”

“She wasn’t supposed to!” Gyro spluttered, numb. “She wasn’t even supposed to know about it yet!”

“Well, she did!” Donald spat darkly. “And now she’s gone. She left her boys orphaned. What were you thinking, making her that rocket?!”

“It was Mr. McDuck’s idea,” Gyro whispered numbly, automatically. “He- I- We never thought-”

“Scrooge,” Donald growled, and if Gyro knew him well enough he was dragging a frustrated hand down his face. “Of course. He’s too reckless and careless. He killed my sister.”

Gyro rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, unable to think of a coherent response. “I- I don’t think-”

“That’s right, you don’t think,” Donald snarled. “None of you do. And now my sister is dead, thanks to Scrooge. And you. Lose my number, Gyro. You won’t see me again.”

Click.

Gyro stared numbly at the floor, his phone still pressed against his ear, as the dial tone played. Finally, he slowly lowered it to his side and dropped it on the bed next to him before taking off his glasses and dropping his head into his hands.

Then, finally, he cried.

Della Duck. Dead. His best friend. Dead.

It was impossible, improbable. Della Duck was a famed adventurer barely two decades old. She breathed life. She had faced perils and terrors far worse than a cosmic storm, sustained injuries far worse, and bounced back.

Dead.

Because of Gyro’s invention. Maybe if he had worked a little harder, been a little more meticulous, he could have saved her.

He had failed again, gambled and lost with precious lives again, caused death and destruction again. It was Tokyolk all over again, and this time, the lost stakes were even more personal.

Gyro grabbed his phone suddenly, shakingly off the bed and pulled up Della’s contact. Her face beamed back at him, so full of life it seemed to burst from the tiny circle on his cracked phone screen.

He called her again, listening to it ring with baited breath even though he already knew the outcome.

“Hey, this is Della Duck, adventurer extraordinaire! I’m probably trekking through the Amazon or fighting a demon monarch in another dimension right now. Catch ya later!”

Gyro hung up before she could finish her last syllable and sobbed.

February 28 I 2:26 pm

Della Duck: fyi I’m picking Huey up today instead of Launchpad since he has a sleepover with his friend Jason today

Della Duck: you know

Della Duck: in case you wanna hide from me again

Della Duck: btw do you care if I snag that magnifying glass that shrinks people in like a month? We’re gonna go to Miniapolis soon

Della Duck: i mean i’m gonna take it anyway but figured you might want a heads up

March 14 I 5:18 pm

Gyro Gearloose: go ahead

Della Duck: GYRO!!!!

Della Duck: oh sorry

Della Duck: look I’m really excited but I also don’t wanna come on too strong

Gyro Gearloose: you’re fine

Della Duck: :D

Gyro Gearloose: it’s my fault I was being a coward

Gyro Gearloose: i couldn’t face my emotions and that was shitty of me

Della Duck: Gyro i took off in a rocket at midnight without telling anyone and left my kids without a mother for a decade

Della Duck: i win for stupid shitty actions here

Gyro Gearloose: it’s not a contest

Gyro Gearloose: we’re both shitty and stupid let’s leave it at that

Della Duck: yeah ur right

Gyro Gearloose: but dels

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry

Gyro Gearloose: it’s been almost a year and i fucking ignored you

Gyro Gearloose: i had the chance to get you back and i didn’t take it

Della Duck: hey

Della Duck: it’s okay

Della Duck: i know this is all a lot

Della Duck: i’m here now and that’s what matters

Gyro Gearloose: della i’m so glad

Della Duck: hey Huey is coming to the lab today

Della Duck: what if I come to pick him up and then you and I go out and catch up?

Della Duck: get expensive coffee on Uncle Scrooge’s dime just like old times?

Gyro Gearloose: fuck yeah

Gyro Gearloose: I’ve missed our expensive shitty coffee and gossip

Gyro Gearloose: I have SO much shit to talk about Dr. Akita

Gyro Gearloose: god

Gyro Gearloose: I hate him now

Della Duck: oh man

Della Duck: Huey told me a bit about Tokyolk but I want to hear all about it for you

Della Duck: and Boyd!!! Omg I can’t believe you’re a father

Della Duck: he’s so sweet

Gyro Gearloose: I don’t know if I’d call myself a father he has the Drakes

Della Duck: but you want to be don’t you?

Gyro Gearloose: ...yeah

Gyro Gearloose: but i’d be a shitty parent you know that

Della Duck: actually I don’t think so

Della Duck: i’m a shitty parent and I’m doing fine

Gyro Gearloose: what a surprise

Della Duck: wow thanks for the vote of confidence

Della Duck: but Beakley Donald and Scrooge are helping me

Della Duck: we’ll help you

Della Duck: join the shitty parents club!!

Gyro Gearloose: haha all right

Della Duck: also

Della Duck: i want to hear all about fenton

Gyro Gearloose: then I want to hear all about Penumbra

Gyro Gearloose: you’re not the only one who can play the love interest card

Della Duck: joke’s on you I WANT to talk about penny

Della Duck: anyway i’m leaving now

Della Duck: see you soon!!

Gyro Gearloose: i can’t wait to see you and your ugly 10-year-old clothes

Gyro Gearloose: seriously you’re wearing almost the exact same outfit

Della Duck: uh HELLO you have no right to shit on the way I dress look at yourself

Della Duck: you dress like a very old gay man

Della Duck: i mean that vest?? really?

Gyro Gearloose: at least i’m not old

Della Duck: touché

Della Duck: LP is driving so i’m almost there see you in a sec

Della Duck: and i’ll probably grab that magnifying glass now

Gyro Gearloose: that’s fine

Gyro Gearloose: i missed you

Della Duck: aw you old sap

Della Duck: never thought i’d hear you say anything like that tbh you’ve gone soft

Gyro Gearloose: I realized recently that my greatest mistakes were not as black-and-white as they seemed

Gyro Gearloose: and if Boyd can forgive me for unknowingly letting Akita turn him into a weapon of mass destruction and for me ignoring him for years and belittling him throughout this trip

Gyro Gearloose: and if I can face both brainwashed 2BO and Akita and win with the “power of love” or whatever than maybe I can talk to you

Della Duck: damn

Della Duck: I have SO many questions about Tokyolk

Della Duck: but i can hold onto them for a minute

The lab doors dinged open, but Della was sprinting out of them before they were fully open. The rest of Team Science watched warily as Della rushed towards Gyro, beaming and laughing, joy seeming to spill out of her. They expected him to hide, or push her away. but to their happy surprise, Gyro met her halfway and wrapped her in a hug.

Or, Della nearly crashed into him and squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe, prompting some annoyance, but it was crushed under the sheer joy and emotions of seeing his estranged best friend after eleven years.

Gyro laughed shakily, holding back tears, until he realized Della was crying too. She got snot on his work shirt, but he didn’t care.

They held each other for quite a while, until Della finally pulled back, wiped her eyes, and socked Gyro in the shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again, you hear?! I will hunt you down! I’ll give you your space but I’ll hunt you down! I won’t let this happen again!”

Gyro smiled and wiped away his own tears. “Yes, ma’am. Now, coffee?”

Della beamed. “The expensive kind. You got it.”

“It’s about time,” Manny tapped grumpily in the background, with Huey, Fenton, and Lil’ Bulb adding their agreement, but Della and Gyro ignored them as they flounced out of the lab.They had eleven years of friendship and gossip to catch up on, after all.

{it’s not too late, it was

never too late}

woohoo this is a wild ride! i didn’t intend for it to be this long but it just got away from me. Della and Gyro having a friendship, especially before the spear of selene, is one of my favorite headcanons. I think Della would basically grab Gyro and force him to be friends with her and to hang out with her haha.

I have a hard time writing Gyro as mean as he is in canon because I’m a sensitive sweet bean who isn’t creative or socially adept enough to come up with good insults (yet, hopefully). but i’m getting better! i hope this read as somewhat in character. same with Goldie, i’ve been trying to figure out how to write her for two years now sdfghgfds. I think I got Della’s character somewhat down though!

soft Gyro is more of an interpretation (albeit supported by canon) than canon fact but I LOVE it and i’m writing four (counting this) fics based off of it so get ready for that

the title and song lyrics are from People Need a Melody by The Head and the Heart. That song is really special to me because it was my closing song for camp last year (we would sing a song special for each unit each night before bed). I didn’t plan to use this song from the start (the working title was “DR. GYRO GEARLOOSE GET OFF UR ASS AND ANSWER UR PHONE -Della”) - I was listening to it one night, nostalgic for camp, while writing this fic and I realized the lyrics fit!

(also I was on a call for colorguard while I was writing this author’s note and my instructor said “I hear a lot of typing” lol)

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #gyro gearloose #della duck #ducktales fanfiction #wavey writes #my fanfic #donald duck #fenton crackshell-cabrera

85 notes · View notes

licenselesswriter · 3 years

Note

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44. And if I could send more, I would.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? Started reading when I was 12, started writing it, when I was 14, so reading, 19 years ago, and writing 17 years ago.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? I’m a 33.3% reader, 33.3% WIP machine, a 33.4% writer, and 100% mess, I usually spend my time doing an absurd amount of WIP that comes out of thin air, like, I can be eating an apple, boom, Bori WIP, a cup of coffee? Boom, Roro WIP, breathing? Boom, Lucaya WIP (that last one happens the most)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do? It’s called Unfaithful (EN), it’s on fanfiction.net, and honestly, it’s so well written, that I had nausea 3 times while reading it, the pain was so palpable that I felt ill from it.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now. Right now, and in order 1 - Unfaithful (EN) 2 - Twenty Nights 3 - Perfect

6. How do you find a new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction? Fanfiction or AO3, and have an excel doc with my favorite ships, then I go to the random number generator, putting 1 as the minimum and maximum the number of the last ship I added to the list, then hit random, and read about that ship, keep things fresh.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics? Both.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like? When they are on Tumblr, a few times.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if they have Tumblr, so, amirmitchell, snowdrifts, and Onde Tu Esteves

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for? Fandom: Game of Thrones, love all those modern universe AU I have to say. Pairing: Lucaya (Not a surprise) Character: Lucas Friar, Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, or Prince Zuko.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles? Coffee, food, and usually, Spotify, all that, sometimes, make my brain work into having titles about the things I want to write.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? I do outlines, in 5 stages, so a pretty big one. 1 - I write in my notebook, what I want to write, like a general idea. 2 - Post it on my walls and door, to give the story some structure. 3 - Notebook outline the arch of the story. 4 - Outline every chapter on word. 5 - Reduce that chapter into mini arches to write faster.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not? I do (now), I usually don’t post anything that is less than 2900 words, Why? because we must not forget that writers not only write for people in the fandom, they mainly write for themselves, and I love to read something among that word count because that’s long enough to keep me on the hook.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching? I do research for my fics, how deep? I can give indications for divorce paperwork in the state of New York, even if you want or not to go scorch the earth with the “fault” rule, I can give an appropriate value to an apartment or a house in New York, Texas, Nashville, and San Francisco, and I can do taxes on those states too, and I know more about how high school classes work in the US than in my country, even when I went to those classes, and I’m from Santiago, Chile, you know, in South America, like, the last country of South America

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t, once I finish writing something, I run away, and watch anime for a few hours, or work (Yeah, sometimes I write on my lunch hour)

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? I do apologize to “The Games we Play” I have no idea how I outlined your 26 chapters, but I’m still on chapter 2, and I’m sorry.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)? Sometimes I do because sometimes, I write things wrong.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? That happiness I get when I’m in the Zone, and I write something that makes me say “Fuck, that was good”

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? I call it “The Deep White”, also known as writer’s block.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? I don’t write it anymore, because I was banned from a forum for writing it, but I love to write a bad ending, like “Killing the main character that I make you love for 30 chapters in the end” ending. I’m evil, I know, sue me.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? The “Good girl trying to change the bad boy,” I hate, apologies, I DESPISE that trope, it’s not cool, first, to be with someone abusive, and second, to try to change someone because you think you’re so almighty that you will change him (or her) because of love, bs, I SAID BS.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist. I do, and of course, it’s named “Writing Shiet” because my brain can only process decent titles for fics (Says the guy who once named a fic “No Title”) Here’s the link

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing? Anime and Manga.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I don’t usually do it, but when I do it, I do it cryptic, like “You might be surprised, but this, I called in the beginning.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)? I ignore it, If I can ignore good advice, ignore something that gives me more stress it’s an easy cake.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it? I did but didn’t submit, I wrote for 2019 fictoberfest on Tumblr, but never send a shit, I did enjoy it tho

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. "Well, we're still not in Texas," he says, implying something not PG-13 at all. "My God, in what did I turn you?" Maya teases him before getting up and grab his hand, pulling him up. Lucas grins at her, "On," he replies, making Maya flirty hit his chest

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? I love writing Lucas and Maya, and honestly don’t know if it helps me or not LOL.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? 1 - From November to June CH3 A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the 'ding' of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction. "Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross, and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands." he defends himself. 2 - Ten Duel Commandments CH2 Maya smiles at him, "Since you're all Texan cowboy goody-good boy, I imagine you would relate more with the honorable Lord Stark," she teases him. "Says the woman who read three books in a row and texts me at four in the morning," he replies before pulling out his phone, "R+L=J," he teases her, reading her text. "That's private, asshole," Maya recriminates him. 3 - The One Who Stayed CH18 "Then, I have less... GET OFF ME FUCKER!" Maya screamed, punching the person who grabbed her arm, "Holy shit, Lucas." she says, looking at the person she just hit. "Noted, never approach to you by surprise." Lucas says on the floor, "Well, this makes me feel more confident about you being here alone." he says before start laughing.

33. What do you like writing better: one-shots or multi-chapter stuff? Multi-chapter, unless, it’s wedding fics because I love weddings.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is? None.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life? Not much, but has made me happier.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of? The Glee Project Fandom.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write. "Shawn called him, and he assures him that if you try something inappropriate, he has a shotgun," she adds, making Lucas's face go pale. "Well, guess like father, like son," he comments, making Maya show unexpected interest in his words.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? As I explained in the outline question, pretty tame if we count that I have my outline process numbered LOL.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? That I try to make it real, I try to make people feel something when they read.

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)? Tumblr? The One Who Stayed Fanfiction.net? Ten Duel Commandments

44. Rant about something writing-related. Please, let’s stop glorifying the “Bad Boy” character, he’s an asshole, allow me to explain, Bakugo, fucking asshole, he’s just a bully with an oversized ego, no, he’s not a tsundere, no, it’s not cute, that shit is abusive, and it really makes me want to punch people in their nose when the romanticize that bullshit.

Done

(Told ya I was bored)

#Licenseless Answers

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m2jay · 4 years

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True Self [Genos x OC]

Ch.1 | ~The Task~ (pt. 1)

There haven’t been any recent attacks lately within the city. There’s been a suspicious amount of time of peace. This didn’t sit well with Genos as he had thought that something would soon emerge out of the ground, or some unknown species from another planet would attempt to take over. The cities A-Z not being under attack seemed more concerning to him. ‘Is there some sort of invasion coming up ahead?’ he thought to himself as he let his thoughts wonder.

Saitama had been watching tv longer than usual. He didn’t bother doing any so-called “hero” work as no monsters or villains have shown up. To him, the small crimes like stealing purses and shoplifting weren’t much of a challenge or worth his time. Plus, he knew the struggle of meeting weekly report deadlines for C-Class Superheroes. It was especially harder for them to meet that cut off point during these times since there weren’t as much high stakes.

The two of them have been in the apartment together more lately due to their circumstances. Aside from lazing around, Saitama would always keep up his work out regimen. Genos would follow along with it in hopes of becoming as strong as him, even though he still thought it was full of crap, but he believed his master was wise and knew best.

Aside from working out, Genos would take account of the bald man’s habit of reading manga. With his excessive amount, he assumed that his master had learned many things from there. His workout routine didn’t explain much about his impeccable strength for just a punch. Perhaps that was it. Maybe the mangas were the answer. It made sense for him since that’s all Saitama ever did in the apartment. He either watched or read, and he had an abundant amount of manga in the bookshelf. He stared at the manga as he rested his face on the palm of his hand, elbow supporting the weight as it was on the table.

Not long after, Saitama got up from watching to grab one of his manga. He looked within his bookshelf and grabbed one that caught his eye. An amused smile came across his face as he pulled it out then sat down across from Genos. He hummed as he got into the story. He flipped through the pages and made inhumane noises at some points, rooting for the characters, or being amused by actions. At some point, he looked up and caught Genos staring intensely at him. He then lifted the manga up higher to cover his face as the cyborg made him uncomfortable. He didn’t understand why he was being looked at that way, and sweat began to drip off his head excessively. Saitama took one quick peek at Genos one more time and quickly averted his eyes after realizing he was still staring.

Minutes had passed and Saitama had enough. He closed his manga and slammed it onto the table, giving the cyborg his full attention. “So Genos..” he awkwardly initiated, “..what are you thinking about now?”

“Master! I now understand how you’ve attained your immense strength!” Genos exclaimed with confidence.

Saitama squinted in disbelief. He had told the young man what he did many times. 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10km everyday should do the trick. He had stated that that was all he did for a few years, but it seemed the cyborg still believed that there was more to it. He blew out some air with a whistle and replied, “Do you now, Genos? What might that be?”

He pointed at his manga shelf behind him. “It’s your mangas!” he insisted. “There’s surely plenty of things in them that you learn from.”

Internally, the man felt dumbfounded, but he went with it. Though he regretted taking him in as a disciple, he did enjoy the blonde cyborg’s company. However, he never really knew what to teach him because he truly didn’t have anything to teach, so he often made something up. “Oh, of course, Genos!” he went along with it. “There’s many things to learn from them.” The bald man then proceeded to skim through pages of his book for action scenes to show his disciple.

Genos nodded in agreement as he tried analyzing each image in depth. “May I use this as study material?”

Saitama froze as he slowly looked behind him to look at his manga with concern. Knowing his disciple, he knew he would take them all too seriously, some of which weren’t even action too. He had a selection of various genres, but they mainly consisted of action and slice of life. “Sure..” he allowed Genos to go through his mangas as he slid the one he was reading to him.

One by one, Genos went through his mangas. At times, when he finished, he would go outside to practice some of the moves he had seen. He’d often successfully do these skills after trying it once or a few times. It didn’t take long for him to finish reading all of Saitama’s action-based mangas. All there was left now were the others, including the slice of life ones. He had often seen his master read them when he was relaxed, but it seemed like there was more to it. Perhaps other than strength, he gained wisdom from these ones specifically?

The cyborg was determined to learn from these slice of life manga, but he couldn’t fully understand what the point was for them and asked the bald man for guidance. “Master, I don’t really see why you read these.” he commented.

At last, something for Saitama to give bullshit advice about, normal life. He lifted his fists up with confidence and exclaimed, “You see, Genos, that’s what you’re lacking! Knowing how to live normally on a day to day kind of lifestyle is good for the mind!” He internally happily cried as he finally found something he could genuinely try to teach his disciple. He then lowered his tone to sound more calm yet seemingly serious and said, “There’s more to life than training, you know.” He thought that surely this task would be easy.

Genos placed his cold, metal hand on his chin and looked down on the table, just thinking. “Doctor Kuseno had built my body to be able to function for a normal life though--” he was then interrupted by his master’s complaints.

“Ahh! No!! That’s not what I meant!” Saitama whined as he placed his hands on his cheeks and tightly drooped them down out of frustration. He then pointed at him fiercely. “I mean you need to live like your age! Yeah! Something like that!”

The cyborg quickly wrote down what his master had said, but didn’t write as much as he usually did. He looked back up at him to hear more, only to find him shaking his head. “And?” he asked as he anticipated more words of wisdom.

Saitama’s eyes widened but still stared at Genos blankly, thinking how dense he could possibly be with social related things. “Genos!” He got up from the table and grabbed him by the arm to drag him out of the apartment. “Out! You idiot! Go!” he kicked him out the door and slammed it shut. With a sigh of, he smiled and raised his arms ecstatically. A day without dealing with Genos’ questions sounded relieving. As he walked back to the living room, he noticed one of his beloved books were missing. Bending over to check under the table, it wasn’t there. A vein popped out of his forehead out of irritation as he made his way back to the front door. As he opened it swiftly, he looked down and noticed Genos sitting down reading. He took it out of his hands immediately and glared muttering, “I thought I told you to go..”

Genos’ eyes averted from his master’s as he awkwardly got up and went away to roam around the city. He pondered and found himself deep in thought. “Shoujo manga..” he muttered to himself. Not long after, he himself got irritated as he placed both hands behind his head and bent back a bit to look up and get a deep breath but not let out a big sigh.

After walking aimlessly, Genos had found himself at the udon shop that he and his idiotic yet wise master had went to after their first training session together. A sense of relief went through him as he entered. The familiarity the place gave him allowed him to expect whatever could’ve possibly come. When he entered, he noticed that it was more packed than usual, which was odd.

The only seat that was left had luggage by the table. The owner of the place insisted that no one was sitting there at all and assured Genos it was alright for him to sit there. He nodded in agreement as he trusted the man’s words and sat down. Soon after, he was greeted by a new staff member. They caught his attention since he’s never seen them before. He kept an eye on her. She looked quite frantic, probably because of all the customers that were there that day. “Hi there! What can I get you?” she kindly asked him.

Genos raised his hand up and said, “I can eat somewhere else.” he insisted.

“Do you not like the food here?” she awkwardly asked.

He shook his head and replied, “It seems too busy here. I’d be causing more trouble for the staff.”

She waved her hands. “No, no. It’s really okay. Trust me.” the girl urged with her brows furrowing with concern.

“Miyu!” the owner called out to her. “We have more of the orders ready to give out!”

“Coming!” she looked at Genos and lifted a finger, then briefly apologized, “I’m sorry, but I’ll be right back with you.” Miyu quickly made her way to pick up the finished orders to bring them to their tables. She then returned back to Genos’ table and smiled. “Sorry if that took a while. What was it that you would like to order?”

“I’ll take the Super Spicy Mega-Monster Udon Challenge, please.” he requested.

Across the room, the owner spotted Miyu taking Genos’ order. “Oi, it’s Demon Cyborg again! Miyu, did he order our special udon challenge?”

‘Demon Cyborg?’ she thought as she looked down at Genos, a bit confused, then at her owner. Miyu stared at her boss, not understanding what he meant, and awkwardly nodded. “Yes.” she responded bluntly.

Her boss sighed as he placed his hands on the sides of his head and shook it. “Get over here, Miyu!”

Miyu went up to him in a hurry as she could tell that he was stressed out. “What is i--?”

He shoved the bucket of udon and reward money into her hands. “Someone else ordered it but wussed out. Go give it to Demon Cyborg, and here’s the money too. He always finishes it.” he said. As he watched her walk away to give the cyborg his food, he said one more thing. “Your shift ends after you give it to him. You’ve had a lot of commissions today, so you’re all set to go.

Her eyes lit up and her mood seemed to change. If someone paid attention, they would’ve noticed the difference. She let out a sigh of relief and happily gave the cyborg his food and reward money. “Here you go!” she said as she placed his items on the table. For a second she eyed at his reward money but shook her head. “Must be nice..” she said to herself. Right after doing that she asked, “Is it.. Alright if I sit in this seat right here?”

Genos shrugged. “I see no problem with it.” he answered.

“Thank you.” Miyu then plopped herself down onto the seat and began to open the luggage. She pulled out a manga and began reading intently, feeling relaxed.

When Genos finished, he felt more energized since he gave himself more biofuel. He was about to leave until he noticed what the girl was reading in front of him. “Is that a.. Shoujo manga?” he asked in awe.

Miyu looked up at him as she raised a brow. “Yeah, why?”

“I would like to read it.” Genos looked at her with confidence and waited for an answer as he gave her his full attention. Since his master had taken back the one he was reading, maybe he could possibly read from someone else.

She moved her book to the side a bit. “Why would you wanna read it?” Miyu was in disbelief that a boy was actually eager to read a shoujo manga. To her, he seemed like the serious type that didn’t really pay attention to such things.

“I wish to learn about life from it.” he told her.

A small smile came across her face from his answer. To her, he sounded determined yet genuine too. Miyu lifted the manga up to show him the cover. “This is a shoujo manga, but there’s also shounen aspects in it. There’s a lot of action in it where the characters fight these monsters and demons.” She explains some of the things that may interest him.

“Shounen in shoujo?” Genos asked puzzled. “That’s quite new.. But I don’t see why it can’t be a thing. He gently swatted his hand showing a dismissing manner. “I understand fighting and skills, but I want to learn about the other things in shoujo.”

“Demon Cyborg!” the shop owner called out to him.

“Yes?” he turned to look at him. When he did so, he noticed everyone else had already left. ‘Strange.. I wasn’t paying attention to my sensors. I shouldn’t be letting my guard down so easily.’ he thought to himself internally with shame.

“I respect all that you do, but we’re closing soon. I mean- you can stay all you want, but I would think you would prefer going home, yeah? A hero like you deserves the luxury of comfort.”

‘Hero?’ Miyu thought as she squinted her eyes as she looked at him. She did take note of his features, but she didn’t fully understand the whole thing. Doing awkward jazz hands, she made an offer, “If you want to continue this conversation, I can stay to talk and I’ll close up the shop.”

The blonde cyborg raised his hand. “No need for that. I’m sure you all need the luxury of your homes as well.” Genos got up from his seat and pushed it back to the table properly. He turned his head to look down at Miyu. “You can call me Genos.”

“I’m Miyu.” she properly introduced herself. “Genos, do you come here often?” Miyu asked curiously.

He looked to the side to think for a minute. “I guess you can say that. Why, Miyu?”

She rummaged through her luggage to pull out the other volumes. “Here.” she insisted on giving them. “Just promise to return them after you’re done reading, learning, or whatever.”

Genos slightly bowed and gratefully took them off her hands.”Thank you, I appreciate it.” He then dug into the pockets of his pants for the reward money and gave it to her in return. “Take this. I noticed that you glanced at them at some point. I assume you need it?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s your reward! Really, it’s okay!” she persisted, feeling guilty.

He placed it on the table. “I insist. You need it more than me.” he said. “Plus, you’re entrusting me with your knowledge. That’s fair.”

Miyu’s jaw dropped but she smiled and internally felt teary because it was true. “Thank you, Genos. I’m thankful.” She waved as she noticed him about to take off his leave. “Bye, see you soon!”

“Of course. You were quite nice if I might say.” He waved and gave her a small reassuring smile as he walked out. “By the way, you should keep smiling happily. I thought you looked nice.”

“I’m honestly really awkwa--!” Miyu paused after being caught off by his word. ‘Does he know social cues? Or is he really just that straightforward?’ She shook her head and placed her hand on her cheeks, feeling it tinge as it was slightly warm. She could tell she was somewhat pink, but it wasn’t noticeable unless someone went up to her face.

“That’s strange of him.” her boss commented.

She turned to look at him as she grabbed her luggage’s handle, ready to go. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t really see S-Class heroes from the Hero Association really socialize during their free time.” he answered, baffled.

Miyu shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” as she walked out of the shop with her stuff. She looked up at the udon shop’s sign then down at the money in her hands, which she held to her chest. She sighed and had a saddened look on her face. Without wasting any more time, she walked off.

Meanwhile, Genos walked back to his master’s apartment. He felt quite ecstatic since he had more material to study and learn from. If it wasn’t for Miyu’s kindness, he wouldn’t have gotten them. He was surprised by her generosity, but he surely wasn’t going to let it go to waste. When he arrived at his master’s place, he carefully knocked on the door and waited for him to open it.

Saitama soon opened the door looking like a bum. When he opened the door, he had this dull expression as he picked his nose with his pinky. He flicked his fingers to the side, making sure nothing was sticking to it. Before actually acknowledging his own disciple’s return, he noticed the mangas he was holding. “Ohh!” he gushed with amusement. “You got the Sakurahime The Legend of Princess Sakura volumes?! Where?!”

Genos walked in and made his way to the living room. “I got them at the udon shop we often go to.” he answered respectfully as he sat himself down to begin reading.

“Wow!” he gasped in surprise. “The udon shop sells manga now?”

“No, Master, you misunderstood.” he corrected him and said, “I borrowed them from one of the workers there.”

The bald man closed the door and made his way to the cyborg, crossing his arms. “A worker?”

“Yes, they had it in a luggage.”

Saitama spat a bit. “What a weird dude.”

“No, Master. They were actually quite kind.” he added, “She was new.”

“Oh, in her purse.” he commented bluntly. “She has taste.” he referred to her manga choice.

“No, Master, luggage.” he persisted.

“Shut up! You’re talking about purses! I know what I’m talking about.” he exclaimed stubbornly, believing he knew.

Genos rolled his eyes as he continued to read. With his sensors, he sensed his master not moving. He looked up from the book and noticed him looking at him with excitement. Feeling unsettled, he questioned him. “Yes?”

“I want to read!” Saitama shouted excitedly. “You have the physical copies right here, and I’m too lazy to search them up online.”

The cyborg glared a bit at the man’s laziness. “I must study first.” he told him.

Saitama’s shoulders drooped as he looked up at his ceiling, giving a heavy sigh, “Agh!” he then complained, “You’re gonna write a bunch of stuff into a journal though and take a long time!” He internally screamed as he knew Genos would analyze every single small detail to precision. He’ll take an image, action, or word and go into a deep depth with it. His intense analyses didn’t seem necessary to him, but he knew he couldn’t stop him. “Genos! Hey, Genos!” The bald man continued to persist. “Genos..”

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livinglikearoyal · 4 years

Text

Love on a Schedule | Namjoon

Summary: You were able to join the boys on their trip to New Zealand and comfort Namjoon when he is unable to enjoy the trip due to stress.

Inspired by Bon Voyage S4 : E6 when Namjoon decided to forgo cycling to work and the anonymous request “I was just wondering if I could request a Namjoon/reader oneshot based on the lyric “let them be them, let us be us” from Love Maze.”

Director Junsoo to camp. Namjoon has decided to return to the campsite. Please ensure that the cameras around the site are ready for his arrival. No personnel is required to remain onsite other than camera op one. Once again, Namjoon will be returning to the campsite for the afternoon. Once the site is prepared, no personnel required to remain besides camera op one.

The rise in volume signals the departure of the staff that remained at the cabins for the day. Quiet murmurs spread throughout the common room as the men and women that expected to have the afternoon off to rest and prepare for the rest of their trip find this time put momentarily on hold.

Director Hyangmi veers away from the small group heading toward the door when she sees you standing near the front desk, holding your coffee mug. Moving to meet her halfway, you prepare to ask your question when she interrupts.

“You want to go, don’t you.” It was a statement and not a question. It seems as if she has gotten to know you well as that is exactly what you want. Her face is stern for a moment before it breaks into a small smile. “Give it an hour or so for the camera op to get some footage for the broadcast. After that, you can head that way. While the camera op is there be sure…”

“To remain inconspicuous. The camera shouldn’t see or hear me. Understood!” You give an exaggerated salute.

The director shakes her head as she chuckles, “I’m glad you were able to come along this time, Y/N. We’ll be back shortly.”

You return to your seat near the fireplace and continue to eat your previously forgotten lunch as your mind wanders.

Namjoon has been having a rough time lately. The month-long break was meant to be a time for the band and company members alike to recharge and refocus themselves: go on trips, visit friends and family, eat whatever they want, sleep the day away. While on paper and in the headlines this seems like a fantastic idea, for a person like Namjoon, it was a struggle. He had been working almost without pause for nearly ten years. His love and dedication to his work is something that he takes pride in, even when it is at its most challenging. So to have a month where the expectations are not for him to produce content but to stay out of the studio, it caused its own form of anxiety for Namjoon. While you weren’t able to be with him due to your own job, you know that he tried the normal vacation things: trips to other countries, countless museums, walks with his dog and bike rides along the river, dinners with his family. He did all of that. He enjoyed all of that. However, at the end of the day, he felt like he was neglecting what he should truly be doing.

You were able to join Namjoon for the last week of his vacation. He treated you to a trip that you had been wanting to take for as long as he could remember and ended it with a couple of nights spending time with both of your families. While you had been able to see his internal conflicts during the countless video calls you had with him and you tried to cheer him up, it was during this week when he opened up about how he struggled with the break. He confessed that he felt the stress building and almost guiltily showed you the notebook of lyrics, ideas, and deadlines he just couldn’t help but put into writing throughout the month.

Now, you were allowed to follow the boys to New Zealand and spend some more time with Namjoon, albeit interrupted time. You have to respect the filming schedule for Bon Voyage. Essentially if there is a cameraman around–you should not be seen or heard. This is when BTS having seven members comes in handy. When some of the members go on an excursion or begin to do something ridiculous, that is when you and Namjoon can have some time to yourselves. The crew usually goes to the bare minimum shortly after dinner so you can usually spend some time with the entire group at that point as well. Otherwise, it was very hit and miss. With that being said, you were provided lodging in the cabins near the campsite and got to see the beauty of New Zealand while spending time with your boyfriend so you can’t complain too much. At all, really.

Coming back to reality, you notice that over an hour has passed. You grab your bag and stop by the kitchen before heading toward the star of your daydreams.

You see the camera operator leaving the RV as you make it to the campsite. He nods to you in acknowledgment and holds the door open, gently closing it once you are safely on the interior steps.

Namjoon doesn’t initially notice your appearance. His hands are in his hair, leaning over his notebook like a desperate college student trying to block out the nonexistent library noise after a regretful night of partying before an exam. You can hear faint sounds coming from his earbuds and can see the tension radiating off of his frame.

It isn’t until you place the steaming mugs that you brought along with you onto the table that he registers that he has a visitor.

“Thanks,” he says while scratching out something in his notebook.

“Anytime.”

Looking up for the first time, his surprised look quickly fades to one of curiosity.

“Babe?”

“Filming is over for a while. I got here right as he left.”

“I didn’t even see him leave.”

“Understandable. You were really focused.”

“How’d you know…”

“Everyone knows your here this afternoon, Joon. They announced it over the walkies. The director said they’d only film you for about an hour.”

“Ahh, yeah. I messed up their afternoon off.” He tosses the pen he has been writing with onto the table and leans his head back.

“That’s not it. They know you.”

He opens his eyes to look at you in question. When you don’t respond, he sighs and finally takes a drink from his mug.

“Have a seat?”

You run your hand lightly through his hair before settling onto the bench across from him. You grab a book from your bag before taking a sip from your own mug and making yourself comfortable.

“You’re not going to tell me to stop working?”

“Would it help if I did?”

A pause. “Probably not.”

“Then no, I won’t.” You smile softly at him. “I’ll just read a little bit while you work. Maybe I can even help you think of a word or something when you can’t quite think of how you want to say it.”

You take another sip of your drink before opening your book. The smile that Namjoon sends your way goes unnoticed by you.

After finishing a couple of chapters in your book, you stretch and take in your surroundings. Your feet have found their way onto the bench across from you so that your lower legs are resting against Namjoon’s thighs. Observing the man in question, he is in an almost identical position as he was when you entered the RV. You spend some time watching him: the tapping of his fingers against his head or paper, his grip on the pen, his mouth forming unknown words. Only after he lets out several frustrated sighs do you nudge him with your feet to capture his attention. He looks up and removes one of his earbuds; eyebrow raised in question.

“What about a change of scenery?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t we take this outside? The sunshine and view might help your ideas flow better. It is starting to get kind of stuffy in here anyway.”

He looks around reluctantly, “We could open the windows?”

“Namjoon.”

He sighs. “Alright. It wouldn’t hurt to stretch a little bit anyway.”

Grabbing your book and a blanket from the bed, you take his unopened water bottle and lead the way out of the RV. You glance around the campsite and find the perfect spot to sit. The two of you take your time walking the short distance to the pair of chairs set up near the lake, where you lay the blanket out in front of both of them.

“Lay down.” You point to the blanket.

“Y/N, I didn’t know…”

“Don’t make it weird. Just lay down, please?”

He grins and lays down on his back after setting his notebook, phone, and pen safely in one of the chairs.

“Roll over.”

You sit down next to him as he does so before saying, “Oh, so you aren’t going to make that rated R?”

He chuckles and a smile comes to your face when you see his entire body shake because of this.

“Take a bit of a break, Joonie,” you say. “Stretch out and relax for a few minutes.”

He lays his head on his arms and looks at you with a smile.

“That sounds good.”

“Hmmm,” you respond before kneeling and beginning to massage his back and shoulders.

“That feels good.”

“Hmmm.”

The next fifteen minutes are spent with his eyes closed and your hands working their magic on the tension in his back and neck. The only sounds that can be heard are that of the surrounding wildlife and the occasional gasp or groan as you hit a particularly tender spot. You are content to continue for quite a while longer when you notice that his eyes are open and you can see the thoughts forming.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For this.”

Your hands stop their ministrations and you sit back so you can look at him better.

“What?”

He sighs and sits up as well.

“We can rarely spend time together. And whenever we can spend time together, my mind is elsewhere. That isn’t fair to you. Everyone else can go to dinners together whenever they want, stay at home to watch movies, spend birthdays at amusement parks. But you’re stuck with me, an idol that can’t be seen in public even if he had the time and energy to go out. A songwriter that sucks at putting his thoughts into words. A stressed workaholic that can’t find a balance between home and work, even after a decade. A boyfriend that can’t treat his girlfriend like they do in movies.” He grimaces. “We have to love on a schedule. And when we do find the time, it seems like you are always taking care of me. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for all of that to sink in. In that moment, Namjoon seems to shrink into himself and looks down at his hands.

You place a hand over his and use your other hand to guide his chin upward to look at you, finally resting it on his cheek. The unshed tears in his eyes are mirrored in your own.

“Namjoon, you have nothing to apologize to me for. I enjoy taking care of others. That’s why I do what I do for a living. The fact that I have this amazingly strong, ambitious, and responsible boyfriend that allows me to take care of him, makes me feel important. Special. We all have a lot on our plates and you are no different. The amount of expectation and responsibilities that you have is unreal. You have so many upcoming projects to balance along with the responsibilities of being a leader and brother to the guys. But you manage it and you succeed more times than not. And the amazing thing about you is that you take those times that you don’t succeed and create the most beautiful and inspiring work from it, whether you share it with the public or not.”

A tear falls as he shakes his head.

“You are one of the most important people in my life, Joonie. Of course, I want to take care of you. Of course, I’d love if we could be together at all times of day and have that typical fairytale romance. But you know what? I absolutely adore what we have. It gives us both the opportunity to flourish in our own independence while also having the comfort of knowing that the other is just a phone call away. That distance…that makes times like this even more sweet and memorable. This relationship has not only brought me you, my prince charming, but it has also brought so many more people into my family. The guys and crew feel like my brothers and sisters. I hope that my family and friends are the same for you?”

He nods.

“So what if we can’t have dinner in the same room every night. So what if we don’t spend our birthdays together at arcades or amusement parks. That is what everyone else does. Let them be them. Let us be us. I absolutely love every single moment we have spent together. Every single trip. Every word. Every touch. It doesn’t matter if we are somewhere extraordinary like this or on different sides of the globe, speaking through the phone. I’ve loved it all. You are home to me.”

You kiss him gently on the lips.

“I love you. I love you the most.”

“Y/N, I…” Namjoon tilts his head like he can’t figure out what to say before he moves forward, capturing your lips in his once again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your smile is reflected on his face as you scoot to sit between his legs and lean into him. His arms come to wrap around you and he leans his chin on your shoulder. The two of you sit looking at the gorgeous scenery for an unknown period of time, sharing gentle kisses and touches, whispered promises.

“You know, you can go ahead and work on your music if you want to. I’ll stay,” you say softly after you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You sure?”

“Hmmm. If there is ever a time when I want or need your undivided attention, I will let you know. Just like I hope you would let me know. Right now though, I just want to be around you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“Alright.” He places a kiss on your temple before untangling his limbs from yours to stand up and retrieve his supplies. He soon returns, handing you the book you had been reading before laying down on his stomach and getting to work. You watch him for a few moments before making yourself comfortable, using his back as a pillow. You let out a contented sigh when you feel his back move slightly, signaling that he has started to write.

You’ll have to be sure to thank Director Hyangmi when you get back to the cabins for having the crew avoid filming near the lake once everyone returned.

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constantwritingblock · 4 years

Text

Stolen Worlds 2

Queen of Thieves: Takes place just after the MC breaks up with Nikolai.

Avengers: Takes place during The Winter Soldier, but with additional characters.

Unknown!Nick Fury x reader, (previous) Nikolai Stirling x reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x reader, (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader.

Also just a statement, for any other languages spoken in this piece it will be done in bold and in English so that you are aware characters are speaking a different language. I find this easier than finding a bad translation.

After finding out of her meeting with Captain Rogers, Y/N is given the opportunity to keep herself in the loop better. Question is, will she take it and risk her game to be outplayed or will she refuse. Does she also realise that the people she left behind are still looking for her too?

Chapter Two

Time had gone by quicker than expected. She was finally more out in the field, so to speak. Keeping an eye on the trio that Fury had also trusted to destroy Hydra. Her job was to ensure that they got the right information and were taking whatever action they deemed appropriate. Currently, subtly, overseeing Sam calling Sitwell was a breeze though she couldn’t really keep all her attention on them, she still had show up within S.H.I.E.L.D. and also the Hydra base that stored The Winter Soldier. Though when she caught sight of them on the rooftop near S.H.I.E.L.D.’s building, she had to send an emergency distraction so no one else would see them, especially Rumlow.

Jolting the system into error, she used that as a diversion before slipping out to spy on Romanoff and Rogers. It was obvious they were interrogating Sitwell, though she was surprised to see Captain America hold him up over the god knows how long drop. A sigh of relief escaped her as he put the man down, he was still a valuable asset after all, pinning the blame on someone was certainly valuable, but then Agent Romanoff kicked him off the roof! Of course she did, I guess violence is needed… oh wait here he comes again…

It appeared that they got what they needed out of Sitwell, he knew the most about Arnim Zola and the system he had produced. She was glad that they caught on her info, though she was irritated that they didn’t know who she was. It wasn’t necessarily part of the agreement for her to be unknown but it would have been ideal so they didn’t accidentally kill her. Rushing back inside, Y/N slowed her pace down when she was closer to her desk. Smiling politely at her co-workers, she’d never really call them that, they were her enemies.

Clasping her fingers together she pushed them in front of her. The stretch did some good as she went back to typing away on the computer, a quicker rate than the others. Someone from higher up came at that point, shouting orders to fix what Y/N had broken, simply tapping away on the keyboard brought her back to fixing everything quickly, especially if Rogers and Romanoff had found Zola, anything technological on her end needed to be right. The team leader in this sense had reached her desk. “Agent Z, system tells me you fixed it. Well done. The Director wants to see you.” Nodding her head patiently, she stood up and followed him through to Pierce’s office. Now to finish off Sitwell...

At his holler to enter, she meekly opened the door, peeping her head through. “Sir?” He gave her a very warm smile, which was unlike him, it normally was quite distant but today something had changed his mood. “Ah, Agent Z, good work on fixing the issue we just had, heard how you just came in from break and fixed it instantly. I need more people like you… Oh, do you also have the progress report on the Soldier?”

Gesturing to the computer in the room, he gave her full permission to use it, she logged in and the holographic screen came into view as he read the contents. “It seems that you’re the only person who can handle my deadlines here…”

Y/N just shrugged her shoulders, “It’s just part of how I work, sir.” The last thing she needed was for him to get suspicious of her quick action. Flickering her gaze around the room, his attention to her was precise. Pierce looked at her questioningly, “Something wrong Agent?”

This was it. This was her moment to get in his good graces and have more control over everything. “I just heard about Captain America and Agent Romanoff splitting from S.H.I.E.L.D. and…”

The man sat back in his large office chair. “You have nothing to worry about there. It was a minor thing and you are a precious member of Hydra. So, if anything is not to your satisfaction, then don’t hesitate to inform me.” Dismissing her wariness he assured her that he liked to keep valuable assets alive where possible.

So that’s his game to keep me roped in. “No, it’s not the worry of having a target on my back, it’s just that, I took a smoke break on the roof to get away from the chaos of fixing other nimbicile’s mistakes and… I must be paranoid to you…” Chuckling nervously, she casually reached a hand up to the back of her neck to scratch awkwardly.

Though it was all in success as Pierce appeared to have believed her act. He didn’t say anything, just leant forward as a sign for her to continue. “I saw… Captain America, with a red-headed woman, they had Sitwell and were chatting. I heard about a possible mole within here, but from the way they were speaking… it just seemed off to me.”

Pierce cocked a brow at Y/N’s words. Shit I’m losing him. “I don’t mean to sound like a snitch or anything to you sir, but i just found it peculiar.” Rolling the chair backwards, he stood up and stalked his way over to the petite woman. Lifting her head to gaze into his eyes he spoke. “It’s not snitching, it’s being honest about someone going against Hydra. Don’t stress, you did the right thing.” He paged for his assistant to get Rumlow into the office.

Well so far, so good…

—

Sitting crossed legged on the couch as she chomped down on some Chinese takeout she kept her focus on Fury as he paced the room. “Fucking hell, just burn a hole in my carpet already why don’t you?” Stopping in his tracks he turned to her. “You bumped into Rogers didn’t you? You may need to keep doing that for a bit.”

What now? Is he being serious? That’s a dumb question Y/N of course he is. “Right and how do I do that without Rumlow or Pierce finding out and thinking I’m a mole?” Walking to her, he sat down next to her. “Listen kid, you’re smart enough to do this and due to the nature of things if they get too messy for you… I’m taking off the violence ban, trust your instincts or your shifts as you call ‘em.” Letting out a groan Y/N really wanted to slap Fury for this. He knew well enough she’d end up going back to that lifestyle.

“I really wish you hadn’t come to me for all of this… I don’t want this…” Muttering into her food, she took another bite as he gave her an incredulous look. “Go back to your criminal lifestyle then. Like to see how you persuade your way outta that one.” She knew he had her caught. Fuck sake…

—

Steve had been going to that coffee shop on the regular since meeting that woman. She was a right beauty for him, barely any woman caught his attention nowadays, but there was something about the way she held herself that had him hooked and he couldn’t resist talking to her. Of course he just stayed from afar in hopes of her walking in. The last thing he needed was Hydra tracking his movements and getting innocents in trouble. It appeared to be another bust of a morning, she hadn’t shown up again. Maybe she only came here once… I should’ve gotten her number, I must look like a stalker.

He felt like one too. It was getting too much and if he couldn’t see her again before things blew up then he guessed that was all he could do. Steve didn’t understand the change for him, but if he could pinpoint it, finding out Peggy Carter was still alive and her telling him to move on made him feel less guilty and more excited to talk to this woman. Just as he was about to leave he caught sight of a burgundy backpack.

Opening up her laptop once again she began running software in the background to triangulate where Captain America could be. If she were to do this, she needed to keep running into him after all. While doing so, she set up some random research essay from her university days. If I get interrupted at least they can see my cover story…

It wasn’t long before the man of the hour came about. He noticed her immediately, ordering himself a coffee before joining her at her table. “Hey, good to see you again.” His melodic voice filled her ears. “Hey, yourself, Steve right?”

Playing up with his game, she didn’t want to show her interest in him. Though he may be Captain America, she was debriefed enough by Maria Hill to know he was a gentleman but also due to his upbringing something felt wrong about sleeping with him or doing anything further while she was under an alias. She didn’t like lying, but how could she even bring up the fact that she was his insider. Hey Captain Rogers, I’m Agent Z, I am the one you can trust in bringing Hydra down. Yeah, it wouldn’t exactly go well.

—

Struggling to keep himself in check, Nikolai was growing worried to say the least, he understood their argument and breakup was partly his fault for his wish to be perfect but also realised that Y/N couldn’t say the words he thought she would always say after the last time. His reaction wasn’t the best of course, but maybe if he did say them once more, they wouldn’t have ended as badly. He, being a professional had kept his cool, but it was so hard.

He missed her, his thoughts were only of her, craving to see her smile, hear her laugh once again. He had no idea who had taken her but he could see the look on Remy’s face to know that he was feeling just as guilty that he hadn’t grasped a tighter hold on her quicker.

Zoe was doing her best in tracking Y/N, everyone had been ringing her constantly, her phone was still on but no response as of yet. It must mean that whoever had kidnapped her wasn’t after the Poppy as a whole, but were they after him? Knowing she was his one weakness could be a factor as to why, so why hasn’t anyone rung for ransom or even to blackmail them?

Barely anyone had spoken to each other in the weeks since she had gone missing. Vivienne was less flirtatious with the rest as normal. Remy just kept to himself, more shut off. Zoe was non-stop on her phone or laptop or computer searching for Y/N. Jett had barely left his room and when he did he’d be covered in paint, no doubt trying to fill in the emptiness of art that Y/N brought to the team and Leon… well, Leon would disappear in the night, reappearing at the crack of dawn, shattered, heading straight to bed. They were using all their resources to finding her but nothing came back to them, no sightings or word of her from the Underbelly, nothing.

Sitting at his desk, Elizabeth sensed her master was filled with unease doing her best to comfort him as he flicked through his phone at the pictures Y/N was adamant on taking of the two of them. God, he missed her. He wished the fight never happened. He should’ve fought for her more, perhaps promised her to at least try to remove the perfectionist in him, even if it was empty.

Nikolai regretted very few things in his life but letting Y/N go was one of them, especially if he knew he’d never see her again. Snapping his attention towards the knocking that sounded on his door, he opened it to see Remy. “Zoe has something!”

Rushing to the lounge he sat down waiting for Zoe to finish typing on her laptop. “Okay, so I found her. Coffee shop in Washington DC. It appears whoever has taken her is nowhere to be seen, but I do see her with some blond guy, it’s the second time they’ve seen each other and she’s happy.” That instantly breaks Nikolai’s heart, he didn’t want to hear that but was glad she was alright at least.

“Looks like we are going there. I want to know what happened, it doesn’t seem like her to quit without saying anything.”

—

Reading the message on her phone, Y/N couldn’t believe that Fury had caught wind of this so quickly. Right okay, so Pierce is planning on bringing officials into this with no choice. Time for phase three. Switching her phone off, she paced herself over to the dark basement of S.H.I.E.L.D.. She couldn’t believe the balls Pierce had to hide the Winter Soldier in plain sight. This would be her first meeting with him, just not alone, unfortunately. Rumlow was going to be there, for her own protection of course, as Pierce stated, there’d be times where he’d lose control of himself and he wouldn’t dare think about his guilt if something bad happened to her.

Entering the thoroughly guarded trap she found herself face to face with the man himself. His distinct blue eyes caught her attention, he was stunning, but the expression on his face made her feel guilty. He’s only a toy to them. There’s a real man in there. What made her stomach churn more was the fact that she knew exactly who the man behind the Winter Soldier was. Bucky Barnes. Captain America’s best friend from the 40s. Stepping closer she noticed how he flinched when Rumlow followed her. Only a glance over her shoulder told him to stay put as she stepped even closer.

“Agent Z,” one of the ‘doctors’ greeted her, “he understands English and speaks it but is refusing to comply. We understand you know a variety of languages and was wondering if you could get him to talk. None of us know anymore than English.”

Y/N took another glance at Rumlow, he nodded. Turning back to the Soldier, she began. “Soldat, do you know where you are?” The man merely looked at her when a guard decided to punish him for his silence, electrocuting him. “Stop that, continue that and he won’t comply. I will not use any violence on him while speaking to him.”

This shocked everyone in the room, but they listened nonetheless from fear of what Rumlow would do to them as punishment for one and two, what Pierce would do if caught wind of them disobeying her. Everyone that worked for Hydra within S.H.I.E.L.D. knew that he treated her like a daughter, something that Y/N found creepy. Once the guard backed off she spoke once more.

“Sorry about that. I wish you no harm. I am unarmed and just want to help you.” He furrowed his brows. “Help me in what way?” He was confused to say the least but at she was just happy that he replied to her, even if it was in Russian. Smiling brightly at him she chatted away. “Let’s just say unlike these people around us, I am more of a friend. I want to help you escape and find your life again, but you have to trust me. I know it’s asking a lot but if you comp- no, cooperate with me I can tell you more as these people won’t be around as much when I see you.”

—

Bucky didn’t know if it was the innocent look in her eyes or just the way she spoke that calmed him. She was the first person he didn’t want to hurt. He wanted to protect her and if she was telling him the truth then perhaps he could get out of this hell.

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