#Helped me realize I hadn't been pain free in several months

[reorientingtothexdaylight]

While your GP refers you to a neurologist, do ask for a physio referral as well. A physio can help by working on your neck and shoulder muscles. Through a massage and by showing you exercises you can do to help strengthen them.

here's your regular reminder that if you consistently, regularly get headaches, you are almost certainly having migraines, not regular headaches.

MOST recurrent headaches are migraine headaches.

"migraine" does not mean "extremely painful headache." it is a type and source of pain, not a degree of pain. migraines can also include some or all of the following: fatigue, sensitivity to light and sound, visual auras, nausea or vomiting, dizziness, cognitive impairment, etc. these symptoms can be mild or severe and it may actually be difficult to determine if you have them. (who wants a bright light in their eyes during a headache?? i thought that's just how headaches were lmao.)

this is important because while aspirin, NSAIDs like ibuprofren, and other over-the-counter pain meds can effectively alleviate migraine pain, getting diagnosed with migraines allows for a wider range of treatments and preventatives.

it's also important because, in my opinion, your average general practice doctor is not equipped to diagnose you with chronic migraine. don't go to one expecting them to. a neurologist with migraine specialty is a better option, although a regular doctor can still be useful if they listen to you lol.

my life would be miserable and unmanageable without sumatriptan. and i never would have gotten a prescription for sumatriptan if i hadn't gone to my GP and said, "i have migraines and want to try migraine medicine," even though at the time i wasn't 100% sure that was true.

if you have chronic headaches, they're almost certainly migraines. if no one has said that to you before, let me be the first. start treating your migraines.

[kabillieu]

Long post about my big kid under the break.

We pulled our big kid out of his public middle school almost two weeks ago. In the month before we unenrolled him, he had missed at least one day a week due to school refusal. Mornings were nightmares of me trying to coax him out of bed. Most evenings he experienced (sometimes hours-long) meltdowns over homework. From his first day of school until his last, he did not have one good day. Many days were awful. Maybe most days were. The day where I decided he wasn't going back, he got into my car at pickup and he was distraught and stressed out and angry and despondent. He hadn't been allowed to go to the bathroom during his last class because of some sort of construction happening in the hallways, and when I asked him about homework for that class he said he didn't know because he'd spent all of his energy just trying not to pee himself.

I had known for a while that we were almost certainly going to end up homeschooling him, and I began to feel that I was sending him to a place that he found torturous just to satisfy my own sense that we had tried hard enough, that I had advocated enough for him. At his age, homeschooling is usually a permanent choice because it can be difficult to get homeschooled kids back into public middle and high schools.

But for whatever reason, that day was the day I just finally had had enough. I don't want to send my child to a place where he is lonely and agitated and angry and in pain. My child has level 2 autism, and while he has no intellectual disabilities, I have come to accept that he has different needs than other children and that this particular public school at this point in his life was harming him. He can't thrive there.

So we pulled him out.

We're doing something called de-schooling through the holidays. I have a loose schedule of a few things I ask him to do on school days, but most of his time is free so that he can decompress and begin to heal from the extreme amount of stress and pressure he's been feeling. At the beginning of January he'll start an online curriculum that he can navigate at his own pace. We will probably need to find him a math tutor. I'm sure there will be ups and downs.

Right now I'm trying very hard to help him make some social connections with other children near his age. He was in fight/flight/freeze mode the entire time he was at school and because of that he couldn't make any friends there. He'd also begun to experience some light bullying.

I found a micro school startup in my area that has a STEAM club. It's teeny tiny (just 2 or 3 kids) but he started that last week. Next week we have a meetup with another kid his age who is also autistic. I'm in several homeschooling Facebook groups now, and I found this kid's mom through one of those. In January he'll be starting an online D&D group for kids that is moderated by an adult.

And today he's playing Roblox with another ADHD/autistic kid via video chat. When we lived in Montgomery 7 years before, we happened to move onto the same street as a woman Dominic and I went to college with. A has a son who's about a year and a half older than our big kid, and he has a lot of the same issues + giftedness, which is also under the neurodiversity umbrella. My big kid and this kid were pretty good friends that year, but he and his family moved to Vermont a few years ago. When I realized I was probably going to have to homeschool my big kid, I reached out to A because she'd homeschooled her child too, and she pointed me to a lot of resources, which is great. I also helped my kid get back into contact with A's son, and they coordinated a time to play Roblox together.

I can hear them now from the other room, and my kid is obviously having a great time. He's socializing with another kid. He's making a friend.

I don't know what's going to happen with his schooling, with his future, with any of our futures. Dominic and I are very much rule followers, so to take our kid outside of the traditional education route and try this different path is--I cannot overstate it--beyond scary. But I do know that I couldn't continue to force my child to go to a school that was making him miserable. And right now I'm listening to him play with another kid and he's laughing and having a blast.

He's smart. I think he'll be able to, for the most part, follow a curriculum independently, as long as he's allowed to go at his own pace. We will add enriching activities alongside the curriculum and continue to help him make social connections.

I just want to do right by him. I'm just doing my best.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Ya Titan is strong! Powerful!! Brave!! Enough so to realize when he needs to get help and assistance!! :)

I am physically disabled. The pain I feel in my legs and have felt all day every day awake and asleep since I was 11 years old, is finally becoming too much for me. I can still "walk" (read: limp). I can still stand. I can't do either very well or for very long, just a few minutes at a time, a few times a day. I can barely use stairs, and it's only gotten worse over the years.

So, I've decided to get an electric wheelchair. And that is great.

There are days where I can do workouts, walk 4 miles, and be completely fine. Then, there are days like today, where I have to call out of work because I'm in so much pain that I can't get out of bed, let alone move anything at all, without wanting to cry.

Just because I have good days, doesn't mean I can't have bad ones, too, and that those bad days can't be made easier. And a wheelchair is going to make things FAR better and easier for myself, and my poorly body.

I don't remember what it's like to walk, only what it's like to limp. I've never been pain free, but I manage the pain by sitting down. I haven't run since I was 9 years old, and now, I'm in my mid 20s.

When I was born, my parents were told I'd have a 1/100 chance to survive my heart and organ conditions, and that if I did, I'd be disabled and likely pass on early in life. For a brief few years, I could run, I could walk. Things were normal. I don't remember those days much, but there was one day where I ran, and began coughing profusely. I choked. That was... strange. Maybe I was sick? I got bronchitis frequently (3-4x a year), so maybe it was that?

In gym class, I continued trying to run. Every time, I'd start coughing uncontrollably, and struggle to breathe. I chose to stop running, and that didn't sit well with my teachers. At all.

Shortly thereafter, I began to get cramps in my legs. Kind of like growing pains, but not exactly... And then, months later, I hadn't grown one bit. But the pain stayed. Everyone around me was growing! But I stayed the same height, 4ft11in tall. Others reached well past 6ft. Their pains went away, but I knew this was something more, especially when, after 2 years, I was stuck at that height, and still in pain.

I resorted to limping everywhere, my legs aching constantly in random places, never consistent or in any pattern. My parents continued to tell me, for another 3 years, I was just growing. I'd grow out of the pain.

By 14, even my mom knew something was wrong because the pain was still there, and I still hadn't grown, and I still couldn't run without coughing. She went ahead, called a specialist, and brought me to him. I got blood work done, and when he looked over it, he said I was too young for lupus or arthritis, so he passed it off as an unknown illness, and sent me on my way without anything else.

My mom was livid. For another 2 years, she sought doctors to help me, with no success. By a miracle, my grandfather went to the hospital for pneumonia, and his nurse was a doctor who helped tremendously. Somehow, my mom convinced this doctor to take me on, despite the fact that I was 2 years too young for her practice, and when the doctor heard about my problems, she immediately sent me for more blood testing, called me in the moment results came, and diagnosed me with arthritis and lupus. She sent me to an asthma specialist, who diagnosed me with athletically induced asthma, and allergy asthma after several tests. I got an inhaler, and finally, I could work out without coughing!

But I still couldn't run without severe pain. I was still limping. And I was told, that pain will never go away. It will never get better, only worse. And I have no choice but to live with it forever.

And ever since, I've gone on, suffering, limping, never going very far. I can't go shopping without leaning on a cart, or cane. I can't go up a single flight of 5 stairs. And so, I acknowledged at long last that I need a wheelchair, and it's ok. This isn't a failure. This isn't giving up. Just like I have to get therapy and meds for my PTSD, and other mental illnesses, I have to get a mobility aid for my physical well-being.

I learned, when I was diagnosed with my mental illnesses, and reached my breaking point, I had to get help, and that there is nothing wrong with that, and there's no shame in it. It shows how strong I am because it proves I know when I need to rely on others since I've done all I can alone, and that has inherent strength in and of itself because accepting help is a step toward being more powerful by yourself.

And getting a mobility aid, I realized, is no different. It's accepting help so I can be more powerful on my own.

My father made me believe for years that accepting any help is a sign of weakness, and shows you're broken. He taught me that wheelchairs are exclusively for those who cannot walk at all, who are paralyzed or deformed or don't have legs.

But I've met a few specific people who, they've shown me otherwise. They're like me: they can walk, but it's hard and it hurts. And they taught me, I don't have to suffer by pretending to be able bodied. I don't have to mask as abled just to please my father, or society, or whoever. Just as I stopped masking my autism, I'm going to stop masking my physical disabilities.

And my old teacher, who supported me in every way throughout high school when almost everyone else made fun of me, said I'd amount to nothing, and wouldn't make it as a creative, she messaged me last night saying she has a wheelchair she's looking to get rid of, that it takes up room, and she'd love to help me out by selling it to me for whatever I think it's worth.

So, happy holidays to me. :) I'm buying a wheelchair, and I'm regaining my freedom. The pain may never get better, but my life as a whole can. And damn. My 2024 is looking great. Concerts, LARPs, 2 or more Renaissance festivals, a trip to Disney with my friends, another trip to the Poconos with the same people just weeks later, and finishing off the year with the Texas Viking Festival. I've quit college to work full time and save up for my own place. And I know, finally, it's going to be ok. For the first time in my life, I'm going to be ok. :)

[causeimhappinesss]

Disorder - Albert Wesker x reader

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Warnings: none (maybe just some angst)

Request: "May I ask for an imagine where Wesker has an s/o with Borderline Personality Disorder and sometimes feels like a burden because of it? Thank you very much in advance~"

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

In order to write this imagine, I had to do some research. I sincerely hope I didn't make a mistake or something that would offend someone. If I did, I apologize.

***

Albert loves people like him, that is to say, with perfect physical and mental health. Yes, he doesn't consider his God complex to be a mental health disorder... This means that, in order to be in a relationship with you, you must have hidden your Borderline Personality Disorder...

When Wesker finds out, it's because he suspects something, such as your mood swings, sarcastic answers, or the occasional (intense) outbursts you've had, whether it's about your work or your relationships with others. When it comes to him, you've always held it together as best you could. You have also expressed the fear of losing him on several occasions, especially when Excella or female scientists have been close to him. Much too close for your taste.

Not being an expert on such disorders, he did some research, but being unsure, he wouldn’t say a word about it. However, he won’t stop wondering... Does he want a normal person with weaknesses? Won't you ruin his plans to become the God of HIS world? Your mood swings, your tantrums could put him in danger...

And for this, he put distances between you for two weeks, without breaking up with you. At that time, your fear of abandonment and rejection increased, so much so that you couldn't sleep or eat. Every time you imagined he was about to leave you, your heart would clench and your stomach would twist. Tears rolled down your cheeks. You tried to fight it, you knew it was that damn disorder, but... it was so painful.

Then you realized that you had been idealizing him all along. Albert wasn't perfect. Albert was a cruel, selfish, manipulative man. All of this brought out a lot of anger in you. One night, as you tried to calm your tears, you punched your pillow repeatedly, imagining it was his face, until you were out of breath.

"Fuck you, Al! Why do I love you, huh? Why? Maybe it's me who should leave you, not the other way around!"

You felt that he didn't deserve you, you who were so devoted to him, who loved him so much, when he didn't give you any attention anymore.

Lying on your bed, your eyes fixed on your immaculate ceiling, you tried to think clearly, to put things into perspective. It was a battle against yourself and it was so complicated... but when your crisis dissipated, you sighed.

At least you hadn't yelled at him or called him names. With the years and your treatment, the crises were less complicated, the disease was easier to deal with than in your teen years.

To take your mind off it, while you were feeling ashamed of your own reactions, you decided to cook something to eat, something that made you happy.

While the food was cooking, you selected a novel that you loved to read to take your mind off it. Gradually, the storm of emotions and dark thoughts had dissipated and calmness had set in.

*

"What would William have done?"

It was a question Wesker often asked himself. Birkin was a calmer person than he was, more capable of love and affection, even though a few months before his death, his marriage to Annette had become complicated.

As he left his laboratory, free of all bacteria and his famous white coat, the man walked toward your apartment, still procrastinating. His heart refused to let you go, even though you weren't as perfect as he was.

"Anyway, no one will be..." he breathed in the elevator.

Even poor William Birkin had been stupid enough to inject himself with the G-virus.

When the doors opened on the top floor of the immense tower which gave an incredible panorama of the city, several kilometers away from his position, he went through the corridors to plant himself in front of the door of the apartment. He took a deep breath. He waited a few seconds, then took out his keys, opened the door and closed it behind him. When he ventured into the apartment, he found you asleep on the couch, a book on your stomach, an empty plate on the coffee table. You seemed to have fallen asleep a little unexpectedly. When he looked at your face, it looked swollen, especially your eyes, as if you had been crying.

Without trying to understand, he picked you up like a bride and brought you back to your room. Gently, he laid you on the bed. Immediately, he turned his back to you to undress.

At the same time, you opened your eyes and contemplated his muscular back, on which beauty spots were dancing. In spite of your tiredness and your creased eyes, you smiled.

This was the first time he had come to sleep with you in two weeks... for some time now, he had been spending his nights at the labs or in his own apartment... that meant he still loved you, right?

"Al...?"

Slowly, he turned around, his sunglasses on his nose. The moonlight that filtered into the room illuminated his toned torso, that of a God. He came to sit on the edge of the bed and one of his hands traced the contours of your face, from your swollen eyes to your slightly cracked and puffy lips.

"You've been crying, dearheart."

You didn't dare respond to that statement. You swallow hard. How to explain it to him?

"I know it's not easy for you right now... But I'm not going to abandon you, okay?"

A thin smile stretched your lips. Your heart skipped a beat. His snake-like eyes scanned you before he placed a warm kiss on your forehead. Even though he wasn't good at reassuring others, because before he met you, he rarely needed to do so, he was trying.

"I will try to help you, as best I can, but communication is important between us. Whenever something is bothering you, I want you to tell me about it."

You nodded and ran your hands through his blond hair, still sticky from the gel he put in it every morning.

"I'll do my best," you replied, before kissing him.

He responded to the kiss with tenderness, then pulled away from you.

"I'm going to take a shower. Will you join me afterwards for a bath?"

How could you refuse?

From that day on, you and Albert made a rule: tell each other everything every night. Absolutely everything. It was easier for him to reassure you, to make sure you would be okay and to help you through the occasional crisis, but also with your usual symptoms.

Albert would also consider finding a way to cure you permanently from this disorder, especially with the help of a virus. From experience, he knew that anything was possible and he wouldn't give up. He wanted you to be healthy and happy.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Four]

Summary: Desire and darkness consume Poe and the reader, leaving them with only one goal. In the aftermath, years of pain and grief finally surface. 

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen=dubcon/noncon smut. Dark themes, mild violence/injury descriptions, language, angst, fluff. WC: 10,551

A/N: SURPRISE! One day early because I love you all and got my shit together this week. PLEASE NOTE the red banners are visual cuts you can use to skip the dark smut should you prefer to! 

Poe stood next to Charlie on the tarmac, waiting impatiently with his stomach in knots of excitement and anticipation. Even Charlie was shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically quiet while watching the transport ship slowly landing. When it hit the ground and the flight intake crew moved forward to help with debarking, he tossed Poe his signature grin.

“Ready, Flyboy?”

Poe laughed, “What does that even mean?” He glanced down at his shirt, straightening it for the tenth time before smoothing his hair carefully. “It’s been two years, I’d have gone to pick her up myself if they would have let me.”

“That’s my point,” His friend replied smoothly, raising a brow at Poe, who gazed back at his best friend, bewildered. “Two years apart, barely been able to speak with her, you keep her picture in your inner pocket here,” He tapped Poe over the heart, where the picture would be if he was in his flight suit, “You two are the most clueless lovebirds, I swear. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Glancing at the ship to see the ramp still hadn't lowered, Poe frowned, a rush of emotions swirling within. “You...uh, knew how I-?”

Charlie clapped Poe on the shoulder, “Isn’t there a term for it? Soulmates, I think. Yeah.”

“Charlie, I don’t think-“

Charlie rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying anything else about it, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know I understand why you took so long picking the perfect shade of sand shirt to wear under your jacket.”

Poe hummed in response, stunned by the casual way his friend spoke like everything was inevitable. He wasn’t so sure, though he’d always thought the term ‘soulmate’ could apply to platonic relationships. And while he was pretty sure he’d never just felt platonic toward you in any sense, Poe wasn’t going to get his hopes up that you actually may return his feelings.

Two years ago, Poe had held you the entire night before his and Charlie’s departure for D’Qar, cried along with you over how impossible it felt to part, to not see each other every day when his life had been wrapped around yours since as long as he could remember. He had left a part of himself there with you on Yavin-4, and now you were about to disembark your transport ship and unknowingly hand it back to him by simply being with him, real and tangible.

He was nervous to see you, he didn’t know why. Maybe Charlie’s words were only highlighting Poe’s own concerns now that you were mere moments away. He had barely even been able to get in contact with you for two years, he and Charlie were far enough away and regularly over-worked that it was impossible to do as much as they both would have liked. What if you climbed off of this ship as a completely different person? Perhaps things wouldn’t be as easy and natural between you both now, after so long apart. 

He’d gotten through these past two years without you knowing he would always have his memories of you, that before he knew it you would be with him-and Charlie-again, and new memories could be made. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Regardless, the last thing Poe was going to do when he finally had you back was confessing his feelings and risk fucking everything up straight off the cuff. He’d lived with these feelings for a long time, he could continue to do so now.

Lost in his thoughts, Charlie suddenly stood taller next to Poe, who glanced at his friend to find he was beaming toward the transport ship. Following his gaze, he first saw that the ramp was down and many of the passengers were now splitting away meeting friends and family. It only took him a moment from then to locate you.

The moment his eyes landed on you, excitedly bouncing down the ramp with a duffel bag over your shoulder, eyes searching wildly around, Poe felt every single worry melt, and a heavyweight on his shoulders seemed to lift away. You still looked like you, and stars were you ever beautiful, the loveliest woman-because, you were a woman now, not a kid, not a goofy teenager-he’d ever laid eyes on. He drank you in, during those moments you hadn’t yet spotted Charlie’s waving arm. Two years had given your curves a new classification, a reverence within Poe rising as he gazed briefly in surprise at the swell of your breasts, the fullness in your hips.

He could...drop to the ground right here and declare his undying love for you, just for coming back to him with that same fucking perfect smile. Just for the way your eyes finally found him and Charlie and you lit up like a sun, bathing everyone lucky enough to be within your presence in your warm glow. It was a fucking sight, a moment that he would never forget; you grinning and then hurrying forward through the crowd. Your duffel bag hit the ground just seconds before you were throwing yourself toward your brother and Poe, who each expected exactly what you would do and easily stepped forward and caught you. Crushing you between them in an embrace that felt so whole, so entirely right. Poe felt for the first time in two years as though he were home.

Wherever in the galaxy Poe went, if he had you with him it would be home.

“Oh stars, kriffing STARS,” You were squealing, an arm wrapped behind each of their necks to hold yourself up, your lips peppering warm kisses between them each, “I’ve missed you both so much, my best guys!” You had a few happy tears on your cheeks now, Poe noticed when you leant your head to his and pressed your forehead to his own, repeating the affectionate greeting with Charlie.

“Kid, fuck it’s good to see you,” Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion, but his eyes were much drier than both yours and Poe’s. “How was the trip?”

“Maker, Charlie, Poe-you’re both so tall!” You laughed, realizing you were dangling a few inches above the ground as they held on to you. Poe liked the way he could feel your laughter as your body moved against him; as though you were passing it to him. “The trip was fine, crap food but I had a nice elder lady as my seat-mate. Reminded me of mum.”

They set you down, though Charlie was stroking your hair out of your face and Poe kept his hand on your waist, unable to let you go and lose the sensation of you finally, finally in his arms again. He never wanted to be apart from you for that long again, not if he could help it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it home for mum’s funeral,” Charlie murmured, an apology he’d repeated many times since your mother’s passing a few months prior.

“Hey,” You smiled sadly, “You two spent a lot of credits to holo-call in for it, that meant a lot to me. You know mum would have been livid if you’d abandoned your duties just for her.” Still, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and Poe reached up with his free hand to gently wipe them away as Charlie nodded solemnly, opening his mouth to respond when-

“Horn! Hey, come meet my brother!” The three of you glanced around, Poe recognizing one of the mechanics Charlie was friendly with waving him over. Pressing a quick kiss to your temple and assuring you he’d be right back, Charlie hurried away to greet the mechanic and his brother.

When you turned to peer back up at Poe, your grin wide and eyes seemingly doing their own assessment of him, he realized that this was now the first time you’d been alone together since that night two years ago. Feeling his face flush, Poe tugged you close against him and pressed his lips to the top of your head. You certainly hadn’t gotten any taller yourself, now especially small in his embrace. Something about the realization settled warm in his belly, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling back slightly to look down into your eyes again. Your expression was a little shy, as though you were pleasantly caught off guard by his affection, “How have you been, really?”

You had your hands pressed against his chest as you smiled up at him. “Good, glad to be here finally. Yavin-4 didn’t feel like home anymore after mum,” You trailed off, eyes falling and brightening somewhat as you gazed at his chest. “Poe, you got uh,” You slide your hands across the expanse of him and Poe had to work to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of it as heat coiled within him, “Like, big? Broad. Wow, oh and less scruffy, too!” You added, eyes swinging back up to his clean-shaven jawline.

Poe made a noise of embarrassment at your words, smiling at you shyly. Reaching up with one hand, you stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Dousing fuel on the fire within him, the motion was so second nature, intimate, comforting, that he really could have gathered you in his arms right there and pressed his lips to yours. He wanted to ask you if you realized how much he fucking loved you, if you had any idea what you did to him, body and soul and mind consumed and controlled by you and only ever you.

Instead, taking a deep breath, Poe shifted himself away from you casually, leaning at the same time to bring his head level to yours, his nose scrunched, “And you are exactly as short as I remember. Actually, might be shorter with my extra couple of inches now.”

“Rude,” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, whatever tension that had just been present now gone. Your eyes strayed away from Poe’s to look all around at what you could see of the Rebel base here on the tarmac, your gaze landing almost hungrily on a nearby x-wing before jumping to watch as several flew overhead; the current patrol.

He watched you in adoration as you drank in your first real glimpse of the Resistance, your eyes widened in wonder and excitement that Poe had felt too the moment he’d arrived on D’Qar.

But in truth, it didn’t compare to what he was feeling right now.

Poe reached up and stroked your cheek, “Welcome home, (y/n).”  

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

“Commander.” You stepped out of the cockpit, your hands twisting in front of you nervously. Poe looked up from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “We’re safely in hyperspace. Autopilot engaged.” You kept your voice soft, as if afraid he would startle.

Or maybe you were afraid of him now. He wouldn’t blame you.

Rather than replying, Poe simply made a noise that was meant to be confirmation he had heard you but it came out strangled enough that it sounded like he was in pain. And he was in agony but he was trying to hold it all back, figure out how to forget.

Did there exist a plant that could make him fucking forget?

He watched as your face twisted before you dropped to your knees in front of him, his body stiffening when you pushed between his legs. Your hands came to rest gently on his cheeks as Poe met your eyes, their expression mirroring his own; pain, regret. But there was something more there, though it hurt him to see it: concern.

“Poe,” Your voice was soft and Poe felt himself tremble in response, unwilling to accept your kindness. “Please, Poe. You didn’t do anything wro-“

Poe jerked himself out of your hold, leaning back as you remained crouched before him, your hands falling to his thighs to keep steady. “Didn’t do anything wrong?” He breathed, watching you look up at him. “I keep hurting you. All I do is hurt you, (y/n). Don’t tell me everything is okay.”

MISSION DAY FOUR

Desire.

It was...the only thing you could feel anymore. All there was. Nothing else in your mind, like it had been scraped of every memory, every morsel of you and the only thing that remained was this burning, intense thirst. It was fucking incredible, there was no pain anymore, the heat felt like it belonged, that you were designed for the sole purpose of allowing it to burn you. When you set your gaze to the man before you, you could see that he was burning too.

Poe, with his dark eyes and heaving chest, moved quickly-almost too quickly, and you wondered if the pollen gave humans a physical boost. It would make sense because when he was suddenly lifting you and thrusting you against the stone wall, you didn’t feel it. There was only pleasure, no pain, no disorientation, but fuck the feel of his hands finally on you was exactly what you needed. The relief of his touch was enough to have you craving more, more now, now!

As if reading your mind, he was swiftly peeling your layers of gear off, ripping and tossing the material, tugging off your boots, one hand holding you against the wall and it wasn’t until he was sliding your pants down that you realized you were dangling a few feet above the ground. So there was definitely some juice to the pollen. Something about that realization made your toes curl in anticipation.

“Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait another minute,” You heard yourself begging, and dark Poe smirked, pulling his clothing off before adjusting his grip on you. Now, his hand slid down to roughly hold your ass, pressing his body against yours so closely you were supported between him and the wall. You wrapped your legs around his hips, moaning at the feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, and you glanced down to watch as he lined himself up with your cunt.

And stars, he was huge, the biggest you’d ever had. Thick and veiny, you let out the filthiest moan just looking at his cock, your sounds morphing into screams when he tilted his hips and thrust into you completely in one swift motion. Filling you. Growling as he claimed you entirely.

It should have hurt. Even with how wet you were, being split open and filled so brutally should be agonizing but it felt amazing. You could hear yourself demanding he never stops once he began a fast, harsh pace. Your head knocked back into the wall and you still felt no discomfort, not with dark Poe surrounding you, filling you so perfectly. One of his hands did shoot up and grip your jaw, pressing your head into the wall so that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

He was feral, his expression greedy and dangerous and it only made you clench around him. “Fuck,” He groaned both hands tightening their hold on your hip and face, “G-going to fucking ruin you for any other cock, little girl. Fucking brat, always so mean, and now you’re begging for me to fill you up, aren’t you?”

You were delirious with pleasure, his words shot straight to your pussy, but you still managed to reply. “Want you to...fill me up, use me, just n-never stop fucking me.” He growled at your words and pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth to open so that he could lick into you, taste you and swallow your whimpers and moans for more. After a few minutes of this pace, you felt the coil you hadn’t realize was tightening suddenly snap, and you gushed all over his cock as you had your first orgasm.

“Oh maker, I’m cumming, fuck!” But even as you came, crashing through wave after wave, dark Poe didn’t let up and you didn’t feel even remotely spent. An orgasm of that magnitude should have had you passing out; instead, you screamed for more.

+

Poe couldn’t get enough of your body, tight pussy clenched around him as he took you in every position. He didn’t feel tired, sore, and despite having already filled you several times with his seed, his erection hadn’t worn off. You allowed him to roughly handle you into whatever pose he felt like, though you would curse if he took too long, and then mewl when he’d enter you again and begin harshly pounding you. Those dark eyes of yours always focused on him, taunting him. Begging him to claim you.

He was behind you on the floor now, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your lower back, forcing you to arch for him. You were screaming for more even as he relentlessly slammed into you and he only grinned at the idea of giving you what you wanted. He smacked your ass to punctuate every other word, “So fucking tight! Such a good little slut, taking all my cum, you want more now?” He slapped you one last time as his hips slowed, his orgasm tearing through him and pulling another from you and he cursed aloud at how fucking good it felt when you squeezed his cock during your high.

“More, fuck, more!” You whined moments later, even as his forward thrusts forced out the excessive amount of cum he’d filled you with. It was hot, the visual alone enough to hold his attention as you wiggled against him and begged.

“Good little slut, taking me so well,” He moaned, leaning over your back and nipping marks into your neck. When he rose back up, he pulled you with him so that you were flush against his chest as he picked up the pace again. The new angle seemed to hit something inside you differently, as your renewed screams were filling the room within seconds. “Such a perfect body, look at these tits.” He whispered into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your nipple.

You came again, drenching his cock and before you even stopped moaning from the high you were asking for more.

And fuck, he was going to give you more.

+

Hours, it had definitely been hours. At least six, you thought, if the light from filtering from the hall was anything to go by. The sun was different on this planet, never fully setting, so from your best knowledge you guessed Poe and you had been fucking for a good six hours, minimum.

It wasn’t enough. You hoped it never stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t.

It still didn’t hurt. Each orgasm wasn’t yet enough. You could see rather than feel the bruises on your skin, the cuts on your knees and hands from the rough ground. Even when Poe spanked you, the bite was momentary and delicious. This high was simply incredible. The sensation of him coating your insides with thick ropes of cum was forever engrained in your mind now.

You were riding him now; had been for the last few orgasms. He liked letting you do the work even though it didn’t feel like work-and watched as you rolled your hips and bounced for him, his hands occasionally reaching up to play with your tits. When he would come, he would grab your hips and slam you down, his strength preventing you from moving as he filled you deep, usually pulling your orgasm along with him because he was just so fucking sexy groaning for you.

“Like riding me, little girl?” He growled, releasing your hips and allowing you to start moving again. This time, you braced your hands on his chest so that you could change the angle, moaning when his thick cock dragged along your walls in the most perfect way. Kriff.

“Love it, never stopping,” You gasped, the room loud with the noises you each made and the sounds your cum stuffed pussy made each time he entered you. “Fuck, so fucking good.”

You sunk yourself onto his cock for a long time, watching his face as he filled you over and over, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Was it ever going to be enough?

+

Poe could see you were cock drunk, your grasp on Basic slipping to the point where you simply whimpered out short phrases, some of them entirely unintelligible. It was incredible, seeing you bent over the table, stuffed full of his cock and unable to articulate properly how good it felt.

“Oh fuck, here you go, take my cum,” He snapped his hips forwards and came, his grip on your hips like steel, holding you in place to take every last drop. You came moments later, your orgasm soaking him and dragging his out again. After just a moment, he readjusted you, lifting one of your legs onto the table and holding it there, his other hand sliding up your back and pressing to the back of your neck, pinning you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” You screamed when he started up again. He smirked, enjoying the sound of his body slapping against yours. From the way he held you, Poe had his wrist comm directly in his line of sight. After a moment, he registered the time on the display and realized that you’d been fucking for twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours.

“Fuck, been fucking you all day little girl, filling you with my cum for fucking hours and hours,” He groaned, pressing you into the table even more. You whimpered in response, unable to speak. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? Want more, come on I know you can speak, tell me you want my cum.”

“Uh, fuck I w-want, want your c-cum, please!”

“Yeah you do, fucking slut,” He picked up the pace again, then shot over the edge as you screamed, “Take my cum, take it, fuck.” Poe growled, still amazed at how tight you were, milking his cock perfectly every time. Once his orgasm subsided, he flipped you over onto your back and took a moment to gaze down at you.

Your black eyes were staring up at him hungrily, waiting for him to decide his next move. When you licked your lips, an idea popped into his head. He reached down and spun you so your head was at the edge of the table, your legs pointing away from him. He moved you so that your head just dangled over the edge, and then he pushed his fingers into your mouth, wetting them.

“Gonna put my cock down your throat, think you can handle that?” He said, grunting when your lips wrapped around his fingers and sucked a little. He was quick to replace them with his cock, one hand moving to hold under your head and the other guiding his length into your eager little mouth. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned, quickly setting a steady pace.

Once he had a rhythm going, Poe used the hand not supporting your head to place one of yours behind that one, “Tap, fucking hell yes, t-tap my hand if you need air, ah shit!” He just managed to give you the instructions before the overwhelming feeling of your mouth working on him so expertly had his balls pulling up and before he knew it, he was shooting his load down your throat.

You swallowed everything and then continued sucking him off as he fucked your face.

Thirteen hours.

+

He tasted delicious. You’d almost wished, when he shot that first load down your throat, that he’d started things out this way so that the taste of him was on your tongue the whole time. You made up for it by taking as much as you could, swallowing around his length as you pulled orgasm after orgasm from him.

Eventually, you were moaning around him enough that he realized it had been a while since you’d cum, and he pulled from your mouth. His dark gaze searched your cum covered face greedily before he climbed onto the table, pulling you up to lift you over his cock. He lowered you slowly onto him, the stretch exactly what you needed and so perfect that the moment you were fully seated you came, jerking in his arms.

You were in his lap, your legs wrapped around his back, and you briefly thought of how this was the most intimate position yet. Your chests pressed together, and he was expertly moving you in his lap, helping you to ride him.

His face was a breath away. You closed the gap.

He groaned when your mouth opened for him, letting his tongue taste the mixture of you and his spend. You squeezed his cock harder, you were so turned on, and it only took a few more rolls of your hips to feel yourself come undone again.

Your head felt heavy, so you let it fall into the crook of his neck, nuzzling.

“Oh yeah, so fucking good,” You whimpered, your arms around him, “Oh, Poe don’t stop!”

Poe.

Your Poe.

+

This is how...this is how he would have liked to be with you the first time, how he pictured it when he was younger. You straddling his lap, wrapped around each other as you rolled your hips and he pulled the most delicious sounds from you with his deep thrusts. It was intimate, the position allowing him to move between kissing you, holding you, licking your breasts, ensuring you were enjoying it as much as him.  

He could whisper sweet nothings into your ear this way, tell you he loved you and that he’d take care of you. And you would have liked it too, he knew, because you liked watching his face, reading his expressions every day and he knew that would have translated over to making love.

But this-this wasn’t making love, was it?

You had dropped your head down as you came again, your body curling into his as though for safety, comfort.

“Oh, Poe, don’t stop!”

He was going to cum again, the sound of his name on your lips for the first time hurling him over the edge, “Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!” He pressed your body into his and dropped his head to your neck, where he peppered it with gentle kisses as he spilled inside of you.

You both slowed your movements after coming down from your highs this time.

Poe felt himself panting, out of breath. You were panting too.

But why...why was he on the table? Poe leaned back slightly and you raised your head at his movement, your eyes meeting his. They weren’t as dark as before, but you looked tired. Poe felt tired, exhausted really.

You were still moving your hips, almost as if on autopilot. But you were frowning at Poe as you did, and then you winced. He froze, watching as you looked down at yourself, his eyes following yours.

“No...” He heard himself whisper in dawning horror. You were covered in marks; bruises or bites, hickies, red welts from places that looked like they’d been slapped.

They had been slapped. He had slapped you.

Poe felt himself softening inside you, a pain in his back and knees, his chest smarting as well. He glanced down and saw track marks from your nails down his chest. He didn’t even remember you doing that, it hadn’t hurt at the time. You whimpered, this time in pain and he looked back up into your eyes. They weren’t dark anymore. You were crying.

“Sweetheart-“ Poe faltered, shaking his head and trying to clear the clinging fog. You shifted a little and he slipped from inside of you. Both you and Poe groaned at the sensation, and you quivered as the mixture of fluids spilled out from inside you. “I-what happened...what did I do?”

Poe was sobbing now too.

It took some time to regain enough strength to move from the table, without the boost the pollen had provided you were both spent and every tired, aching muscle, bruise and bite mark or scratch could be fully felt now. Poe recovered first, easing himself to his feet and searching for the packs you’d each dropped when things...went dark.

You were panting on the table still, in much worse shape than he was and the rising panic inside of Poe was giving him the energy he needed to get to the medkits. He pushed through the pain in his limbs, thirst in his mouth and throbbing in his head-none of it mattered right now, not when you were suffering. He glanced at his wrist comm as he unzipped the medkit and realized, with horror, that it had been fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of brutal, relentless, rough sex.

The plant hadn’t just taken away inhibitions, hadn’t made it impossible to resist one another, no it had obliterated both of you-pushed you both into the far recesses of your minds and forced you to watch as its pollen turned you into feral, angry animals with exactly one goal.

And it stole from you both, stole your consent, your right to chose, abilities to control the urges that were twisted by its potency. Warped into selfish desire, the need for release and control, as if it was some archaic mating ritual-mark, consume, dominate. It wasn’t real, none of it had been, each of you losing yourselves in a hopeless battle against the strength of the pollen. And Poe...he had been violent, mean, brutal. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been, but it was the unavoidable reality that he was much bigger and stronger, the boost of the pollen making it easy to manhandle you.

He would never forgive himself for harming you. For the things he said, the marks left all over your body. If he could have died instead, fought against the pollen and let whatever happened in that case happen, he would have. Ten times over, he would have.

Just like Charlie, he would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you.

But you had refused to run and told Poe that you didn’t want to die. At that moment, right as he was coiled to try and run from you, he realized that you could die too. There was no medical backup, no nearby crew to call for help. It was Poe and you and the bacta shots that would have been completely ineffective with the pollen pulsing through your systems. He had to give in, and the darkness had taken him over the moment he accepted it.

He remembers fleetingly thinking of all the times in his life he had let himself think of being with you intimately. Usually guilt-ridden, he pushed the thoughts away; as a teenager, he failed half the time, and as an adult, he tried to refocus on other women, but they never measured up. When his imagination did get the better of him, it was always, always tender. Soft, slow, sensual. Just the very idea of being the one pulling moans from your lips and taking care of you would send him over the edge.

But that wasn’t what happened here. It wasn’t a light high that lowered inhibitions and made the sex last longer, feel more intense. No, this was a sinister plant so potent it drove away each of your humanity and respect for one another, pulling pleasure for yourselves instead of giving it to one another.

It was cold and harsh, and Poe was devastated.

You whimpered suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, his head shooting up to look toward where you were laying on the table. “Sweetheart?” He stood the medkit in hand and tried to swallow back his sobs as he moved toward you.

“S’okay,” You groaned, eyes pressed tightly shut, “Find the bacta?”

“Yes, I-“ Poe faltered as he stood at the edge of the table, his hands holding the bacta shot he’d pulled out. “Can I touch you, or do you want to try and-?“

“Poe,” You mumbled tiredly, “I’m okay, please just give me the shot.” You attempted to roll yourself to your side and expose your buttocks for him but only ended up sobbing in pain again.

Flinching, Poe reached out and gently, so incredibly carefully, helped you to twist your hips. He heard himself whispering words of comfort but focused on opening the shot and lining it up. When he plunged the needle into you and pressed down on the plunger, you let out a weak but relieved little moan. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, tossing aside the bacta shot and brushing his fingers over your face comfortingly.

His shattered heart beat hopefully when you reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing.

+

Poe was watching you race Charlie up an older tree, his strength no match for your agility as the smaller sibling. It was a lazy day, hot enough to warrant a day by the river-which was what most of the kids in their town on Yavin-4 had been thinking, it seemed. The banks of the river were piled with kids and teens as far as he could see, though thankfully the prestige of the Horn and Dameron families left your favourite spot along the water relatively free of unwanted guests.

A few friends were nearby, giving Poe his space as he sat leaning against a boulder. A book sat open in his lap, though he’d been distracted many times now thanks to his inability to control his thoughts around you. His father had assured Poe that it was natural at seventeen to have a wandering mind, a surge of hormones, he’d horrifyingly explained. He advised that should the thoughts and feelings become too intense, that Poe needed to take a few breaths, refocus elsewhere, remind himself of the person that deserved his respect and not his wayward thoughts.

But Poe didn’t have these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck about anyone but you. It had always been you, and though so far he’d managed to hide his emotional and physical feelings from your notice, it alarmed him in moments like this. When you revealed much more skin than usual in a simple water suit, hair and sun-kissed skin damp from the water, he worried he might slip up. He was as ashamed of the direction his thoughts would go in as he was sure that you would, for the rest of his life, be the only one he ever truly admired so ardently, loved so deeply that he fought to refuse to disrespect you with his hormone fuelled thoughts.

You gave a whoop when you reached the highest point the tree would allow, its trunk and branches thinning enough to make it unsafe to climb any further beyond. A friend of yours, Tahla, and a few of his buddies were nearby in the water, laughing and teasing you from below and jokingly daring you and Charlie to jump. It wouldn’t have been unsafe to do, so instead, you both laughed and began the slow climb down.

You were moving much more slowly than Charlie now, out of breath from the race and taking care not to scratch yourself. Your brother hit the ground, tossed Poe a smirk, then barrelled into the water to cool off. Poe rolled his eyes, laughing as Charlie started picking up some of the smaller guys and tossing them into the water. A game fondly, yet unofficially, referred to as tempting the bull.

Poe adjusted himself against the rock, trying to get comfortable but he felt warm enough now that he thought he should get in the water as soon as Charlie wore himself out enough not to be a threat. You were still a good way up the tree, now slowed even further as you had a conversation with one of Tahla’s friends that had come out of the water to chat with you. Frowning to himself, Poe watched as you continued a friendly banter and felt the clutches of envy reaching for him.

This seemed like a good enough excuse to close his eyes and take one of those deep breaths his father advised. First standing, Poe tugged off his shirt so that he could make his way to the water, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Taking half a breath in until the sound of a branch snapping and your scream halted him in his tracks. Poe’s eyes snapped open and then he was frantically running, too far away to do anything as you lost your grip and fell, slamming into the ground on your side and letting out a pained wail.

Poe briefly met Charlie’s wide eyes as they both ran for you from different directions. Panic reflected there, but Poe got to you first and his eyes moved to you. Annoyingly, the blonde who had been speaking to you-distracting you-was knelt over you and worriedly checking you over.

Poe pushed him away from you, “Don’t touch her,” He heard himself snarl, taking a threatening step toward the kid, who raised his hands in surrender, “Get the fuck-“

“Poe,” He halted in his tracks and spun at the sound of your tiny voice, his anger waning the moment he saw you clutching awkwardly at your arm, Charlie knelt beside you. It was like you hadn’t even noticed your brother, though, your eyes only on Poe, surprisingly intense as you stopped him from chasing down Tahla’s idiot friend. “I-I think my arm is b-broken.” You sniffled, eyes streaming, and flinched as some of the tears ran through the scratches on your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart,” He was kneeling in front of you seconds later, inspecting you all over for any more injuries, thankful when your head appeared to be free of any bleeding. He looked to Charlie, who read his thoughts instantly.

“Kid, I’ll run ahead and let the Healer’s know what happened, flyboy’s got you.” Charlie kissed the top of your head and ran off at full speed.

You let out another sob, this time revealing to Poe that your pride was as injured as your arm. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” And with great care, he slid one arm under your legs, the other bracing your back, lifting you as he stood.

He carried you with great caution, moving a little slower than he’d prefer but, since you were still flushed and awake he figured jostling you too much would cause more damage than taking his time getting you to the healer.

“Were you gonna punch Raine, Poe?” You asked, still holding your arm carefully.

Poe grimaced, “He distracted you, should have waited till you were on the ground to bug you.” He replied tightly, not meeting your gaze as he didn’t want you to see in his expression how upset he was.

You sensed it, though, your good hand reaching up to stroke his jaw one, two, three times in a successful effort to soothe him.

“Raine isn’t all that distracting.” You murmured after a minute. Poe had to bite back a pleased smile, a little guilt bubbling up as a rogue thought tumbled in the back of his head that perhaps you had been looking at someone else when you became distracted.

+

Poe was a stubborn fucking man, this was something you’d always been keenly aware of, but at this moment you wanted to throttle him for it. You didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him, though the bacta shot he’d given you had you feeling physically wonderful, it did nothing to help your mind.

And you were so weary, all you wanted to do was sleep but his refusal to receive his bacta shot was preventing that from happening. You just needed to close your eyes for a few hours and let your brain process everything that had happened.

“Poe, there’s no reason for you to say no to the shot. You know I have to do it, it’s my directive-“

“And as your Commander,” He cut you off, pushing the hand that held the shot away, “I’m ordering you to not follow the directive. I’m fine. Don’t need it.”

And he wouldn’t even look at you now, his eyes everywhere but yours, his expression tight. Stubborn, stupid flyboy!

You considered how to convince him, realizing the arguments you had used so far were ineffective. “Poe, I don’t know anything about this pollen.” You stepped up to stand in front of him at the table, both of you now dressed in fresh clothing, skin scrubbed with medical towelettes, though you both needed to take showers urgently. You stunk.

Poe glanced at you nervously as you came into his space, and you wanted to cry at how he looked afraid of you. Afraid to move, because he might hurt you. You could see him taking the last few years and pushing it all into this fucking day, convincing himself that he hurt you again, that it was somehow his fault.

You’d really done a number on him. Your heart filled with sorrow.

“I feel fine.”

You set the shot down on the table next to where he sat, then reached up and grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. He flinched at your touch, his body going rigid. “Poe, baby please let me do this,” His brows shot up in surprise at the sincere concern in your voice, the tenderness of your hands on his face, “If for no other reason, to at least prevent cardiac arrest or...or a relapse.” You didn’t want to say this aloud, but you knew that just because you’d been exposed to the pollen once didn’t make either of you immune to its effects. The bacta would ensure that nothing further happened while you were on the planet.

“What?” His voice was sharp, “Are you saying I could...that I might-“

You shook your head, “I’m saying I don’t know, and anything is a possibility if you don’t take the shot.”

Poe sighed heavily, his eyes closing as he gave you a small nod. Wordlessly, he stood and you dropped your hands, picking up the bacta shot as he undid his belt and pushed one side of his pants down just enough to reveal his buttocks. Wasting no time, you plunged the shot into his skin and let out a breath of relief at his sound of content. Without thinking, you placed your free hand on his lower back in comfort.

“Thank you, Poe.”

He fixed his pants and glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression painfully dejected. You wanted to hold him. Instead, he took a few measured steps across the room and stooped to pick up both of your packs, no longer meeting your eyes. You sighed.

“Let’s find somewhere to get a few hours shut-eye.” He said, leading the way out of the room.

You followed him, glancing over your shoulder at the room one last time, your heart ten times heavier than it had been before you entered it.  

+

It didn’t take long to find a room with a few bunks, you and Poe each falling to an empty bed and falling asleep in a matter of moments. You were able to get a few hours, waking up feeling surprisingly refreshed, one of the helpful effects of the bacta shot. You were on your back and blinked up at the base of the upper bunk for a few moments, confused as to why you’d awoken. A sharp, suppressed sob pulled your attention to the bed just across from you, though Poe’s back was to you, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying.

It happened then, a monumental shift inside of you that was like seeing your whole life flash before your eyes. Only it was all Poe, every single moment of your life interwoven with him because he had always been there, always been absolutely everything to you. Seeing him across the room from you, trying to hide his pain again. Something in the core of your being shifted. You had to bite back a gasp as you felt several years of pent-up anger and pain begin to melt away until you were left raw, trying to reconcile how you had let your relationship with Poe get to this point, and even why you ran in the first place.

Maker, you were awful. Charlie would be ashamed of you, he loved Poe like a brother and you had been nothing but cruel these last couple of months. Another choked back sob cut through the air and you wanted to walk over to Poe and soothe his pain, assure him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and you didn’t know how to even begin to try and repair everything between you and him, especially not after what had just happened.

But you did...you wanted your best friend back. Which meant you needed to do some serious thinking. And that couldn’t all happen right here during the mission. So you pretended to just be waking up, noisily to give him a moment to hide his tears and pushed everything else back-just for a little while longer.

Poe stilled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head duck down, no doubt wiping his tears away. By the time you sat up, he was rolling over at pretending he had just woken up as well.

“Hey,” You gave him a small smile, then glanced at your wrist comm. “If we eat something and then start our search, we can be back at the ship in roughly four and a half hours.” Poe nodded in response, sitting up, and you watched him reach into one of the packs by the side of his bed. He pulled out two bottles of water and a couple of rations each, handing yours to you and carefully avoiding touching your skin as he did.

As much as you wanted to tell him you weren’t afraid of him, you knew this moment wasn’t the time to start the conversation. Instead, you ate in silence, Poe’s eyes on the floor and yours gazing at the walls, which had some basic Empire propaganda posted upon them.

After breakfast, you each suited up properly for exploring the facility and set out, wandering the halls cautiously in search of the main control room. It didn’t take too long to find, though you were held up trying to get the door to disengage. When your usual tricks didn’t work, you had to set up a charge and blow the door. You’d used these kinds of minor explosives plenty of times, retreating down the hall further than necessary as you counted down until detonation.

Surprising you, Poe suddenly spun from where he stood next to you and blocked your body protectively with his wider frame as the door was blown off of its hinges. He looked over your head, hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move until you leaned to look around him and confirmed it was safe to move in.

You felt as though your heart was sitting in the back of your throat now.

It was well preserved, evidently one of the first rooms to be locked up when the Empire forces abandoned this outpost. It was a treasure trove of intel and you excitedly got to work, breaking away from Poe to complete a safety sweep.

After completing a preliminary search of the room, you found the main control panel and, flipping through every piece of information you had in your brain on old technology, you started pulling it open to seek out where you could insert the data drive you’d brought. You were confident BB8 could crack through any ancient firewalls on any of the data you were able to recover. Poe was doing similar work at the stations' console across the room, working in silence but sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, looking away before you could catch his eye.

A while later and you were on your back under the console, seeking out the hidden panel that would give you access to the data bridge. It took a few minutes, but you finally found it and had to finagle it awkwardly with your nails, trying to pry the cover off. It gave a satisfying little ‘pop’ when you managed to free it.

And then it promptly fell straight onto your face.

It shot straight through your hands, the edge smacking off of the corner of your cheek before bouncing to the ground. “Fuck!” You cried, feeling the skin tear and warm blood pooling out.

Stars, you really were off your game.

Dabbing at the blood carefully with the sleeve of your shirt, you were suddenly dragged out from under the panel by your ankles. Before you could even question what was happening, Poe was leaning over you, his expression panic-stricken, only paling further when he saw the blood on your cheek.

“What happened?” His voice was frantic, hands hovering above you; it was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction for him that for a moment you could only stare up at him in surprise. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I’m okay,” You assured him hurriedly, sitting up onto your elbows, “Just dropped that panel on my face.” You gazed at Poe as his eyes dropped from you to the panel now laying on the ground next to you. A modicum of relief swept over his features fleetingly.

Wordlessly, he reached into your nearby pack and pulled out a bacta-spray. When his hands raised toward your face, you watched as he hesitated briefly before he touched you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you steady, the other applying the bacta-spray.

Still holding you, he dropped the spray into the pack again and pulled out a bandage. “Turn your head for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his eyes focused on your cheek.

You did as he asked and waited as he used both hands to apply the bandage over your skin. Peering up at Poe when he finished, you were touched by his gentle care, though you understood it was coming from a place of contrition more than anything. His fingers absentmindedly brushed downward, to ensure the edges of the bandage were sealed; you shivered involuntarily at the light contact.

Poe went rigid, his eyes meeting yours briefly in surprise before you glanced away, your face flushing. “Thank you.” You murmured, remaining still until he scooted back and stood, and then you were quickly pushing yourself back under the panel.

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

You sat back on your hunches, eyes on the man in front of you as he came apart, the emotions he’d tried hiding from you since that morning now spilling out. You were holding yourself steady by gripping his thighs and could feel the way his body was as rigid as durasteel. You looked at him and reminded yourself that this was what you would do to him if you left again, that leaving things unsaid and unresolved was never the answer.

“I hurt you, over and over,” His hands came to clench at his sides, gripping into the sheets of your bunk, “I said horrible things to you, at Charlie’s funeral and then since you’ve been back, and yesterday I-I can’t even-“

“Yesterday wasn’t you, Poe, it wasn’t either of us.” You interjected softly, urging yourself to remain exceptionally calm as he came undone.

He huffed, unimpressed with your argument, “Y-you and I, we lost everything the day Charlie died. But you kept it together, organized the funeral, smiled and hugged everyone who came up to us...all I could do was stand there and be angry at y-you even though I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Poe shook his head aggressively when you opened your mouth to interrupt, “No, you know it’s true, you even said it yourself. I failed you. And then you came back and I failed you again, let us drift further apart than we’d been when you were in a different galaxy. You lost your brother, and then I lost you both and I-I’m so, fuck (y/n), I am so sorry.”

And he sobbed, a retched, heartbreaking sob that almost knocked you off of your feet, it was so real and deep. You couldn’t help the tears that poured down your cheeks in response, and you were momentarily at a loss of how to respond. How could you even begin to help take away that much pain? When you were the fucking person who caused it?

Unsure of what else to do, you slid forward and in between his legs again, your hands moving to grip his forearms. You rubbed up and down soothingly and held him harder when he tried to pull away.

“You shouldn’t be near me, not after w-what I’ve done to you.” He gasped out, failing to move out of your grasp but continuing to struggle. It was a testament to his fear of causing you harm that he simply didn’t push away, as the stronger person.

“Neither of us had any choice, Poe, we were both covered in that pollen. And,” You moved your head to catch his eye, to ensure he heard your next words, “And Poe, I was the one who tackled us into that bush, who forgot the map they studied for two days that showed that cliff. Do you blame me for what happened?”

Poe almost glared at you, stilling, “Of course I don’t blame you-“

“Then understand that I don’t blame you either, Poe, fuck.”

“(y/n),” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, “You said...right before I-you said that you didn’t want to die. When you put it like that, I knew it meant you understood what was happening but hadn’t heard of a plant this powerful and didn’t know if you could die if we didn’t...” He paused, shaking his head. He looked at you then, through tear-soaked lashes, an expression so full of sorrow you stopped breathing. “That was the only reason I stayed with you. I was fighting it, I was going to make a run for it when you wouldn’t. I wanted to run, let myself die because I could feel what the pollen was making me want to do to you and fuck, it scared me. What I did to you yesterday was horrific. Unforgivable. Everything I’ve done to you is.”

Suddenly, you were angry, his words registering in your brain like an explosion, “Shut up,” You growled, harsh enough to catch him off guard and he was peering at you in surprise, eyes searching your face in confusion. “Don’t ever, ever say-I can’t believe you...why would you want to die, Poe? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could survive you dying? That I would want to live in a galaxy where you and Charlie were both gone? I left, I know, but I always knew you were at least alive!”

Poe gaped at you in shock, looking as though you had just slapped him awake, cleared the fog from his brain. Before you knew what was happening, he reached down for you and gripped your waist before dropping to his knees on the ground with you, crushing you into a tight embrace. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, and you wondered how you ever could be trusted enough for this strong, capable man to let himself become so vulnerable for you.

“Didn’t mean it,” He murmured, nuzzling your neck slightly as you instinctively run your fingers through his hair. “I promise I won’t leave...if you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you.”

You remained in Poe’s arms for some time, the silence was no longer heavy with anger but rather thick with emotion. And stars, you had forgotten what being held by Poe was like, the warmth and safety his arms had always surrounded you with. You let yourself forget; instead, you’d spent these last few years painting a picture of Poe Dameron with only the medium of his final words to you, resulting in an ugly, distorted image that served to fuel your pain, your resentment.

In doing this, you had forgotten how complex Poe was, how he acted cocky, snarky, but deep down he was a serious, earnest man with a heart of gold. He let himself feel, didn’t try to hide his emotions from you or Charlie growing up, he cried when you cried and...and fuck, the one time he messed up and let his emotions get the better of him, you fled and didn’t look back. You didn’t let him apologize, and you knew even if he had found you straight after your fight you wouldn’t have listened.

You abandoned Poe because you had been afraid, a coward if there ever was one in this situation. And you weren’t just running from the loss, you were running from feelings you didn’t understand the depth of until you lost your brother. Because there was this moment, it was so brief, fleeting, but for just one moment you had been relieved that Poe hadn’t died during the Gold team mission.

And what did that make you? Not only a coward for running but a monster for thinking it in the first place. Instead of dealing with any of your feelings, your grief, you took the easy route and fled literal constellations away, severing ties with the one man in the whole galaxy who mattered to you anymore because you were terrified of how fucking in love with him you had been, and how your brother dying was what made you realize it.

+

Poe had let you shower first, taking time while you were in the fresher to collect all of the items from the mission and put them in an airtight container. He didn’t want to risk any of the pollen getting onto either of you again. Once he’d done that, he put on a fresh pot of caf and was halfway through his first cup when you emerged, hair down in long, damp tendrils, wearing another of Charlie’s old shirts and some worn jersey shorts.

“Oh, maker, caf!” You groaned happily, eagerly accepting the cup he’d poured for you and taking a long swell, eyes closed. Poe watched you, his mind still reeling over everything that had occurred in the last day.

You had been acting so much like the you he remembered, the person he’d grown up with-so kind-hearted, understanding. It was overwhelming to try and process what had happened with the pollen while navigating this shift in his relationship with you. For the first time in a long time, Poe felt as though his best friend was coming back to him.

“Did you,” He paused, gauging your reaction to his voice, but you just observed him over your mug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Did you keep a lot of Charlie’s things?” If you were upset by the question, it didn’t show. You considered his words, nodding.

“I did, at first. I left so quickly that I didn’t have time to grab anything of his...Tommy and Rico boxed everything for me and kept it stored until I was reassigned.” Your expression tightened at the memory, “I had a few weeks off, I planet hopped to some of Charlie’s favourite spots, then once I was settled in at my new assignment had everything brought over. I kept a lot of his shirts, personal effects. Just donated his pants, really.”

Poe smiled, “I guess there were some very happy big and tall men that found those pants at the shelter.” Cheesy, he cringed internally.

But you laughed, a genuine little giggle just for Poe, one he’d heard a million times before but it had been so long, emotion bubbled up within him and his smile faltered; he glanced away, hoping you wouldn’t notice his shift in mood.

“What is it?”

Poe sighed, mildly amused at your familiar behaviour. You never did let him get away with hiding things if you could help it. Rather than explain how much it meant to him to be standing there with you, laughing, he swivelled the conversation, one last thing on his mind.

“I’m going to say something, and then if you want to just close this conversation after I do, I’m good with that, okay?”

You tilted your head curiously, giving him a little nod, “Sure.”

Poe looked away from you, staring down into his mug as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I know it was the pollen, all of it,” He took a deep breath, willing his brain to make itself useful, “I still need you to hear me say this: the things I said to you during...while we were under it-I wouldn’t ever say anything like that to you, (y/n). They were mean and filthy, crude words I’ve never...would never...not that we would, I mean, shit.” He ran a hand over his face, holding over his forehead as his frustration with himself grew.

“Poe?” You said after a pause, and he glanced up. Your expression was exceptionally understanding, “The same goes for me. The scratching too wasn’t me. And,” Your lips quirked, “I think I called you Commander a few times, and please know I do not call people by their rank during sex, stars.”

Poe chuckled, “Obviously, that would be fucking embarrassing,” Your smile widened at his response. “It’s just important to me that you know I would never think or enjoy saying mean and degrading stuff like that about a woman, about you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, “I’ve always known that, Poe.” Pausing to take another deep drink of your caf, you then pointed with your free hand to your right forearm, “Also, um, I have an implant so we...that is, I’m not going to, uh...” You trailed off awkwardly.

His eyes widened in horror, realizing he hadn’t thought beyond the potential emotional consequences of what had happened. “Shit, are you sure?”

You nodded vigorously when his gaze fell to your stomach before meeting yours again, “No sex pollen babies.” Each of you looked away at the same moment, embarrassed.

After a few minutes of quiet, Poe looked back down at you. You were standing next to him, leant against the counter and staring unseeingly in front of you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocused and met his, “Y-yeah, Poe?”

He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. Using his free hand, he cupped the back of your head and lowered his own to press your foreheads together, an affectionate display you had both done since you were little. He felt you relax into it, and for a minute everything was quiet and peaceful and safe.

Poe felt like his shattered heart wasn’t in so many pieces anymore.

And then you reached up with your hand and stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Just like that, he felt you come back to him.

Poe smiled to himself, getting lost in the feeling.

@mermaidxatxheart​ @foxilayde​ @eleinemk​ @paintballkid711​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @deitysnips​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin

[archerofthemists]

Phantom Pains

TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide

Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills. 

Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools. 

Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with. 

Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner. 

Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates". 

And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice. 

However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress. 

Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely. 

But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game. 

Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly. 

Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in. 

Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him. 

Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples". 

So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.

Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported  a balcony.

Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea. 

Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking. 

"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."

Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel." 

But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush." 

Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed. 

"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked. 

Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it." 

He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!" 

"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it. 

Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor. 

Most of her that is.

The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body. 

Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on. 

When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body. 

The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in. 

 

The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest. 

It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?

The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.

Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub. 

"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate. 

"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.

"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.

"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"

"More than one?!"

"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"

Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!" 

Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.

"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality. 

It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out. 

So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.

Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.

In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.

"One thing at a time…"

He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself. 

For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.

"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly. 

"About what?"

"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.

The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.

"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself." 

He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?" 

" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again. 

So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.

Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….

"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.

"What...hap'n…" 

"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"

"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little. 

"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.

"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.

"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.

"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were. 

"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious? 

"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.

Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?

"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"

"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."

"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.

"Don't. I don't deserve it." 

"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."

Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.

"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"

"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…" 

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well. 

No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.

Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.

Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying. 

Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way.  Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.

Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.

Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need. 

Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself. 

Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another. 

"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him. 

Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked. 

"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly. 

"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"

Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently. 

"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it." 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

Taglist:

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[cherry-ber]

Too drunk to fuck pt 10

♡ Part one| Previous

You couldn't believe it, that not even a month could go by without having to worry about Mark. You woke up several hours after you got that text, and couldn't help the way your heart sinked, you had to get up and shower with the coldest water to be ready for the upcoming long day, calling said unknown number to ask for an explanation.

“Who's this?” ask back as you make your way to the door.

“Y/N? It's Jisung! Do you not have my number saved?”

“Jisung, it doesn't matter right now!” although you knew that it would be a big complain from him later “What happened to Mark?”

“He's alright now... Do you want us to pick you up so you can see him?”

“Well, yes, that's why I called, but what happened?”

“Wait, I'll tell Jeno and Jaemin to pick you up, they must be close to your place now” and he hung up, avoiding the question you made him.

You sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the car to arrive, writing a text for your mom apologizing for leaving suddenly and so early. The streets were barely lighted by the daylight, but when you saw the car lights shining in your way, you knew immediately who it was, you stood up quickly and walked in their way, Jeno rolled the passenger window down and both him and Jaemin smiled sweetly at you, you almost forgot where you were going, and jumped in the back seat. The ride to the hospital was full of laughs, you even stopped in a convenience store to buy coffee and snacks because none of you have had breakfast. Jaemin parked and the tension in the air made its way back to the moment, suddenly feeling too awkward and guilty to hold hands with Jaemin when he started brushing his fingers on your palm while you three walked to the hospital.

You've never stepped in a hospital before, when you were younger you were over protected, you never got [physically] hurted, nor did you go with your parents when someone did have an emergency, and everything overwhelming; families waiting for news of their loved ones, people who looked in pain, doctors and nurses who probably went home crying from too many emotions at their work place, you couldn't even imagine how Mark would look laying in those uncomfortable beds.

“Mark Lee” Jaemin says walking to a lady in a counter

“Are you his family?” she says in a monotone way, not even turning to look at him “only his family is allowed to see him”

“His family doesn't leave here, I'm his roommate”

The lady types Mark's name, not questioning anymore, probably feeling compassion over that young boy being alone all night , having no one else for him than his friends, who had been annoying her since she started her shift. She tells him he's not taking visits, but he's gonna be allowed out in a couple hours.

Jaemin makes his way back to you and Jeno, both unsure of asking, he just sits in the waiting chairs, his body too tired, not from today, rather than everything becoming too much.

“I'm going out for a smoke, do you want to come?” his friend asks, noticeably stressed with the hospital environment, Jaemin looks at you and shakes his head, Jeno palms his back and rushes out.

“You should go, I can wait here” Jaemin can't help the grin forming in his face when he hears your voice, he thinks it's adorable how not even in a time like this he can't be unhappy if you're there.

“No, he's just-” he realizes he's spilling too much “he doesn't like hospitals”

“I mean, who does?” you sit next to him, placing your hand on his thigh “are you okay?”

Jaemin thinks of opening up, he trusts you and he knows you'd understand his emotions better than him anyway, he wonders if it's easier to lie and say he's alright, but tired, and eventually decides that whatever he says is useless anyway.

“Aw fuck, did you tell your parents you were coming?”

“I left a note, I told them Mark had an emergency and to call me when they read it”

“I shouldn't have brought you here, I shouldn't have brought you yesterday, I just keep dragging you into this mess, I'm sorry Y/N” he hadn't even realized himself how guilty he had been feeling, for the longest time, none of it was him, but he made it him anyway, he'd never been violent, neither did he enjoy the things he did, he just did them anyway, but after a couple years of losing himself, he forgot that too, and having someone that cared for him as much as you did, he felt guilty over making you a part of his life, over stealing Mark's chance, your chance to leave him and leave the whole thing, he never meant it, he'd never do that to you “I'll take you back, Jeno can wait here and-”

“You never even told me what happened” you cut him off and he wonders if you were able to listen to the rant on his head “no one has told me what happened and I hate making up scenarios of this, just tell me what happened, I'm gonna find out anyway” your voice was full of anger and fear, but you couldn't handle it any longer, you hated that feeling of being kept from the whole thing, it made you feel like they didn't trust you at all.

“He, uh, a lot happened, actually” he takes a deep breath as he dives in deeper waters of guilt “you saw him last night, we kinda got into an argument before you left, he's not himself when he's drunk, he's a good guy, you know, but, he got a little bit out of his mind, he had been drinking, he had been smoking with Jeno prior to that, and when we left he tried to leave too, he crashed, but that's not why he's here, he, uh, got up, too numbed to realize that he hurted his ankle and got some lines of coke, too many, actually, he got overdosed and they took him here” Jaemin didn't notice the moment tears started rolling down his cheeks, it was guilt that was swallowing him alive, thinking of how he was the root of every single problem they were having “I didn't know that, I didn't know he was doing all that in a single day, I didn't know he'd try to follow us, I would've taken his keys, I would've said sorry, I shouldn't have taken you there, I shouldn't even be talking to you right now”

And you can't help but cry when he does, knowing how emotional and empathetic Jaemin could actually be, knowing how he tends to take credit for everything that goes wrong, hell, he probably blames himself for climate change, and knowing how sorry and scared he must have been feeling.

“Jaemin, it's not your fault. Mark makes hus own choices, maybe all of them are bad, but those are his” you swipe away the tears off his face with your thumbs “you didn't force him to do any of that, and I know you mean so much more to each other than you say, but you can't keep taking everything he does just because he's broken or whatever you're telling yourself” but you noticed mid-sentence that this was something you needed to tell yourself too “I'm sure he's grateful for you, but you can't keep fixing his mess every single time”

He feels like a weight has been lifted off him, knowing that you can see him for him, you can see how he cares for Mark, and understands what you mean, but it doesn't feel right at all.

“Yeah, i know that” he sits straight again, he looks like he never had that breakdown “Anyway, he's alright now, somehow, do you want me to buy you some coffee?”

You spot Jeno coming back, probably just because it was cold outside. “No, but I could use a walk, the environment is weird here”

You stand up as Jeno makes his way to the chair next to Jaemin.

“Can you take a shift waiting? She's feeling sick and we're taking a break” Jaemin asks his best friend “or you can come, he's probably taking hours to be free, he can wait anyway”

Jeno shakes his head, assuring Jaemin that he'd rather be inside, and that Mark could get kicked out any minute if he was awake.

There's not much to see in the surroundings of a hospital, nor in the parking lot, but the pain of all those people, mixed with Jaemin's and your own was getting overbearing. Jaemin takes a cigarette in his mouth and skillfully lights it real quick, you try to remember if you've ever seen him smoking, but you couldn't remember, nor could you remember his car of his clothes smelling like he did. He's quick to finish it, taking big puffs and barely taking it away from his mouth. He noticed you were staring at him.

“Do you want one?” he forgot his whole lecture on why he was guilty over dragging you into his life and suddenly he remembered as he was sure you were about to say yes “please don't say yes, I didn't mean to offer you one, actually” but he takes out another one, places it on his mouth and lights it, too quickly.

You couldn't help it but remember Mark, because the truth was that anyone who met Mark, would never be able to leave without thinking about him, he was too special to forget. Yes, Jaemin was the sweetest person on Earth, and granted, you'd choose him any day over any other person, and that's why your heart sunk when you remembered what the days hiding in abandoned place with Mark were like, full of uncertainty, but exciting anyway, how his strong leather and tobacco scent would pierce into your nose for the whole day, how he'd make you feel when his fingers ran through your thighs. You loved Mark, you've loved him for a while now, but now you loved him in a different way, you told yourself. There was no use in comparing the two of them since they were absolutely opposite to each other, but you'd love to forget what you felt for Mark anyway.

You take Jaemin's hand on your own, stealing a puff of his almost finished cigar, blowing the smoke directly to his face and smile fondly when he laughs it off. Something about Jaemin always felt right. He throws the rest of it, not risking a burnt when as he rounds your back with his big arms. He could swear he sees a whole galaxy in your eyes, the way they shine is absolutely stunning and it makes him feel warm and fulfilled. He gets closer for a kiss, a sweet kiss, but with the taste of tobacco in his mouth, it becomes easy to forget where you are. You can feel someone walking in your direction as you get away from each other. Jeno and Mark are walking slowly to the car, you remember how Jaemin said he hurt his ankle and giggle at Jeno smiling at Mark's struggle. Both you and Jaemin walk to them, but Mark doesn't care at all, you expected him to be less of an ass by then, and he expected it too, knowing well how much everyone cared for him, but too bitter seeing Jaemin with you, convinced that it should be him who's kissing you and taking you out every Friday night.

Jaemin drives you all to Mark's place, you've never been there, and you don't want to be there either way, so you wait in the car while they make sure Mark can survive a couple hours alone, he can't help but feel defeated, owing his literal life to Jaemin but still pretty annoyed about his new relation. Jeno decides to stay with Mark, promising he'll call someone to take a shift later, and now Jaemin has a some more time alone with you.

Your mom was worried after she read that note, following your instructions and calling you as soon as she saw it.

“He's alright mom, he hurted his ankle, that's it”

“Are you sure? We can bring him something and pay him a visit”

“I think he is tired, besides, I want to spend some time with Jaemin, can I come home later?”

She agrees, too enchanted when Jaemin was mentioned, and diving more into the idea of you setting down with him. Boys were never a priority to you, and somehow it made her happy you were with him. You had already hung up when Jaemin came back to the car, not sure if he should ask you out on a spontaneous date or wait until you suggested it.

“Are you busy, like, right now?” you ask before he can decide on what to do

“Not really, why?”

“I don't know, I wanted to go out, but now I'm thinking I'm more in the mood for a movie at home”

“Do you want me to take you home?” you laughed at how naive he could be sometimes

“I want to go to your place” you confess “well if you don't mind it, maybe we could go to my room and cuddle there”

Jaemin thought of the scene: his mom would definitely be surprised, he couldn't remember if his room was clean, but he sure wanted his mom to meet you, he wanted to have dinner together, he wanted to show you the cool stuff gathered in his room. “Well, we can go to my place”

Next

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A.N: i will never say sorry enough times because i can't help but take too long to update this,,,, anyway, thank you so much for reading this, i hope you're having a nice day/night, some people are still in quarantine and it can be messy to our heads, remember to take care of yourselves, much love! ♡

[name-me-regret]

The Hoodie Borrower - Chapter 8

Summary:

Tony wasn’t going to get involved with the kid. He’d made a mistake bringing him to Germany. Then he started to realize that he needed to keep this dumbass kid alive. Yeah, that’s all it was.

Author Note: So, I got super blocked and I kept going back to methods of trying to get past it but it didn’t work for a long time. Yeah... so, sorry this is so late. Didn’t mean for it to happen. Thanks to Diana for her spamming and encouragement. You helped me, girl.

Read it on AO3.

- - - - 

 “When the night has come    And the land is dark    And the moon is the only light we'll see    No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid    Just as long as you stand, stand by me         And darlin', darlin', stand by me    Oh, stand by me    Woah, stand now    Stand by me, stand by me    Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me    Oh, stand by me    Woah, just stand now    Oh, stand, stand by me...“

~Stand By Me - Ben E. King   - - - -   Peter grinned as he read the text message that Miles had sent him, always thinking his friend was super funny. He’d just scored a DVD player from the dumpster a few blocks from school as he headed for the subway to get home. Even if it didn’t work, Peter was pretty confident that he could get it working once again.   Miles to go for road work: So... wanna hang out this weekend? I found this awesome cafe last time. Wanna get some food or something?   Peter bee Parker: Yeah sure, that’d be great. MJ likes cafes and stuff, and Ned is always down. Let me ask them if they’re free   Miles to go for road work: Oh, yeah sure. Lemme know.   All the way in Brooklyn, a teenage boy let his head drop onto the pillow with a groan. “Damnit,” he mumbled.   Ganke laughed from his seat at his computer. “Again?” Another groan was Ganke’s answer. “Parker is totally oblivious, man. You gotta ask him straight... well, maybe straight isn’t the right word for it.”   “Fuck off,” Miles grumbled.   “Anyways, what I’m more concerned about are these... new abilities of yours. What’re you planing on doing with them? Gonna become like that crazy dude on YouTube?”   Miles turned on his back and looked at his hand, flinching as electricity crackled along it. “I dunno,” he muttered, flexing his hand and tried to do it again only for nothing to happen. “I think I gotta figure them out first before I decide to do anything.”   Ganke hummed in agreement as he continued to type on his laptop.   - - - -   “Hey May.”   “How was school today?” she asked as he tossed his bag aside and put the DVD player he’d found in the trash on the table.   “It was ok,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” He turned to face her and froze when he saw Tony freaking Stark sitting in his living room.   “Oh, Mr. Parker,” the man said with a smirk.   - - - -   Chaos Squad   Peter bee Parker: Sorry guys can’t make it to the cafe! I’ll explain when I get back   Miles to go for road work well go when you get back   Michelle aka the boss has changed the group chat to Nerd Squad   Ned your boi: Type F to pay respects to Peter ‘ditches’ Parker   Miles to go for road work: F   Michelle aka the boss: F   Peter bee Parker: :((   - - - -   Peter groaned as he lay on the concrete of the airport terminal, not wanting to get up but he forced himself when he heard what might have been machine gunfire. He sat up, clutching his bruised ribs and lifted his face. The fourteen year old was horrified as he saw what appeared to be War Machine falling out of the sky, judging by the colors of the armor.   He staggered to his feet, stepping forward as if he would help him, but he didn’t have super speed and would never make it in time. Peter heard Mr. Stark’s desperate cry of the Colonel’s name moments before he plowed at high speeds into the unforgiving ground. Peter shut off the comm with a shaking hand, the other one still holding it against his abdomen.   “Kid,” he heard, turning to see Happy signaling Peter to follow him. He glanced toward the direction he had seen War Machine fall, before he turned and hurried away.   - - - -

Tony went against the doctor’s orders when they told him he needed complete bed rest. He knew he should be resting, because he was in such pain due to his cracked sternum from getting a vibranium shield slammed into his arch reactor in his chest. It had been like after Afghanistan all over again, and it was hard to take deep breaths without feeling pain, and if he coughed or laughed it was agony.   However, he had to see the kid home. He knew that Happy could have easily taken him home, since he’d picked him up four days ago. Tony had to meet with Rhodey and coordinate their plan or attack. It had been such a difficult thing to think about, attacking whom had once been their friends.   And he had almost let Happy take him, because of the pain. Then the image of being knocked out of the air by that giant hand had invaded his brain, Rhodey falling with frightening speed toward the ground. So, he had gotten his battered and bruised body up. As he dressed with difficulty, Tony realized that he never should have taken him into this fight. He was fourteen years old for crying out loud. Luckily, he was more resilient than he gave him credit for, but the imagine of the kid laying on the tarmac looking broken wouldn’t leave his head.   Tony picked up the kid from his hotel room and driven them to the airport. And even if he had been on it before, Peter was still so amazed by the plane and the seats and being in the air for the second time in his short life (fourteen!), and his guileless attitude eased some of the hurt (Don’t think of it).   Then he had fallen asleep, proving he was more tired (or hurt) than he was letting on. That was after eating three servings of the meals on board. Tony was looking through the newspaper Happy had shoved in his hand and was amused as he remembered how much the man had bitched about it.   He must have dozed off as well, since he was also still injured and exhausted (more emotionally than physically). Tony hadn’t even woken up when Happy had lowered his seat to a more comfortable position. It was as they cleared USA airspace that he was woken up, by several dozen beeps. He jerked out of his slumber and into a defensive position, feeling agony shoot through his chest.   The man bit his lip to stop the cry that wanted to claw up his throat, seeing black spots from the pain. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and Roger’s voice (which he’d come to despise) in his ear ’He’s my friend.’ ‘So was I.’ The shield, which had been made by his father and that had once stood for justice, coming down as if for a death blow as he helplessly-   “Oh, mood,” a young voice giggled. Tony’s eyes shifted to the right and came to alight on one Peter Parker, a smile on his face still plump with baby fat. He was looking through his phone and Tony realized all at once that the beeping had been coming from his shitty iPhone. They must have gotten within satellite range of whatever phone company May Parker had.   It took him another moment to realize he was staring, and that’s likely why the teen was giving him a questioning look. Tony cleared his throat before he spoke. “You’re certainly popular, or is it a clingy girlfriend?” he teased, hoping his voice didn’t sound forced. He was certainly forcing himself.   Tony was amused at the look on kid’s face, seeing the flush crawling up his cheeks. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he muttered petulantly as he hunched his shoulders.   “A cling boyfriend then? I don’t judge. Free love and all that.” Peter’s face was pretty red by then and Tony felt like giggling. He was so easy to fluster, and it was a refreshing change. Peter wasn't like Steve at all, who would have shaken his head and ignored Tony.   Well, he supposed that he still wasn't use to Tony's antics, and gave it a month until he was sick of Tony. It was bound to happen.   "No, Mr. Stark. It's just my friends Ned and Miles. They're roasting me on Discord," he said with an eyeroll but a  smile on his face. It was a fond kind of smile that Tony hadn't worn since the days before the Avengers had become a thing. When it had just been Rhodey and him, and Pepper and Tony had just started what wasn't yet a doomed relationship.   "Oh, is that so? And what are they "roasting" you about?" he inquired, lifting his hands to do air quotes.   Peter giggled. "I can't  believe you did the air quotes. That's such a dad thing to do." He was distracted by another ding on his phone that he missed the stunned look on Tony's face.

No one had ever said he was paternal, in any way, and here was this fourteen year old having just crushed all that with one word. Granted, he hadn't  actually called him dad, but he had said he had done something a father would do (or did).   And even if it wasn't a big deal, since Peter had gone back to laughing at his phone, it was huge to Tony. He had no fatherly qualities and had no plans on becoming a dad, since his own father hadn't been... the best dad. So, he knew he would never make a good one.   As they dropped off the kid off in front of his apartment building, where he had laughed for the first time since before the Siberia incident, he knew he had to put some distance between Peter and him. He'd planned on taking the superhero teenager under his wing and teaching him the ropes, and perhaps he would be better than he had been; wouldn't make the same mistakes he'd once done. Now, however, after that one word, Tony couldn’t take the kid on as a mentee, it just wasn’t possible. He had to break away now, while he still had a chance.   Besides, he'd be fine. How much trouble could a super-kid get into stopping purse snatchers?   - - - -   When he had to save the disaster super-kid from drowning after getting tangled in his own parachute, he knew he couldn’t leave him alone anymore. Now, he had a new job, whether he wanted it or not. That new job was to keep one dumbass super kid from killing themselves.   - - - -   "Uuuugh," Miles groaned as he landed heavily on the concrete, spitting up a bit of blood which got on the mask he was wearing. He'd gotten the idea to use a Mexican wrestler's mask to hide his identity for now, since using a ski mask would make him look like a burglar.   Ganke rushed to his side as soon as he climbed the five flights of steps of the apartment building, breathing heavily. "H-holy... shit, Miles?" he gasped. coughing a bit. "Is... anything broken?"   He pulled up the mask, spat the blood in his mouth and lifted a thumbs up. Then fell back against the pavement, another pained groan escaping his mouth.   "Rip," his traitorous friend laughed at him, reaching out to help him off the ground. "Come on, enough with trying to kill yourself. Don't you have a date today?"   Miles elbowed him with a scowl. "It's not a date."   Ganke just laughed as he clutched his stomach. "Crashed and burned again," he cackled.   Miles only grumbled but didn't deny it.   "Is he still gushing over that Liz girl?"   When his friend's shoulders slumped as he sighed, Ganke only patted his shoulder sympathetically. It was one thing to try and ask Peter out and fail, but another to see him crushing after some girl from his school. Miles was hoping it was more that he was oblivious than him being straight. Because if he was straight, than he was screwed.

“This sucks,” he grumbled, Ganke nodding solemnly, even if Miles knew he was an asshole that enjoyed his pain. He didn’t know why he was friends with him.

“Come on, let’s grab some burgers. My treat,” he told him.

Oh yeah, cause he was awesome and bought him food constantly since his metabolism had skyrocketed like crazy.

“Then we can work out why you suck at asking out one guy to a single date.”

Also, cause they were roommates and it was too late in the year to change rooms.   - - - -   Peter jumped as his phone rang, fumbling with it for a moment and it was only his sticky powers that kept it from falling to the pavement down below. "Hello?" he asked uncertainly, recognizing the number but not sure if it was really Mr. Stark.

“Hey, kid, do you want to come over to work in the lab Friday after school?”

The fifteen year old was sure he was dreaming, so he used his free hand to pinch his right arm. It hurt. So, meant he wasn’t dreaming. “S-sure!” he sputtered before he could change his mind.

“Great. Happy will pick you up after school. I’ll call Aunt Hottie and let her know.”

He hung up before he could ask him how he had his aunt’s phone number, but he should have known better. He’d found him when he had thought he was being super careful on keeping his secret identity a.. well, a secret.

- - - -   Peter grinned as he put the finishing touches on his new web shooters. “I did it! I can’t believe I was able to make this all on my own-“

The canister exploded, covering him in webbing as he was flung back. He’d clenched his eyes and mouth closed, his senses screaming at him in time that he was able to spare them from being filled with the sticky webbing. When he opened them and glanced around, he realized he was stuck to the wall, arms and legs spread-eagle. Well, at least he could see, even if opening his eyes had been hard, but breathing was proving to be a bit difficult.

As he wondered how he was going to get out of this, the door opened with a swish and it was only cause he was already facing them that he saw them, since he was barely able to turn his head. Tony and a blonde haired teenage boy he didn’t recognize were standing there. He was super embarrassed, and also, he couldn’t breathe.

FRIDAY must have alerted Tony of this (he also couldn’t hear too well), because the man hurried over, grabbing a screwdriver on his desk to cut away the webbing covering his face. Now that he was closer he could kind of hear him. “Jesus, kid,” he grunted as he freed his nose and mouth, and Peter took in a gasping breath. “Is that better? Breathing okay?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. Peter tried to pull away from the wall, but realized he’d have to use his super strength to accomplish this, and he didn’t want to let this other boy know and possibly oust himself as Spider-Man. By then the other had reached Tony’s side, whom was taller than the man.

“Isn’t there like something to dissolve it?” he asked, eyebrows raised questionably. His dark blue eyes were almost like the deep waters of the ocean.

Peter shook his head when he realized he’d actually been seeing black spots. “Y-yeah, I think it’s in a jar in that drawer behind you.” The kid went to do that while Tony continued to cut away the webbing covering his face. His hands were shaking.

“Don’t scare me like that, Peter. I have a heart condition.”

The use of his name showed how shaken he’d been, and it was a scary thing. He’d been thrown against the wall, and that had punched out the air from his lungs. The webbing had been so thick that he couldn’t get any air in. So, Peter would have been in trouble if Tony and this other kid hadn’t come when they had.

By that time he’d managed to uncover his entire head and face, and the other had returned so he couldn’t say anything to his words. “Is this it?”

Peter had put it in a small spray can for easier administration, so it was easy for Tony to take it and spray it about three times and get him down. “The rest can dissolve in water.”

“You’ll have ta get in clothes an’ all,” the other teen said, and Peter now noticed his southern accent. It sounded nice, a real change from the usual New York accent, and Miles’s Brooklyn accent. He was wearing a black denim Harley Davidson jacket of some kind with a black hoodie under that, and some frayed blue jeans with some beat up sneakers.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he grumbled. There wasn’t enough dissolvent to get rid of all the webbing. He went to walk away and looked at him. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m Peter. P-Parker. Peter Parker,” he stuttered, feeling his face warming.

What a terrible first impression. This was almost as bad as the basketball covered in dog poop incident when he’d first met Miles. Peter just hoped this turned out alright in the end as well, and especially with him having a new friend.

“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker. I’m Harley Keener,” he said with a grin. “Hope we can become friends.”

“Sure!” he enthused, his voice breaking and making him flush even more. “I’m gonna,” he motioned toward the door.

As soon as Peter walked off, the blonde boy turned to Tony. “So, that’s the intern you’ve been raving about?”   Tony sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s my disaster kid,” he confirmed.

Harley nodded with a hum. “So, you didn’t tell me he was super cute.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Since he’s your kid, does that mean I’d be your son-in-law if I started dating him?”

Tony looked at him and then pointed at the door. “Get out of my lab.” Harley cackled and simply ignored him.

- - - -    When Peter came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, it was to a pile of clothes folded neatly on his bed. He didn’t have clothes in the room that Tony had dubbed as ‘his’, so they must have been Tony’s clothes. When he saw an old but well maintained MIT grey hoodie, he knew they had to be. It was warm when he pulled it over the slightly baggy shirt and pants.

If he purposefully kept it, well, Tony never asked for it back.-