PAIRING: robert robertson x fem!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n, fwb
GENRE: fluff, suggestive?
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 1.1k
REQUESTED: yes
NOTE: pretend he has his own office in this one
navigation | request | robert robertson masterlist
you’re slumped in your usual seat at the briefing table, listening to malevola and sonar bicker in the corner, the others doing their own thing, you’re picking at the label on your coffee, when robert finally walks in.
he's carrying a pink box from the bakery three blocks over.
there’s a wave of surprise that moves through the room. robert is many things but he is not a bring in donuts kind of superior. but here he is, setting the box down with a thud. “help yourselves,” he announces, his voice lacking it's usual undertone of impatience.
as the team descends on the pastries, you hang back, a smugness spreading through your chest. you know this version of robert.
you’ve become intimately familiar with it over the past few weeks. this is the robert who’s been sleeping properly. the one whose shoulders have lost their permanent defensive hunch.
the one who, just last night, had you pinned against your apartment door, his mouth hot on your neck, whispering things that were decidedly not safe for work.
you’re not dating. it’s an arrangement, mutually beneficial for the both of you.
the meeting drones on, but the atmosphere’s lighter. people are actually engaging for once. halfway through, flambae leans back in his chair, smirk already tugging at his mouth. “so, robert,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement.
“not to get all touchy feely or anything, but you’ve been in an awfully good mood lately. new skincare routine? secret hobby? or…” his grin widens, eyes flicking toward you before landing back on robert,
“someone keeping you well rested?” he taps the donut box with a finger. “these are a nice touch, by the way.”
a few people chuckle in agreement. robert, who is now standing at the head of the table, doesn’t stiffen or scowl like you might have expected. a faint flush creeps up his neck, but he manages a tight smile.
“if we can return our focus to what's actually important,” he deflects, smoothly steering the conversation back to safer waters.
but his eyes, for just a fraction of a second, flicker to you.
you bring your coffee to your lips, hiding the proud smirk that threatens to split your face. you take a slow, deliberate sip, your eyes locked with his over the rim of the cup. you don’t blink. you just let the smug satisfaction shine through, a silent message just for him.
your look screams, “i did this.” we did this. this is all because of me.
he holds your eyes for a moment too long, his professional face firmly in place, but you see the crack in the facade. you see the way his jaw tightens, just a little, in the way he slightly bites his bottom lip.
he looks away first, turning to the screen, but the tips of his ears are still pink.
the meeting continues, but for you, there’s now a strong tension pulling at you two. every time he speaks, you remember how his voice had dropped to a murmur as his lips brushed your neck.
every time he gestures with his hands, you recall the feel of those same fingers feeling on your skin.
you can tell he's really trying to keep it together. you're at work for crying out loud. still, you can’t pretend it’s not a little entertaining, knowing that he’s probably replaying the way you bit his shoulder to keep quiet last night.
finally, he dismisses everyone with a “that’s all.” chairs scrape back, and the room stirs with the low shuffle and chatter of everyone leaving.
you take your time, gathering your stuff and the now empty coffee cup, letting the crowd thin. robert is pretending to be engrossed in shutting down the projector, his back to the room.
this is your moment.
you walk towards the door, but instead of leaving, you hover just outside in the hallway, out of sight from the glass of the doors. as he emerges, phone in hand, you reach out, your fingers curling gently but firmly around his wrist. he freezes, his head snapping towards you.
“a word, sir?” an innocent purr that doesn’t match the intent in your eyes.
his gaze darts down the hall, confirming it’s empty. “this isn’t-” he starts, his tone all business, but you’re already pulling him into the small, dim supply closet two doors down. it’s a tight fit, filled with the smell of old paper and toner.
the door clicks shut, plunging you into near darkness, a single sliver of light from under the door cutting across his face. his professional stance is gone, replaced by a startled anticipation.
“what are you doing?” he whispers, but not really in protest.
you don’t bother answering. instead, you push him back until he hits the shelf of printer paper, your hands sliding up his neck to catch his face and you kiss him.
nothing soft, it’s possessive, something of the kiss version of that smug little smile you wore all throughout the meeting.
a wordless reminder to him that this was exactly why he was in such a good mood.
it takes him a second to register your touch, but with a low groan he breaks. his hands wrap around you, one hand tangling in your hair, the other splaying against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.
he kisses you back with the same desperation. his tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting of coffee and the faint sugar from the donuts.
this is the robert you know. not your boss, not your dispatcher, but the one who comes undone beneath you. you can feel the frantic beat of his heart as his chest pressed against yours.
when you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, the sound loud in the confined space.
you rest your forehead against his, your smug smile returning, now pressed against his lips. “so,” you whisper, “the donuts were a nice touch.”
he huffs a quiet, breathless laugh, his thumb stroking your cheek. “shut up,” he murmurs, but there’s no heat in it, pressing another kiss to your mouth.
“we can’t stay in here,” he gets out after another moment, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual command, though it’s thoroughly undermined by the fact that he’s still holding you tightly against him.
“i know,” you agree, not moving an inch.
he steals one last, quick kiss. “ugh fine! my office. five minutes.”
he disentangles himself, smooths down his tie, and slips out the door, leaving you alone in the dark. you lean back against the shelves, a slow grin spreading across your face. you can still taste him on your lips.
PAIRING: invisigal x gn!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 679
NOTE: first courtney fic kinda nervous :'D
navigation | ask | invisigal masterlist
she’s already muttering under her breath before the door even shuts behind her. a dull thud as her bag hits the floor, followed by the loudest groan as she fights with her coat sleeve. you can hear the exhaustion in it.
“court?” you call from the couch, shifting to look over the backrest. she pauses mid battle with her jacket, hair slightly mussed, eyes tired. still, she gives you a smile.
“hey.”
you don’t even bother with words after that. you just hold your arms open. she doesn’t need convincing. the coat lands in a heap near the door, she all but leaps over the sofa and collapses into your lap, her body folding into yours.
her head finds your chest, you feel the warmth of her breath through your shirt.
“long day?” you murmur, brushing a hand through her hair.
she hums in something between a sigh and a laugh. “you have no idea.”
“i can tell,” you murmur, your thumb tracing circles against her shoulder. beneath your touch, she’s solid, muscles tense, shoulders sore. she smells faintly of smoke and outside, probably from whatever fieldwork she’s been on, it was mixed with that subtle hint of her shampoo.
for a while, neither of you talk. the tv flickers in front of you both. the volume low, showing some old sitcom rerun you’d forgotten was even playing. her breathing slows against you, and yours matches it without thinking. when your fingers start to work lightly at her shoulders, she moans softly, half protesting, half melting.
“mm… that feels so fucking good,” she mumbles.
“not hurting you, am i?,” you question, slightly stopping and she pushes herself closer to you.
“no, don't stop, i was enjoying that!” she mutters, voice fading as she relaxes further as you continue.
you bend a little, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. her hair tickles your lips, and you linger there longer than you probably should, but she doesn’t move. she just exhales.
“it’ll get easier,” you whisper, unsure if you mean the bruises or the exhaustion.
she hums again, as if she’s saying i know. her fingers twist lazily into the hem of your shirt, needing a hold on you.
the minutes stretch, but they don’t drag. you keep your hands moving, slow, now absentmindedly tracing patterns across her back. from between her shoulder blades, down the dip of her spine, to the gentle curve of her waist where her shirt has bunched up a little.
your fingers follow the rhythm, pressing lightly in some places, easing out tension she’s too tired to fight.
she makes these small sounds when you find a sore spot, tiny groans, half asleep sighs that vibrate against your chest. you could almost map her day from them.
the bruise on her shoulder from a rough landing, the tightness at her neck from straining for too long, the knots in her lower back from carrying too much. you don’t need to ask. you just listen with your hands.
the rooms dimmer now, quieter. you can feel her melt further into you
you think about saying something to her. something small, maybe even brave. you did great today or i like this, us, like this. but when you go to tilt your head to check on her, the words fall flat before they can form.
she’s asleep.
her face is slack now, free of the tension she carries when she’s awake. her mouth parted slightly, a lock of hair had fallen over her cheek. you can feel the faintest tickle of her breath against your chest.
you smile without meaning to. carefully shifting just enough to pull the blanket from the back of the cushions over the two of you. she stirs a little, nestling her face closer, her fingers brushing your side.
you rest your head back and exhale, letting yourself sink into the couch, into her. the voices of the tv fade in and out, you don’t move again. you just stay there, holding her while she dreams, slowly letting yourself do the same.
reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ⋆ ｡° · ☁︎
2025 IALREADYMADEYOUAPROMISE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED !
Take a bite (Malevola x Chubby!Vampire! Fem Reader)
Requested: Omgi def need chubby!vampire!fem reader x malevola! Like imagine reader couldnt find her lunch (bloodbag) and Malevola just so happens to be passing by, and the kind person as she is, offers reader to feed on her or something (or maybe just bc mal wants to feel reader close cuzzz maybe she has a crush on them)
And Malevola for some reason enjoys having reader feed off of her, and lowkey mumbled a love confession. everything else is up to you, have a lovely day ^^
Hi! Thank you, this was such a fun request and I hope you enjoy it ✨️
Prior to the incident:
Malevola noticing you around the SDN office.
She started believing in love at first sight since, something she used to scoff at.
She's completely enarmoured with you.
She's incredibly observant, taking note of your habits and schedule.
She'd observe you from the table her and Sonar usually pick in the break room.
She'd be curious seeing your blood bag for lunch the first time but she'd never make it a big deal. Of course you need to drink blood, she'd think it would be silly to point out or ask about; kind of like when people points out she's a part demon and has horns.
Sonar teasing her about her crush, even though he's happy to see her interested in someone, he does want to goad her into action so she'll stop being a lovesick puppy.
"Oh you've got it bad Mal. Now picture how bad you'll have it if you keep dropping your chance and someone else gets her."
Eventually she'd take the plunge, walking up to you and striking up a conversation about your work as either a handler or hero.
"Yeah just saved a cat out a tree, was no problem," she'd smirk, flexing 'subtley'.
If you were a SDN handler:
She'd stop by your desk after she's back from a mission to chat while she rests, if you aren't too busy.
Malevola would definitely flirt by suggesting you be her handler and implying she'd listen better to you than Robert.
Her being encouraging if your team had a less than stellar day. She's incredibly emotionally mature so she'd be a great listener, giving genuine feedback.
If you were an SDN hero:
Malevola would join you on the way to your target. She'd stick around to see you in action.
"Just letting you know, that was incredibly hot." Her mind would be on your fangs all day.
If you were injured, she'd heal you immediately, transferring your wound to her; with a wink and easy smile.
She'd groan playfully about not being on the same team.
Malevola being playfully competitive about the leader board.
She'd be quite flirty from the get go. Her tone always being sincere and matter of fact, her low voice quiet like she's whispering a secret just for the two of you.
"You're absolutely stunning."
She would use your vampirism as a point of flirting.
"With your smile you can make me your blood bag any day love"
The incident:
You'd only realize you forgot your blood bag at home when lunch starts.
Luckily SDN has made it a point to stock all lunch options for their staff in the upgraded vending machines post Waterboy breaking one of them.
And you've gotten blood bags from it a few times. While it would work in this situation, the blood isn't kept at the temperature you'd like, but you're thankful they replenish it pretty often.
Unfortunately today it was completely empty. The vacant spot the blood bags usually are mocking you.
You'd know you do desperately need one today, since you didn't have one last night. Too tired from work that day.
Malevola would accidentally bump into you, as she steps through her portal.
"Hey sorry about that"
She'd immediately know something is wrong. She'd put the pieces together just by your expression and the blood barren vending machine.
Malevola would immediately offer, her red skin hiding her blush.
"I could totally be your blood bag today."
She'd reassure you if you felt any hesitation drinking from her.
You two would head to the conference room, a bit more private since it would probably be an HR violation in some SDN handbook.
Malevola pulling you onto her lap, her hands on your hips as she closes her eyes, head tilted to the side.
She'd be so eager and curious if her blood would have any special affect
She'd let out a low groan as you sink your teeth into her neck.
It would be painfully obvious how much she's enjoying it.
Her hands tightening on your hips as she leans up into you.
Her forked tail would wrap around your thigh, flicking excitedly.
You'd feel more powerful after her blood, like an intense rush of strength.
"Fuck, I really do love you," she'd rumble lost in how it feels and the fact she's finally close to her crush.
Her golden eyes widening as you pull back in shock.
She wouldn't try back tracking on her confession.
Malevola smiling up at you as she pulls you closer, her tail now grazing your thigh.
"I stick by what I said. I like you a whole lot. Would you like to go out tonight"
She wouldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day after your yes.
She'd feel pleasantly woozy from you drinking from her. It would feel like an incredible high.
You'd notice her throughout the day, high fiving her team mates and proudly showing off the bit marks to her best friend Sonar.
PAIRING: malevola gibb x fem!reader
WARNINGS: injured reader, no use of y/n
GENRE: angsty fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
NOTE: have this whilst i'm working on requests
navigation | request | malevola gibb masterlist
patrol was supposed to be routine.
a couple of suspicious reports near the sector, nothing dramatic, nothing that should’ve landed you on the ground with your vision blurring. but it happens fast, too fast to comprehend.
you’re clearing a side corridor when the metal door above you gives a creak you don’t have time to process. a loose ventilation panel, half detached, comes crashing down.
you twist to dodge, but it clips your ribs hard, slamming you against the concrete wall. the breath punches out of you in one brutal gust.
you try to inhale.
it doesn’t quite work.
your hand flies to your side, fingers trembling over the spreading pain.
“robert, i-” you start, but your voice cuts off in a broken cough.
the corridor spins a little.
you hit your knees.
before you can even try again, a familiar voice crackles through your earpiece, malevola’s calling out for you to check in.
you open your mouth, but all that comes out is another shallow breath.
she must hear the way you’re not able to answer, because suddenly her tone changes. not panicked, just urgent.
“respond.”
you manage, “hit… i’m okay, just…”
the lie doesn’t even sound convincing to you.
there’s a pause. then:
“don’t move. i’m coming to you.”
you hear her boots pounding down the main walkway through the open comms channel.
you slump sideways, pressing your back to the wall to stay upright. each breath feels like someone’s driving pressure into your ribs from the inside.
when she rounds the corner, she rushes over, dropping to your level in seconds.
her eyes swept over you, hands slightly hovering over you, “what happened?”
“panel fell,” you breathe out. “just… got winded.”
malevola’s jaw flexes. “you’re not just winded. you’re holding your side.”
she continues to try and press two fingers gently to your ribs, the sharp hiss that escapes you answers every question she has. her eyes narrow, not at you, but at the situation, at the building, at the fact that she wasn’t here when it happened.
“robert, i need medics to sector b corridor seven. now.”
“copy,” robert replies immediately. “eta two-”
“make it one,” she snaps, already sliding an arm behind your back to steady you as you lean sideways. “she’s short of breath.”
you try again, “i’m fine-”
“no,” she cuts in, and this time the edge in her voice sounds worried. “don’t say that.”
your vision flickers, and her hand is against your cheek, guiding your focus back to her.
“stay with me,” she begs, “look at me. breathe slowly.”
you try. it hurts, but you try.
she doesn’t look away. not once. even when she reaches up to hit the comms again.
“robert, tell the medics they’ll need respiratory support.”
“already relaying.”
malevola shifts so she’s bracing your weight, keeping you upright without jostling your ribs. close enough that her armour brushes your sleeve every time you exhale.
“you’re going to be alright,” she’s unsure if she’s telling you or herself this, “just hold on a little longer.”
it’s the last thing you hear clearly before the medics arrive as your eyes roll into the back of your head.
you wake to the beep of machines and the faint smell of disinfectant. it didn't take you long to realise you were in a hospital room and the ache in your chest reminding you why you’re here.
your eyes are still adjusting when you notice her.
malevola sits in a chair beside your bed, hair laid messily on her shoulders, she looks… tired. her jacket draped over the back of the chair, one elbow resting on her knee, hand over her mouth as if she was trying not to fall asleep.
she isn’t watching you, she’s watching the monitor.
the steady rise and fall of your vitals.
you shift, just slightly and her attention snaps to you instantly, relieved.
“you’re awake.”
“yeah,” you murmur. “not dead. good start.”
a breath escapes her, almost a laugh, though she stops it halfway like she’s not sure she should encourage your humour right now. she leans forward slightly.
“any dizziness? pain when you breathe?”
“just sore,” you reply. “feels like someone kicked me.”
“they said you took the impact on your side,” she says. “cracked rib, mild trauma. you’re lucky.”
you try to sit up and she immediately puts a hand out, not quite touching you, just a pause, a silent don’t overdo it.
“easy,” she says. “they want you resting,”
you settle back. the room feels quieter now, heavier somehow.
“you were here the whole time?” you ask.
she doesn’t look away. “yes.”
“you didn’t have to-”
“yes, i did.”
she shifts in the chair, her gaze moving briefly to your chart clipped to the end of the bed. “they were monitoring your breathing. it dropped at one point. they increased your oxygen,” she adds, as if she needs you to know that part.
“but i wasn’t going to leave until they said you were stable.” you smile knowing that she stayed even knowing that you were.
you study her face, her eyes are tired, and there’s a pinch between her brows. “you okay?” you ask, coughing a little.
she exhales once, slow. “i’m fine.”
but then she continues, “i didn’t like seeing you go down like that.”
it’s the closest she’ll come to saying she was scared.
you can tell by the way she keeps her hands clasped together, fingertips pressed hard against each other, something to occupy them, something to stop them from reaching for you.
“you ran over pretty fast,” you try to gently tease, lighten something.
her eyes flick to yours, unimpressed. “you were injured.”
“you yelled.”
this time she actually pauses, then clears her throat. “the situation was chaotic.”
“mal.”
a tiny sigh escapes her, “i was trying to get to you quickly,” she admits. “that’s all.”
you shift your hand a little closer on the blanket. not touching hers, just close enough that she’d notice.
she does.
her eyes drop for half a second, she stands, stepping closer to the bed. she gently adjusts your blanket, smoothing it near your arm.
“you’ll be discharged tomorrow if your vitals stays steady,” she changes the subject. “i’ll arrange transport.”
“you don’t have to go that far.”
a faint hint of a smile lifts one corner of her mouth. “you say that a lot.”
“and you ignore it.”
“correct.”
she meets your eyes then, “i’m so glad you’re alright,” she sighs.
she lingers a moment before she says she’ll be outside. you can tell she’s checking you over one more time, not obviously, not in a way that would embarrass either of you, but her eyes flick briefly to the monitor again, then to the rise of your chest as you breathe.
she nods once to herself, like everything is acceptable, and goes to step toward the door. “try to sleep,” she suggests, not turning yet. “if anything changes, press the button for the nurse.”
she reaches for the door.
“malevola?”
she stops instantly. she stills, spine straightening, she looks back over her shoulder.
“yes?”
your voice small in the quiet.
“can you… stay with me?”
it’s simple, but something about saying it makes your ribs ache in a different way.
her expression shifts subtly. her eyes soften. her shoulders drop half an inch. the rigid line of her jaw eases.
she steps back toward you.
there’s warmth in her voice when she speaks again, “if that’s what you want.”
“it is.” you don't hesitate.
she nods once, pulling the chair closer to your bed before sitting down again. not relaxing fully, she leans back, just a little, as if allowing herself to settle now that you’ve given her permission to.
“is this okay?” she asks quietly.
you smile at her, “yeah. you don’t have to sit upright, you know.”
she huffs a soft breath, amused. “habits.”
she adjusts the chair another inch closer. enough that when you let your hand rest on the side of the mattress, her knee brushes the edge of it.
not touching. just near.
her gaze flicks to your hand once, then returns back to your face.
“try to sleep,” she repeats, but it's lighter “i’ll be right here.”
“you’re not planning to leave?”
“no,” she replies simply. “not unless you tell me to.”
the room settles again after she promises to stay. you feel the tension in your chest loosen in a way the pain meds haven’t quite managed. her attention focused entirely on you.
you shift your hand a little on the blanket, closer to the edge of the mattress, closer to her.
at first she just watches you, reading you. making sure you’re not in pain or trying to push yourself too far.
but then her eyes dropped to your hand again, you don’t say anything. you don’t have to.
she understands.
very slowly, as if giving you every chance to pull away, she lifts her hand from the bed rail. her fingers hover above yours for a moment.
“are you sure?” she whispers.
it’s not hesitation. it’s respect. you nod once. “yeah. i’m sure.”
she exhales before lowering her hand.
her fingertips brush the back of your hand first, testing. when you don’t pull away, when you turn your hand palm up in invitation, she finally threads her fingers between yours.
you can feel the faint tremor she’s been hiding all night finally settle, her thumb lightly brushing the side of your index finger.
“you should rest,” she murmurs, but her voice has changed. wariness replaced by something gentler.
“i will, just… don’t let go yet.”
her thumb pauses. “i wasn’t planning to.”
the chair creaks slightly as she leans back, but she keeps her hand in yours.
you close your eyes. the room’s fluorescent light feels less sharp with her beside you. the monitors beep steadily. your breathing evens out.
and malevola doesn’t move.
not even when she thinks you’re asleep.
her thumb continues absentminded circles against your skin, tiny motions she probably doesn’t even realise she’s doing.
you drift, and just before sleep pulls you under, you hear her voice, barely above a whisper.
PAIRING: invisigal x gn!reader
WARNINGS: asthma attack, no use of y/n
GENRE: angst?, fluff
PLAYLIST: here
WORD COUNT: 2.4k
REQUESTED: yes
NOTE: might do some headcanons on this too
navigation | ask | invisigal masterlist
this wasn’t your first run in with courtney’s asthma, not by a long shot.
by now you've both learned it’s rhythms over time, whether the cause be allergies or the weather, whatever the reason was she was lucky she doesn’t get too many attacks out on the field anymore. she usually managed with her inhaler before anything got too bad.
but when she did get one?
they were brutal.
courtney walks beside you with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, bobbing her head to the quiet rhythm of whatever she’s humming under her breath. her face slightly catches the glow of the streetlights with each step.
she glances at you from the corner of her eye, a smile nudges at the edge of her mouth. not the kind she gives everyone. this one is softer, just for you.
you tell yourself you’re imagining the warmth in your chest when she looks at you that way. you tell yourself it’s nothing. you tell yourself a lot of things you don’t really believe.
“tonight wasn’t awful,” she breaks the silence, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn.
“it was actually quite quiet, honestly? kinda disappointed.”
“you say that now,” you reply, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “but if anything had exploded in our faces, you’d be the first one to moan about it.”
she huffs, feigning offense. “oh you’d just love to hear me moan,” she laughs, grinning at you, that same smile is the reason you look away for just a second, pretending to scan the empty street.
because if you look at her too long, she’ll see it, the softness, the nervousness, the thing you haven’t let yourself name.
you hear her cough once. just once, but it kinda made you feel uneasy.
her asthma has been part of her life longer than you have. it doesn’t define her, it just… complicates things. you’ve seen her handle it well, inhaler flick, inhale, hold, breathe, then she moves on like nothing ever happened.
you’ve learned the difference between a casual cough and the kind that means you need to step closer.
even though you felt off, you force your shoulders to relax anyway.
“you alright?” you ask.
she waves you off. “dry throat. i’m fine.”
you hum, unconvinced, but you let it go or pretend to. same thing.
the streets are quiet as you continue walking. the night air is cool, brushing against your cheeks, sdn’s neon sign glows faintly in the far distance, a reminder that you’re nearly done, when you make out the unmistakable smell of chemicals.
the masked villain lands hard on the pavement, cracking the concrete, swings an arm through the air, sending a wave of gas rolling toward you.
aerokinesis.
“visi, get back!” you shout.
you run toward them before she can argue.
the villain swung out their arm and another burst of gas shot toward your face, you snapped up a barrier just in time, the cloud rolling over it.
you could’ve taken him down fast if you would have just stayed focused, but how could you? after hearing an aggressive cough, courtney’s.
your head whipped back around towards her.
she was already staggering back from the mist, hand clutching her inhaler, shoulders jolting with every cough. the sound punched through your ribs, a spreading ache rising in your chest, it only took a split second for you to drop your guard.
something slammed into your side.
the criminal swept your legs out from under you with a burst of pressure you didn’t even see coming. you hit the pavement hard, air punching out of your lungs, the world tilting for a second. you tried to roll, but they were already lunging again, hand outstretched with another wave of gas.
you forced your telekinesis outward in a panicked burst. the invisible shove sent the guy stumbling back, just enough for you to scramble to your feet. your ribs screamed, your vision slightly blurred, but courtney's coughing sounded worse, ragged, almost desperate, so you pushed through it.
this time, you didn’t hesitate.
you threw your hand forward, fingers curling, your powers obeyed. the villain lifted off the ground and slammed into a bus stop pole with enough force to knock them out before they could slide down, you pinned them there with your power, yanking their wrists behind their back and shoving them to the ground, binding them with a cable from your utility strap.
done.
you didn’t even stay long enough to check if the knot held. it would. you made sure of it.
courtney mattered more.
you sprinted to her.
she was slouched against the brick wall of a shop, coughing so violently her whole body shook. she fumbled her inhaler with shaking fingers, pressed it, tried again, nothing came out. not even a hiss. her chest heaved, panic flickering in her eyes between coughs.
“shit- vis.” you dropped to your knees beside her.
she gave a small, breathless groan, blinking hard. “it… ran out, i- i used it too much-”
“i know,” you whispered, more to calm yourself than her. you slipped it gently but urgently from her hand. “watch him. don’t move. i’ll get you a new one.”
she nodded, barely, one arm curling around her ribs as she coughed into her sleeve.
you didn’t waste another second.
you bolted.
your boots hammered against the pavement as you tore down the street, lungs burning, your heart thrumming in your chest. the nearest pharmacy was two blocks away, and you didn’t stop to breathe, didn’t stop to think.
just two blocks.
you keep repeating to yourself.
the criminal is tied down. courtney is alive. you just need to get her a new inhaler. this is manageable, no reason to panic.
but you are.
you’re panicking so hard it feels like someone has a fist wrapped around your lungs and they keep squeezing, tighter and tighter with every second she’s out of your sight.
her cough keeps echoing in your mind, even though you’re half a street away now. you can still hear the wet rasp, the sharp inhale that didn’t fill her lungs, the fear she tried to hide from you.
you shove harder into your sprint.
by the time you skid around the corner to the pharmacy entrance, you don’t bother with the door handle, you shove it open with your power and stumbled inside.
the pharmacist at the counter jumps. “oh-! uh- you’re a hero, right? what do you need-”
“inhaler refill,” you gasp. “she’s- she’s having a severe attack- i need her meds, now.”
the pharmacist’s expression shifts instantly, from startled to serious. “name of the prescription?”
you say it. your voice cracks as you do.
the pharmacist types fast, nods once, disappears into the back.
you pace, hands dragging down your face.
you can’t stand still. every second feels like a minute and every time you blink, you see courtney slumped against that wall, her lips a shade too pale.
you know she’s survived worse. you know this is her life, something she handles, something she controls.
but today she doesn’t have control. that terrifies you in a way you can’t put words to.
your hands shake. not from adrenaline, from something deeper, something you’ve never let yourself acknowledge fully.
you care. too much, definitely more than you should.
more than a teammate. more than a friend and watching her struggle for air felt like someone was peeling your ribs open from the inside.
“here!” the pharmacist calls, rushing back with a small paper bag. “new canister. go!”
you snatch it from their hands. “thank you!” throwing down some money on the counter then you’re out the door before they finish their sentence.
you sprint again, harder, faster if that was even possible, your legs already screaming from the first run but you ignore it.
when you round the last corner, your heart slams against your throat.
she's still there. still slouched against the wall, but she’s hunched lower than before. her elbows are braced on her knees, one hand pressed to her chest as she coughs in short, painful bursts. her inhaler sits useless beside her.
she looks up at the sound of your footsteps. her eyes are glassy, lashes clumped together from tears she didn’t mean to shed.
you practically fall to your knees in front of her.
“i’m here, i’m here- court, hey,” she tries to speak but the words dissolve into another cough.
“it’s okay, i’ve got it,” you whisper, tearing the inhaler from the packaging with frantic hands.
“you’re okay. just breathe for me.”
you shake the canister hard, lifting it to her lips, her fingers overlap yours, trembling, you press the canister down.
she inhales, shallow, shaky, then holds.
one beat.
two.
three.
the relief doesn’t come instantly. it never does. but her shoulders loosen just enough that you can feel your own lungs start working again.
she exhales slowly.
not perfectly or comfortably, but better. she takes another puff, then another.
and with each breath, your panic falls away in pieces until your chest no longer feels like it's collapsing on itself.
you brush her hair away from her forehead with a gentle hand, “you scared the shit out of me.”
she lets out a weak laugh, “i scared me too.”
“you shouldn’t have been that close to the gas,” you speak softly. “you know better.”
her eyes meet yours. even tired, lined with tears, even shaken, there’s something bright in them. something that makes your stomach churn.
“i didn’t see it coming,” she whispers. “i was looking at you.”
your breath catches.
she realises what she said just a second too late, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. she looks away, swallowing hard.
“i mean… i was just making sure you didn’t get hit. you jumped in so fast. i didn’t…” her voice drifts off. “doesn’t matter.”
it does.
it matters way too much.
you gently guide the inhaler back into her hand. “can you breathe okay now?”
she nods. “yeah. i’m… getting there.”
her breathing is steadier but nowhere near normal. by the time you reach the pinned villain again. they’re still bound exactly where you left them. wriggling uselessly against the cable, gas power sputtering in weak bursts now that their adrenaline’s shot.
you stop a few feet away, keeping courtney tucked protectively against your side. you can feel every uneven breath she takes, each one pushes a little worry deeper into your ribs.
“you good to stand here?” you murmur softly, tipping your head toward her.
she straightens as if she’s pretending she wasn’t leaning on you at all, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”
her voice is hoarse, she’s absolutely not fine, but you don’t call her on it.
you crouch down beside the villain, grab your communicator, and send out a report. backup is already on its way, you hear the distant sirens of the sdn patrol units turning onto the street.
she ends up resting her shoulder against a wall, inhaler still clutched in her hand.
when the heroes arrive, you give a quick rundown of the incident, gesturing to the lingering haze staining the air. the officers snap cuffs over the villain’s wrists and haul them upright, dragging them toward the transport van.
you barely watch.
courtney is all you can focus on. her hunched posture, her exhales still shaky.
the moment the officers drive off, she pushes off the wall. “okay. we should go. hq’s close, and i’ve got to-”
“you’re seeing the medic.”
she stops mid step.
you don’t use a stern tone with her often. rarely, actually. but right now it comes out before you can soften it, all the fear and adrenaline shoving it forward.
courtney huffs. “i don’t need that. i’m fine. i just… overdid it.”
“you had a severe asthma attack,” you voice, stepping in front of her when she tries to walk past you. “your breathing still isn’t steady.”
“it will be,” she insists. “i’ve handled it before.”
“it’s not been this bad on patrol before.”
she looks away, jaw clenching. for someone who can turn invisible, courtney’s tells are anything but subtle. the twitch in her neck, the curl of her fingers, the way she bites the inside of her cheek.
this isn’t just stubborn pride, this is fear.
she hates being seen vulnerable. hates being reminded her lungs don’t always obey her. hates being treated like she’s fragile.
you step closer, lowering your voice, “court… please.”
her eyes flick to yours. an involuntary movement. in that tiny moment, she sees everything on your face that you forgot to hide. the worry, the fear that hasn’t left since she started coughing, the softness you tried not to feel for her.
she swallows hard.
“…you’re really scared,” she points out, you nod.
she watches your expression, something in her shoulders loosens. she lets out another shaky exhale that wheezes slightly at the end.
“…okay,” she whispers. “i’ll go.”
relief crashes over you, “thank you,” you grin.
she avoids your gaze, ears slightly pink. “only because you’re about two breaths from collapsing, and i’m not scraping you off the floor.”
she tries for sarcasm but she’s tired, too tired and it comes out softer than she intended.
you shift your hand, sliding your arm under hers so you can support her as you both start walking toward sdn again. she hesitates for a second, then leans into you with a tiny sigh.
the streets are quiet, except for the rolling hum of traffic blocks away. you adjust your hold when she stumbles slightly on a crack in the pavement.
“you okay?”
her reply is short, “yeah,” but she squeezes your arm just a little.
eventually, the front doors slide open with a hiss. warm air spills out, along with the faint smell of disinfectant and coffee, from the front desk. the receptionist looks up, eyes widening.
“oh- invisigal, are you alright?”
courtney stiffens at the attention, you answer for her.
“she needs medical,” you say. “severe asthma exacerbation from a gas powered villain.”
the receptionist is already tapping into her computer. “med bay is open, room two. i’ll alert the staff.”
courtney shifts uncomfortably at all the fuss, but you gently guide her toward the hallway before she can argue again.
“you don’t have to stay with me,” she murmurs once when you set her down onto the bed.
“not leaving you,” you reply without thought. she glances at you, “you sure?” she asks, “you don’t have to babysit me, i'll… be fine.”
you meet her eyes, “i’m staying whether you like it or not.” she chuckles at how stubborn you are.
“okay.”
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