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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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The Archer | Chapter IX: Safe and Sound (All is Found)

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: You and Kiri wander into the unknown in your search for the eldest Sully, whilst he's forced to come to terms with his own mortality and make a choice between a comfortable past and an uncertain future.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 10,5k words

Warnings/notes: angst (lots and lots of angst), mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, some fluff.

A/N: Surprise! This is not the last chapter of The Archer!!! I tried to finish it, I really did, but there was no way to do it justice in just one chapter, so I hope you will be happy to know I am working on the actual last chapter right now and that should hopefully come out on Monday. We're almost at the end and I am incredibly emotional thinking of this series finishing, and I hope you guys have enjoyed coming on this 200k word journey with me. I love you all so so much and thank you for reblogging, for replying, for commenting and following, you mean the world. Enjoy x

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

You had a miscarriage. You had a miscarriage. You had a miscarriage.

Even unconscious, the four words swam in your mind, unable to drown them out, their weight drowning you instead.

You had a miscarriage. You had a miscarriage. You had a miscarriage.

Neteyam knew then, clearer than ever, that something was wrong. This was all wrong. How was he in the forest? How were you here? How were you breathing this air? How were you so tall? When did they come back to the forest? Why was he always in between states of consciousness? What the hell was going on??

He pushed you off him and watched as you confusedly got up and try to shake off the nap with a wobble of your head.

“What the hell, Neteyam?”

His gaze hardened taking you in, taking whoever or whatever you were in, and he spoke angrily.

“Who the hell are you?”

“What do you mean who the hell am I? I’m me.”

“You can’t be you, because you’re human. You can’t be you because you’re as tall as a Na’vi girl and you’re breathing in our air. You haven’t been human in a long time. So who are you?”

He watched as you look at him intently, and your expression finally settled on a look of acknowledgement.

“Ah… you’re finally remembering.”

Neteyam battled a splitting headache as he tried to make sense of something that didn’t make any sort of sense in his mind.

“So, the memory of us in the marui, the morning of us waking up together, swimming, that is real?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you looked like you were thinking hard about your next words.

“I don’t know, Neteyam. It might have been real, it most likely was.”

“How can you be you and not remember? Stop fucking playing with me. I’m tired of this, I just want to know the truth.”

Your temper rose quickly, clear as day on your face, just like it always was - you’ve never been able to keep it at bay.

“I’m not playing with you, Neteyam! I can’t help you. I’m here for you, do you understand? You have to figure this out for yourself. I can’t say anything until you figure it out yourself.”

Neteyam sighed deeply, closing his eyes tightly and bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the headache that felt like would break him in two if it kept going. Think, Neteyam.

“Ok, then what can you tell me?”

“I’m here for you. It’s me. I’m just not… fuck. Not the me you know anymore.”

You looked scared as you pushed the last words out, and looked around you for something to happen, darting your eyes to the sky and to the forest enveloping you both. Almost as on command, he felt the world disintegrate around him and his vision dulled, and he knew he was going to sleep again. Your voice screamed at him as you were being pulled from his grasp once more. Don’t leave, don’t leave me again.

“Think of everything that’s happened since you arrived, play it all back. Think of your dreams. Just think, Neteyam. I’m here for you.”

You didn’t know how much time passed when you woke up, but you saw that it was light, so it was at least a few hours. The morphine drip was empty, as you were, and so the pain was back full force, reminding you what you had and what you lost. You had a miscarriage.

You had been pregnant. Your mind fluttered to the pills you kept by your and Neteyam’s mat, the pills you completely forgot about since the return to the tulkun, since the night Neteyam came in you, since you begged him to. The death of Roa and her calf took your attention away the next morning, and then all hell broke loose. You didn’t even know how long it had been since then. A week? A bit more? A week…

There are full years in people’s lives, decades in which life is dull, boring and uneventful. Unwavering truths and comfortable routines, you knew very little of. Your life was always a storm, always chaotic, always moving. Your life was adapt or die always and still, still, there were moments, unfrequent moments where even that chaos was subdued and middling - that was your peace. But then when chaos came, it was a tornado. It was a hurricane ready to tear everything in its path apart. There were no half measures in your life. No little disasters. Only death, only mass destruction, only loss so grave it burned everything good to ashes on the ground.

“Just fucking admit you don’t want to have my kids. You don’t want a family.”

“You know what? You are right. I don’t want a baby with you.”

You did this. You did it once more. You managed to ruin yet another thing in your life, like you couldn’t seem to be able to help yourself. Neteyam was in a coma because of you. Your dad was dead because of you. The baby you spitefully told Neteyam you didn’t want is gone, and you knew then even if Neteyam did come back, he would never forgive you for this. Because you put it out there, in the universe, in the wind, and Eywa heard you. And Eywa listened.

You forcefully removed all the needles in your body and made your way slowly, painfully towards your mate’s still body, and felt blood pouring from within you. Every step hurt so badly it was splitting you in half, and you remembered the pain of the virus slowly taking over your body, slowly eating you from the inside out and it felt like greeting an old, familiar friend. You said a silent thank you to whomever dressed you in thick loincloths that absorbed all the liquid spilling out, and sat down slowly next to Neteyam. You could hear voices from the outside of the marui, your family, whispering away, low voices almost like a hum, almost like a song.

“Neteyam…?” Crying came so easily to you recently it felt like second nature after all this time, so perpetual and constant, it felt like you spent more time doing it than not.

“I’m not trying to rush you or anything… but now would be a really good time for you to wake up. Just… just please wake up.”

“I’m sorry. I am so so sorry. I miss you so much, and I know you probably hate me, and I know you’ll probably hate me even more when you come back, and I am willing to accept it, I am willing to live my whole life earning your forgiveness, but I need you to be in it. I need you. Please, come back to me so I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

What was that?

A voice. Faint and echoed, barely there, but he heard it. Your voice. Your voice swimming in his subconscious, floating in his dormant mind, waking him up.

“I’m sorry. I am so so sorry…”

“…I know you probably hate me…”

“…I need you…”

Another dream enveloped him masterfully, tugging at him until he woke up, in the ship again - that damned ship. A dream he’s had before, a nightmare, horrid and anguished. He braced himself for the pain he already knew was coming, for the terror he’s had to live through so many times now he knew its every beat by heart. The humans. The Avatars. The guns - theirs and his. The noise as the bullets left, the way his mind stopped for a split second every time he heard someone go down because of him, because of his shots. The guilt eating at him, mixed with the anger and rage he felt for his planet, for these monsters, the fear for his siblings, for you, the sick hope that this could all be over soon. He felt it all, he lived it all - over and over and over. The sharp sting as a bullet pierced his body, in one way, out the other. The uneven stream of consciousness. Your body, his family’s bodies, sprawled all over him as he gave his last breath. He saw it all. He lived it all.

He lived it all. Not a dream. A memory.

A memory. His death was a memory.

You finally decided it was time to step into the light of the day outside your marui and face your family, although the thought of having to think about it, speak about it, watch them be sad about it close to made you pass out again. Regardless, you had to brave through it. You had to, because there was still a long road ahead. And you had a job to do now. You had to bury your dad, and then you had to go to the Spirit Tree. Everyone’s eyes shot up to your slow-moving figure as you approached them, a cocktail of emotions on their faces - from shock, to sadness, to curiosity and confusion, to grief, it was all the emotions you were feeling and didn’t want to anymore.

Lo’ak hurried to your side and took an arm and plopped it on his shoulders as one of his hands found yours, and the other your midriff, holding you in place.

“I got you, Angel.”

You smiled and looked at the side of his face and at the two beaded braids swinging with every step. “Thank you, brother.”

Multiple hands reached out to help you sit down, and you convulsed in pain as your body made contact with the floor.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Norm’s hand didn’t let you go, stretching your arm to look at it and tsk-ing at you annoyedly when he saw small purple marks where you yanked your IV needles out of your arms. The back of his hand then moved to your forehead, trying to gauge your temperature.

“Your fever’s down. How are you feeling?”

You were slightly shy at the small crowd of people staring at you, clinging to your every word. You wanted to lie, to say you were fine, but you didn’t have it in you to deceive these people anymore.

“I don’t know.” The tears that had stained your cheeks were long gone, but new ones weren’t far behind, as the weight of the past few days was slowly bearing down on you.

“In a few days, I lost a dad, a mate and a baby I didn’t even know I had. I don’t know how I am.”

You felt Neytiri’s arm on your back, slowly patting it up and down in an effort to console you. If anyone got what you went through, you imagined it’s her. Still, you felt so alone. More alone than you’ve ever felt in this life or the last. Even at your lowest, even that horrible whole 17th year, even that couldn’t compare. Nothing could compare to the catastrophic wave that crushed you like a tsunami and kept you there, unable to get up, unable to come up for air. You had so many people around you, so much family, and yet you’ve never felt more isolated.

Suddenly, you saw most of them get up and leave quietly, with only a slight tug of your shoulder or a kiss of your cheek or on the top of your head - all of them, except for Jake. He scooted over to where you were until his legs were parallel to yours and almost touching you. He looked at the water as he spoke.

“I thought you might want some peace and quiet.”

You nodded softly. “Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I know there are no words, no words that could ever make this better, but I want you to know I am sorry.”

“Yeah… me too.”

His gaze shifted to the marui, and you followed his gaze to Neteyam’s body, resting on his mat.

“I miss him so much, kid.”

“I think he’s going to hate me, if he ever comes back.” You couldn’t help the way your voice broke halfway through the sentence.

Jake’s head snapped to you again, a confounded look on his face.

“What are you saying, kid? Why would you say that? My son could never hate you.”

“He’ll hate me. I know he will.”

Jake said nothing as he waited for you to continue. You cried softly as you tried to calm your mind by focusing on the fish swimming peacefully by your feet.

“Before the ship, before Payakan, we got into a fight. A big fight, probably the biggest we’ve ever had. The message, the one on the tulkun… I knew what it meant. I lied to you, to all of you. It was a message from my dad to me. He told me to meet him and I did, I went by myself at night.”

You didn’t look at Jake as you spoke but you felt his whole body stiffen next to yours, and there was no more warmth radiating off of him. Your heart was racing in your chest as you registered the changes and how mad he probably was.

“That’s when I forgave him… kind of. There was still so much unresolved, so much him and I still had to talk about. But when I came back, Neteyam was waiting for me. He was really mad, just like you are now. He… accused me of conspiring with the enemies, of putting him and your family in danger. He poured out all of his frustrations with me, including the one that hurt him most: that he felt I didn’t want a family with him. That I didn’t want his babies. I was so mad, so angry at how quickly he jumped the gun, how he always held so much in until it always exploded in my face, so I just told him that he was right. And that I don’t. And now I lost his baby. I lost his baby because of what I said, and he’s going to think it too and he’s never going to forgive me for it.”

Silence fell in between you, heavy silence, so heavy you felt its weight bearing down on you and the cries turned to sobs, the only sounds that could be heard.

“You know, kid, me and my family didn’t have the best relationship. A lot like your dad, I took to the military to get away from them all. Unlike your dad, though, I was the asshole. I was reckless and impulsive, and felt the constant need to prove myself. My brother, Tommy, he was the smart one. So smart, top of the class his whole life, valedictorian, model student. Got his PhD at 20, got the opportunity of a lifetime to come study on Pandora. A good kid, too. The perfect son, the perfect brother. I couldn’t stand it. The better he did, the worse I did. The more I wanted to prove how unlike him I was, how I was going to make my own path in life.” He scoffed at himself, at the memories of the past.

“I did well, too. In the army. I was good. I gained independence and everything I ever wanted. But I pushed them all away. My mother, and father, and Tommy. I didn’t see them for years. When I lost my legs and had to be shipped back, I was all alone. My fault, my own doing. I knew it, all along, how wrong I was, that all these people ever did was love me - and Tommy’s biggest fault was being a kind and compassionate person, a good brother. When he died, I felt empty. The guilt came later, it came at night, on Pandora, as I felt like I got another chance at life, a life I literally took from him. It came when I got accepted into the Clan, when I fell in love with Neytiri. It comes now, when I see the rivalry between Lo’ak and Neteyam and I know I created it. I see it when I see that Lo’ak is just a carbon copy of myself and my mistakes, and the more I try to steer him away the more I turn him into me. And I see Tommy in Neteyam, every day.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, baby girl. There is so much you’ve had to endure, and no person in the world, much less Neteyam, would be surprised all the pain and stress took its toll on your body. You lost so much, and you gave so much to make sure Neteyam lived, how could he ever blame you? How could he ever hate you?”

“Throughout his whole life, both your lives, you have been Neteyam’s solace. His light, isn’t that what he calls you? I had to watch him lie to us and sneak out for years to come to you, no matter how much he inherited his distaste of humans from Neytiri, we still could never keep him away from that lab.” he chuckled to himself. “I had to watch him suffer for a year when he left, knowing there’s nothing I can do to help him - or you. I love my wife, I love her with my whole heart, more than I could love anything else, but the love you and Neteyam have, I’ve never seen anything like it as long as I have been alive. So I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“Wait… you knew about Neteyam sneaking out at night?”

Jake rose his eyebrow at you. “D’you think we’re stupid, kid? I mean it didn’t click from the get go, he had good excuses for a while, but after a few months, we realised he didn’t just have to… what did he used to say…?” He thought about it for a second. His eyes widened and finger wagged in the air as he remember. “Ah, yes! Release himself… for a few hours every night, ha! We were worried and we punished him the first few times we caught him, but it didn’t matter. So when we asked Norm and he told us he was there, safe in your room, we let it go. Did he never tell you?”

“No… he never told me.” He wanted to protect you, he didn’t want you to know he was being punished for sneaking out to see you.

“Wait… Norm knew too?” You groaned at the thought, your little bubble of privacy bursting suddenly.

“I know you like to think you’re the smartest person in the room, and you know what, kid? You are, but we’re not old, oblivious farts just yet.”

“Aw, pops. Never thought you were. Just thought we were being sneaky and getting away with it. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. The thing is, kid, neither you or Neteyam have ever really been children. And a lot of this is our fault… my fault. You were both forced to grow up much faster than you should have. You’ve both always known your own minds and hearts very well, and we knew quite soon you were inseparable. Keeping you two apart would have been as easy as parting mountains, so eventually we just let you be.”

You smiled a little at Jake’s confession, and sighed deeply as soon as you thought about Neteyam again. About the horrible circumstances that led to this conversation.

“What if I won’t be able to have children again? What if this was my only chance? Our only chance?”

He laughed a little and took you in his arms, and your head was now in his chest, crying quietly.

“I wouldn’t stress about that, kid. I think between the two of us, me and Neteyam will be able to coach our own football team soon.”

“Ew, gross.”

He laughed some more, a real dad laugh, and you did too, surprised that he somehow managed to elevate your mood.

Later, in the tent, the two middle siblings rejoined you as you were being checked by Norm and Max. You felt uncomfortable talking about this around so many people, your siblings, but you also wanted to be open, wanted to share in your pain and burdens, as you knew they wanted you to. You’ve kept to yourself your whole life, and this grief, the grief of losing Neteyam, of losing a baby that would have been their little niece or nephew, that you knew they would have adored and cared for every day of its life, you all had to suffer through together. So you allowed them to stay.

“How is the bleeding?”

“It’s manageable. Almost like a heavy period, I think?”

“That’s good. Let us know if it becomes worse, alright?” He eyed you intently. “Do you hear me, Ace? You can’t do what you always do, this is serious. You have to tell us.”

“I will tell you. I promise.”

“Good. Now, you have options. You can wait for it to pass naturally, or we can give you pills for it, but that will mean taking the helo back to the forest, we don’t have the pills with us.”

“I’ll wait.”

“…Alright. You will be bleeding for up to three weeks. Physical recovery from a miscarriage can take up to 2 months. That means no swimming, Ace.”

You shook your head.

“Ace…”

“Angel, you have to listen to them. You can’t put your health at risk anymore.”

“Zip it, Lo’ak. You of all people cannot give me a lecture on putting my health at risk.”

Kiri scoffed in Lo’ak direction, but turned to you, a stern look on her face.

“My stupid brother has a point. You have to stay here.”

“No, I have to bury my dad. And there’s one more thing I need to do. And then I’ll rest, I promise. No exercise for as long as you want, promise.”

“What else do you need to do?”

Your eyes flickered in between Lo’ak and Kiri, as well as the two scientists who all eyed you keenly. You wanted to tell them, wanted to so badly - deadly afraid of more secrets, more things to keep hidden deep in your soul until they burst out of you inevitably, leaving damage in their wake. But the thought of giving them false hope, the thought of seeing their spirit reborn as they hear Neteyam might be alright, might be within reach in Eywa, only to have it be taken away once more, killed you. It tortured you, it haunted you. You’ve spent your whole life having parts of your soul stripped away a piece at a time, so many years of being emptied out with every blow until you were a hollow shell of your former self - you were built for this. They weren’t. They had a life to live, a future to experience - endless adventures and happiness that you would make sure to protect and honour as much as you could. Because that’s what Neteyam did. Because that’s what siblings do.

At the same time, another thought, a worse thought gnawed at you - what if Neteyam was alright, what if you could bring him back, and you allowed his family to think of the worst, to assume their son, their sibling, their hero might never return to them? To make them stew in the pain that took so much from you, that gutted you and took your breath away, the pain that alleviated a little as soon as you chatted with Norm, it was cruel. It was winless fight, a lose-lose situation. But you knew if it was you, you’d want to know.

They deserve to know. They deserve the respect of being thought of as strong enough to handle themselves and the situations presented to them. They weren’t kids anymore. And they were never just any kids anyway. They were the kids of the Toruk Makto, of Palulukan Makto, of one of the greatest scientists that ever lived. They were Omatikaya kids, forced in fire. They had withstood wars and trials most people can’t even imagine. They were strong, and capable. You watched them grow up, you were there to watch them and love them, and now it was time to trust them.

“OK… Norm, can you stop that for a second? I need to talk to all of you.” Everyone was so focused on you, it was making you nervous. Thinking of Tsireya’s swimming lessons, you took a deep breath in and breathed out slowly, carefully, trying to imagine flickering a flame. You felt your heartbeat slow down in you chest and when it was normal again, you spoke.

“Before we were about to leave for my dad’s funeral, before… everything happened, Norm showed me something strange happening in Neteyam’s brain. A seizure.” Your eyes settled on Kiri. “A seizure like the one you went through at the Spirit Tree.” Kiri gasped slowly and took your arm, squeezing gently.

“That means…”

She’s always been quick, you thought proudly. “Yes. I think that Neteyam’s in Eywa. I think the seizures are visions… like the ones I got when I died. Now, I don’t want to raise your hopes up. I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t know anything. All I know is, it’s worth a try. So I will go and plug into the Spirit Tree after the funeral and try to find him and bring him back.”

“I want to come. I can help.”

You have to admit that you thought about it. You wanted Kiri to come with, her deep and unexplainable connection wit Eywa a possible advantage in your endeavour, but your mind flickered to her seizure, Max’s words ringing painfully in your ears. “If she seizes underwater again, it could kill her.”

Norm beat you to it. “Kiri, I don’t think you should plug into the Spirit Tree underwater anymore.”

“Look, I can do this.” She sighed, and looked at her fidgety fingers. “During the ship attack… I killed people.”

The same expression was mirrored in the faces all around you, deep concern and shock clearly visible in your eyes. “What?”

“I connected to some plants underwater and I… I used them to kill humans. I controlled them with my mind. Then I did it again when I was able to control glowing fish to find mum and Tuk in the ship. Something’s changed, guys. I can feel her, her power coursing through my veins. I can help. I can get us to Neteyam.”

Although taken aback, Kiri’s powers came with little surprise to you. You’ve guessed all along she had a bigger role to play than anyone could have ever foreseen, but to see her come into her own and discover them slowly, to watch it unfold, it was magical.

“A bleeding mess and a seizing mess, going together to revive our protective, loving, neurotic mess. How can this possibly go wrong?” You rolled your eyes, but were secretly happy you didn’t have to do this by yourself, that you had your sister to rely on.

Neteyam was gasping so loudly, panting violently as the memory faded. His eyes were unfocused and his lungs were on fire, and his hand shot to his chest at the pain that shot through him, feeling for a wound that wasn’t there, for blood that refused to spill. He patted himself and looked at his hand, and there was nothing. Nothing.

“You’re here for me.”

Neteyam’s whole body froze, eyes fixed on your own wide ones, just waiting to see the words that will come out of his mouth.

“I’m dead… I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Your eyes softened and then closed, taking a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly through your mouth. You nodded meekly. The tears that formed in your eyes only angered Neteyam, who felt his blood heating up in his veins until they bubbled, threatening to spill outside his body.

“I am dead and you have been toying with me, playing mind games and singing songs for Eywa knows how long?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Who even are you?”

You winced at his harsh words, the movement allowing for your tears to fall freely down you face.

“I couldn’t tell you, Neteyam. I’m not allowed to tell you. The last time I saw you, when you came to the Spirit Tree, I said too much and was immediately pushed out of your vision. Every time I said anything ever since you came back, you fell back into a liminal state of being and I was taken away.”

Neteyam’s head was spinning, world moving chaotically around him and he felt the need to sit, to ground himself to what he knew. He lowered his body next to the river bank, and allowed the water to rush over his calves, the murmuring sounds and rushing stream calming his nerves and heart. He didn’t look at you.

“Now that I remembered, can you just tell me?”

He heard your footsteps approaching behind him and you found a place on the floor next to him, one leg in the river while the other was bent at the knee, propped against his thigh. He saw your eyes tracing his side profile in his periphery and turned to face you, your beauty so overwhelming it made him ache. Seeing you with his memory intact, seeing you human for the first time in a year, your eyes and hair, your soft skin and beauty marks, your nose, your lips, it brought back feelings in him that he didn’t realise he even had. So much sadness for this you he’d lost, that he thought he’d lost forever, so much yearning to feel you, feel your much colder body, your more defined curves, your scent. So many memories of the girl he grew up with, so tiny and vulnerable, so fiery and wild, so sad and wise beyond her years, memories of the forest, his own upbringing, his own life. You were like a walking, talking reminder of the past, a past he loved, a past of joy, and love and adventures, of hope and childhood. A past long gone.

“Who are you? How is it possible that you are here? You are alive.”

You looked towards the river and sighed, thinking before you spoke.

“I’m me. I just don’t think I’m the same me as the one currently alive. I think when I did the consciousness transfer, a part of me, the human part of me, stayed behind. I’ve been here, in this forest, for a long time. I was so confused, for so long. I was just here, in this clearing, all alone.

And then one day, I got this dream. This horrible nightmare. I saw you, on a ship. I saw you fighting with Spider and Lo’ak, fighting humans and… blue men, like Avatars? I saw you getting shot. I saw you getting pulled to a rock. I saw you die, I saw myself losing everything in an instant.

Over time, I’d see glimpses. Of you, and your life. Of me. I saw the love, and the fights. I saw the late night ikran rides, and the passion so wild it could light the whole forest on fire. I saw your frustrations, and my own, grow in size. I saw us leaving, I saw us dreaming - for a future, a better one. One where we’d get to be free.

And then one day… you came. And I was so happy to see you again. And so scared. But I knew then that that’s why I’m here. That’s my purpose. My purpose here is you. I am here to be your light. To guide you. I just don’t know if I’m supposed to be guiding you back home or in the afterlife.”

Neteyam’s skin was littered with goosebumps at your words, at their implication, at knowing even in his afterlife, it was just you and him. You were his light, since the moment you were born and for the rest of eternity. He turned to fully face you, his pose mirroring your own now, and he took your face gently in both his hands, and wiped the tears from your warm cheeks with his thumbs. His face lowered to yours and your foreheads touched, the proximity almost unbearable in the feelings it invoked in him. He breathed you in and noted how unlike your Avatar body, you still smelled like the snapshots of the lab and of human concoctions you called perfume, sweet and mellow, and so, so familiar. You stood like that, motionless in this moment he didn’t want to ever end. If this was death, he was happy to oblige it, happy to indulge in it for the rest of time.

“I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you’re here, that just like we talked about when we were 8, this is our heaven. That we can be in here together.”

“Neteyam… you can still go back. You can still choose to live.”

Neteyam removed his forehead from yours and looked at your eyes, sad and willing him to listen, to hear you out. Your hand wrapped around his wrist and you started caressing up and down his forearm in a consoling motion.

“What?”

“I had a choice. And so do you. I was so scared when I first saw you, but so relieved at the same time. I have been alone for so long, and you are the only one, the only one I ever wanted to see again. But I knew that if I were to ever see you again, that would mean my dream came true. And that scared me. That terrified me more than anything else. And if not seeing you again, being alone for all eternity was what it took for you to live, then I was happy with that. So I warned you, the best I could, but I was pulled out of the vision, and so were you. I realised then there are rules to this.

You have a choice to make, Neteyam, just like I did. No one can change that, no one can alter it. It has to come from you. You had to be able to remember you died, to remember what brought you here if you were to make that choice, and I couldn’t help you get there. Eywa doesn’t take sides.”

Neteyam was brought to a standstill. It was overwhelming, everything happening to him, everything he was going through and his mind finally remembered you, the real you, and his family that he left behind when he died. He felt so sick, so selfish having it just dawned on him that this didn’t just concern him. And although he had you, even in this life, you - the real you didn’t have him anymore. His parents, his siblings - they didn’t have him anymore.

“Can you see…? You said you get glimpses… of my life, of your life. Please tell me you’re ok. Please tell me my family is ok.”

You looked sad, so sad. Your lips pursed in a tight line and you shook your head slowly.

“Were you ok when I died?”

The immediate pain that he always felt as soon as he remembers the moment you gave your last breath in that lab, the power it still held over him even so long after, even whilst holding you taut against his body and feeling your strong heartbeat and looking into your eyes, that shimmered like the night sky, almost knocked him straight to the ground in agony.

“I had a choice. And so do you.” A choice. A choice between life and death. Between the future and the past. Between the ocean and the forest. Between his kids that he’s always dreamt of having, and the possibility of you never wanting your own. The choice between a happy afterlife or a scary, death-filled future.

“Did you know? When it happened to you?”

“Yes… I did.”

“You said you saw auntie Jo when you died. You said you saw Earth, and her old house. Why am I here?”

You smiled warmly up at him, tears making a temporary home in the two dimples on the side of your mouth.

“I think we go where we most want to go. I think we see what we longed for the most in life. The closer I got to dying, the more I needed my mum. I wanted to see her again, I wanted to see what her life was like, before me, before all of this. There was so much trauma I had because of her death, and it was the thing that my soul yearned for the most, I think. Just one last chance to hear her voice. For you… it’s this forest. What you wanted the most was to go home. And you wanted a family. You got to see the family we would have had that you envisioned when I was still human. Back before the Sky People returned, back before everything became complicated and messy. Back in the past, where our biggest concern was that we loved each other too much - too much for a human and a Na’vi.”

Neteyam thought long and hard about the situation he faced - that he found himself in. This choice, it was tugging at his heart painfully, it was tearing him apart. He thought it would be simple. It should be simple. Life or death, right? It’s as simple as it gets. Except death had everything he’s ever wanted and none of the things he didn’t want, none of the insecurities, and the pain and the fear, none of the uncertainty or the fights, none of the terror of thinking he might lose his family, he might lose you. None of the responsibilities, none of forsaken dreams, none of the forgotten plans. Death had you, the you he fell in love with, the you that he grew up with, the you that was ever-present in most of his most precious memories. Death had the kids, his kids, his perfect kids and the forest. It had this clearing, and happiness, and joy. It had peace.

He didn’t realise he was hyperventilating, tears blurring his vision until he felt your hand on his chest, over his heart, your touch bringing him much needed solace.

“Why is this so hard? Why does my heart hurt so badly?”

“I think it’s hard because you know deep in your heart what you want. You know what you want to do, and thinking about the consequences hurts you. But you have to say it, Neteyam. You have to acknowledge it.”

He didn’t think he could say it, could bring himself to admit it out loud. But he had to. He owed himself that, and the people waiting for him to come back.

“I don’t know if I want to go back.”

Right before eclipse, Jake and Neytiri returned to your tent, and with a deep sigh, you adjusted your clothes you have been wearing since before you passed out, and felt ready to finally do this.

“It’s time, baby girl.”

You nodded softly and felt grateful for your family, which was surrounding you on all sides, holding your hands and shoulders, making sure you knew and felt their presence and their support - both of which you needed desperately, especially now. You all got on ilu and started making your way in silence towards the Cove of the Ancestors. It would be your first time seeing it; you tried to suppress the wince that was threatening to escape you at the memory of the fight that ensued after you chose spending time with Lo’ak over coming to this place the first time, with your mate. What you wouldn’t give for those fights now, for any opportunity to see him and hear his voice ring in your ears.

As you entered underneath a few columns, you were speechless at the beauty, the indescribable beauty displayed for your eyes to see. Floating islands, and zenith arches stood tall and mighty as the underwater nature illuminated the cove brightly in kaleidoscopic hues. It was breathtaking, it was beyond your wildest dreams. Neteyam was right to be upset. You would have given anything to see this with him, and hated yourself a little at denying you both this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

The whole of the Metkayina clan was waiting for you, solemn and dignified, dressed in mournful garbs and intricate jewellery adorning their beautiful cyan bodies. Your dad was placed in a floating enclosure, filled with sea water and flowers, and emotion bubbled in your chest at his sight. Ronal, Tonowari and their two children looked at you and your family, and you greeted them in the Na’vi way, trying to pour every ounce of gratitude seeded in your soul to them, for the way they took your dad in, for the way they were offering him eternity in Eywa. I see you.

You took him and moved him slowly away from the crowd from the back of your ilu, and you made your way to the place you knew you would have to give him to the sea forever. His new forever home, where he could finally be free - free of burden, free of guilt, free of the world that took so much from him. Once you reached, you dismounted and saw with slight surprise as Jake did the same. You put your hands on your dad and he put his hands on yours, squeezing them gently.

“I got you, kid.”

You let out a soft sob at the gesture, feeling an outpouring of love for this man who was the only father figure you’ve ever known, the only father you had left, who stepped in at a time you were close to falling apart and helped you heal, and helped you where no one else could. With a small nod and a deep breath in, you submerged and slowly took your dad with you, to the seabed covered in yellow anemone. With one last goodbye and tears that got lost in the water all around you, you let him go, and watched as he was slowly engulfed in them, where he will rest for now, where he will rest for life.

Goodbye, dad. We’ll meet each other again, one day, and then, we’ll be able to finally be a family.

Gideon woke up in a bed, a bed he didn’t recognise initially. It had been so long since he’s been in this room, in this place. The realisation came from all around him, from the sound of songs he’s heard a million times before playing softly in the background, from the smell of a specific type of laundry detergent his nose was incredibly familiar with, from the cracks in the ceiling that Gideon memorised by heart in time.

“Up and at ‘em, sleepy head.”

The pressure of a small body tucked against him finally registered in his mind, and the voice brought clarity to everything, to his whole life and his whole existence. His eyes dropped to the ones already looking at him, playful and curious, and oh, oh so beautiful. The shock shot through his whole body, electrifying every inch of him, every part of his brain, waking him up like from a death sleep and into a weightless consciousness, fully alert to her, and only her.

“Marj?”

“I can’t believe you’re here. I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I don’t understand, Jo. Is this heaven?”

“It is now. Welcome home, my love.”

Once the funeral was over, the Metkayina slowly started making their way back to their village, as did your family.

“Will you be ok, kid?”

“Yes. I just want to see something at the Tree of Souls, if that’s ok.”

You looked fixedly at Lo’ak and Kiri, who nodded slowly, and you knew the plan was in motion.

“Ok, we will go back. We will see you back home. Don’t stay out late, you shouldn’t be swimming anyhow.”

“Will do. I’ll have Kiri and Lo’ak to keep me safe, just in case.”

Jake looked pointedly at Lo’ak. “Keep her safe. Safe. Do you understand?”

“Lima Charlie.”

The Metkayina Spirit Tree was a sight to behold, and even despite the pain and hurt, you were in awe of its majestic beauty. It was unlike anything you have ever seen before, and you were saddened at the thought your dad never got to see it. Your mum never got to see it. You think they would have loved it, revelled in it as much as you were, as much as you knew Neteyam did. You swam down until you reached one of the many leaves glowing brightly around you, and with a last look at Lo’ak, who was waiting for you on the surface, you held Kiri’s hand as you brought your queue forward.

“Remember. Think of him, as hard as you can. Think of where he could be.” Kiri signed to you before always reaching for her queue and, when you nodded, you both connected to the same leaf, almost overlapping each other. Air flooded your lungs, giving you breath as if from an oxygen pack, and as your eyes closed, you felt your soul transported through planes of existence, to the one you’ve been before, to the one Neteyam was. You knew where he’d be, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d find him in your clearing, in the forest, where you both said you’d spend the rest of eternity when eternity came and knocked on your door.

Sure enough, the sounds and smells and sights of the Omatikaya forest came sharply into focus, and your heart boomed in your chest taking it all in, taking home in. You knew where you were, not quite in the clearing yet, but close. Kiri’s hand tightened in yours as she joined you, and you saw her looking around, adjusting to the new environment.

“We’re… back home.”

You smiled and nodded. “This is where Neteyam and I decided our heaven would be when we were 8 years old. This is where we knew we’d always be, arrested in time, just him and I, together forever. We knew, even back then.” You pointed in the direction you needed to go. “It’s just beyond these trees.”

You let go of her hand and went in front of her, leading the way. As you stepped into the meadow, you were blinded by the rays of sun which blessed it and by your own tears at this place that meant so much, that you never thought you’d see again before your death.

You let out a loud gasp when your vision cleared and in it stood Neteyam, eyes closed as he was sprawled on the ground, a look of peaceful meditation on his face. You ran panting until you reached him, kneeling by his body and grabbing his face in both your hands, having to fight the urge to shake him wildly, shake him awake, shake him alive again. You tried to calm your breath and your heartbeat to no avail, no Metkayina trick in the book able to help you this time, not when you were right, not when he was here, not when you were one step closer to getting him back. You faintly heard Kiri crying softly, sounds muffled by your own mind blocking anything out that wasn’t him.

“Neteyam…?” You caressed his face gently, allowing your fingers to wonder all over it, feeling the sharp angle of his jaw, the soft swell of his lips, his eyelashes, the defined curve of his cheekbones. You touched his braids, those wild braids that mesmerised you, their liveliness and swing always putting you in a hypnotic trance, focusing your world on him and only him. You touched his ears, that twitched slightly under your touch and your eyebrows shot up in wonder and the movement, the only movement you’ve seen in him for days.

“Neteyam… please wake up. I’m here, we’re here. We’re here to take you home. Please.”

His eyes fluttered open and with it so did your chest and it felt like your ribcage was split apart in two and the animal that was trapped in it, thrashing and screaming, kicking at the bars, desperate for release, flew away, leaving you a sobbing mess on his chest, gripping onto him like it was the first time you have ever seen him, like he was your heart’s most sought after desire and any hesitation on your part would mean losing him forever. He was, he always has been - your most sought after desire, your reason for existing.

Your voice brought him out of another dream, memories of the past fluttering past his mind’s eye and settling on nights in the forest, swimming in the pond, running his fingers through your hair, kissing you until he ran out of breath, claiming your body until you were both so spent you didn’t know how you’d make it back home in the morning. He heard you sharing your deepest fantasies and secrets while you patiently redid his braids, spilling promises of love forever, of adoration and gratitude, for each moment you got to be in each other’s embrace, for every night you got to make up for the ones you lost; anecdotes about your time apart and how much you missed each other after all. Recalling times and feelings and musing at how despite how everything’s changed around you - you two haven’t, not to each other, not in any way that matters. You were still each other’s homes, just like you have been since the moment you were born.

His mind quieted when his eyes took you in, not the you he expected to see at all, but a blue you, beautifully striped, and kneeling next to him, face buried in his chest. He shifted his gaze somewhere behind you, and another shock rocked his system at the sight of his baby sister, crying silently, hand covering her mouth to stop the sounds threatening to spill out. His arms wrapped tightly around you and his hands caressed your hair gently and he couldn’t believe the relief that washed over him as you scent overwhelmed him, as your presence drowned everything else in this world but you. You found him. He realised then you were there to guide him home. No matter what path he would choose, stay here or go back, one of you would be there to lead the way, to show him the light - to be the light.

“Hi.”

Your eyes shot up to his face, wide and puffy, red and saturated in tears and his thumb settled over your quivering lips, stuck in this moment with you, trapped in the unmatched beauty of your gaze, by all the love and pain clearly on the surface, by everything else hidden in its depths.

“Hi! Hi, hi, hi! Oh my God, hi! I found you. I really found you.”

Your hands made their way around his neck and your face found its place on a part of his body that felt like it was carved for that purpose alone. This way, he was able to focus on the form staring at you two, sitting on the far side of the clearing, away from view. Neteyam heard his sister’s breath get knocked out of her lungs and when she found her voice, a small squeal came out.

“Um, ok…this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.”

“Ouch, Kiri. None taken.”

Neteyam felt you stiffen in his arms, as the voice speaking registered in your ears. You removed your body from him and looked at him with deep fear displayed clearly on your features. Your raised eyebrows dropped a little as he gave you a small smile, tightening his grip on your forearm.

“I think there’s someone you should meet.”

With shallow breaths and widened eyes, you turned around and wrapped your hand around your mate and squeezed as you assimilated the image unfolding in front of your eyes. It was… you. Your mind flashed to the day you first saw your Avatar body, and how weird it felt, seeing yourself like that, almost like an out-of-body experience. The memory shifted to seeing yourself as a weak, meek human after the consciousness transfer, the first time in your life seeing your human body from outside itself, thinking about how few humans, how few beings are able to ever experience this feeling, this insane, supernatural occurrence. Your mind finally settled on the present, at the girl you knew too well, the body you hated for so long, the body you missed as you had to let it go and were disappointed you couldn’t meet her warm smile with anything other than a grimace.

“How…?”

You got up and made your way carefully to her… to you… until you were face to face. She looked so different to what you always thought you looked like when you inhabited this body. She was… more beautiful than you ever thought. What made her… you… beautiful was the spark in your eye as they fixated on something you found interesting - in this particular case, your new blue body -, the way your nose crinkled a little while you smiled, the way two dimples formed in your cheeks that were rosy and full and…alive. Your curiosity got the better of you and almost involuntarily, you raised a hand and poked the human version of yourself staring at you with a finger.

“How are you here?”

She chuckled a little. “Let’s just say I’m your ghost of Christmas Past.”

The human you smiled at your confused guise. She playfully slapped your hand away and bend her head a little to look past you, at Neteyam.

“I can be a bit annoying sometimes, can’t I?”

“Hey!”

There was laughter all around you as both Neteyam and Kiri found human you a tad funnier at the moment than you would have liked.

“And I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, can’t I?”

Neteyam’s body immediately resolved any annoyance building up in you as he got close to you, and the way his proximity made you feel, the way you got to feel it - feel him - again, was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t believe he was here. Couldn’t believe he was awake, and alive, and touching you like he did, in the way he did that drove you crazy, that sent shivers down every inch of your being. You couldn’t believe you got to feel this way again, couldn’t believe you’d have a lifetime to make up for all the mistakes you made, to make up for the time you were forced apart yet again.

“You’re my pain in the ass.” You turned around to face him, eyebrow raised and he groaned lowly.

“I had a choice. And so do you.” A choice. A choice between seeing his siblings grow up and being there to love them and guide them or only glimpses of the future. A choice between growing old with you, getting to love you and evolve together, as you have all your life or clinging to the past. A choice between seeing his parents be grandparents, pass on their knowledge and experience or never seeing them again. A choice between claiming back his home, fighting for his people or cowering in a fantasy for the rest of time. A choice between seeing what his real kids, your real kids would look like, who they would grow up to be, and being there to witness every single day or glimpses of his past desires manifested like a storybook. A choice between life or death. Between the future or the past. As he looked into your amber eyes, soft and glimmering like the night sky, he knew there was only one answer.

He kissed you, with all his might, and felt light pour out of every corner of his being at the contact. You. The real you. The only you. He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been, blinded by his fears and insecurities, blinded by the incertitude of a unknown future, desperate to cling to a version of his world that was comfortable and familiar, a version of a life he’d dreamt when he was just a boy. He loved you so much, every part of you, every side of you, every body you inhabited because it didn’t matter if you were human or Na’vi, as long as he got to brave the world with you next to him.

“Let’s go home, Atan.”

Your cries filled the forest, happy tears sliding over his fingers as he held your face tightly in his hands. You couldn’t help the sobs that escaped you, couldn’t help the way you clung onto him like you would never ever let him go again. You didn’t think you would. You knew your fingers must hurt his arms with how hard you were digging into them, but you couldn’t care, not when the thought of letting go ripped apart your insides like an angry rabid animal.

“Neteyam… Neteyam…”

“Come on. I want to hold you in my arms for real, I want to see your face back home. Let’s go, Atan.”

He continued to caress your cheeks to remove the tears that wouldn’t stop, and when he realised you didn’t want to budge, he eventually pulled you into a hug that you both needed, that you needed more than life itself. You stood like that until your legs hurt, and when you fell slowly to the ground, he followed, not breaking the embrace - not for anything in this world or the next, not for any world. You sat on the ground, legs intertwined, flush against his chest until the forest started to slowly fade away from view.

“It’s time to go.” You heard Kiri’s calm, deep voice suppressed by the sound of your cries and shallow breaths.

You removed your head form his chest and pulled his face down to look at it.

“I’ll see you at home? In the marui? I’ll just come and you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there. I promise. You will never get rid of me again. Deal?”

A half-sob, half-laugh made its way of your mouth, but you exhaled a sigh of relief as you spoke. “Deal, yawne.”

Neteyam felt anguished as he turned around to face your human astral projection, but as his fingers wrapped tightly around your own striped ones, he knew that the past is nothing compared to all he has to look forward to with you by his side. More and more of the world was slowly fading from view, and Neteyam knew it was time to say goodbye - forever, this time.

“What will happen to you now?”

“I’m not sure. Now I have guided you, I don’t know what my purpose is.”

“I will miss you so much.”

“I will miss you, too. So much, you will never be able to know. But I still have you, I can still see you, in glimpses of the world you live in. And you still have me.” You nodded in the direction of your Avatar body. “A little bluer, a little taller, but definitely an improved version of myself.”

“And one day, hopefully a really, really long time from now, you will see me again. Neteyam, I have always been your light, but you have always been my rock. You have always been what has grounded me, kept me going. And I know real life is not as beautiful, or whimsical, or perfect as this world right here. But it’s real. And in it, I will continue to be your light, and you will continue to be her…my rock. And whatever else comes, we’ll always brave it together. Just like we have all of our lives.”

Neteyam watched as you turned your attention to the other you, the real you.

“I know you are scared. You are so scared it hurts, it keeps you up at night. But don’t be so scared of the world you forget to live in it, you forget to revel in it. That you forget what really matters. There’s always going to be reasons to say no, always going to be reasons to push back, to postpone, and the truth is no moment will ever be perfect, but this world… it takes so much, it takes so fast, and when it does, what would you want to remember of it? What would you want to flash before your eyes before you go? I know what it is, because I am you. So just do it. Let yourself be vulnerable, once in your life. And see what comes of it.”

You both looked at each other, looked at yourselves, so different but yet the same, a mirror to the past and the present, of what you’ve been through and what you managed to accomplish, who you managed to become. You closed the gap and wrapped each other in a hug. A bear hug, a hug you both needed.

“Thank you. For keeping the past in here, for taking it so I can keep going. Thank you for everything, for guiding him home. For bringing him back to me.”

“I’m proud of you. Mum would be proud of you.”

You let go, tears swimming in your eyes, and with a small smile, Neteyam watched you turn around and make your way towards the light, your own light.

Your hand found Neteyam’s and your amber eyes found each other, and you couldn’t believe it still - that he was here, that he was still here, still yours. You had so much to say, so much to talk to him about, so much to apologise for, but you couldn’t, as your thoughts and words were interrupted by a scene unfolding in front of you. You followed two figures, ethereal and beautiful, emanating glow and light all around them, appear in front of human you, of past you. You inhaled loudly when the realisation hit, the stunned realisation that those were your parents. Your mum and dad, holding hands and smiling widely towards you.

“We’re here for you, my child. We can go home. We can finally be a family. I missed you so much, bunny.”

Tears were falling freely down your face, seeing a vision you have dreamt about your whole life, you have wished for in your deepest fantasies, in all your best, most out-of-reach dreams, and you felt at peace, for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time in your life, knowing that Heaven was real, and in it, so was your family.

Come, my darling, homeward bound

When all is lost, then all is found

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja @lovekeeho @trixscarlett

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itwasthereaminuteago · 2 years ago

Text

|| Part of Me ||

Symbiote!Matt Murdock x female reader

Tags/warnings: oh gosh where do we start? 😅 Oral sex (f rec), sort of non-con tentacle insertion at first quickly changing to 'yes please I am fully onboard for some consentacle porn', unprotected sex (p in v), assplay (m and f), slight choking, human and alien body fluids I guess, improv cock ring, and FLUFF (yes actually!).

A/n: thank you to the mutuals who enabled this 😉 and the post I saw from @thora-jane that inspired me in the first place (huge apologies if it's not really your thing let me know and I'll untag 🫢)

If anyone likes this I might try a more angsty exploration into the deeper moral issues that arise from being a crime fighting vigilante lawyer with an alien inside that just wants to rip heads off and eat them (thanks @spiderbabey for the inspo for that!)

After a brief chase through the dark city streets The Devil has the mugger pinned underneath him, baton poised above the guy's head, the silver of it glinting in the streetlight, his muscles straining hard with the effort of holding it back. He had heard the commotion, the threats, the gun being drawn and was on the scene in a flash of red. The guy saw the suit, the horns, and ran. As he tore off after him Matt could sense that the victim was shaken but otherwise unharmed but if he hadn't acted so fast…

KILL 'IM

"No!"

BAD MAN

"Yeah, I know. Very bad man," Matt grits his teeth together trying to keep the other voice at bay as he draws a hard breath.

KILL HIM

"No, No killing! I told you." Matt snaps.

HUNGRY

The deep growl has a sharp metallic edge to it that shocks right through Matt's veins. He can feel the power of it bubbling through him and it's taking everything to keep it inside and contained.

The devil had truly been let out. He could use it as an excuse for the things he did at night but the honest truth was that he wanted to do those things, he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Since he'd been infected with this thing he was even faster and stronger than before, better equipped to protect the Kitchen… but it came with a price.

MAKE HIM SUFFER

The voice over his shoulder hissed as the perpetrator stared up at Matt, the smell of fear wafting off him.

DELICIOUS…

"We're taking him to the police and that's the end of it."

Matt dragged the man to his feet and dumped him at the station. As he jumped up the fire escape onto the roof of the next building the symbiote twitched under his skin.

YOU CAN'T HOLD ME BACK FOREVER MATTHEW

He ignored it but he knew he was in for yet another restless night.

And that wasn't all.

There was you.

It had been the worst possible timing. You had started seeing each other about a month before it happened, and he was on edge around you the entire time. You had put it down to nerves and stress at work, trying your best to get Matt to relax and not worry, to assure him that you loved spending time with him and he could just be himself.

PRETTY

"Fuck, no, don't ruin this for me…please."

"Uh, hey Matt, you alright?"

He tries his best to keep it together. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine, it's just this case… "

"A tricky one huh?" You ask him.

"Mmm, a total pain in the ass, you could say."

"Do you need to work late? Because it's okay if you do, we can rearrange dinner for another time?"

He'd let you take the lead, you had been the one inviting him up to your apartment after you had dinner together and on both occasions he'd politely declined, half of him not wanting to rush this and the other half terrified of what his alien side might do.

WE LIKE HER

Yes, of course he liked you, you were funny and smart and understanding. So much more than most.

However, this time after you had finished your meal and he had walked you home, you wouldn't take no for an answer. You knew he was probably just being polite, knew he really wanted to take things further but had something on his mind. You were so patient and open with him, encouraging him to talk about it if he wanted, to express his concerns. You didn't want him to do something he'd regret.

"I just, don't want to hurt you…" he'd explained, and that was the truth. He'd quickly fallen in love with you and the way you were giving him all the time and space he could need was just causing him to fall even deeper.

"You won't hurt me Matt, I know you won't." You'd said so sweetly as you pressed him up against your door, your lips falling on his.

The alien had been uncharacteristically quiet of late but he wasn't taking any chances when you pulled him into your apartment. He wanted to damage control as far as possible, there was no way he wanted to scare you away.

"I know it might sound strange with me uh, not being able to see but… is it okay if we keep the lights off?"

You smiled so warmly. "Of course, I want us to be comfortable."

God you were perfect. He couldn't fuck this up. He wouldn't.

"Oh, oh that feels sooo good, oh holy shit Matt, it's like your hands are all over me…"

Fuck.

You had your eyes softly closed, that much he could tell and was grateful for. Inky black tendrils were webbing across your naked skin and caressing your breasts as his own fingers were still woven in your hair and holding onto your waist as he kissed you, but he couldn't stop it.

SOFT

The dark voice within him rumbles with interest.

WE WANT TO TASTE HER

For once Matt found himself agreeing with his symbiote.

"Sweetheart," he says to you, kissing his way slowly down the side of your neck and down your chest and stomach. "would you let me do something for you?"

You gasp in anticipation, knowing exactly what he's about to ask as he gently nudges your thighs wider. "Yes, yes Matty please…"

You don't see, only feel the two long black shining tentacles that lash their way around your thighs, with two others branching out and teasing up and down your pussy lips, spreading them open and putting you perfectly on display for him. You take a sudden sharp inhale of air and Matt freezes. "Are you alright? I can stop…" that wasn't exactly the truth, he didn't know if he could.

"No, no no please don't stop! I just… it feels so different, I- don't know how you're doing what you're doing, but god, don't stop…"

Matt hums before he kisses the soft inner skin of each thigh, then slips out his tongue, dragging it slowly up the center of you, flicking it up over your clit. The sound you make has his dick throbbing.

He laps you up, his hands skimming up over your hips to hold you firm to his mouth as he takes his time taking you apart. He hears you whimper and twitch under him, and only then is he aware of the thick, probing, wet tentacle that's pushing its way into your pussy.

"Mm!"

"Oh fuck!" Matt curses, he can feel the sensation of you squeezing him through the symbiote. It's like nothing he had ever experienced before. You moan long and hard as you're filled, Matt's tongue still licking and sucking you towards ecstasy.

SHE LIKES IT

He can't usually control what the alien does, can only hold it back so much, but now he finds the control has been shared with him, the room quickly filling with slick sounds as he moves this extension of him within you, drawing out your addictive little moans.

He stops when he senses you looking at him. Actually looking. With your eyes.

He wants to die.

"Oh, Matt…" you sit up as he gently pulls away from you, the symbiote retracting slowly and carefully back under his skin with a grumble that only he can hear.

"Is this what you were afraid of, why you've been acting so strange?"

"I, god I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I'll go-" he feels around for his pants but you crawl across the bed and grab his arm stopping him from running away.

"Matt, please don't leave! Just tell me, is… is this thing a part of you?"

Matt sighs, hanging his head. "It's... still all so new but… yeah. I don't really know how it works yet." His head tilts adorably as he considers something.

"Why aren't you running a mile? Aren't you scared, or mad that I kept this from you?"

You only smile and pull him closer. "I'm only sad that you felt you had to keep it from me. If it's part of you, that's okay. I want all of you, Matt, if you still want me…"

He can't believe what you're saying, how could you possibly be any more perfect? He licks his lips, nodding. "Of course I do."

"Come here," you beckon, lying back on your bed. "We'll figure this out together, but only if you finish what you started. I don't know how good those other senses of yours are but… I liked it."

You trail your fingers up his side, his breathing shallow as everything you're saying sinks in.

"Touch me with them, Matt… please." Your voice is coloured with excitement and need and who is he to refuse you. His brows almost reach up to his hairline and the smile on his lips is as wide as his face when you reach for him. A soft gasp leaves you when his other side makes a gradual reappearance, the webbed, black tendrils snaking up your skin and coiling around your breasts. You sigh softly when one slides inside you again.

Rippling contractions pass down through the length of the tentacle, massaging you from within and making you mewl out with pleasure. Matt's breath wavers as you watch as another one wraps around his own cock and does the same, slowly squeezing and milking drops of precum onto the sheets.

The sensation of warm slithering and throbbing rolls over your clit at the same time Matt is desperately licking into your mouth, there's so much stimulation your brain is starting to melt. Slick wet sounds as the tentacle fucks in and out of you fill the room, and you feel your pussy walls start to flutter and contract. "Ohh, m'gonna cum-!" You moan as your body writhes and rolls against him. Matt takes it all in, he can feel the tight squeezing of your perfect cunt, the pounding of your heart, hear the sweet sounds you make as your orgasm rolls through you.

"You're so beautiful…"

He slows and gently pulls back letting you come back down. "Are you okay sweetie?"

You almost laugh, your body alight with desire. "Jesus Matt, yes!"

"If you want to stop-"

"Mm, no don't stop, let me feel you." you breathe, and tentacles are quick to wrap around your body, drawing Matt closer, bracing himself over you.

"You got any more of those?" You tease, arching into his touch while other thick strands of shiny black emerge and wrap around your legs pulling them open again. He moans against your parted lips, the coil that's around his hard cock nudging the head of it at your entrance, coating himself in your arousal. The tip of your tongue gently slides against his as he pushes inside, just the barest whisper of pain as he stretches you open.

SWEET GIRL, SO GOOD FOR US

Matt makes a quiet noise in agreement as he starts to grind his hips at your insistence. You feel like nothing else and he wants to make this good for you. You respond to every little touch of him and the symbiote, purring like a kitten when your nipples are pinched and tugged by the prehensile serpent-like appendages. The steady, slow drag of his cock in and out has you murmuring his name like a prayer while he shows just how much he adores you with his mouth, the warm brush of his lips caressing your sensitive skin and setting off goosebumps all across it.

YES

The voice at the back of his brain is greedy, but it soon becomes clear it's just echoing your own desires to him. He feels more tendrils slipping their way up to wrap around your throat and slither between your legs, hearing the needy, desperate panting from you when one of them brushes lightly against your ass.

"Uhuh! Please, yes Matty… please"

You beg him until the blunt, self lubricating tip of it breaches you gently. It's small and slender at first allowing you to get used to the intrusion, but then there's nothing but pleasure as it swells bigger making you feel stuffed full, pulsing every time Matt thrusts his cock deep in your pussy.

He groans as another tendril that's not under his control splits off, penetrating his own ass and throbbing against his prostate, while yet another curls tightly around the base of his sensitive cock to stop him from cumming right there and then.

"Fuck… fuck!" He whines at the intensity of all this feeling, connected to you in a way he could never have dreamed of.

You're so very near to falling apart, being thoroughly fucked from every possible angle, your eyes are rolling back and muffled moans escape from around the thick black tentacle that lays heavy against your tongue as you suck on it.

The creature inside him is suspiciously silent, seemingly content feeding from your throes of passion for now. But then it speaks again, a hungry voice full of sharp teeth and carnal want.

HARDER

SHE CAN TAKE IT

Matt tries in vain to shake the lustful haze from his mind. "Sweetie, tell me what you need…" he asks you, his voice strained and tight.

"M'so close Matt," you cry, "please, please harder… make me cum!"

He lets loose, giving you what you need, making you moan so prettily as his hips piston hard, skin slapping against the backs of your thighs. The improvised cock ring finally releases him, coiling lower to tug and pull on his balls and he ruts even harder chasing his own end. A slick combination of your own juices and those from the symbiote leaks over your bodies as they slip and slide against each other, only increasing the multitudes of sensation thrumming through you as the tentacles fuck, fill, tease and choke you. Your cries rise as you can't hold back any longer, cumming and creaming hard on his cock, your pussy and ass squeezing so powerfully he quickly follows, his fingers almost bruising your soft flesh as he's groaning and spilling hot inside you.

The symbiote growls and purrs along with him, satisfied and sated. It very slowly withdraws again, slipping out of your bodies leaving you wrapped in a sweaty mess of only each other.

Matt gently brushes some strands of hair away from your face. "You okay sweetheart? It… wasn't too rough on you was it?"

You stretch yourself out with a blissful sound against him, eyes half closed and a relaxed smile on your lips. "No, I… just didn't know I could feel that good."

Matt chuckles softly, kissing you on the cheek. "Neither did I."

You lie there for a few soft moments getting your breath back before guiding him to the bathroom, turning on the shower and pulling him in with you, letting the stream of hot water cleanse you both. His multiple tentacles are a great help washing your hair and soaping up your body, and you find yourself petting them and giggling as they wrap a fluffy towel around you when you're done.

"Honestly Matt, I think you're amazing."

Matt is almost brought to tears while he hugs you tight. It feels so good to know he doesn't need to face this change in him alone, and that he's lucky that he met someone as understanding and loving as you to share it with.

Now all he had to figure out was how to explain his other life to you…

#matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #symbiote!matt murdock #venom!matt murdock #consentacles #oh my god what have i done 😅#what's that? do a Fratt version you say....?#monsterfucking #daredevil x female reader #symbiote!daredevil #venom!daredevil #daredevil smut #matt murdock x f!reader

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m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s · 9 months ago

Text

I’ve written another chronicle

Shorter than the last, but I’ve had this one in my head for a week now and was writing it throughout the week, and uhhhh

Yeah hope you all enjoy :)

—

Word Count: 677 words

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, mentions of trauma (not detailed, but mentioned), mixed angst and comfort (dashing of fluff)

Genre: Angst, comfort

Notes: This chronicle relates to snippet #7, so if you want more context, you can read that snippet first. Not required, but it’ll allow for more understanding of what’s going on in this chronicle :)

—

chronicle II - savior

—

That night, he saved her from whatever monster was surely coming to get her.

“You keep working late, and you’ll start losing sleep.”

It was worth it.

That’s what Bucky had told himself when V had shown up at his door.

Mere hours before the sun would rise, cresting the horizon with its warmth.

It couldn’t come fast enough.

She was running, running from monsters and people and things that weren’t even real, yet her mind was clouded with what was real and what was fake.

A fuzzy line that split reality in two. Halves of a whole, broken and misused.

Bucky hadn’t ever seen her like this, but he didn’t need to.

He saw it in himself.

Nights upon nights of cold sweats and screaming and sobbing so hard that sheets and pillow cases were damp for days after. Mirrors that held another of yourself, somehow you and another of yourself at the same time. Gazes held in glass that you couldn’t hold for long before turning back to shaking hands no longer your own.

It was 3 am now, a head sprawled across his lap as he sat on his bed.

Soft breaths, no longer shudders of her breath in the wind, tears spilling out of troubled eyes.

She didn’t tell him what she saw.

He didn’t expect her to.

The fear of another shadowy snake with fangs and poison and eventual demise far outweighed the voice lodged in her throat.

Her hair had grown.

Long, almost all the way down her back, loose frizz of waves and curls a heap in Bucky’s lap.

Stark white bangs, contrasting red.

The white hadn’t been there before-

“Buck?”

He hadn’t even heard him.

“You okay? I, uh, heard screaming from…”

Steve didn’t have so many nightmares anymore.

They both knew he wasn’t a stranger though.

“She had a nightmare.”

It was a knowing between the three of them. Of knowing there needed to be someone to turn to when the nights got rough, when the nightmares were no longer nightmares, but reality.

The halves of the whole.

“Bucky.”

Steve was a half in this whole.

“You can’t keep saving her like this. You heard what Banner said. It would have to be a miracle if she even remembers-”

“I wanted to save her.”

Simmers of anger, bleeding into Bucky’s veins.

“I know, Buck-”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like. Stop trying to pretend you know what it’s like.”

The anger died on the tip of Bucky’s tongue.

Steve was just a half of the whole, trying to find his best friend, desperate to make things right.

Deep down, the truth had been twisted by the short outburst.

Bucky was still adjusting to having someone who cared, not a figment or dream, but real.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Soft padding of feet, the weight of another joining Bucky next to him.

“You’ve always been the savior, Buck.”

In truth, he was.

Bucky had been the one to save the damsel in distress, to fight for a lady in the bar behind the movie theater, laying his life down, even if it meant coming back home with a black eye.

Home.

“I love her.”

“I know. I was there.”

He was a savior to his home. His person.

To V.

“I vowed to protect her, Steve.”

The stillness kept the words Steve wanted to say at bay, tides going back out to sea, retreating.

Steve knew the lengths Bucky would go to.

Even if she didn’t remember.

“She always said you’d lose sleep staying up this late.”

Stillness stopped, the warmth of the joke spreading.

Steve caught the crack of the smile on Bucky’s face.

“She did.”

Steve was a half in the whole, comforting, and Bucky’s best friend.

Even if Bucky was still grasping to remember everything about his best friend.

In the warmth of his friend and the soft sage green lamp, he wondered if V would ever remember his vow to be her savior.

“I promise to protect you, and love you till…”

—

tagging peeps who I think would like this because i don’t even know what my taglist is anymore: @hellothere-generalangsty @eyecandyeoz @monako-jinn-stories @rainydaydream-gal18 @emperor-palpaminty @chaoticvampirejedi

#the chronicles #chronicle II #that one au #v #winter solider x oc #angst #fluff #comfort #marvel #marvel mcu #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #the winter soldier x oc #mcu

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kallard · 3 months ago

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A Helping Hand

I am prepared to meet my maker. Whether my maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.

(The following contains subject material that will be triggering to some. Themes included are grief, loss and discussion of suicide and suicidal idealization, cancer and dying. Read at your own discretion.)

(Recommended listening: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4bKZT_Eg4A )

“You fucking idiot, what are you doing?!” someone shouted.

But Kallard’s ears were ringing so all he heard was a muffle voice, as if someone were trying to speak through a pillow. Someone had roughly shoved him backward and taken the gun from his hand the moment he had fired it, saving his life. Kallard sat up and stared at the man who had saved him. Himself.

“The fuck? I’m gone a week and you decide to blow your brains out?” Kallard’s counterpart snapped. “Selfish prick.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t need your saving,” Kallard snapped right back.

“Clearly,” the counterpart said with a sigh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Kallard’s counterpart sat down next to him and lit two cigarettes, offering one to Kallard. He reached out and took the cancer stick and took a few puffs. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, both of them focusing entirely on their cigarettes. It was obvious the pair didn’t want to talk about what had just happened and how close Kallard had been to dying.

“I thought you and the others left.”

“They did. I stuck around.”

“But I saw you leave,” Kallard said, finally looking over at his counterpart.

“I came back, had Gene drop me off near you. Wish I had prepared for cold weather,” the counterpart said, wearing nothing but a set of simple leather armor. There was a shield fitted to a strap on his back and a short sword sheathed at his hip. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the frozen north that was Garlemald.

“Why’d you come back?” Kallard asked between puffs of his cigarette.

“Got worried you’d do something stupid after seeing two people that are dead to you. Guess I was right. You are me, after all.”

“Right on the nose. You saving me was dumb as fuck, though.”

“Yeah, and why’s that? You just gonna do this after I leave?” the counterpart asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve got cancer. I’ve known for a while. Kept it from Seia. You’re the first person I’ve ever told,” Kallard said before inhaling what was left of his cigarette in one long drag.

“Fuck,” was all the counterpart said, shaking his head. “How bad?”

“It started in my lungs but spread across the rest of my body pretty quickly. Wasn’t bad at first, just had a hard time after working out. Now? I can’t even keep up with Yuki I’m so weak. I’ve managed to keep it from her this entire time, but she’s a smart kid. Not going to take her long to put two and two together.”

“How did you even find out?” the counterpart asked, passing Kallard a fresh cigarette despite the circumstances.

“Before this city went to shit it was an engineering marvel. We had cars, carriages with motors in them and rubber wheels with a metal body. Our level of technology easily dwarfed the rest of the world’s. We had amazing machines that could fly and rain hell down on out enemies. We also had technology to detect things like cancer.

“I started treatment when I found out, but it didn’t do much. It just held it at bay until we went AWOL. Lost the ability to treat it so it spiraled out of control. You ever been sick but not feel sick, like there’s something wrong with you? I’ve had that feeling for two years now. Now it’s mixed with dread and the fear of dying,” Kallard said, the words just spilling out of him. “I know, fucking stupid given what I just tried doing. Wasn’t really thinking…”

Kallard’s counterpart reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said with the weakest of smiles. “I’m guessing you have a bucket list of shit you want to do before kicking it?”

“Kind of, more of a mission, a goal.”

“Yeah, and what’s that? Clearly it’s not the entity,” the counterpart said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“No, it’s not. My people waged war on the rest of the world and I partook in that war on the bad guy’s side. I did what they said with glee. Things changed. Something happened and I lost any respect I had for my brothers and sisters in arms. My view of them was tainted. So we left. Went AWOL and destroyed the base we were stationed at.

“Landed us a huge bounty on our heads, but with my homeland now gone, it might as well not exist. There’s no one left to pay the bounty. So. I hunt the survivors, the ranking members, the ones who ordered us to kill innocent civilians. Found out there’s a large airship being built deep in the mountains.

“So, I’ve made it my goal in life, the last one, to destroy it and everyone working on it. I aim to kill everyone on the base. There are no innocents there anymore, not after what we did. With them gone maybe my home will have a chance of being reborn into a force of good. I’m tired of being the bad guy.”

“You’ve helped us with the entity, so it’s only fair we help you with this. Whatever it is you need, we’ll get it. People, resources, weapons, you name it. I’ve got your back,” Kallard’s counterpart said with a single nod of his head. “And that’s a promise. The rest of the family will listen to me and I’m sure my sister would love to help you out, to give you some closure.”

Kallard sat there and smoked as he thought this new bit of information in his head. He definitely needed bodies to help him but he wasn’t going to ask Yuki to help. She most likely wouldn’t be okay with helping a group of people kill a lot of other people. He sighed and looked at his counterpart, who was just sitting there smoking, looking up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Kallard said after several minutes of silence. “I accept your offer to help.”

“Good,” the counterpart said with a smirk. “But! There’s a condition. I want some of those awesome guns you have.”

Kallard laughed at that, momentarily forgetting about the suicide attempt. It felt weird talking to his counterpart, like he was talking to himself.

“You got a deal, but you don’t get to take mine. We’ll find you your own before we make the move against the airship. There’s something I’ve been considering that I may act on.”

“What, other than blowing up a giant airship?”

“Does your world have a void, a space where evil creatures live?” Kallard asked his counterpart, peering over at the copy of himself.

“Yeah, we do and it fucking sucks. It’s constantly trying to wipe out all life on our world. Why do you ask?”

“Because my world has a void too. There are people in this world called reapers who use the power of the void to cast powerful magics. I was thinking of seeking them out and learning from them. I have grown weak and I fear I won’t be of much use to anyone by the time we’re all ready.”

“That’s a dumb fucking idea, but Gene makes it work and so do many others on my world. The idea was always in the back of my mind, but after the Sha I kind of abandoned the idea. I never want to experience anything like that ever again,” the counterpart told Kallard. “Oh, the Sha were emotions embodied. My sister and I turned into one when Cassian was killed.”

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Of course I think you’re crazy. You’re me. I know what goes on in our heads, trust me.”

The two shared a laugh before Kallard spoke again. “Can you help me with this? I don’t want to go back home until I learn something about these Reapers and their Voidsent.”

“Sure, sure. I told the others I’d be gone for a few days, so I’ve got time before Gene opens a portal back home.”

“Good,” Kallard said with a smirk. “Let’s go have some fun.”

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love-bigboss1fan-me · 4 months ago

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Spoiler warning if you haven’t played MGSV or not familiar with any of the MGS games. Please keep in mind that this is my opinion and interpretation of V if you have another that’s wonderful because V’s ending has evidence to support both sides. With that said here is once again my theory on MGSV’s ending just more organized 😂 Also warning that this is long.

After 9 years of MGSV being out yeah I still think Venom is in alter ego of Big Boss’s mind. I’m not an expert so if I get anything wrong please correct me. So the ending shares that one of the things that caused Big Boss to go into a coma was a heart attack and he enters a brain dead state. This has a possibility of allowing brain damage. The medicine that Ishmael uses a “pick me up” was once used to help people who had suffered heart attacks. It is interesting to think that Big Boss and Venom’s injuries are in the same place, the head and the heart. I like to think Ishmael is a representation of Big Boss’s survival skill because seriously no one reacts to him when he makes any kind of noise. Which is odd that XOF soldiers just ignore him during their search. It is also odd that his right eye is tracking. I know some say it could be a glass eye or something and but the thing according to Para-Medic it’s ruptured and nothing has mentioned his eye being removed before or after. Even before V starts we had a snippets of Big Boss’s PTSD in the form of flashbacks and hallucinations. The famous scene of when The Boss passes and the flowers turning red is hallucination of his guilt and grief the flower petal turns white the second it leaves his hand and when he is no longer in that field. It is easy to say that is just MGS imagery but because it is MGS it probably does have something deeper going on beneath the surface. Portable Ops and Peace Walker have shown us him having intense flashbacks and in PW it actually causes him to black out once in the AI pod. We even hear a mix of voices of The Boss and her AI pod that it makes hard to tell which is the one from the pod and inside his head. The AI pod even has phantom butterflies and flower petals inside it. That imagery only stops once the pod is destroyed. He has a tendency to lie to himself when memories are too painful to recall. Like in PW he knows full well what the truth is of 3 otherwise why would he eventually go off on his own but because the truth is too painful he goes with the cover story to prove some mental release. Can you imagine how much stress he must be under in trying to keep his trauma at bay and having people to rely and look up to him. He can’t show that he is cracking. Could you lead with all the questions and doubts inside your head? It is like with the clones he knows they exist but rather than admit that he dismisses any talk of cloning because wouldn’t you if it was done without your consent. So why not pretend that they have no relation. MGS4 even mentions that something about Solid and Liquid’s DNA having differences. Also who is to say Ocelot didn’t run the test and just lied to Miller by saying that they have no relation. After all Miller knows too much about Zero and the clones to be a simple “business partner”. It would serve Ocelot well to keep him in the dark for the time being. Instead of acknowledging past betrayals cough Miller cough why not pretend they didn’t happen. Most remembered him saying “they are much sicker than that” when Ocelot mentioned them being cell grown in a lab however not 2 seconds later he tells Ocelot to treat them like everyone else. That’s such a fast switch and why. I don’t think all the tapes are truthful since we have seen Ocelot and Miller in the Paz hallucination so who is to say there isn’t more. Speaking of Paz it is forgotten that she says in PW

“I am an angel of Peace I will be watching over you” it kind of makes sense why he would think about Paz that way. Before Zeke he did seem to care about her in some way and even sounds a bit upset after the battle. Despite her angel of peace act he did eventually warmed up to her and some of her ideas.

“Fighting is the only thing I understand but this doesn’t mean I have a grudge against those who believe in peace.”-Big Boss (this really needs to be talked about more)

I also noticed she sounds oddly cutesy in the truth tapes much like the hallucination tapes. Paz only sounds like that when she is undercover and drops it when she doesn’t have to hide anymore like her diary or Ground Zeroes tapes. So why is she doing the young voice when talking to Zero? It is strange unless it is a clue that V is still not being honest. The credits in V and the timeline also are a bit strange like Kiefer Sutherland being credited as Snake but not as Big Boss yes they share the same code name but if they are different why not credit them differently that’s like calling Big Boss and Solid Snake Old Snake you would be kinda of right but still wrong. The timeline says Big Boss’s Phantom ok if Venom is his own character why not call him Venom, use the player’s name, or heck call him Ahab as we hear from time to time. Why phantom? It sounds very vague.

In MG2 SS there is a codec you can read that talks about the rest of Big Boss’s limbs and right ear becoming cybernetics and MGS4 talks about rebuilding his body. We don’t know what that rebuilding means but the novel and database do lean into that rumor being true.

I also have some interesting snippets of Skull Face also being a potential alter ego even though I go back and forth with it but impossible to ignore. Skull Face and Big Boss have the same past. In the “unofficial” official Big Boss is a third generation Japanese American in Hawaii and became an orphan during WW II. You could go far as to say we don’t know what language he grew up using, a mix of Japanese and English or if one was more favored over the other. Skull Face is Hungarian and also became an orphan during a war. Skull Face is referred to as a ghost without a past well who does that sound like? Big Boss will not tell the other characters about his past other than The Boss. Heck as the player you actually have to dig around for it in the wiki or databases. Even the name John Doe is a reference to an unknown male. He is very much our ghost without a past. Skull Face has an odd interest in The Boss that only shows up when we are in the jeep with him and even holds onto some of her possessions.

“You left everything behind your country, your identity, your past, and ideals”-Miller about Big Boss

“His country, his family, his face, his identity, everything was stolen from him.” Ocelot about Skull Face

I don’t think I have to mention them being burn victims. They even share dialogue

“Nothing to be ashamed of pain gets the better of us all.”

“Chico, growing up means choosing how you are going to live your life.”

Lol I think that’s everything. If you read to this point thank you. As I said this is just my interpretation of V’s ending if you do believe Venom is his own character then go for it V has evidence to support both sides to keep us talking for years to come.

Happy 9 years MGSV

#big boss #metal gear solid #has it really been that long #My MGSV theory

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jayfortheday · 3 years ago

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Pinball Champion (Vance Hopper)

Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN!Reader (romantic or platonic)

Word count: 412

Description: After weeks of trying, Vance finally beats his pinball high score

Tags: language, Vance loves pinball, everyone's happy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aside from you and Vance, the Grab N Go was empty. Even the woman behind the counter had retreated into the back to attend to other tasks. Normally, the woman wouldn’t dare to leave Vance unattended in the store, but seeing him with you quelled her anxieties. Over the months you two had been coming here together, you had proved to be quite successful at keeping Vance’s more wild side at bay.

Vance stood hard at work, eyes laser focused on the pinball machine in front of him. You stood beside it, leaning against the adjacent window. You watched both the machine and Vance, looking between both subjects. The metal ball bounced around the machine, dinging as it hit the sweet spots. Vance’s eyes followed it religiously, his fingers posed ready on the buttons on either side of the machine.

You could see him stick his tongue out of the side of his mouth slightly, deep in concentration. You fought to keep your laugh at bay, not trying to break his concentration.

“Am I almost there, Y/N,” he asked quickly, breaking his concentration for only a second to speak. You peered up to the score reader.

“Almost, V. Got about 400 points before you’re there,” you replied. You could feel Vance’s excitement radiating off his body. He’d been working to beat his high score for months. Before, the closest he had come was 1,200 points, so the stakes felt high. Although you could see the temptation in his eyes, Vance was determined not to cheat. He wanted to earn this.

With a couple more dings of the ball hitting targets, you laughed triumphantly. Vance smiled widely, understanding your laughter, but kept playing. He kept going until the ball fell in between the flippers and ended the game. Vance smiled widely at the scoreboard before bursting out in happy laughter.

“2,000! I beat it by 2,000!” He looked so excited. “Son of a bitch, I fuckin’ did it!” His right hand grabbed your left and shook it in the air triumphantly.

“Make way for the pinball champion,” you smiled at him, sharing in his joy.

“Damn straight,” he nearly shouted, letting go of your hand to punch the air above him.

“You know what we gotta do now,” you said, crossing your arms happily. He looked down at you with a grin everyone else would read as threatening.

“The one thing in life I do know,” he laughed. “Milkshakes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little ficlet. Ever since I saw Vance on the big screen, I'm like obsessed with him. I just want him to be happy and to beat his pinball high score.

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #the black phone #fanfic #fanfiction

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igotathingforvampires · 2 years ago

Note

Can I request Marcus (or all the kings) taking care of a sick human mate? I’m v v sick and could use some Volturi love xoxo

In Sickness and In Health:

Well, here it was, despite being tangled with a plethora of ancient immortals who never got the sniffles, you were inevitably sick.

It slowly began with the sniffles, as if you were cold— well of course the vampires, mainly your guard Afton had felt his eyes bug out and he had rushed around throwing blankets on you as if that would ward off any bacteria or virus already in your system half muttering about how his Master would kill him if you so much as got a cold.

Oooohhh it was much worse than that.

It was pneumonia. Not that you knew that yet. “It’s just a cold Affie.”

“Nonsense! You humans are so fragile for gods sake you were wiped out with a plague of flu!”

No one knew how you got it, considering you were well within the walls with no one but vampires, but it turns out that one of the staff who handled laundry had been sick— you really didn’t want to know what happened to them— and came to work anyway despite STRICT rules not to even if you had sniffles.

Afton fretted and paced since Master Marcus was in a Trial and had texted him that you were sick.

Marcus was there in a mere blink. He had told Aro to stuff it and once Aro found out he permitted his brother’s absence.

“Marcus darling I am alright—“ you couldn’t get a word in edgewise as you were whisked to his rooms, a fire built, blankets piled on, a cook— vampiric as not to spread germs, as well as the doctor who was also a vampire came rushing to his aid when called.

“This is ridiculous.”

But— within 24 hours you were a miserable wheezing mess on the bed sweating your heart out and groaning in pain of body aches.

Marcus was fucking terrified. He had never seen human sickness, not in a long, long time, and those that were sick they didn’t eat because— i mean ew would you eat a moldy sandwich?— i didn’t think so.

Cold hands are pressed to your burning face cooling you off, when that doesn’t work he winds himself around you in sweats and a tshirt letting his fridgid temperature cool you down and keep the consuming fever at bay.

Your throat is so hoarse you can’t speak, so Aro comes and holds your hand and speaks for you, he is rather indulgent of his brother’s mate, and was concerned tutting over you as one did a child spoon feeding you chicken broth and holding juice out for you to drink from a straw despite mental protests.

“Nonsense cara Mia, you are family, let us care for you, this wont be a bother once you are immortal.” He gives his usual manic smile and pats your burning forehead.

The breathing treatments were what scared Caius. “What the Gods is wrong with them?” He asked tapping the machine that nebulized the medication for you to breathe in to settle your lungs and hack up any mucus. “Gross.” Was the blond’s response.

But he dutifully stayed at your side reading you books from his giant collection and regaling you with war stories of his conquests while you watched peeking over the blankets with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.

Marcus however was trying so hard to stay positive, you had a turn for the worse, and when the vampiric doctor said that quite often humans succumbed to pneumonia the plan was to change you should you get worse— but you had needed anti-viral medications, whatever was needed though was acquired as soon as possible, and soon you were slowly on the mend.

Eventually, Marcus said fuck it, and adjusted his bite to help your body heal itself but not turn you.

Granted, it had altering affects such as you had super bat hearing now and could see very well. You also had a odd craving for venom— specifically Marcus’s. Aro was apt to write it all down when Marcus had bit into his lip and a drop of venom had pooled on his skin your gaze had gone black and you had leaned forward and bit down on the unbreaking but soft skin.

“Dearest?” Marcus had balked a bit— venom drinking was only done through mates, so it wasn’t unheard of but it was certainly odd, furthermore you couldn’t turn a person by them drinking venom, it was digested and could potentially make a person euphoric and drugged, but it certainly wouldn’t change them. But you had after the wound closed, shut your eyes and knocked out.

Needless to say you got a wrist full of venom after and it sped your healing along quite well.

Now all mended, you were happy to spend your days sitting with Marcus snuggling on the couches in the library reading.

#marcus volturi #volturi

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min-yunki-agustd · 3 years ago

Text

TAKE YOUR MEDS Part: 2

If you haven't read it already here's part 1 ( Please excuse the grammar. I have adhd and I was still learning how to work through it. and I still am lol)

TAKE YOUR MEDS PART: 1

Yoongi having trouble with the meds he was proscribed (lots of nausea and adjusting to the meds ) the meds being for his confirmed gluten allergy.

Tw: emeto, mentions of v****, nausea, sickness

Word count: 4,877

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It was a new day and he was going to put all his troubles behind him. Yesterday he threw up and ruined the hybe dance floor. Today he decided that he had to get better at listening to his body and resting when he needed to rest. Today he got up, ate breakfast, got showered and dressed and he was ready to attack the day. He didn't have too much longer on the medication and he just needed to take it consistently enough then in no time he'd have that doctor's appointment. Before leaving he went to the kitchen grabbed water and went back to his room and took his medication. He and the others had separate schedules today but they'd all meet up for dance practice and then have dinner together. The first thing yoongi had on his schedule was a meeting with Mr. Bang on his progress toward the work schedule. A car was sent to his place along with the manager. While in the car his manager briefs him on the contents of the meeting. He could already feel the medicine at work in his stomach. It made the ride uncomfortable. The manager was constantly showing him papers and he had no choice but to look. looking at the papers in the car would make him feel sick any day. Somehow the dizziness he'd usually feel from reading in the car was heightened. His meds were most likely to blame for this. luckily it was manageable, he got threw the car ride without feeling too sick. So far so good yoongi thought.

Once they arrived he had exactly ten minutes before the meeting will start. He took this time to go to the bathroom. He threw cold water on his face. He was trying to wake himself up and get rid of the dizziness from the car ride. His stomach was giving him a little bit of trouble but not enough to feel nauseous. He was starting to feel like he had the symptoms of the medication he was taking under control. He looked at his watch. he had five minutes left. he decided it was time to get back and find a seat before the meeting starts. He dried his hands and left the bathroom. Once he arrived at the room he found a seat and sat down. Staff and his other coworkers congregated around the large dark wooden table. He sat quietly. He said hello to a few familiar faces but that was all. He had to focus on keeping his stomach at bay. He noticed the complimentary waters set out on the table and he took one. He figured he'd start sipping on it if nausea started to rise. After A few minutes, the meeting began. It was a little slow and boring. Making it hard for yoongi to pay attention. Meanwhile, yoongi could feel his stomach fighting with the strong medication in his tummy. He tried to ignore it at first. He went about the way he usually would during a meeting. He'd listen and gather the most important information and he'd ask Mr. bang. The longer the meeting went on the more his stomach swirled. He'd take a sip when he felt nausea rising. He took sip after sip. Growing quiet in the meeting until he completely ran out of water. He couldn't grab another because there were only enough for everyone in the room to have one.

He calmed himself. He took a deep breath and focused harder on the meeting. he'd deal with his stomach once the meeting was over he thought. They continued the discussion of yoongi's previous schedule, his schedule going forth, and how his personal schedule and BTS's main schedule were going to collide smoothly. He didn't hear much at the end. He was far too nauseated to listen. He could feel it. He was geting sick to his stomach. As soon as the meeting was finished he grabbed his paperwork and went straight to his studio. He sat his things down on the table and plopped down on his chair. He put his head in his hands. He wasn't sure if he'd throw up right now or if he could just ride it out nausea. He slid the small trash can from under his desk and sat it in front of him. He felt his stomach twist. He picked up the trash can and sat it on his lap. He waited patiently. His breathing picked up. he closed his eyes trying to calm himself. He swallowed down an unholy amount of slimy spit that covered his tongue. He took deep breaths in. Then out. he did that over and over until the strong bout of nausea passed. It settled low in his stomach not making him what to chuck his breakfast at the moment. He sat the trash can on the floor and sat back in his chair. He gave himself a few more minutes to breathe a little more before starting up his computer. He put a hand on his swirling stomach as he watch his computer blink and change to the loading screen as it started up. At the same moment, he heard a knock at his studio door. He could see a tall figure with silver hair. Most likely namjoon. "It's open!" yoongi yelled back rubbing at his stomach.

The tall figure opened the door and stepped into the light in the studio. It was, in fact, namjoon. " hyung can you listen to this and help me figure out what's missing? " namjoon asked holding out a flash drive. "sure, come sit yoongi says pulling up a smaller chair beside him. Namjoon came and sat. He handed the flash drive to the older one. Yoongi stuck it into his desktop and they waited for it to load up. While they were waiting namjoon looked around his hyungs studio it was neat and clean. He looked down to the small trash can that held a few crumpled-up papers. It was a few inches away from namjoons knee. " hyung why's this trash can so close, is it ok if I move it?" namjoon asked. " yoongi looked down. he forgot to move the trash can back to its original position under the desk. " oh, yeah my bad." yoongs answers. " have you been feeling alright? " I recall your meds giving you a lot of trouble yesterday. " before yoongi could answer the question namjoon asked another. " was the trash can for you? I can put it back if you're not feeling well hyung. " namjoon states. He did not want to be vomited on again. He didn't have a change of clothes. " I'm fine, I pulled it close to throw away some trash is all." yoongi didn't want to worry the other. He had things under control. The files were loaded and he opened them up. He turned up his speakers and unplugged his headphones. " they listened to the beat namjoon made. "It's pretty good so far," yoongi says. He listened some more. " here namjoon pointed at the screen as the sound plays. It sounds like it's missing something here. I tried adding - blah blah blah. is all yoongi heard when he felt his nausea rising up again?

He tried to ignore it again and actually listen to what namjoon was saying. " yeah maybe you should add more bass here?" yoongi says. " I just told you hyung I already tried, it makes it sound off." namjoon says with emphasis. yoongi didn't respond. Nausea came back with full force. He put his chin to his chest as he tried to swallow down the amount of saliva gathering on his tongue. " hyung? you ok? " yoongi squeezed his jaw shut and held on to the armrest of his chair tightly. He was geting super hot. " YOongi?" namjoon tried to see what was the matter but his hyung was unresponsive. Yoongi slapped a hand to his stomach. It was twisted in a knot. He sat up in his chair. yoons like he should try and make a run for the bathroom. Namjoon only watched to see what would happen seen as his hyung wasn't responding. yoongi stood up out of his chair holding his stomach. Yoongi's stomach dropped as soon as he stood. He gagged dry slapping a hand to his mouth. He was frozen. He felt his body lurch forward toward his computer. That motivated him to start moving toward the door. He ran out of his studio. Namjoon ran after him. He stopped in the middle of the hall. He gagged again. He wasn't sure if he'd make it. His body was giving up. He felt his warm and sticky chunks in the hand coving his mouth. Namjoon gave him a light push trying to get him to move forward. " come on hyung just a few more steps you can make it." yoongi wasn't too sure about that, his bones were weak when he felt this way. The nausea was overpowering.

He retched again into his hand. A little bit of sick fell through the crack of his hand. He had to let go of his aching stomach and hold his sick back with both hands. Yoongi didn't think he'd make it to the bathroom but namjoon was helping him so he would at least try not to make a mess. Even if his bones were giving up. He managed to make it.... to the sink. It was better than the floor he thought. He heaved up his breakfast. namjoon gave brisk pats on the smaller man's back. He was trying his best to help his sickly hyung through the situation. Yoongi held his hands out over the sink. They dripped sick all over the sides. With his dirty hands, he had nothing to hold on to. He almost slide to the floor after a very powerful heave but namjoon caught him and kept him upright. yoons was glad he wasn't alone. Namjoons warm hands gave the older comfort. He gaged and his body lurched forward towards the sink. Namjoon kept his grip tight. too tight in fact. It was squeezing yoongi's stomach uncomfortably causing another rough round to come up. Once yoongi was finished throwing up his entire breakfast he stood up. hovering over the sink. Yoongi seemed stable enough so namjoon let him go. Yoongi felt the tight gripping pressure ease off his stomach. Which also released a bit of pain. Yoongi was left standing over the sink face down with his hair pulled back. He knew he needed to get this gunk off his hands before the smell starts up a dry heaving fit but he couldn't get himself to move again. he was extremely tired and annoyed knowing the nausea was most likely going to linger with him for the rest of the day.

yoongi moaned loudly in annoyance. " are you feeling any better hyung? " that's right namjoon is here too. He almost forgot. Yoongi swallowed down awful-tasting spit. " I'm not gonna puke again right now. if that's what you're asking." yoongi was a bit sassy. Namjoon chopped it down to him still feeling crapy. " what are you going to do now hyung?" namjoon asks. " I think I can see the day through. I really don't want to get behind," yoongi says turning on the sink. He watches as the water guides his sick down the drain. " you should at least take a break and drink some water before you start working again hyung." namjoon suggests. "fine." yoongi says washing his hands under the sink. he took a paper towel, dampened it under the water, and wiped his mouth with it. Namjoon spotted his hands shaking as he did so. Namjoon figured he'd help him a bit threw the day, at least until he started feeling better. The two exited the bathroom. They walked back to yoongi's studio. This time yoongi sat on the couch. He laid back and held his stomach. "I'm gonna go get you some water hyung I'll be right back. Namjoon walked down the hall to where there was a lounge area. It had a few couches, and a coffee table that held magazines, and on the other side of the room was a mini kitchen with a table so that people can sit and eat their lunch. Namjoon went straight to the fridge and grabbed cold water for his hyung. He noticed that there were fresh bananas out and he grabbed one for his hyung.

Once he came back he saw yoongi sitting up on the couch with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. he opened the door and closed it behind him. namjoon didn't even bother asking if his hyung was feeling sick he just walked past and grabbed the small trashcan from under the desk and sat it in front of yoongi. He plopped down on the couch beside yoongi. " hyung, how are you feeling?" namjoon asked putting the water and banana in one hand so that he could rub his hyungs back with his other. yoongi did even notice he was back. how long had he been there he thought. It didn't matter. " I 'm still a little nauseous but I'm alright" yoongi felt more than just a little nauseous. " here. " namjoon says. yoongi looks to his side. He sees what the younger has in his hands. He takes the water. "thanks." yoongi says as he opens it up and takes a few swigs. "aren't you gonna take the banana? it's for you hyung." namjoon says holding out the banana. yoongi takes anothing refreshing sip of the cold water before responding. " joon. If I eat anything right now I'll toss my cookies. If you leave it on my desk I'll try it later but I can't right now. " he holds his stomach as he speaks. Even saying it made his stomach swirl a bit. " Ok hyung but you gotta eat sometime. did you even eat anything after yesterday?" namjoon wondered. " I couldn't I felt too sick but I had breakfast this morning, which you just saw come up. Anyways! let's get back to work joonie, now what was it you were talking about fixing on the track?" Namjoon found it weird that yoongi went straight back to doing work. Maybe it was to get yoongi's mind off the nausea he was feeling.

Yoongi got up with his water in hand and walked back to his desk. Yoongi helped Namjoon finish off the beat. Namjoon left to go to his own studio and vowed to yoongi that he'd come back and check up on him during lunchtime. yoongi didn't really care. He was just glad to be alone again. He was free to rub on his stomach and as long as wants. He started working on his own music. He was finishing up a song he'd been working on. After working hard for two hours straight namjoon was back just as he promised. " hey hyung! " namjoon walks straight in. " how have you been feeling so far?" yoongi saves his work and faces his chair to namjoon who was stepping inside. "I'm fine right now. I think I worked up a bit of an appetite so I'll probably try that banana. " yoongi says. His stomach was empty but it still felt uncomfortable. " great hyung. It's on the table near the couch. " Namjoon points to the banana. yoongi follows his finger and once he sees it he slides over to it with his office chair. Namjoon watched as his hyung opened up the banana and took a little cautious bite. He was still afraid of his stomach at the moment nausea still lingered.

He managed half the banana before he feels his stomach feeling nauseous again. He sets the banana down. " oh come one hyung. Its lunch time you should eat something. especially if your gonna try to make it to dance practice" namjoon had a feeling yoongi would try to attend. He'd been pushing himself to work and figured that was yoongi's next step. yoongi rolled his eyes. he knew namjoon was right and he was supposed to be doing better today. He was also not supposed to throw up today but that plan was out of the window. " hyung let's go to lunch together, you don't have to eat much but you gotta have something if you want to keep working."namjoon says. " fine" yoongi wasn't in the arguing mood. He'd rather just get it over with. They decided to order some food and eat it in yoongi's studio. Namjoon ordered pizza for lunch and yoongi ordered a plain soup. He couldn't handle much his stomach was still recovering from vomiting earlier. when their food arrived Namjoon dug straight in. He enjoyed every bit of the pizza he ordered. yoongi on the other hand had lost his appetite. He took a few spoons fulls of soup before sitting it down.

"Hyungggg" namjoon says upset. you should at least tryyyyy. Please hyung? for me." yoongi found namjoons whining annoying but he tried anyway so namjoon would leave him alone. Yoongi forced down half of the soup. He was stuffed, he couldn't have another bite. Namjoon was satisfied and once he was finished he left and went back to his own office. Before leaving namjoon told yoons that they should walk to dance practice together. Yoongi agreed to get namjoon out faster. Once namjoon left completely yoongi grabbed his trash can and placed it beside him near his desk. He was uncomfortably full and he wasn't sure if the food would digest or come right back up. He kept working. He worked for three more hours before it was time to attend dance practice. He hadn't thrown up any during that time but his stomach still felt very uncomfortable and active. Nausea rose once again in his stomach. He turned off all his equipment and shut off his ac and lights. He locked up his studio and went down the hall to namjoons so they could walk together. yoongi knocked on namjoons door. He could see through the glass door that namjoon was still working. Yoongi let himself in. "just a moment hyung let me save this and I'll be ready to leave" namjoon gathers papers on his desk and safes the work on his computer. Yoongi decided to sit in one of the namjoons chairs as he waited. As he waited he could feel his lunch swirl in his stomach. Working must have distracted him from the nauseating feeling he had in his stomach. He rubbed his stomach. Making small circles around his belly button. Namjoon rose from his seat. He gathered his papers in his hands and shoved them into his bag. " Alright let's go." namjoon says cheerfully. Yoongi slowly rose from his seat and exited the room. Namjoon turned off all the lights in the studio and locked them behind him. The two started walking toward the dance studio. As they walked namjoon couldn't help but ask. " do you think you well enough to dance today or will you be sitting this one out?"

yoongi wasn't sure. He wanted to practice with the others so that he'd be well well acquainted with his part in the dance, but, he wasn't sure if his body was in the shape to dance today. He was feeling sore from vomiting earlier and his stomach was growing nauseous. He definitely didn't want a repeat of yesterday. " as much as I really want to join practice today, I really don't think I can. I'm still quite nauseous from the meds." yoongi felt like he was admitting defeat.

Namjoon looked at him with shimmering eyes. " I think you made the right decision. We wouldn't want a repeat of yesterday." namjoon joked, elbowing yoongi's shoulder. " I'm glad your listening to your body hyung, I don't want you to push yourself too hard." namjoon adds. " yoongi hums in agreement. This was actually the first time all day that he decided to listen to his body and not push himself past his limits. He'd been ignoring how he'd been feeling up until now. Before it was manageable things like sitting and working. He knew he wouldn't have survived several hours of dance class without making the same mistakes. Once they arrived at the dance studio namjoon drop his stuff in the same corner he always did and began stretching with the others. Yoongi found him a place to sit and watch. Everyone already knew about his situation so he didn't have to explain why he was sitting out today. They were actually relieved to see him taking it easy in fact. Once the instructor was ready dance practice began. Yoongi watches intently from his chair. He figured that the least he could do is pay attention and still pick up the choreo. He'd even do small movements of the dance in his chair. His stomach began to give him trouble so he eventually stopped after a while. His stomach was making it harder and harder to pay attention. His lunch should have been digested by now but here it was swirling around in yoong's tummy. Yoongi kept still in his chair the only moving part of his body was his hand rubbing at his aching stomach. Every so often he'd feel a strong wave of nausea. He rode threw each one. He didn't want to puke. He was tired of throwing up. He wanted to keep watching the members during dance practice not watch his lunch leave his body.

After a few hours of almost sickening nausea break was called. He heard the instructor call it but he was a little busy with a particularly strong wave of nausea. He had his head held down with a fist covering his mouth, trying to decide if he should get up and make a run for the bathroom or ride it out. He burped quietly into his fist. He was trying so hard not to let it up but it happened anyway. A warm acidy taste of sickness coated his tongue after he did so. He stayed seated. He swallowed down the gag coming up his throat. Every time he tried to swallow down a gag it come back up his throat. He decided it was about time he rose from his seat and headed toward the bathroom before he ran out of time. Seen as he'd probably lose this battle with nausea. What he didn't see was namjoon heading in his direction to come to check up on him. Namjoon watched as the older ran out of the room with a fist pressed up against his lips. Namjoon knew what that meant. He followed his hyung. Yoongi went straight to the bathroom. Making it all the way to the toilet. He sat over the toilet. He kept swallowing down the sick that rise up his throat again and again. He figured that if he took a few deep breaths and tried to breathe threw the terrible bout of nausea he just might be able to hold on to his lunch a little longer but he was far too close to puking. Which is why he was briskly breathing over the toilet. His stomach Flipped. Uncontrollably he gagged dryly into the toliet. He was very close to losing his lunch. sit he took deep breaths and swallowed down the sick feeling. namjoon heard the gag his hyung let out as soon as he opened the bathroom door. "hyung you ok."

just great yoongi thought now he had namjoon worried again. " joon go away I'm fine." he yelled out in between breathes. Joon tried entering the stall but it was locked. " hyung let me in!" joon says. "NO" yoongi quickly says accidentally causing a dry heave to come after. " give me a little space, please, Joon." namjoon could hear the desperation in the older voice. He decided to step out. He didn't want to make the other man feel worse or uncomfortable so he left and waited for him outside the bathroom. It was tough after talking but after a few more dry gags he managed to get a hold of his stomach and not puke. He quickly left the bathroom. He was about to walk right past namjoon but he was stopped by him. Namjoon placed a hand on his hyungs arm. " wait for me hyung." namjoon says trying to catch up. yoongi waits for the other. " do you still feel sick? did you know..... know.... throw up any?" namjoon asked. " no I didn't throw up." yoongi says putting a hand on his sore stomach. They walked back to the dance studio and yoongi went straight to his chair. namjoon followed him. "Here," namjoon holds out water in front of his hyung. it was already opened. " no no you've been practicing hard that's your water you should drink it, "yoongi says. He was really thirsty but namjoon needed to stay hydrated too. "I'll just grab another from the breakroom hyung just take it," joon says. " if you insist" yoongi takes the water and takes a huge gulp from it. It didn't pleasantly sit in his stomach like before. It sat heavy and made it feel full along with his undigested lunch. The instructor called the members back to practice. Namjoon left but came back to tell his hyung something. " if you start feeling rough again let them know and I'll take you home." left afterward and went straight back to practicing with the other members. Even though the water made him feel bloated

he still drank it. It felt nice to his sore throat. He sat and waited for practice to end only wanting to go rest. He was exhausted from trying to keep his stomach at bay all day. He couldn't though. He knew the members were planning to have dinner after practice. yoongi didn't care about actually eating. He was more concerned about hanging out with the other members, Apart form namjoon he hadn't seen them all day. He wanted to spend time with them. He knew namjoon would want to do the same.

Time Skip ~~~

Yoongi convinced namjoon to let him go have dinner with the members instead of resting. He essentially lied to namjoon saying he was hungry. He wasn't he was still full from lunch and the water he drank only made the feeling worse. They loaded up in the car and went to their old dorm. On the way, they picked up food from the grocery store. They wanted to have a sit-down meal with each other like the good old days. Seokjin, hoseok, and jungkook all cooked together. With the three working together The food was cooked in no time. It was a beautiful banquet of meats and side dishes along with kimchi. If yoongi's stomach was in a better state he would have loved the delicious smell of the food roaming threw the house but the smell nauseated him. He question if this was a good idea. He'd have to eat and namjoon would be watching him like a hawk. They all gathered around the table. They ate, giving each other kind words about how well of a job they did cooking. Yoongi was dead silent. He was picking at the food. He had no appetite and he didn't think he could stomach any of the food. Every so often he'd feel namjoon staring at him and he'd quickly pick up some meat and shove it in his mouth. That worked for a little bit until he had to excuse himself from the table. And of course, namjoon followed behind him. Namjoon could see right threw his hyung. It confused him why would he rather eat himself sick than go lay down in rest. It was not like yoongi to choose food over sleeping. He found yoongi sitting on the edge of the bathtub. with a hand on his stomach rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. "hyung?" he ignored namjoon who walked in. Yoongi was going to throw up. he was so close. He couldn't really prolong it anymore. He was filled to the brim and holding down his nausea only made it worse. He got down off the edge of the tub and over the toilet. he could feel it climbing his throat. namjoon stayed silent. He walked over to his hyung and rubbed his back gently. Yoongi retched. bringing up a small bit of his lunch. He retched again, tasting acidy banana. Watched as soup chunks floated to the top of the toilet's water. He gagged, and a surge of the rest of his lunch came up. followed by a brutal stream of his dinner straight after. The streams longer and longer causing more pain in yoongi's throat. After four brutal rounds of vomiting, yoongi was empty and the harsh streams tampered off. He sat back resting his head on the side of the tub. namjoon stayed there silently rubbing at the other back. namjoon snaked yoongi's hand into his. yoongi cooed and the affection. " you know you going straight to bed after you finish right?" yoongi didn't reply to namjoons sentence but he got the message...

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I hope you enjoyed reading it!

#sick!suga #sick!yoongi #sick bts #bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw nausea #tw vomit #tw emeto ment #btssickfic request #tw emetophobia #sickieyoongi

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, this is a Monday Evening Prompt: How about Jaskier coming to Kaer Morhen and bringing little presents for all the wolves? Could be his first visit or not. Have a nice evening!

Hi Petrificustotaluss! I really did some worldbuilding here.

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Geralt could smell the anxiety rolling off of Jaskier in waves all the way up to Kaer Morhen. The bard was practically vibrating out of his travel cloak. On the few stops on their way up the mountain he didn’t sing, choosing instead to pluck repetitive tunes on his lute.

Their last stop before the keep was in a cave, long used by witchers returning home. This last haven before home always brought out something deep and maybe even proud in Geralt’s chest.

The cave was not large, but deep enough that the weather didn’t permeate. Geralt lead Roach to the back, where centuries of hooves had worn a groove, and threw her blanket over her. Jaskier rubbed her nose affectionately, looking around in wonder, despite the fading light.

Geralt began setting a fire in the ring of stones left behind by one of his brothers. Two slashes were carved into the side of a larger stone. Lambert then, a sign left for whichever of his brothers cam behind.

Fire flared and Jaskier gasped. Every witcher who had stayed in the cave, since its presence had been discovered, had carved their name into the wall. Jaskier stepped immediately to the back of the cave, tracing names almost worn away with trembling hands.

Geralt took his hand and guided his fingertips and his feet closer to the mouth of the cave. Jaskier brushed his thumb over the V in Vesemir.

“Your name...?”

Geralt found it for him.

“I couldn’t read yet,” he whispered, when he found the marks he sought. “You know how the letters switch in my mind. Eskel told me what to carve.”

The names were right next to one another and Jaskier pressed one hand against them, as if he was trying to reach into the past.

“Lambert’s is here,” Geralt said, voice almost a whisper. It felt appropriate here.

Jaskier traced it gently, too.

They sat down to eat without much talking, unusual for the bard, but this much history could be oppressive for anyone. There were drawings among the names and Jaskier kept glancing at them.

After dinner they huddled together, backs against one of the walls.

“That one,” Geralt said, pointing to the back of the cave, “That’s the first version of the wolf on my medallion.” He had smelled the anxiety rising on Jaskier’s scent again, and hoped talking could keep it at bay.

“There,” he pointed again. “That’s Gawain of Ymlac’s name, almost faded. He’s famous, bards wrote about his fight with a knight, Bertilak the Green.”

“I know the story,” Jaskier said, eyes wide. “But the way it’s always told, Gawain is a knight.”

Geralt shook his head. “Gawain was considered one of the best of us, but he was no knight. Bertilak visited here too, but he could not write, few could in those days.”

“So his name isn’t here?” Jaskier sounded disappointed.

“It is, the rough carving of the tree, beneath Gawain’s name, is his. It was the sigil on his shield.”

Jaskier’s eyes were so round he looked like a child at Yuletide.

“There,” Geralt pointed, “is the name of another famous visitor. I wonder if you know him.”

Jaskier stood and walked over. “Here?” he asked. “Taliesin, I’ve never heard the name, was he from another witcher school?”

“No,” Geralt said, walking to Jaskier’s side. “A sorceror and a bard. I think you would know him better by another name.” He couldn’t resist the dramatic pause. Jaskier looked up at him, hanging on his words.

“I believe they call him...” Jaskier leaned in. “Merlin.”

“Never!” Jaskier cried, hopping back. “Geralt you’re pulling my leg!”

“I am not,” Geralt said. “He wrote notes in some of the books in the library.”

Jaskier was no longer nervous, hopping about in excitement.

“Which ones? Do you know? I have to read them all. Geralt can you think of the stories!”

Geralt chuckled.

“This one,” he said. “Is Aiden’s signature.” It was hard to read, the rock was soft, but carving was still difficult work.

“Lambert’s friend?”

Geralt nodded. “From the cat school. I think you’ll like him.” The pair of them would probably manage to burn the keep down.

Jaskier looked around him with a stunned grin. Geralt pulled out the heavy work knife he kept at his thigh and offered it to Jaskier, hilt first.

“What?”

“Well you need to carve your name, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s eyes filled. “Really?”

“Of course, someday someone will point out the name of Jaskier, the Continent’s famous bard.”

Jaskier grinned bashfully. He sat at the wall of the cave and scratched out his name. It was slow going for a human, without magic or mutant strength, but he did. Then he began a new carving.

Geralt didn’t ask yet, but restocked the fire and waited.

At last Jaskier pulled back, there was the carving from Geralt’s medallion, a lark, and a flower.

Geralt felt his chest tighten, but in a warm way.

That night, beside eachother in their bedrolls, Jaskier tossed and turned.

“Stop,” Geralt said. “Sleep, it will be alright.”

“The ground is hard,” Jaskier said.

“They’ll like you,” Geralt said. “You’re my-” friend, he wanted to finish. The word couldn’t seem to break from between his lips.

“Bard,” he finished lamely. “They know that, they’ll respect it.”

Jaskier gave a little twitch that was maybe a shrug under the layers of fabric.

“They’ll see what I see,” Geralt said.

“A fillingless pie?” Jaskier said jokingly. Some of the anxiety had gone, though.

Geralt huffed. “Everyone knows the crust is the best part, anyway.”

He rolled over and went to sleep.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

They arrived at the gates of Kaer Morhen midmorning the next day. Jaskier was looking around in awe, taking in the crumbling architecture.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Geralt was about to respond but was tackled into a snowdrift by his younger brother.

Geralt laughed and tossed Lambert off him, only for Eskel to join the fray, the three of them scrapping and laughing, rolling about the courtyard.

Vesemir pulled them apart by their collars. Then he nuzzled Geralt before gruffly ruffling his hair. “Welcome back, lad,” he said.

Jaskier was looking on wide-eyed, but Geralt didn’t have time to explain the odd greeting because Eskel was next.

His brother gave him a rib shaking hug and roughly grated his cheek along Geralt’s, snuffling a little as he took in his brother’s scent.

Lambert, still a pup, didn’t wait his turn and butted his cheek agains Geralt’s other one, then delivered a bit of a nip to Geralt’s ear. He pulled back looking a little embarrassed, but the brother’s understood, sometimes the wolf instinct was a little strong.

“Um,” Jaskier said. Four pairs of golden eyes turned to look at him.

“I’m Jaskier, Geralt’s bard...should I greet you like a wolf or....?” He stuck out his hand awkwardly.

“A handshake is fine, lad,” Vesemir said, taking the bard’s offered hand. Geralt watched Jaskier almost not wince as his fingers were, accidentally, ground together. “The wolf is just a little stonger in winter for my boys.”

Geralt noticed that Vesemir’s nostrils still flared as he took in Jaskier’s unfamiliar scent, but didn’t say anything.

Eskel and Lambert both somewhat sheepishly shook the bard’s hand. Then the little party unloaded Roach and continued into the great hall.

Jaskier gratefully warmed his hands at the fire before sitting at the table with the rest of the witchers. He began digging in his pack.

“I, uh, I brought gifts,” he said, pulling out packages. “Since I’m your guest and all.”

Vesemir huffed good naturedly “still put you to work, guest or no,” he said.

“Of course,” Jaskier said. He looked around. “I have one for Aiden too? Is he here?”

“Eavesdropping,” Lambert said. A witcher slunk around a doorway and sat next to him, not even bothering to look ashamed. He was of a leaner build than the wolves, more wiry.

Aiden extended a hand to Jaskier, who took it politely.

“I’ve heard good things,” he purred.

“Thank you.”

“Heard you’ve tamed Pretty Boy.”

Geralt snarled, mostly playfully.

Jaskier smiled. “I get him to take a bath once in a while, I’m not sure it counts as tame.” It got a chuckle from Aiden, and Geralt felt his sanity slipping away already as he pictured their friendship.

“Um,” Jaskier said, proffering a package to Vesemir. The old wolf took it with a nod and pulled at the rough twine.

“Candles,” Vesmir said, looking at the slightly misshapen lumps in front of him. Four of them, in waxed paper, and an odd color, a pale, pale green. Geralt realised it first, but Vesemir said the name before him.

“Strydwen wax,” he said approvingly. “Burns without smoke or heat. Never goes out or melts away. Thank you.”

The ‘thank you’ was said with a resonance that Geralt had never been able to master. It sort of took up place in your chest and stayed there. Jaskier fairly glowed with it.

“For Eskel,” he said, handing another package over.

Eskel smiled at him and pulled apart the wrapping to reveal a large, leatherbound book.

“Poetry,” Eskel said delightedly.

“Newly published by a former professor of mine,” Jaskier confirmed. Eskel examined the cover.

“You studied under Rumi?” Eskel looked impressed.

“Six semesters,” Jaskier said ruefully. “He isn’t an easygoing grader.”

The final two gifts were dispensed at the same time, and Lambert and Aiden tore into their packages to find twin daggers, balanced for combat, not throwing.

Lambert admired the round stone set into the end. Geralt, trained in the same school, figured he was picturing bludgeoning someone with it.

“Twist it,” Jaskier suggested. Lambert gave it a go.

The stone on Aiden’s dagger glowed faintly.

Aiden twisted his and Lamber’s glowed, both fading after a few seconds.

“To communicate?” Aiden asked.

Jaskier nodded shyly. “I thought...for when you separate on the Path.”

Lambert grinned at him, his smile all teeth. “It’s perfect, I’ll annoy him with it constantly.”

The table descended into cheerful bickering and Jaskier sat back, smiling. He looked at Geralt and a furrow laid itself on his brow.

“I should have given you a gift.”

Geralt looked at his cheerful family, thought of a song that made witchers’ lives easier like a magic spell, a companion. He thought of a cave full of stories, with his and Jaskier’s carved together.

“You have.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some history notes! Because I’m a nerd! Gawain of of Ymlac and Bertilak the Green are of course a reference to the Arthurian legend of Gawain and the Green Knight.

Taliesin is also a reference to Arthurian legend, being a famous 6th century Welsh bard, one of the first bards we know of who told the tales of Arthur (although many of the stories are based in pagan sun god myth). Over centuries, the name Taliesin sometimes appears in Arthurian legend as another sorcerer, a wise sage, a poet, a demi-godly figure, or another name for Merlin. I picture Jaskier’s story sometime much later becoming something like Taliesin’s on the Continent.

Jaskier’s former professor is Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, a 13th century Persian poet.

Also, I couldn’t resist having our wolves greet eachother as such. It’s too cute and I’m taking this headcanon as canon. Permanently.

#I'm a nerd your honor #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #vesemir #eskel #lambert #aiden #lambert x aiden #geralt x jaskier #could be platonic ig #i think they wanna kiss tho

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luckycheesefoodie321 · 3 years ago

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Interceptor (2022) aka Matthew Reilly’s first turn in the director’s chair

Did it feel like a Matthew Reilly film? Yes. Every inch of it. Especially that opening exposition about nuke flight times and interceptors… deffo felt like I was reading a classic MR novel.

Did that mean, as a consequence, some of the dialogue I might forgive in his books felt obscenely clunky in the movie? Also yes. Some of the lines in this just felt so wasteful and delivered so poorly.

Everything about the scenes involving the president and her advisors just was weird and uncomfortable. The line about “half think you’re insane. Half think you’re a rockstar. Luckily I’m in the latter half” and when the President just immediately started making threats to Kessel and cursing him out and not even attempting a diplomatic approach or negotiation was just so left field and unprofessional and just clunky… I wouldn’t have minded the game theorist lines if they’d been trying to like micromanage JJ’s moves and then she finally snapped and had her whole “you haven’t been beaten and shot at. I’m pretty fucking motivated so screw your 14%”… but they kinda were just like “hey we got smart people here. Game theorists. Here to support you gurl!” The 14% would’ve felt way more earned then…

Bc like the whole thing was about her being horribly persecuted for speaking out against sexual assault by a high ranking officer… and other men in the army exploiting old pics of herself… and Kessel’s whole deal was mansplaining the corruption of America and the 1% (as a white male that is part of the 1%)… and if they just piled on to the whole administration trying to control the situation from far away and compiling that annoyance and frustration that she could almost sympathise or at least recognise the validity behind Kessel’s (extremely patronising) monologue… AND THEN STILL DO THE RIGHT THING BY HER COUNTRY… and then finding out dude wasn’t as self-righteous he claimed and was doing it for money and to get rescued… could’ve been v powerful is all I’m saying

All that said, I recognise that this film clearly had a smaller budget, they couldn’t switch between multiple sets and make for more complex scenes and moments in a physical sense so there seemed to be a lot of front loading in trying to keep the focus on JJ…

I really did enjoy this film. Am I critical of it? Yes. But I enjoyed the dynamic between JJ and Kessel. Felt reminiscent of Die Hard, though not as compelling. Maybe a little too much immediate buddy vibes bc it felt like they’d team up rather than be engaged foils that acknowledge each other’s skill and merit but are forced to do battle… like their first convo was a lil too casual considering he merc’d her commanding officer… but they had good banter and back and forth and I appreciated how they tried to read each other’s next moves…

Do I wanna see Matthew Reilly direct more? Yes absolutely. This was clunky but given the parameters he’s working with and it’s his first time directing, I am hoping he can really take from this experience the highs and lows and eventually get himself a Michael Bay budget that he’d always dreamed of… and then just go all out. But his screenplay writing needs a little work. Hit some kinda cliche beats but they only feel cliche bc it’s a movie thoroughly saturated in all of MR’s fave things…

and eventually I wanna see him direct his own Action Thriller adaptation of Ice Station or an Action Adventure of Seven Ancient Wonders… so I’m taking this first venture as a nice stepping stone. A bit of a brain off action movie with a nice straight through line plot…

Also Elsa Pataky and her goddamn arms???? Magnificent. Even with the clunky dialogue I enjoyed her acting. And her fight choreo was great. I wish they’d reduced her husband’s cameos to the one at the start bc it kept taking me out of the film bc all I saw was Thor trying to sell tv’s…

Also also Matt. JJ Collins. JJ Wickham??? Sea Ranger??? Pirate??? Submarine??? The dots are connecting…

#interceptor #spoilers #interceptor 2022 #Matthew Reilly #interceptor movie #Elsa pataky #jj Collins #Chris Hemsworth

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appples · 4 years ago

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Fire v Fire

Bakugou x Reader, Dabi x Reader

TW: non-con, sexual assault

18+

“Katsuki, please!” he froze when he heard me use his first name. “Go, before it’s too late! You can’t get involved in this, it’s not your problem.” I put on my bravest face and tried to smile through it all. Pain was the least of my concern, shame and guilt were weighing much heavier.

“What are you talking about? How am I not in this already?!” He was screaming.

“Please forget about me!”

“I can’t! Even if I wanted to, I could never!” Bakugou’s speech was becoming strained, the erratic emotions seeping into his words.

“Isn’t this so sweet.” Dabi sneered as he stood behind me, continuing with his desires no matter what actions I took. In a quick burst he tore my clothing away, as if they were paper. I wanted to scream, although I don’t know if I did or not. Still holding my arms bound above my head, Dabi began to touch me in front of Bakugou. Each of the two had such warm and familiar touches against my skin. He pinched at my nipples and kissed my neck from behind, I had to close my eyes. The look of anguish on Bakugou’s face was too much.

Dabi’s grip tightened around my wrists, his free hand snaking its way down my body, already familiar with it like a worn roadmap. Settling over my pelvis, my pants were quickly pulled down. I didn’t bother to cry out this time. My face was too red with embarrassment to lift my eyes and meet Katsuki’s. With my pants removed, it was abvious to see where the embarssment was stemming from. The sun danced across the shimmering slick running down my thighs. Snapping my eyes shut was the only reprieve I could find. Instead, Dabi’s laughter pierced right through.

“Would you just look at this, Princess here is so wet she’s practically dripping. Maybe she really is just a whore and has been playing us all along. I guess we should find out.” Dabi moved his free hand before Inserting two of his fingers in me. I cried out.

“You fucking monster, leave her alone!” Dabi howled with laughter at Bakugou’s threats.

“I’m the one in control here. If you get any closer, I will burn the bitch from the inside out.” Bakugou froze in place, horror sweeping across him as he began to comprehend what was likely about to happen.

“Have you fucked her yet? Hmm, by the look on your face I would say you’re simping hard. Well I have, and I’m going to tell you all about it while you watch Princess here put on a show. Or even better yet, should I just fuck her infront of you?” After what Bakugou had shared with me over the time we spent together I had a terrible feeling that this might be what breaks him.

“Fuck me, this bitch is already so fucking wet.” There was malice in his laughter. He leaned down, continuing to laugh next to my ear. “I wonder how fast I can make you scream again. Make you cry for my cock in front of this failure of a hero, make you beg like the whore you showed me you were before.” While he spoke his thumb began kneading my clit, sending my body into spasms almost immediately. Then the whining started. Try as I might to hold my tongue, I couldn’t keep the whimpers and whines at bay. They crept out as my pussy throbbed and begged. Slick continued to run down my leg for Bakugou to see.

#smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha smut #bnha dabi #bakugou smut #dabi smut #bnha fanfic #mha smut #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #dabi x reader #mha x reader #wip #bnha wip #fanfic

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

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For You

Warnings: vampire, feeding blood, IV, drawing blood, forced drugging, passing out/collapse, blood loss, delirious state of consciousness, hallucination, death thoughts, fever, starvation, pills, forced medication

There was no strength left in their body. No strength to run, no strength to fight, and absolutely no strength to take care of them.

Villain laid on the cool, wooden floor of their bedroom, too weak to do much more than periodically twitch their fingers. Their eyes drifted closed every once in a while, only to open when they remembered that Hero was starving in the bes above them.

Villain rolled over onto their stomach, the motion causing the world to contort and waver into a dizzying pallette of pastel colors. They breathed deeply, gathering their arms underneath them before heaving themself up and into a sitting position.

After about five minutes of sitting there with their eyes squeezed shut, trying not to sway from their taxing position, Villain reached forward and grabbed the IV off the night stand.

"V-villain," Hero murmured. Villain cast them a long glance. Their nemesis was hardly conscious on the bed, starved and heavily drugged. Villain gulped. They didn't want to keep them sedated like this, but they would try to kill Villain otherwise.

"Sorry," Villain slurred, their voice was as fragile as Hero's.

"Mmn," Hero groaned and slightly opened their mouth, awaiting the meal. Villain gave a small nod that nearly caused them to fall back onto the ground. They put a tube into Hero's mouth then inserted the needle into their own wrist.

Within a second, the delirious and greedy vampire started to gulp frantically. Villain's bottom lip trembled as they felt their limited blood supply diminish.

After only thirty seconds, Villain began to feel incredibly light-headed and contemplated whether or not to stop Hero's feeding. But one look at the desperate face made Villain decided on the former- just a minute longer.

"Hmph," Villain gasped as they slumped forward onto the bed, their consciousness wavering. With shaky hands, they clutched the needled and deftly drew it out of their vein before falling completely unconscious.

Villain drifted between sleep and wakefulness for a while, still collapsed on Hero's bed. During their brief stints of consciousness they woule remind themselves of Hero's next dose, but couldn't bring their depleted body to do so.

They feel vaguely feel the awakening Hero stirring under their body. Villain pushed themselves backwards, planning on standing fully up and going about their day, but their body had other plans. They fell back, hitting their back against the ground as the world was submerged in a dark shade of ebony.

"Villain! Open up!"

Villain moaned and tried to peel their eyes open, but they were too heavy.

The voice- it was a voice, they were sure- came again, "Villain. You need help, open the door!"

Villain didn't need help, they were sure of it. Hero did- Hero needed to eat and Villain was able to take care of them. For them.

"For you," Villain whispered, almost like the faintest breeze.

Their fingers curled into the hard ground. They were aware of the floor's cool features, but oddly it felt warm. Too warm.

Villain forced their eyes open and saw a trickle of blood coming out of their veins from where the IV was still attached. They were so certaib that they removed it and seeing it felt like a rock was dropped into their stomach.

Villain tried to reach over and pull it out, but failed, letting out a strangled sob as they tried to call upon their healing powers. Using them made them completely exhausted, but it kept them and Hero alive.

Villain, after a few agonizing seconds of calling their power, finally felt a comforting tingling through their fingers as their body created some blood. It was low in oxygen and lacked all the necessary and vital functions that blood cells carried out, but it did a decent job at feeding Hero.

Villain sighed in relief as the new warmth spread throughout their body, drawing them back into sleep...

Villain woke rather unpleasantly. They were only aware of the heat gathering in their head and the fact that they were cold- oh so cold. They moved their hands about, testing their environment, but was quite confused at the outcome. Wet. They were wet and cold.

Villain cracked open an eye and looked around. White walls with small shelves that held various bottles. Looking down, they saw tiny glaciers floating around a small expanse of artic water.

Suddenly, they tensed, scared and completely convinced that they were indeed trapped in a frigid ocean.

"Shh," came a voice, foggy and distant as if Villain's ears were underwater. Maybe they were, Villain couldn't tell for panic consumed them.

So Villain continued their struggles even as ropes wrapped around their head pulling them against hard surface. A boat. They were going to be crushed by a boat. They kicked and resisted the ropes that tied them so tightly against the imminet danger.

"Let me go!" Villain yelled, pushing away. The ropes let go, cut away by the knives that threatened to slit Villain's throat.

The term "knives" was literal. There wasn't just one silver dagger, but five, all working to free Villain before they decided to end the suffering person themself.

Those knives grabbed Villain's bare chest, right above their heart as they were pulled right back against the boat.

"Villain. You need to calm down. You have a fever, you are safe, okay? So is Hero. Do you hear me? Hero is being taken care of."

Hero... taken care up... Villain allowed their tired body to slump deep into the cold waves as they waited for one to take them to their grave.

But the merciless ropes and knives held them up, keeping them from drowning. Soft tendrils drifted through their hair and for a moment fear enveloped Villain at the thought of a mysterious plant suffocating them.

But, once they decided that the tendrils were kind, they leaned into the gesture, closing their bloodshot eyes as darkness closed around them...

Villain woke up, dazed and confused. They struggled under the thin sheet that covered their pale body, but was too weak to push it off.

Looking around, they noticed that they were in a foreign- possibly dangerous environment. The memories of the night before were foggy like they were swallowed, threwn up, then swallowed again.

But they did remember Hero, sick and starved on Villain's bed.

"Ah your awake," came a tired voice. Villain's gaze shot to the person sitting next to them. It took a moment but...

Supervillain.

Villain flinched and tried to run away, only to get tangled and stuck on the floor. Carpet, not wood.

They weren't in their house.

Villain squirmed, terrified of the all too familiar face. The face that brought tears of pain to many. The face that was probably here to punish Villain for taking care of a hero.

But Supervillain only walked to the other side of the bed, scooped the weak villain up, and laid them prone on the bed.

"Are you too warm?" Supervillain asked, placing their cold hand upon Villain's burning forehead. The cold hand that was going to be the death of Villain...

"Still running a fever..." Supervillain murmured and turned around. Villain barely had time to register the words before they were faced with a small, evil-looking, torture device.

Oh boy did it look simple and the possibilities were endless of what it would do. Villain imagine maybe it had a hidden needle and they would be drugged. They also wondered if it contained a knife- knives were threatening them before, why not do it now?

But nothing prepared them for the way Supervillain clutched Villain's jaw, forcing it open and sticking the device under their tongue.

Nothing prepared them for the lack of pain other that a sharp pinch. Their eyes began to flutter closed. After all, Supervillain wasn't torturing them...

A loud beeeep brought them back around. They stared deep into Supervillain's concerned eyes.

"I'm going to get you some medicine. Okay?" Supervillain laid a hand on Villain's head. "Try to stay awake for me."

Villain swallowed and nodded, small and helpless. Weak and fragile like a thin glass just waiting to break at the slightest touch.

But, despite Supervillain's request, Villain began to doze off only to awake when they felt like they were falling. They kept on forgetting what their half-consious self was dreaming or thinking about after those falls.

"Dang it Villain," Supervillain groaned when they entered the room and saw their colleague's eyes half-rolled into their head as they stared at the ceiling without any real object or reason.

"Come here," Supervillain cooed and gently cupped Villain's chin, opening it, and slipped the medicine into their mouth. They hoped that the sick villain still had some instinctual reflexes as they dumped some water down their throat. Supervillain then went to work on rubbing Villain's throat until they swallowed, taking the tylenol nto their stomach.

"Good job," Supervillain praised. They wiped Villain's sweating brow with a wet cloth while their patient drifted off to sleep. Supervillain did nothing to stop it.

Hero was struggling against the restraints as henchmen pried their mouth open.

"Gosh!" One of them squealed when Hero nipped at their hand. "They got rabies or something? They are wacko."

"They are a vampire you dim-wit," another henchman growled. That same henchman took Hero's mouth with some pliers and held it open long enough for the other to slipped some tablets into their mouth.

The hero swallowed and hissed.

"Okay. Supervillain told me that those will keep their vampire side at bay until they gain some weight," Henchman1, the one got bit said, wiping their nose with their hand.

Hero continued snarling until they exhausted themselves, slipping into sleep. Henchman2, the other, stood up and started to pace.

"Knock that off," Henchman1 snapped, standing up themselves. "You are taking first watch."

"No. You," Henchman2 shoved their friend. "I am not sitting with a freaking vampire. Did you see Villain? Part of me wonders if they were mind controlled."

"I thoroughly assure you that they weren't," Henchman1 rolled their eyes and slipped away from Henchman2. They opened the cell door and left.

Henchman2 walked over to Hero where they laid on a cot, unmoving. But, as if the presence of another was like a stimuli, the hero woke up.

Their eyes this time were not filled with desperate starvation or anger, but of worry.

"Where's Villain?" They asked, looking around. "They are not thinking. It's dangerous... it's..." they trailed off, their gaze meeting Henchman2's. "Are they dead?" They chirped.

"No, but sick and unconscious," Henchman2 replied, relaying the last update. That was about five minutes ago.

"They need my saliva," Hero continued. "To quicken the healing process. I cannot stimulate blood production, but I can share my healing."

"Villain has a healing factor as well and it doesn't seem to work."

"Because they are beyond exhaustion. Pair that will blood loss and starvation themselves, their chances of surviving are low. They need my saliva."

"How do I know this isn't a trick. A way to eat more?"

"I am human now. I need actual food. When the vampire takes over is when I can only consume blood," Hero glanced down at their bony wrists. "Blood satisfies like candy, but it is far from nutrious, but I thank Villain. Truly."

Henchamn2 smiled despite their best effort to remain nonchalant.

"I'm glad you do."

~ not going to edit, so I apologize for any mistakes

#villain whumpee #hero whumpee #hero whumper #? i guess #vampire #drugged #feverish villain #feverish whumpee #hallucination #unconscious whumpee #passing out #supervillain caretaker #blood tw #blood drawing #force fed #hero x villain

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

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uncertainty

summary: Riza sustains her Promised Day injuries at the same time Roy is pinned by Pride in the transmutation circle

an: tldr i was consumed by this idea all evening. the narrator, probably: this is the darkest timeline

this was originally supposed to be “riza gets her promised day injuries AFTER roy goes blind” but it evolved, grew arms and legs, then ran away from me. but. i am still v invested in that original idea so. why not play about w and write the same thing/something similar twice right? yolo

also. its been like. 4 and a half hours of work so if u see any mistakes no u didn’t <3

shoutout to those who left encouragement/interest in this idea and to meg for spurring the bradley being Bad idea along <333

rating: t | words: 3262 | tags: graphic depictions of violence, angst, angst with a happy ending, promised day, canon divergence, royai

read on ao3

“Let him go.”

Riza orders the Fuhrer to step down, to remove his swords from the Colonel’s hands, to stop piercing his flesh. Her gun is trained on him easily and Riza discovers she has no qualms about shooting the man in charge of the country. She will not hesitate to do so if he so much as breathes in the wrong way.

After his appearance, and his assault on the Colonel, Riza had watched the tips of Bradley’s swords pierce through the Colonel’s palms, had seen them bury themselves in the gaps in the stone beneath her commanding officer. With her heart in her throat, Riza had inhaled sharply and drawn her weapon without pause, training it on Bradley’s head.

Riza’s voice didn’t betray her raging emotions within. For years – over a decade – she’d kept them under wraps for a variety of reasons. And even now, faced with this horrifying scenario, she did not let them surface. As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t do it again. Not after her confrontation with Lust. She’d made a promise to the Colonel, and separately, in private, to Roy, not to.

“You were always an exemplary soldier, Lieutenant Hawkeye, following every order without question or complaint,” Bradley remarks. His spine straightens but does not remove his swords from the ground beneath the Colonel’s palms. He does not stop from looming over Mustang but turns his head to look at her. It’s reminiscent of a shark swimming right towards its prey, going for the kill, but Riza does not let that analogy get to her. She strengthens her grip on her pistol instead. “What has changed now?”

He’s toying with her. If she argued against any of his orders while his hostage, he’d have her killed.

A memory suddenly pops into her mind.

“You could always court martial me, sir.”

Riza’s eyes flick to quickly look down at the Colonel, lying pinned, helpless, and watching her anxiously on the floor. Mustang never would, but she misses the days where she could argue lightly against his orders and do what she felt was right and just by him and others she cared about and supported.

The doctor with the gold tooth writhes in agony above the Colonel, Bradley, and Pride, trying to call out for help and salvation, but the homunculi ignore him. Unfortunately, Riza has to as well, for she has seen how quick Bradley is and has felt the terror and harshness of Selim’s shadows, so cannot let herself slip for a second. If she does, it may cost her life. Or the Colonel’s.

“Simply doing my duty to this country and it’s citizens, sir,” she replies evenly. She holds no remorse for her actions. Not after the Fuhrer took her hostage for so long and the team discovered he was part of a scheme to try and kill everybody.

“Your duties involve following my orders, Lieutenant.”

Bradley is reminding her of her position as he trains his single eye upon her, but Riza tries her best to ignore it. It’s unnerving how piercing his gaze is, but she holds steady. She will not give into him and his intimidation.

“I am the highest authority to you. At ease, soldier.” He bites out the words, forcing them out as he tries to keep a lid on his fury.

“Not this time, sir.” She will not blindly follow his orders. Images of the desert flash inside Riza’s mind. Not again.

It angers him, but before he can react properly, Pride quite possibly saves her hide.

“We don’t have time for this, Wrath,” Pride sneers suddenly. He glares at Riza and she stares back, unflinching. She’s an expert at this by now after so many months under their scrutiny. She will not fall now at the final hurdle.

In response to Pride, Bradley angles his head towards him, looking away from her, and Riza feels herself relax momentarily. She does not turn complacent. Far for it. She’s too wired and on edge with the Colonel pinned in a transmutation circle underneath a homunculus’ feet to be close to any semblance of calm. But with Bradley’s gaze no longer pinning her, it’s a welcome reprieve. Her shoulders relax and lower a fraction.

“Enough of this conversation,” Pride continues. “We’ve got more important things to do.”

“Of course.” Bradley sounds so calm that it causes the knot inside Riza’s stomach to tighten. It’s the same knot that’s filled with unease and uncertainty regarding their current situation. It trembles and contracts as she stabilises herself and recentres her weapon so it’s ready to make a kill shot if need be.

“We have more important things to do,” Bradley repeats quietly to himself. His voice is without emotion, completely different from the rage-tinged tone he’d used just moments ago. Under his moustache, Riza sees a small smirk. One corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

In a flash, he rips the swords out of the Colonel’s palms, causing him to cry out in pain. They must have snagged on his skin because his loud gasp was laced with anguish.

Riza fires unflinchingly as Bradley charges at her.

“Lieutenant!” The Colonel’s cry is a gasp. She knows he fears for her, but she cannot focus on that right now.

Her finger does not let up on the trigger and it is relentless. She doesn’t have time to pay attention to it, but behind Bradley, Pride’s shadows dance around the room and she cannot fathom why. If she could spare enough of her concentration and tear it away from the charging homunculus, she’d realise the shadows were protecting Pride’s main body from her bullets flying behind the Fuhrer.

Bradley is too fast. He ducks underneath her weapon and outstretched arms, swinging around to her back.

Before she can blink, Riza can feel the kiss of cold metal on her throat.

Shit.

Her eyes widen, and so does the Colonel’s. His teeth are gritted together as he’s trapped in the transmutation circle, but his eyes meet hers immediately. It’s interesting to note how her own gaze zoned in on his during her sudden moment of helplessness, but Riza knows exactly why. She does not deny it to her heart.

“You’re a pest,” Bradley hisses in her ear.

The metal moves easily against her skin, like a knife moving through butter, and she hears the Colonel yell. As her body crumples to the floor he calls to her. He barks her rank, pleading with her to stay with him and focus on him. Her head hits the ground hard, and she’s dazed for a second. Her vision turns grey, and she cannot focus on anything, but still hears the Colonel calling out to her.

“Hawkeye!”

The others try to surge forward to intervene, but Pride’s shadows lash out and keep them at bay, pushing them backwards towards the outer wall. The homunculus forces them away from the two on the ground, preventing them from helping.

This is it.

She’s lying on the floor, bleeding out, with no one to assist her, and the Colonel is going to be forced to open the portal against his will.

She was supposed to watch his back and protect him. She was supposed to make sure no harm came to the Colonel so he could forge ahead and set in motion the plans he’d voiced to her over a decade ago. This was not how this was supposed to happen. Things changed in nanosecond and Riza’s brain has whiplash from trying to keep up.

“Do it, Pride.” Bradley’s anger is back under control. The bout of rage he’d experienced while advancing on her is gone. Or, it is back underneath his mask, hidden out of sight but simmering just below the surface.

Riza’s eyes meet the Colonel’s – no, Roy’s. His eyes are wide and panicked. She watches him strain against the dark tendrils holding him in place, but his struggle is futile and probably harming him. Through blurring vision she can see the colour red around his hands and up his forearm. The restraints must be cutting into his skin. Her mouth opens, asking him to remain still and not hurt himself. To not harm himself trying to escape to try and help her.

Impossible, she thinks to herself. Roy Mustang would tear the world apart for you. And you, him.

“Colonel –!” She wants to cry out to him, but with her injury it’s just a croak. A strangled, garbled call that doesn’t sound much like anything.

“Lieutenant!”

The homunculi ignore Roy’s cry, filled with such helplessness and anxiety. His expression is one of horror as their predicament hits him full force. His fight abates slightly, it stutters as his chest heaves with panicked breaths while realisation settles upon both their bones simultaneously.

They’re stuck and completely at the mercy of their enemies, with no hope of escape. No hope at all.

“It’s a shame to waste a soul,” Pride remarks quietly, sounding as though he’s talking to himself as he stares at the struggling doctor. His eyes lower lazily and focus on Riza. “When we have a perfectly good one right there.”

“Do it, Pride,” Bradley repeats, snapping this time. His mask is slipping.

Pride’s gaze lingers on her for a fraction of a second longer before turning back to look at the Colonel. His expression is unbothered by what he’s about to do. The complete opposite to the terror Riza can feel building within her.

You’re going to die, and he’s going to be forced through the gate.

“What will be taken from you Colonel, I wonder?”

Roy’s pained scream fills the air and infiltrates the gaps between her ribs. The sound cuts through her painfully, rattling her bones and constricting around her heart. She was supposed to prevent something like this from happening, but she didn’t.

Her vision fades and blurs even more intensely than before as the blue light from the human transmutation turns almost white. She cannot breathe. She cannot think.

The light winks out, leaving nothingness. The doctor falls to the ground, rolling slightly from the impact but Riza can no longer focus enough to determine what has happened to him.

You’re dying and he’s gone.

There was still a chance… A toll must be paid to pass through the gate so he may return alive, able to press on forward and achieve their goals and beat the bastards who did this to them today…

But it will be without her.

As Riza lies there, in a pool of her own blood, hearing her comrades call desperately out to her, a tear escapes from her lids and runs down her temple. She’s breaking her promise to the Colonel, to Roy. She’s leaving him, but it’s against her will, just like he had been forced through the gate against his.

She doesn’t want to leave him.

Images are flashing through his mind as he travels to the gate. It’s too much to bear inside his head. It feels like information is being stuffed into his brain far too quickly, and there’s too much. It’s overflowing. He sees snippets of his life, his past, and perhaps, what is yet to come?

Then there’s Riza, lying on the ground, clutching at her neck and lying in a pool of her own blood, but Roy blinks and she’s gone.

“Riza,” he gasps, the memory of what was done to her penetrating the fog inside his brain. It consumes him and his eyes squeeze closed. It does nothing though, it’s all he can see. It’s seared into his brain. He cannot escape the image of her dying, and him unable to help her.

The white room he suddenly finds himself in is featureless and unforgiving in its brightness. It hurts his eyes. Roy is reeling from arriving in the sudden and jarring expanse of white nothingness he finds himself in after passing through the gate, but he still squints and looks around frantically, looking for Riza, for some familiarity, momentarily forgetting himself as he’s overcome with his grief.

“What happened to her?” He demands an answer from the white being with the chilling smile. “Where is she?”

His questions go unanswered. When Roy starts to advance on it, the being simply smiles at him. After he takes about five steps, something secures around his aching wrist and jerks him backwards. Looking frantically down, wondering what is halting his approach, he realises with horror that these… things look similar to what Pride had used to restrained him before within the circle.

Not again.

“Is she okay?” His frantic cries are ignored.

Roy fights the tiny hands but there is no use. He cannot best them and it's worthless to try, but he continues to shout, beg, and pressure the smiling being to tell him what happened to Riza. To ask if she’s all right and going to live.

He has to. He needs to know.

Roy is drawn backwards, through a towering doorway, and into an inky black existence. Just like before, the last image he sees before everything goes black is chills him to his core. That white thing is still smiling at him in the distance, and for the first time since arriving there, Roy’s hoarse voice falters.

He will not receive any answers. He can yell until he is blue in the face, but no one will tell him if she’s okay, if she’s alive, or what happened to her. Terror was a constant companion after seeing Bradley’s sword slice through Riza’s flesh, but now panic was threating to overcome him once again.

Roy cannot lose her. He can’t.

The doors slam with a finality, leaving him in complete darkness that Roy gets the feeling he will never be able to escape from.

He’s blind.

The last thing he saw was Truth’s unnerving smile, and before that it was Riza on the floor, bleeding out and dying in front of him. That image was the last thing he saw in this world and it’s burned into his mind forever. It will not leave him be in his sudden pitch-black world.

He hates it. Abhors it. He wants to escape it but can’t. It’s with him always. A companion that lays out all of his failings before him. Roy chokes when he thinks about how she was left lying there, alone, critically injured, and he did nothing, could do nothing, to help or ease her pain.

Father tosses him around like a ragdoll, but Roy is still trying to adjust to being blind. He’s blinking furiously, hoping it will all turn out to be a horrible nightmare, but it’s futile. No matter how many times he blinks he cannot shift that image of her.

Is she even still alive?

He will not accept anything less.

“Sir?”

His head whips up and swings around frantically in its search. Roy thinks he may have been mistaken but… It is entirely possible his mind is playing a cruel trick on him, but he would also recognise her voice anywhere.

There’s a pressure on his forearm that commandeers his attention.

“Roy?”

The voice sounds scratchy. It catches as it pronounces the ‘y’ in his name, but Roy is filled instantly with recognition. The muscles of his face go slack as he stares wide eyed, yet unseeing, at the person he knows is in front of him.

Relief explodes within him. Muscles all over his body quiver and shake with it, and Roy cannot help himself. Every consequence, and everyone else, be damned. He surges forwards and upwards to his knees to wrap his arms – albeit clumsily – around Riza Hawkeye’s shoulders tightly.

He doesn’t even need her to confirm it. He knows it’s her by the smell of her shampoo and the faint smell of her perfume. It’s barely there underneath the smell of blood and the day’s grime, but it’s there, with him. It anchors Roy completely and tears surge into his eyelids.

“You’re alive,” he whispers.

Hands clutch desperately at his back. “I’m alive,” she confirms quietly.

Roy doesn’t care. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and as an afterthought he realises he was lucky. It was not her injured side his face happened upon. Underneath his lips her skin is smooth and unmarked by the homunculi’s cruelty.

Roy inhales deeply and his eyes squeeze tightly closed as he savours the feeling of holding her, of knowing she is alive.

The last time he saw her, she was bleeding out. Dying. Chance, fate, or whoever, were smiling upon him today though, and Roy is grateful. He will take it. Roy doesn’t question her survival, just takes it at face value because that’s all he’s ever wanted in this last traumatic hour.

She’s alive.

Riza is alive.

His worst fear, his nightmare, had not come to pass after all, when it had seemed so likely before and he’d been left floundering, not knowing what the outcome would be.

The ‘how’ can come later. A tear escapes from beneath his closed lids and Roy simply rejoices in that fact while they have a quiet moment together. Another one follows suit when one of her hands lifts to rest upon the back of his head and pats it twice. It seems like a simple, friendly gesture, but he can feel the way the fingers of her other hand tighten their pressure upon his back. She’s still clinging to him and does not let up.

She’s alive. He can’t see her, but he can feel her touch and hear her breath.

“Are you okay?”

He wants to laugh. The joy bubbles up inside his chest when he hears the concern laced within her voice, simply because he is so happy to hear it.

Even if he cannot see her, this is enough for now.

“Are you?” He has no time to focus on himself. Not when the last time he saw her, she was so near death.

“Mei patched me up,” Riza explains, sounding hoarse.

Roy vows that owes that young alchemist a life debt. He will work until his dying breath to ensure it is paid for saving Riza’s life.

He pulls her in hurriedly for another embrace. It affirms that she is really there and breathing, and alive.

What he’s about to say is risky, but he’s in the mood for it. After what they’d just been through, Roy feeds the impulse because he needs her to know what he’s truly thinking.

Just in case.

When it came to Riza Hawkeye, his decisions always did have the tendency to be ruled by his heart, and while Riza still involved her heart completely, she was always the more level-headed and reasonable one, given their circumstances as subordinate and commanding officer.

Still, the situation called for it.

“I love you.” It’s whispered against the skin of her neck. Roy knows Riza hears him because her body stiffens with surprise.

Riza doesn’t respond until after a beat or two. It’s a simple nod, but it’s enough to know she acknowledges what he’s said. Roy doesn’t expect her to reply. They both know where they stand with one another and have done for years. The first time the sentiment had been expressed was after he returned from the academy, so this is not a shock revelation. It’s a means of comfort. A reassurance. And Roy feels it needs to be said. It’s also been a while since he’d last said those words to her, but right now it feels like it’s been too long. Another wrong in his book, but one he could correct immediately.

“I love you too, Roy.”

He blinks, surprised that she has said it back to him among the company of so many people, but they must not be paying attention to them.

Roy tightens his arms around her.

She’s alive, and she knows how he feels about her.

She knows.

They both do.

She’s okay.

That one thought eases all of his fears and leaves him feeling light, like he’s floating on air, so he buries his face into the crook of her neck once more to find an anchor.

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #royai oneshot #emma writes

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grace-likes-things · 4 years ago

Text

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her.

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves.

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine.

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.”

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down.

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad.

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question.

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target.

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible.

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out.

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place.

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team.

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings.

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls.

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it.

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard.

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room.

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!”

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter.

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.”

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me.

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open.

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again,

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until—

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.”

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face.

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet.

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room.

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either.

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume.

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel.

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice.

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission.

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

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