🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: This... fried my brain cells. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to WRITE... I’m not sure if any of this flows properly but it’s 5AM right now, I am tired, I am jetlagged, I’ve forgotten how to speak English, but this is the best I can do and I guess that’s all that matters. Anyway, RIP Y/N you’re about to have a bad time. *megalovania intensifies* || W.C. 2.7K

prev // part 27 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

Despite the summer heat already dwindling as the cooler months start to settle in, the sun still shines strongly in Ilsan. Sweat drips down your back like a faucet, the shade of the trees doing little to protect you from the midday heat. Namjoon had offered to relocate to one of the small air-conditioned cafes just outside of the park, but you chose to bear the heat instead, more interested in enjoying the packed lunch his mother had prepared for the two of you and observe the people milling about.

“Your mom is a cooking goddess,” you say with a large grin, moaning unabashedly as you chowed down on her homemade kimchi. Completely immersed in the pleasure that is Mrs. Kim’s food, you forget all semblance of dignity as you make it your goal to get all the food into your body as quickly as you can. “God, her food is so fucking good. How can you even bear leaving home?”

Namjoon chuckles, eating at a significantly more humane and dignified pace. “Believe me, it was hard choosing to study in Seoul for university, but it was a sacrifice I had to make. I’m just lucky that I live relatively close, so I can visit them every once in a while.”

“Then you oughta invite me over again some time. The dinner last night? I dreamt about nothing but her galbitang,” you say with bits of food still in your mouth, but Namjoon doesn’t seem all that phased. He’s gotten used to it, or so you hope. Habits die hard when you’ve been stuck with animals (read: boys) as friends for the last ten years.

“You can come over anytime. Though I’m not sure if you would want to, since then you’ll have to keep pretending to be my girlfriend if we do…” Namjoon trails off, his gaze lowering back to his food. His lips purse, brow crumpling in that way you’ve come to realize was he was overthinking again. “N-not that you’d have to. Pretend to be my girlfriend, that is. I can p-probably just bring home some packed lunches to Seoul whenever I come over, or something then you could—“

“Namjoon,” you call out to him, snapping him out from his rambling. You place your container of food down on the grass, raising your hands up as if in surrender. Confused, Namjoon is about to ask what you’re doing before you promptly smack him (gently), grabbing his cheeks and squeezing them together until he looks like a cute (and incredibly bemused) pufferfish.

“Huwah?” Namjoon tries to speak, but your grip on his face prevents him from moving even an inch. “Y/N?”

“Namjoon, I know we’re fake dating and all and I did agree to go with you to see your parents just this one time, but is it that hard to get it through that thick skull of yours?”  you say, eyes boring into his as you try to communicate your feelings. After a few moments of staring, you sigh tiredly when the look of confusion refuses to leave his face, his eyebrows raised in both astonishment and uncertainty. This fucking idiot, you think tiredly to yourself, but it’s hard to stay annoyed at him, not when he looks so cute with his cheeks squished between your hands.

You continue, “Aren’t we friends? Doesn’t that mean I would do anything for you, even if that means pretending to be your fake girlfriend as many times as I have to?”

Realization finally dawns on Namjoon’s face, but it is quickly replaced by sheepishness. “Oh, I guesh sho…” he says dejectedly. “Showwy.”

“Good. Now stop being so insecure!” you huff, pinching his cheek for good measure before you release him. He rubs his jaw gingerly, pouting like a child who had just been scolded.

“Okay, I promise… Sorry,” he repeats, rubbing his neck in shame.

But even then… you aren’t satisfied. Not until he can really get over his insecurity, but you suppose this is going to have to suffice for now. You can tell that Namjoon still has some ongoing conflict happening inside of him that he doesn’t seem willing to share with you as of now. You desperately want to pry, but you know more than anyone how frustrating it can be when someone tries a little too hard to help you, even if getting into right up in your business comes from a place with good intentions. He deserves to set his own pace, and you are more than willing to be patient with him (most of the time, at least. Some pinching and prodding may be useful along the way.)

“I’m not gonna leave you, you know? You’re stuck with me for life unfortunately, so you’re going to have to deal with me for the rest of yours. That was my only condition when I agreed to be your fake girlfriend, remember?” you say, giggling lightly at his dumbfounded expression. “Unless you’re tired of me already? I can always leave,” you tease.

“No!” Namjoon exclaims suddenly, nearly slapping himself in the face when he brings his hand to his mouth. A few families also eating at the park look at the two of you in alarm, but Namjoon can only bow to them apologetically. When he turns back to you, his cheeks are reddened slightly, though that could also be from being under the sun for so long. He scratches his nose: another nervous tick of his. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scream like that. I just… No, I’m not tired of you. I don’t think that’s even possible. You’re one of the greatest people I know and I like hanging out with you.”

“I…” You’re shocked by his sudden proclamation, stuttering as you try to formulate a response. You cough in embarrassment, shifting your gaze elsewhere, anywhere, away from Namjoon’s earnest expression. It’s a complete 360 from the shy schoolboy persona he had just moments ago. “Thank you… I guess? I’m just… Wow, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Switch modes so quickly like that? One moment you’re a bumbling buffoon and then the next second you’re saying sweet shit like it’s nothing!” You huff, hoping that your own cheeks aren’t heating up. “Seriously. Are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Namjoon lets out a short guffaw; the sound familiar to you as the one that he makes when he doesn’t know what to say. You don’t know how or when you had gotten so adept at differentiating his multiple ticks, but it makes you feel… special, for lack of a better word. You wonder if he notices things about you, too.

“I think I would be the first to know if I had a girlfriend. I suppose you’re the closest thing I have,” Namjoon says. When you look back at him, you can see that he’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, at least my parents think you’re the real deal. You were really good last night, by the way. My mom wouldn’t stop gushing about you when you went to bed.”

“Oh God, you guys talked about me when I went to bed?” You gasp in horror, worst-case scenarios flying through your head even though realistically, you know you had been perfectly normal during the entire evening. You had even practiced in front of the mirror the week before, rehearsing the lines you’d have to say should his parents ask the usual relationship questions. You memorized the story the two of you came up with: how the two of you had met, how you’d gotten together, how long you’d been dating… It was all so ingrained in your brain that it almost felt real, sometimes.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, poking you lightly on the nose. “No, it was nothing bad. You were perfect, like always. I doubt my parents could ever hate you even if they tried. You were wonderful.”

You nod slowly, still slightly unconvinced. “Okay… If you say so. I just don’t want to mess things up for you, you know?”

Namjoon slings an arm around your waist, inadvertently causing you to scoot closer to him until you could comfortably lay your head on his shoulder. You tilt your head upwards, your breath hitching when you realize how close your faces were to each other.

“I suppose we’re both dummies then, huh? I know this is hypocritical of me to say, but don’t be so insecure, okay? We got this. We’re fine.” Namjoon’s voice dips into a whisper, his forehead nearly touching yours. When he’s close like this, you can smell the kimchi in his breath; not an unpleasant scent by any means, but you do wonder if he’d taste good if you’d leaned in right now and kissed him—

“Y/N, you have rice on your chin,” Namjoon interrupts your train of thought, catching you off guard. You yelp, sitting straight up and separating from him like you had been shocked. Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, as he seems more intent on wiping away the stray rice grains than anything else. When he flicks them away, he smiles at you endearingly, his dimples on display for your mortal eyes.

“Um,” you stammer, rubbing your chin belatedly. “T-thanks…”

“Y/N, are you okay? You’re getting kind of red. Maybe we should head back? We’ve been under the sun for a while.” He grabs his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it as he fumbles with it before he finally manages to take a look at the time. “Oh, damn. It’s already almost 4. We better head out if you want to go look around the shopping district,” he says, packing up his mom’s containers. “Do you want to finish your food?”

You still had a bit of food left, but your appetite had strangely disappeared. So instead, you help him pack up, ready to get out of there and get your mind off of weird things. This is fine, you’re just being weird because of the bad week you had. Let’s try to relax, you remind yourself, but even you think your words sound weak.

Disgruntled and shaky, you trail after Namjoon in silence, content to just listen to him explain certain landmarks to you as you walk towards the nearby shopping street.

“I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but if we have time, we could probably visit my old high school on our way back. There’s a small park near it where I used to hide whenever I didn’t want to go home,” Namjoon says, chuckling at the memory. “My life used to be a constant cycle of going to school and coming home to study some more, so my mom would throw an absolute fit whenever I came home late, but she could never figure out where my hiding spot was.”

You snort, smiling at the thought of a rebellious Namjoon. It’s hard to imagine, especially with how hardworking he is with all his side projects that you’ve caught glimpses of when he had shown you his workshop. “Are you sure you want to show me your spot? What if I tell your mom?”

Namjoon laughs, eyes crinkling from the sheer force of it. The sight of him laughing causes you to pause for a moment, caught off guard by how… good he looks, when he looks so honest, so vulnerable. Namjoon smiles a lot, but you’ve never seen him this cheery, like the sun had come down to earth for the day. You like it a lot; you want to be able to make him express himself honestly like that all the time.

“If you tell my mom, then she’ll know for sure that you’re the one for me,” he jokes, the remnants of his joy still present in his eyes. He winks cheekily at you, making the tips of your ears redden ever so slightly. “There are many nooks and crannies I’d love to show you around Ilsan, but we only have a weekend here, unfortunately. If you could stay another day, I could probably show you around more.”

“I mean… I could, if you want me to,” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. You inhale sharply, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes popping out when you realize what you had said.

“I just! I don’t mean to intrude, of course—“

“Y-you don’t have to stay! It was just wishful thinking, of course—“

You both speak at the same time, talking over the other as you both try to explain yourselves. You both stop speaking simultaneously as well, causing the two of you to burst into laughter. You’re doubled over, giggling as tears of mirth slide down your cheeks at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“God, why are we so awkward together? I thought I was bad, but I guess pairing two socially inept losers really has doubled our power, huh?” you say.

“I know. You’d think we only just met yesterday or something.” Namjoon scratches his nose bashfully, but the same honest smile is still on his face. “But if what you said was true, then… I’d love to have you around for another day, if you want to stay? Like I said, I love hanging out with you. This is honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long while,” he says shyly. He coughs into his fist, pupils shaking as he stares resolutely at your chin.

“Me… me too. I’m having a lot of fun too,” you admit, your cheeks heating up involuntarily. You both turn to look away, embarrassed by each other’s sudden confession. What is going on with me today? you wonder idly, forcing your rapidly beating heart to calm.

“Er, well. We’re almost at the shopping district,” Namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to wave off the suddenly awkward atmosphere. He points ahead, where you can see rows of shops and booths of all shapes and sizes, selling anything and everything you can imagine. “You’re the guest here, so you choose. What shop do you want to head to first?”

“That reminds me. Jimin had asked me to buy this skin product from some store around here. Let me check the brand; he texted me the photo before we left,” you say, rummaging for your phone in your bag. Admittedly, you haven’t been using your phone all day asides from taking and posting the occasional photo, keeping it on silent and do not disturb to stop unwanted text messages from disturbing your time with Namjoon. You know you had a few messages from your group chat that you’ve left to read for later, but it’s only now that you realize that you had another message waiting from a person you would rather not speak to at all.

“Oh geez, what does that whore want?” You sigh, going against your better judgment and opening it anyway. “I swear, if Seokjin is using me as a booty call now of all times, I’m going to rip his ass in two the next time I—“

“Y/N? You okay?” Namjoon asks when he notices you have suddenly stopped speaking. He had been walking continuously, assuming that you were following behind him only to find that you were frozen in place a few steps away, staring holes into your phone screen. He walks over back to you, concern flickering in his eyes when he approaches you. “Hey, what’s up? Did you get an important text or something?”

“No, it’s nothing important. It’s…” You sigh, not knowing what to say. Your lips begin to wobble as your senses are assaulted by confusion, pain, and heartache all at once—all because of a single text message. Your eyes start to well up, but you blink them away. You’re quick to wave off Namjoon’s slow growing panic at your sorry state, not wanting to ruin his day with your stupid emotional breakdown.

“Y/N. Who texted you? What is it? You can tell me, I promise I won’t judge you,” he whispers kindly, taking your free hand in his own. He rubs comforting circles into your palm, his brow scrunched up in worry as he watches you fight to keep your tears at bay. “Y/N?”

You take a shuddering breath.

━━━━━━━━ all the different shades of orange ; hinata shōyō

summary — whoever said that hinata shōyō is a ball of sunshine is a liar

word count — 3k

genre — imagine ; kinda enemies to lover, fluff

warning(s) — major spoilers about spring interhigh for those of you who haven't read the manga, insults thrown around, kinda out of character hinata, cursing, not edited

a/n — okay but have y'all seen e2l hinata shōyō besides kagehina lmao because i haven't and thought it'd be interesting to try out. also wow i have never put so much effort into a work like this one (hopefully it reaches a lot of people and you can all find some joy in reading!)

❝ WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING NEXT TIME, YOU ROTTEN BELL PEPPER. ❞

Hate was a strong word but the flaring anger in your heart and overwhelming urge to run into a wall whenever your eyes landed on that tangerine said otherwise. It wasn't that you went out of your way to dislike someone that has everyone wrapped around their finger. It just so happened that you had no tolerance for bullshit, and Hinata Shōyō pissed you off in every way possible.

It started on the first day of high school.

Walking beside Minari, a friend from middle school, the two of you were eager to leave the building. The idea of grabbing steamed buns had unraveled itself in your mind, and what better way to enjoy food than by sharing?

"Are you going to try out for any clubs?" Your elbow bumped against hers as you two walked the slowly emptying hallway. "I think I saw the girls soccer team holding tryouts soon."

Minari shrugged, but you could already see the thoughts pinging in her mind. "I might if I can."

See, the two of you had almost reached the staircase when it happened. Minari's long hair covered her view from time to time, so you were used to looking out for her while chastising the girl about the usefulness of a hairband. But what you didn't expect as you pulled the girl aside just as a gaggle of guys rushed by was the full strength of a short orange-haired boy catching you off guard and nearly sending you tumbling down the flight of stairs.

"I'm sorry! I - I didn't see you there!" He shouted, his hand coming out to latch instinctively onto your school uniform before you could be thrown back far. "And on the first day too... I'm so sorry! Please accept my apology."

You stared at the short boy standing before you looking positively green with anxiety and guilt. Minari was already calming him down with mentions of accepting his apology, but all you could focus on was the pounding beat of your heart and the tingling feeling in your legs from your near-fatal experience.

"Watch where you're fucking going next time, you rotten bell pepper," you muttered before pushing his fingers off your now wrinkled white shirt.

You had walked away first, Minari in tow, but not before catching the shine of his name tag, 'Hinata Shōyō,' and the wide-eyed stare on his face that sent shivers down your back.

From that day forward, every flash of orange around the school seemed to be followed by a glare on your end and a roll of eyes on his.

"You're in the way, pumpkin head." Your words cut through the chattering hallway and sliced at Hinata who in turn threw you a pointed look, something that all the First Year students knew by now was reserved for only you. "I'm trying to get to the library, but somebody's walking too slow. Aren't you supposed to be on the volleyball team?"

Hinata scoffed, but stepped aside to let you through. Dirty looks were all he had in his armory apparently as time after time after sending an insult or two his way, he held his tongue. You liked to think it was because he didn't have the proper brain cells to form a response, but sometimes you wondered if you were being too much.

Up ahead, Minari waved at you to hurry before all the seats at the library were taken. Shaking yourself of your thoughts, you walked over to her. Unbeknownst to you, while you shouldered your bag, your wallet tipped over and fell out at a certain somebody's feet.

Hinata picked up your ratty wallet, noticing it on the floor, and went to call out to you before catching himself. What did he care? Still, unable to ignore it, he pocketed your belonging making note to give it back to you later. Right now, he had a game to worry about.

Somehow you had ended up at the Karasuno vs. Aoba Johsai game during the Interhigh Preliminaries. Minari had dragged you up to the stands as discreetly as possible after convincing you that she wasn't feeling up to study. Considering she had her eyes set on a certain 5'10 blueberry, you were foolish enough to think that she'd wanted to take you some place fun.

Now as the two of you stared down at the game happening eagerly, you let out a sigh upon noticing Hinata. As if your day couldn't have gotten worse after misplacing your wallet, you were displeased to find that he was looking right back up at you with the same wide-eyed stare he had when you two had first met.

Shivers ran down your back almost as if on cue, and you tore your gaze away from him fully ready to leave the gymnasium and trudge back home. But had you turned away, you would have missed the freakish oddball combination execute their quick attack.

"Holy shit," you breathed. "What the fuck was that?"

Minari smirked. "Tobio-kun is a great setter, isn't he? Or were you too focused on Mr. Bell Pepper to notice."

You shot her a frosty look, pushing down the stuttering emotion starting to rise in your chest that most definitely did not feel like anger. "As if."

The game continued for what seemed like days but turned out to be hours at most ending at a score of 1:2 in Aoba Johsai's favor.

Deafening silence overtook your ears. Minari was quick to leave the stands, mumbling something about consoling the fallen setter while your eyes searched for some semblance of sunshine in Hinata's sullen ones.

Spotting his sunken expression, you felt yourself regret the hatred that had sparked for him for just a moment. A fleeting moment that buried itself in your heart, planting a seedling of growing doubt.

"Minari, we have to catch the bus back!" You called out to your friend as you joined her on the gymnasium floor.

She glanced your way, halting the conversation she had began with her Tobio-kun. "Two minutes, and then we can go. Please?"

You nodded despite feeling discomfort crawling up your spine at being surrounded now by those you didn't know. You settled by the door, checking your phone mindlessly to pass the short time only looking up when an outstretched hand came into view.

"You dropped this earlier." Hinata's words were short, sharp, and you were suddenly glad you had never been on the end of his scathing remarks. "On your way to the library," he continued.

"Oh," was all your malfunctioning mind could come up with as he took your open hand in his, placing your wallet gently in your palm. The warmth of his skin seemed pressed into your own even after he had started to stalk away.

Clearing your throat, you spoke before you could stop yourself. "You did well today. I - uh," you paused. What were you even saying? "I watched from the stands."

He offered you a soft smile, one that you realized could light the world aflame, before walking back to his awaiting team.

You placed your hand over your drumming heart, sedating the flustered feeling he had left behind with you, chanting in your mind over and over again that Hinata Shōyō was a menace and you had no plan to ever like him let alone fall for him.

But no one ever plans to fall in love.

The Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club seemed to practice non-stop funnily enough, rather motivated by their loss from months ago instead of despaired. Minari had become a regular face during practice as she cheered the boys on in an attempt to woo Kageyama still, and by fault, so had you.

"Y/N, Tangerine's on his way over here." Minari nudged you, stealing your attention from the workbook open in your lap.

You shrugged, trying to focus on anything other than your slowly rising heartbeat. "Why? Did the coach bench him for his subpar plays?"

"No, actually Tangerine wanted to give you something but he's currently reconsidering."

You looked up immediately, eyes narrowing upon noticing Hinata standing in front of you with a small smirk. "You're looking really fucking smug for a guy who still needs to work on his skills. Kageyama says you lack basic technique."

Hinata rolled his eyes at you. "You're being rude."

"It's because I don't like you," you answered smoothly. "So get back to practice before you lose any more volleyball brain cells."

He let out a small laugh. Turning away, for a moment you thought he'd actually leave as simple as that, but just before he took another step, he tossed something your way. It fell on top of your workbook, smacking against the thin pages, causing a couple of the boys to look your way while Hinata jogged back to the net.

Minari leaned in closer to you. "He got you—" She cocked her head in confusion. "A wallet?"

It was a deep shade of orange that almost made you laugh out in irony. Detailed with card slots and a latch with snapping buttons, the wallet was definitely an improvement from the one you had right now.

"That's sweet... right?" Minari questioned, watching your expression as you opened the wallet to reveal a note — scratchy handwriting on a scrap of notebook paper.

'thought your wallet looked ratty old. not in a mean way of course!!!!

— your favorite, Pumpkin Head Shōyō

ps. my sister picked out the color :p'

"Stupid fucking carrot," you whispered under your breath, feeling your cheeks grow warm at his message. "I don't need a new wallet."

Minari scoffed at your words, turning to face you completely and taking your hands in hers with seriousness. "Be honest with me." You stared at her blankly. "Be honest, and tell me if you actually hate Hinata as much as you say you do. Why don't you just drop the act? You two obviously like each other enough to be friends, so why keep this all up? Isn't it tiring?"

Her words echoed through the hallways of your mind minutes, hours, and days after. Sitting at your desk in school, on your walk home, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, they were as loud as life itself.

You thumbed the straps of your bag while waiting for the bus. The sun was slowly dropping from the sky, setting on the horizon leaving you in a thoughtful orange haze.

You two obviously like each other enough to be friends, so why keep this all up? Isn't it tiring?

The weeks following were conflicting and chaotic. Exam season settled on Karasuno High School jolting the students and staff into a cloud of stress.

You spent your spare time at the library, eyes boring into material that just wouldn't stick while a certain rotten bell pepper took his seat next to you.

"I have to pass my finals or Sugawara senpai is going to nail me to a wall," Hinata explained, spreading his notebooks out on the desk and bumping his elbow against yours in the process. "You do well in your classes, right? Do you — " He looked abash. "D - Do you mind helping me?"

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Looking back now, you suppose that's where your odd friendship began.

Days on end, the two of you would stay behind to cycle through the material slowly building a tolerance of each other much to everyone's surprise.

"Do you still hate me?" The question came one night, the weekend before his exams.

Hinata looked at you from where he sat on the swings, kicking his feet at the sandy grounds. The two of you were at the park, cooling off after a long study session.

Your eyes fell to the can of convenience store coffee in your hands. The slight of the passing breeze drilled his question further in your mind.

"No, I don't think so," came your answer, words wobbly and unsure despite the thrum of your heart beating loudly against your chest and the warmth in your cheeks.

Silence filled the space between you two before Hinata finally spoke up again.

"Then do you like me?"

Your body felt lit aflame, mind jumping immediately to the way he made you feel things you hadn't much before. "As a friend," you decided after a moment of flustered emotions. "We're friends, I guess."

Hinata nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I like you." He took a deep breath. "As more than a friend, but if you feel that way then I'll wait for you. We have time."

His confession became lost among the flurry of thoughts and colliding emotions raging on inside you. Before you could say anything in response, Hinata got to his feet, shooting you that now familiar smile of his and offering you his hand.

The new year overwhelmed your senses like a storm of rain after a drought. Refreshed after the break, you returned to school with a new sense of purpose amplified by the motivation the new year always brings.

Hinata's confession had remained in your mind, pushed to the back by celebration but still bugging you every so often. The apricot haired boy had showed up, throwing ping pong balls (of all things) at your window to catch your attention over the break asking if you wanted to go grab something sweet with him. You promptly responded with a rejection, only to find yourself walking with him ten minutes later.

"How was your break?" Minari asked, bundled in a jacket, scarf, and hat. She joined you at your side, catching you on your walk from the bus stop to school.

You shrugged, pulling your puffy jacket closer to you. "It was okay. You?"

She smiled. "Hung out with Tobio-kun. We went for hot chocolate, and he taught me how to set." Her eyes seemed almost dazzling at the memory, and you laughed, pushing her lightly away.

"You and your Tobio-kun are positively gross," you said. "Absolutely—"

Your words were halted at the feeling of warm fabric settling around your neck and a known face popping up beside you with a proud smile.

"Stay warm. You can give it back to me later," Hinata said before jogging away to catch up with a pair of Second Year boys ahead.

Your hand came up to the green scarf around your neck, failing to form comprehensive sentences. Heart thundering, you ignored the funny looks others sent your way. Glancing at Minari, you caught her slipping giggles.

"What happened to Hinata Shōyō being a rotten bell pepper?"

"Shut up."

Lending you his scarf when days seemed too cold was just the beginning of it all. Days turned into weeks turned into months of Hinata pining after you and you—though obvious to everyone else—trying to decipher your feelings for him.

"Hey, I missed you," Hinata said to you lightly after you had agreed to drop something off for Kageyama on Minari's behalf. Quickly realizing the meaning of his words, however, Hinata corrected himself. "I mean—um, as in I m - missed you earlier. Like... like I didn't catch you today, you know?"

You tilted your head at him with endearment, a small smile playing across your lips at the sight of his blushing face. "Yeah, don't worry. I got it, sweet potato."

His flustered expression dropped. "You think I'm sweet?"

Your eyes widened, stuttering to form a response and correct yourself out of this situation you had suddenly been thrusted in. Luckily, Kageyama came to your rescue before you could embarrass yourself.

"Hinata, boke, stop flirting with Y/N!" The tall blueberry haired boy towered over Hinata with a menacing glare and a scoff. Kageyama turned to you with a blank look you took for an apologetic expression.

Shaking your head profusely, you put your hands up in surrender. "Ah, no worries, Kageyama. I—uh, I have something for you from Minari. She has classroom duties today, so she couldn't come herself."

Kageyama nodded, taking the wrapped bento box that Minari had prepared for him from your outstretched hands. He mumbled words of thanks before stalking off while muttering under his breath a colorful range of insults at Hinata who in turn sent him a funny face.

The Spring Interhigh was coming up, and you were sure the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club was itching for redemption after what had happened last August. Deciding that you didn't want to interrupt their practice any further, you made move to leave only to stop at the feeling of a hand on your wrist.

Glancing back, you raised an eyebrow in surprise at Hinata's sudden action. "What are you—"

The tangerine boy had exchanged his lighthearted expression of just minutes ago with a look that you could only describe as properly motivated. "When we make it to Nationals, promise to give me a chance."

All around you, the gym seemed to fade until only Hinata was in your line of vision.

When we make it to Nationals, he had said, not if.

Unable to respond, you found yourself nodding because who were you to kid yourself at this point?

The Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club did, in fact, make it to Nationals, but unfortunately lost to Kamomedai High School in the quarter-final round while Hinata spent his time at the hospital.

Hooked up to an IV line and dressed in one of those flimsy hospital gowns, Hinata looked unusually weak laying down on the bed. The others had left not long after you had arrived though some took more convincing than others.

"Next time, you can keep your scarf to yourself," you said, cutting the silence short with a lighthearted remark.

Hinata smiled weakly at that, his hand coming to rest atop your folded ones on your lap. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

You shook your head. "Obviously, you can't take care of yourself." Slipping your hands from under his, you took the hand warmers out of your pockets and placed one in each of his hands. "Luckily, you got me."

His face lit up. "Oh, do I now?"

Warmth spread through your body as you looked away from his hopeful gaze. "Well, you did make it to Nationals."

Week 7 of Clown Theories and Analysis

S03E07 - Beautiful Monster

So I’m feeling really good about the future of Killing Eve with Laura Neal running the show for season 4. With 3x03 and now 3x07, she really captures the essence of Killing Eve and I’ve missed that this season. We are definitely in good hands as long as we get through the finale without any bullshit which I am super nervous about!

Inappropriate touching - So apparently someone didn’t get the memo when I said that it’s illegal to keep making V cry. 

I wonder what effect it’s having on V’s mind for people to keep telling her that she’s nothing but darkness and chaos. She knows she isn’t but I want to know how it’s weighing on her mentally. Obviously she’s bothered and upset by it but I want her to talk about it, it’s be interesting to see what she would say. I hope this gives opportunity for her to talk about it to Eve next episode. 

It’s definitely having a huge effect on her actions, it’s giving her the drive to keep pushing to be the person that she wants to be and not who everyone says she is. She’s truly alone right now (especially since Eve, the only person who truly sees her, isn’t around) so she’s developing a better sense of self and will continue defy what everyone thinks of her. 

Also I love the “God, you’re sexy” after Helene tells her that she could kill her. That’s basically the whole KE fandom when it comes to Villanelle. 

Opening titles - Why? What’s with the inconsistency with the opening title scene?

Standard parents crap - If Konstantin dies this season, which I still think may happen despite the false alarm this episode, does that mean that this is the last we see of Irina? If he dies, that means she’s stuck there, right? I don’t see her mother coming to get her up any time soon. 

I think I liked Irina better in season 1, she’s kind of annoying this season? Whiny, even. Which makes sense though, her father is a piece of shit (I still love him though) and she doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with her mother so I can definitely see why she’s acting out and so defiant. I just find it annoying, probably because I already see enough of it with Geraldine. Come to think of it, Konstantin and Carolyn seem to have a lot of parallels like V and Eve. Both have whiny, problematic children, both are under a lot of stress, both feel like the walls are closing in on them. This season is definitely building up to something big happening for Carolyn and Konstantin as well as Eve and V. Especially with the promo videos and pics of each pair before the season premiered. 

It’s a rule - Eve is such a chaotic bisexual dumbass and I love it. Villanelle definitely has custody of the one shared brain cell during this scene because Eve is back full-force with her bullshit and pursuing Villanelle. And I am all 👏🏽 here 👏🏽 for 👏🏽 it 👏🏽

I really like the Bitter Pill team, Suzanne better not come for them next episode.

Can we talk about how Eve was about to use Niko’s pitchfork incident as a way to get the bakery to give her info on Villanelle? She was so casual about it like it didn’t just happen the other day and killed all her hope for their marriage. She really does have tunnel vision when it comes to V, literally nothing else matters. Which is also shown in her pressuring Bear with her blatant disregard for the law lol

Russia has vegans now - Omfg, V’s accent at the front desk and during the golf scene is everything 😩

Dasha didn’t have to come at V like that. V snapped back though but I really need people to stop coming for V’s feelings like she has none. I wonder if Dasha telling V that she’s going to die with her hand held while V dies alone is hinting towards V finding that person in Eve instead. Ah shit, as I wrote that, I had a thought. What if V does die (soon) while with Eve and in her last moments Eve is holding her hand. I can’t unthink that now and I’m pissed. 

I do like filet mignon - So for a second, I actually thought that maybe Geraldine was spying on Konstantin because she suspected that he killed Kenny but then she just got back on her whiny bullshit and idk anymore. All I know is that she’s gotta go. 

Hey. Hey! HEEYYY! - I loved this scene, the comedy in this show is gold. This is one of the things that has been lacking this season and it definitely brought me back to s1 and s2 in terms of humor. 

Has V really lost it when it comes to killing? That’s the big question here. Obviously her plan from the beginning was to get away and escape with Konstantin hence her saying that she called him hours ago when he arrived. So that must mean that she never actually intended on finishing the job. Which she didn’t, of course. But I don’t think it’s because she can’t, I think it’s more that she doesn’t want to. I think, if pushed into it, she can and will still kill someone. Like if her life was in danger or to save someone she cared about like Eve or even Konstantin. But outside of that, it seems like she’s lost the drive to continue killing as she did before. I think that this has been building up since the beginning of the season and not just after 3x05. You can even go as far back as Rome, I think. That’s when she was first (first time we see) denied of being able to feel or be normal. 

“I love you.”

“You don’t understand what that is.”

She was rejected and made to feel less than human. And that definitely had a lasting effect on Villanelle. Ever since V really started to feel more, I think that’s when her drive and excitement for killing died down. There are other things that make her feel alive now. She doesn’t look into her victim’s eyes and watch the life drain from them anymore like she did in seasons 1 and 2. You don’t see that excited, sinister gleam in her eyes when it comes to completing a job. The jobs that she’s had in season 3 aren’t what mattered anymore, it was her promotion. It was the prospect of gaining power and possibly some semblance of freedom.  But now that that’s not what she had hoped for, the drive is gone. And she’s never been one to never been one to kill meaninglessly, whether she enjoyed killing or not. So I don’t think she’s lost the ability to kill, I think that she just doesn’t want to. She wants to be normal and this is her step in that direction. 

Also, that was a whole lotta ass crack in this scene. 

Like Stalin - I like how the only description Eve needed was “a pretty girl with her mom” and she was pretty much like “Yup, Villanelle is hot, must be her, get the fuck out”. 

Dark Eve is rising!! What a contrast, Eve is becoming darker while Villanelle is trying to distance herself from her darkness. They’ve both been through a lot of shit this season which seems to have pulled Eve and V in opposite directions in terms of how it’s affected them. 

You know that excited, sinister look I was saying V used to have? Eve has the same one here. She was staring into Dasha’s eyes just like V used to do when killing her victims. I wonder how this will impact (if it does) their chemistry when Eve and V finally reconnect again. Will it bring them closer together? Or will they be at an impasse?

Another prick to shit? - So the train scene ended up being a false alarm but I don’t think that Konstantin is in the clear yet, especially with Dasha being in the hospital with him and her ties to the Twelve. 

I wonder what effects his death would have on Villanelle. Of course, she doesn’t want him to die but you see her come to the realization that he actually might in this scene and she didn’t seem too torn up about it. Maybe it was because of the urgency of their situation so she didn’t have time to fully process it but I do wonder how that’ll affect her going forward if he does die. 

Omfg the wave though. I had so many feelings about this scene. Like I was bummed because Eve was sooo close but like she literally ran alongside the train like that’s some gay shit right there. And despite the situation, you see V smile and seem genuinely happy to see her. I think Eve was the last person she expected to see or hear from and with everything that’s happened to V since her last encounter with Eve, her obsession for her slipped to the back of her mind until this scene. Clearly Eve is still thinking about V so I think that’s the spark that puts V right back on that same path towards Eve. 

Konstantin is literally dying and all these two idiots can think about is each other 😂

Emotional iceberg - Carolyn is definitely starting to feel the pressure after Mo’s death (RIP). Similar to Konstantin, Carolyn is now beginning to stress about whether or not she’s next. Her tantrum definitely wasn’t just for show. I really do love the different sides we’re seeing of Carolyn this season, she’s no longer the calm and collected Carolyn we grew accustomed to in seasons 1 and 2.

I’m not gonna lie, I lowkey thought Carolyn was gonna snap and kill Geraldine. Wouldn’t even blame her. If nothing significant happens with Geraldine next episode, then her only purpose this season was kissing Konstantin which I could have gone without and eliciting an emotional response from Carolyn which could have been done a bunch of other ways. 

It’s not good for both of us - Villanelle’s voice is so sexy omg. I need to know the entire conversation they had.

Did V really mean what she said? They’ve definitely had their ups and downs (putting that lightly lol) and V hasn’t really given much thought to Eve lately (from what we’ve seen) so it’s possible. But then we do see both of them in multiple scenes together for the finale so who really knows? It could be setting up for them deciding to go separate ways at the end of the season (although I really hope not). From all of the interviews that have come out, we know that the finale will be different from the first two which leaves four options that I’ve thought of for the finale: 

1. They mutually agree to stop pursuing each other and go their separate ways

2. They team up and run away together

3. One of them dies (although I think this is the least likely, it would hurt the fanbase)

4. Konstantin dies, Villanelle saves Irina and runs away with her, either with or without Eve

I want to say that the most likely option is 2 because if they separate (option 1) then that kind of leaves them starting season 4 the same way they’ve started every season so far. Separated and then coming together somewhere in the middle of the season. The show is about them, it’s about their obsession for each other so they would have to come back together if they separated. Which is just recycled throughout each season so I would hope they wouldn’t do that. 

However, I’m a little apprehensive about them running away together. It’s been said that the finale will go a completely different route from what we’re expecting and we’ve been expecting them to run away together since season 2 so I have a feeling they won’t go that route. 

Option 3 is the main cause of my anxiety for the finale. I don’t see why they would post so many promos of Eve and Villanelle together with “Love is worth the wait” and all the “you really see them come together this season in a way we haven’t seen before” if they were just going to kill one of them or separate them though. Especially since they’ve only met one and a half times (I’m counting the wave and the phone call as a half). 

What do you guys think? What other ways do you see the season ending other than these three?

OVERALL - I really loved this episode, definitely one of the best from season 3. I definitely look forward to seeing more of Laura Neal’s work during season 4. I can’t believe these 8 weeks are already coming to an end. I love and hate the fact that we likely have to wait 2 years for season 4. I like it because it means the show won’t end (if season 4 is the last) next year, and then hate it for obvious reasons. I will definitely be reading and writing lots of fanfics to fill this Killing Eve hole after next week!

Twin Snowflakes pt17: Alone time

Eliza:I can’t believe your recklessness sometimes.

Valerie:I wasn’t going to actually fight her.

Eliza:You were seconds away from performing a suplex.

Valerie:Pfft, not like it would’ve worked.

Eliza:Not even disputing it huh? Need I remind you of your position in this school? Many students see you as a positive role model; especially the sports team. The upperclassmen included. You set an example for others so lead them well.

Valerie:I’m not as good or enjoy rubbing elbows with people as you. Semblance or not, it’s not like I’m the kind of person who starts a conversation.

Eliza:(Shooting your mouth off at someone is starting a conversation. Team speeches are-) Ugh, be that as it may, looking good by doing good is all I ask of you. It increases morale

Valerie:Oh yeah? Then why record the match yesterday?

Eliza turned her head and looked at Val. The athlete’s .eyes held a glimmer of agitation and anxiousness.

Eliza:Oh I see now, so that’s why you’re more aggressive than usual. Getting caught by Nicholas must be so irritating for the girl who’s supposed to be better than him; another check box on the list of ways he makes your life easier.

Valerie:Don’t talk like you know me.

Eliza:I know pride and jealousy when I see it. Or maybe, it’s something else entirely? If you’re letting my little comment from the other day bother you then I suggest you dismiss it. As for the video, originally I was going to use it to study the three of you for the tournament.

Valerie:WHAT!?

Eliza:It’s no different than a sports team watching the other team’s previous games. Then another thought occurred, this school would get a lot of traction if three sophomores took down such a complex piece of tech. It’s bound to spook some people who also plan on joining the tournament.

Valerie:You used us as a scare tactic? That’s...underhanded and yet, completely fair?

Eliza:Anything to ensure I remain in the top three. I will not spend time dealing with riff raff when my two biggest threats share the same bus as me. Consider that video an appreciation of all your skills, and a reminder of the eyes on you. Don’t slip up.

Valerie:I never do. It would be pretty interesting to see you beat Nick. I look forward to your challenge.

Eliza:You sound like Nick isn’t a threat.

Valerie:He isn’t. Granted his swordplay has gotten better and he has that new trick, but I haven’t been slacking off either. I’ve kicked his butt all my life and I’m sure I can do it again.

Her eyes told a different story. Eliza could tell that through all that confidence, the smallest glimmer of doubt had shown itself. She made sure to take note of it.

Eliza:Famous last words. The idea of Nick winning is a world that could exist; experience in loss is vaster than in victory.

Valerie:*grits teeth* Can we stop talking about Nick for onc-

“Val?” Called out the boy in question. The two girls turned around to see the boy walking over in their school’s simple white and gray P.E. uniform. He wasn’t sweaty like Valerie, but something seemed a little...off.

Eliza:Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Nick:Says the girl in pigtails. Might as well call them horns. Anyways hey Val, didn’t know you were at school today. Had me a little worried this morning.

Valerie:Yeah well...I slept a little late.

Nick:But...you’re in your P.E. clothes. Summer has the class as you so-

Valerie:I wasn’t terribly late. Just enough to miss homeroom.

Nick:Ah. Getting up was pretty rough for me this morning too. That Paladin took everything out of me! My body felt like lead. How are you holding up?

Valerie:I’m fine…

Nick:Really? That hit looked really-

Valerie:I said I’m fine, Nick! Stop worrying about me!

If the halls were crowded then that would’ve drawn a crowd. Instead her brash words echoed, making its own form of weird tension. Eliza took that as her queue to leave, while Nick stood there a bit spooked. Even Valerie was shocked at her tone.

Valerie:Sorry, I uh, yelling was an accident.

Nick:It’s, it’s okay. Hey you umm, are you mad at me by any chance? I only ask since Summer sorta did what you...just did; if I did something wrong-

Valerie:You didn’t. (Like usual) Can you give me a bit of space though? I’d like to have a bit more time to myself.

She hadn’t realized it, but Valerie just snitched on herself. Nick kept a neutral face, ‘overslept huh?’ The thought lingering a bit before giving a small smile. Suddenly he felt a little awkward, randomly swaying and folding his arms as if to shake off the feeling.

Nick:Alright, if that’s what you need. Still on to study tomorrow or…?

Valerie:I think I got it covered.

Nick:Cool, cool...see you around then I guess? Or not, I don’t know. I should head back now. Harriet must notice how long I’ve been taking by now, so, yeah… *stepping away*

Valerie:...Nick?

Nick:What’s up?

Valerie:Your face, it’s a bit pale. Get some rest okay? Seriously.

At least he knew she still cared. He gave her a thumbs up and started walking away again, but then whipped back around before she was out of sight.

Nick:Hey one more thing! I thought you should know Veronica is here so please, don’t beat each other up in the halls, rooms, or anywhere really. No touching at all would be nice.

Valerie:I already bumped into her.

Nick:Really? I don’t see bruises.

Valerie:Shut up, we didn’t fight. I could tell she was looking for one, or an excuse to let off steam.

Nick:What does that mean?

Valerie:She was looking much like herself. That annoyingly cocky attitude was a bit more...catty, for a lack of a better word. Atlas air must be disagreeing with her or something.

Nick:Yeah….or something…

xxxx

Veronica hadn’t moved. The young designer found herself still leaning up against the lockers, concentrating immensely. Her skull felt like it was under a jackhammer while her heartbeat sped up like a hummingbird. God she was so hungry, and the cafeteria scent…

‘In and out Veronica. Just keep your breathing in and out’ she told herself constantly. ‘You’re halfway through the day. You can do this…’

Bright side about this predicament was it seemed no one wanted to test her. She imagined that her entire attitude must seem pretty scary right about now. Good.

Her attempt to stay out of further trouble was unfortunately short lived when the scent of fresh sweat and body spray invaded her nostrils. That was a smell in any school, one that always ment the arrival of her least favorite kind of person.

Two sets of footsteps steadily got closer until they stopped right in front of her. Veronica looked up to see two boys in blue letterman jackets stand before her. One boy was tannish and had a well kept brown crew cut, his height towering over her but his build seemed similar to Nick. His eyes a shade of hazel that made the cocky grin on his face that was more punchable.

The other boy was taller, at least 6’3 and built like a wall. Veronica couldn’t fathom the amount of protein shrinks he might drink. He was pale compared to the first one and had orangey brown hair that was a crew cut that had less taken off on the sides and more grown out. His eyes were a dark green and though he didn’t look as cocky, his presence was enough for Veronica to know he thought that he was the big man on campus.

The first jacket said ‘Diabhalta’ while the second read.‘Winchester.’ That name was familiar from earlier. Nick had mentioned it when speaking to Eliza.

Whoever they were, Veronica wasn’t in the mood for this shit. It’s like she was a beacon for annoying jocks.

Veronica:May I help you, or are you just going to keep staring like a dead fish?

Diabhalta: Hey hey, take it easier there mittens. Just doing a little thinking, wondering if it would be a cat call if you gave me your number. That sort of thing.

Winchester:Laying it on a little thick there, Darren.

Darren:Oh I’m just trying to break the ice Maxie. A little humor to make that pretty face smile.

Veronica:If this is you breaking the ice then no wonder Atlas is so cold. Not interested, now scram.

Max:Sweetheart, curve the attitude. Obviously you’re new here but FYI, underclassmen show more respect.

Veronica:You’re not respecting my space.

Max:You’re not respecting our locker space.

Okay, this time she was in the jocks territory and not purposely seeked out. Maybe her luck was just bad? Veronica sidestepped out of the way and decided to leave. While Max opened his locker.

Veronica:My bad…

Max:Yeah it is.

Darren:Hey hey hey, hold on second here. “My bad” is a pretty half assed apology. Don’t you wanna try something a little more...hospitable? Maybe a cute little curtsy or something? No, well the view of you leaving is pretty nice so I shouldn’t complain.

Veronica: Fuck. Off.

Darren:Ooo kitten has claws.

He starts to follow behind her.

Max: ‘I swear he’s going to end up in prison’ Stop skirt chasing the literal puss and get your shit man.

Darren:I’m just trying to get to know the lady a little. Is that so bad?

Veronica:Darren was it? Listen to your friend and buzz off before you get actual claws, got it?

Darren:Ooo how scrappy. I don’t mind a little pain. That’s why I win medals for this place. Isn’t that right Maxie?

Max:If you need my help to get her attention then it’s probably a sign you’re trying too hard.

Veronica: ‘At least that one has a few brain cells”

Max:Besides, shouldn’t you aim for a girl that’s more… appealing?

That caught her attention. Turning around would’ve been reckless. There was no need to entertain these two, yet she couldn’t help herself.

Veronica: ‘Fuck this guy’ Was that a comment on my looks, or my features?

Max:Can’t say, all I know is what I see, and what I see is oh so not worth any time or effort. Why Darren is giving you the time of day,I’ll never understand.

Darren:Dude!

Veronica:Hmph, whatever. I should expect as much from you. At least you’re more charming than your father.

Max:Tsk, What did you-

Veronica:Goodbye. *walks away*

Darren:Hey! You can’t just disrespect him like that! Are you even listen- hey!

Veronica:Maybe if you learned to leave a girl alone then-

Her words got caught in her throat. Veronica thought they had gotten the message. That they wouldn’t bother her anymore and silently curse her names like others; the pain that ran through her tail said otherwise.

Veronica could start to feel her blood start to boil as she turned back around to see, to feel Darren gripping her tail with his disgusting hands. Max had closed his locker but didn’t look confrontational. No, he looked alarmed.

“Darren I think you overstepped.” He put his things down.

“I overstepped!? She’s the one running her mouth and mentioning your family like she knows anything.”

Veronica’s eyes matched that of a feline and her barely came out above a whisper. “You have three seconds to let go…”

Unfazed, he tightened his grip. “Or wha-”

Time was up. Darren couldn’t even finish the word before he felt the back of Veronica’s fist make a clean contact with the right side of his face, knocking spit and his body into the lockers.

“Darren!”

The boy was too dazed to respond or react to the feeling of the smaller girl tackling him to the ground as Veronica began to wail on him. Repeatedly throwing punch after punch in a fit of anger. Until Darren headbutted her off.

Now he was pissed. He got up and threw a punch that was quickly stopped by Max. “What the hell man!”

“That doesn’t end well for you!”

“It won’t for her either!”

Veronica ran back at him without thinking and was kicked right in the stomach, falling backwards for only a second before charging again.

Max tugged Darren behind him to act as a buffer and stiff armed Veronica. The guy really was a wall, but that meant nothing to Veronica. Her body slipped right through him and came out the other side to tackle the idiot who grabbed her tail.

This time they both hit the ground and started to exchange blows.

She was practically seeing red, blacking out from rage, adrenaline, pain, hunger; somewhere along the line she could taste a little iron in her mouth and pain across her face. Must’ve gotten hit, not like she cared, sound seemed distorted but she could still feel everything. Especially her knuckles that were getting tender, and the constant hands of Max trying to pull her off most likely.

She had tried to be patient. Tried to stay calm, tried to walk away, but she simply couldn’t. All she could do was keep swinging and kicking. Until….

“Get a grip Vee!”

The red stopped, her mind clearing enough to focus on control. Eventually coming to and seeing what had happened. Her arms had been secured in a tight bear hug. Darren was still in front of her with bruises that were already healing and a scowl on his that screamed “I’ll end you.”

To his right was Max who was also a bit hyped on adrenaline, his hair messed up and also thoroughly pissed. But something was off. Who was restraining-

A pit formed in Veronica's stomach as she looked to the ground to see gravity glyphs holding them all in place. She turned around to see messy familiar hair slicked back and shocked eyes. Nick had showed up, as well as a few other faculty from the sound of it.

The boy was out of breath and had a dark bruise around the bridge of his nose as he continued holding her.

“N...Nick?” Her voice trembled. “When did you-”

“We gotta move.” He said anxiously as he took her by the wrist and ran out towards the exit.

Darren wasn’t amused. “That son of-Nicholas! You think we’re done here!”

“Shut up man! We don’t need this kinda shit right now.” Max growled with an intense amount of bass. The glyphs vanished and he grabbed Darren as he ran off as well. Quickly pushing his friend out the door. “Go cool off and then come back. I’ll handle the adults”

“You can’t be seri-”

“Do you want to get beat up by three different people today!? Take a fucking walk”

Darren grit his teeth before spitting a mixture of spit and blood on the ground before listening to his friends instructions. Max let out an annoyed sigh before regaining his stoic expression and stood by the door as faculty and students started gathering.

xxxx

Veronica messes up, she messed up big time. It was one thing to make trouble for herself but it creating it for others wasn’t a thing she enjoyed. All she had to do was keep calm, walk away, and survive a day at school. Not be led through the back streets of Atlas by Nicholas of all people.

He hadn’t said a word to her but she hadn’t spoken either. The feeling of her blood rushing and the whirlpool of her instincts still washed over her like a sea of flames that did its best to simmer down. Nick must’ve been furious, he had a right to be. Veronica said she was fine when she wasn’t. Now this has happened. Veronica wanted nothing more than to scream at herself right now. How could she let this happen?

She continued to stare at the hand that held her wrist through an alley where Nick finally stopped and let go. Veronica wanted to say something but didn’t get the chance before Nick tossed a bag over his shoulder at her.

Veronica reacted just fast enough to catch it and was taken back by it. It was….jerky? Beef jerky at that. She looked to see him staring at her with concern. Veronica tried looking away but Nick tilted her back to stare into her animal like eyes. With her luck, he probably saw her fangs when she was screaming her head off earlier.

Nick: ‘So this is what I was supposed to look out for?’ You with me Vee?

Veronica:....

Nick:They sell those packs in the vending machines near the sports room. Taste isn’t that spectacular but I’m sure it’ll serve you better than me right now.

Veronica:....

Nick:Vee…?

Veronica:...Can you...turn around? I don’t want you to see me eat. Cover your ears too.

Nick:Uh, okay? *turns around* tap my shoulder when you're done I guess.

Veronica:Thanks…

Nick covered his ears and Veronica finally opened the extremely full bag. The aroma hit her like a truck and Veronica couldn’t help but let out a gulp the moment it did.

Nick clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, already feeling a little awkward after fifteen seconds. ‘Is she gonna eat all of that? The bag is a large size, people twice my size take a while to eat it.’ He was starting to regret making today's arm day in gym class. ‘Hopefully she just needs a few pieces of-’

The wind blew and the bag flew right by his head, completely empty and teared apart. The tap on his shoulder can immediately after. That...couldn’t have been the bag, no way. He turned around and couldn’t believe it, Veronica stood in front of him a little bit more composed than before. Her eyes were less intense, as well as her hair. Even Vee’s breathing was less erratic but she still wasn’t exactly calm either. The crumbs on her face didn’t help.

Nick caught himself staring a little too hard and tried to have a very even expression. Veronica was starting to look at him the way Summer looks at her scars. This was clearly a big deal to her. After all, this was all news to him.

Nick:Are you okay? Or you know...slightly better?

Veronica:Slightly better is a decent way of putting it, barely. My body hurts.

Nick:Well you probably have a few bruises, your lip and right hand is bleeding, and I might’ve tackled you a little hard once or twice whenever I arrived. I’ve seen explosive tempers but man.

Veronica:Did I...give you that bruise?

Nick:Consider it a team effort between the three of you. Serves me right for rushing in without thinking. Nothing a little aura can’t fix. Same goes for you I hope.

Veronica:I’ll be fine…

She walked towards him slowly and gently touched his nose. She did this to him. He might put blame on everybody but it was no doubt to spare her feelings. Veronica’s ears drooped down and she held back her tears. It was bad enough Nick saw her lose her cool, she wasn’t gonna let him see her tears.

Veronica:I’m sorry...really sorry. I’ve done nothing but lie, break promises, and caused you trouble. All on my first day too. Talk about pathetic. Now you’re hurt and going to be in trouble because of me.Frankly I...I don’t know why you aren’t yelling at right now. How can you tolerate me so much all the time? I wouldn’t be able to.

Nick:Well that’s easy, it’s not tolerating when you want to be around the person.

And just like that, Veronica was speechless.

Nick:Don’t get me wrong. Can’t say I’m okay with how today went or that I’m not disappointed that you couldn’t last the day; But you’ve always been a hothead. Today just explains why. Yang might’ve told me to keep an eye on you, out of love of course. So don’t be too upset with her okay? I wish I knew about this sooner. Pardon if I’m overstepping, but does this have anything to do with why you’re so reluctant to talk about Menagerie? Anytime I talk about visiting it’s always a no.

Veronica:It’s one of many reasons. Reasons I rather not get into, sorry.

Nick:That’s fair. It’s funny, we always talk about how we talk about everything but I guess something we can’t help but keep to ourselves. Did you think I’d hate you, or wouldn’t understand? Granted I’m definitely hazy on the specifics but I definitely don’t think any less of you. V-

Veronica:I like you…as in like, like you.

Blood rushed to both of their faces. Veronica didn’t make eye contact but she did take his hand and held it tight; it trembled ever so slightly.

Nick couldn’t tell if he was slightly under the weather like Valerie said or hearing the words aloud. Nick wasn’t dense like his father, but hearing a confession was still a crazy moment. Especially right now. A boy in his gym clothes and a roughed up school girl, standing in a snowy alleyway after running out of school. Maybe he should’ve slept in today.

Veronica:It’s not like it’s been some kind of secret. I was never good at subtlety. When you're around me...I try so hard for you to only see the best of me, though it rarely happens. So I kept quiet, from plenty of people. Unless you really know about faunus then how could you know what goes on under the surface? You’re the last person I wanted to tell. I thought you’d look at me differently.

Nick:Do I look that shallow?.

Veronica:I couldn’t take the chance. Not when you’re the one, the only who really sees me outside of my parents.

He wasn’t entirely sure Veronica meant by that. See her how? In what way was he different from someone like his sister or Valerie? Was it okay to ask that right now? He decided against it. Being pushed away earlier made him worried about it happening again.

So instead he told her a simple truth.

Nick:It’s not like you’re Shiva. I’ve stared in the eyes as she threatened my life and I still hug Summer without a care in the world. On a scale from one to ten, what happened at school was a two. If you ever need something then I’m here Vee. I care about you, a lot. Be who you are around me.

Veronica:....Anything Huh?

She leans forward slowly, her face crimson. Nick’s brain goes crazy. ‘Is she…!? Wait, no! I’ve never-’ Veronica’s head lands in the crook of his neck and her hands wrap around him weakly.

“Food…” she said half consciously. “Fattening food, meat. Please tell me Atlas has that?”

Nick:Okay! I know a spot that’s out of the way and serves anyone. So-

She shut her eyes and dozed off. Nick heard quiet purring from Vee and saw her injuries finally start to heal. A good sign, but Nick couldn’t travel like this! He’d have trouble even if he wasn’t sick; not to mention he totally forgot that he wasn’t in his regular clothes!

Nick:I did not think this through. No wallet or phone, a passed out girl, and parents that will murder us. Think Nick, who could I call right now that wouldn’t chew me out and still help? Oh! Duh…

xxxx

Penny:I called your parents.

Nick:Why!?

Penny:You’re minors...

Nick:At least they have time to calm down.

Penny:They’re sending Winter.

The boy nearly choked on his thermometer before Penny took it out. He currently sat on one of her medical beds while Veronica was sleeping in one next to him. A stack of meat lovers pizza by the bed was ready for her whenever she woke up.

Penny:Due to physical exhaustion from yesterday, insufficient rest, and slight dehydration, you’re running a slight fever Nicholas Schnee. Maybe even a cold if it gets worse. I’m ordering you to do nothing but rest and go to school. No training, or unneeded stress from extracurricular activities for two days.

Nick:But I have tournament-

Penny:Home and school! A council is not one person, they can get by without you. It would be a tragedy if you couldn’t even compete, then Summer would be disqualified from duos.

Nick:Sigh….yes ma’am. Sleep does sound nice.

Penny:48 hours will be up before you know it!

Nick:Maybe Val and Summer should’ve played hooky today too? Thanks for all this. I know you’re specifically in the medical field but…

Penny:I consider myself a jack of all PHDs.

Nick:How about an expert in faunus biology? Is Veronica-

Penny:She’s fine, but that’s all I can disclose without permission. I’m sure she’ll tell you more of her own free will when I leave the room. She is pretending to be asleep right now to avoid talking to me.

Nick:....WHAT!? *looks at her*

Veronica:.....

Penny:Oscar has tried convincing her to have at least one session with her as a request from her parents for some time now for reasons I’m not sure of. I doubt she wants to speak in my presence out of fear that I might tell Oscar something that he could use to understand her better. Question is, how long will she fake being unconscious until the smell of pizza is too much?

Veronica:*opens eyes* I’m begging you to leave.

Penny:Okay! I have work to complete anyways. Hopefully nothing burst into flames again. Don’t worry about your school belongings. Summer was told to get them.

Penny rubs Nick’s head and goes into a separate lab room. Veronica rises from the bed like a zombie and grabs a pizza box. Drool starts to form as she opens the box and grabs a slice. Meat lovers, it was beautiful. She almost inhaled the slice before looking up and turning red. Nick was staring at her calmly.

Veronica:Ummm….

Nick:Huh? Oh! *turns around* Sorry…

Veronica:It’s just really...I hate being seen when I eat like this. We can still talk though.

Nick:Hmm where to start?

Veronica:Those boys, how much trouble are they going to be for you?

Nick:Oh those knuckleheads won’t be a problem. I’m fortunate that you fought two people who. already hate me and plan on beating me senseless anyways.

Veronica:How is that a good thing exactly?

Nick:Because messing with you gives me an excuse to actively be cruel to them! The school will probably give all of us a slap on the wrist considering we’re in the tournament, duos in fact. They’re the runners up from last year. Both of them were pretty upset underclassmen took their gold.

Veronica:The big one, Max. He looks disturbingly a lot like his pops. Didn’t even know they lived here. Makes sense with the lack of equality around here still.

Nick:Don’t be too quick to judge. Max doesn’t hate faunus and my dad says Cardin is a pretty alright guy these days.

Veronica:Yet his son appears to be falling in similar pitfalls. Bastard said I wasn’t his type and gave me the strangest look.

Nick:Maybe he’s just not into blondes or something, I don’t know. As far as apples falling from trees go, my dad is pretty respectful and turns the other cheek quite a bit; that didn’t carry over haha.

Veronica:Yeah you’re petty and smug, like a gremlin or something. A cute one. You’re also very cheerful in a sarcastically optimistic way. Weird, you’re weird Nick.

Nick:It’s called charisma. Can I get a slice? This is a lot of pizza.

Veronica:Knock yourself out. You went a little overboard with ten boxes.

Nick:I don’t know how any of this works. Is there a certain ratio of meat or…

Veronica:Think of it as a kind of mental/physical diet. Meat sets of the animal instinct and keeps everything working okay. Too much and the instincts stay on. The eyes, hair, claws, teeth, and other more psychological things stick around. No meat eventually draws it out in a more aggressive nature and my body can’t operate well because of the messing the nutrients. Everything hurts.

Nick:So on one end you’re a peak apex predator, then the other is what, starved wildcat?

Veronica:I call it going feral but yeah that works. I don’t like either position. One is physically painful while the other….I just don’t like the “apex” me. It’s a lot to handle.

Nick:For you or other people?

Veronica:I’d like if we changed the subject please?

Nick:Sorry. Anything on your mind.

Veronica:...Your feelings for me.

He choked on a pepperoni, coughing and hacking it back up to catch his breath. Of course that’s on her mind! Nick had to keep his cool, this was important. He had answers but had no clue if they were good answers.

He turned around despite her earlier request. This had to be done face to face. Veronica must’ve known that because she wasn't eating anymore. Her hands rested on the box that most likely was empty by now and eyes focused on her normal looking nails.

Bright blush ran across her face again with her ears down. Her tail curled around her left arm. In a weird way he wished the world could see her right now. It was for this exact reason he always vouched for Vee. The overwhelmingly confident and rowdy island girl wasn’t all she was. Veronica could feel insecure or be meek.She never dismissed her faults but also had no shame pointing out others. Veronica saw everything she could in something and was honest about her feelings with it to the point all she ever did to avoid discussion was say she didn’t want to talk about it or be vague.

Nick:Uhh, what about the subject exactly?

Veronica:Can you get a little closer?

Nick stood up and sat on the edge of her bed. Veronica patted her hand and me closer. Then another pat made him get closer, then another, and another; until he was beside her. Vee’s hand grabbed his and she leaned, dangerously close. Nick started to feel his heart race again.

Veronica:Have you kissed a girl?

Nick:K..Kiss?! As in...no. H-Have you?

Veronica:Once, well a couple times by one person. It was pretty crappy honestly, for many reasons.

Nick:I’m sorry…

Veronica:It’s alright. I’m sure I’ll have better ones.

She could feel him shake a little. His heart sounded like firecrackers going off with how fast it was. Veronica leaned just a little closer and the boy shut his eyes. He made no advances, no tilt, or lean. Nick would’ve just let it happen. Veronica smiles before flicking his forehead to make him jump. She laughed and leaned back, but kept holding his hand.

Veronica:As much as I like you I won’t take anything you don’t want to give me. Your first kiss happens once. Do it on your terms. I hope Valerie accepts it.

Nick:I’m sorry.

Veronica:Don’t be. You’ve always looked her way. I can see why. I wish you thought I was as pretty and wonderful just like her. Maybe if I cracked more jokes or a bit nicer, then you would fall for-

Nick:You are so gorgeous Veronica Belladonna.

His words derailed her own. Nick smiled at the girl curiously with his blushing face that made her heart melt. This was unexpected. This face, those words, it was so...sincere.

Nick:You tell plenty of jokes, sure you need work on your attitude but Val is rowdier than you on occasion. There isn’t a thing about you that doesn’t make me…

Veronica:Nicholas…? Do you...feel something for me?

Nick:Of course I do you dunce.

Veronica:Then why-

Nick:Because Val has my heart. How could I date you knowing that? I’d feel really shitty being with someone that loves me so much and my heart is set on another girl. That’s not very chivalrous of someone who loves the idea of being a knight.

Veronica:So...I guess she really is the princess in your story?

Nick:Wrong. I’ve never thought of Val like that. She’s...my longest friend and companion. We’ve done so much together just to see if we could. Val to me is like another knight. Rival, friend, crush...she’s a lot. A princess isn’t one of them. If I’m being honest with myself, you’d be my princess.

Life was so unfair, he was unfair. Veronica’s mind was everywhere just like her blush. Was Nick letting her down easy or flirting!? How could he do both!? Veronica let go of his hand and put the covers over her head. Looking at his dumb face wasn’t helping the situation. She really was in love with this clown.

Veronica:You really are such a gremlin you know!? Now I like you more!

Nick:Oh...well..I don’t know what I was trying to do just now. I was explaining myself and sorta… I’m so fucking stupid. I’m gonna go wash up and give you some space now.

She gave him a thumbs up and heard his footsteps slowly grow distant until they stopped. Was he...looking back at her!? Was it with embarrassment or longingly!? It would be weird to peek out now! This cover was a bad idea. His footsteps started again and Veronica heard the doorknob open. Not yet, he couldn’t leave yet without her proper response.

Veronica:Nicholas?

Nick:Yeah?

Veronica:I hope, I hope things work out for you and Val. Regardless of my feelings I want you to be happy. That being said, don’t think I’m going to stop trying, because you...have my heart. And I need you to know that if for some reason Val doesn’t accept yours, or you get it back, I’ll accept it with open arms.

Nick:....

Veronica:....Too much?

Nick:No, it was just right. Thanks, Vee.

The door slowly creaked closed as he left. Just before it did however, the tiniest whisper slipped through. Was it on purpose, or did her hearing escape his thoughts. Either way Veronica pressed her pillow against her chest flustered.

“My princess” Damn those Schnees. They always know just what to say.

Part 16

More nonsense but in that last Mandalorian recap I realized I gave the barely-a-fic I’ve been doing a plot hole, and even if three of y’all care I fixed it bc my writing brain is finally, finally working again. Behold, the worst summary: 

Refusal of the Call

In which Din has a request, and Raza and Cobb share a brain cell with different degrees of success in its usage. 

Din stared across the table at Raza and Cobb, trying to figure out just how to present the thing he had been hesitating to ask the last few hours. Din had bitten the bullet and  returned to Mos Pelgo after the speeder debacle so the speeder could get repaired and he could get some rest so he wasn’t caught as unawares again. But now he was about to depart so he intended to ask at the last minute so there could be less damage. For all involved.  It has been nice enough, he could admit, but the sight in front of him made him think back on the last thought he had about the dynamic, and well, now that everything had calmed down and he could make clear connections, well, there was something obvious staring him in the face. He turned his attention to Raza. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Her smile was immediate, kind. “Sure. What do you have in mind?” 

“I need you to take the kid.” 

She beamed. “You  got it,” she looked at The Child. “How about that, Little One? You stay here with Aunt Raz and Uncle Cobb when your daddy goes off to do something dangerous?” she looked at Din. “For how long? Couple of days?”

“As long as you can take him. Life, if you can.”

Her response was immediate. Her smile dropped instantaneously: “No!” 

It was matched perfectly with Cobb’s incredulous “What?!” and even the Child made a squeak that sounded stunned and offended. 

Din sighed. “He’s… somehow a Jedi. He needs to be with his people-“

“Mando, I’m not his people. I’ve only known one of his kind and -“

Din started to stand at the comment, completely forgetting the Child was in his lap for the moment. He scrambled to catch the Child, only to find that Cobb had already lunged for him, gotten a hold of him and had set him in his own lap instead. That was another reason he was certain he was making the right choice. The kid would be raised loved and protected if he did this. It was much better than his current situation. Though the fact that Cobb leaned over The Child what looked like protectively against him and was giving him a warning look didn’t quite sit well in his gut. Even The Child looked distressed, which made it much worse. Maybe he’d wait to see about the species mate. Maybe that would work better than a Jedi.  “You’ve seen his kind before?” 

Her response was guarded. “A long time ago, when my father brought me to an old Jedi for a game of catch up- and to see if I could train.”

“Where is he now?”

“Was. Was in Dagobah. But he’s long gone, I’m afraid. Died… must have been ten years back now. My friend Luke might know more. He’s one of us, too. I can ask if you’d like but with my skill, well, lack thereof. it might take a while.” 

Din sighed again. So close and so far. He thought that would be it, he would be home free, the kid could be safe with his people who would understand him, keep him on the right path. It was finally getting to him just how many plans had gone wrong. At least this one didn’t end up in mayhem or bloodshed. “No, that’s…” what could he even say. “He needs to be with you, your mother- Jedi. Decent Jedi. And I don’t mean in skill.”

“We’re barely Jedi, we don’t count.”

“You’ve got decent covered, though. You’re all I have. And some understanding is better than none.” 

“And you’re all he’s got. He’s your son.”

“He’s not.” His heart broke at the honest to god distressed sound the Child made. “He just… needs people who are better for him.”

“You’re the best for him. You can have him get trained in the Force without severing any sort of relationships. It worked for me... more or less.”  

“I took him with me to fight the Krayt Dragon,” Din objected. 

Cobb finally spoke up. “And he loved every second, if I heard right.” 

Din turned his attention to Cobb and tried to convey annoyance through the helmet. 

It worked, judging by how Cobb tossed his hands up in the air. “What? He did! He only got scared the one time. That’s saying something.” 

“Yes, it’s saying he’s getting used to danger. That’s a problem,” Din looked back at Raza. 

“No,” she repeated, firmer than the last time. 

“Cobb wants children,” Din blurted. If the other man was going to throw him under the bus, he’d do it right back. “Told me last night when he had a couple of drinks in him. You can get your wish if you take the kid.” 

Cobb gaped at him, then looked at Raza frantically. “Now hold on a sec-” 

Raza put a hand out to silence him. “And that’s our call when the time comes, not yours trying to pawn off the kid.” 

The Child cooed at that, sounding hurt, and Din’s heart broke again. It’s for him. It’s for his safety. “I just want what’s best for him.” 

“You’re what’s best for him,” Raza replied. 

“Doubtful,” 

“So the next best thing is dumping him off with strangers?” Cobb cut in. 

“We’re not strangers.”

“Funny, you told me the opposite two days ago,” Cobb deadpanned. He sounded… off. 

“I just… trust you both with his safety… and knowing what to do with those powers of his.” 

Cobb scoffed with enough venom in his tone that it alarmed the other two. “You’re asking us to sit by and let you abandon your son, Mando,” Cobb finally cut in. His voice sounded dangerous. “It happened to me, my parents dropped me here right after having, and I I’ll be damned if I sit by and let that happen to this little guy that I’m already fond of.”

Din’s stomach twisted all over again. So that was why he had been so quiet, why he was holding the Child so tightly during that conversation.

Cobb continued. “If we’re not strangers after all, you won’t ask that of us. So don’t you dare. Ever. And honestly I’m pretty damn disappointed in you that you made it this far.” 

Well now this was bound to end like all others had. So mayhem, then. He opened his mouth, then shut it. “I’m not trying to pawn him off, I-” 

“Sure sounds like it.” 

“I’m sorry, I just-” 

“Take. Your. Damn. Kid,” Cobb replied. He passed the Child over to him, the Child himself whining at the sudden shift in energy. 

To her credit, Raza did too. She gave the Child’s head a reassuring rub, then looked at Din. “Look, we get it. We do. And we know you care about the kid. And that’s another reason why we can’t do that to you. Or the little one.” She went to pull her hand from the Child, but the Child reached up in order to keep her hand there. She sighed, then passed her hand over his head lightly. “You two will be fine, you can make it through this. You’ll help him find his way. It’s just not here without you.” 

Cobb’s eyes flicked to his, not at all losing any of the annoyance he had built up. 

Din sighed. Those two were tough, but they made fair points. There was no sense in arguing. There was no way Raza and her mother were the last two around. She had mentioned Luke. Luke Skywalker, he supposed. That was a start. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll be fine. We’ll make it through. Won’t we, Kid?” He hoped it sounded convincing. He opened his arms. “Come on Kid, we have to go.”

“Wh-“ Raza’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re leaving from here? You were actually going to dump him and run?”

“Would’ve been easier on the both of us,” Din admitted quietly. He only took small comfort in how Raza’s face shifted from growing anger to sympathy. At least he had that. Cobb was still glaring at him. He opened his arms. “Come on, kid. We have to be back to the Crest by nightfall.”

The Child pouted for a moment, mourning the soon to be loss of the pets, but got up on the table, waddled over and let Din put him back in his sling. 

“We’ll walk you out, make sure you don’t dump him on one of our doorsteps,” Cobb commented  drily, rising to walk with him all the same. Raza joined them, and they all gathered by the speeder, just like they had the last time. 

“I won’t. You’ve got nothing to worry about, message received, loud and clear. He stays with me,” Din assured them. He took the Child’s carrier out and set it on the floor of the speeder. Then, carefully, eager to out some physical and emotional distance between them: “Thank you for the hospitality. We’ll meet again.” He got into it and fired up the engine, and without another word, pushed off and started making his way through the town. 

The Child popped his head out of the bag and waved goodbye to the other two, and they waved back half heartedly. 

After Din was out of sight, Cobb sighed heavily. “Kriff…” Another pause. “That reminds me, we gotta go to Mos Eisley this weekend. Ma invited us for dinner. She asked me to ask you to bring the stuff to make that roasted nuna you made the last time.” 

“Okay. You do know that he’s gonna kill you when he finds out that you lied, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely. But you were floundering, I jumped in to assist. But I just lied to the guy. You mind tricked him. He’s gonna be more mad about that, I’m sure.”

“The kid’s not vocal. He’s not gonna know about the Jedi mind trick for a while. He’s gonna figure out the lie way sooner.”

“He’s gonna have to catch me, first,” Cobb countered. Then, carefully: “you think he and the kid will actually be okay? He ain’t gonna do something stupid?”

“See, that’s the good thing about my mind tricks. Most of the time they only work if there’s already some semblance of what I tell them in their heads already,” Raza answered. “They will be fine. He doesn’t want to leave the kid as much as he pretends he does.” She looked back at the speeder, already just a dot on the horizon. “He needs the kid more than he thinks the kid needs him. Part of him knows that, too.” 

“That is… actually assuring. Feel like an ass for doubting him, though.” 

“You’re in good company there.”

—-

A few months later, Cobb had been repairing part of his roof when he heard a few passersby talking excitedly about how ‘he’ was back. He was vaguely concerned for a moment until he looked over the side of the roof to see a familiar green and brown lump make its way to his doorway. “Kid…?” There was silence, an excited squeak, followed by Raza going “Little One!” inside. Ah. That “he.” No cause for concern then. Especially if he still had the kid. He hopped down from the roof, intent on finding the surrogate father, only to come just about face to face with him just outside the entryway.  “Hey, our favorite Mandalorian returns. Good to see you. What brings you here?” 

Din hummed. “Had some trouble in Mos Eisley before this.”

“Oh?” Cobb grinned. 

“Trouble with a job. Had to stay the night,” he slowly turned towards him. “Met a nice old couple who put me up for the night. Eric and  Noma.” Cobb stopped smiling. “Vanth. Who are very much looking forward to their son Cobb’s wedding in a couple of months. Noma’s been dreaming about it since they took him home from the Medical Pavilion.”

Cobb flinched, feeling the annoyance seeping from the man. He wondered if he should just start running now.  “... Can I get a head start, at least?” 

Din’s response was punching him in the gut, but he could tell he pulled it, so even as he doubled over, he tried not to laugh after the pain receded. “Okay, so it was a lie, a bit of a mean one. But hey, you’ve still got the kid, so we were right. He is yours.”

“That’s why you’re not dead,” Din answered. “Is Raza inside? I’ve got a question about… Jedi mind altering.”

Shit. “You gonna hit her for pulling that, too?”

“... … What?”

Cobb frowned, then looked at the kid, suddenly putting together that he had done something with it. Go figure. She had said the thought had to be there. “Nothing. Right this way. Help me up the step, I can’t move anything below my chest thanks to you.” 

“Fine.”

jisung & the fbi

okay do u guys remember that whole “fbi-agent-watching-me-through-my-computer” meme??? bc thats what the au is based on. why?? i have literally no idea. i am a complete crackhead. i am literally down to a single brain cell at the moment. i apologise for this. 💞💖💘

(3.3k words, wtf?? hopefully some semblance of comedy, and of course, 100% fluff, the only warnings that I could think of is jisung swearing?? if you don’t want to read that then scroll past this is guess lol)

song rec: alfie’s song (not so typical love song) by bleachers

The first time your computer started talking to you was a lazy Sunday afternoon in Mid-May. You had just successfully completed a horrific essay and turned on some music to enjoy a small celebration ceremony, when the chorus of your song was abruptly cut off and replaced by a static-filled recording of a whining voice.

“-yong the microphone’s broken again! I think it’s cause they keep playing Ke$ha too loudly…”

There was a pause as the voice seemed to listen to a reply outside of your earshot. You froze, eyes scanning the room frantically in an attempt to find the culprit of your disturbance.

“Of course I tried turning it on and off again, I’m not a complete idiot!”

Despite the potentially terrifying situation you found yourself in, you couldn’t help but giggle at the clear domestic that you were somehow witnessing. Whoever was complaining so fiercely, kept talking in an unnervingly young-sounding voice, so after a few more minutes of his whining, you decided that they weren’t going to be too much of a threat.

Sitting back down at your desk, you frowned at your laptop. Apart from the word document you had up, ready to send to your professor, and the streaming site for your music, your desktop was completely empty. There was no sign of another person accidentally having facetimed you, which at that point was your main theory for the sudden interruption.

“Hello?” 

The pretty much constant monologue you had heard ever since your computer started glitching cut off, as the boy immediately stopped talking. You held your breath, now sure that the situation was not at all to do with a wrong-number. It felt as though you had caught him.

Gaining a little more courage, with the assumption that you were therefore in the right in the situation, you decided to continue. “I know you’re in there, I-”

This time you were interrupted with a scratchy snigger. Perturbed, you frowned slightly, and leaned into your computer. “Well, where are you then? How can you be coming from my computer and not-”

“I’m not actually inside your computer!” came the protest out of your tinny speaker. “You do know that’s not possible, right?”

Glad whoever this was couldn’t see your cheeks suddenly flush red, you replied in a confident tone; “Duh, I was just-“

“No you didn’t, you’re blushing, I can see it!” your computer crowed. 

For the first time since he had started talking, you felt a tiny jolt of fear shiver up your spine.

“H- how can you see me?” Your voice was much quieter now.

You expected a menacing reply, since you were now assuming you had been hacked, but the response was in a rambling tone as equally soft as yours. 

“Well, technically, I can only see you if your webcam is switched on, but you basically never turn it off, I don’t actually think you know how, but since you watch TV in the other room so much, it’s not like this is constant 24-hour-surveillance, y’know, I-”

“Hang on, you’ve been watching me?” You were filled with indignation, your previous fear forgotten in the anger you felt at the idea of being spied on. “That’s fucked up! Just because you want to fulfil some perverted-“ struggling to find the words, you ended your rant with a confident “I’m calling the police!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you~” the computer sung, “I’m afraid you won’t get very far.”

“Why not?”

“I am the police.”

Another silence. You collected yourself.

“What, and I cannot stress this enough, the flying fuck does that mean?” Your voice was so calm and low you swore you could hear a gulp down the other line.

“It’s legal!” Came the eventual squeak. “People have such bad net security these days, they’ll agree to anything just so they can use weird sites, and usually we use it to spy on like, terrorists and stuff, but since it’s only my first few months here and I’m so young Doyoung said I should just watch you for practice, because we’re pretty sure you’re not doing anything illegal, unless you are of course, that’s my job to find out, but you have like, the worst cyber security in the whole city, so-”

“Woah, okay.” You cut off his verbiage for the second time, “You’re telling me...” You paused, frowning as you tried to make sense of what was going on. “You’re allowed to spy on me?”

“Like I said, it’s completely legal.”

“What are you doing with my information?”

“Nothing! I’m just using you to practice my surveillance skills.”

“Oh.” You were surprised to find yourself slightly disappointed in the idea that you were basically the equivalent of a homework assignment for a disgruntled intern. “Okay. I suppose that's fine then.”

The computer snickered again. “As if you had any choice.”

“Hey! At least pretend to let me have some free will!” And with that, you slammed the lip of your laptop shut. Shoving it under your bed, heart pounding, you decided that perhaps you would stay away from technology for a while.

-

Barely two days later, you had completely given up on your internet detox. You decided that being constantly surveyed by a bodiless voice was infinitely better than being constantly bored with your lack of anything to do. Opening up the computer’s lid for the first time that week, you waited in trepidation as your lockscreen slowly blinked to life.

Silence.

Logging on, you stared into the lens of your webcam, squinting slightly as if you would somehow be able to see the person on the other end. After a few minutes of scrutinising the screen with no response from the other end, you started to doubt yourself. Did a voice really come out of your computer? Looking back, you had been pretty much delirious that day, fuelled by red bull and sleep deprivation. Maybe you had been so happy to have finally finished your assignment, you completely imagined the whole scenario.

Cautiously loading your web browser, you opened up Netflix. Holding your breath, you resumed playing an episode of the show you had been watching for the past few months. It was a comedy, and you found yourself giggling after a while, distracted by the punchlines of the show, distracted by the storyline in spite of your determination to catch out whoever was spying on your computer.

It was only after a particularly funny joke, that you even remembered that you were supposed to be catching the mysterious voice out, to be honest. You heard a tiny giggle a few seconds after the punchline, almost missing it behind the canned laughter that had played on screen. Gotcha.

 “Aha!” You gloated, pausing the screen. “I knew I didn’t imagine you!”

“Yes you did, go back to your show, idiot.” Came the reply. And then, a few seconds later, “Shit. The microphone is still broken?”

“Hell yeah it is!” You exclaimed. “Now you’ve gotta tell me your name.” 

You had decided, after a few sleepless nights of careful consideration, that there was no way that this so-called ‘agent’ was a threat. He had mentioned something beforehand about the fact he was quite young, and it wasn’t like there was anything incriminating on your computer. He had sounded so scared to have been caught the first time, you almost felt bad for the boy. So, you decided, since you didn’t really have any other plans for that weekend, you would befriend the boy spying on you.

“W-what?” He spluttered. “That’s confidential.”

“But since we’re gonna spend practically our whole lives together now, what with me innocently browsing the internet, and you ruthlessly analysing my every move, I should at least know what to call you!”

“You shouldn’t be talking to me at all,” was the reply.

You pouted. “C’mon, Mr FBI Man! That’s so not fair. You know basically everything about me, and I don’t even get your first name?”

You heard a small sigh. “I’m afraid not.”

“Hmmm.” You pretended to think. “I guess I’ll just have to name you myself, then. What about-”

“No!” He interrupted you. “I’ve seen the list of future baby names you sent your friend at like three in the morning last month. I do not trust your naming choices. Call me...”

You huffed, leaning back in your chair whilst he paused to consider.

“Ji. Call me Ji.”

“Ji? What kind of a name is that?!” You replied. “Ji, Ji, Ji, Ji, baby, baby, baby, Ji-”

“Stop that! God, you cannot sing.”

Unperturbed by his insults, you simply switched to another song. “You’re the Ji-nie in my computer, baby-”

“Really? Insulting both Girls Generation and Christina Aguilera in the same breath? Those lyrics don’t even work.”

“That’s what happens when you give me a crappy name.” You retorted. 

He groaned, loudly. “Why, of all the people on the planet I could’ve been assigned to, did I have to get you?”

-

Much to you and Ji’s surprise, the two of you actually got on surprisingly well. Despite the constant teasing, and snide insults being shuttled back and forth, between the two of you, you found yourself growing a sort of begrudging affection for him. Sure, Ji could be pretty freaking annoying, especially when he distracted you with memes he had found, popping them up on your desktop when you were trying to do work, or spoiling the TV shows you were watching right in the final episode, however you supposed he also had some redeeming qualities.

Firstly, he always seemed to know the best spots around your area for whatever you needed. The cheapest handyman for your broken door hinges? Simple. The closest coffee shop for the least amount of money? Easy. The truth was, Ji seemed to have access to sources your humble Google searches just did not. 

His almost magical powers spread online as well. You found yourself being dutifully warned against the scams and spam mail that made its way into your inbox (Though after a while it started disappearing, something you were sure Ji was behind), ads before Youtube videos were eradicated, and God forbid you ever had to pay for shipping.

You also thought, despite himself, the grumpy and sarcastic agent was beginning to develop a fondness for you too. Once, about a month into your ‘friendship,’ you had spent practically an entire afternoon trying to find a shirt you had seen someone on the bus wearing that you thought was stunning. After a copious amount of scrolling, you gave up, but woke the next day to find the very item you had been searching for loaded up on your desktop, your exact size already placed in the shopping cart. 

However, sometimes Ji acted... weird. For example, there was the matter of your mirror. 

Your apartment was so tiny and cramped, you didn’t have the space, nor the funds for a full-length mirror, and so you could never actually get a clear view of how your outfit looked. After months of contorting yourself to try and fit your whole outfit into the tiny bathroom mirror when you had first moved in, you eventually decided to use the next best reflective surface you had available: your webcam. Each time you went out in the evening, to parties or just to hang out with friends, you turned it on, and twirled around in front of it, unabashed. Since Ji had seen you pretty much dead inside, hair scraped back with massive breakouts from stress, trying to finish assignment at three in the morning, or full on ugly-crying at some sappy animation movie, you had no qualms about parading around in front of your computer when you actually looked nice.

Usually, he just teased you about your sudden change in fashion, alternating between making whooping and vomiting noises, but, just last week, he had acted a little... different.

The exchange had started off as it normally did. “Damn, where are you off to looking like that?!” Ji clamoured. “You’re gonna make people too scared to leave their homes!”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, twirling yourself back and forth slightly. “Do you think I look okay? I'm going on a date.”

And then, there was sudden silence. You turned to the computer, concerned it might have run out of battery, as the last time Ji had paused before answering you was months ago, before the two of you knew each other properly. 

“Hello? Earth to Ji?”

“Y-yeah. Um, sorry. Yeah, you look, er...” He cleared his throat. “Nice. I mean, good. I mean-”

“Thanks, Ji! I’ll tell you how it went tomorrow!” Not waiting for his reply, since you were already late, you shut down your computer, and breezed out of the front door.

-

Of course, with your luck, the date was absolutely horrible. You consequentially spent the following evening recovering from the ordeal, curled up with a pint of ice cream, watching Ratatouille and moaning to Ji about how you would never find love.

“I’m serious! I genuinely am convinced I'm going to die alone.” You whined around a mouthful of Cookies N’ Cream. 

“Stop being stupid, you’re very lovable.” Came the instant reply from your computer.

You paused, unsure of how to respond, shocked. At first, your surprise was due to how offhandedly and boldly the boy on the other side of the screen had suddenly delivered the compliment. Then, with a jolt, you realised how quickly your heart had started beating, blood rushing to your face. You had no idea that Ji suddenly had such an effect on you. 

“T-thanks.”

“Not that I-” He stopped himself, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “I mean- You’re just-” He sighed, exasperated. “No, yeah, you’re very lovable.”

You giggled at how flustered he was. “So are you, I guess, as far as disembodied voices go.”

-

You were surprised to find, over the next few weeks, how frequently and easily Ji slipped into your thoughts. Buying a pastry on your way home, you wondered if he had a sweet tooth. Shopping for clothes on the high street, you wondered if Ji was into fashion. Even taking a shower, you wondered what soap he used. Each night, when you lay in your bed, the very subject of your thoughts merely metres away, you cursed yourself for being unable to do more than simply tease him, especially after his comment that night. 

You knew it was stupid to start developing a crush on what was practically just a bodiless voice. Even though he shared your taste in pretty much everything, made you laugh harder than many people you knew physically, and did the best impression of Donald Trump you had ever heard, you didn’t know anything about him aside from that. Trying to ask him questions about his home life, you were stopped by a firm “It’s confidential.” Nevertheless, you still found yourself attempting to push the butterflies in your stomach deep down, each time his staticky voice filled your room.

-

Today, surprisingly, you had managed to keep Ji more or less out of your thoughts. It had been a good day, consisting of a stamp of approval on your end-of-year project from your professor, and a side-splitting lunch with a friend you hadn’t seen in too long. The combination of those two events had you practically skipping down the street on your way home. 

You were in a part of town you didn’t really recognise, having just left the restaurant your friend had suggested that the two of you met at, you decided to treat yourself to a cup of iced coffee, in order to energise you for the work you had to do once you got home.

However, your exciting coffee break, and so-far perfect day was of course, brought to an abrupt end. Having literally just received the drink from the barista, you were violently knocked into by a flash of platinum blonde hair, scurrying up to the counter.  You dropped the drink immediately, whilst the papers the boy was carrying flew up into the air. Both of your immediately dropped to the floor, in order to pick up his papers. You had been mercifully spared from spilling the drink all over yourself, as you had the common sense to throw it behind you. 

“I’m so sorry!” The boy immediately apologised. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”

He stopped when he heard you let out a small gasp. Looking up at you properly for the first time, he saw your eyes go wide, as you recognised his voice.

It would’ve been hard for you to ignore it, since after all, it had been crackling out of the speakers on your laptop for the past is months, 

“Ji?” You whispered, scanning his face intently, 

You knew that Ji had been young, but you hadn't expected him to be practically your age. You also definitely hadn’t expected him to be so, well... gorgeous. 

Blond strands of hair just grazing over deep brown eyes, ridiculously well-proportioned, not to mention beautiful hands you had noticed when he was picking up his papers.

You both rose from the floor, slowly. Apart from the cashier who had started to clean up your spilled drink, it seemed as if no one else in the crowded coffee shop apart from Ji had noticed your entire universe come crashing down around your ears. 

“Um...” He was bright red, “I didn’t think I would ever see you in person.” He said, in a much smaller voice.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you at all!” You replied, a smile subconsciously spreading across your face. “I didn’t think you would be so cute!” You clapped a hand over your mouth, mortified that you had blurted out such an embarrassing statement.

Ji grinned at you, tossing his head facetiously. “A bit forward, are we? Barely two minutes after meeting me and you’re already shooting your shot?” 

You were pretty sure that the colour of your face was an ever deeper shade of crimson than a stop sign. You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to rescue yourself from this situation.

“I don’t mind.” Ji leaned in a little closer, and you inhaled slightly. He smelled of fresh laundry and pineapple-flavoured gum. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You barely trusted yourself to nod. 

“I think you’re pretty cute t-”

“Park Jisung!” A voice barked from the entrance to the shop. A tall, raven-haired man stood tall in the doorway. “Your lunch break was over half an hour ago! Get back in the office, I’m pretty sure that girl you’re always fawning over is home by no-”

“Coming, Doyoung!” He yelled back, ignoring the dirty looks he was being shot from the other customers for disturbing the quiet ambiance of the café. He turned back to you. “Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll-”

“Now, Jisung!” The man, Doyoung, you supposed, interrupted him again.

The boy opposite you sighed, rolling his eyes as he ran a hand through this hair. “I’ll talk to you later, I guess. Be online soon, I need to tell you something.” He turned, about to sprint after his superior, who had already stormed away, when you called him back.

“Jisung!” You used his full name, his real name for the first time, enjoying the way it rolled off of your tongue. 

He faced you again, confused. “Yeah?”

“Um, nothing. Just-” You leaned up a little (God, he was tall), and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “See you when I get home.”

“Uh- Wha... Um- Yeah, I-” 

But you had already left, swishing out of the café, leaving Jisung standing stock still in the middle of the room, left hand touching the invisible mark you had made on his cheek, eyes lit up animatedly as he watched your figure leave his sight, goofy grin spreading across face.

Dinner Disturbed || Flashback Chatzy

Who: Sam Evans Mercedes Jones & Quinn Fabray. When: 7 months ago. What: Mercedes plans a nice dinner for Sam only for it to be interrupted.

Mercedes: smiled to herself as she put the finishing touches on dinner.  She was making Sam’s favorite meal.  She wanted to show him that although things had been a little awkward between them more so lately than normal that she was still appreciative of him.  Truth be told she wanted to show a form of affection that didn’t involve them having sex.  Sex they could do.  Sex they were amazing at actually, but when it came to the everyday romanticisms they were severely lacking.   She pulled the dinner rolls from the oven and placed them in a basket then on the table completing her meal.  “Sam,” she called out to him checking herself in the kitchen mirror quickly. “Dinner is ready.”  She straighten her dress and stood next to the table with a purpose.  Tonight would be a first step in the right direction for them or so she hoped.

Sam: Things between them were strained..had been for some time if he was honest. Ever since Finngate as he had dubbed the incident to himself. Something always held him back from her-apart from in bed. In bed, they pretty much fucked each other's brains out, the want, the need, the connection so damn raw and sinful, it was a wonder the whole damn bed..or truck..or restroom didn't combust. Yeah, he was an addict..addicted to sex with his wife, wherever, however, whenever..it didn't matter to him as long as he could get inside her with a quickness. Their friends ribbed them mercilessly, knowing exactly what they were up to, as soon as they spied the sex-mussed hair and rumpled clothing. Truth be told, he didn't care, and if Finn was there, he made sure to do it even more, wanting his friend to see the just-been-thoroughly-fucked look in her eyes, to remind him, she was Sam's wife, not his, and he was the only one that got to make her look like that. Still..things between them were awkward..He'd heard Kitty remarking rather loudly and snidely, that for a couple who 'screwed like bunnies at every opportunity' they never really engaged in any type of PDA in public. His fault, he knew. He had to get the image on Finn kissing his wife out of his mind. It was now over a year later, she hadn't left and they were doing OK..so why couldn't he move on? "Ok.." he called back to her, walking through to the dining room, of their now, much more well appointed apartment..still he did miss the older, smaller one though. They'd had some memorable times there. "Hmmm..smells good.." he murmured before reaching out and pulling her into his arms, his lips, nuzzling her neck. He was going to forget all about Finn and start showing her, how he felt and this right now, touching her felt right.

Mercedes: welcomed his embrace settling into his arms.   “I hope you’re hungry cause I made all of your favorites.  Including chocolate mousse for dessert.”  This wasn’t a special occasion of any sorts but she just wanted to do some gesture in hopes to get the ball rolling towards them opening up more with one another.  She noticed him becoming distance.  It had been almost a year since the change in Sam.  She couldn’t put it all on him though, since the kiss with Finn, she acted differently too.  At first she was just trying to make up for the guilt she felt and compensate for all the time she had been standoffish in the beginning.   “I was thinking, with Sammie being at my parents house that maybe we can have a nice night together.  Talk about some things.” She walked over to her seat and began to fix him a plate.   “So tell me how was your day?”

“It was good,” he replied, grinning as she subconsciously fussed over him, fixing him a plate of all his favourite things that she had taken the time and trouble to fix for him. “I think you’re right by the way..” he said softly, his hand going out to still her for a moment. “We need to talk..and I kinda think this has been a long time coming..” He was going to tell her, ask her if they stood a chance at forever- he’d agonised over what to do after Finngate and he’d come to the conclusion there was nothing for it. They needed to talk, about how they really felt and where that left them. “Cedes..” he began before the peal of his cell phone cut across his words. “Shit..” he sighed, snatching up the phone as the name Quinn scrolled across the screen. “Hey...I have to take this..” he said to Mercedes before hitting connect and walking out of the room into the hallway. “Quinn..what’s-“ Broken sobs sounded down the phone line and he frowned. “Quinn...what’s wrong?”

Mercedes:   He seemed opened to having a conversation about them and their marriage and she was glad.  She was going to use this opportunity to lay everything out there for them to discuss.  She even flirted with the idea of telling him about the kiss that meant nothing with Finn.  She wanted to be honest with him, about how she felt when it happened and what it made her realize that she wanted this marriage to last.   “Yes,” she replied only for his words to be cut short by a phone.  She sighed annoyed that he decided to take the call.  It’s not that she wanted to eavesdrop on his conversation but it was more so that she had to know who or what was more important than them deciding their future.  She stood out the way where he couldn’t see back against the wall as she heard he say her name.  Quinn.  She didn’t have an ill feelings towards Quinn but somehow a ping of jealousy hit her.  Mercedes could only pick up bits of the convo but what she heard made her sick to her stomach.  ‘you knew..married...’ came Sam’s voice from the other room.  ‘No I’m not gonna tell her..’ she had heard enough she couldn’t believe this was happening.  She made her way back to the kitchen table willing herself not to cry.

Sam:  Dammit..Quinn was sobbing uncontrollably..and she was pregnant. What a complete clusterfuck. "OK..just calm down..it'll be OK.." he tried to reassure her, grabbing his coat and keys. He'd promised her he wouldn't tell a soul, not even Mercedes and he grimaced at the thought of having to lie to his wife. "I'll be there..give me ten minutes.." he said, cutting the connection. "Hey Cedes..uh..something's come up at work, so I'll have to take a raincheck, babe.." He headed towards the door stopping to plant a kiss, on her forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mercedes:  wasn’t a fool but at this moment she felt exactly like one.  She did all this planning and preparation trying her best to make things right for her and Sam just to end up looking stupid.  Played.  That’s the word that came to mind.   He played her.  When he came out and kissed she, she didn’t feel anything but betrayal.  The longer she sat there the more viscous her thoughts were.  One second she was grabbing her keys and the next she was out the door and trailing a few cars apart behind Sam.   She knew this was insane but she wanted to know if he was being truthful, especially after hearing the bits of his conversation.  Her heart in her chest as they passed right by his office.  He wasn’t going to work.  In fact a few minutes later he was pulling into a duplex.  She parked across the street a a few cars down, and before he even got out the car Quinn was running out in tears.   Mercedes watched as he consoled the crying blond as her own tears began to fall.  

Sam: Quinn flung herself into his arms as he'd barely gotten out of the car. His arms went around her, his hand rubbing her back, even as his thoughts drifted back to Mercedes, the woman he loved more than life itself. He hated having to leave her, hated even more having to lie, but Quinn had been his friend ever since elementary and they'd been through a lot together. A lot of firsts together-first date, first kiss..first..yeah..a lot of firsts together.. and that kind of history was hard to set aside. "You need to calm down.." he told her, as she cried on his shoulder. "This isn't good for the baby.." She lifted her head up, then stood on her tiptoes, her arms encircling his neck, blonde hair cascading down her back, swollen tear-stained eyes trained on his lips. "Kiss me, Sam..kiss me the way you did before..make me feel it Sammy..please.." she whispered before her lips landed on his.

Mercedes:  didn’t know why she was torturing herself by not driving off.  Once he enveloped Quinn in his arms she should have left and went about her merry way.  Instead now she was watching as he rubbed her back.  He handled her so delicately and the jealousy she felt began to become too much.   This was her own fault.  Had she not been so scared to let him in maybe he wouldn’t be seeking love or affection from other woman.   She held her head low resting it on the steering wheel as she weeped.  He didn’t love her.  She was right about thinking all of the times he showed her some semblance of affection it was purely out of obligation.   Feeling like she’d cried enough she lifted her head just in time to see them kiss.  How could he do this? How could he ruin everything?  What about her and Sammie?  She cranked her ignition pulling out fast as she dialed a number.  “Rachel....” she sobbed.  “I need you.”

Sam: Horrified he pulled back, gently pushing Quinn away and out of his arms. “What the hell, Quinn?! The last time I kissed you was back in high school! We were kids!” Quinn sobbed harder tears streaming across her beautiful face. “ I shouldn’t have let you go back then! If I hadn’t been so dumb we’d still be together and maybe this baby would be ours..” Sam shook his head slowly. “We were never going to last- we were friends, best friends and sure we dated and yeah we kissed and fooled around but it was more a right of passage..” She shook her head wildly, denying his words. “ We split up but I knew we’d get back together..but then you got Mercedes pregnant..and you got stuck with her and a baby..” Sam grasped her shoulders, making her look at him. “Quinn, I get you’re upset. You’re pregnant, alone and scared. But you need to face the truth. You didn’t love me then and you don’t love me now. We were never destined to be together. Yeah, I got her pregnant...and all of you, every last one of you, assumed I was trapped. That I was paying some sort of penance. And that is just not true. I love my wife, Quinn. Always have done, always will. Getting her pregnant was bad luck- not because it meant we were trapped but because it limited her options. But here’s the thing- back in high school, back before Sammie, I vowed I was going to do whatever it took to win her. That there was no future in which she wasn’t with me.” He could see the shock in Quinn’s eyes as she assimilated what he was telling her. “ You love Mercedes...I..we..always thought that...I mean Sam, I liked her, still do...I just..thought you guys were together for Sammie..I saw the way you were with her, and I thought..I wanted that for me..I’m so selfish..” her face crumpled, hands flying to cover it. “You’re upset and I get that. But you need to talk to Mike. You love Mike, Quinn and trying to move on with someone else is just going to end in disaster, You knew he was married- yeah, he’s damn miserable with Kitty but married all the same. For the record, it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t have been in love with Mercedes. My answer would still be no. Marriage is something I take incredibly seriously..” She threw herself into his arms, completely heartbroken. “Mike’a never going to leave her, she’ll never let him..” Sam shrugged, not knowing how Mike would react. “ He might surprise you..One thing I do know, Mike loves you. The way I love Mercedes. And that kind of thing can’t be dismissed...Just hang in there, things will work out, the way they’re meant to..you’ll see.” His thoughts went to his wife- he had to do something..the last ten years had been a rocky ride sure, full of ups and downs, but he was also incredibly grateful he’d gotten to live it with her. Maybe..maybe it was time to tell her exactly how he felt.

Character Development Questions -- Michael Scofield

Curious about Michael Scofield? He’s a deep character with a lot of layers that are begging to be explored. 

Questions based on this ask meme

What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

While in prison, Michael slept on his back or side - this was the least vulnerable position for him to sleep in

At home, Michael sleeps on his side or his stomach, as this is the most comfortable for him after being on guard 24/7 for so long.

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.

Michael is missing two toes due to a prison incident, as well as having a large burn scar on his right shoulder blade. There are other scars that he received while in prison. (Stabbings, burns, etc)

Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

Michael has a general american accent, generalized around a Midwest accent. Says things like “outta” instead of “out of,” “gotta” rather than “got to/have to.” He also carries many of the typical Midwest slang and colloquialisms that are popular in the Great Lakes/Chicago area.

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

When there is a lot of emotion stirring within Michael, he can tend to have more outbursts. He can also be very quiet if he’s calculating something in specific detail. 

What are their chief tension areas?

Michael’s primary tension area is in his neck & hands.

If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

“Save Me” - by Remy Zero

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Michael sees himself as an overall good person, but sometimes even the best people have to do bad or hurtful things to get where they need to be.

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?

Both. Michael was diagnosed with something known as low latent inhibition, meaning while one person sees a doorknob as a doorknob, Michael sees the doorknob for every single part, even the ones the naked eye cannot see.

He’s a quick thinker most of the time, but when the plan he had set doesn’t go exactly as he had planned and set up, he needs time to think and sort through things.

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness?

If he dreams, it’s usually a nightmare of some sort. Fox River changed him, causing more trauma on an already traumatized person. Usually the dream/nightmare consists of losing someone he loves while he is helpless and can’t do anything to aid them.

 Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

There were many sleepless nights while Michael was incarcerated. He spent them planning and re-planning the escape, making sure every minute detail was fully planned for. When the original plan backfired, he would pace his cell, trying to figure out a new plan.

After his nightmares, he can never fall back asleep, so he thinks about time with Lincoln and LJ before everything happened. He reminisces on the good memories they had together.

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?

Train, because there is less stimuli for his LLI to get fixated on, and he can put some headphones on, pull a hat down over his eyes, and have some control of the stimuli.

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Michael is a Christian, but it’s not prominent in his life. While at Fox River, he attended chapel as a time to see his brother. He speaks about God occasionally, but isn’t really much of a church-goer or a man of prayer.

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Creative Genius, due to his low latent inhibition & high IQ

unflappable determination

taciturn

Stoic

teetering on the edge of psychosis

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something?

Sometimes the amount of incoming stimuli is too much, and Michael’s brain powers down for him, saving him from falling into complete psychosis.

Rarely, Michael notices that he’s overwhelmed and can take a step away from things and let himself cool down and be in a quiet place.

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?

Michael has only known being on his own or with his brother. He prefers to go things alone, but when faced with certain situations, he can be a team player.

Being a team player is actually one of his faults, because he puts others before himself, making huge sacrifices to help others, and is often more concerned with other people’s welfare than his own.

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

Yes. He can to do both, but if there is a lot of incoming stimuli (pretty much always), he must only focus on one thing at a time

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.

Best

Math

Physics

History

Architecture

Art

Worst

Science

Home Economics

Economics

Music

Gym

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Introvert. Michael doesn’t do well in crowds, so he tries to stay close to the edge of larger crowds. During Rec time at Fox River, you could usually find him alone, somewhere along the perimeter of the fence. During block time in Gen Pop, Michael typically stayed in his cell unless he absolutely needed to talk to someone.

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?

Michael prefers to lead, because he knows if he doesn’t, shit won’t get done properly.

He also knows when to delegate tasks to other people and when it’s appropriate to sit on the sidelines and/or follow.

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

Depends on the situation, honestly. Michael feels a great deal of pain and suffering from those around him, and he has a severely low sense of self-worth, meaning he will let himself get beat to a pulp. The only time he fights back is when threats have been made to his family, or a family member or close friend is relying on him to stay alive.

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?

Michael is not one to murder. The memories would haunt him and torture him for all of his life. I think even if he had the chance, he still wouldn’t take it.

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

Happiness and health for his friends & family

A relationship with his parents

(to be determined)

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?

Michael trusts very few, especially when it comes to his safety and the safety of those he cares deeply about. He also can lead people to believe that he’s trustworthy, when in reality Michael can be pretty untrustworthy at times.

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

Michael has been touched starved nearly his entire life, so when he shows affection, it’s huge for him. The quickest way to his heart is through words of affirmation and positive physical touch. If a touch is unwanted, unwarranted, or unexpected, Michael will pull away.

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Due to his time in prison and the connections he made (or lack thereof), Michael has racked up his fair share of enemies. Some in the Chicago Mob, some because he somehow wronged them while in prison.

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?

Michael follows a usual routine when getting ready for bed. This routine helps him to have some semblance of control in his otherwise hectic life. The routine usually starts with brushing his teeth, washing his face, and changing into pajamas before crawling into bed and reading until he starts to feel drowsy. Then, inevitably, he puts his book away and is wide awake, tossing and turning for another hour or more with his racing thoughts before he actually falls asleep.

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

Michael would hug his mom, and tell her how much he loves her. With his Dad he would just want to ensure him that he forgave him.

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Michael fears death just as much as the next person, but he also doesn’t care about it. I think he fears the pain before death more than death itself.

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?

Michael longs for solitude & silence. When he’s surrounded by others, the voices, sounds, and movements can be too stimulating for him. If he’s in a group and leaves suddenly, he’s taking the steps to remove himself from the situation and stop himself from overstimulation.

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

Honestly, as silly as it is, i think it would be cornbread. There’s something about the simple food that he enjoys so much. It’s sweet, but salty. 

Deliverance [2]

Careful when you’re swimming in the holy water.

SERIES: Far Cry 5 WORD COUNT: 7,557 SHIP: Quinn/John Seed CHARACTERS: quinn leonis, john seed, eli palmer, wheaty, jacob seed

HERE TAKE THIS IM SICK OF LOOKING AT IT

It had never been apparent to her just how debilitating losing her sense of time’s passage could be until now.

She imagines it’s been weeks since she’d fled the Whitetail Mountains, but between the lack of sunlight and the hours that crept by so slowly they felt like days instead she had no idea how much time she’d been stuck here in the cell she’d been thrown in after the baptism John had performed on her.

Part of her still found that amusing. She’d been raised Catholic (her mother’s insistence, not her father’s), and that meant she’d effectively been baptized twice. It’s not technically unusual and she knows people sometimes chose to have another, but it wasn’t something she would have ever chosen herself—she hadn’t been any semblance of religious since her pre-teens.

A breath is huffed out as she lowers herself on bent arms, chest almost brushing the ground before she pushes herself back up again.

For the first time since escaping Jacob’s clutches Quinn can feel herself regaining the strength and good health she’d had before her initial capture in the mountains. Being stuck in a cage once again was hardly a great feeling (dehumanizing, at best) but unlike his older brother John seemed to actually give somewhat of a damn about keeping her healthy. It was probably some kind of manipulation tactic, but she could hardly complain about not starving and having a cot to sleep on rather than the ground.

Whether or not that applied to his other prisoners, she wasn’t sure.

It was slow going and she knows she won’t be back to peak health for a while, but she was on her way and that was good enough for her. The degrading health had been the worst aspect of her time with Jacob—not the starvation itself or the deplorable conditions they were all kept in or even the mind-fuckery, but the fact that she could feel herself weakening with every day that passed.

His methods hadn’t made any sense to her while there; what was the point of trying to train soldiers when you were keeping them too weak to so much as throw a halfway decent punch?

She’d gotten John to clarify it a bit after she’d discovered that once he’d found out she gave as good as she got in wordplay he could be sufficiently distracted from pulling her metaphorical—hopefully metaphorical—teeth.

(maybe she’d batted her eyelashes a few times and maybe Jacob’s demeaning question of if she abused flirting to get her way all the time drifted into her head whenever she did, maybe Jacob Seed could go fuck himself)

Jacob’s game was deprivation of sustenance and rest, keeping the ‘trainees’ weak and demoralized until they were physically and mentally pliable enough to push and twist in the direction he wanted. Classical conditioning. Pure psychological warfare confirmed.

There wasn’t any comfort in having her suspicions validated; it had almost made her less comforted when she again heard a faint echo of come home, kitten whisper through her mind like a passing breeze.

The cat and mouse games her and John had started up from the moment he first strapped her to the chair in his workshop was something she hadn’t expected to get away with, but he’d actually seemed to enjoy it—at least in the beginning. His patience for it had begun to wear thin, if his increased threats and agitation as the days passed were anything to go by.

Though she managed to dig a few more things out of him during their ‘sessions’, he was talented at swerving around questions and idle comments that would have given her something to actually work with; in itself, that was telling. He’d probably been in a white-collar profession judging by the well-kempt appearance and intelligence, but that assumption had a wrench thrown in it every time he slipped and let the monster of Wrath loose.

Jacob had been easier to read even considering the cool and distant demeanor. Posture and vernacular said military career, careful speech patterns spoke of both intelligence and pointed restraint, and Darwinian beliefs combined with the classical conditioning he was employing meant he was well-read and clever.

John, on the other hand, switched gears so frequently and with such ease that whenever she thought she had a grasp on him it slipped through her fingers. All she knew about him was that she didn’t know a Goddamn thing about him. One minute he played the calm, considerate man of God and the next he was the embodiment of rage and hate, another he was charismatic and likeable, and the next he was a grotesque caricature of a human being.

They had to have been masks, but the question of which one was the true John Seed remained. Were they just techniques to bend people the way he wanted them to bend, simply more subtle than the closed-fist punch of Jacob’s? A way to drag out the answers he wanted to hear from the people he brought into what amounted to a torture room?

Whatever it was, it was effective—some days she’d seen him pry a confession out of a begging victim before he’d even begun to cut and carve into them.

If she thought about it long enough those confessions actually seemed to aggravate him and she couldn’t put a finger on why, since it was confessions he was after in the first place.

The sadism combined with the chameleon nature of his personality made it easy to ignore the stories of his childhood that she overheard him impart to his victims (and to her, once) as well as the sympathy they dredged up in her, but there was something raw to his anger every time the people he interrogated refused to play by his rules. He would insist that he was trying to help them, that he could free them from the bonds of lies and sin, and why were they fighting that freedom?

Psychotic behavior at its finest, but how much of that was true disposition, and how much of it was a direct result of upbringing, provided those horrific stories were true?

A grunt of exertion leaves her mouth with another push-up; she needs to stop psychoanalyzing the bastard, she knew, but there wasn’t really much else for her to do while she was stuck here waiting for her turns in that chair.

Humming and singing tunes when she was left alone with the rusty smell of blood and phantom screams seeping from the walls around her was her only other pastime aside from trying to pick apart the brain of a madman like she’d been trained to do back at Quantico. Sleeping too much just gave her headaches, and though exercising to the best of her ability gave her something to do it really didn’t do much to stop her from thinking and thinking and overthinking.

Maybe the Rolling Stones had it right, she muses, a strained hum of a familiar tune about sympathizing with the devil leaving her mouth as she continues her routine.

At least she was getting practical experience she could boast about if—when—she got the chance to appeal for her badge.

She wonders if Stevie was having any more luck with figuring out how to stop the Seeds while she counted out her repetitions; so far, she’d had no luck staying away from the bastards long enough to even breathe.

Pausing with her body flat to the ground as the unmistakable, skin-prickling sensation of being watched hits her, she purses her lips.

Wordlessly she resumes, not happy with the burn she was beginning to feel telling her she wasn’t going to be able to do much more. Her captivity with Jacob had taken more out of her than she had realized. “What is it with you boys and staring? It’s fucking rude.”

Sure enough, the voice that responds is exactly the one she expects, preceded first by a disapproving tsk. “That Pride of yours again. Hadn’t you thought that, maybe, I was just waiting for you to finish?”

“I know the feeling of eyes on my back, John.” She replies, her next push-up more strained and slow than the rest; she was shaking with the effort now. “I also know the feeling of eyes on my ass.” With a heavy sigh she pushes herself up to her feet to stretch, lamenting that she’d barely counted half of what she’d been capable of before coming to Hope County.

Baby steps.

John scoffs at the accusation as he crosses the floor towards her. “Every day you make me more certain of the sin my brother suggested you suffered from.”

“Oh, I’m not suffering from it.” Her back pops nicely when she stretches upward as best as she can with the low ceiling of her cell. “You seem to be taking a hell of a lot longer to commit to mine than any of the other victims of your insanity here. Why the delay in mutilating me?”

Not that she wants it—fuck, it’s the last thing she wants.

“Because you have to willingly acknowledge it. You have to want to atone for your sin. You have to say yes.” He says, and she lifts an eyebrow at his failure to deny the mutilation comment. Considering his convictions—otherwise decent—she’d have expected him to defend his methods.

Her shoulder begins to ache, aggravated by her exercising in spite of the injury he’d given her by tipping the chair she’d been bound to over in a rage. She rolls it, folds her arms over her chest, and then in a completely deadpan voice says: “No.”

The change is immediate; he steps closer to her cell, fury in every hard line of his body.

She goes rigid. It’s a miracle she manages to not step away in reflex, but her knuckles go white where they grip her upper arms and she has to swallow the sudden stone in her throat.

John was nowhere near as physically imposing as Jacob was but his unpredictability made him every bit as dangerous—not that her constant and conscious attempts to provoke him were doing her any favors in that regard. Stop playing with fire, Quinn.

Their tense staring contest is broken by him first, and she watches as he storms over to the workbench she’d grown painfully familiar with in the last few days as he lost patience for her glib attitude and games. With an angry roar he places his hands on the edge of the bench and shoves, tipping it over and sending it crashing to the floor. All the tools stacked and lined up on its surface clatter to the ground and either roll or bounce away.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at the workbench. Silently she scratches out her previous mental assessment of his physical capability; clearly, his lean frame was deceptive.

Then a quiet ting near her feet catches her attention and she looks down, blinking at the sight of a thin screwdriver that had rolled from the bench and bumped into the bars of her cell. Adrenaline pulses through her veins at the sight and she quickly lifts her eyes back to John, schooling her features and praying he wouldn’t notice it lying there. Please, for once, let my luck turn out in my favor.

He doesn’t turn away from the workbench immediately, but once he’s apparently collected himself he returns to her, smile all teeth. “This could be so much easier if you just bared your Pride and let me free you from it.” He hisses.

“I already told you,” she says carefully, licking her lips and not missing the way his expression flickers and eyes follow the motion, “I’m not interested in being saved and I’m definitely not interested in baring myself to you.”

Wait—fuck.

She wastes half a second hoping he didn’t notice the accidental entendre, but the way his fury is fully doused and replaced by a heat of a different kind has her swearing a blue streak internally. He leans forward, hands on the bars of her cell and expression now an open leer. “My, my, Agent, where did your mind go just now?”

Oh, no, he was not going to stick her with the Scarlet fucking Letter. “Get bent you son of a bitch.”

“And Wrath makes an appearance as well! My dear, you must have a lot to own up to that’s just aching to come out.” He laughs, and her skin prickles. “I could help you with that. You just. Have to. Say. Yes.”

Christ, he’d circled through about half a dozen personalities and attitudes within the span of just five minutes—whether she’d been napping in the dirt and starving or not, she was starting to miss Jacob. At least he was consistent.

Her mouth opens, scathing comment ready to go, but before she can get the words out there’s a hiss of loud static from the two-way attached to his belt. “John. You there?” Gooseflesh ripples over her skin and she shivers, recognizing Jacob’s voice and trying not to wonder what the odds were that he’d contact John right after she’d thought about him.

The smile on John’s face drops and his jaw ticks; without breaking eye contact he reaches for the radio and clicks the receiver. “I’m busy, brother.”

“Stop being busy.” Jacob says, and Quinn has to chew on her lip to keep the mild laughter that bubbles in her throat from the flat disregard in his voice. “You’ve got a problem heading in your direction.”

A lightness settles in her chest at Jacob’s words that she fights to keep from showing; the only real problem the Cult had been dealing with in recent events, so far as what she’d heard from Eli and the Whitetails, was one determined as hell and very pissed off Stevie Brewin, who had in just two months managed to light a fire under the local Resistance’s ass.

John stares at her for a long moment before finally stepping back, pointing at her with the antenna of the radio and smiling easily. “I have business to take care of, it seems—don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

She says nothing, watching him with sharp eyes while he leers at her and hoping that karma would smack him in the face in the form of tripping over one of the tools he’d sent scattered across the floor while walking backwards. When he finally turns away, unfortunately skipping the delightful opportunity for schadenfreude, she listens to his footsteps fade away as he disappears down a stairwell beyond a grated dividing wall.

There was no way for her to tell if he’d just been fucking with her by saying he’d return, but either way she was going to be balancing a fine line here. If she waited too long, she risked running into him on his way back, and if she didn’t wait long enough she risked running into him before he’d even really left.

She won’t let herself consider he wasn’t planning on going far at all and she’d have nowhere to slip past him anyway.

Tense as a board she counts out two minutes before scrambling for the fallen screwdriver at the foot of her cell and then setting to work on forcing the lock on the door open. It’s a long shot, but in a relieving upturn of her luck it works.

Resisting the urge to toss the tool away and just book it, she instead slowly slides the door open and gently sets it aside. There’s a knife on the floor ahead of her, tossed along with all of John’s other tools, and she quickly snatches it up. There was one other door in the room opposite the direction he’d left in, but it’s locked fast and requires some kind of key—one that John probably kept on his person rather than floating around.

Unhappy about it, she turns and follows after John.

The landing at the bottom of the stairs leads to an industrial room like his workshop, this one packed with crates and shelves of stored tools and supplies. All of it was stark and military in appearance, an orderly form of chaos, adding to her confusion as to where in the hell she was; this hardly seemed like the kind of place a man like John with his fancy shirts and designer shades would willingly spend time in.

It sort of made sense considering his clear and disturbing fondness for torture, but that left the supplies—she doubted he needed so many just for getting his rocks off by cutting a few people open. Her gut feeling said that, no, this place had nothing to do with John’s extracurricular activities.

There’s an open door up ahead, blocked by a cultist looking out into the hall beyond; she waits, watching and hoping she didn’t plan on standing there until John returned. Luckily, she turns around and Quinn quickly doubles back, ducking under a shelf at a near-crawl and bypassing the unaware cultist entirely.

Exposed pipes, stark metal, and solid concrete walls that almost reminded her of manufacturing facilities and laboratories, hoses and power wires crisscrossing the floors, and a few open pipes large enough for her to crouch and move through to dodge more cultists all became familiar sights to her as she moves through the facility quietly and unseen.

A lot of the Peggies were working, packing away boxes and taking inventory of their contents, moving equipment into different rooms and occasionally stopping to gossip about their boss. Much as she’d like to stop and snoop, she wasn’t about to risk her chance at getting free. Learning about the Seeds wasn’t at all worth getting found out and either shot full of holes or dragged back to John’s workshop. She’d already pushed him far enough, and that would just give him an excuse to get even more aggressive in forcing a confession out of her.

What gives her heavy pause and leaves her with an ill feeling in her stomach is the sight of repurposed sections of hallways, blocked by metal gates, with groups of shaking people huddled with in. If she weren’t a lone woman armed with nothing but a knife and her wits and had some idea of where she was going, she could take the time to try and free them.

Her stomach twists as she does, but she ignores them all and continues moving, careful to stick to the shadows as she moves up a flight of stairs and filing away a growing suspicion that whatever this place was, it had something to do with the Collapse the Cult seemed so obsessed with.

Sneaking around Jacob’s operations up in the mountains with Jess had served her well—save for a few close calls where one of the cultists catch a glimpse of something skulking around she manages to avoid confrontation through a dozen rooms and up another flight of stairs without much struggle.

Any of them that did happen to spot her moving around in the shadows just mumble something about too much Bliss before simply returning to work. Apparently the Cult’s best brainwashing weapon was also a double-edged sword.

As she passes another doorway a familiar voice catches her attention and she pauses; ultimately it’s the sight of the bow and quiver she’d nicked from one of Jacob’s hunters in the room beyond that alters her path into the room. It’s empty save for a few pipes stretching from the floor to the ceiling in one corner and a workbench up against the wall, next to which sat her recurve and quiver.

Her radio is nowhere to be found, but that doesn’t surprise her.

She carefully slinks past an open doorway with a soft glow lighting the floor from within and quietly slings both her bow and quiver over her back.

The she refocuses on the voice, John’s smooth tone coming from the room she’d just passed by and now returns to, hiding just beyond the frame and peeking inside. His back is to her as he leans over a desk in the center of the room, a single desk lamp illuminating whatever it was he was staring at and throwing enough ambient light for her to see what looked like a facility map taped up between the rows of obsolete screens and computers lining the walls.

Some kind of security hub, maybe, but all she cares about is the map and it’s what she focuses on with intent as she listens in on him.

“—is why Joseph is so insistent these two need to be converted to our cause, or why they should be important to us at all. We’re expending a lot of effort and people trying and all the while they’re helping the Resistance undermine our efforts.” She’d missed the first half of his statement, but she frowns at the half she does hear.

Joseph wanted her and Stevie to be part of the Project? Well that had a snowball’s chance in hell of happening—Quinn would sooner stab herself in the eye, and she knows Stevie well enough to know they’d be in agreement on that front.

“It doesn’t matter. You know how he gets when the Voice is involved.” Jacob says, clear disinterest in his voice even through the wash of static that distorts it. That catches her interest, however—did Jacob not actually believe in Joseph’s overarching goal for the Project?

It was far beyond a long shot, but she wonders what the possibility was they could convert him.

John lets out a scoff. “Your lack of faith in Joseph’s gift never ceases to astound me, Jacob.”

“You’re the one asking why.” Ever the dutiful soldier, it seemed, if Joseph gave the order and Jacob followed whether he believed or not. “The Deputy’ll reach the south gatehouse in the next few hours unless she deviates.”

“Hours? I thought you said your hunters last saw her by the ranger station?”

“Apparently she knows how to hotwire.”

Damn. Quinn makes a note to ask Stevie to teach her that trick; spending three days dodging Jacob’s hunters on foot just to reach another section of the County had been the exact opposite of fun.

Speaking of—

She stands from where she’d been crouched by the doorway and lets out a sharp whistle just as John presses the receiver on the radio. He whirls around and she grins at the look of bewilderment on his face. “Hey, you mind pointing me in the direction of the restroom? I think I’m a bit lost.”

This was so fucking stupid, but totally, one-hundred-percent worth watching the gears in his head struggle to get back up to speed.

The second his expression turns some mixture of impressed and wickedly amused she shoots him a cheeky two-fingered salute and then turns and bolts, a wild smile on her face as she goes. He gives chase immediately, heavy footfalls following after her as the industrial architecture of the facility blurs around her.

She jukes around cultists on her way through, following the map to the best of her memory and hoping she’d gotten a long enough look to be heading for the entrance; they all shout in alarm as she passes, silenced shortly after by loud thumps and crashing that tells her John wasn’t bothering to be nearly as careful as he followed her.

He was taller than her and had longer strides, but even with her diminished health and knowing she was on an endurance clock that would’ve made her instructors cry, she was faster and had freerunning—one of her hobbies—on her side.

The distance between them begins to grow, and he seems to realize he was losing ground. “You’re only making this more difficult, my dear!”

“Difficult for who? You sound out of breath!” She calls back, darting through a doorway and nearly running over another Peggie; they were starting to look more urgent, and that meant the ones they’d already passed had radioed ahead. Things were about to get more difficult.

Without slowing she jumps directly for the solid wall that greets her past the open doorway and plants a foot on it, pushing off at an angle and taking the sharp turn without losing speed.

“I will catch you!” He yells. She’d expected him to sound angry or frustrated, but instead he just sounded invigorated. He was having fun.

Her intent had been to piss him off and the fact she’d misjudged and failed spectacularly should have frustrated her.

It didn’t. She was having fun, too.

A doorway halfway down the hall up ahead would take her to the facility exit if her memory served her well, but she’s forced to skid to a complete halt to make the turn with no wall to bounce off of. Even with the immediate push forward she still feels a rush of air just behind her as John misses her by inches.

Alright, so he was bad at cornering but really good at open sprints. Noted.

Through the doorway she sees a large room littered with stacks of more crates and boxes, and the sheer size of whatever operation this was suddenly occurs to her; they were really digging in for something, and Quinn wonders where the line blurred between paranoia and preparation.

Two Peggies are startled at her sudden appearance, both standing on opposite sides of a stack of crates half her height.

John yells for them to grab her and the two step forward to intercept, ready for her to try and dodge around—instead, she leaps directly for the stack of crates, slapping her hands down onto the surface and expertly vaulting right between them.

Maneuvering around the rest of the room slows her down, but when she breaks through the organized chaos into the open landing, only one cultist between her and a stairwell that would lead her to freedom, she’s still moving fast.

Fast enough for her to drop her shoulder and body slam the cultist into the wall near the stairs. He collapses, wheezing and nearly dragging her down with a desperate grab for her shoulders but she skips back, spinning and taking the stairs two at a time.

Her lungs were starting to burn uncomfortably. Just a bit further, she reminds herself.

Footsteps echo after her up the stairs, and those four simple words become a mantra.

When she reaches the final landing of the absurdly tall stairwell—no windows, industrial, tons of bulkheads, were they underground?—she sequesters the bud of victory that starts to form in her chest. A false sense of security would be her worst enemy when this would be the most dangerous stretch of her escape.

Brilliant sunlight nearly blinds her as she bursts through a final bulkhead, thick metal door ahead of her ajar and beckoning her forward.

She nearly tumbles right over the edge of the raised landing outside the door, forced to quickly redirect and move for a ramp that led down to the flat, open ground of the yard in front of her. It’s a loading bay, littered with even more scattered supplies and a semi-trailer parked back up against the raised landing. A trio of white pickups were lined up ahead with their sides facing her.

She could risk checking for keys in the trucks, but she’d already gone beyond pushing her luck by taunting John rather than fleeing silently and without attracting attention. If her dad were here, he’d definitely be giving her one hell of a disappointed stare for the impulsive decision.

“There! She’s there!”

“Don’t shoot her, the Father wants her alive!”

“Aim for her legs!”

Not only did that sound hellishly unpleasant, one good shot to her legs would put her right back at square one, incapacitated and ready to be dragged back down into the depths and right back into John’s hands.

She glances around, noting the wire fence penning in the area, the opening flanked by gatehouses up ahead, and the trio of heavily-armored cultists blocking the exit—and her eyes settle on the line of trucks.

Alright, so this wasn’t her most brilliant of ideas, ever, but it was better than making a fool of herself by getting all the way to the end of the line only to have nowhere to run.

The first shot rings out across the yard and spurs her forward.

A stack of crates unloaded next to the nearest truck is used as a springboard to launch her up onto the wall of the truckbed, and from there she hops up onto the cab and then across each of the trucks with the thought in her head that Frogger was a hell of a lot less fun than she remembered.

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“Go! Go around!”

When she reaches the third truck she braces herself and then leaps, clearing the barbed wire topping the yard fence by scant inches. Her heart drifts into her throat as the freefall grips at her, the sound of more gunfire breaking the silence of the surrounding forest and sending nearby flocks of birds into panicked flight.

Pain flares up her leg as she lands, the force of her fall sending her sprawling; a noise of pain leaves her, but she forces herself back to her feet and keeps running, pouring every ounce of speed into her burning limbs and ignoring her tiring lungs.

One of the cultist’s bullets finds its mark and she stumbles as fire erupts in her arm, more pain that through sheer force of will is ignored in favor of running. It’s not a bliss bullet, or she wouldn’t have made it to the trees—the only dizziness she feels is purely the result of a tiring body begging her to slow down and stop.

She’s pursued into the woods, frantic shouts and barked orders and gunfire that causes her to instinctively duck as she runs as quickly as she dares down a slope following after her. The forest thickens as she goes, giving her more cover as she ducks in and around trees and bushes as often as possible.

After what felt like an eternity the sounds of pursuit leave her behind, fading farther and farther back until she feels comfortable enough to duck and hide under a rocky outcropping in the sloped landscape; the shade does little to ease the inferno in her blood from so much exertion and sweat drips down the side of her face.

It’s a struggle to calm her breathing as she waits, hating the way her tired limbs start to shake.

Five minutes pass. Distant but still too-close-for-comfort shouts from John’s followers reach her ears. Their hair raising calls of “come out, little girl!” and “play nice and we will!” do nothing to assist in calming her.

Ten minutes. Footsteps crunch in the underbrush on sticks and dry leaves nearby. None approach.

Fifteen.

“She’s gone.”

“Damnit. I’m not telling him.”

“Quit complaining. All of you head back, I’m checking ahead.”

The other voices drift off along with the groups of footsteps she’d been hearing until only one is left; her body is starting to shake more with the adrenaline fading and it’s a struggle to keep upright as she listens with bated breath.

The steps drift towards her hiding spot. Her eyes narrow.

With her body so unsteady she has no idea if she’ll be able to accomplish what she needs to if she’s found, but she steels herself for it anyway. The bow would make too much noise if she tried to slide it off her back in the quiet woods, so she instead reaches for the knife she’d tucked under her belt back in the bunker.

She holds completely still, keeping her breathing as even and quiet as she possibly can when a pair of booted feet enter her vision to the left of the rocky outcropping.

What she assumes is one of John’s Chosen steps fully into her sight, passing her completely without even bothering to check behind the outcropping. Fucking idiot. He stands there scanning the area; her knuckles are white where they grip the knife.

When he does finally turn around his gaze settles on her with a startled expression; she springs forward with a snarl, jamming her knife into his throat before he can lift the gun in his hands, surprising both him and herself for two very different reasons. His eyes widen and the gun drops from his hands, clattering to the loose dirt and leaves between them, one of his hands fisting in her hair in dying fury and yanking.

A yelp of pain leaves her and her fingers slip from the knife when his other hand snaps around her throat—a single painful squeeze is all he can manage before his grip on her slackens and gaze goes distant, her hair and her throat both released as he collapses to the ground on his back in a twitching heap.

She stumbles back on unsteady feet, falling back onto her ass and watching with something she can only describe in the moment as horror while he grasps furiously at the blade in his throat until his movements slow and eventually stop, blood still leaking around the sharp edge of the weapon and bubbling in his throat.

Nausea rises in her own and she sucks in a sharp breath, pressing her lips together tightly to keep herself from retching at the sight of the still body and glassy eyes laid out in front of her.

She’d wanted to be an FBI agent since she was a teenager—still did. She’d known from the beginning that there was a more than high possibility that her choice of field would lead to her having to kill someone at some point, but she hadn’t ever expected it to be like this. Not even when the stories Eli had told her gave her an idea of what Jacob might have been trying to do with her, not even when she’d been up in the mountains helping the Whitetails—that had been at a distance, cold and impersonal. It still made her sick at first, but it had been getting easier to deal with.

Suddenly, that decent ease she’d begun to grow with killing meant absolutely nothing, and she felt like she’d just made her first kill again. This was up close, she’d been near enough to see the life leave the man’s eyes, and she decides immediately that she does not fucking like it.

Worse was knowing that, sooner or later, she was going to have to get used to this as well. She’d been lucky up in the mountains and had a partner watching her back, both of them taking enemies down at a distance.

This wasn’t going to be the only time she was going to be on her own and at risk.

Swallowing, she gathers her wits and stands, moving forward with palpable hesitation and reaching down to grasp the handle; her shoulder flares with pain as she pulls it out with a sickening, wet noise. More bile rises in her throat at the immediate gush of more blood from the wound without something blocking it.

Pulling arrows from corpses was no different. It wasn’t, but no matter how many times it runs through her head her skin still crawls.

It’s only knowing that the longer she sticks around the likelier it is she’ll be found and that she was up shit creek without the metaphorical paddle—paddle being supplies—that gives her the constitution to search the body for anything she can use. She has to avoid looking at the man’s face in order to do so.

A pair of throwing knives are both tucked into her boots. Nothing in the way of food or water are on his person, but she’s not surprised considering she’d caught them all of guard.

It was still worrying. She was who knew how many miles from any semblance of civilization, and between the marathon she’d just run and the bullet wound on her arm she risked dehydration at least.

Hell, she’d be lucky if she could make it anywhere between the wound and the ache in her ankle that was more prominent in her mind without the adrenaline and urgency keeping her focus elsewhere, and that wasn’t taking into account the exhaustion that was going to settle over her quickly now.

There’s a radio clipped to his belt, and having decided that she’s not going to find anything else truly useful, she snatches it off him with quick fingers and steps away. Her eyes drift around as she tries to get her bearings and decide a direction to go; if she keeps lingering, it was tantamount to her just turning around and walking right back into John’s hands.

And she didn’t go through all this for nothing.

She lingers long enough to rip a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and tie a makeshift tourniquet around her bicep just above the bullet wound, and ultimately she decides to simply follow the ravine she’s in downhill. Ravines meant water erosion, and if she was lucky she would wander across a body of water at some point. The question was whether or not she’d get to one before passing out.

After an hour of walking, her ankle slowly paining her more and more, she was struggling to motivate herself to keep going rather than finding a bush to just lay down and rest. Despite the tourniquet there’s a slow trickle of blood that’s doing her no favors, either.

Come home. Come home. Come home.

She hesitates, staring with blurry, blinking eyes up at the bridge spanning the gap of the ravine fifty feet above her. The sun was starting to set and more than the exhaustion itself—or maybe a direct result of it—the thought kept creeping into her head. Come home. Jacob’s voice was like a ghostly whisper in her ear and she sways with indecision.

She sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to make it back to the Veteran’s Center from here, but maybe if she went back to John—

Holy fucking shit.

Her head shakes rapidly to break the thoughts in her head, a shaky breathe leaving her and the motion making her even dizzier. Jesus, Tammy had been right. He gets into your head, she had told her, venomous and warning, there’s no avoiding it. No matter how long you’re with him. He gets into your head.

The knowledge that within three weeks he’d been able to plant control into her brain leaves her disturbed. What would he have been able to accomplish if she’d been there longer?

She’s too tired to be ashamed of the startled yelp that leaves her when a voice crackles through static on the radio clipped to her belt. “Brayden, do you copy?” It’s not John, just another of the Peggies.

Her fingers grasp the radio and unclip it, and she wars with the same thoughts—come home come home come home—as she stares at it and debates on responding. She could be a petty little shit and taunt them, but she has no idea how far she’d actually managed to get away from John’s bunker and she didn’t want to give them the idea that she was still nearby.

The voice that wasn’t her own told her that was exactly what she wanted to do.

“Brayden, do you copy? We need an update. Are you tracking her?”

Definitely the guy she’d killed. With him not responding they were probably going to suspect foul play and send a group out to look for him—and, by extension, her. Ignoring the voice that sounded suspiciously like a red-haired, blue-eyed wolf of a man, she decides she needs to get oriented and find somewhere safe that wasn’t with John.

With the sun setting she’d be at one hell of a disadvantage if they were still out looking for her. She’d never been taught to navigate by stars, and she was alone with no supplies and no idea if there was any shelter nearby.

It was looking more and more like her luck had been used up by managing to dodge Jacob’s hunters for nearly a week after this nightmare had begun, and Lady Luck had wiggled a glimmer of it in front of her nose with this escape only to take it away again.

Blinking down at the radio, she switches the frequency to one she hopes wasn’t too far out of range. “Eli, this is Quinn. Are you there?”

Only her footsteps as she resumes her unsteady and slowed walking pace answer her at first, and she starts to doubt that she could still reach the Militia out here. She’s about to press the button to try again when she finally gets a response. “Shit, Quinn, is that really you? Jess told us what happened, we’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks!”

His voice is slightly garbled, likely a result of the distance, but it’s unmistakably Wheaty on the other end. She sighs in relief. “It’s me, Wheaty. Good to hear you.” Then what he said gives her pause. “How long was I dark?”

“A little over two weeks, after that ambush. Hey, you’re breaking up real bad—where are you?”

It couldn’t hurt to share the wildly general area, considering she truly had no idea. “Somewhere in Holland Valley, I think.”

“You don’t know?”

“I just spent two weeks held captive underground, so no. That’s why I’m contacting you guys. I need help getting my bearings.”

There’s a longer pause and she assumes that Wheaty was processing what she’d told him or looking for a map, but the next voice that speaks is the one that she’d called for in the first place. “John got hold of you?” Eli must have been listening in and had chosen then to cut in. She feels a momentary pang of regret for interrupting whatever he might’ve been working on, but the concern in his voice soothes it somewhat.

“He did. I’m okay, Eli, just exhausted. I gave him a swift metaphorical kick in the nuts on my way out, so it was worth it.”

“You and the Deputy are something special, Quinn. Been at this resistance thing for years but none of us have been able to kick over the Cult’s sandcastles the way both of you have in just a few months.” Eli says, amused and relieved in equal measure. “Can you give me some landmarks to work with? Get to high ground if you can.”

She’d already anticipated the request and had—with difficulty thanks to both her leg and arm—begun to scale the hillside of the ravine she’d been traversing, wary of the open road and bridge she’d just bypassed. Once at the top she squints at the mountainside to her right and the waning colors of sunset. “I’m facing south right now, been traveling through a ravine down the mountain I think.”

She’ll need to get moving as soon as Eli gives her a direction to go in, now. This was an unsecured frequency the Whitetails monitored, and anyone could’ve been listening in.

Scanning her environment, she lists off anything noteworthy she can see; a lone church down by a small lake, spire just barely peeking up over the top of the trees, what looked like an airfield somewhere to her southeast, plus the bridge she’d just passed, and—

She blinks, having turned around to see if there was anything behind her and suddenly wondering if the blood loss was causing her to hallucinate visually as well as audibly. There above the trees was a massive Hollywood-style billboard featuring exactly three letters: YES.

What. The. Fuck.

When she realizes she’s keeping Eli waiting she clicks the receiver down, unable to tear her eyes away from the sign. “I—there’s a big ‘Yes’ sign up in the mountain northeast of me.” Really, John?

Eli doesn’t comment on the billboard and she almost wishes he would—it’d make the surreality of what she was looking at make her feel just a bit more grounded. “Can’t tell exactly where you’re at, kid, but in a general sense keep heading southeast. I remember right, Grace Armstrong is holed up somewhere near the foot of the hill you’re on.”

She winces, heading carefully back down into the ravine. “Thanks, Eli. Hey, I’m on a stolen radio right now ‘cause John took mine, so I don’t have the encryption channels anymore. Until you can swap out the keys, avoid details on the radio.”

“Got it. Damn miracle they haven’t intercepted us yet.”

“Yeah.” She says. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Put a bullet in John and help your friend put a few in Jacob and we’ll call it even.”

She laughs, feeling light in her chest and unsettled by the fact she can’t tell if it’s from the blood loss or exhaustion or she was just happy to hear from someone friendly. “Will do, Eli. Quinn out.”

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — for PURGEEEE

Y E S 

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

The rattling stopped, and Tsukishima’s legs turned to lead as he clutched the mess of old receipts in his hand.

Dammit. Damn everything. This was the third time he’d done this in the past week, but it didn’t get any less jarring.

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold as he looked to the empty table–or, where the table used to be. His throat made some humiliating, choking noise, as if he’d been punched as soon as the words had fallen from his mouth. Pitiful, ugly.

Oh.

Right.

No one answered his half-question, and his voice echoed cringingly into the emptiness of the house. No one was home to hear him. No one would ever be there again, so why he kept fucking asking, he wasn’t sure.

He could only get used to the isolation so fast, he supposed.

His fingers stilled in their rummaging through the kitchen drawer, clutching hopelessly at stray pens and sticky notes full of his father’s terrible handwriting.

Simple, mundane reminders. The most innocent of things.

Milk. Doctor’s appointment. Car wash. Call gardener.

They were laughable almost, so boring, but so unreal. To think the man who had once scribbled down such useless, everyday reminders would have the capacity to….

Tsukishima held his breath, and his lungs constricted quickly, like they hadn’t contained enough air to begin with. But Tsukishima was stubborn, so stubborn, and he held his breath for the full twenty seconds, willing himself to calm down before the emotions bothered to set in at all.

Thinking about those things got him nowhere, and he knew that. It was a waste of time, to linger on things which he knew he’d relive in his nightmares anyways. His therapist told him he needed to maintain some semblance of peace, so Tsukishima restricted his depressed musings to the one hour weekly slot, and didn’t bother with it the rest of the time.

Maybe not the healthiest, but it was better than never talking about it at all.

Exhaling should’ve felt like a relief, but it burned, and Tsukishima grimaced, defiantly slamming the drawer shut with enough force to carry the sound through the home.

Home.

House.

Home felt too close, too soothing. His house was anything but, with it’s bleak, grey walls, lack of furniture, and absence of framed photos. Well, almost.

Tsukishima didn’t have the nerve to take down the old, gaudy car shots. They may have belonged to his dad, but he needed some color. The grey got too suffocating, after a while. If he could go back to the day they’d all decided on the color as a family, he’d change his vote.

Looking at the table one last time, he shrugged, he decided he didn’t need the kitchen’s lighter, the item he’d been searching for the past few minutes. He was sure he could find one upstairs somewhere, maybe in Akiteru’s old room.

Or, he’d just forget about lighting his candle. Right then, apathy felt like the best option, and who needed the house to smell like vanilla anyways? It wouldn’t make it any less desolate.

Tsukishima ignored the part of his brain that told him he could just call Akiteru in Europe and ask him where the lighter was, but somehow that didn’t sit right either. His brother’s birthday had just passed a few weeks prior, but so had the anniversary of his accident, and Tsukishima had pledged to avoid his brother’s calls until the month of April had come to a complete end.

Plus, well, he didn’t need to hear Akiteru’s nervous stutters or disappointed sighs as he desperately tried to tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

A week ago, on April 20th, Tsukishima had purged. Nothing more to say there, he’d done what had to be done. Neither of them were pleased about it, and honestly, Tsukishima’s mind and body were still exhausted from the ordeal.

He’d probably worried his brother sick. The guilt stabbed at him again, and he walked to the empty space where the table once sat, sitting slowly on the cold ground. Sometimes, he missed looking over and seeing his brother sitting at the table, cereal bowl in front of him and phone in his hand. He would’ve usually been there, to laugh at a dumb meme or tell Tsukishima where the damn lighter was.

Now he wasn’t. But, Tsukishima finally found a reason for that to be a good thing. At least with the house empty, no one had to be there when he’d stumbled through the door on Purge night. No one had witnessed his panic attacks, his meticulous planning, his bittersweet victory.

And Tsukishima, for all his nightmares and whining, was okay with that.

Briefly, he looked towards his cell phone, lying silently on the counter alongside the stupid, new vanilla candle. He should really just chuck it in the trash, but that would also require getting up, so he’d do it later.

Not even moving to the couch, the only piece of furniture apart from the coffee table which remained on the first floor, seemed like too much effort.

So, he moved to his side, lying flat on the expensive linoleum, and resigned himself to a dreamless sleep.

A Time To Be So Small - Adam/Mohinder [Heroes]

Title: A Time To Be So Small Characters/Pairings: Adam/Mohinder, implied Adam/Hiro Rating: R Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 2x11; explicit sexual content Word Count: 2899 Prompt: #007 - Broken Summary: “He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.” A/N: For the slashyheroes15 Adam claim (here). Suffocated - didn’t know how many times - breathe? No, can’t do that. Brain‘s crawling out of ears, metaphorically speaking, with maggots, they’ve eaten your clothes, that’s not very good. Sunlight would be nice. Good to dream, good to dream. Maybe Saint Nicholas will dig you out, what a nice fellow, on those Coke bottles. Red - blood, stained with white, white stained with red, and it’ll go back where it came from because that’s how the machinery operates. Cracks - whiteness? Was it over now? Couldn’t be, too much to wish for, must keep it simple, like two maggots leaving or for his ear to stop itching. More white. Hallucinating, was what he was doing - wasn’t the first time, he had seen other things, like grateful waterfalls to drink from and fish swimming around in his little birdcage… Too white - --- “Mr. Monroe?” Monroe… one of his aliases; he’d always thought it’d had a sort of dignity to it, he loved stealing from dead historical figures. “Mr. Monroe? Can you hear me?” He opened his eyes - funny, he hadn’t known they’d been closed - and there was too much white, still, but he could make out some sort of dark shape. Too much effort to say anything - useless, anyway - he closed his eyes and fell asleep. --- There was some sort of conversation going on. “How has he been progressing?” asked one voice, it sounded vaguely familiar. “Not very well, I’m afraid,” said another - the one from before, the “Mr. Monroe?” one. “We had prematurely assumed that once he was out in the air again, his cells would begin to regenerate, and although that has happened to some extent… the damage done to his mind might be beyond repair at this point.” There was a pause. “How do you mean?” asked the first voice. “He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.” “So… he’s a clean slate, you’re saying.” “No, not exactly. It‘s a bit more complicated than that.” “Very well. Let me know of any more progress.” Clacking heels left the room, and the blipping of a heart monitor reverberated. --- Water dribbled into his mouth - blessed water, smooth and lovely - and he hacked on it a bit but he managed to get it down. “Good,” said the voice, the nice one, with the soothing lilt. “Your body’s almost finished regenerating, Mr. Monroe. You’ll be up and about in no time.” He opened his eyes a crack - still too white, bright, searing, but he could make out more of the dark shape this time - the outline of curls, the contour of a face. He tried to say something - didn’t know what he would have said - but he couldn’t; it hurt too much. “Here. Have some more water,” the voice said, and helpfully poured more of it into his mouth. It took another few tries, but then he could feel his vocal chords knitting back together, could feel them healing, regenerating, until they were whole again, and God it felt so good. “The maggots,” he rasped. “The… the maggots?” “They took my clothes, and they tore them up, you see. They used them in their sacrificial rituals…” There was a bit of silence, until the voice said, “Perhaps you’ll start making sense in the morning.” --- Dear God, the hunger. He clenched his stomach - pain -  he might’ve shouted something; he didn’t know what - There was a startled shuffling from the corner of the room - scrambling - and some food was placed before him, which he gobbled up instantly. “Are you okay?” asked the voice, concerned, and he nodded, although he wasn’t. “Are you sure?” He nodded again. “Very well.” The voice walked away - he looked over, finally, and managed to catch the back of his head before he left the room. It was easier to see now - the man had too many curls, black and silky. He laid his head back down and gazed listlessly at his empty plate, at the gray walls and the wheels on the bottom of his gurney. He could escape easily, if he wanted to, but it was nice here, and the man with the soothing voice gave him odd comfort. He was slowly regaining sense - it couldn’t have been more than two days since he’d gotten here (not that he could tell, really, time had become a sort of illusory thing to him), and his brain didn’t feel quite so curly and crawly and maggot-infested. He still had fish hallucinations from time to time, however. There was one waving at him from the doorway, and he turned on his side to ignore it. What a bothersome little pest. --- “I don’t even understand why we’re keeping him alive.” “Dr. Suresh - ” “Do you really think putting him back in a cell is going to stop him? If he tried to release the virus, who knows what else he’s capable of doing?” “I assure you, we have contingencies. Adam’s going to be locked in a completely isolated cell this time - no one is even going to go near him except for a few select, trusted people… one of which will be you, doctor.” “Me? Why?” “We’re going to need you to monitor his progress, to see if he ever fully regains his memory. Though I must warn you - Adam is very manipulative. If you even suspect for a second that he’s faking his insanity, you tell me right away. Don’t get sucked into his delusions of grandeur. Okay?” “Of course.” “Good.” The fish was smirking. He glared at it. --- His eyes were fully adjusted now, and he watched this Dr. Suresh periodically walk in the room, check his heart-rate and do other sorts of clinical things, with an idle detached-ness. How long would it be until Dr. Suresh betrayed him - didn’t mercifully kill him, and instead let him rot in another prison cell like the other person wanted (he thought it was Bob, but he couldn’t be sure). Although, he wasn’t certain if it was even possible to kill him, short of chopping off his head. Maybe he could even resurrect from that. You could never truly rely on a hypothesis until it was tested, after all… “How are you feeling?” Suresh asked, as was routine. “Keep an eye on the maggots,” he replied, as was also routine. “They’ll grow into cockroaches.” --- “How’s the patient?” “He’s been improving at a rapid rate. His body has finished regenerating, although I’m not sure his mind has completely healed itself yet. He is speaking more coherently, although what he’s saying is still nonsense. He keeps talking about maggots turning into cockroaches.” “I don’t trust it. Adam would be just the type to fake insanity in order to garner sympathy, or for some other reason. I say we put him in the isolated cell tomorrow.” Suresh said nothing, but Adam saw him give a small nod out of the corner of his eye. I wish you would just kill me, he thought, but didn’t say, because clearly no one was ever going to allow him just this one small favor. --- The fish had decided to lay down in the corner and stare at him all day, now that they were both trapped in this isolated cell far from human contact. Except for Suresh, who popped in every once in a while. For someone who wanted him dead, Suresh seemed oddly concerned about his well-being. He brought him food and asked him how he was and made sure the sheets were changed now and again. Adam didn’t feel quite sane yet - he never was, he thinks, and he never will be - but he was a little better, and now that he was, he needed to think of some way out of here. It was better than before - of course it was, anything was better than the place that will not be named - but still not enough, too boring, and no one to talk to besides that bloody fish who never talked back to him anyway. Of course, that’s when the thing decided to say, “You should be here. You’re too dangerous,” and of course the thing sounded exactly like Hiro, and he wanted to throw something at it but there were no throwable objects in the room, so he just glared and turned over on his bed. “Mr. Monroe?” The light outside turned on, and Suresh stood in front of the large window, clipboard held faithfully at his side. “Yes?” He sat up, and ignored the petulant looks Hiro-fish was giving him. “We need some of your blood,” Suresh said, and he seemed almost apologetic. “Someone has been severely injured on an assignment, and we need your blood to heal them.” He shrugged. “As though you need my permission. It’s the only reason you’ve kept me alive, isn’t it?” Suresh pursed his lips. “It would appear so,” he said, as though he disapproved of this, but he kept his opinions to himself and pressed the button to enter the cell. “How long has it been, Dr. Suresh?” Adam asked as Suresh took a needle out of his pocket. “How long has it been since I’ve been in here? I’ve lost track of time.” “Four months,” he said, and looked at Adam’s arm expectantly. He held it out, and Suresh began the preparations. “Four months. Not too long, then. My mind seems to have slipped away somewhat. Wonder where it is… perhaps it’s only popped out for a bit, and it’s going to come back later. When do you think it will be back, Dr. Suresh?” “I’m… I’m not sure. It might never return, if it hasn’t fully healed at this point.” He bit his lip, and Adam stared, old desires frothing back to the surface. “That’s a shame. I rather enjoyed having a semblance of sanity. How does it feel to be sane, doctor? Does it feel good? I wish I could remember.” Suresh didn’t reply, and began to draw Adam’s blood into the needle. “We’ll be putting this in an IV later.” “Jolly good.” Adam hummed to himself as Suresh continued to draw the blood, fairies dancing on his brain. “You always ask me how I am. Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?” “How are you, Mr. Monroe?” Suresh asked obligingly, now done with the needle and pulling away. “You can call me Adam. And the maggots have left, but the fish is still here.” “That’s nice,” he said absently. He looked at the large window for no apparent reason, and said, “I should go.” “Won’t you stay? I do enjoy companionship,” he purred, desires now pouring over the surface. The fish swam further into the corner and closed its eyes. Didn’t want to watch, the prude. Suresh faltered. “I… no. That’s not a good idea.” “It would be completely innocent, I assure you.” “I’m sorry. I have to go.” And he did, the tease, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Adam fell back against his pillow, a tad frustrated. The fish snickered at him quietly. --- God, he wanted. He was sure that it was unintentional on Suresh’s part, but with every flick of his eyes, every casual brush of curls out of his face, every mild sigh - it sent him ablaze with want, and no matter how hard he tried, Suresh wouldn’t succumb. The Hiro-fish tsked at him from the corner (God, even a fish with Hiro’s voice was trying to be his conscience) as he got off with a whimper, and he politely told the fish to go fuck itself. Or him, if it was feeling generous. The fish declined, and he felt disappointed, because even fucking a figment of his imagination with Hiro’s voice would have been nearly as good as the real thing. Although the fact that it was a fish would’ve been mildly disturbing, but it was his warped mind that was creating these images and he could turn the fish into whatever he damn well pleased. He concentrated, trying to turn the fish (oh God, it was a carp, wasn’t it?) into a submitting Hiro-human, but the fish stubbornly continued to remain a fish, and Adam was kind of getting tired of all of this fish nonsense so he started wanking again. And of course Suresh comes walking in at that precise moment, a completely shocked expression on that pretty face of his. “Want to join in on the fun?” Adam suggested, looking up, stroking himself faster. The pleasure came through in shockwaves as he watched Suresh watch him - Suresh couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away; his pupils were a little dilated, and dear God it was all making the want even worse - better, even. He moaned loudly, his cock throbbing, his head thrown back, still watching Suresh, who was gulping and seemed to be rooted to the spot. “Don’t be shy,” Adam said softly. Suresh clearly wanted to say something - but no noise made its way out of his mouth. He jerked himself closer, almost involuntarily… Adam moaned again and stroked harder, the conflicted look on Suresh’s face making the pleasure shoot through his nerves, almost making him fly into some other plane of existence. Suresh seemed out of himself as well. His fingers slowly fumbled at his fly, un-zipping, and he began stroking himself also, and Adam was about ready to explode - which he did, in a sense; he came all over the bedspread with a shout, which made Suresh groan and swallow and his knees buckled a little bit. “Get over here,” Adam commanded hoarsely, shaking with anticipation. “I - I can’t,” he gasped. “Fine.” He stood up, still shaking, and walked over to Suresh, slamming his lips against his, wrapping his fingers around the hand that was stroking Suresh’s cock. “I can’t - do this - ” Suresh said brokenly, but Adam shushed him, and rubbed his cock against Suresh’s inner thigh, making him convulse and gasp again, such a pretty sound. Before long, they were on the bed - shouts - skin sliding against skin, heavy pants and long, drawn out moans, curls tangled in slim fingers and come everywhere - smooth, naked - ecstasy that rose up from down there into chests, releasing itself through cries of more and groans and groans and whimpers. The fish seemed to have disappeared (good riddance, the pest), and Adam fell panting against the pillow when it was all over, Suresh lying next to him, thunderstruck and in disbelief, but pretty disbelief, curls sticking to his face. “This cannot happen again,” Suresh said. Adam didn’t answer, just said, “What’s your name?” Suresh hesitated. “Mohinder,” he said, and Adam smiled. Getting out of here was going to be a piece of cake. --- “Tell me, Mohinder,” said Adam when Suresh came back the next day with some food, determinedly not looking at him, “do you ever get the feeling that the Company may not have the best of intentions?” “I don’t appreciate your attempts to manipulate me, you know,” he said, still not looking at him. “I’m not manipulating you. It’s just a simple question.” Suresh finally looked at him, an angry, pulsating fire in his eyes. “Really? Then why are you asking a question that could easily lead to me doubting whether what the Company is doing is right, which of course works in your favor, and would most likely eventually lead to me siding with you completely and breaking you out of this cell? I know what you did to Peter, and I know what you’re trying to do now. Don’t think that because I had a moment of weakness yesterday means that I’m under your thumb. You deserve to be in here.” Adam quirked an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you wanted me dead, doctor.” “Killing you would be too kind, I think.” With that, Suresh left, and the air hung heavy in his wake. --- It wasn’t too much of a loss, really. So, he was alone again. It wasn’t the end of the world. How many times had it happened now? Too many to count on two hands and two feet. Alone - yes, alone - Even the fish was gone now, and the maggots (they turned into cockroaches and ran away), and now Mohinder Suresh was gone too, because he didn’t come by and leave him food anymore, it just arrived mysteriously every time he was hungry (must be a trick of some special that he didn’t know about). It was fine, fine. Adam was used to being alone. He had come to rely on it, it was one of life’s constants. It was fine. Fine fine fine fine fine - He fell into sleep, and even in his empty dreams he was alone, searching, empty. His brain started crawling and folding into itself again, days passing by unmarked, and he found himself not caring anymore.