#// saw the medical angle and couldn’t resist

[2young2die]

She just sits, polite and attentive, playing the part even though she doesn’t realize it. It’s just how she is; everyone deserves a basic level of respect. Even… uh… people like the Prime Assets. When he switches to German she just nods, still respectful. Is he making fun of her? Probably, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to it by now.

It’s a good thing she’s behind glass or a fence or this probably wouldn’t end well…

”Hi, I heard you’re a doctor… um… what’s medical school like in Germany? I was set to go to nursing school here in America before I messed up, haha…”

-Selene

((her ass has not read all of his files lmao))

You wanted to become a nurse? How albern. You must understand that medicine is much more demanding than most people realize. Die Berufung einer Frau besteht einfach darin, ein Kunstwerk zu sein und nicht in einem Bereich für Männer zu arbeiten. But don't feel bad, Fräulein, not everyone is cut out for it. Some are, Medical school in Germany? It's painful to say the least. You have to be strong, unwavering in your studies. Simply put, Wir alle haben unsere Rolle zu spielen, und vielleicht war Ihre Rolle nie eine andere, als Leuten wie mir zu helfen. Das verstehen Sie doch, oder? Echte Arbeit erfordert eine gewisse Note. Etwas, wofür man nicht geboren wurde. Eine Frau wie Sie sollte sich hinsetzen und vielleicht versuchen, ihre Schönheit erblühen zu lassen, anstatt zu zerbröckeln.

[rainforestakiie]

hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

 “Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”

[gumnut-logic]

Found this Scott and Em Harris 'discussion' on my hard drive.

Em Harris is an OC from Gentle Rain.

Language warning for this as she is not happy at all.

-o-o-o-

“I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”

Scott blinked at the fire in her words. He would have taken a step back, but he was held by his seat in One, its safety harness and back preventing him from moving an inch away from the fury of his wife.

Em hovered in front of him, the white of her medical baldric glaring at him. It had stains. Some identifiable, some not so much. But all of which he wished he could have protected her from.

But he couldn’t.

Because she was who she was and there was no way he could hold her back from helping people any more than he could himself. If there was one thing they both shared, it was that.

Her determination was what made her so beautiful.

“Emaline-“

“No!” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak after a stupid stunt like that. All you had to do was wait for Virgil.”

“There wasn’t time!”

“Another thirty seconds, Scott! If Virgil hadn’t caught you, YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” Her pale blue eyes electrified with a mixture of fury and fear. “I almost lost you! For no reason!”

“A life was saved!”

“Virgil nearly missed the both of you! He has enough bruising from his leap off that cliff after you to inspire his next painting. Kay is going to kick your ass, flyboy.”

Scott swallowed. Kayo he could handle, but he hadn’t realised Virgil had been hurt. “Is Virgil okay?”

Em sighed and looked down a moment before looking him in the eye. “No. No, he is not. You owe him an apology.”

As if he was aware of his name being mentioned, Virgil’s calm voice issued over comes. “Thunderbird Two departing danger zone. Transporting injured to Capetown Medical and returning to base.”

The line cut out before Scott could reply. The lack of personal address or even his callsign was enough to illustrate exactly how much shit he was in with his brother.

“Scott, please.” And suddenly the anger in her voice was gone. “Why? Why is your life not worth as much to you as it is to me?”

She wasn’t crying, but there was so much grief in her voice, he had to reach out and pull her to him.

There was resistance at first. She was as stubborn as she was determined to the point of the words being synonyms.  But then, as light as she always was, he drew her into his arms, hoverscoot rising at an angle and their baldrics clattering as they met. Her head landed on his shoulder and he held her there, stroking the nape of her neck where her hair bun left it bare.

“I’m sorry.” It was an exhalation.

“Please don’t do that again.” It was muffled into his uniform.

“Em, you know I can’t guar-“

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. She flung herself backwards, pulling away. Practised reflexes let her go out of respect, but he grabbed at her again. No!

She didn’t let him reach her, her hoverjets humming almost as angrily as her expression.

“No, Scott Tracy, you can guarantee. You can tell me that you will wait. You can tell me that you will consider. You will tell me that you trust your brothers’ knowledge and experience. And you can tell me that I am important enough in your life for you to not give up that life in a situation that can be easily avoided.” She drew in a breath. “If you can’t value your own life enough yourself, then value it for me.” A breath. “I love you, Scott…please.”

Every rule, every philosophy, every self determination screamed at him to deny her. The thought of putting his life above others was anathema. But his strategic mind flipped the equation without permission and he saw his actions from her point of view.

His brain listed off his abilities, how he should have been able to handle the situation safely.

And how it had all gone so far south so quickly, and how only the quick actions of his engineer brother had prevented a very long plummet down a very high cliff.

His first thought had been gratitude and admiration for his brother’s skill and the fact the rescue was a successful one.

He didn’t register Virgil’s grunts as anything other than simple exertion. Now looking back, now he didn’t have his arms full of terrified rescuee, he could take a moment to examine exactly what had happened.

Virgil hadn’t said a thing.

He had rappelled them back up the cliff. It had been all business and as the adrenalin had waned, Scott had just felt tired. Em took the rescuee into Two and after a silent scan with Virgil’s mediscanner, Scott had returned to One.

It was just another rescue almost gone wrong.

Virgil had just saved the day…again.

What if he had waited? Would the man have fallen?

His heart feared what would have happened if he did. That was why he had jumped himself despite the fragility of the rockface.

He looked up at his beautiful wife. “I don’t know if I can stand by and risk a death I can prevent.”

Her lips thinned, but her eyes were sad. “Neither can I.” She drew in a breath. “Commander Scott Tracy, as Lead Medical Officer of International Rescue, I’m citing you for reckless self-endangerment and recommending psychological review.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Little more than breath. “Not like this.

“I just can’t.”

-o-o-o-

[idontplaytrack]

Scared

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: hospital setting, hospitalisation, surgical procedure mentions, vomiting descriptions, anxiety

In which, reader finally gets on the right track to an answer for her pain but then she’s faced with a great fear of hers.

You’ve never seen Jos this scared. It was difficult to scare Jos— and in fact, difficult was an understatement. It was impossible. But the one thing that could make her feel this way? Seeing you in pain. She would then feel so, very helpless. You were curled up in her bed, literally writhing as you felt the sharp pain in your abdomen for the third time that hour. Jos watched you, terrified that you were experiencing such intense symptoms this time. This was not your typical flare up.

“Babe, I’m gonna get my Mom to take us to the ER, alright?”

“No.” You shot her down immediately.

“We’re going.” Jos insisted, “Mom!” She jogs to her Mom’s room, “y/n needs to go to the hospital…”

That’s all you heard before her voice died down. You gave up resisting and just went with the flow— nothing else was going on in your head then getting through the waves of pain. You had no idea how you got into the car, but you were in the back laying down with your head on Jos’ lap while Margot drove. You vaguely remember Jos just lifting you up while your arms hung around her neck lazily. Or was it Margot? No, it had to be Jos…you smelled her perfume and saw her necklace. Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by another wave of pain that caused you to cry out. “Breathe, baby. I got you, it’s okay.” Jos reminded, “How far away are we?”

“About twenty.” Margot answers, glancing at the rear-view mirror, “I’m going as fast as I can. Hang in there, okay, sweetheart?”

You didn’t know about that- every single bump on the road had tears pricking at your eyes. You later learnt that Margot was certain that you had appendicitis, but with your lack of a fever and what you presented with during the physical examination, the doctors were seemingly freaked out— they didn’t show it, but it was prevalent that your case baffled them. Your symptoms didn’t fit this condition or that disease. They had no clue what to do with you.

“You did an x-ray, right? And that showed nothing. But you touched the area and you felt something- so something is there. Give her a different kind of imaging, then.” Margot urged the doctor who was typing away on the desktop, “She is clearly in a lot of pain and threw up in the waiting room. I do not care how much it will cost me, just figure it out. Not for me, but for her. If you refuse, please- put that down on her file so that the next time we see a doctor, they won’t jump the gun and dismiss her for being an addict.”

Jos sat with you, Margot did the talking because you just couldn’t form a proper sentence. The pain had consumed you. And yet, the doctors weren’t keen in heeding Margot’s advice. “You are a doctor. Help your patient instead of leaving her in the lurch. It’s not normal for her to be experiencing this much pain when she usually gets a flareup.”

“We will admit her to do an MRI scan. Then depending on results, the next step will be decided appropriately.”

“Good.”

So then, later that evening, you were sat in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV that was pumping you with pain medication. Jos sat in a plastic chair beside the bed, just looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Oh.” Jos blinked profusely, “Yeah, it’s just been a long day. Get some sleep, babe.”

“You can go home, you know.” You told her, resting your back against the top half of the bed that was angled almost 90-degrees upright, “You don’t have to sit here and wait with me.”

“It’s good to see you like your usual self again.” She cracked a smile, “I just want to keep you company. It’s terrifying being in this environment alone and I know it— don’t argue with me about it. I wanna stay with you, alright?”

“Yeah, all thanks to whatever meds they’re giving me.” You allowed yourself to laugh. Jos reached for your hand and held onto it tightly, pressing a loving kiss to it. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“I know, it’s just…it always takes them so long to listen to me.”

“Which is terrible, but we’re here now and we’re on the right track.” She assured, “I’ll be here for you no matter what. It scared me earlier to see you in so much pain, but we got this. Okay? You got this.”

You didn’t exactly give her a response, but Jos could tell from your body language that you were listening. Your MRI was scheduled for the next morning at 8:30 and you couldn’t eat anything for at least eight hours before. So…you had about two hours before you had to stop eating. “Do you want something to eat? You still have some time before they said you had to stop.”

“Sure?”

“Mom bought it earlier while we stilll waiting for you to get a bed, but— you have a couple options. A turkey ham and cheese sandwich, or an egg salad sandwich. Or pulled pork wrap.”

You picked the ham and cheese sandwich and just quietly nibbled on it while Jos distracted you with a chat. Halfway through, she pours you a cup of water from the jug that they provided. “Thanks.” You brought the cup to your lips and took a few sips. Jos smiles at you before she resumed eating.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Now that I can think more clearly…I uh, I’m just scared that they’ll tell me that the ‘lump’ has grown in size. They don’t know what it is yet, and I’m honestly terrified. Why can’t they just cut me open and take it out? It’s been three months. And they’re still just calling it a lump. I don’t understand it, what it is…what I can do to help myself.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out. We’re not gonna leave until they figure it out.”

Jos knew you hated being here, but it was necessary. Your last hospitalisation had you being poked and prodded more times than either of you could count and you’ve since then developed a fear of needles.

————

You and Jos have just celebrated a year together when you first started having the pain. Initially, you brushed it off as a typical stomachache or gas pains. But, it worsened day by day and that was how the hospital has seemingly become your second home. You counted yourself as lucky, because without Margot, you would not be in this hospital bed right now waiting for an MRI scan. What were the doctors gonna do? Go against the mayor?

Because of the Power, you had to be sedated for the procedure since without it, what happened to Jos when she had an MRI to figure out what the new organ was, would damn well happen to you. It was still possible, but it lowered the risk greatly. Of course, they said that the scan wouldn’t be done if it weren’t absolutely necessary. In your case, it was. Especially after what another doctor had realised about ‘the lump’ and called it one that was ‘in your muscles’. You weren’t paying too much attention— you were so out of it. And the pain medication made you seriously drowsy. You were literally fighting sleep just to eat something before you slept.

“Yeah, I’ll be staying here with her. You’ll be back tomorrow morning before she has to go down for the scan, right, Mom?”

“Get some sleep. Both of you. And yes, of course I will be there. I have to be there because her parents are out of town and I also promised. So please, don’t worry about that and just worry about getting rested.”

“Okay, see you in the morning, Mom. She’s out like a light. I’m gonna turn in too. Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Jos slept in a recliner that night, thankfully —peacefully. Even with nurses coming in every hour or so to check your vitals. The events of the day have really worn the two of you out. Margot came by early next morning while you were still asleep. Jos had already woken up for a little while, the nurse had also just came by for one last check. Then, you woke up. “Good morning.” Jos and Margot greeted you, almost in unison.

“The doctor will be by in a minute to explain the procedure again before they bring her downstairs.”

Jos and Margot followed you down to the MRI suite. Then left after you were completely under. Margot took Jos out for breakfast while they waited for you to be done. It usually took an hour— according to the doctor. But since you were sedated, it’d take some more time since you would have to he held in a recovery area so they could monitor you after the anaesthesia.

“She’ll be okay, Jos.”

“I know. Thanks to you.” Jos bit back a laugh, “It just sucks to see her like this now. She can’t do so much of what she used to love and still has to keep her grades up. She’s really trying her best but sometimes I can just tell she’s struggling.”

“She has a great support system. But of course, you…you mean the most to her. I know it’s daunting to have to step up and be her caregiver on days like these ones, but your Dad and I are always here. Don’t hesitate to come to us for help with anything— I’m serious.”

Jos nodded solemnly, “Thanks, Mom.”

As if on cue, Margot receives a call from the hospital. Jos looks at her hopefully. “She came through it great, and she’s already awake and asking for you.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Jos heaved a sigh of relief.

————

Jos was the first one to step back into your hospital room and immediately gave you a hug. “Hi, love.” She rubs your back, “Hi. You’re okay, baby.” Despite being warned by the side effects of anaesthesia, Jos was still a little shocked by your crying and overall ‘loopiness’.

“She woke up with nausea so it’ll likely stay for the duration until it wears off completely.” The nurse warned, “She was given a medication to counter that effect but it still happens with some patients. So—”

You roughly pulled away from Jos, swallowing harshly as you made eye contact with your nurse. She calmly grabbed the emesis bucket and handed it to Jos, who was nearer to you. And Jos just stuck it under your chin to catch the spillage, as if on reflex. “You’re fine, baby. Don’t look at it, don’t look at it.”

While they took care of the bucket, you just laid back down and shut your eyes…not caring about anything else. A doctor came in a little later to check on you, but you didn’t remember it. You could only remember yourself nearly throwing up on the doctor. Which was painfully embarrassing but you didn’t have the energy to care, still feeling the drowsiness. “The scan showed a tumor on the left side of her lower abdomen- in the muscle wall. It has grown somewhat since we last saw her, but regardless, she’ll need to go for a biopsy to determine what we’re dealing with…”

That’s what you heard before drifting back to sleep with Jos holding your hand and squeezing it.

When you woke up again, you were discharged from hospital and given a prescription for stronger pain meds— the one that they gave you intravenously and made you very sleepy. Again, Margot was driving. This time back to their house. Her Dad and siblings said hi to you but quickly left you alone so you could rest. Jos helped you take a shower before letting you sleep. “Do you still feel like you might get sick?”

“A little.” You admit, leaning your head back to let the warm water run through your hair.

“We’ll put a bin right beside the bed, okay?” Jos promised, “I’ll stay with you till you feel better.”

“Jos, don’t be crazy. Just get on with your day, have dinner with your family.”

She chuckles, “Crazy? Yeah, I love you like crazy.”

You cracked a smile, not saying anything else while she helped you wash up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jos.”

“Me neither. Can’t imagine a life without you.” She wraps her arms around you from behind briefly, “I know some days are very hard and seem like there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, but I will always be here to do whatever it takes to make you feel better. Because life is so worth it, and isn’t all just about the bad days. It can be pretty sweet too. We just have to learn…hammer down a routine and stick to it when we need to.”

“Thank you. For being right by my side. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be silly.” She laughed lightly, the sound like music to your ears, “I’m okay now, don’t even worry about that. Just needed some time to process it all. Don’t ever apologise for feeling what you need to feel.”

“I love you.” You say, a soft sigh falls from your lips.

“I love you more.” Jos answered, turning you around to press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you even more.” You insisted.

Jos plants a kiss on your temple, grinning, “Oh, I love you the most.”

🏷️ Tag list: @auliisflower @ludoesartnstuffs @reneeswif3

[delimeful]

taking the fall (4)

warnings: pain, injury, mentions of captivity

-

Roman woke to throbbing pain in his leg and an uncannily soft surface below him.

He resisted the urge to groan theatrically as he was unwillingly dragged back to consciousness, and then resisted the urge to groan harder as he recalled just what had happened before he passed out.

He’d been seen. After all his careful planning, his little one-in-a-lifetime excursion had still landed him in the hands of a human. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that Logan had left him alone just because he’d fallen out of sight for a moment and then passed out like a wimp who couldn’t even handle a little bone-breaking.

Humans often lived in blissful ignorance, but not ‘lack of object permanence’ levels of it. Logan had definitely seen him fall, and odds were that he was now in the human’s clutches. Which was bad.

Tiny furniture hobbies aside, the guy was a textbook nerd, which was only barely a step down from an actual scientist. Roman wouldn’t be surprised at all if he woke up in one of those clear glass vials that scientists were always using on TV. Would that be better or worse than a jar? Probably worse, but if he could tip it over…

He dragged his thoughts away from the hypotheticals, well aware that he was stalling. Whatever he was laying on now, it certainly wasn’t glass.

Hesitantly, he peeked one eye open a tiny bit.

A pillow. It looked absolutely bizarre from this angle, his body just barely heavy enough to sink in and cause a few wrinkles in the fabric, but it was still recognizable as one of the huge fluffy pillows that normally rested on the human’s bed.

He turned his head a little further, and found that the pillow was on the desk that he’d previously taken a dive off of. The miniature set was still present to one side, surprisingly enough. Perhaps less time than he thought had passed, if it hadn’t been sent off to wherever Logan had promised to take it yesterday?

Or perhaps Logan had decided to forgo that responsibility in favor of his exciting new discovery. Roman shuddered.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

The voice nearly made Roman jump out of his skin, and he couldn’t help but freeze guiltily, totally giving away his awakeness. He craned his head up and saw that Logan was sitting on the desk chair, pushed back a few feet from the desk, a tiny dresser in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.

That was… considerably less menacing than he’d been expecting. “What are you doing?”

Logan blinked at him, nonplussed. “Wood detailing?”

Roman squinted at him suspiciously, trying to figure out what nefarious plans one could enact with the details of a tiny dresser. Perhaps it was supposed to be a part of some sick enclosure that the human was designing for him? He had wanted Roman to talk about the chair, of all things, so maybe he needed a tiny victim to test out his furniture.

That wasn’t exactly torture, but he still needed to escape. His presence here risked every other borrower in the building and out of it. Growing more somber, he testingly shifted his leg, trying to figure just how effective the human-applied splint actually was.

… Ouch.

“Is it sufficient?” Logan asked, unknowingly echoing his thoughts as he leaned over slightly to peer down at him. Roman pulled on his fiercest scowl, and was gratified to see the human retreat slightly. “I have pain medicine, but I was uncertain about the proper dosage, so I decided to wait until you woke up to see what you wanted to do.”

“Oh, I just bet you want me to take pain medicine,” Roman shot back sharply, ignoring the fairly nonsensical nature of what he’d just said. Like he was helping a human figure out the best ways to drug a borrower!

“... I do?” Logan replied, sounding downright confused by his hostility. “Normally, I would encourage anyone with injuries as significant as yours to seek out professional medical attention, but after witnessing your fear of me, I assumed that you would prefer to not be exposed to more humans.”

“I wasn’t afraid!” Roman snapped indignantly, and then paused as the rest of that spiel caught up with him. He was unspeakably glad that the human hadn’t been dumb enough to waltz into a human sickbay with him, but-- “I would prefer to not be exposed to you, either, BFG!”

“BFG?”

“Big Frustrating Giant!”

Logan looked dubious, but carefully averted his gaze. It wasn’t what Roman had meant, but those huge eyes being off of him were admittedly a relief. He shuffled his body to the side slightly, trying to ignore the sharp pains from jostling his leg.

“I will remind you, you are the one who came into my apartment, not the other way around,” Logan said, frowning slightly but keeping his eyes locked on the furniture in his hand. “Why were you there?”

“I’m afraid it’s none of your business,” Roman sniffed haughtily, ignoring the way his heart had sped up in his chest at the idea of making the human angry.

“Apologies, I don’t mean my apartment. I’ve already discerned that you likely find sustenance and other helpful items in human living spaces, going by the ease with which you traverse large terrain and the repurposed human items that make up your belongings,” Logan clarified, casual as anything. “I was asking why you were in my stage miniature. There is no food in it, and you must know that I would notice if anything went missing.”

Roman stared at him, feeling the blood drain from his face at the offhand way that the human had correctly guessed a lot about how borrowerkind survived, all from Roman’s unconscious presence.

It was beans like this that the rules had been designed for, so of course he would be the one to catch Roman. He set his jaw, resolving not to say anything else that might give anything away to this wannabe Sherlock.

-

Logan glanced up from the layer of drying varnish that he’d been staring at for the past thirty seconds, wondering if maybe the tiny person had fallen back into unconsciousness.

But no, despite their silence they were still awake and glaring at him, brow furrowed and arms crossed firmly. He tilted his head curiously, trying to indicate that he was listening, but it seemed they didn’t plan to answer at all.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he said, hurriedly looking back to the miniature he was fiddling with in an effort to not stress the tiny person out any further. “I simply wanted to see if there was anything you needed that I could provide you, since I’m partially responsible for your injury.”

“Partially?” they echoed, incredulous.

Logan nodded. “I startled you, and your attempt to flee led to injury. I should have known better than to move so quickly, particularly with the disparity in our sizes.”

“That was a strategic retreat,” they emphasized, “and you never would have caught me if you’d moved slowly. I’ll have you know I’m no slouch.”

Caught them…?

“My intention wasn’t to grab you,” he said. “I was reaching for one of the chairs to try and compare the scale. If it was incorrect, it would have been obvious when put side by side with you.”

“Yes, yes, I already guessed that you have nefarious furniture-related plots for your poor captive, you don’t have to explain it.” They were rolling their eyes when Logan glanced at them, and seemed to be an inch or two away from where he’d originally placed them on the pillow.

It felt to Logan as though they were talking cross-ways, even more so than his usual pop culture reference confusion(and didn’t it just figure that a tiny person that lived in the walls was more familiar with human colloquialisms than him?) during conversation. Perhaps it was due to their less than fortuitous first meeting?

“It seems like there might be some misconceptions here,” he tried. “I’m not keeping you captive.”

The stranger lifted a skeptical eyebrow, spreading their arms to gesture at the surrounding area. “Aren’t you, though?”

Logan followed the gesture, eyebrows drawn in. As far as he knew, a pillow on top of his desk hadn’t turned into an impenetrable prison within the last few moments. “No. I’m not.”

“So if I were to, say, walk out right now, you’d just be all peachy-keen with it?” they asked, almost condescending in their doubt. “You wouldn’t try to stop me from leaving?”

Logan paused, a firm denial on the tip of his tongue. “Are there others like you nearby?”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, going by the way their tiny hands went white-knuckled for a moment.

“No,” they answered mulishly, “I’m the only one of my kind. And I’ll have you know, if there were others-- which there’s not-- I would never sell out my hypothetical fellows for my own freedom!”

“That’s…,” Logan sighed, deciding not to mention how incredibly dubious he was of the likelihood that there was only one of a species. “That’s not what I meant. You clearly pursue an active lifestyle, I just wanted to ensure that there would be someone to support you and help you recover from your injuries. You won’t be able to even walk on that limb for a fair bit of time without permanently damaging it.”

Logan thought for a moment that he’d gotten through to them, witnessing the way trepidation lingered in their expression when they looked down at their leg, but then they shook their head firmly.

“That’s just an excuse! I know that you’re planning on keeping me, humans always do. I’d rather deal with a permanent limp than be a pet in one of your little dollhouses,” they spat, vitriol in every word. “So either let me go or admit your foul plans!”

The words were sharp, designed to incite, but Logan was used to scanning for the tiniest of flaws in his work, and he could spot the subtle signs of fear that his tiny visitor was just barely concealing. Clenched fists to hide shaking hands, the curl to their shoulders that suggested they wanted to curl up defensively, even their expression wobbled slightly when Logan spent a moment too long looking at them.

He took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in his own frame and put them a little more at ease. An impossible task, considering they expected him to-- to know that they were a talking, feeling person and try to ‘keep them’ anyhow, but it helped clear his head.

“What will it take?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Um, what?” they asked, thrown off.

“To get you to stay here, just until you heal. I’m asking this of you, so it’s only reasonable that you ask for something in exchange,” Logan said. “If we can’t come to an agreement, I’ll leave you to your own devices, but there has to be something you want badly enough to remain here for a few weeks.”

“And what, you’ll just give it to me and let me leave after I’m all healed up?” they asked, continuing their trend of acting like a future in which he acted with normal human decency was an impossibility.

“Yes,” Logan answered, as earnest as he could manage. “That’s part of the arrangement. I would also like to know your name and pronouns, though that is secondary to being allowed to treat you.”

“What if I said you weren’t allowed to grab me? Or touch me at all?” they asked.

“That would be acceptable,” Logan replied without hesitation, mentally trying to figure out how non contact would alter a treatment plan.

“And you… you aren’t allowed to take notes on me! Or pictures!” they continued, watching him intently. He kept his expression agreeable, only nodding. “And you have to give me food, you can’t withhold it or make it part of another deal.”

“Medical treatment for someone on bedrest also includes things like meals and mental enrichment,” Logan replied, concealing the displeasure he felt at the idea that someone else would have tried that in his position. He really did hope these were all hypotheticals.

“And… and…,” they cast about, looking for something else to add to their ‘ridiculous’ demands, “I also want a sword!”

Logan paused, admittedly caught off guard. “A functional one?”

“Yeah-- yes, that's right! I want a sword perfectly sized to me, entirely functional, or the deal is off!” they replied, smug as though they thought they’d finally found something he’d refuse.

Unfortunately for him, Logan wasn’t the type to be deterred by a challenge. “I’ll have to go through some prototypes, but it can’t be too different from some metal decor I’ve worked on in the past.”

“Sorry, what now?” they asked.

Logan was already reaching for a post-it to jot down ideas for the base source of metal-- A nail? Or perhaps a piece of old silverware?-- eyes bright with anticipation. “I’m saying that you have a deal. You’ll stay here, and I’ll make you a sword.”

Caught up in schematics as he was, he completely missed his guest’s exasperated groan.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures 

Read on AO3

~

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something �� no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited. 

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.  

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

~

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde​ @blackberries45​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi​ @direnightshade​ @mariesackler​ @leatherboundbirate​ @blowthatpieceofjunk​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @poedameronloverx​ @millenialcatlady​ @jynz-andtonic​ @lightsinthedistancee​ @star-killer-md​ @morby​ @modernpaw​ @cornmousequeen​ @paterson-blue​

Just let me know if you would like to be removed or added, no judgement!

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

Little snippet

I've been writing on a little A/U fic on the side, just for fluff reasons and... hey.. why not? :D It's of course once again centered around Ace, with lots of Marco and other WB and Spade Pirates, and because I'm self-indulgent as fuck, also with Saki (my Spade Pirates OC).

So far, Ace is a fireman (and actually the chief of the division, since I want to keep some similarities), with Marco running the Medical center (again, division chief; Saki is working for him), Thatch has a nice restaurant, Deuce is working in the medical center... :D any other ideas for other WB/Spade Pirates?

Anyhow, here a little snippet, because I thought it's at least a bit cute/funny; it's from Chapter 3, when Ace gets to know Saki's name.

“I see...” So that was her name. Apparently happy with the pictures she had taken, she handed her camera to Tate again and then prepared to jump down from her perch in the tree, hesitating at the last moment and apparently reconsidering whether she really wanted to take the direct way down. Marco seemed to have noticed, too, because he huffed a laugh and then called out to her: “Hey, Saki! Need help?”

Her head swiveled around in surprise and her gaze wandered from Marco to Ace and then Deuce. Ace registered the way she squared her shoulders and straightened and had been absolutely fine with remaining a silent observer until she shouted back: “I’m not a cat stuck in a tree, Marco!”

He couldn’t help himself then, it was simply too tempting and he could resist everything… except temptation. “Are you sure? You see, I’m a professional when it comes to that and you do seem a bit stuck there to me. I’d be glad to be of assistance!”

The look of indignation that quickly took over her expression was well worth the cheap joke, he thought and chuckled when she stuck out her tongue at him. Not deigning to answer him, she instead turned her back and then hopped off the branch and landed in a crouch and for a moment he thought she’d stuck the landing – but then she slowly tilted backward and landed on her bum with a squawk he almost couldn’t hear. Almost.

He quickly lifted the bottle to his lips to hide his reaction and turned to the side, hoping she wouldn’t see his body shaking with suppressed laughter. Only then he noticed Deuce staring at him with that long-suffering expression he always wore when he thought Ace was doing something particularly stupid. Which was often, and, to be fair, sometimes entirely justified. He wasn’t sure what had brought it on now because he was perfectly behaved, all things considered, and he was pretty sure it hadn’t been the bad joke.

Marco was only shaking his head, watching her, and by the time Ace had himself under control enough to dare to look back, she was already on her feet again, dusting off her rather shapely derriere, as he was forced to notice. The dark and tight-fitting Capri pants she wore hugged her form quite nicely.

She turned to look at them with her hands on her hip, cheeks clearly tinted with color. “See? I got down just fine by myself!”

“I’d give it a 6 out of 10,” Marco said dryly and didn’t hide his lopsided grin when she flipped him off in a wordless response.

Ace grinned when he saw her eyes shift to him, a scowl already in place. “8 out of 10. The landing needs a bit more work, but otherwise perfect.” And rather entertaining – not that he would say that out loud. Not only was he not flipped off, but her indignation also seemed to melt from one moment to the next as she bowed for them, one leg gracefully angled to the side in a faint imitation of a curtsey. Her ponytail bobbed at the movement.

“Next show will be tomorrow, don’t forget to buy your tickets early, we’re almost sold out!” she called and then turned to Tate, who slung an arm around her shoulder, laughing, and pulling her back to their group.

[brutal-nemesis]

Getting Tortured by a Ghost 😳

If you remember the tags on this post, you know what’s about to go down :)

Character Picrews

Ingredients: spooky ghost shenanigans, implied mistreatment of mental hospital patients (really just funky spooky messed up mental hospital stuff), tooth pulling, temporary paralyzation, noncon stripping/clothes change, needles

Honestly, Finn didn’t mind the dare. He’d never scared easily, and he was actually excited to get to spend the night exploring the abandoned mental hospital. The multiple reports of hauntings didn’t faze him; all that stuff was bogus. He was more afraid of getting caught trespassing than he was of creaking doors and gusts of wind. 

The place absolutely had the look of a generic haunted building, hallways filled with abandoned, dusty objects and rooms cluttered with debris. He wandered around, his bright flashlight making it easy to see in the dark building. He was on the second floor now, walking down a long hallway lined with doors. On a whim, he opened one and stepped inside.

The room must have been for examination or something of the sort. There was a padded chair sort of like you’d see at the dentist in the center of the room, with cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Finn looked inside a few and wasn’t surprised to see rusty tools intended for...something medical. He assumed. Turning around, he looked at the chair again. You know what, it would be a good spot for one of the selfies he was supposed to take every hour or so to prove he’d stayed the whole night. Shrugging off his bag, he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the chair. 

When it was about as clean as it was going to get, Finn plopped down and pulled out his phone. After finding a good angle that showed off the room, too, he put on his most confident smirk and took the picture. He briefly glanced at the photo to make sure it was good and went to put his phone back in his pocket. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to miss his pocket completely and ended up dropping his phone on the ground. Signing, he bent over the edge of the chair to pick it up, but while doing this, he noticed something...odd.

There were strips of leather dangling from the edges of the chair. They had holes, like a belt would. But what were they...Finn jumped up out of the chair, backing away from it in horror. Now that he looked at them, those were definitely for...for…strapping someone down. To think that people, very sick people, but people nonetheless, had been restrained here was...frightening. Not because that magically meant that their ghosts were going to manifest, but because something awful had happened here. He collected his belongings quickly, wanting to get away from the unsettling chair. 

But right as he was about to start walking out, the door slammed closed. All on its own.

No, no, there was an explanation, it was drafty in here, the doors in his house had done that sometimes if he had a window open or something. He’d be able to open it just fine, reach for the handle, twist, and pull...pull…pull...

Why wasn’t it opening it’s like it was bolted shut from the other side but these doors didn’t have those kind of locks at least he thought so maybe they did and he didn’t notice and it had locked by accident he’d be fine someone would come looking for him in the morning he’d be fi-

Behind him, the lights flickered on. Lights that weren’t supposed to be working because this building hadn’t had power in decades. He had to be dreaming at this point, there was no way this was real, maybe there was some weird gas leaking in somewhere and he was hallucinating because this can’t be real this can’t be real. But, to be sure the light wasn’t really on...

Finn stifled a cry of surprise as he saw the room behind him. It had become completely spotless, everything in fantastic repair, gleaming metal tools laid out on the countertops, the chair no longer losing stuffing. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, no it was the woman standing next to the chair, dressed as a nurse with a clipboard in her hand, smiling at him warmly.

“Good evening, Mr. Waltersson. Won’t you please sit down?” 

“How do you know my-you’re not real.” Finn gripped his flashlight tightly to keep his hands from shaking as he backed up into the door. “You’re not real and I’m not sitting in that fucking chair.”

“Now, now, that won’t do, Mr. Waltersson,” the nurse tutted. “You need to sit down so we can get started on your treatment.”

“I don’t need treatment I’m not a patient here and this place is abandoned and this isn’t real.” 

“Those delusions of yours will need to be corrected,” the nurse muttered as she wrote on her clipboard. “And you,” she looked up, pointing at him, “need to sit down.”

And in that instant, Finn found himself sitting in that infernal chair. He tried to get up, run away, anything, but he found he couldn’t move a muscle. “Wh-what the fuck let me go-”

“Patient resisted treatment and had to be restrained,” The nurse said as she wrote, waving a hand towards the chair. Finn looked on in horror as the leather straps rose up all by themselves and slowly started to encircle him. He commanded his body to move, to squirm, to get away before it was too late, but it stayed impossibly still. He could only watch as the straps slowly tightened around him, first his ankles, then his thighs, then his wrists, and then his chest. He felt a final one slither over his forehead, and right after it had tightened, he found he could move again. He struggled and squirmed desperately, but the straps wouldn’t give. He was trapped.

“There we go. Now let’s get you changed and the treatment can start.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear.

“You can’t-you can’t do this to me this isn’t real-”

“Isn’t it?” She was looking right at him, and for the first time he saw her eyes, or lack thereof, gaping coal black voids that bored right into him. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Finn’s clothes were gone, replaced with a flimsy hospital gown. He shivered in the sudden chill, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

“What the fu-give me my clothes back!” 

“We wouldn’t want to get blood on them, now would we?”

“Blood-you can’t hurt me you’re not real!” Finn wasn’t sure if he was protesting or trying to reassure himself at this point, but it didn’t matter, because this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He’d snap out of it soon, he was sure of it, because she was going to try to hurt him and it wouldn’t work because you can’t feel pain in dreams, as real as the leather straps and hospital gown felt, they weren’t real, they weren’t, and he was going to wake up from this awful nightmare soon.

“Let’s begin the treatment, shall we?” The woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and Finn flinched at the snap they made. “You need to make peace with reality, Mr. Waltersson, and this will help you with that.” She waved a finger, and a scalpel levitated off the counter and started to approach Finn’s arm. He tried his best to remain calm, reminding himself that she couldn’t hurt him because this was all just in his head.

The cold tip of the scalpel pressed into the flesh of his arm, fuck it felt so real, and as it started to move downwards, slicing into him, he couldn’t help but gasp at the pain because there was pain it was real this was real but no no it couldn’t be there’s no such thing as ghosts but how, how else could this be happening to him? The scalpel made multiple cuts in his arm, each one burning more than the last.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Waltersson? Ready to accept reality yet?” The nurse leaned over him, a deceptively warm smile on her face.

“This isn’t-just because this hurts doesn’t mean it’s real. I-I could have been injured some other way and my brain is trying to justify it because there’s no such thing as ghosts,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “It looks like you’ll need something more...intense. But before that…” she reached out to touch him, but her hand passed right through, filling the area with an unbearable cold. She laughed darkly and sat right on top of his lap, passing through him but not the chair. All he ended up feeling was a horrible icy chill and a slight pressure. 

“Get off of me. Real nurses don’t do this, anyway,” Finn growled, trying to disguise his fear and discomfort.

“The rules stopped applying to me a long time ago, Mr. Waltersson. In fact, I don’t know if they ever did.” Finn’s skin crawled as her gloved hand traced up along his body, leaving a trail of icy cold in its wake. It settled around his throat, the cold and pressure making it slightly difficult for him to breathe. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. But I suppose that makes it more fun for me. I’ve always liked the feisty ones.” Finn’s eyes widened in fear. If this woman was a ghost, had she...had she treated patients like this? The thought terrified him more than his current, very much not-real predicament did. 

At least, until he saw a pair of pliers floating towards him, the nurse smiling at him as they did. “Open wide.” He clamped his mouth shut tightly, fruitlessly trying to turn his head away. She sighed, and he soon felt the pliers pinch his nose shut, making it impossible for him to breathe. Finn held out for as long as he could, but eventually he caved, opening his mouth and gulping in air to relieve his burning lungs. The pliers wormed into his mouth, clamping one of his lower molars in their jaws.

All the while, the nurse watched him with a sick smile on her face, her aura of warm professionalism starting to disappear. Finn whined, hyperventilating as the pliers began to yank at his tooth. He’d needed to have a tooth pulled as a kid, so the intense pressure was familiar, but the accompanying pain was something horribly, horribly new. It exploded in his mouth when the tooth finally came out, and he felt tears leak from his eyes. This...this was far too intense to be anything but reality. The ghost laughed maniacally, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his own cries. 

When he had started to calm down, she leaned in, her face right in front of his. “Well, Mr. Waltersson, do you understand now?”

“I-I understand that you’re a sadistic bitch,” Finn said as blood dripped from his mouth. He tried to spit it in her face, but it passed right through and ended up all over the gown. She just smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The fear behind your bravado is all too obvious.” She stood and waved a hand, summoning a bottle from one of the cabinets. “Let’s get you taken care of, then.” The bottle unscrewed itself and dumped part of its contents on Finn’s injured arm. The wounds lit up with a horrible, stinging pain, and he fought the urge to scream. He tried to stay as still as possible as a bandage wound around his arm, just wanting to get this nightmare over with. 

His resolve faltered as a syringe floated into view, already filled with...something.

“W-wait no what the fuck is in that thing don’t you dare-”

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s just a sedative. Come and play with me again, won’t you, Finnegan?” She placed her hand in his as the needle slid into the crook of his elbow, injecting its contents into his veins.

“I abso...lutely...will…not…” he gasped as he slid into unconsciousness.

Finn jolted awake what felt like seconds later, so startled to find himself still in the chair that he fell out of it. He stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, his mind racing. That...that hadn’t fucking happened, had it? He was back in his own clothes, thank God, but his arm and lower jaw were in a suspicious amount of pain. He reached with his tongue, and...his tooth was gone. He stood and carefully pulled off his hoodie to find his arm bloodied and bandaged. So then...that was all real, the pain and the chair and the straps and the pliers and the ghost nurse and her horribly empty eyes.

A terrible thought formed in the back of his mind. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands, going to the photo app. There, in the selfie he took right before everything went to shit...it was faint, but there was definitely someone standing behind him. But that wasn’t what scared him most. No, it was the photo that was taken after it. 

It was of him, lying in the chair, still restrained and wearing the bloodied hospital gown, very much unconscious.

He finally let himself scream.

Tags because y’all said 👀👀: @spookyboywhump @befuddled-calico-whump

[justthehiddleswrites]

Anesthesia | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Tom suffers a serious car accident and the reader is the nurse on duty in the ER. Tom and anesthesia don't mix and Tom acts very out of character. Can Tom regain his composure or will he continue to shamelessly flirt with the reader? And is Benedict going to work all of this to his advantage?

Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Anesthesia Makes people act crazy, Tom quoting Shakespeare

-

“Tom?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered, and he blinked several times, adjusting to the bright white light.

“Nurse! He is waking up!”

Nurse? Waking up? Tom reached out and cold metal hit his hands. Safety rails. The air was cool, dry, and sterile. As he attempted to sit up, he felt a cold air hit his bare back.

“Hey buddy, lie back down. You gave us quite a scare,” the familiar voice reassured him as he lowered himself back down to the bed.

Tom turned his head to the sound and once he saw Benedict’s face he smiled. Ben smiled back.

“Welcome back to Earth, Tom.”

“Thanks, what happened?”

The last thing Tom remembered was climbing into the stunt car to rehearse the big action shot. After that, it was just flashes of fire, screams and sirens.

“The brakes failed and the stunt coordinator doesn’t know what happened. But the important thing is you got out alive.”

Tom attempted to sit up again and felt winces of pain throughout his body.

“What was the damage?”

Benedict looked down.

“To you or the car?”

“The car… of course me! I feel as though a Mack truck hit me.”

“You are not far off. You broke your clavicle, wrist, and a few ribs. Um… lacerations everywhere and a… a ruptured spleen.”

Tom twisted to see his friend’s face better and felt the stitches and bandages strain. He winced at the sharp pain on his left side. Benedict hit the call button and in minutes, the nurse arrived.

She smiled as she approached the bed.

“Feeling pain?”

Tom nodded.

She looked at your chart before adding some pain meds to Tom’s IV.

“That should do. I would suggest lying down and the doctor should be in about twenty minutes.”

Tom thanked her and couldn’t help but notice her gazing over her shoulder as she left the room. Her smile barely contained her giggles. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Do they know who I am?”

Benedict averted his eyes and rose from the chair, feigning interest in the generic artwork on the wall. Tom narrowed his eyes at the clear avoidance of the question.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Oh boy, you don’t remember anything when you got here, do you?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, what happened?”

“You were in a lot of pain. Tell me have you ever been under anesthesia before?”

“Maybe, once or twice…” Tom questioned, but then he stared his friend down for answers.

“What did I say, Ben?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Sit down and tell me, and I will decide if you live or die.”

Dejected, Ben returned to the chair and let a sigh out.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

Four Hours Earlier

The gurney burst through the ER doors just fifteen minutes after you started your shift. Emergency room shifts are never boring but physically and emotionally draining. You put down your cup of coffee and headed in to assess the patient.

A man lied, groaning on the gurney. His face covered in scrapes and blood staining his ginger whiskers. His left wrist sat at an unnatural angle and his shirt cut away by the paramedics to administer help.

“Car accident,” the EMT relayed, “stunt gone wrong.”

A specific hazard unique to Los Angeles. They wheeled him to the examination room and put him onto the bed with care. He wore a C-collar, but the jostling stirred the man. His eyelids fluttered open and his blue eyes work to focus on his surroundings.

“Hey…” you looked down at his chart, “Tom. How are you doing?”

“Pain.”

“I know you are in pain, but where?”

Tom gestured to the left side of his abdomen.

“Okay.” You grabbed some morphine and added it to his IV. “Any allergies?”

He shook his head.

“Anyone come with you?”

As if on cue, Benedict pulled back the curtain.

“I did.”

You recognized the man standing before you. Benedict Cumberbatch was quite the movie star.

“Really?” You attempted to keep your cool. This was no time for fan girling.

Within minutes, Benedict could communicate the information about not only the accident but Tom’s medical history as well. It had all been on file with the production company.

The doctor came in and did a quick examination.

“We need to get a CT scan and X-rays. Looks like there may be internal injuries.”

You nodded as you prepared to wheel Tom down the hall.

“Ready to go for a ride?” you asked.

Tom nodded and gave a goofy smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N. That’s a beautiful name. My name is Tom Fucking Hiddleston.”

The drugs were doing their job.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. We will take you for some tests.”

“But I didn’t study!” he sounded dismayed.

You could not suppress your laugh.

“I think you will be fine.”

Tom grabbed your hand and looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

“Will you help me study?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Tom continued to babble on for the rest of the trip to imaging. He spoke about how nice you smelled and how pretty your eyes look. The full court press of flirting. As you reached the room, you and the other nurse lifted Tom onto the machine.

“Here you go.”

Tom grabbed your hand once again.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared of the dark.”

While his words spoke of her fear, his eyes and smile said something else.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hiddleston?”

His smile only grew.

“Is it working?”

You leaned in to his ear to whisper, “No, but the drugs are.”

Tom pouted.

“Not fair.”

“But you are cute.”

His face lit up once again.

“I came, saw and overcame.” Tom was being dramatic.

At that point, the other nurse started up the machine, and you walked away to let the rest of nurses to care for his needs. After his scans, you headed back to the waiting area. You found Benedict pacing the floor in anticipation. His long fingers alternating between steepling in front of his face and raking through his hair. As you approached, you cleared your throat.

“Yes?” his voice shared a tone of concern and hopefulness.

“A few broken bones but the big thing is that his spleen has ruptured. He needs surgery right away.”

Ben’s face fell.

“Will he be okay?”

You nodded.

“He will make a full recovery. Would you like to see him before they send him in to operating?”

You led Ben back to where they were prepping Tom for surgery. The anesthesiologist added drugs to the IV and Tom was now in a full hospital gown. His tattered rags of clothes in the garbage.

“No fair!” Tom bellowed as you entered with Ben throwing the thin sheet over his legs. The two of you shared a knowing look, “You have seen me naked but I have not had the chance to see you naked.”

You leaned into Benedict.

“It would seem that the medicine does not agree with your friend,” you smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I rather like him like this, so not proper. So not Tom Hiddleston.”

You smiled as you looked upon Tom who, in vain, tried to cover his body. Even loopy on drugs, he charmed and warmed your heart.

“I will leave you to it.”

As you turned to leave, Tom shouted at you.

“I love thee, Y/N. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not withstanding the poor and untempering effect of visage. And therefore tell me, most fair Y/N, will you have me?”

You suppressed a small giggle.

“I will see you later,” you let them both know as you shut the door.

As soon as the door latched, Tom grabbed Benedict’s arm and pulled him down close.

“Ben! Ben! Have you met my wife?”

Benedict screwed his face up with confusion.

“The nurse? That is just the drugs talking, Tom. You barely know her.”

“Nonsense. She will be my wife and you shall be my best man.”

Benedict looked at Tom with an exasperated face but Tom’s only contained earnest. With a chuckle, Benedict conceded.

“Very well, Tom. I will be your best man.”

Tom slapped Benedict’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. As my best man, I require you to acquire my future bride’s number.”

Benedict could not resist at this point to play along with his friend’s drug-addled fantasy.

“I will, on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Name your firstborn after me.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then consider the number yours.”

Tom’s face beamed and as if on cue, the nurses came to wheel Tom into surgery.

***

“Oh dear, God. I quoted Shakespeare.”

Tom hung his head and his face and neck turned a bright shade of red.

“Yep. The Henry the Fifth wooing speech too. Honestly, it was one of your better performances. Might I suggest doing all your roles drugged from now on.”

Tom shot Benedict a withering look.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I can’t show my face to her again.”

At that moment, the door opened, and you entered. The color drained from Tom’s face, while the smile grew on Benedict’s.

“Y/N!” Benedict cooed, “We were just talking about you. So nice of you to stop in.”

Your shift ended half an hour ago, but you wanted to check in on Tom before going home. Today was not the first time a patient hit on you, although they are usually not an award-winning actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare. But, you would remain ever the professional. You checked the chart before wishing the two men well.

As you turned to exit, Benedict walked you out.

“Thank you, Y/N for attending to Tom.”

“My pleasure. Even under the influence, he is quite charming.”

Benedict took this opportunity.

“Speaking about that…”

3 years later

“Tom!”

You yelled down the hall of your London home, beckoning your husband. At six months pregnant, getting up and down was no easy task. Tom rushed to your side. He gave you his arm and with a rocking start; you extracted yourself from the chair.

“Thanks, darling.”

“I am at your beck and call.”

You rubbed your swollen belly as you waddled your way down the hall. Tom followed you to the kitchen.

“Now about names for this little young man here.”

Tom grew ashen. He thought he could avoid this conversation, but it seems his luck had run out.

“Yeah, I have I mentioned today that I love you.”

Tom kissed your lips, and you looked at him with distrust.

“What have you done?”

Tom smiled and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.

“I may have promised to name the child after Benedict.”

Tom flinched.

“You what? Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Which was?”

“Your phone number.”

With that, Tom took off down the hallway. You smiled as you walked with much effort behind him.

“We are NOT naming our child after breakfast food!”

You heard Tom’s laughter fill the house.

[vannahfanfics]

New Possibilities

Category: Romance, Friendship

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Hiyori Iki, Yato, Yukiné

Hiyori’s eyebrows were scrunched tightly together, forming a deep furrow in the middle of her brow. Her rose-colored eyes stared intently at the letter she held in her hands, addressed to her in neat, printed letters. The addressee was a sticker with “University of Tokyo College of Clinical Medicine” printed in bold, black letters over the circular orange-and-blue logo. Here in her hands, she held her destiny—the decision on her admittance or rejection from the top medical school in Japan. 

As her fingers began to shake, she squeezed her eyes shut so she could force herself to breathe deeply in and out. There was no time to be nervous! If she got to in her head, she wouldn’t be able to open the letter! She squashed the feeling of nausea rising in her stomach before snapping her eyes open, rose irises burning with determination. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped the envelope around so she could tear open the top, careful not to accidentally rip the letter in the process. She let the envelope flutter to the floor after removing the folded piece of paper inside. She gulped while she stared at the blank white backside, nervousness rising once more inside her. With trembling fingers, she slowly straightened out the paper and skipped down to the first line of words printed on the fancy letterhead. 

“Dear Miss Iki, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…”  

Hiyori didn’t even finish the sentence, for a squeal burst out of her mouth, unable to be contained. She threw her arms in the air and began to jump around her room, delighted cries of “Yes, yes, yes!” gushing from her overjoyed body. She was going to medical school, the best medical school! She was going to be a doctor! 

She stopped hopping around to snap her face back to the letter, reading it once, twice, three times to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. No, there it was in black and white—Hiyori was accepted. Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away, just let them roll down her cheeks. This was one of the happiest days of her life, so a few happy tears were definitely in order. 

She hugged the letter to her chest, and the sound of the paper crinkling was music to her ears. 

I can’t wait to tell Yato!

~~~~~~~~~~

 Of course, societal norms dictated that Hiyori phone her parents first, which she did. Both of them were working, but they both screamed in triumph when Hiyori delivered the good news. They laughed, they cried, they gushed about Hiyori’s new possibilities, and Hiyori basked in the warm glow of their pride. However, the world did not stop turning even for such a celebratory cause, and so Hiyori eventually had to bid them adieu. That was all right, though; they would have a proper party once they returned home from work, and this gave Hiyori plenty of time to spread the news to the other important people in her life. 

Kofuku was sitting on the porch of her little shop when Hiyori came running up, cheeks pink from breathlessness. The goddess cocked her head to the side as the girl approached in such a tizzy, and then her gaze dropped to the opened letter flapping around in her hand. 

“Ahh! Hiyori, is it today?” the girl cried and jumped up while putting her hands together in delight. “Oh, oh, you probably want to tell Yato first—he’s in the back! Yukiné went down the street to get some bubble teas, so I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back to come see you! Now hurry, hurry! Daikoku and I want to hear, too!” 

“Thanks, Kofuku!” Hiyori grinned as she skirted around the porch, leaving the goddess to impatiently squirm while she trotted around the back of the small convenience store. She rounded the back of the building to the small yard behind, and she found Yato lazing about among the roots of a tree, eyes closed and hands resting behind his head. 

“Yato, Yato!” she cried, and he cracked a cyan eye open at the sound of her voice. She came bounding up to him, eyes sparkling. However, her legs finally gave out from all the frantic running, and so she collapsed on her knees at his side. “Oof…” 

‘“Did you run all the way here?” he chuckled as he sat up. Hiyori nodded with a mournful croon and rubbed her burning calves, prompting Yato to laugh. “Silly Hiyori, I know you love to see me, but—” he stopped his flirty joke when he caught sight of the letter in her lap. “... Is that what I think it is?” 

“Yes!” Hiyori squeezed out between gulps of air. She tossed her head up, flipping her disarrayed hair out of her face, and held up the letter proudly. “I was accepted to Tokyo University! I’m going to be a doctor, Yato!” 

It seemed to take him a moment to register the news. He blinked slowly, staring at the letter with a blank expression. Hiyori tilted her head to the side in confusion; wasn’t he happy for her? Just as she was about to inquire, his expression softened and he reached up to pat Hiyori’s head affectionately. 

“I knew you could do it, Hiyori. Congratulations,” he said with a sweet smile. Hiyori giggled as he ruffled her already wind-swept hair; his hand felt good, tousling the strands and running across her scalp. She enjoyed it for a second, then opened her eyes. Yato couldn’t wipe the sadness from his expression before Hiyori noticed it. He knew she saw, too, as he blushed and dropped his gaze to the grassy ground. His hand stayed atop her head, and Hiyori reached up to grab it while staring at him in confusion. 

“Yato… What is it?” 

He chewed on his lip while he debated answering. Hiyori lowered his hand to hold it in front of her chest, squeezing it with both of hers. Finally, his eyes flickered up to meet hers, and she was taken aback by how guilty and miserable he looked. 

“I shouldn’t… It’s selfish of me.” 

“Well, you can be a little selfish, Yato. I don’t mind.” 

A smile tugged at his lips, and he looked at her with amused hopelessness. I can’t resist when you say it like that, his expression said, and it made Hiyori’s heart thump in her chest. 

“I guess… It’s just finally hitting me that you’ll be leaving me, Hiyori.” 

“Huh? Who said I was leaving?” Hiyori blinked. Yato made a choking sound and reared back a little, obviously surprised by her blatant rebuttal. Hiyori smiled, pulling his hand to rest over her heart. “Yato, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Even if I’m going off to college, that doesn’t mean that we can’t be together anymore!” 

“You mean… You see me in your future, Hiyori?” 

Hiyori opened her eyes at that, a blush painting her cheeks. Yato was leaning forward now, his expression intense. Those cyan eyes burned with something unlike she’d ever seen, and it sent electricity buzzing through her nerves. Though she had the urge to run and hide, embarrassed by what was happening, she also wanted nothing more than to see where this would go. Squirming, she managed a little nod. 

“O-of course, Yato…” 

Of course, Yato was never surprised for long. That cocksure smirk spread over his lips, and as he leaned in a little further, a mischievous twinkle began to gleam in his bright blueish eyes. 

“Oh? What do you think about?” 

“I-I think about… You being there when I graduate…” she admitted. Oh, but that wasn’t all, and Yato knew it, too. It was like that roguish stare of his was magic, and it was pulling out all her deepest, darkest secrets with effortless ease. “I, um… I think about… U-us dating, and um… Getting married… And… Maybe… Having children…” 

Her voice grew smaller and smaller with each damning admission until she was shrinking into herself and whispering meekly. She hid her face behind his hand, which she was still holding like a treasure, while she looked at him with uncertain eyes. Yato just kept that same stupid smirk on his face the entire time, given no indication of how he felt about it. Anxiety began to roil in her belly. What if he would laugh at her? What if he didn’t feel the same? Yato was a trickster, but he wouldn’t be this mean, would he? 

No. Not my Yato.

“I’m relieved,” Yato said, and suddenly his expression was melting. He scooted a little closer to her, and his free hand pushed into the grass by her waist as he angled his body over hers until she was looking up into his face. He freed his other hand from her grip so he could caress her face—tracing a path down her cheek to her chin until his thumb traced the border of her lips. “I think about those things, too, Hiyori. I didn’t want them to be just thoughts.” 

“Yato… Are you saying…?” she asked quietly, but her voice failed her. She just looked at him pleadingly, and Yato’s smile somehow got impossibly softer even though it already felt like Hiyori was beginning to float in the clouds. 

“I’m saying that I love you, Hiyori, and I want to be a part of your future if you’ll let me,” Yato said. 

Hiyori sucked in a breath, and suddenly the tears came flooding back. She couldn’t stop them; she was so overwhelmed with happiness and relief and all the emotions in between. All she could do was nod emphatically. Yato chuckled gently, using his hand to thumb her tears away until she managed to quiet down into little sniffles. As she blinked repeatedly, trying to dislodge the little salty droplets still clinging to her lashes, she didn’t notice Yato’s face closing in. 

His lips met hers, and the first thing that struck her was how soft his lips were. They were like silk, perfect against her own. Hiyori melted into him, eyes fluttering as she savored the meeting of their mouths and everything that meant. 

They pulled apart, but only by a few centimeters. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Yato began to caress her cheek again. I could get used to this…

“Hiyoriiiiiiii!” came a sudden wail, and the two of them sprang apart like they’d been struck. They hurried to find a position that made it look like they weren’t just kissing. Yato lounged back against the tree, while Hiyori sat on her knees an acceptable distance away while she played with one of her pigtails. Yukiné came bounded around the side of the building, looking panicked. 

“Hiyori! Don’t go!” the boy wailed and flung himself across the yard. Hiyori exclaimed as he belly-flopped onto the ground next to her and planted his face write into her lap. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist as if he could keep her there through force alone. Hiyori chuckled and rested a hand on his back, and he looked up at her petulantly. 

“Yukiné, I’m not going anywhere,” Hiyori chuckled. “I’ll still be around!” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise!” Hiyori reassured. Yukiné smiled and sagged into her, thoroughly relieved. 

“Oi! Who do you think you are, hogging Hiyori?” Yato whined. Hiyori exclaimed as Yato draped himself over her shoulders, arms dangling down by her sides and chin propped in the crook of her neck. 

“Ah! Are we doing group hugs?” they heard Kofuku yell, and they looked up just in time to see her sailing through the air. They all screamed when Kofuku crashed into them, sending Yato and Hiyori onto their backs. As they dog-piled at the base of the tree, they couldn’t help but burst into giggles. Hiyori wiggled her arm until she could pull out the acceptance letter, and her expression brightened. 

I’ve got a great future ahead of me… And I’m glad everyone is going to be in it!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (21)

Season 1

Episode 21 - Kill Them All

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2160

Warnings: Violence, death, injury, hospitals, swearing

A/N: Well Lovelies this is the penultimate episode. There is only 1 more after this. I feel this part is a little rushed, but the season can't last forever. Enjoy Lovelies and see you on the last one!

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist. Series Masterlist. Oneshot Masterlist

BUCKY’S POV

All the plans had been made. They had touched down last night and had made it to one of Bucky’s smaller estates.

The plan was to storm the castle. Noah had provided detailed plans of the place and more of Darren’s and Bucky’s men touched down a few hours ago.

The only thing now was timing. Bucky was waiting on a call from Noah to tell them when the best time to strike was. The waiting was killing him.

Agonising hours passed until Bucky got a call from Noah, “tonight. Strike tonight. Harry is gone on business and he’s taken a bunch of men. This is the best you’ll get numbers wise”.

Bucky shakes his head, looking at Steve, “I want Harry there, I can’t let him get away-“.

Steve cuts him off, “if we have a good chance to get her now, take it Buck. We’ll get Harry another time”.

Bucky stares at his friend a little longer before talking to Noah again, “okay. We’ll be there tonight, as soon as its dark. I’ll keep you posted”.

After Bucky hung up that call, he was nonstop, making sure everyone knew what they were doing and where they had to be.

It was pitch black outside when Bucky and his men arrived at the imposing stone structure. It took Bucky no time at all to disable the men posted outside.

Then once everyone was in place at entrance points around the building, he gave the signal. Everyone breached the castle together, Bucky, Steve, and Sam taking the front door.

They enter to find men already taken out and Noah waiting by a set of double wooden doors and knights armour.

Some men came down the stairs, but Bucky left them to Steve and Sam as he strides over to Noah. His only mission was finding you.

Noah guides him over to a knight’s armour and the door behind it. Bucky barely hears Noah over the chaos in the background, “go, I’ll cover the entrance”.

Bucky pats him on the shoulder briefly before stepping over the threshold. The gunfire and shouting sounds muted between the stone walls.

Bucky moves quickly, but quietly, ears straining, and eyes peeled for even a glimpse of you. It had only been a week, but it was the longest of his life. He might as well have gone without breathing for that long.

Urgency danced along every nerve ending and heightened his senses. Something was compelling him to go deeper, further. He could feel you here, somewhere.

As Bucky kept creeping along, he could see what looked like a few cells down the end of the hall. His gut clenched not only at the thought of you being in there for a week but as if he just knew you were there.

Bucky jogs past all the doors in the corridor until he’s standing in front of the cells. They were dark but he could make out a lump on a cot in the first cell.

He strides up to the door and uses his metal arm to rip the lock that was in place, letting the door swing open. He makes his way over quickly but pulls up short at just how small and fragile you look, worse than when he first saw you from the streets.

He almost hesitates to touch you for fear of breaking you. He gently pulls the thin blanket from you and hears you murmur. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the knowledge you were still alive.

As he gets closer, he whispers, “Y/N, doll, it’s me, it’s Bucky”.

He hears you murmur again, “go away”.

Hurt blossoms in his chest at your words but they soon die when he hears you again, “I know it’s not you, you’re in my head. Please go away, it hurts too much to see that it’s not you”.

Bucky gently pulls on your shoulder until you twist. Anger spikes at seeing how hollow you look but he smiles at you softly as he watches you taking him in. He waits, noticing how you linger on his eyes before saying, “Bucky?”.

“Yeah, doll”.

A ghost of a smile graces your lips, but it changes just as Bucky feels a blow to the head. It doesn’t knock him out though as he rolls with the impact further into the cell. He sees stars as he hears you scream from your cot.

He shakes his head to clear his vision in time to see a blonde guy punch you in the face, knocking you out cold. Red is all he sees, fury and rage propelling him to tackle the guy to the ground.

They hit the stone ground hard, rolling with fists flying. Bucky barely even registers the blows as he finally stops the momentum. He grabs the guy by the shirt with his flesh hand and uses his metal hand to keep punching.

Bucky keeps going until he hears bone crunching, until all he can see is the dark red covering his face, until the man stops moving.

Bucky pushes the guy away as he gets up to go to you. He notices how impossibly still you are and the trickle of blood coming from your nose. Bucky lays two fingers on your throat softly. He can feel a pulse but its faint.

He wastes no more time, scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his body as he practically runs down the hall, urgency nipping at his heels.

As Bucky gets closer to the double doors back to the main foyer, he doesn’t hear anymore gunfire. The battle obviously won.

Noah is still standing by the door, his eyes looking like saucers when they fall onto you.

Steve and Sam hide their emotions better, as Steve says, “some surrendered, what do you want us to-“.

“Kill them”, Bucky doesn’t even stop his stride to the door.

“Buck-“, Sam this time.

Bucky turns to look at the men standing around him. His men. He looks at all of them before saying, “Kill. Them. All. I will not give that order again, are we clear?”.

Bucky doesn’t wait to hear their answers. The sound of gunshots was answer enough.

*2 Days Later*

Bucky had just hung up the phone when Steve walks into the hospital room, “who was that?”.

Bucky scrapes a hand down his face as he sits in the chair next to you again, “it was the doc back home, said he would have a look over Y/N’s medical notes and see if it was safe enough for her to fly back. I want her home when she wakes up”.

Bucky sighs before looking over at Steve, “any sign?”.

Steve shakes his head, “nothing, both of them are in the wind”.

Bucky resists the urge to break things in the hospital. He watches your face, peaceful in the afternoon light to calm down instead. All he could feel was one failure after another for you. The car crashing, letting you get taken, not finding you for a week, and now letting Harry and Isaac disappear.

“It’s not your fault Buck”, Steve says, somehow always reading the thoughts in his head.

Bucky replies, still looking at you, “tell that to her when she wakes up”.

“I won’t have to because she will tell you the exact same thing”, Steve says firmly.

“What am I meant to say to her Steve? That I let that fucker get away? Me? The man that swore to protect her?”, Bucky scoffs.

Steve shuffles until he can look Bucky in the eyes, “you haven’t failed her Bucky. You’re human-“

“Well, I can’t afford to be!”, Bucky roars.

Bucky clenches his fist, biting his tongue until he continues between clenched teeth, “I have too many people counting on me. We may have won the battle this time Steve, but it’s far from over. This is a war and I fully intend to win at any cost. This is a war and I want them all dead. Every last single one of them”.

The silence stretched. Steve didn’t disagree, especially since they went after Peggy and the kids. Bucky sighs again, as if he was being crushed under the weight of everything he insisted he would carry himself, “go home Steve”.

“I’ll head back to the hotel-“.

“No. Home. Go home Steve. Go and see your wife and your kids. Take some time, because it won’t get any easier from here. Not only will we have Harry and Isaac to deal with, but we took a hit. People will be talking, and we need to get a hold of that shit. I don’t want anyone thinking they can take us. I’m still the White fucking Wolf and I need everyone to remember why. So, go home Steve. I’ll be back soon with Y/N”.

Bucky registers Steve’s shoes against the floor, and the click of the door opening. It was a few minutes of silence before Steve murmurs, “you are the White Wolf…but you’re also Bucky Barnes, my best friend, Sam’s best friend. You’re godfather to my children and practically a brother to Peggy. And Y/N? She might as well already be your wife. What I’m saying Punk is, don’t lose sight of who you really are in the midst of this war”.

He lets the words sink in before Bucky hears the click of the door closing. Bucky goes back to studying your face. His eyes tracing the bruises changing colour over your sharp angles. The rise and fall of your chest.

He lets a tear fall as he lays his head lightly on your stomach, hugging you like a lost child would their teddy. This was the first time he ever felt, he ever wished that he was anyone other than a mob boss.

YOUR POV

You come back slowly. To the sound of beeping and the feel of a soft, slightly ridged bed beneath you.

You keep your eyes closed, trying to get a sense with your body if someone is in the room.

When it feels safe enough you open your eyes slowly, not having a choice against the lights in the room. Your eyes water and you let the tears travel down your cheeks as you try not to move.

A quick scan of the room shows there is no one around and the longer you look around the faster memory comes back. You don’t want to believe your eyes. You don’t want to believe that you’re in the med wing of your home, with the thought of Bucky somewhere within. You didn’t want to believe it for fear that you will wake up back in the cell or in that room with Isaac.

But the longer you lay there, staring at every piece of the room, focusing on your breathing the more you realised this isn’t a dream or a hallucination.

You sit up, muscles protesting the movement. It takes you longer to swing your legs out of bed and even longer to stand on your feet.

The first time you try, you crumple like a fawn on new legs, the bed the only thing stopping you from hitting the floor.

Your chest heaving, you try again, standing in one place a little longer before feeling your legs buckle again. You repeat the process a few times, until your shaky legs are strong enough to carry you.

That is when you decide to take everything out. The machines start beeping and you know your time is limited now, people will crowd the room within minutes, but you have to find Bucky first. You have to know this is real.

You hold onto the bed for as long as possible as you let your legs remember how to walk on their own. When you run out of bed you grab a hold of the door, letting it swing out as you follow the wall with your hands.

The halls are empty, and you couldn’t be more grateful as you start to take easier steps closer and closer to Bucky’s office.

As the office comes within sight you hear the door open and he steps out, looking one way and then the other, his eyes landing on you. He was holding a phone to his ear but the moment he sees you he hangs up.

You take him in, both in disbelief at either ends of the hall staring. Your lips part, “Bucky?”.

He strides towards you at the sound of his name, purpose filling every step. He doesn’t hesitate as he reaches you. His hands gentle against your skin as he sweeps you up bridal style. The smell of him fills your nose as you bring your hands up to cup his face.

You stare at him for the longest time, focusing on his eyes and you finally accept that its him as your eyes well up, “Bucky”.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @valsworldofcreativity @lokilokilokilokilokilokilo-blog1 @vesper852 @littlenerdgirl16 @wiccanmetallicrose @aya-fay

[stevesharrlngtons]

this one might be too much but 😩 mutual pining between reader & Roman and it’s a formal event and someone is pissing him off and then reader comes in all dressed up and cute like “you said you would be nice ro 🙄” because theyre the date! and then he goes soft idk JKDFNF and people are like 😳 because they’re so cute together 😔

hi! i love this idea, and i hope you don’t mind if i tweak it a lil (-: enjoy!

so here’s the thing

roman is always looking for an angle

he loves a grift and a scheme and a plan

he’s always looking for a way to work smarter, not harder

and luckily, he has you to go along with them

since junior high, you had been roman’s accomplice, sometimes willingly and sometimes reluctantly

he had this annoying knack for knowing each and every one of your buttons and just how to push them to get his way and rope you into a plan of his

and of course, just fucking of course, that’s what he did this time

because you were incredibly skeptical about being set up on a date with some slimy businessman roman was trying to shmooze

in hopes of you becoming the man’s earworm for the night and getting him to invest millions in a new vaccine that the white tower was developing

“you know actual models, roman. i don’t know why you are asking me for this”

“because you are the only person i trust with this, and anything for that matter”  

you were sat on his couch in his living room while roman stood above you, giving you his best pout which he knew you couldn’t resist

“you could ask letha”

“i don’t want letha, i want you” in more ways that one, he thought

“you could ask destiny, maybe she could cast a spell or read his palm to help you out,” you crossed your arms

you really didn’t want to do this, even for roman

was it because you didn’t want to go on a date with a notorious creep? yes, of course

was it also because you didn’t want to date anyone but the man who stood in front of you, who also happened to have friendzoned you at the age of fifteen? yeah, that too

but it was mostly the gross old man thing

“i don’t want models, i don’t want letha, i don’t want destiny or any little trick she can pull. i want you there, with your cunning little mind and pretty little face,” roman dropped to his knees and jutted out his bottom lip in mock sadness, “don’t make me beg, baby”

and fuck, there was that little nickname that made your stomach flip and your heart race and you can barely keep the blush from your cheeks as you reluctantly agree

and so, the plan was set

next week you were to meet with mr. daniel reynolds, a sixty something medical investor who knew more hookers than manners and wouldn’t take his hand off your ass since the moment he saw you

in which his first words were “damn! godfrey is really pulling out all the stops for me, huh?” as he gazed at you with a smarmy expression

while your skin crawled at the gesture and you had to fake giggle to cover the retch your stomach gave, you did know he was right

you looked fucking hot and it was all on roman’s dime

a contingency for you agreeing to this night was getting to take his credit card for the afternoon to buy whatever you needed for the date, price be damned

daniel picked you up in a brand new aston martin, his hand high on your thigh as he blathered on about... something, you didn’t know or care

and neither did he, truly

you were there for his to grope and stare at, he didn’t care about what you had to say

when you got to the event, all eyes were on you

you swore that people stopped their conversations to stare at you and daniel, but you didn’t know if that was just anxiety or if was true until he whispered in your ear gross

“no one can take their eyes off you, gorgeous. feels good to know you’re all mine”

and before you could reply with your now perfected canned girlish giggle, roman approached quickly

“daniel, i see you could make it.”

and immediately, just from hearing his voice, you knew this whole plan was a bust

because roman was pissed, and he was barley containing his anger

upon turning to see his face, your suspicion was proven

roman was standing to his full height, hackles raised, predatory eyes set on daniel in a straining stare, his lips pressed in a thin line as his jaw was clenched

“roman, great to see you,” daniel slaps roman on the should to which roman didn’t budge, “you already have a leg up on this investment after you sent me this peace offering,”

he patted your ass in recognition as he appreciated your body with his eyes once more

“i don’t know where you found her, but tell ‘em i don’t know if i wanna give her back!”

you just looked straight ahead at roman with a fixed smile and a look in your eyes that said i swear to god, you owe me big

“yeah, well,” roman’s voice is wound tight as he closes his eyes and takes a swift step closer to daniel, “the thing is, i’ve decided to rescind my offer. both business and personal. you don’t get to invest and you don’t get to keep her.”

“what?” daniel said, at the same time that exact thought crossed your mind

“yep,” roman popped the word from his mouth, spit coming to splatter on reynolds skin, “i don’t need your money, i don’t need you. no one does, except maybe a nursing home or an erectile dysfunction seminar”

“you little prick! who the fuck do you think you are?”

“i’m roman fucking godfrey,” roman seethes through his teeth, “who the fuck are you?”

you stood in shock as you watched daniel do the same, before roman spoke again

“that’s what i thought. now, go stand with your nose to the wall and don’t fucking bother me again,”

and sure enough, daniel’s hand went limp and fell from your butt to his side and he turned robotically on his heel and walked at a simple pace to the nearest wall to place his nose against

roman watched with an intense anger the entire time to make sure he did what he was told

“hey -- what the fuck was that?” you whispered harshly under your breath

“i changed my mind,” he growled

“since when? you practically begged for me to do this plan with you just to ruin it the second he walked in?”

roman snapped his head to look at you with that same intense gaze as before

his body followed slowly, rotating beneath him like an owl

“i am allowed to change my mind whenever the fuck i want. and i decided i had changed my mind when i saw his filthy fucking arthritis fingers on you”

“that was the plan --”

“fuck the plan! fuck. it.”

you met his stare, doing your best to match his anger, but you couldn’t

because all you could think about was how roman had seen a man touching you and hated it

because all you could think about was how fucking sexy he looked when he was mad, when he was yelling at someone and coming out on top

all you could think about was how much you wanted to beg him to touch you and kiss you and wash away daniel’s touch with his own

and roman, for his own part was thinking similar thoughts

because he really thought that this plan could work, that he could use his jealousy to his advantage, that he could harness it and use it to be a better businessman

that he could use another man as your date as a motivator to do his best to impress you and to do anything in his power to seal the deal because nothing was more motivating to roman than getting a business deal out of the way so he could have you all to himself again

but the second you walked in, looking like that, in that fucking dress, but with that fucking man? touching you? everything left roman’s mind

all he could think about was how much he wanted you, how much he needed you, how much he was the only person allowed to touch you

and how much he wanted to maim daniel reynolds, investment be damned

“i would have loved a little heads up on this. would have been nice to know you were gonna bail on the plan so i could have just blown you off,” you bit

“well, here’s your heads up for now on,” roman stepped closer, his lips only a breath away, “no more plans where any other human being touches you. no more plans where someone touches you like that, that isn’t me. no more plans where anyone thinks that you are theirs and not mine. get it?”

his voice palpated for much passion and authority your head began to spin

and your eyes widened, and your heart raced and your palms started to sweat

for a moment you swore you might faint

for another, you swore you are just going to kiss him something roman would have no objected

but all you did do was say:

“ok.”

and roman gave you a swift nod

“good. now let’s dance, i don’t want to talk business anymore. everyone here is fucking stupid and old.”

so, with his hand around your waist, roman led you to the expansive dance floor

for the rest of the night, roman’s hands help erase the memories of their predecessor. big and warm and possessive all over your body

and anytime someone looks at you for more than a passing glance, roman pulls you in tighter

he kisses your forehead and rubs his cheeks and nose to the sides of your face, like a cat marking its territory  

showing everyone there what they all should fucking know

you. were. roman’s.

[ijustwant2write]

Confidence-Bucky Barnes x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @sunoficarus​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello there angel! I've been reading your cute imagines lately and they really warmed my heart and got me out of depression cloud! so i tried to be brave and request something bcs i'm usually shy ><~ can i request a Bucky Barnes x Reader oneshot, the reader is kinda a chubby avenger and she has feelings for him but she gets sad bcs she thinks he'll never fall for someone like her bcs sh's not like the other pretty female avengers annnddd.. yeah! XD~♡’

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name     

Replication=Being able to make a copy of yourself, biological cloning, or the splitting of the body into multiples

Warnings: Insecurity, negative talk about weight/image, sad/crying reader, fluff

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Opening the fridge, I took out a water bottle, instantly opening it before taking a big swig. We had come back from a mission early afternoon, the team had been away for just over a week, so it was good to be back. Even though I had showered, eaten and unpacked, I still had an immense thirst in me.

"Hey, I'm making toast, you want some?" Natasha asked as she walked in.

"No, I've eaten thank you." I replied, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

As she began making her food, she continued talking."You OK after the last week?"

"Yeah, just tired. The longest mission I've done is four days, it's amazing what a few more days can do to you."

"You were great out there, a real natural. Your powers are much more controlled than they used to be."

"Thanks, it's all down to the training I guess."

"And your confidence."

"Really?"

Nat placed three pieces of bread into the toaster, turning around to face me once the lever was pushed down."Yes! It wasn't like you were extremely shy when you first came, but there's a difference in you."

If only I was this confident around someone else.

“You gonna head up early tonight?” Nat asked.

“Definitely. The last time I used my powers like that was when you guys first brought me in. And that was when I didn’t have as much control over them. I think it’s a good idea, we all need the rest.”

“So am I. Actually, Dr Cho wanted to see you. She said something really medical and science-y to explain why but I made no sense to me. Something about your cells splitting...or recreating?"

"Oh, she did mention that before we left. Think she's trying to help me connect more with my replicas, so that I can confuse whoever we're attacking even more. Thanks for telling me."

She nodded, turning around once the toast popped up. I said goodbye, scrolling on my phone as I made my way to Dr Cho's lab. My power to basically clone multiple versions of myself seemed useless at first, until I figured out how to control them and thought about tactics they were useful in. It was very strategic, everything had to be carefully planned. But now that I was getting used to it, everything seemed like second nature. And I had the team to thank for that. 

"Hey (Y/N), thanks for coming by." Helen greeted as I walked into her lab, holding her tablet as she usually did. 

"Hi. So, am I being wired up to a machine today?" 

She smiled."No, nothing like that. Tony and I have been working together on something that will ensure you can keep track of all your replicas."

Helen turned her back to me, grabbing a tray with what looked like four silver bracelets. She gestured for me to stand by her as she placed the tray on the table in front of us. 

"These are your new accessories." she started, picking up a pair."You'll wear them when on missions, and these will be able to connect you to any replicas you create. It's just to help you keep a better track. And any time they are hurt in anyway, the energy from the hit will drive into your bracelet." 

"Like T'Challa's armour?" 

Helen nodded."But instead of propelling back that energy, it'll just mean your replica can hold the energy and use it as a shield. Say someone was stood behind it and the enemy attacked the replica, the real person behind them would be safe." 

"That's amazing!" 

She held out her hand, wanting me to give her my wrist. I complied, letting her put the bracelets on me. They glowed blue before returning to the silver colour, feeling weightless on me. 

"They're able to become translucent depending on what uniform you're wearing. That way they won't be able to differentiate you from your replicas."

"Wow, thank you." 

"Don't thank me just yet. We still need to trial them. I definitely need Tony for this, just to make sure he's happy with them." 

"I think he's gone to rest right now." 

With a cheeky grin, she said,"Don't worry, he won't mind, this is important." 

Helen left me by myself, and I felt slightly awkward around all of the expensive and confusing technology that surrounded me. A thought flashed in my mind to try out the bracelets, but I decided against it, not wanting to risk anything going wrong. Slipping them off and placing them back on the table, I caught myself in the reflection of the windows. My hands subconsciously moved to my stomach, brushing against it before grabbing the skin; they traced upwards to my forearms, repeating my actions despite my brain screaming that I shouldn't. It grossed me out every time, why would I want to touch those parts of me? 

Turning to look at myself side on, I sighed at how stomach looked, almost wincing as my gaze travelled down to my thighs. All that training, the healthy meals I ate, where were the results? Why didn't I look like Natasha or Wanda? I battled with my conscious everyday over this. The tiniest part of it begged me to not look at myself that way, not to throw my hard work away or belittle myself over such a thing; but that was an extremely rare thing to happen, and that voice was hard to hear. The voice that spoke much too often had something completely different to say. It would force me to look at myself whenever I passed anything reflective, to make sure I looked decent, although I never did. It wanted to point out my flaws, it wanted to make me aware and punish me for looking like this,despite all the hard work I put into training. And training had never been about losing weight, it was purely strengthening, learning how to fight/defend myself as well as keep up with my stamina. 

Taking a deep breath in, I faced myself properly, squeezing my hands in and out of fists as I replicated myself, scanning my eyes over every single version of me. There were seven of me altogether, three replicas on either side of me, and I wondered why I even thought about doing this to myself. I made each replica turn more than the other, meaning I was looking at myself at every angle, and I hated all of them. It wasn't fair. Why was my power to make copies of myself when I didn't even like the one, true version of me? 

"(Y/N)?" someone startled me, my replicas instantly disappearing. 

Whipping around as my concentration broke, my face broke out into a blush as I saw Bucky standing in the doorway. It just had to be him, why couldn't it have been anyone else? 

"Y-yes?" I stuttered, immediately breaking eye contact. 

"Sorry, I needed to speak to Dr Cho." 

"Sh-she, uh, she just left, a-actually." 

"OK, I'll come by later." I glanced up, seeing him move to leave before turning back to me."You sure you're alright?" 

I nodded."Mhm."

He slowly nodded, but mostly to himself."Good job this week by the way, you were great." 

I hated how hot I was feeling after the compliment, even when he was gone I felt embarrassed by myself. Did he see me looking at myself like that? He must have thought I was an absolute weirdo for doing such a thing! 

Helen reappeared, a yawning Tony following in behind her."Right, this shouldn't take too long-" 

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this right now." I blurted out."I’m really tired and I want to make sure that the results are accurate." 

They were taken back by my snappy tone, slowly nodding as I refrained from bolting out of the room. Brushing past them, my hands instantly wrapped around my torso, making a beeline towards the elevator. My breaths were sort and sharp as I hit the button, fingers poking into my sides as I crossed them again. Why wasn’t I toned? Why was I able to grab so much skin? Once I was out of the elevator, I picked up the pace towards my room, resisting slamming the door to not gain any more attention. Grabbing the throw at the end of my bed, I threw it over the mirror, making sure I could not see any part of myself before I collapsed onto my bed, covering myself with the bed sheets.

Silent sobs ran through me as I gripped onto the sheets that were bunched up around me. I hated my mind, I hated how I looked, I hated how I could never be at peace with how I looked. Sleep would come to me late tonight, but only once I exhausted myself from crying. And I hoped that I would not dream tonight. 

Waking up, I felt how dry my moth and lips were, and also where the tears had stained my cheeks, as well as my pillow. My neck was aching from the position I had fallen asleep in, it felt worse as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Rubbing my eyes, I coughed to clear my throat, definitely needing water after I felt how hoarse it was. Although it would have been so much easier to stay holed up in my room all day, avoid questions from everyone (even making small talk could reveal how I was really feeling), staying here would cause more fuss than needed.

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)." Vision greeted as I walked the halls.

"Morning." I mustered up the best smile.

"I hope I am not coming across as rude or interfering, but are you alright?"

I nodded, hiding my panic."Yeah, just a little tired from the mission. And I think overwhelmed, it's been my longest one yet."

"That is understandable. Though I am sure the experience will serve you well in future missions, especially with your stamina."

"Yep, hopefully."

Vision hadn't done anything wrong, he was being a good friend. But my mind wondered whether anything had been said about me. Did I look bad? Did I look exhausted? Why did he mention stamina? He could have just left that part out. I engaged with more small talk as we made our way down to the kitchen (Vision liked to be part of an everyday routine), though part of me wished that I was alone again.

"Ah, morning Mr Barnes." Vision said as we walked in, and I instantly cringed.

"Morning." Bucky mumbled, sending a small smile our way, but I quickly looked elsewhere. He was finishing a bowl of cereal as he sat at the kitchen island.

"Miss (Y/L/N), could I tempt you with a fully cooked breakfast? Something that is full of nutrition but still quite enjoyable? I believe it would help with your recovery." Vision offered.

"Oh, that's very kind Vis." I quietly said."But I'll just stick to coffee for now."

"You sure? I wouldn't pass up that opportunity." Bucky added.

I could only muster,"Mhm." before focusing on the coffee machine in front of me.

"Well, the offer stands if you wish for it." Vision said, and I could tell I had upset him.

He said his goodbyes to us as he left, leaving me alone with Bucky. Keeping my back to him, I played with the end of my sleeves, coming up with normal answers that I could say if Bucky started asking questions. I knew that even with backup answers, I wouldn't be able to speak properly to him, my mind would go blank.

"You should have something to eat really. At least an apple or something." Bucky said.

"I'll have one once I've woken up more. Don't feel like eating just yet, think I'm overtired."

"Just make sure you're looking after yourself."

I poured out the coffee into a mug, prepared to leave when I caught Bucky looking at me. My demeanour became smaller, shy, more withdrawn.

"What were you doing the other day? In the lab?"

"I...was testing out a new gadget Tony and Dr Cho created for me."

"(Y/N), I don't want to make assumptions-"

"Then believe what I say. Why would I be lying?"

He looked shocked."I didn't say anything like that."

My eyes cast down, panic setting into my mind, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Forgetting about my coffee, I gave myself no other choice than to run away from any confrontation. I thought that would be the end of it, it usually was, but I heard footsteps behind me, heavy ones, belonging to Bucky. At first, I kept going, hoping he was just going to call out to me before giving up, but again, I was wrong. 

“(Y/N), please!” Bucky pleaded.

Not knowing where to go made me falter, it was only for a split second, that was enough time for Bucky to open a door and drag me inside. Breaking away from him, I sighed when I realised we were in an old conference room; it was empty now, no furniture or screens, it was currently being upgraded and renovated. However, that also meant no one would have any intention of walking in, meaning we were very likely to not be interrupted. 

“Bucky, I don’t want to talk about this.” I rushed out.

“So there is something wrong!” he exclaimed, but kept his tone calm.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re my friend, my teammate (Y/N), I care about you.”

“Fine! You want to know what’s wrong? I’m surrounded by images of strong, fit people, who I work just as hard as, yet I never look like them! I train and train and train, but for some cruel reason, my body never changes. Sure, I’ve slimmed down slightly since I arrived here, but it’s not enough for me. I’ve been called a superhero, I fight alongside all of you with your slim physiques, huge muscles and beautiful faces; so when I see a picture, or news footage of us fighting, I look like the odd one out, the huge odd one out. I don’t look right standing beside any of you, even an agent from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed as he continued staring at me. I scoffed, facing away from him.

“Now you’re seeing it. Or at least your thoughts about me are confirmed. I understand. I know you guys are my friends, you don’t care what I look like. But you must look at me in the line up and think I look out of place.”

“(Y/N), I could never look at you, or think of you in that way.”

“You don’t have to pity me-”

“I’m not. (Y/N), you don’t realise how beautiful you are.”

I glanced over my shoulder, shocked by his sentence.“Don’t do this to make me feel better, because it doesn’t work.”

He took a step closer to me.“How long have you been holding this in for?”

“I’m a woman who’s been bigger than everyone else around me my entire life, and I also have powers which made me a freak before people realised I could save them. So, basically my whole life.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why would anyone in my position want to speak up about this? You didn’t say anything when your nightmares came back.”

I saw that throw him off.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to...to mention it, or-”

“No, you’re right. I know what it feels like to keep something to yourself. You don’t want to burden anyone around you, especially the ones you love. You think it’s not that important, that you can handle it by yourself, or you can ignore it until it goes away. But that’s not the right way to handle things. I can see that, looking back on everything.”

“But your nightmares were worth talking about. They scarred you, reminded you of that awful past. I’m a stupid girl crying over weight that can easily be shifted if I just work harder.”

“You would work yourself to death if you did that. (Y/N), I see you everyday training hard, making sure your powers are being improved everyday, going over tactics you can use by yourself or with the team. Everyday you ensure you are at your best because you want to help people out there that can’t defend themselves. If people judge you on how you look instead of your actions, they’re not even worth thinking about.”

Letting my arms drop to my sides, I faced Bucky, gathering enough courage to look him in the eyes.“Thanks Bucky.”

“(Y/N) I mean it. I’m not saying this to just be nice. You matter to me.”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t. I...I really like you (Y/N). And I know you may not see me in the same way, but you’re such a caring, powerful and hard working person. We come back from a mission, and you could be carried out on a stretcher but you still keep positive and make sure everyone else is safe before yourself. I’m telling you this because...well it just feels right. I’m also not making this up because you need validation from a man to make you feel better about yourself. You should be able to look at yourself in the mirror and love what you see, no matter what you look like.”

My chin was trembling as my lips pursed, trying to hold back my tears. Shaky breath escaped my nostrils, and as Bucky kept looking at me with those nurturing, safe eyes, I broke. No one had ever said something like that to me. I could tell he meant it. He wouldn’t be putting all this effort into this if he just wanted to be a good friend.

“Do...do you really mean it?” my voice wobbled.

He smiled.“Yes.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around me tenderly, pulling me into his chest. Surprisingly, my instincts made me quickly copy, gripping onto his t-shirt as I started sobbing. My mind was confused. One minute I was absolutely hating myself, then I had covered up my sadness, panicking because someone was about to see me break, and here I was, letting it all out in front of him. But I didn’t feel embarrassed like I thought I would. It felt amazing to feel that dragging weight on my shoulders suddenly lift away, the comfort of someone else was welcoming. 

“Th-thank you Bucky.” I sniffed.“I’ve always thought that I need to keep this sort of thing to myself. I’ve been terrified to even be sad, even though I know it’s OK to be sad, but for some reason, my mind would never let me. It’s been building up inside of me, I’ve never been able to express myself properly.”

“We’re here for you, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here to listen...and you tell you how beautiful you are every time I see you.”

I giggled as I pulled away, wiping my cheeks.“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I want to.”

“Thank you Bucky, I really appreciate your help.”

He kissed my forehead.“I’ll always be here.”

[mishasminion360]

Crushed (Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Okay, I just couldn’t resist writing one more chapter from Javi’s POV. Purely because I’m a sucker for pain and love writing sad shit. I hope you’ve enjoyed my little ficlets! If you haven’t already, be sure to check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 before reading this one.

He was there when the call came in; one of the first to learn that 220 pounds of TNT inside a car had just turned the downtown Bogotá shopping district into a pile of ash.

He didn’t even wait for the higher ups to finish barking orders before he was running out the door, ahead of the troops. He didn’t need to wait for orders and he didn’t need directions. He knew that district by heart by now. Because he’d been to your apartment enough times to memorize the way there.

***

The mess wasn’t anything like Javi had imagined; had hoped for. It was much worse.

Bodies, and pieces of bodies, had been tossed about haphazardly in the wake of the blast; strewn about as chaotically as the rubble. He realized with a growing sense of dread that one of these corpses could be your own.

Working his way through the destruction, smoke filling his lungs, he dared to glance up at your apartment and his heart dropped to see that it was...gone. There’s nothing but a hole where walls and windows used to be. That home he’d come to know better than his own had been reduced to a fucking crater.

His pulse hammered in his ears and muted the world around him. The screams, the sirens, all far away now. Somewhere in the distance right beside him he could hear Steve yelling at him, trying to pull him back from the ledge before he fell headlong into a chasm of despair.

“She’s fine, Javi. She’s got to be. She might not have even been home. Whatever you’re thinking right now, just stop.”

Javier didn’t even turn to look at him as he responded. “You don’t know what I’m thinking. You couldn’t possibly know.”

He was already off and running before he’d finished the last sentence. Javi didn’t care that part of the building was still in flames, he didn’t care that it could collapse at any moment. All he cared about was you.

Javi took the steps, what was left of them anyway, two at a time on a perilous journey to your floor. There wasn’t much of that left either. Opening the door was another trial, and once he’d finally managed to jimmy his way inside he could see why. And it made his stomach roil.

The blast had blown everything, debris, furniture, to the front half of the apartment and the pile of wreckage had barricaded the door. Javi didn’t waste a single second climbing the mound of detritus, like the Dread Pirate Roberts scaling the Cliffs of Insanity.

He felt his lungs tighten from exertion and the excess inhalation of ash and dust, but he still found enough strength to scream your name as loud as he possibly could. He got only silence in return.

Javi started flipping over smoldering furniture and chunks of scorched rubble, praying softly to himself that he’d find you and that he wouldn’t. He dug and dug until he was soaked in sweat and his fingers were black with soot and red with blood.

He spotted your hand first, sticking out from beneath the splintered remains of your dining room table. The small, delicate extremity was abnormally pale, and not because of the layer of dust that coated it. He frantically removed the rest of the mess until he’d uncovered you, his buried treasure.

One of your arms and legs had each bent at an unnatural angle. Your skin was littered with cuts of different sizes and stained with bruises. Your hair was matted with blood. But it was your eyes that frightened Javi the most. They were wide open, but unseeing.

Javier knew better than to move you until paramedics arrived, but that didn’t stop him from trying to rouse you into the realm of wakefulness.

“Come on, baby, wake up,” he said, voice cracking as he framed your bloodied face in his hands and tried to force those empty eyes to look at him. “Don’t do this to me, baby. Please.”

He refused to leave your side for an instant, not even to spare a second to cross over to the gaping hole where your wall once was and shout down for help. So he just screamed again.

“Ayúdame!!” he roars. “I need help! Someone, please!!” He didn’t know if anyone was coming. He didn’t know if it’d make a difference. “AHORA!!!”

His throat was too raw to try again. Javi collapsed at your side clutching your hand in both of his, as if he could heal all your wounds himself the tighter he squeezed. If only life, or love worked liked that.

“Please....”

***

He’d always hated hospitals. There was something so unnatural about the sterility, and the fact that it served as a haven for healing felt like nothing more than an illusion. Javier knew what it really was. A place where people came to die. A place where you were currently bedded.

At first the nurses refused to let him in, not being a direct family member and all, but they quickly learned in frightening ways that nothing was going to keep Javier Peña from your side. If Steve hadn’t been there to watch his back, Javi was fairly certain he would have been arrested for assaulting a doctor. More than once.

Steve was the sensible, level headed one. He asked the docs all the questions, got all the answers. All Javi could do was stare at you. You looked almost alien to him wrapped in plaster and sprouting too many tubes and wires, but it was still you and he couldn’t look away. His deep brown eyes willed you to wake up.

From time to time he caught words from the doctor’s mouth, words like “skull fracture,” “extensive hemorrhaging,” and “cerebral and internal bleeding.”

“Can you fix it?” he thought he heard Steve ask.

“The damage she’s suffered is severe,” said a doctor who’s name Javier did not know and did not give a fuck to know. “We’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but until the swelling on her brain goes down she’ll more than likely remain comatose.”

The only thing Javier hated more than hearing the doctor spout his medical jargon was hearing his lame attempts to be comforting.

“These attacks are getting worse and worse in terms of casualties. It’s always a shame to see someone so young this badly broken,” said doc what’s-his-name. “Poor woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Will she be okay?” The words left his mouth so softly that Javier wasn’t even sure he’d said them.

“As I said, the surgery was a complete success,” the doctor responded. “The rest is up to her.”

The doc had other patients, so he didn’t stick around. Steve offered to stay, but Javi told him to beat it. All Javi wanted was to be alone. Alone with his grief. Alone with his shame. Alone with his love.

His fingers stroked tender circles up and down your arm; he wondered if you could feel it.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

***

Days turned to a week, and that week became two. Javi had taken up a steadfast vigil at your bedside. He’d become a permanent fixture in the room and no one could convince him to leave or, at the very least, sleep. He’d sleep when you woke.

The nurses tried to offer positive affirmations here and there and their saccharine sweetness almost made him sick.

“It won’t be long now, I’m sure of it,” one offered. “Just a matter of time until we see those pretty eyes of hers.”

“Her vitals are stabilizing. That’s a good sign,” said another.

They all reminded him to keep talking to you; that, even though you couldn’t respond, you could hear his every word. It wasn’t long ago that he would have killed to get you to stand still and listen to him. Now he finally had you all to himself, but it wasn’t in the way that he wanted. This was an awful way.

“Come back, corazón,” he pleaded silently. “Please.”

***

Soon the doctor was able to deliver a spot of good news: the swelling in your brain was gone and you were likely to regain consciousness soon. Javi tried to take the news for what it was, but knew he wouldn’t be able to officially breath a sigh of relief until you truly were awake and responsive.

“She’s going to have a long road ahead of her, though.” Ah, the good ol’ doc. Never one to sugarcoat shit. “Recovery will be difficult.”

“I’ll be there,” Javi said flatly. “Every step of the way.”

***

It was going on three weeks and you were still fast asleep. According to the doctor you were pretty much healed, internally anyway, but you just refused to come around. Stubborn as always.

Javi couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept himself. The last time he’d moved. He’d missed a shit ton of work, but he didn’t give a fuck. The world had stopped turning and it wouldn’t budge again until you returned to him.

Javier Peña was not a patient man. He’d never waited this long for anything in his life. But for you, he’d wait a lifetime. It felt like he already had. He’d spent so much of his life searching for something that he’d never been able to find. He wasn’t even sure what it was. Until he met you.

The second you walked into the office something shifted. You were like a breath of fresh air; an answer to all of his most burning questions. You awoke in him a feeling he’d long ago forgotten. He didn’t know yet if it was love or just desire, but he knew well enough that you were going to change everything.

But now, in that very moment, gazing longingly at your silent, slumbering form, he recalled the name of that feeling. In that moment he realized that you had made him whole. And it was at that moment he finally broke.

The tears came out of nowhere. His exhausted body was consumed by great, heaving sobs. Javi felt his throat constrict around a string of words that came unraveling from the very depths of his aching heart.

“Wake up, baby,” he begged. “Come back to me.”

He wept openly and loudly and didn’t give a fuck who heard or saw.

“Please, come back to me, please.”

He collapsed atop your supine body and cried the tears of a man shattered beyond repair.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

He repeated those words until, at long last, sleep overtook him.

***

“J-Javier...”

He was floating in a sea of darkness, blissfully lost in it when he heard the call. That very sound was enough to cause the inky blackness to evaporate and the world was suffused with light; a sunrise over the retreating black waves. And something inside Javier began to steer him toward wakefulness. Because he knew that sound. He’d heard it countless times in the waking world, and in his dreams. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. The voice of the woman he loved.

“Javi?”

The pull of the ocean receded, and he turned his face toward the sun.

@mamacitapascal @obsessivelysearching @grimeylady

[shadoedseptmbr]

A nonny sent me a prompt: Kiss on the back of the neck for Aedan and Kaidan. Thank you, nonny for the rabbit hole! *bangs my head against a desk*

Shore leave between 1 and 2.  

They had all of three days, alone on this scrap of beach where no one knew them and they could blend into the faceless mass of tourists on the Sun Coast. 

Aedan had been (rightfully) amazed he was able to find a cabin on such short notice.  Kaidan should...he should probably tell her but it wasn’t...just didn’t seem like the right time.  She’d been skittish enough about English Bay and the orchard and those weren’t even his.

Telling her about another piece of property, even if he’d just picked this up in a poker game?  Seemed like it might be pushing it.

Maybe they could make a tradition out of it once he confessed.  A few days in the sun between missions? But they’d agreed not to talk about future plans until they were on their way back.

These three days were for them. The future would still be there when they got back. Probably.

They hadn’t left the cabana at all the first day. This morning, though...she’d pushed aside the cup of chocolate and coffee she’d been watching him over as he scrambled eggs and started to pace in front of the window.  He’d looked up from setting the pan off the heat and asked if she liked pancakes when she’d hit the door at warp speed and called back over her shoulder to lure him out to the surf.

Leaving the toast he’d had all of three bites of, the coffees they’d just made to cool on the counter.

After an hour of pounding waves she’d finally relented and let them stagger back to the beach and collapse on the blanket.  He’d considered reminding her about breakfast but he managed to stir enough to rub some sunblock into her shoulders when she’d offered him the tube and wiggled them invitingly.  

Aedan hadn’t trimmed the short hair at the back of her neck recently and the salt water had dried, twisting it into curls against her pale skin.  Smoothing the last of the cream in, Kaidan leaned over and kissed the space between two little copper c’s, tasting coconut and salt.

The tiny gasp -the way she stiffened- wasn’t the reaction he expected.   

Frowning, he turned her to face him, “Hey.”

Aedan looked up at him through her lashes, red gold without their usual coat of dark mascara.  

“Hey,” she answered back.  Her eyes were wide, soft and vulnerable before she dropped them, closed herself off from him.  Her fingers came up to brush his; fine sand drifting off them.

That sudden flare of emotion in those big eyes sent an old familiar feeling twisting in his gut and his fingers tensed on her shoulders as he glanced around them for some threat to tie it to.

The beach was peaceful, though, as the sun climbed.  The waves were sliding back as the tide rolled away, a flock of gulls pattering down to chase shellfish as they scuttered into the sand.  There were other beachcombers about a quarter of a kilometer down the curve but no one was looking their direction.

No trouble- except that she’d pulled away from him. From the impulsive affection. And considering his hands and lips had explored far more thoroughly over the last twenty-four hours?  

It hurt.

It was strange.  He didn’t separate Commander Shepard from the rest of her quite the way she did.  It was the whole of her….that he loved.

But...Commander Shepard didn’t ever need his protection.  His assistance, his skill, his abilities. All of that, yes, but not his protection.

But he got the feeling- he wasn’t quite sure why…

He got the feeling that Aedan? Aedan might.  

And that meant he needed to ask, even if she might tell him.  Hell, even if she might not.  He wasn’t sure, really, which would be worse. He breathed in hard. The last time he’d let an instinct to protect lead him down this road it ended in a tangle of disappointment.  Rejection.  

Worse. 

He took another breath. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’” She turned her head to the side to kiss his thumb. “Nothing at all.  I just…thought you were playing medic not...” Her sandy fingers fluttered to settle on his other hand and she swallowed, as if she’d changed her mind about what to say.  

Her voice was firmer when she smiled crookedly at him, “You’re just a little, a lot sweeter than anything I’m used to, okay?”

Oh.  “Is that..uh.. a bad thing?”  He ground his teeth at the way he stumbled over his words.  

Her eyes focused on him, sharpened, clearly catching the way his jaw had flexed.  Her fingers firmed over his. “No!” She added, in a softer tone, “Just sneaks up on me sometimes.”  

“I can stop, if you want.” Could he?  Probably not but, “Aedan, I don’t want this to go any faster than you...than you’re ready to go.” He offered and some of the churn in his gut released when she answered.

“This is just about the tallest cliff I ever jumped off of, sweetheart. Might be the prettiest, too, though.”

He chuckled but he cupped her chin in his hand and reminded her, “You..uh, you didn’t jump off alone, you know.” A hard road, a cliff.  They’re on the same page, anyway.

She leaned into the support of his palm. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”  He couldn’t resist brushing his lips across her freckled forehead and the pleased hum was a much better reward. “How’s the view from your angle?”

“Beautiful.” He smiled when she flushed, “Getting a little pink, maybe.”

“Charmer.” Aedan scoffed as she leaned up and pressed a salty, simple kiss to his mouth before she murmured against his lips, “You all tired out already or you wanna go check out the hammock I saw on the porch?”

His stomach rumbled between them and his face heated as her eyes widened.  “Or I can let you eat that breakfast I dragged you away from, first?”

He snorted and acknowledged, “Unless you want me to pass out in the middle, it probably would be a good idea, yeah.”

Aedan grabbed his wrist to pull him up before lacing her fingers with his but after they got to their feet she ducked her chin.  She glanced at him from the side, biting her lip.  “You said something about pancakes?”

He brushed the worst of the sand off of his trunks with his free hand. “I might have done.”  An *hour* ago, he didn’t add.

“No one’s ever...made me pancakes.” It was a simple enough statement but the hesitant way she said it made it shout like a confession.  Suddenly the way she’d bolted after he handed her that cup of chocolate and coffee this morning made a whole lot more sense.

“Definitely time to fix that.”

He tightened his grip on her hand and didn’t let go as they padded back up the curve of sand towards the cabana.

[gumnut-logic]

I Just Can’t

@janetm74​ requested a little Scott/Em from this prompt list.

So after a very long time away, I returned to the Gentle Rain universe for a little visit. It didn’t go where I expected.

The prompt was:

84) “I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”

So, yeah, one word of language warning.

Timeline: Fair way after most published events and I’m not even sure it is in the timeline to be honest. I just threw them together.

Emaline Harris was first introduced in Gentle Rain and she became a series :D She is an original character (my first, actually). The universe is also part of the Virgil/Kayo universe Warm Rain, but that is barely background in this fic.

Both series can be read in order on my website.

So many hugs for @janetm74​​ This is for you. Thank you for the inspiration.

I hope you enjoy

-o-o-o-

“I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”

Scott blinked at the fire in her words. He would have taken a step back, but he was held by his seat in One, its safety harness and back preventing him from moving an inch away from the fury of his wife.

Em hovered in front of him, the white of her medical baldric glaring at him. It had stains. Some identifiable, some not so much. But all of which he wished he could have protected her from.

But he couldn’t.

Because she was who she was and there was no way he could hold her back from helping people any more than he could himself. If there was one thing they both shared, it was that.

Her determination was what made her so beautiful.

“Emaline-“

“No!” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak after a stupid stunt like that. All you had to do was wait for Virgil.”

“There wasn’t time!”

“Another thirty seconds, Scott! If Virgil hadn’t caught you, YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” Her pale blue eyes electrified with a mixture of fury and fear. “I almost lost you! For no reason!”

“A life was saved!”

“Virgil nearly missed the both of you! He has enough bruising from his leap off that cliff after you to inspire his next painting. Kay is going to kick your ass, flyboy.”

Scott swallowed. Kayo he could handle, but he hadn’t realised Virgil had been hurt. “Is Virgil okay?”

Em sighed and looked down a moment before looking him in the eye. “No. No, he is not. You owe him an apology.”

As if he was aware of his name being mentioned, Virgil’s calm voice issued over comes. “Thunderbird Two departing danger zone. Transporting injured to Capetown Medical and returning to base.”

The line cut out before Scott could reply. The lack of personal address or even his callsign was enough to illustrate exactly how much shit he was in with his brother.

“Scott, please.” And suddenly the anger in her voice was gone. “Why? Why is your life not worth as much to you as it is to me?”

She wasn’t crying, but there was so much grief in her voice, he had to reach out and pull her to him.

There was resistance at first. She was as stubborn as she was determined to the point of the words being synonyms.  But then, as light as she always was, he drew her into his arms, hoverscoot rising at an angle and their baldrics clattering as they met. Her head landed on his shoulder and he held her there, stroking the nape of her neck where her hair bun left it bare.

“I’m sorry.” It was an exhalation.

“Please don’t do that again.” It was muffled into his uniform.

“Em, you know I can’t guar-“

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. She flung herself backwards, pulling away. Practised reflexes let her go out of respect, but he grabbed at her again. No!

She didn’t let him reach her, her hoverjets humming almost as angrily as her expression.

“No, Scott Tracy, you can guarantee. You can tell me that you will wait. You can tell me that you will consider. You will tell me that you trust your brothers’ knowledge and experience. And you can tell me that I am important enough in your life for you to not give up that life in a situation that can be easily avoided.” She drew in a breath. “If you can’t value your own life enough yourself, then value it for me.” A breath. “I love you, Scott…please.”

Every rule, every philosophy, every self determination screamed at him to deny her. The thought of putting his life above others was anathema. But his strategic mind flipped the equation without permission and he saw his actions from her point of view.

His brain listed off his abilities, how he should have been able to handle the situation safely.

And how it had all gone so far south so quickly, and how only the quick actions of his engineer brother had prevented a very long plummet down a very high cliff.

His first thought had been gratitude and admiration for his brother’s skill and the fact the rescue was a successful one.

He didn’t register Virgil’s grunts as anything other than simple exertion. Now looking back, now he didn’t have his arms full of terrified rescuee, he could take a moment to examine exactly what had happened.

Virgil hadn’t said a thing.

He had rappelled them back up the cliff. It had been all business and as the adrenalin had waned, Scott had just felt tired. Em took the rescuee into Two and after a silent scan with Virgil’s mediscanner, Scott had returned to One.

It was just another rescue almost gone wrong.

Virgil had just saved the day…again.

What if he had waited? Would the man have fallen?

His heart feared what would have happened if he did. That was why he had jumped himself despite the fragility of the rockface.

He looked up at his beautiful wife. “I don’t know if I can stand by and risk a death I can prevent.”

Her lips thinned, but her eyes were sad. “Neither can I.” She drew in a breath. “Commander Scott Tracy, as Lead Medical Officer of International Rescue, I’m citing you for reckless self-endangerment and recommending psychological review.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Little more than breath. “Not like this.

“I just can’t.”

-o-o-o-